WFF Series 3: Brave New World [IC, CLOSED]

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Jan 25, 2020 1:52 pm

[- OOC THREAD -] | [- IC THREAD INDEX -]

CO-OP(s): Turmenista

S1E1
_{BATTLESTATIONS TIAMAT}

New orders have arrived. A changing of the guard is due aboard the MIN Radu: former commander of the MIN Uras (TD-66), Naru al-Birtu, has been transferred to command duty over the carrier vessel. Young for her responsibilities, much is ahead of Naru with her newfound post... including a set of orders directly from the capital.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Battlestations Tiamat, Act 1 | Chapter 1
"Orders"

Fort Nexu Naval Complex
Fort Nexu
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Brillardere 41, 251 AE
6:32 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

The naval facility dwarfed its surroundings in scale, drydocks busy with sailors and rife with the scent of diesel oil. It was still yet dawn as the sun faintly glowed in the Vestan horizon, bringing with it a faint bluish paleness that cast an eerie light that complemented the flickering yellow lamps of the busy naval complex.

Fort Nexu Naval Complex was Maturoch's foothold in the Alut Gulf, its intricacy matched by its artistic fineness. Military offices and barracks loomed upon ziggurat-like structures, radomes aptly tracking communication and radar presences alike. Rugged sailors walked the labyrinthine expanse of the facility, overseen by naval officers who bore more similarity in mannerism to the deities above than any sane man, judging by their arrogance.

---==============---

A Vestan sunrise.

Upon PA systems orders and calls echoed throughout the complex, ghostly whispers of a phantom bureaucracy bearing incomprehensible expanse. All was routine — even when it wasn't. Ominous blue-green contrasted with the blackness of the sea to the west, reflecting only the faintness of that distant star upon which all life hinged. "Zvezda po imeni solntse," An ancient Velikossi poem would echo. Who knew if they still existed.

Muxen smiled upon the sailors today, perhaps — in the grim vastness of the stars above, the faint glimmer of something else: Tsion. The cradle of all life; all civilized life, anyway. Its presence in the skies above was a reminder to Maturoch — nay, all Vesta's people of their celestial origins. The plucky, hardened people of this world were not native to this oasis: they were settlers, conquerors, fighters, and had earned their right to exist upon the surface of the alien world two-hundred fifty one Vestan years prior. Vesta had changed them too, of course: with the aid of a variety of drugs, they were taller and stronger than their Tsionic forebearers.

Some wondered what had happened to home after the Eschaton. Had all life perished under the suffocating nuclear winter? Surely not — the high-power telescopes could still see upon the primordial world's surface a vast expanse of light. Cities, innumerable in quantity, graced the surface... but what had truly happened?

It was a question many feared to seek answers for.

---==============---

In the Maturochi pantheon, Muxen is the primogenitor of all life. A creator god, Muxen is represented through a bird-headed humanoid. A wise god, Muxen often speaks in proverbs and riddles. History itself is said to be one of Muxen's riddles, as it is cyclical, and often cruelly so. In the Tupximatu, it is said Muxen cast Mankind from the Heavens, and gave them one quest: to conquer all He had created.

Beyond the smorgasbord of activity and bustle of the early morning at the naval base, a convoy descended upon the highway's thoroughfare. The slick black finish of the staff car reflected upon its surface the lights of the streetlamps above as it approached, guarded by front, back and side by general-purpose vehicles.

By the two flags that flanked its hood, each carrying an emblem of three diamonds, the subject in question was a Rab presiding over a carrier and associated group — equivalent in foreign nations to an Admiral. Its dimmed windows created more questions than answers as to who was due to arrive, naturally. The bureaucracy of Maturoch was an ever-present beast, unfathomable and serpentine in nature. Departments, agencies and bureaus operated in conjunction to one another to create what was in essence a well-oiled machine — albeit one that was hard to fathom to a foreigner.

The convoy's approach, and the military megaplex that spanned Fort Nexu, contrasted oddly with the vast metropolitan expanse that was Armannu. Art deco skyscrapers and modernist monuments to the labors of man towered in the distance, city lights still glimmering in the darkness of the Vestan dawn was still in its nascent stages.

A highway exit would bring the convoy to approach gold-embossed gates, security kiosk manned by jacket-clad MPs. Their arrival had been expected. A tired gaze from behind the kiosk's windows would bring the gates to open, the convoy continuing onward into the naval complex. Greeting them as they neared the entrance was a statue of a man, hand pointed forward with sceptre in another. The heroes of the Vestan Wars, legends of bygone centuries: Maturoch was not Maturoch then, still bound to the ideals of the homeworld they had been severed from.

It was among the colonies aligned with their red Tsionic masters of the old world, clashing against the Euphemians and their lapdogs. They still wore EVA suits in those times, which gave those men and women of old an almost larger-than-life aura as they towered there in statues of limestone and marble, their bulky suits frozen amid the battles that had defined the borders of what would become a Vesta independent of the auspices of old world blues.

Slowly the convoy would come to a halt, the formal guards standing at the ready flanking the metaphorical red carpet that had been laid for the new arrival.

One of the MPs hesitated little in opening the staff car's door, allowing the subject of the formalities to emerge. RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu loomed above her peers at just above seven feet, which was just a bit above the Vestan average. She had achieved this abrupt promotion by a mixture of luck, circumstance and talent — she had surpassed her peers in the academy quite well, and served prior as commanding officer of a light cruiser. The military bureaucracy was an ever-shifting one, however, and she had been deemed fit to replace her predecessor. Perhaps he would have retained his post, had he not become fixated with religious fervor and arrogance.

---==============---

Among the youngest to ever command a carrier, much is ahead of Naru: both in expectations and responsibilities. From commander of the MIN Uras (TD-66) to commander of Maturoch's finest command vessel, Naru has achieved a rather unprecedented promotion... but how will the inexperienced officer handle primacy over much of the fleet?

Regardless of what circumstances had precipitated her abrupt promotion and the sacking of her delusional predecessor, there was little understating that Naru was excited for what lay ahead of her. Keeping her cool was a skill of hers— a talent, perhaps— to which she kept a stoic gaze ahead as she dismounted the staff car.

"The Radu is ready. Give the orders and the Alut Gulf taskforce will commence activities." The words came from a bureaucratic aide, coat giving him an aura no different than most of the capital's innumerable government-affiliated suits. Most had spent solar cycles upon solar cycles' worth of their lives behind typewriters and archival computers, the metaphorical suckers of the metaphorical tentacles of the very much real eldritch incomprehense that was Maturoch's vast bureaucracy.

"I was originally of the presumption I was to wait an additional months' time." replied Naru, eyes perusing the bureaucrat with the slightest bit of skepticism.

"The situation demands haste. The Department of Defense has no time for the petty cogs of diplomacy. I trust you to review your orders and handle them in a timely and efficient manner. I would not wish that the Department's faith in your special... 'je ne sais quoi'... be misplaced. All the best of luck." Patting her shoulder, the bureaucrat took his leave, wide-rimmed glasses an ethereal glow in the twilight.

Avila folder in one hand, Naru began forth. In the cool pre-morning air, she could see the condensing misty plumes of breath from the men standing guard. Vesta was, without doubt, far colder than the primordial celestial cradle of Humanity... to which this cold was more of the usual for Naru — still, though, Maturoch was relatively warm, sitting in the pleasant Vestan tropics, just beneath the equator.

The gate into the base itself was far grander than the simple security checkpoint the convoy had passed before — it carried with it the artisanry and grace of past and present alike, blue ceramic bricks decorated with depictions of dragons, beasts of old world legend, along with other animals of old world renown — depictions of mighty aurochs contrasted well with the fantastical beasts.

Inscribed upon the gate was a slogan in gold-beveled Maturochi script, a reminder of the Navy's duty in the grand scheme of things.

Peace our profession, Providence our guide

The air seemed to change in the base as the young officer made her entrance, most hastening their respective duties as she passed them by. It would not be long before she had reached the military offices, towering over the adjacencies by a few stories. Flanking the entrance were two stone Muxussu, the guards standing at attention as Naru walked past, ornate doors opened as she entered.

Her office was that of her predecessor's, though Fate would demand her presence at Fort Nexu be brief. Finding it through the labyrinthian corridors of the military offices had been easy — and entering it had greeted her with rather noble surroundings: bookshelves, a small shrine to Muxen, and a desk of Tiamat pearlwood of fine and precise detail.

Taking a moment to sit back in the leather chair that hosted admirals past, Naru gazed down upon the avila folder, now opened before her. There, clear as day, were her orders.

FROM: SECDEF Nigsummunu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu

"Alut Gulf taskforce to deploy immediately. Pro-Terminus naval elements in Vesperanze — the Kingdom, that is — have been deemed an unacceptable counterweight to the Belutene's naval interests. The Department of Defense now pursues the immediate pacification of the Vesperanze Fleet, effective immediately. You have been given command over the MIN Radu and a carte blanche to act in Maturoch's interests. RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu will be your second-in-command, and is to be informed of these orders accordingly. Burn this document upon reading."

There was a bit of apprehension from Naru as she scanned through the contents of the order. It was, after all, a real enemy, a real engagement. It was hardly business as usual... but the exercises had prepared her for the occasion.

Naru wasn't particularly the most avid smoker, but she did carry a lighter for when the occasion demanded it. Crumpling the paper and setting it upon the ashtray, Naru set it alight, watching its surface wither as it slowly became a blackened mass of burnt paper and ash.

---==============---

An average Maturochi c-writer.

To say the admiral's office was lacking in amenities was to lie — the desk granted communication with a plethora of other offices and facilities within the complex, to which Naru took little time in acting upon said orders. A button would bring with it the emergence of a rather bulky c-writer upon the pearlwood desk, Naru typing out her instructions accordingly. A magnifying lens hung rather clumsily from an arm-like mechanism, allowing her a closer look at the small cathode ray tube monitor displaying her words.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: Office of Communications, Fort Nexu Naval Complex

"The immediate presence of RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu has been requested to my office."

Hitting a key bearing Maturochi cuneiform for 'ENTER', Naru leaned back in her seat in wait... she wasn't sure what to expect. Depending on the facility, requests and orders could be anything from five minutes to five hours — although it did depend on what was requested. She'd be working with this 'Anshar al-Xehtu' for an indeterminate amount of time, given the orders that she now held the responsibility of carrying out.

While response time did indeed vary, especially in a complex as large as Fort Nexu, Naru would be fortunate in that it wouldn’t take much time at all for her new second-in-command to bring himself to her office, door opening up as he showed himself in, the man giving a firm salute to his new superior.

---==============---

Commander of the MIN Alaktu (TM-19), Anshar al-Xehtu is a promising cadet, recruited from the ranks of one of Maturoch's well-off officer families, bonded by Fate to military service in the name of the Belutene. With a lengthy career ahead of him, he must still prove his name in combat.

“RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, ma’am.” He would introduce himself as, lowering his arm. He was at least a foot shorter than Naru, his skin a few tones paler, hair an equally silken black. Presentable, Naru supposed.

"At ease. Please, take a seat." Naru gestured to the chair opposite her own, leaning forward as she retracted the c-writer on her desk. The captain would take the invitation, a slight bit of curiosity hinted from his features. Glancing behind herself, Naru would note the drinks stacked on one of the adjacent shelves — this was certainly not the right occasion for serafine pleasurewater, a simple glass of Maturochi wine would suffice. There was a certain elegance about her as she filled his glass, and then her own.

"As you are probably well-aware, I have been instated as commanding officer of the Radu. By this metric, I am effectively your superior and commanding officer. That would be a mundane affair of our nation's bureaucracy, of course, were it not for the... orders I was given along with my newfound post." Her eyes turned once more to the ashen pile of burnt paper that sat atop the ashtray, as if it were self-explanatory.

“..and what would those orders be?” Anshar questioned, nodding along with his new superior officer.

There was a tension in the air as Naru's eyes came level with Anshar's, the officer pondering how to best word the orders they had been tasked with. "The Department of Defense has deemed the Kingdom of Vesperanze's leanings toward the Euphemian state of Terminus are a threatening counterweight to our navy's prosperity in the Alut Gulf. Effective immediately, the Alut Gulf taskforce is to deploy and conduct preemptive action against Vesperanze's fleet. I am... well... effectively in charge of this undertaking, with you as my second-in-command." She explained, arms crossed.

The development had certainly garnered Anshar’s attention. “I uh, see...”

---==============---

In the Maturochi pantheon, Ardatax is the daughter of Muxen and the Known Universe. Ardatax commands love, war and femininity, acting as Muxen's second in command over the Universe. Her favor is said to determine battles, her mercy is said to spare generals from crippling defeat, and her favor is said to bring even the skies themselves to one's favor. Ardatax is also the mother of all other deities in Erabu.

"I'm uncertain what will come once we are at sea, but surely Ardatax smiles upon our impending duty and will grant us triumph over our enemies. That, and I am confident in the competence of our men and the technology of our fleet." Naru reassured. "Regardless, we must prepare with haste. By all means, the fleet will be at sea by 1200 hours. I will see to it that all is in working order... see to it that the same be the case aboard your vessel."

“It will be done, ma’am.” Anshar assured her.

Like a chthonic beast of unfathomable size stirring from a primordial slumber, the boilers of the Radu roared to life, steam turbines coming alive as the Maturochi carrier slowly began out of port. The decks were rife with crewmen, all operating soundly under Naru's watch.

---==============---

The MIN Radu sits in port, in all its glory. The last vessel of the Kaxidu class of carriers, the Radu is tasked with the defense of the Alut Gulf.

Orders had already been distributed to the rest of the vessels assigned to the Alut Gulf taskforce, to which Naru observed the situation through the variety of bulky monitors and screens that decorated her statesroom. Maturoch was akin to a slumbering force of nature, and it had been awakened by political necessity — what tasks that might carry with it were to be seen, but Naru carried about her a fair deal of confidence.

C-writer before her, Naru was sure to check on the progress of her second-in-command's vessel.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"SITREP?"

The response would follow soon thereafter, a printout of the transcript thus far being churned out by the autoprinter just adjacent in her statesroom. Furthermore, the text itself would be laid out upon her c-writer's screen:

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Ship has been fully restocked for operations and everything is in working order.”

"Good." She quietly replied, audible to none. Taking a leave from her statesroom, Naru weaved through busy corridors to reach the superstructure... the conning tower allowed nothing short of a gods' eye view of their surroundings, the sky slowly brightening with the slow morning. Pillars of smoke could be seen as vessel after vessel began upon their new western trajectory. The fleet had left their respective ports of call with impressive haste and efficiency.

A cool eastern wind blew across the deck, Naru's gaze turning to the aircraft stowed aboard, a few neatly organized upon the flight deck. There was no knowing what lay ahead of the Maturochi fleet... but within Naru stirred the conviction that they would triumph in their goals.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Mon Jan 27, 2020 6:48 pm

S1E2
_{BATTLESTATIONS TIAMAT}

Naru makes her first move. Upon the Delabismo Peninsula sits a vital centre for the Royal Vesperanze Navy's naval operations: Yepes. Heavily fortified against communist and fascist rebel salients nearby, the fortress-city is impenetrable — by the ground. The mission is simple: Strike Yepes Harbor, and eliminate as many vessels in port as possible.

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Battlestations Tiamat, Act 1 | Chapter 2
"Preemptive Action"

Alut Gulf Taskforce
High Seas
Brillardere 43, 251 AE
7:30 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

In the span of two days, the Alut Gulf Taskforce had travelled from port to the coasts of wartorn Vesperanze, split between radical communists, fascists, and a Kingdom of the decline, seeking to piece back together itself - with the help of Terminus. That was where Maturoch’s interest lay, in countering the alteration to the geopolitical situation that this would present the Belutene. And now, it would be the Navy who would have the task of carrying out the task at hand.

Anshar al-Xehtu, of course, was more than happy to have a part to play in something as important to Maturoch’s security as eliminating an entire navy. A son of a well-off military family, with a respectable Navy history, he was eager to leave his mark as well as serve his country. Being second-in-command of the entire force was still something that felt just a bit odd to him, though he tried to not get distracted from his responsibilities.

---==============---

The MIN Alaktu (TM-19) serves as a symbol of Maturoch's power projection capabilities in the Alut Gulf. One of eight Isitu-class guided missile cruisers, it is equaled by few navies in the Tiamat subcontinent.

The view from the bridge of his vessel, the Alaktu, was certainly an admirable one - that of the Taskforce, steadily approaching towards Vesperanze. They were off the Delabismo Peninsula, ruthlessly fought over like all the rest of the country. And soon, he knew, things were about to kick off. The Kingdom’s forces in the Peninsula were all concentrated around the city of Yepes, which now effectively stood as the only bastion of royal control in the north of Vesperanze, aside from the contested port city of Serafim. It was now a fortress, effectively impenetrable from ground attack. However, though, another sector of defense had been neglected... the sea.

And that would be what Maturoch would exploit in the process of beginning to neutralize the Kingdom’s Navy as a threat. Many of its Navy’s ships were docked in its harbor, and the opening move would be to eliminate as many as possible in a swift, decisive blow. Anshar knew it would not be long until things properly commenced, all that waited now were the directives of his superior.

The order would come by radio this time, Naru's voice audible amid the bustle of the Radu's own CIC.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu][♀️] "Commence the operation. Alaktu, your priority will be spearheading the strike. The Radu shall render support with aircraft."

Lifting off from the deck of the Radu, Fighter Squadron 3 took to the skies. The MA/A-239 Tabihu was a trusty airframe for certain, although far lighter than any aircraft in service with the air force. With grace the group lifted off one by one, the twenty-seven aircraft formation weaving through the clouds of the Vestan morning. The sun faintly glimmered in the distance, reflecting upon the navy blue airframes of the fighter aircraft.

---==============---

The MA/A-239 Tabihu.

The clock ticked as the fighters soared away into the distance, the darkened surface of the Delabismo Peninsula coming into view below. The sun crested the east, San Eliseo Bay glimmering under the orange and pink hues of the sunrise. Gradually the aircraft approached, the city lights of Yepes coming into view as the fighters approached.

Leading the formation of aircraft was RABSIRB. Kiyaru. A veteran of past skirmishes with the Eridanians, he knew a thing or two about raising hell. Skimming just above the waterline, the fighter formation approached the harbor of the fortress-city — and in another moment, broke formation to assess the vessels in port.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABSIRB. Kiyaru][♂️] "They've got half the goddamn navy here! I can confirm identification on at least five of these vessels... coordinates of the rest have been transmitted."

[RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu][♀️] "Engage what you can, Fighter Squadron 3. The fleet will handle the rest."

Upon hearing the exchange over comms, Anshar would give a brief nod to himself. With the coordinates of the enemy fleet being sent over, they would be received by the crew of Alaktu, and the other ships of the Taskforce even as he thought to himself. Of course, Alaktu would be beginning the Fleet’s attack... only after the planes had done their work though, of course. Even as he moved across the bridge to oversee the ship’s targeting computers and radar screens, they were already lighting up with activity, giving a good indication of how the air attack was going.

“Everything is going well...” Anshar remarked out loud, speaking to a few of the crew members. “Prepare to launch our twelve S239 anti-shipping missiles, targets can be at your discretion - we completely outclass them.” He would receive obedient nods in response.

Before any response could come from the enemy, the squadron had already made its move. Dipping from the skies above, the first target to be strafed would be a lone submarine of the S103-class. 30mm rounds pelted the hull of the vessel as it sat in port, explosions soon ravaging the hull as the missiles struck. By the time the smoke and flame had faded away, it was readily apparent that the aft side had been devastated, engines and propellers with it... rendering the vessel completely inert.

ENEMY COMMS

[Yepes Port Authority][♀️] "Explosions reported aboard the NMV Nueva Velezia! Report!"

As the submarine burned in the background, other aircraft of the squadron had found another target — a replenishment oiler, similarly sitting in port. With haste, the Tabihu fighters bore down on the vessel — a strafing run would send an explosion of ignited oil shredding through the aft side of the vessel, flames licking the skies above as alarms raved across the facility below.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Pingue Volante Crew][♂️] "Fires across the vessel! We're trying to contain the initial blast zone!"
[NMV Pingue Volante Crew][♀️] "Oh god... INCOMING!"

Another run would spell the demise of the vessel, as another Tabihu fired away an anti-ship missile. The explosion — both the missile's, and the fuel aboard being abruptly ignited, would spell a quick spectacle of destruction that would split the vessel in two.

---==============---

The destruction of the NMV Pingue Volante.

As the orgy of destruction unfolded below, a new target came into focus — a cruiser, moored in port. The initial wave of attacks had already sent the crewmen aboard scrambling to their stations, but it would prove too little, too late. Explosions detonated across the vessel as the missiles hit, the cruiser's hull narrowly holding as it listed, smoke plumes billowing from its port side.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Bailén Crew][♂️] "Engines have been hit! We can't contain the blaze!"

Chaos had completely and utterly overtaken the port. Here and there, sporadic anti-air fire tried in vain to hold back the squadron as it continued its campaign of destruction, explosions and aftershocks still rocking the harbor every now and then. Already two Constante-class destroyers were pushing to leave port with haste — it was clear what would happen if they sat idly. Guns firing here and there, they struggled to land a mere hit — and in due time, they too would become targets.

The first attack run had ripped the bow to shreds upon the waterline, bomb ravaging the face of the vessel as water rushed in. Even then, it stood in defiance to the foreign assault — but that wouldn't be for long. One of the Tabihu fighters dipped from above, strafing run pelting the vessel's main gun, cutting through the thin armor of the main gun. There was a momentary silence... that was, before explosions ripped through the deck, engulfing the vessel in flames. Luck meant everything — and by a narrow margin, the vessel's ammo had detonated... to catastrophic effect. What remained of the ravaged vessel stood idle for a moment, charred bodies and burning fuel littering the waters upon which it stood. After a while it slowly began to dip below the waterline, before capsizing outright.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Vestano Crew][♀️] "Tridente is down! Who the hell is attacking us?!"

Little time would be granted to the remaining destroyer, however, as the fighters shifted their focus. Sporadic cannon fire into the air proved fruitless as the destroyer's crew desperately attempted to defend their vessel from what was to come.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Vestano Crew][♀️] "INCOMING!"

With another strafing run, a Tabihu fighter dipped, quad 30mm cannons going live. The turret of the ill-fated destroyer was quickly cut apart as if it were paper — and within another moment the ammunition would detonate, the anti-ship missile launchers aboard the doomed vessel joining the flames as fiery spectacle overtook the forward deck. When the flame and smoke had dissipated, little remained of the forward end of the vessel, much less the superstructure and bridge.

ENEMY COMMS

[Yepes Port Authority][♀️] "V—Vestano has ceased responding!"

The fighters were already ascending to the clouds above, falling back in the aftermath of their devastating attack. The Vesperanzan sailors below had been left to tend to their dead and wounded... but not for long.

“Clear to fire... now.”

With the fighter squadron returning to the Radu, it would now be the Alaktu’s turn to demonstrate the might of Maturoch through the use of anti-ship missiles. The crew had already selected targets for their missiles, a couple of cruisers and two frigates that the squadron simply hadn’t had the resources to engage themselves. Anshar, and much of those present in the bridge, now saw fit to concern themselves with exactly how things would go with this salvo.

Just outside the windows, the front of the ship, and their whole view would be obstructed by a dozen pillars of smoke rising and expanding all at once, accompanied by the loud roar of the missiles taking off. For Anshar, it would be a satisfying sound, one to herald the deliverance of death upon the enemy. All he had to do now was wait, and view the progress of the missiles on the bridge’s screens. The missiles, smart as they were, would be doing all the hard work.

A bit of waiting was necessary, of course, and as the group approached towards the harbor, a couple of stray missiles went to diverge away from their targets, then a couple more, to his slight dissatisfaction. The majority, however, would lock onto their targets, and move in for the kill, the crewmen beginning to rapidly give out reports of what each missile was doing.

“Missile number two... hit!”

As confirmation for the sailors words, the ability of the Navy’s equipment to decipher enemy communications with ease gave captains like Anshar an easy ability to hear the impact their weaponry could do for themselves.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Ninfa Crew][♂️] "XO's dead!"

“..bridge hit, perhaps.” Anshar would guess.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Aparicio Crew][♀️] "INCOMING!—"

“Missile number three, hit confirmed.. Missile number four, also a hit!”

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Molina Captain][♂️] "We're alive, but barely! Bring us into the submarine pens!"

“Submarine pens? Well, then...” Anshar thought aloud, perhaps a little annoyed. Submarine pens were designed, after all, to be impervious to the sort of weaponry his vessel possessed. It’d be hard to damage anything inside one, for sure.

“Missile number five... hit!”

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Bailén Crew][♀️] "IT'S GONNA FUCKING BLOW—"

The screams of the enemy crew would be overtaken by static as a blip of static slowly faded away from the radar displays.

“-yeah, that’s a kill...” A sailor would confirm.

“Sixth missile, it’s gonna be... nope. Didn’t hit.”

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Anfítrite Crew][♀️] "We're in the clear!"

Another missile would promptly disappear off the radar, intercepted by it’s target.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Ninfa Crew][♂️] "Intercepted!"

A slight wait would follow, with now only two missiles remaining, entering their final stages of flight. Despite the surely desperate attempts of the vessels crews to defend themselves from the swarm, at least one more would get through, unceremoniously being removed from the radar as it made impact.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Proserpina Crew][♂️] "One of the main guns have been destroyed! ..it's a miracle our ammunition hasn't fucking exploded!"

“Final one.” Anshar noted to himself. This one would see itself removed just before scoring a hit, as it seemed - someone on that particular vessel seemed a little lucky.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Anfítrite Crew][♀️] "Got 'em!"
[NMV Ninfa Crew][♂️] "Who the hell are behind these attacks?"
[NMV Molina Captain][♂️] "Still no word from command! Is this the work of the Communists?"

“Well, that’s two vessels destroyed, I think three damaged... good.” The captain would note. With his own ship’s stock of AShMs depleted, he would now simply call upon the other ships to continue devastating the Vesperanzans.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu][♂️] "Amurru, target the remaining ships in harbor with your ship’s AShMs."
[RABTUM. Ahassunu][♀️] "Understood!"

Anshar would promptly return to the bridge’s arrays and radar screens to see how this volley would do. It was a rather menial thing, he couldn’t help but feel - they hadn’t stood much chance against Maturoch. Much like his ship’s attack, about half of the Amurru’s missiles wouldn’t be able to acquire lock-ons, but those that could seemed to have a fair chance. As one line on the radar rushed forwards towards a blip, and then disappeared, he would begin to hear his first audible confirmation of a hit.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Mercurio Crew][♀️] "Fire's burning out of control! Engine's been completely destroyed!"
[NMV Mercurio Captain][♂️] "Abandon ship!"

Things would proceed to ramp up after that, Anshar noticing that everything was beginning to feel just a little bit faster. Another line would disappear off the radar, thought not the tiny little dot it was shooting for.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Anfítrite Crew][♀️] "We're safe and sound... it'll take more than that to bring us down."

The next missile after that would make impact with its target...

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Restauración Crew][♂️] "We've been hit, waterline! Lower decks are taking in water!"

..as would the missile after it, hitting the same target to deal a nasty set of blows - blows which would prove fatal for the ship, evident both from it disappearing off radar, and from the pandemonium and chaos being broadcast into the bridge. The missiles would now proceed onto different ships, although the Vesperanzeans now seemed to be fully operating their AA to decent effect, managing to shoot down a notable amount of the missiles aimed at them.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Hermiona Crew][♂️] "That was too close for comfort!"

With only one missile remaining, it hurtled towards one blip that had proven especially troublesome to hit. Unsurprisingly, it would disappear off radar without achieving any sort of damage.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Ninfa Crew][♂️] "We're still holding strong!"

“Well..” Anshar mused. “Two ships abandoned. Perhaps,” He thought aloud. “It’s time to move in closer. Negate, maybe, their point defenses with our own guns. The Alaktu and our other ships will move in towards Yepes, and we’ll stomp out their fleet for good.”

Some time later, perhaps an hour or so later, had brought the Alaktu and an accompanying vessel, the Hurru, approaching towards Yepes - close enough to use their gun batteries. While it might perhaps have seemed a bit unnecessary, the directives of both Anshar and his commanding officer were to completely neutralize the Vesperanzean Navy. As things stood, such a task could not be done simply by firing off missiles from a distance, a direct attack against Yepes and the ships in its harbor was now needed. Naturally, of course, the most heavily armored vessels - ships like the Alaktu - would be most suitable for the task.

Probably in much contrast to the Vesperanzean ships, the situation aboard Alaktu remained calm as ever. Anshar wouldn’t have the advantage of surprise anymore, but in his situation, did that matter much? That was the question he asked inside his head. His ship would continue, meanwhile, to steadily encroach upon the waters of Vesperanze, course bound to the bastion of royal influence in the north of the troubled country.

“..they’re continuing to move out into the ocean.” One of the radar operators would report.

“Just means we’ll get to hit them quicker.” Anshar commented. “I’m sure we’ve provoked them, though. Have our 8-inch ready to begin firing soon, it is time to... assert our dominance, perhaps.” The thought that he would do it gave him reason to smirk, just a little.

The attack on Yepes had left the Royal Vesperanze Navy without a choice. With still no proper identification of the enemy, the command structure was reeling in the aftermath of the assault. Some blamed Maturoch, others pinned it on neighboring Gradelon. Avarece, perhaps? The cold winds blew on, the sky having become a grim overcast.

It had been an hour since the attack, and Capitán Victoria Iadanza still carried with her the bitterness of seeing her fellow officers — no, friends massacred at the hands of their mysterious foe. But the answer to all their questions would come in due time. Waves lapped against the side of the NMV Hermiona's hull as it pressed forward at full speed, the sea occasionally glowing here and there with the subaquatic, primordial Vestan sea-beasts that called San Eliseo Bay home.

All was more foreboding than usual. Perhaps it was the tragedy that had befallen her comrades. Or perhaps...

Iadanza sighed.

There was no telling what lay ahead — but that would reveal itself in a few moments. There, on the horizon, she saw them. It would elude any less experienced sailor's gaze, but the Vesperanzan captain knew better. Ornate telescope in hand, she ascended to the conning tower...

and there she saw it.

Two vessels, superstructures standing tall in the distance. There was no mistaking their designs, or the banner they flew.

"..Maturoch."

With haste she descended, hurrying to the CIC. Standing there, glowing cathodic monitors illuminating the space within, she gave the instruction. "Alert the fleet!"

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Hermiona Captain][♀] "Attacking vessels are Maturochi!"

The words seemed to have lit up some sort of alert, almost, inside Anshar’s head - now the game was truly up. “There we go,” He would mutter. “Let’s begin the attack, then. 8-inch can start to engage as soon as enemy vessels are in range... and I believe they are right now. They have discretion as to which targets they aim for.”

With his orders given, they would rapidly proceed to be wired across the ship, instructions given to the gunnery officers and firing solutions primed, and then the sound of roaring thunder followed, shells coming out from the barrels as they flew towards their targets. A few moments later, they would inevitably either hit the ship they were aimed at, or the water. Only one would hit its target, as the arrays of computers would show, but it would still have a good impact on the ship’s integrity.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Anfítrite Crew][♀] "WE'VE BEEN HIT! CONTAIN THE FIRES!"

The three-barreled turret onboard the Hurru would quickly follow suit, also opening up with a salvo of shells upon the vastly reduced flotilla of ships moving to intercept them.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Ninfa Crew][♂️] "Center deck's been hit! Smokestacks are fucked!"

Unsurprisingly, one could already faintly see smoke pouring up into the air from Yepes, originating from a variety of damaged and sunk ships, as well as the oil they carried, turning much of the sky into a thick black. The sight made Anshar feel a little more satisfied at the work he was carrying out, getting to see firsthand the result of the sheer difference in power and ability that separated nations like Maturoch from those like Vesperanze. Things seemed to be well in favor of a rather simple resolution to the question of what would befall the Kingdom’s ships in Yepes - destruction.

Another vessel would join the NMV Hermiona at sea: the NMV Proserpina. Both Sirena-class cruisers had been in the port of Yepes to undergo maintenance, given the state of their aging hulls, but the attack had left them with no choice but to strike with haste.

Like the beast of iron and steel it was, the Proserpina pushed on, soon passing the Hermiona as it pushed ahead at full speed. Iadanza looked on with bated breath as the sister vessel's forward main gun took aim, the other already damaged and rendered inert in the attacks.

TRANSCRIPCIÓN

[NMV Proserpina (C46)][Capitán Patrido Flores][♂️] "Engaging!"

With a thunderous boom, the cannons fired... only for the rounds to uselessly explode beside one of the Maturochi cruisers, water splashing high into the air as flames licked the winds. Iadanza's heart sank at the sight. Perhaps it had been the sister vessel's crew, trained insufficiently — or perhaps it had been the fact they had been forced to sea amid the attacks... either way, she cursed Fate for their circumstances.

"Keep ahead!" She instructed, looking back to the concerned officers in the CIC. They had been left with no choice... it would be a fight on the high seas or certain destruction in port.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABTUM. Nidintu-Bel][♂️] "Too close for comfort!"

The battle was now in full swing, a shell having just splashed near the Hurru, and Anshar found now to be a good time to begin bringing in more reinforcing ships to match the enemy. His first pick would be the Talis, closest to his vessel and the Hurru. The light cruiser wasn’t quite close enough to utilize its guns, but at close enough range, she would be able to put out shells at a much quicker and constant pace than the Alaktu or Hurru could manage with their single turret.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu][♂️] "Talis, join formation with Alaktu and Hurru. Your weapons will be useful for just before we enter visual range with the enemy."
[RABTUM. Amata][♀] "Understood!"

Drawing nearer, Anshar could see it well: one of the Vesperanzan cruisers was approaching with haste. Without a doubt, it intended to fight them head-on... though, given the lacking armaments of the Sirena-class cruisers, that was likely their only option. The number on the vessel's hull was 047 — the NMV Hermiona.

Behind it, in the horizon, another Sirena-class cruiser lurked upon the horizon... yet another survivor of the assault on the port, hastily called to sea. The Vesperanzans wanted a fight, and by this point a fight was inevitable.

Anshar himself, of course, wasn’t oblivious to what this was. At visual range, the gap in superiority between his ship and the enemy vastly narrowed, though that wasn’t to say he was in a bad position quite yet. Moving rapidly to pick up his own set of binoculars, he would garner a quick peek of the enemy vessel, noting its hull number. “Enemy ship right to our left! Our guns need to smash that thing to pieces, make it quick!”

The gun turret in front of the Alaktu’s bridge would hastily swivel over, a succession of shots following as Anshar rather anxiously observed through the lens of his binoculars. A few moments would pass, followed by a splash in the water, then two explosions towards the rear of the vessel, sending metal and debris flying all around. Smoke and fire would pour out from the holes created, the enemy ship noticeably beginning to slow.

Hurru’s guns would follow, it seemingly having the same idea as the Alaktu. Two more splashes were thrown up in front of the ship, the third shell fired lodging itself into the aft end of the enemy vessel, much like the Alaktu’s shells. More fire would spew out as a result, though it’s crew seemed to be working overtime in trying to desperately suppress the flames.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Hermiona Crew][♂️] "Propellers are gone! We're dead in the goddamn water!"

On the Alaktu, meanwhile, a rather annoying burst of static overtook much of the radio communications pieces for a second, quickly fading away. What it probably meant was a failed attempt at jamming, something a more cynical observer might perceive the Vesperanzans as having been incapable of doing effectively. It had no effect on the actual duel, of course, the Alaktu simultaneously firing off another burst of shells towards another one of the advancing ships, though rather unsatisfactorily, the shots would actually end up missing.

Hurru seemed to be having better luck though, still fixated on the ship that had dared to enter their view from the horizon. With a resounding demonstration of power, the cruiser would lay waste to the Vesperanzean ship’s smokestacks, obliterating the funnels and much of what had surrounded them. It was without doubt now, of course, that this vessel was dead in the water.

That being said though, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a threat, which meant the Alaktu would continue prioritizing it’s destruction, another series of explosions rocking the general area of the engine compartment. Hurru would momentarily return its sights away from the now-crippled enemy vessel though, rocking another vessel with explosions instead.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Proserpina Crew][♂️] "Firing!"

The damaged vessel further ahead, even as smoke billowed from its side, stood defiant. In a moment its main guns fired, three rounds whizzing past the Alaktu and striking the seas just beside it. The plume of water that soared upward in the wake of the blast showered the deck with water, the vessel momentarily rocking in the aftermath of the blast. Another close call — and another would follow, as another one of the three enemy cruisers opened fire.

The plume of water would rise between the Hurru and the Alaktu, showering the vessel once more... either their luck was pronounced, or the enemy's incompetence was.

Taking advantage of the enemy’s seeming inability to retaliate even still, the Alaktu would continue to fire off it’s bursts, striking the middle of one seemingly newly-arrived ship. The smoke pouring out of the ships that had tried to harry the Alaktu now only contributed to the slight darkening of the air around Yepes.

Alarms blared. The air stung the nostrils of those aboard the Hermiona with the suffocating scent of fuel. By miracle, the combat information centre hadn't caved in, computers still weakly flickering with data as Iadanza stood there, eyes wide as she tried to collect herself. The last series of shots had seemingly shook the vessel to its core, and she could already feel it was beginning to sink, stern-first.

"The vessel's taking in water. We can't—" The voice of one of her subordinates would be drowned out by her own.

"WE WILL NOT BE HUMILIATED BY THESE FOREIGN DOGS! LOAD THE MAIN BATTERIES FOR ONE LAST—"

CRACK

The guttural moans of the vessel had reached a crescendo: an ear-splitting cracking sound echoed throughout the vessel, violently rocking the ship back before an even louder SNAP practically knocked everyone in the combat information centre off their feet. The lights had gone out, the situation uncertain — Iadanza would be first to speak up amid the chaos. "DAMAGE REPORT!"

Minutes passed before the answer came. Minutes that, as the Vesperanzan officers waited, seemed to drag on like hours, the vessel beginning to heel upward as she waited. By the time two of the officers had returned, ragged and equally stunned, she already needed to grip one of the stations to remain upright.

"The vessel's... the vessel's split in half, ma'am."

Her heart sank at the words. How had they been bested by the Maturochi, of all their rivals and neighbors? A rage welled up within the Vesperanzan officer as she finally conceded to the cruel reality that had befallen her vessel. "Order everyone to abandon ship!"

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Hermiona Crew][♀] "The vessel's split in half! Oh God—"

---==============---

The sinking of the Hermiona.

The sound and sight of the ship’s demise was like music to Anshar’s eyes and ears, a tang of satisfaction befalling him - he couldn’t help but admit that these ships were rather resilient to his guns. The two semi-functioning enemy ships remaining were both in little position to do much, they were capable of firing back, but not one shell had hit a Maturochi ship yet. Intending to keep that statement true, Anshar would continue to allow his ship to engage the enemy, another burst of fire finding their marks against a rather unfortunate enemy cruiser - it seemed now that this one was also cracking up, now in the process of sinking.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Medea Crew][♀] "The Proserpino and the Hermiona are lost! What do we do?!"
[NMV Medea Crew][♂] "If we don't fight, we'll die like the rest.."

Being the only remaining ship, the Medea was now easy prey for both the Maturochi cruisers. The Hurru would have its turn with the disabled ship first, its shells reducing one of the flak guns onboard to little more than twisted pieces and shards of metal, sent flying all across the deck. The Alaktu, firing its guns would be the one that would kill the doomed ship, a barrage of fire finally causing the ship to crack apart.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu][♀️] "Enemy fleet elimination confirmed by Radu air group. Mission complete. All vessels, return to formation."
[RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu][♂️] “Understood. Returning to formation.”

It was hard for anyone to not feel a sense of pride and accomplishment - victory like this, at the beginning of what would probably entail a whole campaign surely indicated favor from Ardatax.

by **Forest State** » Tue Jan 28, 2020 4:30 am

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 1
_{NORTHEAST IAPETIC CRISIS}

The Empire of Vojvodea is currently resting at an uneasy peace - but with tensions heating up in the southwestern country of Amiriyya, and an increase in attacks against the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, it appears that the current balance of power is about to be shifted by threats of revolution, civil war, and foreign intervention... With units across Vojvodea ready to step in and protect VIOC assets, both the elite 2nd Eagles Brigade and mercenaries attached to the Voronov noble house and corporate dynasty prepare to make a foray into the country.

Norisk, Empire of Vojvodea
January 12th, 480 AC

The Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, or VIOC, was an interesting corporation… Not because of what it did. No, that was rather mundane. The crown company was responsible for harvesting oil and some other natural resources, and while it did have some competition, being the ‘official’ Imperial company gave it some great benefits. But that wasn’t what put the company in the headlines, at least not most of the time. No, they were in the headlines because of their daring expeditions overseas, and more and more often, those had turned into clashes with locals and full blown conflict over oil of all things… The black liquid had an importance to it, an importance that people would sometimes forget. And it took conflicts like this to remind everyone of just how important it was, and how some people were willing to fight and die for it.

Well, that would be misstating things. They weren’t willing to fight and die over oil, but rather, the things that came from oil. Wealth. Escape from poverty. Political influence. The oil itself was just a liquid. All these things, though? They were more important than that, and all of them were made possible through the extraction of oil. The VIOC employed plenty of people who were all chasing those things, and they were quite good at what they did - good enough at what they did to sometimes anger the people of Amiriyya, the country of which a decent percentage of their oil production came from. They were, as some nationalists within the much smaller country said, not just extracting oil but the wealth of the land, under the watch of a government that let them do it.

At least, that was what the order of things had been in the past. The tides of political power were shifting, and kindling was being thrown on a situation that could explode at a moment’s notice. The question wasn’t really if at this point… But rather, when.

“Private military contractors working with the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company engaged the Shafadi Popular Front in open combat in the early hours of the morning, resulting in five dead contractors and up to thirty dead Shafadi militia fighters…” the newscaster read in the background, as Nina Chernova stood in the expansive kitchen of her family’s palace in Norisk, a television playing in the dining room that was equally large and located just beyond the set of cedar double doors. They didn’t spare expenses when it came to decking out their family grounds with the best materials - even if that required imports from abroad.

“The Shafadi Popular Forces represent the Shafadi tribe, an ethnic minority in Amiriyya which has pushed back forcefully against persecution from the rival Bahrizadi tribe in recent months… The current government is said to be dominated by the Bahrizadi, but weak central power in Amiriyya has allowed other groups like the Shafadi to arm themselves with professional military equipment and challenge the state military in several minority dominated regions. The Shafadi are also the most anti-Vojvodean of the major Amiriyyan groups, with a number of clashes having occurred on their lands over the rights to oil…” the newscaster continued.

“Nina! Come look at this,” a voice interrupted. The voice of Dima Chernov, her father. She set the knife that she’d been using to cut vegetables down, and stepped through the open doorway and into the dining room, where some of the members of her family were already gathered in anticipation for the dinner that was coming soon - the one that she was helping to make. She was a soldier, sure, but like plenty of people in this country of fighters, she was multifaceted. There was nothing saying she couldn’t be good at combat and good at pitching in help around the house, too. Not that they needed it, with their resources and ability to hire servants to handle most tasks.

Part of the Chernov grounds in Norisk

“Yeah, I could hear from the kitchen,” she said, looking up at the screen which was displaying the news. There was video to go along with it, of course… Video of some structure in the desert on fire, perhaps part of the oil fields that the recent firefight had taken place at.

“Crazy that this desert war is becoming more and more of a real thing, isn’t it?” her mother, Ekaterina, said. “We’re all happy that you chose the real military instead of running off and joining a PMC over there…”

This just drew a chuckle from Nina - while she did acknowledge the danger, she wasn’t the type to get petrified by fear just from hearing about the combat. No, it actually made her more interested. She’d always had an interest in military things, and hearing about asymmetrical warfare like this just intrigued her. Made her wonder what kind of tactics this tribal militia had used to get kills on a more advanced private military company with expensive equipment and good training. It also made her wonder just what the PMC’s response had been. All things considered, they’d dealt a blow to their enemy by killing thirty of their men and women in one night, even if they did take losses of their own.

However, not everyone thought like that. Some people’s minds simply went to the dangers of the situation, and told them to run away from it… Not that it would be a cool idea to go there and investigate the conflict from a close up lens. Her family, being nobles who ordered others to do the frontline fighting rather than doing the fighting themselves, leaned on the side of caution and staying away from danger zones. It made Nina the exception and not the rule.

“Come on, you know I would have been fine if I was out there. Do I look like the kind of soldier that goes down to some sandweller with a rifle and flak jacket forty something years out of date?” Nina said, raising an eyebrow as she glanced towards her mother. “They would have had more than thirty dead if I had been out there.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a good individual soldier, dear… Put yourself in dangerous situations like that and you won’t always come out on top,” Dima said. “What would have happened if you were standing in a building that was hit by a mortar or a rocket?”

“I would have dug myself out of it and started looking for my rifle,” Nina joked, not taking the warning that seriously - although she did understand the underlying point behind it. Sometimes, on these asymmetric battlefields, no amount of preparation or planning and training could save someone… They did hold several advantages as first worlders fighting against militias, but the fights also happened with less warning and could be… Sudden and urgent. There was no pitched battle. The battle could be like the one that had just happened, with an all out artillery and ground assault happening out of nowhere and claiming the lives of five contractors whose preparations hadn’t been enough to save them.

Just because she knew this, however, didn’t mean she shied away from it.

“They say these Shafadi militia forces are kicking up more and more of a ruckus,” Dima continued. “Have you heard anything about whether you might get sent there? I know the crown isn’t going to be happy about five of our guys coming back in coffins… I’m expecting to have to head down to Magnitograd to talk it over with the rest of the court about, you know, a response. I don’t know what that response would be but when we’ve talked things over in the past, spec ops has been on the table.”

And she was, of course, part of a special operations unit - the elite 2nd Eagles Brigade of the Imperial Vojvodean Army. They handled irregular tasks, and they frequently worked with military intelligence and with irregular groups that were friendly to their goals. They were no strangers to Amiriyya, the country much of the oil that the VIOC produced came from, but Nina herself had never been deployed there. She hadn’t been in the Brigade for long at all, even. She had, though, gotten high enough marks on her entrance into the Eagle Brigades that she was supposedly getting her own team soon - albeit, a small one, but she’d been told that she would soon be involved in irregular warfare. While that sounded obvious, considering the purpose of the entire unit, it meant she could expect to see action rather than handling things closer to home.

“I haven’t even met the team I’ve been assigned to, yet. When I get to Magnitograd, I think that’s the first thing they’re having me do. Maybe I’ll find out more about the first assignment there,” she shrugged. “Don’t worry for me too much or try to tell them to not send in the Eagles Brigade, eh? This is what I trained for… You guys did approve of me joining, right?”

Nina Chernova, 2nd Eagles Brigade

“Yes, but…” said Ekaterina. “That was during peacetime. There’s a difference between helping with counterterror and peacetime things and going into a warzone like Amiriyya-”

“It’s hardly a warzone. It’s some tribal militias making trouble, if I couldn’t handle that, I don’t think I could handle anything,” Nina reassured. “If we end up putting actual boots on the ground it will calm down after the first few days, I’m sure. And if it doesn’t, it will be good experience for the troops.”

“Or it will be a trap, like Sarvelia was some years ago…”

Sarvelia was, of course, another southwestern country which was at odds with the Empire of Vojvodea. Around twenty five years ago, it had been occupied by the Vojvodeans in retaliation for what they saw as interference into their operations in the region, but local resistance had proved to be enough to cause an eventual retreat following open warfare between the rebels and the occupying army. It was still debated which side was the winner of the war - the Vojvodeans had done a significant amount of damage to the country in the process of their occupation and had killed most of the targets they had shown up to take out: mainly militia leaders and military officials who supported them indirectly, who had fought against the VIOC after its initial large scale expansion into the region. The Vojvodeans hadn’t, however, occupied the country long term successfully.

Still, that wasn’t to say that the situation there was the same as the situation here.

“The Sarvelians are a homogenous people, you know,” Nina pointed out. “I’ve studied the war. They had the advantage of being united in their goals, and they weren’t killing each other. I don’t think the Shafadi even hate us the most. They hate other Amiriyyans, and I’m also not getting into the fact that they have terribly outdated arms and body armor… If they have body armor at all, that is. And well, medical equipment for that matter. I don’t think we’re going to repeat the Sarvelian War.”

“I hope not. Is it that bad that I don’t want something to happen to one of our favorite children?” Ekaterina asked, causing a shrug from Nina.

“You guys were all for me joining the military. Sometimes being in the military means having to do something for once. I’m just going to be happy if I get a chance to lead a team out there, even if there’s danger. ‘Least I’m going to do more for the country out there if they send in the Second Eagles than I would do sitting in a boardroom or something. My other siblings have always been better at that kinda thing than me,” she said honestly. Sure, it would maybe put her parents on edge… But she’d said what she meant.

At least out there, her fixation on the news and histories of the military world could be put to use rather than act as a distraction from some business degree or a position within a company owned by her family. That could be left to the siblings who it appealed to. And she, unfortunately… Wasn’t one of those types.

Her parents were silent, and she smiled to reassure them. “I’m going to serve the crown with some of the best forces our country has. Be happy for me… Please?”

“Very well,” Dima said, having accepted her little pitch on wanting to go. “If they bring up sending in the Eagles Brigade, I won’t oppose it… Although I have a feeling my vote would do little to change the decision regardless. The Tsar and the rest of the court, I think, aren’t going to take kindly to losing men in a place like Amiriyya. The kind of place where, as you said, they’re more in the news for being a broken country than being a threat to us.”

“Be safe,” said Ekaterina. “And don’t do anything stupid out there for the sake of a few adrenline rushes. I suppose… We can trust you to do at least that.”

“Of course,” Nina nodded, the smile still on her face, this time because she knew she had broken down their opposition. Somewhat, anyway. They’d still have their worries but she had done the best she could and she wouldn’t have to feel too bad if she did end up getting the call to action… Now it was just a matter of finding out when that call to action would come.

Lyachevo Municipal Aerodrome… It sounded like it was some mid tier regional airport, but in reality, this place was hardly used for civilian flights at all. The only ones that came in and out of here were corporate in nature, and most of the traffic was military - and yet, the Imperial Vojvodean Air Force wasn’t present here. The planes they had in this place were marked with a different livery, and different colors entirely in fact, but they weren’t foreign. These were the forces of the Voronov Group, which itself had produced many of the planes parked at this airfield with their Voronov Royal Manufacturing corporation, a company that worked under the instruction of the state and was owned and watched over by the noble House Voronov of Lyachevo. The people that lived at the nearby housing complex weren’t just pilots, ground crew, controllers, and others… They were also corporate employees, paid not according to military rank but according to their position within the company.

And sometimes, even while the potential for advancement and more cash than the military offered was enough to draw in plenty of pilots looking to live the mercenary dream, life in this company was strange.

“Avel Ryzhikov! Get your ass out of bed and report to the airfield briefing area immediately!” was the call that filled the hallway of the nearby apartment complex, only a couple of miles from the airfield… In the early hours of the morning, when many of the occupants were still sleep. But many of them happened to be awake, and the ones that were all shared one thing in common: working around the base in some capacity as either pilots or ground crew or something else. And for most of them, the banging on the doors had been enough to wake them up, but in the case of Avel Ryzhikov, this moment was absolute chaos.

The screaming, which Avel was sure had bled through into his dreams, was enough to startle him up as soon as he was awake. But, perhaps not staying on alert as much as the company wanted, Avel wasn’t exactly the type to sleep in his clothes. It was safe to say that just because the pilot was awake, he wasn’t necessarily prepared. “I’m gettin’ the fuck up, for Ouriel’s sake!” he shouted back at the voice on the other end of the doorway. Not one that he recognized. When visitors came in from out of town around here, it wasn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, it meant it was some higher up coming to check things out and possibly berate them for doing something wrong.

Even in a corporate military, they were not exempt from the general martial culture of the country and the military customs that came with this specific way of life. Just so happened that the one doing the berating in a mercenary group like this would be a high ranking official who hadn’t necessarily done much work of his own, compared to someone that had commissioned… Avel wasn’t exactly sure which was the better one to have screaming at your door at four in the morning, but there was no time to debate the matter mentally.

Looking at the clock and then dashing across the room to his closet, Avel pulled on a flight suit - since it seemed like they were going to be in the air soon - and grabbed the bag with the rest of his gear before running towards the main doorway of the apartment while struggling to get the second shoe on. There wasn’t time to waste by stopping and tying it properly, after all.

Lyachevo Municipal Aerodrome

Upon opening the door, Avel was indeed faced by some officer who was higher up than his own rank by some margin, who was looking specifically for him. For whatever reason.

“The rest of the pilots are already on their way over and you’re still getting ready!” the corporate official said in his face, and Avel simply nodded in response. Talking back would make it worse, he could assume. “Get to the airfield now, before your squadron suffers in performance because of your absence!”

“The hell is happening to warrant this?” Avel fired back while turning and starting to move, the official trailing behind him. “It’s four fucking AM…”

“New job from the VIAF and we’re going to roll out immediately. They've put this one on us rather last minute without much warning because they didn’t want anything to leak ahead of time. But now that we know, we’re supposed to get moving ASAP. Something that we can’t do if one of the pilots that’s supposed to be in the air is sleeping right now…”

“Well, I’m fuckin’ awake right now, so let’s do it,” Avel muttered under his breath, more to get himself ready for what was happening than anything. Wasn’t like he was well rested after being woken at four in the morning after staying up somewhat late under the assumption there would be nothing important to handle on the following day. That assumption had turned out to be dead wrong, and yet there was the benefit of an adrenaline rush right now… Although Avel didn’t fancy the idea of flying at night with low sleep. Apparently, whatever they were doing was important if these were the conditions they were flying under.

Once they were outside, it was only a quick truck ride to the airbase itself, which was situated a couple of miles away from the corporate housing complex where most of the pilots happened to live. It was decent enough accommodation that was offered for free, even if it wasn’t the greatest quality in the world per say. There was one specific building that a number of people were headed to, the nondescript office building near the main runway that was used for briefings and such. Avel quickly approached, before stepping inside to find most of the other pilots already seated… He moved for the first spot near the back which wasn’t taken.

“Now that the squadron is assembled…” said someone at the front of the room once Avel showed up along with a couple of others who shared his bad luck in running this late. “We’ll get right down to the task. The situation in Amiriyya is rapidly deteriorating - and through the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, the crown has called on us to make a rapid deployment to the region and provide security for both the oil company and for Vojvodean forces that will be deploying from both the Army and Carrier Division One. Setting up landing and refueling points and hangars is our first goal, and your squadron has been selected as the one to be deployed for this task. You’ll fly out in some hours tonight when the preparations are complete, and land in Guzan - it should be remote enough to safely set up a base without the need to worry about an immediate attack from the locals.”

“As for the situation on the ground…” the corporate officer continued, looking up at the pilots who were assembled within the room. “The VIOC has received word and seen eyewitness reports that the Shafadi are staging a coup at this very moment against the Bahrizadi controlled government, and this schism between tribes is set to turn into a full on race war with neither of them friendly to us. While this is all happening on the ground, we can expect the Amiriyyan aerial forces to fracture and split along tribe lines before taking to the skies… It will be your job to deal with them, of course. Nothing your first world aircraft shouldn’t be able to handle, right pilots? Let’s here what everyone thinks of this assignment!”

There was a roar from the crowd - of course there was, they were going to get to see combat… And against a weaker nation they had a pretty good chance to come out if it alive, all things considered. The Amiriyyan Air Force would put up a fight but it wasn’t like they were the same level of opponent by any means. However, there were other complications with this assignment that made it a bit more complex than simply coming in, shooting at the enemy for a bit, and pulling out in a quick manner… Complications that were still developing as they spoke.

A lot more was set to happen before the night was over.

by **Forest State** » Fri Jan 31, 2020 1:55 am

1821
S1E1
_{THE BIG BREAK}

On the outskirts of the Empire of Vojvodea lies the densely urban and vaguely dangerous territory of Sangju, with most of the population centralized in the regional capital, Sangju City. In this city, hustling and scamming to survive on a low income is simply a part of the local way of life - and one criminal organization has discovered the perfect way to do that: through entering the growing market offering blood money.

Sangju City, Sangju Autonomous Republic, Empire of Vojvodea
January 10th, 480 AC - Brillardere 50, 251 AE
1:30 PM
Collaborative post between Forest State and Valefontaine

There were a number of rough places on Vesta - not a lot of them were like Sangju City, however. It wasn’t rough because it was in the middle of a civil war or because it was completely impoverished… Granted, a lot of the population happened to be poor, but few people were exactly starving in the streets at the moment. It wasn’t threatened by conflict, and looking at the skyline might even make one think that this place was firmly in the developed world. What, then, set it apart exactly from any other ‘rough’ area? It was an urban jungle. The dangers didn’t come in the form of rebel attacks and artillery shells landing on populated areas, but rather in the form of gunfights between gangs and armored police vehicles pursuing them in the streets - from drug and gun raids and getting caught in the middle of revenge shootings rather than revolution or proxy war.

This concrete jungle which was home to a continual back and forth, in addition to being the most capitalist segment of the very monarchist Vojvodean Empire, could also at times breed innovation. Desperation tended to do that, and there were enough desperate people here who were willing to do whatever it took to move up and out of what they were in now. Because this wasn’t to say that you couldn’t make something of yourself in Sangju City. The towering skyscrapers in the city’s downtown area were a testament to the idea that it was possible.

Getting there? That was the hard part, and the part that everyone had a different idea about. Some went the corporate route and attempted to work their way up the ranks. Some joined the Imperial military or noble militias, eventually returning home with more than they had started with. Others, yet still, turned to the world of crime. Perhaps even the marketplace of violence. Around here, and around Vesta in general, there were plenty of people willing to pay to have someone else taken out. If someone was willing to embrace that principle, running out of work became much harder to do.

The gang known as the 1821 Gangster Mob, from the 1800 block of the formidable Jong-ro District, one of the most dangerous that the city had to offer, had fully embraced the principle.

Their foray into more dangerous fields of crime, into assassinations and political actions for a profit rather than simply moving drugs and guns into areas where they were forbidden, had brought with it new risks but had also paid off in the form of a new building - one that was only possible to acquire because of the new profits they’d brought in from this trade. The gang wasn’t exactly broke, but their leader, Ki-young Rah… Was dealing with some debts.

With luck, that would be resolved soon when they completed the next assignment they had accepted from the black market. This wasn’t the black market for arms, of course - it was the market for shadow actors willing to cause trouble and commit violence for the right price.

---==============---

Kostya Voronova, the runaway princess.

“Sure looks good…” said Kostya Voronova, the Vojvodean ‘runaway princess’ who had joined the group in its earliest days, avoiding certain duties to her family but proving her worth completely to her new friends in the span of time since she had joined. She took her culture’s fondness for military training seriously rather than some others who slacked off and just did what was required, and anyone who underestimated her would find out that she could fire her Vernost 64 assault rifle as well as any soldier in the Army could.

Ki-young Rah, who was standing next to her and looking up at the facade of the three story former electronics store that was now owned by them as a central base for this operation, couldn’t help but nod. “We’ll have more than this if the next job goes right. Hopefully, no debt,” he added to her statement.

The pair of them entered, Rah first and then Kostya, the latter flipping a light switch on as she followed. “Let’s see if these lights need to be paid…”

Slowly, despite her words, the place lit up to show an inside that had mostly been gutted. The former owners had moved everything out, leaving them with both a little bit of a mess to clean up, and a blank slate to set up in. “I suppose not,” Rah said, stopping in his tracks. “But there’s a lot of work either way… New sign, for one. We’re ‘1821 Security Services,’ not Jong-ro Electronics. And we can put the gun racks over there, body armor over there…”

He listed out a number of the improvements they could make to the place as Kostya walked deeper into it, moving towards the stairwell. “At this point half the budget’s going to end up fixing this place up and the other half going to the debt,” she chuckled. “Oh, and I’m going to set up the briefing room like you said before. Since y’know… We have visitors. New members.”

“Ah. We do,” Rah said in remembrance, the scheduled meetup returning to the forefront of his mind. They were bringing on a couple of new people today. This was going to be their first time meeting them, and they’d go over the next job that the gang was taking. It was, after all, much bigger than a ‘head here and shoot this person,’ type of task. In fact, the others didn’t even know about it yet… Rah and Kostya had debated taking the job or not, but as they had eventually accepted, both of them had acknowledged that they would need more hands on deck for it.

So, their little group had recruited outside the city for once. They were set to find out soon just how good or bad of an idea that had been.

It would not take long for the first of the new recruits to reveal himself. Outside, walking past street vendors and faintly corroded signs, he would emerge from the melting pot of peoples, scents and intermixed culture that spanned the streetside bustle. He would otherwise be mistaken for a wealthy businessman in the wrong part of town, were it not for the glimmering amulet of Muxen that dangled from his neck. Lowering his face mask, he tapped upon the glass front doors of the store, shooting the occasional glance of suspicion to his sides as he sought to confirm he was not being followed.

For the bad part of town that it was in, though, the street that the building was on could be called… Surprisingly decent. The building itself was ‘new-ish’ though it remained to be seen how long that would last with the rumored cheaper construction quality around here, and if it wasn’t for the lack of signs and products in the windows, it would be easy to assume that this place belonged to a regular business.

The door opened up not too long after the tap on the glass, Kostya having come back from elsewhere within the place to meet their visitor. “Oh, you’re the one that we’re waiting on… one of them, anyway,” she remarked, stepping back inside. “You’re in the right place, even if it doesn’t look like much of anything right now.”

"Great undertakings need not be commanded from a mansion," He assured. Hanging his coat at the entrance, the man approached a desk to set down his briefcase. With a click, its locks came undone, biometric scanner accepting his fingerprint and heartbeat alike. Within the case, his gear — an A-44 assault rifle, BA-29 pump shotgun, and a few spare grenades and magazines tucked in pouches within.

---==============---

A curious arrival introduces himself.

"I've already brought my equipment handy," He explained, closing and locking it once more. "Ah, introductions. Hurlanni's the name." The man introduced himself with a light bow. "At your service." By his name and accent, the man was from Maturoch. Far removed from its colonial heritage to the arid nations of Tsion, it prospered in its strategic position between the Alut Gulf and the Gamesu Sea. The cuneiform inscription upon his suitcase spoke for itself, really.

“Kostya… Voronova,” Kostya said to introduce herself, extending her hand. The last name, of course, was something that she said awkwardly because of the connotations that it carried; the expectation that she was some kind of noble, which to be fair, was the truth. Just because she was from House Voronov of Lyachevo, however, didn’t mean she was the type that only cared about politics and the family manufacturing business. She still considered herself as much of a fighter as anyone else, but not everyone believed that after hearing her surname - until they had more experience around her for themselves, at least.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, then." Hurlanni nodded, offering the Vojvodean woman a handshake. His grip was firm, his gaze a confident one — one could tell from his composure that he was a professional — or, in the least, he'd done this before.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by a rather notable looking Sangjulese man who came from one of the rooms connected to the main one. This was Ki-young Rah, the person who was responsible for them being here in the first place. As the leader of this sketchy ‘1821 Security Services,’ it was his money that had bought the building in the first place and bought much of the expensive equipment used by the group. It was also his gang that had provided the initial manpower…

Because Sangju City was definitely the kind of place where all it took was a change in titles for one of the city’s most infamous gangsters to go ‘legit.’ Not many had went down this path of acting almost as a private military company, however.

“Hurlanni, welcome,” Rah said, already familiar with who he was looking at. The hire had been his decision, after all. “I see you’ve already met the runaway princess-”

“Don’t call me that…” muttered Kostya.

Rah, however, continued. “The rest of the group should be here shortly. Upstairs, Kostya set up a room to look over the next job. I didn’t think we needed it, but… She’s the smart type, I suppose.”

Hurlanni chuckled to himself. "No worries.. I'm accustomed to sketchier jobs. A little bit of planning and coordination always makes my day, though. Good call."

“It’s a bit more than being asked to take out a couple corporate rivals in a ‘random’ shooting this time,” Kostya remarked about their latest job - one that’d have them work for an actual country for a change.

The other members of the group did show up soon after Rah had mentioned it - both the preexisting members Jung-nam Kwan and Hyo-rin Gyeon, who were both from here in the city and already had some experience with both Rah and Kostya, and newcomer Chan-woo Nang, who only had Sangjulese ancestry but had in fact been born and raised in Vojvodea. Nang was supposedly here after failing to remain in the military, which in theory made him a better candidate than most of the others they could have pulled off the streets.

“Let’s head upstairs, eh?” said Rah, starting towards the stairwell and looking back at the others. “Now that we have everyone here for the job. I haven’t said anything about it yet, to most of you anyway, but the secrecy is only because it’s a big deal… I’ll say this much, we’re going all the way to Tiamat.”

"Not far from home," Hurlanni silently mused.

The second floor of the building was filled with more empty rooms, probably where offices or some storage had been, but there was only one room in specific that they needed and Kostya led the group inside, gesturing to the table in the middle where a pair of folders were laid out in the middle. The ‘briefing room’ that had been spoken about, of course. She stepped inside first, followed by Rah and the others, and she stood close and watched as their leader picked up one of those two folders and prepared to break the news of their assignment.

“There’s multiple things going on in the region, so I wouldn’t be surprised if all of you have been focused on other things,” Rah started, opening up the first folder and looking through the contents again. “But one situation rapidly developing is the one in Avarece. It seemed that when the Council of Officers took over the country, that was that. There’s been conflict out of the news, though. These days, pro-democratic protests against the Council government and the woman they’ve got in power, Grande Ammiraglio Grazia Regina Evangelista, are wrapping up their second week. I’m sure some of you have an idea of what’s happening… as a recently ascended junta leader, it turns out Evangelista quite prefers foreigners to her own countrymen. Less of a chance of being deposed by the popular movement or backstabbed and sacrificed by the military that way.”

"Foreign mercenaries at times are more reliable than forces with local loyalties..." Hurlanni thought to himself, nodding wordlessly.

“The contract here is from Evangelista herself. Not the military, not the Council as a whole, or any other faction in the country. It’s important to remember the difference, because here, all the sides won’t necessarily remain that way for long. The Army is led by the more conservative Cosimo Terranova, who could attempt a power play - the intelligence services are headed by Fiore Nave, the spymaster who could do the same. Both are more established than our client and are politically powerful in their own right,” Rah continued.

“According to what I’ve been told, the number one order of business is doing something about the protest movement. Whether it’s destroyed, fractured, or rendered ineffective. Worrying about the military is pointless if there’s a protest movement in the leader’s backyard, and while the numbers aren’t world ending right now, it’s been going for a couple of weeks and growing with each of them. Success in this part of the job, I’ve been told, comes with a twenty five thousand lira bonus for each of us that’s involved,” he concluded. “We’ll get more details when we show up in the capital - from Nave’s men.”

"They wish us to nip the bud while things are early then, I suppose." Hurlanni concurred, smirking.

“The situation spirals too much and the rest of the Council decides to make a change in leadership to stop it. Or, the Council gets thrown out entirely and you have a massive civil war on your hands. There’s no faction popular enough to act as an heir apparent to the junta,” said Kostya. “The previous government that the Council replaced was hardly a popular one… just a good enough one. Not many people cared about the Prime Minster’s two cents.”

"And with neighboring Vesperanze aflame, I suppose there's enough of a crisis as is." The Maturochi thought aloud, stroking his chin. "I presume our transportation is in order?"

“Civilian transportation from Lyachevo to Travia,” said Rah. “The client doesn’t want us to make too much of a splash showing up… we’re more useful doing things from the background than openly. The flight will probably be handled by-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kostya said, cutting him off before he could mention her family. They did, of course, own an airport and a number of planes in Lyachevo of both the military and the civilian kind. One unmarked passenger airliner showing up in Travia, the capital of Avarece, wouldn’t look too out of place. Trade did happen between the two nations, after all, even if distance made it rather sporadic with only a few flights running between the cities in question on any given week. This warranted a nod from Hurlanni, as if his questions had been answered.

“Anyway… does everyone have all the supplies they’re going to need? Rifles, ammo, anything else? I think they’ll have some more stuff for us to work with on the ground that blends in better, but we should have our own stuff to start off with,” Kostya added, going through her mental checklist of things that needed to be covered. Naturally, Hurlanni had come prepared, bringing his own firearms... but could the same be said of his peers? He glanced to a few of the other young bloods, the question lingering on his mind.

Most of the others nodded and already had their own things, which made sense considering how they all either had gang or military backgrounds. They came from the kind of positions where not having weapons was a surefire way to get caught by someone who was more prepared.

“I think that’s mostly what we needed to cover, then… we’re supposed to depart in four days if everything runs on schedule, and then we begin working immediately,” Kostya said after taking her own look around the room. “I know for some of you, it’s your first time out the country, so let’s not forget anything before heading out then.”

It was indeed their first job like this and soon enough they would find out if they had the experience and skill for it - and they’d also find out how they worked as a group… until then, there were four days of waiting remaining.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Feb 02, 2020 9:41 pm

S1E3
_{GUNDANCER A.E. 251}

On the streets of the bustling Maturochi capital of Armannu, a special breed of mercenary thrives in their trade: Gundancers. Steeped in the art of gun kata, these soldiers of fortune fight for the highest bidder... often times the elusive Ekallu Tuqunu, the so-called Agency of Order. Wealth and the fulfillment of one's wildest dreams, aspirations and more serve to be gained from the shady suit-clad clientelle that act as Armannu's cosmopolitan powerbrokers.

Amidst it all, a particular Gundancer is presented with an opportunity to get into the big leagues.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gundancer A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 1
"Gundancer"

Auspicious District
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Brillardere 51, 251 AE
1:30 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

Armannu's vast urban sprawl stretched on for what felt like an limitless expanse, streets rife with the acrid redolence of gasoline and diesel. Narrow alleyways were equally filled with the scents of street foods, signs above gleaming with neon cuneiform, flanked here and there by advertisements for meaningless products. The consumerism contrasted perhaps oddly with the military propaganda here and there upon the walls of the Auspicious District's cramped alleyways.

Red sneakers against wet concrete, a lone figure dashed past the faceless denizens of the alleys. The street foods, the suspicious tech-vendors, and the occasional proselytizing Erabu priest... all of it mattered little to the figure that rushed through the tight corridors of the Auspicious District.

I can feel them gaining on me. Should've been cleaner with the kill. Six of them... better trained than most. I bolt past the bystanders, ignoring the alley-denizens and their filthy wares. As I round a corner, I find myself at a cold, barren dead end. One of them calls for me. His Neo-Euphemian drawl tells me the men are Eridanian. Real scummy types.

The figure was faced by six — each armed with the usual private tac getup: grey fatigues, black kevlar vest and protected helmets. Flashlights at the ends of their rifles, they took aim. "Game o'er, Gundancer! Why'on y'make it a hell'valot 'eizure onnus both n' throw down y'r weap'ns? 'uh promiss I'll be gentle!"

He sounds smug... evidently they think they've got me beat. They move fast, but I move faster.

The figure leapt, briefly vanishing from the illumination of the flashlights. With a thunderous clang, the attention of the squad was drawn to a dumpster — from which the figure had leapt with extraordinary grace.

I take my chances. I jump just high enough... my hands grip the rusty ladder of the fire escape above as if my life depended on it. Because it does. They empty their magazines into the fire escape as I hurry upward. I hear them curse in their Euphemian dialects, lunging with similar agility as they pursue me up the fire escape. An Eridanian fails to fathom how vast this city's infrastructure can be, I suppose.

---==============---

Gemeka herself.

To say Gemeka was in a bit of trouble was to put it lightly. The Gundancer had found herself on the run after the latest job putting a bullet through a Nasaqu dealer in the Pleasure District. It had been three Vestan months since the mysterious pale cyan drug had hit the streets, and already innumerable junkies were hooked, striving for just another sniff, just another injection... of the consciousness-expanding, cognition-enhancing psychedelic drug. In Maturoch, it was the working man's DMT, allowing one to expand the depths of the mind, meet 'god', confront their inner demons or simply stay alert, depending on the dosage. Needless to say, it had meshed well with the overworked bureaucrats of the bustling capital, and the Agency of Order had found itself confronting a crisis that seemed to only swell the nation's criminal underbelly.

She had probably pissed off the wrong people. Probably? No, definitely.

Gemeka continued up the steps until the rooftop had been reached. Surrounded there by the mess of antennae and air conditioning units, her thoughts shifted rather quickly towards how she'd turn things around. Finding cover behind one of the whirring air conditioning machines, she drew her sidearm, anticipating the arrival of her pursuers.

There was a certain, tangible tension in the air as she peered from cover momentarily, listening in on the sound of boots meeting the rusted iron of the fire escape.

They're in a rush. I've almost caught my breath when I see one of them lunge into the air. His gun is ready, but so is mine. I take my shot, and his blood decorates the air momentarily before he hits the ground with an agonized gurgle. Five to go. It all happens in a matter of seconds, and I'm taking cover behind a Noospace uplink before I know it. The bullets whiz past. I steady my breathing — easy peasy — and roll over to better cover. I take note of their faces in the half-second it takes me to get where I want to be. I take note, and I give them nicknames. Johnny, Jack, Shithead, Fishlips and Gavin, respectively. Shithead calls me a sand-n¥¥¥¥¥. I chuckle. Eridanians always go for that one quick.

"Man down! Fuh'n hell!" One of the mercenaries bellowed, assault rifle spraying away in Gemeka's direction. The rounds did a number on the concrete, debris littering the rooftop as the firefight continued.

The bullets are cutting around me. They're not happy. Gavin charges me first. I put a round into the fruit's throat that sends him off the edge, choking on his blood as he plunges to his death. I can't help but feel a little bad for the alleydwellers below. Now my pursuers are understandably very displeased. The footsteps draw near and I bid adieu, leaping over the alley as I make a rather rough rooftop landing, slipping into cover as I hear my enemy curse in spite. They jump in pursuit, and that's when I take a shot at Shithead.

I miss. Perhaps intentionally. All I see is the blood begin to pool around his groin as his arrogant macho talk is reduced to agonized, shrill screams of pain. He hits the rooftop's ledge, head first. I don't hear much of him as he plunges into the alley below, joining Gavin and the shitheels inhabiting the decrepit space. Three to go.

It didn't take long for the three remaining men to find cover along the rooftops, the sounds of their rifles reloading audible to Gemeka as she bode her time. The Gundancer steadied her breathing as her gaze turned not to the enemy, but to the adjacent building. Charging, she lunged over the edge as the bullets flew past, emptying a mag into the glass before crashing through, shoes first.

Already she could see the mercenaries, the cubicles behind her ripped to shreds under the duress of gunfire as she hurried to the next room. As it would become quickly evident, the room in question was a front office of sorts — to which it dawned on Gemeka as to whom the office she'd trespassed upon pertained to: the Department of State.

Shit. I've got no license to be intruding here. Nevertheless — my enemy draws near as I hear them crash in, following me with murderous intent. With swift grace, I reload my sidearm and take point before the front desk. Ardatax favors me.

As the glass door was practically ripped off its hinges, Gemeka came face to face with her three adversaries— and evidently she had been the quicker shot.

Johnny's brains decorate the ceiling as he plunges backwards. Everything plays before me at half-speed as I empty another round into his friend... Jimmy? Jason? Jack? Whatever, something like that. Fishlips charges me. I don't like staring at his ugly bastard face. not. one. bit. He's too quick for my pistol, I reach for my sheath— and before the freak, semi-human in figure, lays a finger on me, I've already driven my Patru (real finely made Maturochi blade, impressive gold finish) through his chest. He doesn't even realize it at first. He looks down at his wound, gasping. Mouth open, mouth shut... just like a fish. Fish lips. Aha.

With the final mercenary collapsing to the floor, blood pooling upon the marble flooring, Gemeka's attention was garnered by something else as she pulled the blade out of her victim... a soft mechanical whir. A security camera, pointed straight at her, soft red glow beside its lens. Someone was watching.

bing.

A pinging sound resonated through Gemeka's mind, giving the Gundancer pause as she suspiciously eyed the security camera. With a single thought, she accessed the messenger service, the NooSpace implant she utilized akin to a sixth sense... and was presented with a curious offer.

THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF YOUR MESSENGER LOG WITH USER @1251215.

1251215 Today at 2:01 AM
Nice work. Efficient, even.
I have an offer for you.
It will be worthwhile. 1300 Kaspu upfront.
If you're interested, come to the Alittum Hotel. I'll be enjoying drinks in the tiki bar.

Evidently I am their idea of a character. But what could possibly be in it for me? A trap? Maybe. Or perhaps... a real shot at making it big? Tell me what — I'll fetch my pay for this job, and I'll see what this guy's all about.

The Alittum Hotel was on the outer edge of the Financial District, its streets pristine and beautiful in the nighted hours which Gemeka walked. It was among the parts of Armannu where the late night was surprisingly quiet— no bustle of tech-scavengers bringing product and relic alike from the vast red deserts of the Mare Tempestas, no courtesans flanking the doorsteps of brothels, no bars booming with the voices of drunkards and partygoers... just the sounds of automobiles along the streets. It was white noise that became a silence in of itself, interrupted only by the occasional PA announcement in the distance, the occasional random person walking the street, the occasional couple enjoying the blissful peace of the night... here and there Gemeka noted a high-class restaurant or two, attendees similarly exuding wealth and class.

---==============---

Armannu street bustle.

It's almost like I'm beginning to expect everything to smell like the outer districts. Feels almost funny when it doesn't. Red light ahead, the cars ahead of me come to a halt. My attention drifts... the sidewalks. Now and then a bland suit or coat walk past, bureaucrat exec types. Reminds me of a story. Man is depressed. He's the Armannu University kind of person. Works for the Department of Defense. Asks his boss for leave, says he needs some time to recover. He gets his wish. Decides to go on vacation, as most shitheel bureaucrat fruits do. Cure his depression, discover himself. Next thing you know he's found decapitated somewhere in distant Ardikuthban. Wish granted. Moral of story... be careful what you wish for.

Soon enough, Gemeka brought her motorcycle into the parking lot of the hotel, stepping off as she dusted off her coat. Towering above, the hotel welcomed the Gundancer with its fountain plaza, dolphin statue flanked by flowing water. The art deco facade graced the walls of the hotel tower with golden figures of scantily-clad men and women alike, befitting the general aesthetic of the masterpiece that was the Alittum Hotel.

I look up at the hotel, but it's the dolphin statue that grabs my attention. Looks alien— and yet it's from a world we once called our own. My gaze turns to the glimmer of stars in the sky... Tsion glimmers distantly, the lessened light pollution in the District making it a bit easier to look on at the skies above. I'm getting ahead of myself. I approach the glass doors of the hotel, noting the two lion statues of solid gold flanking its sides. As if this place wasn't already obviously high-class.

Entering the lobby, Gemeka's eyes perused the rather opulent space— golden globe, ornate front desk and glowing chandelier aside, she had quickly taken note of the sign in cuneiform directing her to the tiki bar. Walking across the wide granite corridor, artistic murals to her sides, Gemeka continued on until she was greeted by the space in question. There was no shortage of tables, most empty, others occupied by shady business dealings. Hers would be no exception.

I walk past a booth and notice an old geezer monkey, hands feeling across the figure of the sultry maiden beside him as he talks business. Real shitheel scumbag, I can tell. He's talking to another man — something about stock prices in Zhu. Calls the other man 'sonny', as if I couldn't tell he was on his deathbed already. His libido sure isn't, though, judging by how he runs his hands along that woman's body. 'Sonny' says he's playing Vesperanze like a fiddle— making a fortune on buying and selling product. As I walk by the booth, the old scumbag whistles my way— until I put my hand to my holster. He gets the message, chuckles a little and continues blabbering on about the economy with his apprentice. Asshole.

Gemeka continued through the tables and booths, studying her surroundings. This was the tiki bar, was it not?

"Ah. So you arrive." The voice immediately brought her to turn around, noting a lone man by the counter. The coat and hat immediately told her that her mysterious acquaintance was, in fact, yet another cog in Maturochi bureaucracy. The rather generic form of dress complimented long, flowing black hair and a beard. He was shorter than her, but then again, so were most.

He eyes me up and down momentarily, before nodding to himself. I hope to myself that I came here for business, not to be ogled at.

"And your.. offer?" Gemeka questioned in a hushed whisper, suspiciously glancing about, as if to confirm no others were within earshot.

"You're a Gundancer, right? With the Agency of Order, I'm sure." He gestured to her coat pockets, to which Gemeka revealed her own identification. "I'm with the Department of State," He introduced himself, subtly revealing his cylindrical ID seal from an overcoat pocket, similar to Gemeka's own— though hers identified her with the Agency of Order. "Perhaps my penthouse would be a better place to discuss this sensitive matter?"

I can't say I'm sure whether or not he holds ulterior motive. I return his suggestion with a silent nod, to which he finishes his drink and leads the way to an elevator. The way up is quiet. I think to my last job and how Fishlips really died living up to his name. Fish lips... heheh. As the elevator hits the thirteenth floor I hear a ding. The man takes initiative and leads the way. He still hasn't told me his name.

"Your name—"

"It matters not who I am. You will receive your payment upfront, as I stated beforehand." He replied. Opening the door, he entered first. Gemeka upheld her guard as she followed, the man calmly flicking on the lights.

"As I was saying," He continued, walking over to a briefcase situated bedside, bringing it to a desk. With a click he opened the case, revealing within stacks of bills. "I'll be paying upfront."

"My task?" Gemeka crossed her arms in apprehensive curiosity, still suspicious of the man's motives.

"Familiar with Mithurtu Towers? It's one of my Department's finer offices in the financial district."

"I've seen it in the skyline and thought little more of it. What of the place?" Gemeka raised a brow at the odd question, noting the hotel room's balcony view of the Financial District skyline, including the building in question.

"As it stands, hostile mercenaries have been occupying the Mithurtu Towers for the past seven hours. You haven't heard about it because telecom lacks a license to air anything on the matter."

That's how it always is, isn't it?

"And this isn't particularly good because the Towers manage a fair deal of sensitive information pertaining to our department's policies." He added.

"Er, policies?"

"Exopolitics, Gundancer. We are not alone in our solar system... and I do not speak of Timorius. I pity every poor soul living on our moon." He joked, before continuing. "I speak of mankind's ancient cradle, Tsion. Something of grand scale has occurred, something grand enough to warrant a series of broadcasts... broadcasts the Towers possess the equipment to receive and process. I am not of the rank to know whether these broadcasts were aimed at us, or merely pin-drops in the vastness of space. Now, our government, and most others, have gone to fair lengths to not perturb the public spirit with this unsettling news— but this affair threatens to bring to public attention concrete evidence of such a matter."

Gemeka held back her thoughts. "And you want me to..?"

"Infiltrate the towers. The control room is on the penultimate level of the south tower. Set explosives and enjoy your pay. It will be pinned on anti-war malcontents, so worry not about your own image."

'As if I have one,' I think to myself. Before I can say anything, he's already lining my pockets with cash, stupid straight face contrasting my own bafflement. I've never been paid twice on the same day, but I suppose everything has a beginning.

"And, of course, your explosives." The man reached for another briefcase, handing it to Gemeka. "Twelve C4 sticks— just enough to rip all those server rooms to shreds."

"Got it."

The Mithurtu Towers stood tall before Gemeka, capped with vast suites of antennae and communications equipment. A grand spire completed the south tower's structure, towering at nearly a quarter of the building's height and stretching on into the skies above. A rail line ran through its length, mostly to better allow commuters to access the sprawling facility.

I stand there for a moment, admiring the building. Nice place, gotta admit. He's paying good for this job. Jumping down the tenement's rooftop ledge, I land on the sidewalk, dashing past some overcoat-clad bankers. This city never sleeps. My next leap brings me over the hedges and into the plaza. I am greeted by a limestone statue of yet another faceless bureaucratic administrator. The digital signs at the building's grand entrance warn that the complex is closed. I slip into a security camera blindspot and jump. By sheer luck, I grip the second floor ledge. Pulling myself up, I get the window open and hop in. I'm in some guy's office. Poor pencil-pushing bastard must've been done in by the mercs, sprawled out with a bullet-ridden back, overcoat stained with blood. You know how people piss themselves after they die? Not the least bit pleasant.

Carefully moving past the violent scene, Gemeka took point beside the door, which had been left ajar. The corridor was clear, revealing within a corridor that seemed to stretch on for quite a bit...

---==============---

The corridor.

Peering down the hall, Gemeka noted something that quickly brought her to slip back into cover behind one of the pillars: a security camera, looking the other way. As it silently pivoted her way, she stood dead still. There was a tense silence in the air as it stood still, pointed her way...

It's looking straight at me. I stand dead still as I listen in... at this point I'd even be able to hear a pin drop. I hear something in the ventilation... by the insectoid noises, perhaps a chitterthrall... pests, by all means.

As the camera turned the opposite direction, Gemeka slipped past, quickly finding cover behind another pillar.

The camera turns my way once more. I slip through its blindspot as I make a run for it. At the corridor's end I find a stairwell. Thankfully it's devoid of any enemy presence as I hurry up — maybe they prefer the elevator. It spans upward for more than I'd prefer... I've gone up thirty-two floors by the time I finally hear someone. He's muttering to himself about the people he's killed. He feels bad. That's too bad. As he unzips his pants to piss in the corner, I slip past. The stairwell isn't the best-lit place in the world. Sneaking and keeping to the shadows of the weak fluorescent lights above, I elude his suspicions, and he continues on without better semblance of a clue. I watch him as he ascends the steps, pushing a metal door to the 33rd floor as he disappears. It's strange when you remember your enemies are humans too. I've heard of snipers going mad because they begin to empathize with the target they've followed for days...

A sigh of relief escaped Gemeka as she reached the penultimate floor. Less bloodshed typically meant less trouble, which was always a good thing. Carefully listening in, Gemeka opened the door and slipped in. As one might expect, the room was exceptionally colder than the others — undoubtedly to keep all the computers cool. Gemeka could see her breath manifest before her as she carefully navigated the dimmed space, finding an office space of sorts preceding the control room and its computers on the floor in question.

The office had become a headquarters of sorts, mobile c-writers and smaller computers of varying purpose stacked about. A comms suite had been hastily erected over one of the ransacked cubicles, through which one of the mercenaries was intently listening to orders through a phone.

"Right. Understood, sir. Got it, sir."

Gemeka's eyes scanned the room. There were about four of them, mostly preoccupied with their own tasks. The cubicles were her greatest friend in this moment, providing all the cover she needed as she weaved through the space with great caution.

"So... foreign girls. You know how the old saying goes, don't you?"

"Sinican girls will do it for pearls..."

"Hm.. what about Terminus?"

"..dollars, perhaps.."

The door to the computer rooms lay ajar, to which Gemeka hastily checked her corners before slipping through. Already she felt a chill run up her spine from the cold. Compared to the other rooms of the floor, it was frigid — but Gemeka kept her composure as she continued ahead, listening carefully. There were footsteps — patrols were in the room, without a doubt... the Gundancer kept on high alert as she carefully navigated the corridors of supercomputers to her sides.

I see one of the mercs round a corner and approach. By then, it's too late. Sliding across the cool tile flooring, I manage a kick to his groin. Before he can scream, I've cupped his mouth. I drive the blade through his chest, arterial spray decorating my jacket as I hold him in a vice grip. His muffled struggling is nothing over the sounds of the computers whirring around us. Like an overdosing junkie, he spasms a bit more, eyes rolling into their sockets as I pull the blade out. He collapses to the floor, bloody gurgling muffled under my boot. I listen again... three distant pairs of footsteps, barely audible over the machines. Opening my case, I slip the first three charges in. I bother little with the dead body in the dark room as I make my way to the control room. By the time they find it, it'll be too late.

The room in question glowed a dizzying red, emergency lights active. Four men were busy tending to the bulky computers housed within, two tasked to assessing security camera while another two were seemingly in the process of downloading something, judging by the display on the screen...

"Not getting any faster here," One of the men complained, cigarette smoke escaping his mouth as he idly stood before the computer.

They're distracted. The job is easy, naturally. With my Patru I cut them down. One of them almost looks decapitated by the time I'm done. Head dangling by a few loose meat-strings, computer keyboard soaked with sanguine viscera. I'm about to plant explosives on the computer when I hear footsteps behind me. As I turn around I hear a deranged howl, and I see a man lunging at me. Dark skin, blue eyes, black hair. Probably from the north. Our swords clash as I dart out of the way, swiftly bringing the other man to a halt. I would have mistaken him for another one of the rest, but something's different. At first I think it's someone a little bit too high on the junk (many a brothel and drug den have taught me this lesson) but I take note of his movements. Too careful, too precise.

"Who the hell—?!" Gemeka steadied herself, hand clutching her sword. Her enemy was armed similarly, sabre gripped in his hand. Foreign, of course, but the man himself was not.

"Getting in the way of the truth, are you?" He scoffed. Glancing to his side, he noted the door to the server room. The sound of other footsteps was self-explanatory. "We have you outmatched. If you value your life... I'm sure you'll take the right decision. I am a merciful one, rest assured."

His eyes betray his words. I look into his for a moment — before I make a run for it. The adjacent maintenance rooms is boxes, cables and barrels as far as the eye can see. Sliding gracefully into cover, I make my first move. Clicking the detonator, flames erupt from the adjacent space along the penultimate floor. Surely nothing remains now of the server room, and the mercenaries hurrying through it. I am wise enough to anticipate my mystery opponent's survival, however, as he follows me into the maintenance room. The empty space, mostly construction equipment, spells opportunity to me.

"You're quicker than most," The man commented. With a swift motion he opened fire, Gemeka narrowly evading the shots as she plunged behind cover.

I can hear him coming. I reach for my sidearm. As he rounds the corner, I open fire — and he rolls aside with a swiftness that betrays the training of any ordinary mercenary. Before he can return fire, I roll over to better cover — a stack of concrete bricks atop a pallet. He predicts my move, and I hear the bullets shoot past. I peer to fire, but he moves too swiftly. I get pinned down against the cold flooring, not far from a pile of cables. I struggle under his grip, but he's got me good.

"My client is going to enjoy this compensation," He joked, chuckling to himself as he kept a tight grip on her hands, sidearm to Gemeka's head. "It's survival of the fittest here in Armannu! You're a Gundancer too, you should know it just as well as I. I'm sorry.. I really am.. but these are the rules."

I can feel a sweat come on and I can feel it stick. Before he can achieve anything, I knee him in the groin and send him staggering back. He curses as he tries to recompose himself, but by then it's too late. With cables in hand I charge him, wrapping them around his neck as I send him crashing through the glass windows. His scream is cut off by a loud crack, and I wait a few moments before reeling him back up. The pallor of a dead man's eyes... the glazed-over stare. You never really forget about it. I check his overcoat and I find a cylindrical seal — he's with the Department of State. Yet my client's also with the Department of State... I blink a few times. Can't help but roll my eyes. Bureaucratic infighting makes the world go round.

Getting up, Gemeka left the corpse of her nameless opponent, beginning back to the control room... the flames were still burning in the adjacent ruins of the server room, and yet her curiosity had been piqued... what of the broadcasts? They were beyond even her client's OPSEC... and there was little to be lost when no cameras were watching. Accessing the computer before her, Gemeka was greeted by an unusual display upon the screen. Someone clad in bulky armor stood on the opposite end, the room riddled with bullet holes. Gunshots could be heard just beyond the doors, which had been hastily barricaded.

"Viss is ... Staff Sarjent ... Praxia Tears-for-Fears D. Ure ... broadcasting from ... Attonfield Observatory ..."

It quickly occurred to me I was listening to a broadcast from an entirely different planet. I knew, but I'd never really given it serious thought. This wasn't just something on Timorius, no — it was far removed from home. Neo-Euphemian sounds much more sophisticated than whatever bastard dialect was left behind. Tsion people are so short... huh.

"... viss broadcast ... iss intended for all citizens of the Federal States ... a finul plee to unyt against the great vestroyer, Ricky Mauz ..."

The gunfire gets closer in the video. I watch intently. The doors fly open, the furniture doing little to stop what comes next. Blonde broad in armor flies in, face half-blown off. Person in the video turns around, screams in terror. Two shots to the gut and she falls over, agonized screaming and weeping. Another chick strolls in with some friends. She's got chestnut hair, light skin. Pretty good looking. They look like mercenaries. Some cool-looking soldiers with them, too.

"Hostaje secure!"

They bring out a younger girl, glasses. Remove a collar of some sort. Armor chick is still reeling on the ground, coughing up blood. She looks up to her.

"You took everything from me... damm you!"

"Ehh? You're sounding a little crazy, don'tcha think? I dunneven know you!"

Armor-chick tries to put up a fight. Chestnut-hair subdues her, boot to the bitch's face. Gotta admit, they put on a good show. I'm glued to the screen. Armor-chick still tries to struggle. Says something about Chestnut-hair ruining her life. Seems personal. Not for Chestnut-hair, though. Kinda funny. Pulls the pin on a grenade, everyone gets to cover... glasses girl doesn't. She stands there, hand outstretched. The explosion fizzles away as if it were nothing. A star-child? Once in a green moon you see types in Armannu's deepest reaches that have uncanny powers. Fighting one's an even harder ordeal. Armor-chick is shocked. And then chestnut-hair blows her brains out. It's unceremonious, it's out of the blue — and I chuckle as if it were the punchline to some joke. Bang. That's it... we receive some broadcast from Tsion and that's it.

It's getting hotter up here... flames getting close. I've had my action fix for today. I set the C4 and make for the window, cable in hand... after I take a compact datakey with the video on file. Just in case. Anyways, I take the leap, crash into the floor below... right as I detonate the charges. The explosion rocks the building... doesn't sound too good. I run like hell.

I slip out, eluding the lines of first responders and onlookers as I reach a nearby rooftop. I hear a ping...

YOU ARE CHATTING WITH USER @1251215.

1251215 Today at 6:07 AM
Excellent work, Gundancer.
Come to the Alittum Hotel to receive your reward.

"..all in a day's work.." Gemeka muttered to herself.

The Balashi Cafe was among the finer places in the Financial District, and it was also Sin-Nasir's favorite place to spend the mornings. As fate would have it, he also had a clear view of the Mithurtu Towers, the south tower smoldering in the distance with communications spire left bent, crooked and most certainly structurally unstable...

---==============---

Another faceless bureaucrat in a sprawling system.

I enjoy my coffee black. I particularly enjoy the eastern sunrise. What I don't particularly enjoy is the sight of the skyline on fire. TV says it was the terrorists — anti-war demonstrators, traitors... people can call them what they want, I know they lack any semblance of a spine.

Sin-Nasir took another sip of his coffee, mildly disheartened at the sight of the terror attack. For all he cared, their fleet could — and should act in the interests of the state in Vesperanze. Setting his cup down and looking away from the sight of the billowing skyscraper, he found himself faced with a man in overcoat, suit and tie, no different than himself.

"Sin-Nasir, Department of State, Archives and Recordkeeping?" questioned the man, revealing his cylindrical ID-seal. Two masked soldiers stood behind him, rifles in hand.

"That would be me, yes." Sin-Nasir nodded, showing his own identification.

"Name's Nigsummulugal. I'm with Transfers and Promotions. Says here you filed a request on Fermidore 41, 250 AE for a transfer to External Affairs and Retrieval?"

"And I was rejected, yes," Sin-Nasir bluntly replied. "What of it?"

"The man who took your job, he is, uh.. how do I say this... he is among the deceased of last night's attack." Nigsummulugal explained, solemnly bowing his head. "As such, your request for transfer has been re-reviewed, and... accepted." Proffering Sin-Nasir a pen, he gently pushed a receipt book to his end of the table. It was filled with papers tinged a light pink, and the form intended for him seemed about ready for his signature. "Sign here, please."

I review the document. 'I, ______, hereby accept my promotion to External Affairs and Retrieval. The rest is mostly legalese. I keep an open eye for the fine print... just in case. No sleazy tricks. I double-check. I reach into my overcoat and produce a small UV light. I scan the paper, and then I scan it twice. No tricks.

"Very well," Sin-Nasir calmly replied, signing the document. Taking the book, Nigsummulugal produced a blue book from his coat, setting it down on the table and pushing it across, tapping the blank space.

"Your receipt. Same again, please."

Sin-Nasir perused the document, once again repeating his process. After a moment's hesitation, he signed the document, sighing. To this, the man placed yet another form on the table, this time yellow in color.

"Excessive, no?" Sin-Nasir questioned, glancing up to the man.

"Of course not! This is a receipt for your receipt."

With a grumble, Sin-Nasir perused the document's contents briefly, taking a sip of coffee before he scanned it with his UV light. Genuinely... no tricks. As his pen met the paper, the man interrupted him. "Ah! Press a little harder on the pen for this one."

Complying, Sin-Nasir filled the third form, the man smiling and pulling back the other two documents. "Thank you, sir. Have a wonderful day.. and welcome to External Affairs and Retrieval!" Getting up, Nigsummulugal took his leave, troops departing with him.

I study the receipt I have been left with. It says I work at the Mithurtu Towers. Was it not just..?

Sin-Nasir sighed. It was going to be a long day...

I'm given a tour of the building by a sultry maiden with a fine figure. Her name is Amarsin. Her golden necklace and earrings are probably worth ten times my glasses. She walks a bit ahead of me, to give me a nice view... and I do not speak of the building. Plenty of the walls are still riddled with bullets. Some bodies are still being carted out.

"Your office should be riiiiiight... here! Right next to mine! Hehe~" Smiling, Amarsin gestured to one of the office rooms.

"I see.. thank you." Sin-Nasir approached the door to his office. As fate would have it, the knob had been completely destroyed by the terrorists, bullet holes marring the bland metal door as it stood slightly ajar. The room number, 'C-15', hung from a single screw. "..when will my office be.. repaired?"

"Oh! Uh... I hear the boss is still sorting things out with Engineering and Repairs. He has to fill out a few forms."

Giving the door a light push, I'm greeted by my predecessor, bullets riddling his body. Urine sits pooled beneath his corpse. The room stinks of death, and I gag for a moment before covering my nose with a handkerchief.

"...Muxen give me patience." Sin-Nasir murmured.

"Oh— oh God—" Evidently, Amarsin was less accustomed to these things than Sin-Nasir. "..uhh... yeah, we still haven't gotten the paperwork sorted out with Corpse Retrieval—"

Ignoring her, I grab the body by the shoulders and drag it out into the corridor. I find a bottle of bleach and mop in the corridor, and head back into my new office to mop away the blood and urine. I'm not one to rely on every branch and bureau of this department.

"...Oooooor you could do it yourself, yeah, sure! Uhh.. the body will cause a stink in the hall, won't it..?"

"When it's a problem for enough people, they'll sort it out quicker than Corpse Retrieval." replied Sin-Nasir, chuckling. "I for one don't plan on dragging a dead body through the entire building."

Amarsin shrugged. "I guess you're right. Oh— right! Your first job... boss says you're gonna share my workload for starters—"

She disappears into her own office, ignoring the lifeless rotting corpse of my predecessor in the hallway. She emerges a few seconds later with stacks of avila folders. Walking past me, she sets the stack on my desk. A few of the folders at the bottom get stained by the blood still spattered across my desk. I sigh.

"..our workload being?" Sin-Nasir questioned.

To this, her reply seemed almost hesitant. "..supply writeouts. Well! Good luck, Sin-Nasir. I'll be in the adjacent office if you need anything."

Amarsin left the broken door swinging for a few seconds as she took her leave. Sin-Nasir stood in his office for a moment, noting the window behind his chair was open.

Whatever.

Shutting the window behind him, he assessed the stack of papers. The c-writer was intact, at least.

I adjust my glasses and scan through the papers. Supply writeouts... I quickly find out that these are no mundane forms. I am faced with shipments of hundreds, no, thousands of rifles, hundreds of kilos of cocaine, rockets, missiles, bombs... everything imaginable. They're all directed to one client: the 'Frente Nacional-Volquista', the National Volkist Front of Vesperanze. I labor now in a new field of business: the field of gently pushing the strings behind a war.

I get to work.

by **Forest State** » Tue Feb 04, 2020 10:26 am

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 2
_{THE BATTLE OF THE VOJVODEAN EMBASSY}

Following an uptick in hostilities between the revolutionary Shafadi tribe of the nation of Amiriyya, and attacks on the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, the Vojvodean authorities have made the decision to evacuate the embassy in Javan. The Task Force 17 detachment of the Second Eagles Brigade has been deployed to Javan to aid in overseeing the evacuation effort, in what will soon turn into a desperate battle between rebels and foreigners as the city descends into disorder and violence…

Javan, Tribes of Amiriyya
January 17th, 480 AC

Javan, an ancient city, had seen many conflicts… It was home to multiple Amiri groups, a dozen or so ethnicities living within its borders in close proximity with each other as well as even more subgroups existing within the major ones - but two particular groups dominated above all, and they didn’t always see eye to eye. In fact, for much of their history they hadn’t seen eye to eye. These two groups were the Shafadi and the Bahrizadi, and once again, their conflict was shaking the nation. Except this time, as both sides geared up for bloodshed within the capital of Amiriyya, the place that had been contested by the both of them since before the current iteration of Amiriyya was even a nation, the foreign aspect was one that had to be considered.

As word spread through the region like wildfire that the Shafadi Popular Front was making moves to seize the country and depose the Bahrizadi led government, and attacks from the Shafadi on the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company had picked up, the decision had been made by the crown to close the Vojvodean embassy in Javan before the situation deteriorated further. It was only a matter of time, after all, before the embassy became one of the next battlegrounds - as soon as the Shafadi weren’t distracted by taking out the government that they believed persecuted them, it would likely be the first building in their sights as a notable symbol of the foreign presence within their country.

Of the Vojvodean forces that were being sent in for the protection of their assets within the country, and potentially even offensive action against the Shafadi if word was received from the crown, the first belonged to the Eagles Brigade… A special unit of the Army which was trusted enough to handle the task of making sure everyone was able to get out of the embassy without suffering harm at the hands of the crowds that were likely to gather outside soon enough. The Shafadi march on Javan had already begun. It was just a matter of time until they turned on the foreigners rather than their own fellow Amiri.

“What is an Amiri, anyway?” questioned Margarita Medveda, the second in command of Nina Chernova’s squad and the one who was currently sitting next to her on board the helicopter transport which was quickly speeding above the city - the doors were of course, open to allow for a quick exit once the time came, and to allow for shooting out the side if anything kicked off while they were still up here. One side effect of that was that they received a great view - the place wasn’t rich, that was for sure, but that gave it a certain charm. It was far different from the surroundings they came from…

Not entirely desert but it wasn’t lush and green like Vojvodea. Rather, the wealthier Amiriyyans lived in villa style compounds while the vast majority of the nation inhabited small concrete buildings that were inexpensive to set up but almost blended together from high altitude, appearing as if they were nearly built on top of each other thanks to the tight density. It wasn’t a fun place to fight an urban battle, which was maybe part of the reason there wasn’t already a troop presence here given the tensions. There were contractors, sure, but the military proper had stayed away until the situation pushed them to respond. As if to prove the thought about how dangerous the streets were, crowds of people could be seen scattered in various locations as they moved closer to downtown, where the important buildings were.

Some of the early scenes in the city of Javan.

Not crowds, really. Mobs.

Most of the people were unarmed but it only took a few armed people for things to pop off and turn ugly - from up here in the helicopter it was impossible to see just how many people in these mobs were armed, but Nina could predict that whether they were or not, they were angry. There were some smoke plumes rising from the concrete shacks and compounds that were surprisingly close to the embassy and the district around it. They were aligned with the Shafadi Popular Front, perhaps, and working on purging their ethnic rivals now that the government was overwhelmed in dealing with this supposed coup.

“Depending on who you ask, the Amiri are either one ethnic group or a collection of people who hate each other,” Nina responded, drawing from her studies on the region. This was the kind of thing that she looked up in her spare time, because it was interesting to her… Even before she had joined the Army, been assigned to the Eagles Brigade’s Task Force 17, and deployed here. It helped now to have knowledge on it already, even before it became the most relevant thing to her work. “Things haven’t always been like this… There used to be unity and brotherhood between the Shafadi and the Bahrizadi, but something changed down the line and the country’s suffered from it.”

“What do you think made them start hating each other? Shouldn’t they be worried about, you know… Becoming like Guzan? Or the threat of the Sarvelians?” Margarita asked, referring to the anarchic zone to the south of Amiriyya that had once been under the watchful eye of a number of autocratic but decently competent Shahs. Revolution and the fracturing of the military had deposed the Shahs, but the country hadn’t left the state of violence that it had entered. These days, the formerly wealthy capital city as well as the rest of the country were mostly inhabited by roving gangs and military groups which used an iron fist to take what they wanted, not any better than the regime that had preceded them. And at least back then, the nation had possessed a couple of shining cities to point to and say that things were doing fine. That was the case no longer.

“If we’re being reasonable? Yes. Politics isn’t always a reasonable thing, however,” Nina said, still staring at the smoke plumes and the mobs that were active below. It was surprising not that there was a conflict, but how fast it had arisen, and how it had quickly turned intense with fighting on the streets and death squads moving through the city looking for ethnic opponents. She supposed that was the consequence of putting this many people that didn’t get along with one another in such a tight area.

“I don’t think being Amiri means much anymore,” she continued. “Sure, there’s some that cling onto the identity, but if the groups that make up Amiriyya are going to fight like this… The Shafadi and the Bahrizadi that is… We may as well be looking at Shafadistan and Bahrizadistan insetad of one country. The only thing that ties them together is living here, and I guess some cultural elements - but it doesn’t matter if they hate each other.”

“Guess I just wonder where it started,” said Margarita, her eyes also drifting across the scene as they approached one of the richer sections of the city. Rich by Amiriyyan standards anyway. This district wasn’t going to blow anyone away with wealth but there were apartment buildings in addition to a general sense of higher class compared to the borderline slums they had been flying over a minute earlier. “Since I don’t remember it being like this before.”

“Flaring tempers and ambitions and Amiri that want to live like Vojvodean nobles,” remarked the soldier sitting on the other side of Nina, Yaroslava Androyeva. “I blame it on the Shafadi… That tribal leader of theirs specifically, Parisa Sorouri. She’s the one that they’re trying to put in charge with this coup of theirs because her daddy was a big warlord with the Shafadi and now she thinks she’s all that. Probably thinks its her birthright to lead her people to running the country or whatever. All she’s doing is leading them into something they don’t want none of.”

She was referring, of course, to the fact that the actions of the Shafadi Popular Front had led to Vojvodean soldiers being deployed to the country and the surrounding region, and likely conflict between the nation and the tribal group - if not the nation as a whole. “If we run into her, the kill’s mine. I could use the favor of the crown more than most of you.”

“Fair enough,” said Nina, nodding. They were nearly to the location right now, and thus they started to bleed off speed and descend. “But if she ends up in front of my sights…”

“Whatever, I’ll beat you to grabbing her tags,” Yaroslava said, opening one eye that had been closed as they started to descend towards the embassy complex - which itself was designed to be more like a fortress considering the place it was in. High walls surrounded the outside of it to help prevent anyone from rushing it and to give a barrier against any vehicle based attacks, and the only ways in and out were highly defended checkpoints with military contractors set up at them and standing close to the border, assault weapons at the ready in the event of a breach. Under usual circumstances there would be checkpoints further down the road, but those had been closed for now to reduce the chances of an attack on them. The tension was making everything run different at the end of the day.

Their sniper, Galina Lavrova, made a head cutting gesture as she looked up herself, smirking slightly while they touched down on the roof of the embassy. “You guys care about hitting someone important, I just see targets out there,” she said, her attitude about the entire thing somewhat jovial. The squad was soon enough getting up and moving out the open doors of the helicopter, quickly departing for the building itself as the helicopter rotors started to wind down. It would stay here for now - while there was some risk presented in leaving it here, there was a distinct chance they would have a rapid extraction.

They quickly descended into a stairwell which would take them into the complex, and the squad’s arrival had apparently already been publicized to the staff. The group of people that soon approached them was led by someone in a dress shirt that also wore a formal badge, apparently, marking some high status within the embassy. “Welcome to the Vojvodean embassy in Amiriyya,” the man said, stopping in his tracks and offering a salute to the incoming soldiers. “I have been informed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that your unit is here to oversee the evacuation of embassy personnel. Please inform the staff here if there is anything you need towards completing this goal.”

It wasn’t uncommon to hear formal speak like this from someone working with the Vojvodean nobility - growing up around it, Nina nodded silently at first before she opened her mouth to say something as the leader of the group. “Nothing for now. I’d like a situation report on what’s going on in the city, though. We saw smoke plumes and crowds in the street on the way in. Is the situation under control right now?”

“Under control by the thinnest of margins. The streets are currently occupied by Shafadi mobs, aligned more or less with the SFP, either directly or indirectly. Currently, these mobs are focused on moving through the city at an astounding rate and committing all manner of atrocities against the Bahrizadi population… Houses being broken into, public centers burned, and Bahrizadi citizens being attacked on the streets. There will likely be a reprisal - the Bahrizadi aren’t pushovers, they are in control of the nation after all - but right now, they’re mostly surprised by the speed of the Shafadi uprising. As such, there’s no real response… Yet,” the man in the dress shirt explained. “For now, this is keeping the attention of the mobs off of us. We cannot expect that to last forever.”

The group of soldiers and embassy workers started down the corridor to head deeper into the complex. “However, we do have one card to play that may help us. Carrier Division One is aiding in the evacuation effort of the embassy and as you know, the evacuation helicopters are set to come from the Fyodor Zavoyevatel. The air wing attached to this carrier is also at your disposal - during the time that the evacuation begins, aircraft will be operating in the area and prepared to aid you in the potential fight against overwhelming numbers.”

Nina nodded - it could get messy if they were bringing in air strikes. But then again, the point that the man had made about overwhelming numbers was true. There were a lot more enemies out here than there were contractors and special forces, and she had the feeling it wasn’t just going to be a clean exit from Amiriyya for the embassy staff - or the Eagles Brigade for that matter.

“You want to earn something, fight for it,” said Yaroslava, punching her in the arm to wake her up somewhat as they kept moving through the halls. It was a true point, one of the things that their nation had been founded on… The idea that fighting was a requirement to attain what one wanted, which in the early days had simply been a stable home following the collapse of the original UMS backed colony. That didn’t always mean fighting in the military sense. It could just mean doing something that was hard or uncomfortable… In this case, though, the words might be literal.

It all depended on how the night went, and Nina wasn’t happy with their odds of getting out without fighting. “I’m not one of the ones that joined for the honor of it while hoping we stay at peace forever,” Nina said simply, nodding in agreement while leading her group of soldiers deeper into the belly of the beast. “We’ll find a good spot to defend, hunker down, and see just what these Shafadi sons of bitches plan on throwing at us…”

The evening had gone by without any extra events, however, which had only caused the tension to go through the roof. Everyone knew there was going to be a conflict by now but the problem was determining when it was going to happen and whether or not starting it was the right idea. There were, of course, a couple of situations where intervention seemed like an option… Shafadi militants showing up and threatening the wall before leaving, putting all of the defensive personnel on alert. The sounds of combat outside getting closer and bringing the defenders towards the wall to check out where it was heading. And now, possibly the most tempting spot to step in…

It seemed that a massacre was going to happen right outside their gates.

“The Shafadi are here again! In numbers!” had been the call from one of the low level workers who had been moving by the window only to see the street outside filled with a few of the mobs that had been roaming around the general area. They had now converged on the avenue in front of the embassy, and it seemed they were going wild around the buildings across the street from it, continuing their purges… Of course, for now, it was all directed at their ethnic rivals rather than the Vojvodeans. At the moment, the mob wasn’t in the mood to incur the wrath of a foreign nation, and was focused on their main dispute.

The fighting intensifies.

The chant in the street was “Death to the Bahrizadi overlords,” and it seemed they were serious about bringing that out.

As Nina and her team quickly got up from their position on the lower levels and started up towards the roof, they could hear the sounds of the conflict increasing… Rocks being thrown through windows, cars being set on fire, and most notably, they could hear screaming… People dying out there already, around the same time that the sun started to set. Things tended to get more wild at night and that was apparently the case with massacres, too. “The hell is happening out there?” asked Nastya Dyatlova, one of the members of the team who was following behind Nina.

“The same thing that we saw from the sky earlier… It’s just reached us now and it’s a whole lot closer,” she said, not making too big a deal out of the situation. That wasn’t to say that hearing all of it didn’t unnerve her - of course it did, it wasn’t like she had seen combat before, let alone civilians being massacred - but she wasn’t about to make it sound like something that her squad should panic over. Not all of them were experienced either… And keeping their calm had a value at a time like this.

“More violent, too… Or it just seems that way because we can hear it,” said Margarita, sticking close to her commanding officer while they went up a few flights of steps and, after heading up the winding stairwell, emerged on the roof and quickly pushed the door open. Nina had binoculars in hand but it turned out they didn’t need them - they could see into the street just fine, considering this mob had set itself up on the avenue that was just ahead of their front gate.

“By Ouriel…” Margarita said once she had a view of her own, standing next to Nina. Made sense that she was the one that had that reaction. She was the softer of the two, both in voice and nature. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t cut out for special forces, but she wasn’t exactly the same as someone like Yaroslava who had joined expecting the bloodthirsty and desperate side of combat and even relished it. Nina, on the other hand, considered herself somewhere between the two. She wasn’t necessarily an ‘out there’ type but rather a socialite at heart, and yet she was willing to do whatever was necessary for her duty to the crown. If that meant coming out here to the desert and putting down a troublesome nation, she would do it and she had already mentally prepared herself for the kind of bloodshed that came with this kind of a fight.

“We can’t save them. Firing shots into that mob would only incite them and if we’re going to fight, we want to do it right as the evac is happening and not any earlier. If it happens any earlier… We’re not going to be able to guarantee that everyone gets out,” Nina said quickly, looking to the rest of her squad.

“What’s taking so long for the evac to happen?” asked Vlada Kurvatova, the last member of the squad, her hands somewhat tightly gripping her Vernost 64 AR as she spoke.

“We got here before the carrier did,” Nina said, letting out a brief sigh. “It’s going to be in position before the end of the night but before that we need to hold out and handle any… Problems that come up until then.”

The mob had noticed them on the top of the building but nothing had happened, the crowd still somewhat unsure about the idea of attacking the heavily armored Vojvodean embassy when they had a number of Bahrizadi targets right in front of them that they could strike at… Defenseless targets, even. Nina and her squad stood on the roof of the building and observed the chaos on the avenue ahead, watching as people were beat down by the mob with makeshift weapons from pipes and planks, and even machetes and long knives, practically anything the common person could get their hands on being used as a weapon in this case.

“Would the Bahrizadi be… Thankful to us for helping them?” asked Margarita, practically ignoring the previous statement from Nina.

“If you’re saying they would be our allies or something… I don’t trust ‘em, they’re still Amiri at the end of the day. Might have been the Shafadi that went after our oil company, but the Bahrizadi weren’t complaining about it,” Yaroslava said, showing her own cynical nature a bit more. “They would only align with us for real if they were smart, and they aren’t, considering they let the Shafadi problem get this big in the first place… If I was running things they’d get a good taste of what a boot to the face is like.”

“Supposedly, that’s the reason behind the conflict right now. They like to say that they’re oppressed, but I have no idea how true it is…”

“Yeah yeah yeah... Propaganda. They’re the oppressed until they’re the one with the other side underfoot. Then it’s their jackboot crushing the other side’s skull. Literally, if what I’m seeing now is any indication.”

She pointed out a scene in the street where a Shafadi rioter had just stomped a Bahrizadi to death who had just been pulled out of his car. The violence wasn’t slowing down… There was a building on fire, black smoke starting to pour out of the windows after molotov cocktails thrown by rioters had set the place aflame, the cars passing through the street were being stopped and Bahrizadi drivers were being pulled out, and some cars that had been on the side of the road were just outright burning by now. Of course, there were no government services to deal with this. The government right now was the side that was the victim in all of this, and there would be no firefighting response when all of the government agencies were fearing for their lives.

Gunshots erupted as a quick battle happened between the mob and a small group of Bahrizadi looking to get out of an apartment building - but they didn’t have numbers on the mob, and while they were able to take out a few people, they were both shot down and rushed and overwhelmed by the rioters. These apartment buildings, it seemed, were where most of the bloodshed was coming from. There were men dying on the outside in the one sided fighting, women being dragged out by the Shafadi militia for devilish purposes, and every so often, another building would catch fire.

It was a sign of what they would soon be up against themselves.

“This is what things were like when they first collapsed in Vojvodea,” Yaroslava remarked, watching intently and placing her hand on Nina’s shoulder, seemingly ready to offer some ‘words of wisdom’ to her commanding officer. “The strong hand of House Rosovsky guided the nation out of it and into a new age. I doubt Amiriyya will be that lucky - we have a motive to not let that strong hand come up in their own country.”

“If this is what they’re doing now I’d hate to see what happens if we don’t secure the area around the oil fields,” Nina said in reply, her eyes shifting over to Yaroslava. “Our mission is an important one, yes, but we have time. The fighting so far is centered around Javan.”

“So far,” said Galina. She obviously wasn’t happy with assuming that the fight was just going to stay there. Then again, they had come here with the expectation that this wasn’t their only trip, so it wasn’t surprising. “Just wait until Sorouri gives some speech blaming us for making them poor or something… And then Yaroslava will get her action wish. Not that I can complain either.”

“Hey, I’m not hoping on action… I just know how things work,” said Yaroslava with a shrug in reply. Her hand shifted, moving from Nina’s shoulder to her chin and squeezing it, causing a slight squeak from the unprepared commander. “And I wonder if our inexperienced CO does too.”

“I study this shit,” Nina said defensively as a reply, jerking her head to the side as Yaroslava grabbed her chin, her eyes darting to the side and examining the girl next to her carefully. She didn’t seem to have malintent but Nina could also tell that she had something of an interest in testing her. Seemed to think she would fold like a paper card under pressure, possibly thanks to her noble upbringing. “Don’t judge me by being a noble.”

“Oh, I’m not saying that because you’re a noble…” said Yaroslava, turning back to face the avenue and watching the fight with amusement in her eyes still. “But because I don’t know if you’ve been around anything real like this before. Reading is one thing. Experiencing in the moment, and getting an adrenaline rush from it… That’s another thing entirely.”

“But I suppose tonight we’ll find out more about just who you are,” Yaroslava continued. Her voice, funnily enough, had a certain finality to it as if she was sure that she wasn’t wrong on this - and none of the others quite doubted her. “I have my doubts that things will stay like this forever… As with everything else, we’re going to need to fight at some point.”

Things would be easier if handling the evacuation was a simpler matter, but it wasn’t - it required sending in helicopters under escort from a strike package, with planes directed towards the sky in the event of attack from enemy fighters as well as fighters which were outfitted for ground threats - the Shafadi hadn’t managed to seize the Air Force yet, nor did they have control of the air defenses, but there was still reason to have caution. All it took was a few Shafadi pilots getting off the ground in all the chaos for things to turn bad.

“How much longer?” Margarita asked, from within one of the central rooms of the compound after night had already fallen - technically, it was the next day by now, although the environment around them was pitch black outside. The lack of lighting outside except for the dim glow of the street lights would be one of the advantages they had in this battle if it did happen, but that wasn’t to say they had a lot of advantages like this one - they would do well to evacuate as soona s they could and then get out. Staying around longer than they had to… Was a risk they couldn’t take.

“Helos are en route, stay patient,” Nina said firmly, before removing her rifle from her shoulder and grasping it in her hands once again, preparing for the coming action as she stepped away from the table in the middle of the room where a map of the facility was laid out. “Margarita, Nastja, come with me. I have something that I need you for. Well, I actually need your machine gun for it.”

“Eh?” Margarita said, raising an eyebrow as she followed after Nina along with Nastja, stepping out of the room. As the one with the light machine gun, however, a Vernost 137, she wasn’t that surprised that she was being pulled aside for a different task.

“And I guess the rest of you can come too because we’re going to be deploying soon for the landing,” Nina called down the hall to the others, causing them to follow after. The halls, in the meantime, had been mostly vacated and gave the place the strange feeling that came from walking through a ghost town. While they were typically busy and would always have a few people running from room to room with papers and such, everyone had already been told where to go for the evacuation. So the only ones outside of that area were the security forces who were being positioned strategically to hold off any attack.

“Here we are,” Nina stated once they had reached the right location. They were at the front of the building now and she pointed out a window, at the crowd that was gathering outside. “When shit hits the fan, pop the window open and fire from here… You’ll have better cover than if you set up on the roof. Me and the others are going to be either on the roof or closer to the ground, depends on where the battle takes us.”

She slapped Margarita on the shoulder, knowing she was putting a fair amount of pressure on the eccentric machine gunner to perform, and that she’d probably never been under this much before. And well, she wasn’t just eccentric but really eccentric, the type that wore a rather authentic pair of rabbit ears on top of her head when she wasn’t wearing a helmet like she was now. Supposedly, she wore other similar things in other places too. It was a gamble on Nina’s part leaving her alone especially knowing the middle class Margarita hadn’t had the same upbringing around the military that Nina had as a noble whose parents were somewhat significant in that regard. She had been able to study the art of warfare up close, Margarita hadn’t, but at the end of the day both of them were green in combat and Nastja was also staying here with her to help out.

“Things start going south, you report in and try to find the rest of us,” Nina said eventually, still unsure about if she wanted to take the risk of leaving these two by the window while the rest of the squad went elsewhere. She had already given the order, however, and so she went along with it.

“Yes madam…” Margarita said, her tone shifting to show that, at the least, she also understood that the situation here was actually serious and that they were no longer going to have the luxury of sitting back and watching others fight without having to interfere. Their talk was interrupted however when Nina’s radio came to life, reporting in urgent news.

Things pick up outside.

“Knights-1, this is Sky Chariot-1… The convoy is currently en route to your position and will arrive in approximately five minutes. Please remain in position until the evacuation is complete…” the voice on the other end said.

“Shit…” Nina muttered under her breath. “Yaroslava, Galina, Vlada, on me. Contractors are setting up on the roof and by the back gate, they’re undermanned at the front though… We’ll head down there with cover from Margarita,” she continued, giving a wave with her hand for them to come after her. The sounds outside? They were already picking up, the crowds getting closer… And people were banigng on the outer walls.

“Damn it…” she said under her breath as she heard things picking up, picking up the pace and rushing ahead. Wasn’t long before she was pushing her way through the front entrance and ran into the scene at the front gate, where contractors had set up a sandbags barricade and were preparing to hold out against the incoming attack.

“Get behind cover at the gate!” Nina said to her group of soldiers, and they did just that - she ended up on the right side while Galina hung back so she’d have range when using her marksman rifle, and Vlada and Yaroslava stacked on the left side of the gate.

“Incoming!” Yaroslava shouted, and Nina stepped out from the cover to see what she was referring to - there was a truck coming around a corner and accelerating down the street, and it was almost to the gate… The driver turned, swerving hard to make the tight angle, while trying to come close to the gate and slam into it and break it down - but both Yaroslava and Nina put their gunsights towards the driver and opened fire, both of their three round bursts hitting the driver. Blood stained the windshield suddenly and the vehicle turned violently just before it could break through the gate itself, instead hitting the column where Nina had been standing only a few seconds before…

She wasn’t sure how much of a danger it would have been to get hit by that column, but she was glad she had moved regardless. “Too close…” she muttered under her breath, but they weren’t done yet.

“They’re popping out the back!” Yaroslava said, gesturing as four men started to jump out of the flatbed of the truck. So this wasn’t a suicide truck, but one that was aimed at breaking down the gate to let out a number of armed gunmen. “Motherfucker…”

Yaroslava was the first between her and Nina to start shooting, the night sky flashing with the bright light of her muzzle flash, and she sent a shot into the chest of one of the gunmen which was enough to drop the man to the ground as soon as his boots touched the ground after hopping out of the back of the truck. Nina joined her in shooting shortly afterwards, but her three round burst went over the shoulder of said enemy, making her cringe slightly. Her Vernost 64 didn’t exactly have the same capacity as the usual VR-14, so the last thing she was looking to do right now was waste ammo.

She ducked behind the cover of the column that was now partially collapsed, as the soldier she had fired at took shots of his own in return which would fly past her arm but failed to hit the mark. Rolling and turning to face the gunman, she took a single shot of her own once again, blasting him through the chest before she quickly pulled back behind cover once again. There were four contractors behind the sandbags, however, and they proved to be some help… Two of them popped up and shot at the incoming group which now had two remaining, but their shots didn’t hit the mark. Still, it suppressed the enemy which made it easier for Nastja and Margarita to take their own shots.

RATATATATATATA! Machine gun shots rained down, hitting while the burst from Nastja managed to miss, the machine gun however taking out one of the two targets that was left and forcing the other one to duck for cover. This was the point when Yaroslava made an aggressive move, stepping from her cover and dancing around the edge of the wall, raising her scope and pulling the trigger… Two bullets spent and one kill as she hit the mark.

“Yarolava!” Nina screamed, stepping from her own cover but not moving quite as far out - because the fact of the matter was that exposing herself like this wasn’t safe regardless of whether she had downed the enemy or not. All it did was incite the more distant mob to come at her, not armed with firearms in the same way that the militants they’d just killed were but dangerous nonetheless in their own right. Cursing her ammo count, Nina fired two bursts into the crowd and hit one rioter with the first, two with the second, as she grabbed Yaroslava and forcibly pulled her back… As Yaroslava took five shots of her own as she held her gun with one hand and hip fired, two more rioters going down in the process.

The number would hardly make a difference in the grand scheme of things. There were a lot of rioters. “Fall back into the building itself!” Nina ordered both Yaroslava, Galina, and the group of security force contractors. She gritted her teeth tightly, keeping her head down to avoid the projectiles - first rocks and then a molotov cocktail which crashed to the ground in front of her, narrowly avoided with a careful and hard step to the right. Yaroslava followed after her, jumping over the spot on the ground as it burst into flames.

“How many of these fuckers are there?” Yaroslava asked, and she turned her head back to see that the rioters were rushing through the gate now that it wasn’t defended by the retreating security forces, who were backpedaling rapidly but still laying fire down.

“Too fucking many, keep moving!” Nina replied quickly, which was when the machine gun kicked up again and fired from the window, a burst of ten rounds taking out seven rioters and halting the advance as the mob realized what they were rushing into and slowed down before backing up somewhat, stopping when they saw how many bodies were also dropping from the contractors and their gunshots.

“This is Sky Chariot-1, the evacuation has begun… Hold position until the embassy staff have all been evacuated. You may request air to ground support from Sky Lancer if the situation calls for it, over.”

“The situation sure as hell calls for it! Whatever you can throw at them… Hit the mob at the front gate,” Nina said back as she lowered her rifle long enough to grab her radio again, speeding through the front doors of the embassy building with Yaroslava not far behind as another molotov cocktail hit the wall behind them.

“I’ll relay the request to Sky Lancer. Sit tight, Knight-1.”

So at least they had some chance of getting out of this without the mob raiding the embassy… Speaking into her radio again, Nina ordered the rest of the squad to form up on her location. “Nastja, Margarita, we’re headed deeper into the building! Head down to the ground floor and follow our sounds, me and the rest of the team are on the move right now!”

She put the radio away, moving to drag one of the tables within the lobby and use it to barricade the front entrance. Not that it was going to do a ton, but it would give them a little more time than they would have without it. “Yaroslava, help me stack another table on top of this one,” she said… And so her squadmate helped her lift one of the heavier wooden tables, dragging it and then lifting it up and on top of the first one, the stronger Yaroslava having less problem with it.

That was when they heard the first of the booms that told them to pick up the urgency of the task they were currently performing. “Fuckin’ hell, what is it now?” asked Yaroslava, but she didn’t stop running after Nina as they moved up the stairs, avoiding the ground floor for now and putting more distance between them and the enemy.

“That’s a fucking mortar,” Nina said quickly, keeping the lead and looking out the window once they were on the second floor to see the mob rushing to break into the building. “Air support can’t get here soon enough…”

As if on cue, her radio came to life once again with an update about the progress. “Knight-1, you are advised to stay away from the street… Gas ammunition will be deployed on Embassy Avenue to halt the advance of the hostile force. I repeat, gas ammunition will be deployed on the avenue to prevent the advance of the hostile force…”

“Affirmative! Just get it done as fast as you can, I don’t think we’re going to last until the end of evac at this rate,” she said hurriedly into the radio. By now, they were meeting up again with Margarita and Nastja, who had indeed been able to use the sounds to track them down within the large building.

“You’re safe…” Margarita said in relief as she showed up at the end of the hallway, machine gun raised but not firing. “Wasn’t sure if we were going to run into you or other side.”

“The other side is breaking in here any minute but the Navy is hitting them with a gas attack soon enough,” Nina explained. “I want to get to the roof ASAP, the evac should be far enough along that we can get the hell out of dodge as soon as the last helo with the diplomats is in the air.”

“Aye,” Margarita said, moving and joining the rest of the group along with Nastja before they disappeared into the stairwell again.

Outside, the sound of fighters could be heard - specifically, the Vor-16K naval fighters that were employed from the nation’s Project 120 class carriers. Able to take off and land vertically, they were versatile in a number of situations and could ground and pound just like many other multirole fighters despite not being designed primarily with that purpose in mind. The engines grew closer and closer… And outside, there was a certain fear among the locals too. It was one thing to attack an embassy like this when the only thing that was guarding it was infantry, but now that there was something more, something that they couldn’t attack with just rifles…

Panic set into the crowd. There were screams when the low flying fighters became apparent, and people ran and ducked for cover either inside the building or on the outside behind smaller structures and cars on the street, the mob having grown by now until it was overflowing out of the courtyard. They seemed to be afraid the planes were going to fly low and strafe them, but that wasn’t actually the plan at all…

FWOOSH!

The Vor-16K fighters flew overhead, deadly payloads dropping on the mob below before the crowd itself even knew what was happening. The gas dispersed through the crowd quickly, with the gas in question presumably being the Vojvodean chemical weapon Nervex, the domestically modified and produced version of sarin which had been created by Vojvodean engineers as a weapon to be deployed more effectively from the air and from tactical ballistic missiles… It had precisely been made for conflicts like this, and the reputation value of it wasn’t lost on the Shafadi crowd which had just been hit by the multiple shells dropped by the Vor-16Ks.

The voices that had been forceful not long before this were now rather scared. Panicked, even. And the crowd largely broke with some people rushing for the embassy but others rushing for alleyways or to tend to the ones that had been affected by the gas, or getting inside vehicles and going into other buildings that lined the road. Fortunately, there was enough distance between the embassy building itself and the avenue that it was unlikely to blow towards the building - the courtyard was quite large, a subtle security precaution that was made for situations like these. Perhaps, due to the many old tensions that were now coming back up again, the future had been predicted when this place was designed.

Nina pushed through a final door and they emerged on the roof once again, where there were not one or two but three helipads spaced out, and three helicopters parked at the moment. One of them was the one they had arrived in, and the engine was running and it was ready to go as soon as they were on board, and the other two were some of the final ones with the evacuation force. The diplomats and the crew that were loading them on board seemed to gain some confidence from the sudden arrival of the Eagles Brigade soldiers… And some contractors that were following them.

“Last two helicopters right here!” said one of the staff before boarding through one of the open doors.

“Go, get on board,” Nina said, waving the contractors forward and leaving just herself and her own unit. They had to get out of here too, after all. “Squad, I can hear some of them coming after us… Motherfuckers never give up.”

An RPG shot from the ground and streaked by into the sky before exploding, fired by one of the rare militants that hadn’t taken cover from the gas attack, but the machine gus on the side of the helicopter blasted back as they covered their own takeoff, leaving just the Eagles Brigade forces behind as Nina turned around and looked at the scene. “Yaroslava, you want to cover the others with me while they get on and the rotors get going?”

“Rotors should have been going an hour ago!” Yaroslava said, but she had a devilish grin on her face even as she said this, her grip on her gun tightening in anticipation. “But it would be my honor, your highness,” she said, the latter part somewhat sarcastic and a reference to Nina’s noble background. Not that it was actually much of a dig. Just a fact of life that a common born soldier was fighting next to a noble officer, both of them equal and striving for the same thing at this moment.

“Contact!”

While Galina, Margarita, Vlada, and Nastja retreated to the helicopter which was getting warmed up, the rotors picking up speed after the pilot had completed all the checks and gotten ready for takeoff, evidently not having been ready due to the speed of which the escalation had happened and the situation became more dangerous, Nina rose her gunsight to her eye and squeezed down on the trigger at the first man that ascended from the stairwell and turned to face them. Her single bullet hit narrowly, a spray of red indicating she’d hit the head squarely, but she didn’t have time to stand and admire her work, as Yaroslava fired away behind her at three different targets with a five shot burst, downing three of her intended enemies in the process while falling back somewhat along with Nina.

The other side fired back… Bullets whizzed right by Nina’s helmet but she didn’t feel herself get hit and she had the feeling she would be dead if she did get hit, while Yaroslava ducked and weaved and somehow managed to avoid some very narrow misses while squeezing down on the trigger and blasting the militant who had just emerged behind the other two as soon as he emerged from the stairwell, backing up all the while and getting closer to the helipad. The others were joining in somewhat too from the range that they could, picking off a few militants easily, Galina in particular reducing a couple of them to bleeding out in the middle of the stairwell as she fired from the edge of the helicopter and hit them as soon as they showed up in the stairs. Maybe their bodies would block the passage of their allies.

But Nina was still left facing two enemies, one of which had nearly killed her in a close call. “Fuck it,” she muttered under her breath, suppressing the fear of the situation as she went for the pistol at her side, her eyes wide open right now as she hyperfocused on the opposition and lowered her rifle, raising her sidearm again now that the fight was nearly happening in close quarters - a quick draw almost as she aimed to gun them down before they could gun her down. She put two shots into both of them as she swept her hand across in an invisible arc while squeezing on the trigger each split second, watching both of the men fall as their uniforms were stained with red before they could get accurate shots off… She saw one more militant on the way towards her, and fired over his shoulder and missed, but she was lucky to see his face turn red as Yaroslava dropped him with one round from her VR-14, before grabbing Nina herself by the arm and forcibly dragging her away from the fight.

“W-What are you doing?” Nina asked at the grab before she realized what was happening.

“The helicopter is ready, devushka! And while you are very brave, commander, I can’t just let you stay here by yourself,” she said, as Nina turned around and ran after her as fast as she could, gunshots flying in the background amid the pile of bodies as Galina helped to suppress the militants and Nina ran around the side and climbed in, Yaroslava offering her a hand and using her strength to quickly pull her inside before the pilot took off immediately, the helicopter not wasting more than a few seconds on the ground before getting into the air and turning in the direction that the rest of the convoy was going.

They could once again see the chaos in the city but this time it was more obvious, the flames burning in more places and the smoke plumes rising a bit taller and wider. More gunshots could be heard from the ground than before, and if one looked closely, they would be able to spot armored vehicles on the streets where there had been few before - whether they were fighting for or against the Shafadi uprising remained to be seen.

“Never been so fuckin’ glad to get on a ride like this…” Nina said, taking a deep breath as she collapsed against the back of her seat, perhaps crashing from the adrenaline high.

“Commander, I must apologize…” said Yaroslava, who was next to her, and who Nina found herself slightly leaning against. “Mainly for doubting your skill earlier. Well, actually, I don’t know about that - I’ll have to see a bit more to tell you how skilled you are, but your bravery… Is far better than most from your background. Lead from the front and all that, it’s something that not every noble does. You, on the other hand…”

The blushing commander.

“Ah, shut up, don’t make me blush,” Nina said, glancing away as she closed her eyes, letting her focus shift to the sound of the rotor blades rather than what she had just been through. Sure, she’d have to cope with the near death experiences at some point, but for now she wanted nothing more than to relax.

“You have my fealty, devushka,” Yaroslava said, causing a slightly uncomfortable shift from Nina.

“You are making her blush,” said Margarita. “Is our leader uncomfortable with praise?”

“Shut up…” Nina groaned out. Although, she couldn’t deny that she was happy to be dealing with remarks from her teammates right now rather than bullets coming towards her and desperate voices coming over her radio. This was far simpler to deal with. She knew, though, that it would only be a matter of time before they were back in action…

At least it wasn’t likely to be another trial of fire like this one.

She’d always remember her first time. And in a way, she felt like if she could conquer this, the rest of the campaign wouldn’t be so hard after all.

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Feb 08, 2020 9:03 pm

S1E4
_{GUNDANCER A.E. 251}

Gemeka finds a new job eliminating Vestan supremacists... but something more is at play. Meanwhile, a faceless bureaucrat hatches a deal...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gundancer A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 2
"The Cause"

Auspicious District
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Brillardere 53, 251 AE
6:20 PM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

Gemeka sat idle in her apartment, telescreen glow across her features. Rather than the expository drivel of evening news, scenes of sex and cinematic ultraviolence played out upon the screen, decaying into a blur that bore semblance to both. Outside, a light rain descended upon the tightly-packed housing of the Auspicious District, downtown skyline visible in the distance.

I sip my coffee as I try to drag my mind away from my last job. The coverup goes as my previous client had stated: anti-war malcontents blamed for Mithurtu Towers bombing. Crackdowns on teary-eyed, idealist students ensue, their cries drowned out by accusations of 'Terrorist!' and 'Seditionist!'. It is of no consequence to me. What matters to me is my paycheck.

To my left I see my c-writer, screen glowing an ethereal, pale blue. Not a few hours earlier I had reviewed the broadcast footage in full, beyond merely the funny execution. Definitely not intended for us — screwups probably didn't know we'd get the message. There's another message, also ignoring our existence... something about an empire being defeated, 'peace in our time'... the usual flowered words. Hearing this old, archaic Euphemian is unusual... takes a good few minutes for the words to really sink in. So unsophisticated.

The secrets I play with are high-calibre. I conceal the datakey within a locked safe in my closet — somewhere between my rifles and my clothes. Truth is a weapon in a world fearful of the future, and few would know it better than a Gundancer.

---==============---

A Dharrat Maturochi brand c-writer, not unlike Gemeka's.

Beside her on the sofa lay a newspaper. News of ethnic tension and savagery in Amiriyya was hardly out of the ordinary... and markets were doing fairly well as the Navy pummeled their Vesperanzan counterparts to a pulp. A ping dragged Gemeka's mind away from these petty thoughts, accessing NooSpace Messenger with the mildest bit of curiosity.

THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF YOUR MESSENGER LOG WITH USER @apomorphine_dripp.

apomorphine_dripp Today at 6:27 PM
Hmm
Curious ..
Perhaps I possess a job
Most Suited a Vixen Like You ..
Not To 【MESSAGE_REDACTED】
But Rather to eliminate A band of pathetic Rabbelrousers ..
At my Kindest behest
600 Kaspu upfront ..
At the Cafe Tondroi I wait

The money seemed sufficient enough for a message she would otherwise ignore. Looking about, Gemeka silently shrugged. There was nothing else pertinent today that merited her immediate attention... there was little to lose in finding work for the evening.

I slip into my usual attire. Cleaning away the blood did some marvels, and it shines under the light good as new. The record player ends on a pleasant note, and I leave my apartment room.

Fritz is the local pilax in my apartment block. Walks on four legs, eats garbage... and is troublingly smart. The feline-looking creature eyes me from atop a pile of cardboard boxes as I begin down the corridor, half-chewed pack of cigarettes at its feet. The usual....

"Evening, Fritz." Gemeka murmured, tossing the creature a piece of her nutrient bar. In reply, the pilax's jaw unhinged, myriad of tendril-tongues catching the piece and quickly getting to work.

"Eweww.. ming.." it purred back in mimicry, craning its grey fur-coated head to watch Gemeka.

Creepy little fucking thing. I walk past it as I take the stairs two floors down. They still haven't fixed the lights on the stairs. If I kick the wall it'll flicker for a bit, then give out again... I'm sure Public Works will send their guys any day now. Ground level's got some new graffiti on the wall. The usual. I pass some other tenants, who pay my presence little mind as they chatter on about the latest episode of a TV show I haven't had the time to bother about.

Stepping out into the alleyway, I am greeted by a used condom, a spent needle not ten feet away. More of the same.

The blue neon of the apartment's overhead sign glowed against Gemeka's own jacket, a pleasant contrast to the drab, decadent surroundings. Emerging from the alley, Gemeka's eyes would peruse the busy street. It was crowded with the usual evening activity, lamps illuminating the street as bubble-domed sedans passed by here and there, the overground subway tracks above rattling as rail-cars passed. With so much as a nod, Gemeka began down the sidewalk, alone with her thoughts.

Upon the streets I am greeted by the usual. Market stalls crowd the sidewalk as I begin down Bel-samu Street. I see some cops pummeling a man's face into the sidewalk, his screams half-coherent as he thrashes under the force of five other men. Probably mentally ill, or a journalist too bold for their own good. These cops seem to enjoy their work— one of them clutches his erection as he watches. I pay it no mind... good call. I am tossed a coin by one of the officers, a reward for my nonintervention. Protect and serve.

Upon telescreens I see advertisements and military propaganda. From teenage action flicks to fighter jets, the wall of advertisements to my left glowing. The catch-phrases, jingles and strings are like background noise as I walk by the usual evening couples, cybernetics junkies and weary bureaucrats and businessmen returning from work... it is diverse as ever. Passing the Ziggurat of the Sacred Flame (it pays patronage to Muxen), I see the scantily-clad priestesses (all pertaining to the Lamassu^[1] caste), umbrellas in hand as they proselytize in the rain... I pay them no mind as I trudge through the monkeymass of people and cultures that frequent the Auspicious District.

Cafe Tondroi is a fifteen minute walk away. Drawing near, I see the silhouette of a man sitting at one of the tables by the window, beckoning me to come over. I am an obedient one, if only to play the part. Entering the cafe, I take a seat opposite the man. Approaching, I note his appearance: bald head, circular teashade glasses concealing a bulky ocular implant, and a black overcoat. Doesn't seem a bureaucrat, not by the looks of it.

"Hm. Curious.." noted the man, stroking his chin. "The real deal..."

Gemeka practically scoffed at the naive remark. "You seem new to this. Did you expect something else?"

"No, no," He shook his head, chuckling. "I'm Asit. I work for the Armannu Times—"

"You fucking parasites are all the same—" Gemeka turned to leave, visible frustration about her features.

"This is not an interview," Asit assured, shaking his head as he set 800 Kaspu worth of notes on the table. "There's a cell of terrorists who've been threatening and blackmailing us for awhile,—"

That was enough to bring Gemeka back to the table, the Gundancer collecting her money upfront. "Go on..."

"A most dangerous group," Asit explained, arrogantly scoffing. "Professional rabblerousers... give like-minded men angry at the world firearms and explosives, and you've got a problem. The Cause. Vestan Supremacists... I'm sure you know where I'm going with this."

"I don't, actually."

"I was trying to write a piece on the organization earlier this month," He continued, toying with a spent cigarette as Gemeka rolled her eyes. "Turns out they didn't like that. Three of our journalists attacked, two hostage situations... five bombs mailed to our address. They're terrorizing us— me in particular— to keep this story from getting out. Imagine it, in this day and age! Us journalists are the cornerstone of a free society, you do know that right?"

Gemeka remained skeptical, arms crossed. "What's so special about these people? Plenty of these Vestan unification types to go round. I'm sure we both remember that Euphemian oil rig that one group blew up a few years back."

"I've done some digging," replied Asit. "Someone's pooling big money into an otherwise run-of-the-mill terror cell in the capital. All untraceable — guy's gotta be a pro. They're not the terrorists of old, taking hostages aboard jet liners... no. They're a new breed, and they don't play by the rules."

"And you want me to—"

"Eliminate them. Here's an address." Asit handed Gemeka a ripped piece of paper, '112 Dakni Blvd' scribbled on in permanent marker. "Do well and I might even write an article about how Gundancers like you are good for society at large.." Asit chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"It will be done."

Rat bastard. Too many like him... but money is money. Dakni Boulevard's at the edge of the Pleasure District. I know the way.

The Pleasure District is a haven of the unsavory. Harlots walk the streets, selling themselves to the highest bidder. People from all over Tiamat— Veris, even, come to indulge in their wildest desires.

In this part of the city it is preferable someone like me stay discreet — look like a buyer, rather than a whore. Easy to act the former, once you've window-shopped the Pleasure District long enough.

A mixture mostly comprised of cool, purified air courses through this place, pumped in by sidewalk grates. Within the mixture are dopamine inducers, a touch of aphrodisiac, public name 'Happiness Increaser'. Keep people happy in the designated entertainment sectors of the city, they say. Sometimes people get addicted to the lightheaded feeling of being in the Pleasure District — many a junkie sit by the vents, rolling on the floor, strings of drool dripping from their mouths. 'Breathers', they're called — not just because they're addicted to breathing in the mixture, but because they mouthbreathe to take in more of the substance.

Standing before the address, Gemeka noted how otherwise unassuming it seemed. An average tenement building, situated between a cabaret and a brothel... it seemed nothing beyond the ordinary, but then again, so were most of these places. That was how it went, wasn't it?

With a leap — thank Vesta's low gravity — Gemeka situated herself along the second floor's ledge. The usual passerby folk paid little mind— after all, the aim of the building itself seemingly was to seem inconspicuous.

The windows are a clever construction. A careful combination of a CRT monitor and cleverly-placed mirrors create the illusion to outsiders that within is an ordinary room... I commend the terrorists for their handiwork. Another leap and I'm scaling my way up the third floor, onto the fourth... cue rooftop.

Plumes of heated air rose from the chimneys and air conditioning units upon the roof, dissipating as it mingled with the everyday Vestan cold. Gemeka took a brief moment to observe the surrounding mixture of electronics and ventillation systems, scanning the setup before reaching into coat. The sawed-off BA-29 shotgun was good at its job — be it riddling a target with 12 gauge, or destroying barriers... in this case, Gemeka was intent on the latter.

Feeling about the rooftop, Gemeka searched for a hollow space along the roofing — one that would, at least, allow navigation of the space below. Qi was, in a way, a sixth sense that eased such a capacity. Halting over a square-shaped access point — it made things easier for police and Public Works to get into the homes of uncooperative individuals — Gemeka took aim with her sawed-off.

"Here goes nothing."

BLAM

The fall's quick. I note a few tripwires around the attic space as I'm falling. There's a bear trap below, but it's been reduced to scrap by my buckshot. Some people are smart enough to do that. It's a trick a lot of dumber Gundancers fall for. I land softly, sawed-off in hand. I hear a clamor downstairs, of course. I take another shot, this time into the wood — sends me down onto the fourth floor — right as some asshole's making a run down the hallway.

Shit-for-brains staggers back, practically tripping over himself as he reaches for his pistol. Other guy behind him's equally caught off-guard. With a single shot, I dispatch both men, decorating the walls with viscera. Three more scramble up the stairs — I spend my last two shots on them. I duck into one of the rooms to reload. It must be my lucky day, because there's a good deal of them unarmed in their bunks. I count five or six.

By the time I return my Patru to its sheath, the room is a mess. Gives me enough time to reload as the footsteps draw near. I hear footsteps just outside the door. My response is natural — another round. The door's ripped to shreds, revealing to me the gutted remains of the terrorists who tried to charge in.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer from below as Gemeka navigated her way through the corridor, on to the next room. Her client had requested the elimination of this terror cell... but surely there was more to be found? Another room revealed within crates of ammunition, stacked rifles, explosives... and a Vestan planetary flag, orange background contrasting well with the celestial symbol.

They were planning big. I take a moment to think about it as I hear them arrive on my floor. They're looking for me. I've got four shots to go before the next reload. I hear the clamor of footsteps reaching the room I had previously visited... and then I go in for the kill. Door swinging open, I identify two of them at my sides. I react faster, and tackle a third before me as the other men collapse, blood pooling in the aftermath of my well-placed shots.

"Fuckin' cop bitch, I swear—" came the balaclava-clad man's reply.

Gemeka pulled the man up by the collar, staring into his terrified eyes. "I'm no cop."

I pull him up to his feet... and then I thrust him into the false windows. The CRT setup practically explodes as he barrels through it, sparks flying as the illusion is destroyed for passers-by. They've probably heard the gunshots within, anyway. With another kick I send the monitor and the man stuck headfirst within barreling out of the windowsill, hitting the ground with a gruesome crash.

The walk to the third floor brought little opposition to Gemeka. Most had hurried upstairs once the shots had started... leaving only a few grunts in the midst of destroying evidence. Nothing worth 12 gauge ammo, really — brief executions by means of the .45 gospel were delivered.

My eyes peruse the documents... they're financial logs. Names are blacked out, not by simple, haphazard marker... but by design. Curious. I hear footsteps out... I'm already in position by the time the door swings open.

Five men. I open up my sidearm on them, arterial spray lining the ceiling as I land hits one by one... but one of them's fast. Rolls out of the way, almost textbook. A Gundancer?

My questions are answered shortly thereafter as a knife is thrown in my direction — one I narrowly manage to avoid as it digs into the wall behind me.

"You're fighting for the wrong cause, you know." The man uttered, emerging from cover. He stood before Gemeka, who similarly stood at the ready. Gun kata was the art of this city, an art both seemed to know well.

"And if I said the same to you?"

"Life. It's a funny thing, you know. Life... what did our primordial ancestors do? No, not the monkeys," He began, pacing across the room... though his guard was perpetually raised. "They grew legs and climbed out of those festering oceans. Tsion... is our cradle, but not our home. To evolve, a species needs to leave their primordial cradle. Reach for the stars. Over two-hundred fifty Vestan years ago, Tsion sent their finest. The evolutionary failures; mankind's monkeys, gorillas — those who simply didn't make the cut: stayed behind. We... are the future, and they are the past. Obsolete, inferior. Every flash I see on Tsion's surface serves only to confirm my prejudices."

"What's this group's endgame?" Gemeka questioned.

The man smiled. "World peace. I believe introductions are overdue — I am Rihat. I was once a Gundancer like you, you know... but I've moved onto greener pastures. Less... cynical pastures."

---==============---

A gundancer of yesterday, a man with a newfound cause... Rihat compromises at nothing to achieve his ends.

"World peace. A funny idea, isn't it? Envision, for a moment, Vesta and Timorius, united against the irradiated cesspit infested with the inferior fellah of the past. No more petty fears of Communism, Capitalism— no, these ideological paranoias are ancient superstitions that serve only to hold us back."

"You think this... small terror cell of people that now lay dead around us... is going to unify Vesta?" Gemeka scoffed.

"There are many likeminded organizations operating across the globe. Perhaps you lack the pragmatism... but do you seriously lack the idealism to see worth in a greater cause? Not just money, not just Maturoch— but the entire world, united and determined to assume Humanity's rightful place in the solar system. This does not have to end with your violent death. You're a good looker, you know that... right?"

The Pleasure District's air must be getting to my head. I stutter over a reply for a moment, and in another he's lunging at me, electro-sword in hand. I narrowly avoid Rihat, rolling out of the way as I open fire thrice. One round grazes his shoulder, warranting a sharp grunt from him as he swiftly recovers. He throws his sword my way — something I barely manage to avoid. It embeds itself into the wall, sparks still flying from its blade.

It occurs to me it was a diversion. He's charging me — all is a blur as he disarms me and pins me to the wall, hand gripping my throat. He's reaching for the sword, embedded in the wall. I can feel a sweat come on as I choke under his grasp, counting the quarter-seconds as I struggle.

Without thinking, I knee him in the gut, sending him staggering back. I pull his blade from the wall, and hastily slash.

"You..." Rihat mouthed, blood slowly pooling into his shirt. Collapsing to his knees, his intestines would practically spill forth onto the floor, the gundancer's eyes rolling back into his sockets as he tumbled lifelessly onto his own filth.

A job well done. But something reeks — and it's not the smell of guts. Rihat... I'll remember the name.

"Splendid work." Asit smiled, leaning back in his seat. The Cafe Tondroi was at its usual, moody lighting giving the meeting as music emanated from wall-mounted speakers in dark corners of the sleek, Chastain-style cafe's interior. "You can bet your ass I'm going to be writing good words in the paper. I got word from my talentless hack leech of an assistant — she was at the police lines, mind you — that it was a total massacre."

Lowering her cigarette, Gemeka exhaled. "There was another gundancer there. Rihat, his name was.."

---==============---

Another job well done.

The mention seemed to leave Asit's mouth agape in surprise. "Hang on."

Reaching into his bag, he set down a rather bulky portable c-writer onto the table, powering it up. "Few years back I was writing a piece on Bluebook Holdings. Everyone knows who they are..."

He turns the C-writer around, adjusts the focus lens and gives me a good look of the screen. I am greeted by a photograph of the man I've killed hours earlier, standing beside Archibald Bluebook himself. The Eridanian billionaire greets fellow elites as Rihat stands watchful guard.

---==============---

Archibald Earl Bluebook, Eridanian billionaire and eccentric CEO of Bluebook Holdings, LLC. In the public eye, he is a philanthropist, a genius businessman...

"That's him," Gemeka replied. "And he's with Bluebook..?"

"This Rihat slimeball beat the shit out of me for 'spying' on his boss," Asit explained. "So I'm pretty happy you dealt with him too. Wouldn't know why he's there, but..." Reaching into his coat, he set down an additional 300 Kaspu's worth, offering it to Gemeka. "Consider it a tip."

I begrudgingly accept. Either the journalist's too dull, or he isn't letting on what he's realized. A man like Bluebook's all the funding a Vestan supremacist cell like The Cause would need.

"That will be all." Getting up, Gemeka took her leave, soon finding herself on the street once more. A light rain trickled down from above, the overground subway station situated above the street only partly serving to shield from the light trickle coming from above.

It's something I'll need to look into further in my spare time. Between this Eridanian billionaire and infighting over that broadcast... something's definitely amiss in this city.

It's almost midnight.

This isn't like the usual desk work. Amarsin sits beside me, briefcase in hand. Two plainclothes agents sit opposite us, armed. The truck shakes every now and then, the road far less maintained than the ones of the Capital. We're somewhere in southeastern Fastana. Here and there we are greeted by great monuments and murals built into the mountainside, dedicated to the Fastanian philosophy of Tajdid. Meaning 'Renewal' in their language, it is something between a religion and an ideology... stemmed from the Great Leader that once commanded both our nations during the perils of the Eschaton.

The monolithic legacy of past leaders lives on in the mountainside itself. Forever etched into nature, perhaps by design... as if to say their leaders were above nature — almost in the vein of Gods.

"Acquisitions... what exactly are we acquiring here, Amarsin?" Sin-Nasir questioned, exhaling a puff of smoke from his cigar.

"Acquiring materials for our supply writeouts." Amarsin slyly replied. "Aircraft, specifically."

"Our seller?" asked Sin-Nasir.

"Zeyad al-Mansoor. Brigadier General with the Fastanian Republican Guard. He's corrupt— takes foreign money on a routine basis. Our Department generally deems him... reliable." Amarsin explained. "He and his loyalists will be waiting at the airstrip."

---==============---

Zeyad al-Mansoor.

Sin-Nasir nodded. "Mm. Fair enough."

There's no fighting it, I suppose.

It isn't long before our truck approaches the airstrip. A layer of dust seems to hang over everything here... we are granted passage at the security kiosk by some poorly-equipped soldiers almost immediately. Our truck delivers us to the runway, coming to a halt before the hangars... and then I see what the subject of this business dealing is. Twenty-four A-13 Super Pog fighter aircraft, neatly lined and organized.

---==============---

A-13 Super Pogs, informally known as 'Poggers,' are among the more widespread aircraft on Vesta. Originally in service with Terminus's military in the early 2nd century AE as an upgrade of Euphemian-era A-01 Pogs, the Super Pogs have since become common with irregular forces, third-world militaries and other groups due to its small, sturdy airframe, cheap pricetag, and vast abundance of spare parts.

Sin-Nasir stepped out first, his coworker in tow. The security detail stood watchful behind them as they came face to face with their seller, a plastic table between them.

"So you are the ones they sent," Zeyad noted, stroking his bearded chin. "Officially these aircraft are decommissioned — set to be scrapped. Convince me the costs of transporting these across the border are more worthwhile than paying some scrappers outright."

My inner negotiator kicks in. I speak up before Amarsin can raise a finger.

"Simple. We are paying for the aircraft and their transportation." replied Sin-Nasir, crossing his arms. "It is a deal that recognizes you not as some benefit of generosity, but as a co-equal partner in trade." Looking to Amarsin, he nodded. Without hesitation, Amarsin set the briefcase down, clicking it open to reveal stacks upon stacks of Kaspu.

Zeyad eyed the contents of the case, studying the notes with great care. "One million Kaspu..." Sifting through the stacks, he seemed to eye for any evidence of counterfeiting. He pulled the briefcase to his end of the table, before nodding to his men. "I want these aircraft out of the country by sunrise!"

"A deal, then?" Amarsin questioned.

"More than a deal. You have my word. Peace be with you, Maturochi. Now if you do not mind... I have business to tend to. Rest assured, I will negotiate to my comrades in your favor, should any aggression come from the Eridanians in the east."

Man takes his leave. Already I can see the Super Pogs are being loaded onto trailers, hastily fastened to flatbeds in preparation for the move to come.

"Well, we've got our warbirds..." Amarsin enthusiastically noted, glancing back to her coworker with a cheery grin.

Sin-Nasir smirked. "Now we just need to bring them to our war."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Lamassu - Imbued with the favor of the Gods, the Lamassu act as the socioreligious elite of Maturoch. The descendants of the colony's scientists, they are the venerated few, perfected by centuries of self-inflicted eugenics. In the hypothetical event of Recontact, the Lamassu would also act as the chosen for Tsion xenodiplomacy. Their traditions and customs involve revealing, almost archaic forms of dress, bodybuilding, and leadership of the Ziqquratu.

by **Da Liang** » Sat Feb 08, 2020 11:14 pm

HALL OF HEROES - EPISODE 1A
_{THE FEAST OF LIONS}
Theme Music: Jean-Baptiste Lully: Les Folies d'Espagne

The Kingly lineage of Châtaigne has ruled over the Gallian feudal states for almost two hundred years - in the most socially acceptable way to the patrician caste, that is. However, recent attempts to further centralize the government was met with a backlash among the feudal lords who wished to have a relatively high degree of control over their estates. This made some of them turn their sights towards Antoine Alexandre de Richelieu, the second most powerful man in the realm and someone who would better serve their interests. Aiming to retain his control through logical means, the King invites the various lords of the realm for the discourse regarding the future of this patchwork of states.

Royaume de Châtaigne - Ardes
Antoine Alexander de Richelieu- Château-du-Roi
Florel 45th, 245 AE

Becoming the highest representative of the patrician caste, most would refer to my position as king, of the most insufferable and pretentious people to ever set foot on this planet was the least of my goals - yet here I am, despising every single year, month, week, day, hour, minute, and second that passed by wearing a crown that bore its unforgiving weight down on my neck. If I weren’t chained by the crown to remain on the tiresome throne, I could’ve flown a plane and gaze at Beaumont’s rolling chocolate hills, called my friends to hunt for rare Tsionic wild goats who were roaming freely in the green lush hills of Guevremont, or maybe I could’ve tried my luck in the audience-packed tourneys in Durandal and made troubadours make songs of my exploits as one of Roland’s greatest duellists.

One might call my ascension to the throne as heavenly will, but is it not the adversary’s curse upon me to live the rest of my life in eternal dullness? Whatever it is, I’d rather not think much about it. Well, since it’s my free time, I was thinking of writing a chronicle of how I ended up in this undesirable situation. Who knows, maybe my ramblings will soon be discovered after I’ll drop dead and sell millions of copies all around Vesta or maybe even Tsion if there’s someone ambitious enough to launch a rocket containing our literature and artifacts to humanity’s mother planet. Whatever the case may be, I sincerely hope that the one who decides to publish what I wrote here would add the part where I ascended into heaven and get to punch God in the face for watching idly as the Adversary joyously sapped on my life’s excitement.

The day my life began to take its turn for the worse started during a great feast that was held in Château-du-Roi that was located in Ardes, the capital city of the King of Châtaigne’s directly administered territory. An emphasization for directly administered territory was rather necessary because the King had recently been distrusted among us, the high nobility, for his attempts at centralizing power over his vassals' states by having their borders changed and appointed his various relatives to assert authority over the newly formed states.

“The patrician caste possess the god-given right to choose whatever righteous destiny we want to seize for ourselves.” This was a reaction that seemed like a broken record in response to the King’s power grabs. Ironically, this statement was also deception of our inner ambitions. I am confident in my assumption that all of us were definitely envious that the King reached greater heights never seen before in our people’s history. Being patricians, our vainglorious attitudes made us a wall in self-righteous lies by convincing ourselves that it was God's will, Saint Bellegard’s laws, and our natural right as a highborn to remain as free-reigning lords.

Anyhow, the Château-du-Roi was an especially grandiose structure of incomparable beauty, timelessness, and culture. The palace was located in the middle of an ever-expansive artificial forest, mostly chestnut trees to live up to the state’s namesake. Its facade has a beautiful symmetrical Baroque form built out of limestone and marble. The exterior was also adorned in gold which outlined its everlasting mirrors. Perhaps my favorite part was the marble aisle which split a rather boring looking garden towards the entrance with bronze statues of all the twenty Kings of Chastain symmetrically aligned at the side. In the center, entrenched a fountain with a tall gold statue of Saint Hugo Ardes. As indeed, the beauty stood out from the rest of the rabble in the city. Personally, I think the Château-du-Roi’s structural elegance was second only to Château-le-Grand, the palace that I owned of course.

As I was about to pass through the fountain, I was saluted by royal guards who were armed with halberds. They were simply there to set an atmosphere for sure since the real threat to anyone who was idiotic enough to storm the palace by force were the combat-ready royal guards who were patrolling around the garden with high-powered firearms.

“Hail, Antoine Alexandre, Duke of Richelieu. We ask you to surrender any weapons before entering the palace.” The guard on the left declared. He had a nasal voice, lazy dead fish eyes, unusually gigantic lips, and a nonexistent jawline. It made me use a great amount of resistance towards comedy to take him seriously.

“And what would be the consequences if I barge through the gates with a saber on my holster?” Typical hyperinflated ego reply back in the days.

“By the authority of his majesty, we will be forced to have you either stabbed or beheaded on the spot, your grace.” The guard on the right, who looked eerily similar to the other guard, declared with a louder pain-inducing nasal voice.

“Oh, would you really have the courage to kill a man of my position?” I pressed forward while unsheathing my saber. I think I might’ve gone a little too far with my reckless attitude even if I unconsciously knew that a man with a saber will never stand a chance against two men with halberds. Even if I defeat them for some unfathomable reason, the guards patrolling the garden would’ve drilled multiple holes into my skull.

“Not another step forward, your grace.” The two guards pointed their halberds awfully close to my neck. These people weren’t kidding.

“How terrifying, now get that thing out of my face or I might weep like a female dog if you keep up your unnerving expressions.” I mockingly replied as I handed my saber to the guards. Mockery was my way of coping with the seething feeling of having one of my treasures being soiled by the touch of men of atrocious physical appearances.

I felt that these guards were so poisonous that up until this day, there is still a place in my heart that felt frustration due to my inability to confirm whether they were actually twins who were born out of an unchaste relationship that was devoid of the blessings of Saint Beaumont. They were truly ugly bastards if my speculations were to be true.

However, surrendering our weapons was a rather new protocol. Normally, we were allowed to bring weapons that we may or may not use to flaunt our wealth or achievements. Perhaps the King was growing wary of people wanting to kill him. Were that the case, it would be rude of him to assume that a highborn possess the same amount of vulgar barbarity as men of inferior birth

Nevertheless, I retained my dignity for the sake of my vanity and smirked in front of the royal guards. My head was eventually cleared of any negative thoughts as I walked towards the entrance. Upon entering the palace, my senses would’ve been shocked if I weren't used to seeing the magnificence of my own. However, its elegance was not as memorable as its grandiose exterior, with its interior mostly made out of a sort of hardwood. Perhaps the most memorable part was the massive oval ceiling painting which depicted the final battle in the Book of Revelations - the Battle of Armageddon where the men of righteousness poised themselves to strike at evil.

The place was already packed with a lot of nobility around the country. I have forgotten that my schedule was different than others and it appears that I am late for a few hours and missed some introductions. The people seemed to have their eyes on me once I entered and hid their whispers with a white glove, they must've thought something about me being bold enough to come into the feast quite late. Nevertheless, I was sure that they were boring and not worth watching. The orchestra played some sort of Baroque music and they were quite good since I've always liked the united harmony of instruments. As I walked aimlessly, I accidentally wandered into my clique and we proceeded to do the usual pleasantries like the pretentious cunts we were.

“Unpunctual as always, Your Grace?” Greeted Henri Theodore, Marquis de Saint Michel. He was one of my most loyal peers in the realm and our bond was forged, like most of my allies, with our long history of skirmishes against the sand devils beyond the realm’s borders. However, despite him being of lower nobility rank, I looked up to him as a senior due to his larger experience in combat and his age almost being twice as mine.

“Sure you jest, Marquis. My schedule simply has a different pace than the rest.”

“What have I missed in my absence?”

“Nothing important, to you at least. I suppose that you do not take an interest in pointless festivities and the like.” I’m amazed that he even knew my inherent dislike for such frivolous matters. Is he really that perceptive or am I just oblivious to my own mannerisms?

“Of course...of course not. I haven’t seen the King, where is he?”

“He hasn’t appeared yet. Although, I overheard some discussion that will present himself in a few minutes or so.”

“I see.”

“What sort of wine would you prefer, Duke of Richelieu?” Interjected a servant of William Gustave, Prince of Beauville and the son of the King. The said person seems to be behind him with a keen eye, trying to observe me and my clique. No...no...this mentally deficient pile of blubber couldn’t possibly have this sort of specialized thinking.

“Guevremo-...on second thought, water would be nice. A spring of freshwater keeps the body and mind healthy, as they say.”

“You’ll be turning thirty this year, Duke. Surely, you still don’t believe in those healthy lifestyle manuscripts from Tsion that you found in your palace’s library.” Ridiculous, he still remembers the book we found more than a decade ago while we were still good buddies. And who the hell is he to speak about my precautions to health, this nincompoop four hundred pound landwhale who recently had a heart attack doesn’t have anything to say about my health practices.

“A necessary precaution, Prince. A healthy body is a key to a healthy mind.”

“Are you implying that my mind is unhealthy.” As mentally deficient as he was, the Prince had good self-awareness at least.

“Of course not, the saints have mandated that kingly lineage are exempt from limitations imposed on those who do not directly receive god’s divine blessing. How we wish that we possess similar powers that do not limit our mortal bodies.” Keeping him offended wouldn’t be for the best, I had to come up with false passages that weren't even found in the scriptures.

“Yes...Yes, indeed...It’s good that you know your place. I’ve always thought you were simply a fitness enthusiast and didn’t expect that you’re a scholar of the scriptures.” Arghhh….I wanted to rip his face apart. Why wasn’t he leaving? Why isn’t he even asking where I got this scripture? Was it a successful dice roll?

“Not as knowledgeable as you may imagine.”

“Indeed, perhaps not as knowledgeable as the royal family.” At this point, I stopped caring. My clique also seemed powerless to assist me in getting the Prince out so we could return towards having a healthy discussion.

Luckily for me, the music ended with a sudden drumroll which signifies that the King was about to present himself.

"Presenting, His Royal Majesty, the King!" Some two to four royal guards shouted in announcement.

The King slowly walked down from the endless flight of stairs and completely changed the atmosphere in the hall. He was somehow taller than most of us, looked relatively young despite being in his late 40s, and had masculine chiseled features that most including me could ever dream of having. He had an aura of utmost authority and most of those who criticize him behind his back were now mostly kneeling with respect for him painted on their faces — a truly pathetic sight for me to look at without a hint of disgust. It also was strange how the hideous pile of blubber that was trying his best to mock me not a while ago was actually his son, did he inherit his features from his mother or was he found in a ditch? Speaking of his son, he was kneeling with both knees on my side and he was pulling me down to kneel in which I did so out of etiquette.

The part of the Prince being found on a ditch was something out from the rumors about the King being of the wrong gender orientation, however, I thought they might be just rumors after all because I could not see this man being a homosexual and saw him as an ideal masculine figure that must be emulated by all males of the Kingdom. I mean, even if he was of this orientation, I see no reason to dislike him even if the scriptures declare him as a deviant. The only reason why he's my enemy was that he outsmarted me, just like the rest. It was simply funny that they probably want to bring out this issue so they'll have more justifications to dislike him aside from our natural right as nobility.

"Welcome to my feast." He declared with a smile as he finished walking down the stairs and sat on his on a golden chair that was one level above us. It finally began, the introduction of my story of descent towards the highest.

To be continued

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Mon Feb 10, 2020 10:05 pm

S1E5
_{BATTLESTATIONS TIAMAT}

In reaction to the attack on Yepes' port, Vesperanze and Maturoch are now officially engaged in hostilities. Vessels of the RVN are called to sea to crush Volkist forces in Serafim and avoid Maturochi interference in the battle over the vital bay city.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Battlestations Tiamat, Act 1 | Chapter 2
"Skirmish on San Eliseo Bay"

Alut Gulf Taskforce
High Seas
Brillardere 55, 251 AE
5:00 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

The aftermath of the Yepes Port attack had effectively decimated the Royal Vesperanzan Navy's Sirena class of cruisers, the Kingdom still reeling in the aftermath. Already, vessels assigned to the rebellious Vesperanzan colony of Endovéllico had been recalled to Tiamat, expecting a showdown with the Alut Gulf Taskforce.

Naru had no intentions of giving them what they wanted — not yet, anyway. While their enemy still licked their wounds, the fleet had garnered itself a precious resource: time. Standing there, Naru observed the aftermath of a scientific mission from the deck of her own vessel: aboard the armored cruiser MIN Abullu-Axratu (TM-18), cranes held something of particular interest above the aft deck, wreckage from the earliest days of Vestan history.

A faded flag was still visible on the surface of the ancient craft's solid black frame (though the years had been unkind). From what the archaeologists had said, it pertained to the old Tsionic polity of Oesterra. It had been recovered four days prior, but was now due to be sent to the capital. With civilian research vessels bound to arrive at any hour, Naru knew that her work in that regard was mostly done. There was a matter at hand — one that demanded the fleet prepare.

"Prepare a helicopter," Naru instructed one of her aides. "..I believe a discussion of the current situation is overdue."

Her order would be met with unwavering compliance, to which it would not be long before she stood before one of the H-239 utility helicopters, lifted to the deck by one of the vessel's elevators. They were small, sturdy, reliable — to which they'd been the staple transport helicopter in Navy service for over a decade.

---==============---

An H-239.

The controls of the cockpit glowed in the pre-dawn darkness, illuminating the features of the pilot and co-pilot. "Where to, ma'am?"

"The Alaktu." replied Naru, fastening her harnesses as the helicopter's rotors whirred to life. With a simple 'Copy that.' as the reply, the crew got to work — to which the helicopter would soon lift off from the flight deck of the Radu, gracefully cutting through the twilight sky. It would be awhile before the sun rose in the east... and to strike while the darkness still hung over the fleet was ideal.

Soon enough, the Alaktu came into view... at first as a grouping of lights at the horizon's edge, slowly drawing near as it came into view. The lights cast strange reflections into the waters below, meriting reactions here and there from the bioluminescent sealife just beneath the surface.

Reaching for his radio, the pilot notified the vessel in question as they approached.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[Radu Air Group][ST/A-9][H-239][♂️] "RABHAT intends to pay a visit. Ensure LZ is clear... over."

With a gradual descent, the helicopter touched down upon the Alaktu's aft helipad, doors swinging open as the young naval officer stepped off. Naturally, her arrival merited salutes from those present on deck... though her mind was on a more pertinent matter at the moment.

"At ease... where is commander Anshar?"

“He would be at the bridge, ma’am.” One of the sailors replied.

With a nod, Naru continued on... all seemed to be at its usual aboard the Alaktu, most quickening their work in the presence of the Alut Gulf Taskforce's commanding officer. At the bridge, Naru would see more of the same - the crew working diligently under the eye of their captain. Word of her arrival had already made its way to him, Anshar turning around to offer her a salute.

"I hope it isn't too early for a courtesy visit." Naru joked, studying the rows of officers at their stations.

Glancing over to a mug of coffee, he gave a single chuckle. “It’ll have to do.”

"Before the Taskforce commits to any further action, I'd like to review what we do with Vesperanzan POWs from the engagement at Yepes... along with a more pertinent undertaking. I would propose someplace discreet — your stateroom, perhaps."

“Sounds fair enough, then.” Anshar replied, grabbing the afore-mentioned mug of coffee. The Alaktu’s interiors weren’t like the Radu’s in very many ways, so he would lead his superior over to the captain’s stateroom, designed in a way befitting any captain of a vessel as grand as the Alaktu.

Naru was quick to get to the point. "..it's come to my attention that we hold a fair amount of prisoners from the Yepes operation. What we decide to do with them... may affect how this conflict is perceived in the eyes of the public."

“Well, what are our options?” Anshar asked.

"Arranging for their transfer to the mainland is one option... but that would impose delays on our impending plans. Or we can dispose of them all. Or... we can keep them aboard the brigs as-is, at the risk of future troubles."

Taking a moment to ponder the options, Anshar would walk over to his dresser to grab a fine Maturochi cigar. “Well, way I see it... we shouldn’t be wasting time so the prisoners can be transferred. And keeping these prisoners, they very well could try something. Here’s what I say, ma’am: nobody will care what happens to these sailors, so long as none of our own men are coming home in caskets. That’s the way the world works.”

Naru hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "I'll leave that decision to you, then. History will exonerate us in doing what was necessary... but there is a more pertinent matter. I've received information from the capital regarding Vesperanzan fleet movements — a strike group is headed up this bay as we speak to crush rebel forces in Serafim. Stopping them is our next move."

“I expect the Kingdom’s going to continue to be disappointed.” Anshar replied, exuding a puff of smoke. “We’re the main force in the way for them. Which means we’ll be entering combat soon.”

"My intentions are to intercept the RVN fleet before they reach their destination. As my second-in-command, I'm informing you in advance. We don't know what this group'll be fielding, but our intel gives us a good guess that we'll be dealing with..." Naru paused, as if for dramatic effect. "..a battleship. So keep those weapons at the ready. We'll be giving the Vesperanzans the show they're looking for."

Anshar gave her a nod. “We’ll make it a show, alright.”

Aboard the Radu, the stage seemed set. From within the CIC, Naru observed the present situation. ELINT could already approximate there were ten vessels approaching from the south, set on a seemingly northwest-bound course towards Serafim. The strategically vital port city along San Eliseo Bay would be of the utmost importance in deciding the state of the naval theatre... naturally, time was of the essence.

If Naru allowed rebel forces in the city to be annihilated at the hands of the Vesperanzan fleet, the strategic balance on the Delabismo Peninsula itself could be forever altered... she knew well what the consequences would be.

"Fighter Squadron 7 is ready for launch," One of her subordinates announced, putting his headset aside.

To this, Naru gave a nod. "I want them airborne as soon as possible — anti-ship loadouts at the ready. I will be in my stateroom... I have a battle to coordinate."

Her own stateroom offered a fair bit of amenities, as was to be expected — the c-writer at her desk was complemented by several bulky cathode ray tube monitors mounted upon the wall, each giving an overview of differing streams of data pertaining to various affairs relating to the fleet.

Naturally, communicating with her immediate subordinate within the Taskforce's hierarchy was the more relevant task at hand. With the c-writer booting up, Naru was quick to get to work.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Fighter squadron deploying. Once vessel identities are confirmed, you may commence your own attacks."

Leaning back in her seat, Naru awaited a reply.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Understood. Will await enemy vessel confirmation."

Over the horizon, the group of MA/A-239 Tabihu carrier fighters approached. Each carried a single S234 Diparu anti-ship cruise missile... said missiles would provide apt distraction as the aircraft scouted the enemy group of vessels, identifying them and feeding back data to the rest of the fleet... at least, that was the plan.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABSIRB. Luhrahsu][♂] "Let's get this show on the road, gentlemen. Let the hounds loose... and keep your eyes peeled."

With a swift motion, the fourteen aircraft fired away their payloads, gracefully ascending into the clouds above as the missiles crossed the sea, flying just above the waterline.

---==============---

Missiles away.

A missile knows where it is, naturally. In seconds, one of the enemy fleet's vanguard ships is approached by one of the rapidly-approaching missiles — a Constante-class destroyer. With a lock, it accelerates towards its target... point defense SAMs narrowly missing the guided missile as it keeps on its path.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Halcón Crew][♀️] "Deploy countermeasures!"

Flares and chaff fill the air, hardly deterring the inbound missile. Cutting past the smoke and mirrors, the missile meets its target — ripping through the starboard side, explosion erupting from where the vessel's smokestacks once stood.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Halcón Captain][♂] "Report status!"
[NMV Halcón Crew][♂] "Engine room is hit, sir! We're dead in the water!"

Twirling her pen in the air, Naru listened intently... surely more reports would come for her listening pleasure.

From the cockpit of his Tabihu, Luhrahsu could see the enemy flotilla below. Ten vessels, and among them... it was larger than any other, guns dwarfing those of its escort vessels. The NMV Yepes, third of the San Cristobal-class battleships. Older, yes — but certainly no less formidable than they were decades before. They were hunting big game... all hope lay in the approaching missiles to provide an adequate distraction.

---==============---

The NMV Yepes (A52), a San Cristobal-class battleship. Despite some engineering faults, its crew is among one of the better trained in Vesperanze's navy.

Below, the vessels were already swiftly reacting to the oncoming anti-ship missiles, their defenses raised...

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Héroe Crew][♀️] "Activate ECM!"

The Héroe had been lucky — narrowly evading the missile and sending it careening into the bleak darkness of the surrounding ocean. Héroe-class cruisers were, in the least, more technologically advanced than the Sirena-class cruisers the Alut Gulf Taskforce had put up with during the previous assault on Yepes harbor.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Héroe Crew][♀️] "We're in the clear!"
[NMV Yepes Crew][♂] "We're not!"

A flash erupted across the aft end of the vessel, missile outpacing the vessel's defenses... when the dust faded, it was clear the helipad had been reduced to flaming scrap, though the vessel stood tall and defiant.

The fires were spreading, tiny specks of sailors below desperately combatting the flames as they spread akin to wildfire.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Yepes][Almirante Roque Von Brocken][♂] "We've sustained damages to aft. Remain on course... the Maturochi will reveal themselves soon enough."
[NMV Dragón Crew][♂] "INCOMING!"

Another explosion — another Constante-class destroyer hit, almost capsizing as it stood damaged, smoke billowing from its side. All had unfolded in a matter of mere minutes, flames now illuminating the seas below. This was but the beginning, however.

The reports continued to flood in as Naru reclined in her leather seat — one destroyer destroyed, one oiler reduced to a flaming funeral pyre... and multiple hits on the Yepes. By sheer luck, Fighter Squadron 7 had eluded the air defenses of the enemy group and were now en route back to the carrier.

It was, once again, a resounding success for the Maturochi fleet... and would be an even more destructive blow if they managed to sink the Yepes. The so-called 'kings of the sea', defeated by mere cruisers... indeed, it would be a decisive show of force.

For the most part, it meant to Naru that her subordinate could handle the sweeping attack on the crippled group of enemy ships. It was time to give Anshar the go-ahead.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"All aircraft accounted for and returning to the Radu. I'm giving you the go-ahead to intervene. Besides ... I think they've been dealt a pretty good blow."

Sending the message, Naru sighed with relief. Coordinating the strike had gone surprisingly easy, all things considered... but it did get a little stressful. Waiting there before the c-writer, one hand on the keys while the other felt around... elsewhere, Naru already had a few ideas of how she'd destress while the battle raged on. Anshar was competent, after all. He could manage the next few steps on his own.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Understood, we’ll be sending a couple more ships to the bottom of the sea momentarily."

The message had taken some time to arrive, text glowing under the lens as it arrived. It'd interrupted Naru, to say the least... but she figured a reply was in order. Typing with one hand, Naru issued a reply that was simple enough — after all, there were more pertinent matters at present.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Good luck."

Good luck.

The words would flash across the screen of Anshar’s c-writer over on the Alaktu, the captain taking a brief moment to read it. Delightfully ominous, he thought. Well, it was time to move onto pressing manners. The Radu’s aircraft had done good work on softening up the enemy fleet, especially that battleship among it, and it would now come down to the Maturochi ships to properly put an end to the force.

Looking up from the c-writer’s screen though, the bridge - the fleet - awaited his command. Bringing his hands to the keyboard, Anshar would quickly type off some commands to the subordinate vessels under his command.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: MIN Seluku (M-78), MIN Belesis (M-81)

"MIN Seluku, MIN Belesis are to move forward of the fleet and fire missiles at the enemy force."

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[MIN Seluku (M-78)][RABMUT. Nidintu][♀️] "Message received, sir. Wilco!"
[MIN Belesis (M-81)][RABMUT. Laqip [♂] "Understood."

While the two destroyers would increase their speed, Anshar could only wait for a few brief moments, the ships quickly getting on to firing their payload of anti-ship missiles at the enemy. Two sets of smoke plumes would fly out from both ships, another volley of explosives headed for the enemy. Some time would pass, the missiles needing to traverse a few miles of distance on the prowl for their targets. As they went in to execute their targeting sequences, the Vesperanzean ships wouldn’t stay idle in defending themselves.

Observing from one of the bridge’s many screens, Anshar watched as the missiles began to disappear one by one, some quite short of their targets - they weren’t going to be surprised like they were at Yepes. The rest would disappear fairly rapidly, the first one slamming into the side of a ship.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Héroe Crew][♂] "Too fucking close for comfort!"

Two missiles went off the radar after that brief comment, one being intercepted, the other hitting its mark.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Héroe Crew][♂] "One of our torpedo launchers have been destroyed... thank God it wasn't loaded!"

The remaining four missiles would come in, one being intercepted, one... unexpectedly veering off course, and two smashing into enemy ships. Of the two hit, one’s radar blip would disappear momentarily after the hit.

All was not well aboard the Yepes. Standing tall at the CIC, Almirante Roque Von Brocken observed the various screens in the station. Their engines had been disabled — they were as good as dead in the water. There was no possibility of turning back now, lest the Yepes be scuttled at sea... something that would forever stain the Admiral's honor. Yet they were in a losing battle... a battle they now desperately needed to escape from.

He knew, in his 99.9% Teutonic heart, that he had to act. "Gentlemen, SITREP from the other decks?"

"Fires are spreading across aft and engine, Sir!"

"Get what munitions you can away from the blaze. The captain—"

"Missing, presumed dead. You're responsible over vessel and fleet."

The Vesperanzan admiral sighed, stroking his greyed moustache. "..and we're out of range, by all respects. They've ruined us from afar... that leaves us with one weapon of choice. Ready torpedoes. If anything'll show that bitch, it'll be a humiliation at sea."

There were solemn nods in the room as Von Brocken's subordinate officers enacted his order. Orders were given, weapons were readied...and yet the admiral remained tense. Did he weigh the value of his own honor above the lives of the myriad of sailors assigned to the vessels he was tasked with overseeing?

A coldness lingered, and it wasn't to do with the total failure of the air conditioning systems aboard the battleship. The admiral knew this battle would mean deciding... between honor and giving the Navy the ability to fight another day. Before he would come to any conclusion, however... he wished to test one question: could he drive the Maturochi to retreat if he managed to destroy one of their vessels?

With the Maturochi fleet approaching the Vesperanze Kingdom’s ships, many already crippled or sinking, the enemy’s next move would be to fire torpedoes from their battleship - hull sonar on the light cruisers Simnilka and Zirratbanit quickly detecting those coming at them.

With the first approaching the Simnilka, it would react first, deploying a SH199 decoy to throw off the torpedo. Successful, Anshar’s focus on the threat would quickly turn to the Zirratbanit, deploying it’s decoys as well. The second torpedo, however, would not be deceived, and the cruiser would have to perform some quick evasive maneuvers to avoid the torpedo.

“Time to summon the Admiral...” Anshar remarked aloud, moving to his c-writer.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Is there a squadron on Radu available? I believe another strike would speed things up before one of my ships is torpedoed."

There would be a ten minute delay before a reply came.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Fighter Squadron 3 is available. Is that everything?"

It had been an unusually quick ten minutes, but Anshar had noted the discrepancy in his superior’s reply. Perhaps there was some issue with her c-writer? He didn’t really know, the captain was slightly peeved but now felt relieved.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"I believe so."

The next reply would come quicker than the last.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Fair enough. I'll get them airborne. Once the battleship is dealt with, you should be able to get close."

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Understood."

Buttoning her uniform once more as she stepped into the CIC, Naru evaluated the situation. They'd done a fair bit of damage, judging by the reports now stacked across the desks, printed by the minute... but they were faced with a tough challenge: no, not the battleship... the other escort vessels. Either they were more competent than the sailors they faced in Yepes, or they'd merely possessed the advantage of surprise in the Vesperanzan military harbor. Either way, the young commander knew well it would be a test of her wits against those of her opponent's — an opportunity to prove the superiority of the carrier over the battleship once more.

"How are the squadrons faring? Tap us into comms." Naru instructed. Naturally, her orders were met with a compliant nod from one of the officers in the dimmed room.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu][♀️] "Status report?"
[RABSIRB. Kiyaru][♂] "We're coming in... it's going to be a fireworks show."

Data was being fed back to the Radu, to which Naru could observe the first flight fire away its anti-ship missiles. She could envision them, skimming just above the water as they rocketed towards their target... the Yepes. Chatter on enemy comms would answer most of the questions she had as each of the blips darted towards the enemy capital ship.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Yepes Crew][♀️] "Defend the Yepes at all costs!"

One by one, the blips disappeared, static and explosions overtaking enemy comms. Naru smirked — if they'd really scored a hit on the battleship... silently, she anticipated a word.

"The Yepes is holding, ma'am. Second flight is approaching." One of the officers reported, warranting a nod from the young commander as her eyes returned to the glow of the monitor above...

"Let's see what it takes to kill a battleship, then." She replied bluntly, arms crossed.

More blips, weaving across the screen — the anti-ship missile payloads of her squadron's second flight were coming close, and fast.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Yepes][Almirante Roque Von Brocken][♂] "Keep firing the guns! The Yepes will hold."

In another moment, the blips vanished as they came into contact with the vessel. A silence befell the room as Naru silently awaited a report once more, a warmth rising within her as she withheld the excitement that naturally came with the anticipation...

"Hits confirmed. The Yepes is still holding..."

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Yepes Crew][♀️] "..one of the main guns has been destroyed.. my god.. it's a miracle I haven't been blown sky high.."

"Third flight is approaching," One of the officers announced, meriting Naru's attention to return to the glowing screen above. The silence was deafening as she awaited what was to come, studying the map with precision and care as her strategy played out before her.

Three blips danced across the screen, Naru quietly visualizing the approach of the missiles against the flurry of gunfire from the vessel's myriad of outdated defenses...

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Yepes Crew][♀️] "INCOMING—"

Silence.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[RABSIRB. Kiyaru][♂] "Heh. The battleship's cracking in two... there she goes. Other flights also report a cruiser and destroyer eliminated."
[RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu][♀️] "..excellent work. Return to the Radu — don't celebrate too early."

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Hope that helps, Anshar. I'm sure I can leave mopping up the rest to you... right?"

The message came mere minutes following the destruction of the Yepes. Still, some cheers could be heard outside Anshar's stateroom, echoes of the crew celebrating the destruction of the enemy capital ship — proof, perhaps, that Maturoch's navy could stand toe-to-toe against the hulking battleships of Vesperanze's royal navy.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Thanks for the assistance."

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Of course. There'll be plenty to discuss when this is said and done."

Pausing for a brief moment, Anshar would recall to himself that the loss of the Yepes did not mean the remainder of the Vesperanzean ships had been defeated - a few were still afloat - but he didn’t entirely feel compelled to leave the comfort of his stateroom to give orders to fire his own vessel’s missiles.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: MIN Isitu (TM-17))

"Most of the enemy force is destroyed. The Isitu can begin cleaning up with her complement of missiles."

The Isitu, flagship of it’s class would be quick to respond to his command, distant sounds of missiles launching reverberating even into his stateroom. The firing of missiles would demand his brief return to the bridge to observe the following actions that the enemy would take, the captain navigating his way in just as the missiles were coming in on the radar...

What would happen, though, he certainly didn’t expect - one by one, their missiles disappeared, being swatted down by the three remaining vessels without any breakthroughs being made. The situation was enough to make him ask himself some things. ...what the hell?

Meanwhile, the Vesperanzans steadily approached closer to the fleet. It seemed they had something in mind... removing the range disparity between them, in an attempt to at least scratch the Maturochi fleet. Anshar couldn’t let that happen, of course.

“Prepare the guns! We’ll have to go low-tech.” He would order in his usual, cool and composed tone.

A brief lull would follow, two of the three remaining enemy ships approaching directly towards them. The Alaktu possessed a simple superiority to the enemy in terms of the range it’s guns possessed, which would allow it to fire first.

A loud roar of the cannons followed, one of the ships in the distant horizon being raked with explosions and fire as the three 203mm guns ripped through and obliterated much of the vessel. It’s now lone companion would retaliate by firing it’s own guns at another ship, the Seluku.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[MIN Seluku (M-78)][RABMUT. Nidintu][♀️] "We've been hit! ..engine room's breached, but no damage to the engines have been reported. Fires are minimal and contained... orders, sir?"
[MIN Alaktu (TM-19)][RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu][♂] "Move closer and fire torpedoes at him!"
[MIN Seluku (M-78)][RABMUT. Nidintu][♀️] "Understood!"

Even as smoke still billowed here and there from the Seluku, its torpedo launchers fired away... away they crossed the waters, skimming the sea as they approached the Astrolabio. A brief silence would follow... before an explosion ravaged the side of the Vesperanzan vessel. Flames licked the air as it briefly staggered back amid the waters, nearly capsizing in the wake of the blast.

---==============---

The end of the Astrolabio.

Silence... interrupted only by the occasional aftershock, explosions detonating here and there across the doomed cruiser.

ENEMY COMMS

[NMV Astrolabio Crew][♀️] "The captain is..."
[NMV Astrolabio Crew][♂] "Engines have been destroyed! Fires have ignited the fuel.. oh God.."
[NMV Astrolabio Officer][♀️] "We've bought time for the Cornelia to recover the others and evacuate... Vesperanze will smile upon our sacrifice. Abandon ship!"

“Evacuating, hmm?” Anshar asked aloud. “..I’ll consider this a mission accomplished.” Approaching over to his c-writer, the captain would type off a last, quick message to his superior.

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Vesperanzean force has been almost completely obliterated. One ship remains, but it is picking up survivors and evacuating from the area. DDG Seluku was damaged in the engine room, but engines are operational and the crew contained all fires. I believe this is a success."

It wouldn't take long for the reply to come.

FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)

"Excellent work. It seems we've dealt a decisive blow to their more competent crews... I'm sure rebel forces in Serafim will get some breathing room thanks to us. Return to formation."

FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)

"Will do."

With the fight near Serafim behind the fleet now, attention had turned towards some other concerns, which would have to be resolved. The Seluku in particular would need to be repaired, the POWs had still not been... taken care of, and they needed to plan their next move. But firstly, something else would be taking place...

Once again, Naru had made her arrival aboard the Alaktu. There was news to be delivered, and naturally she would be bringing it to her second-in-command. Their decisive victory at the mouth of San Eliseo Bay had served well in deterring the intentions of their opponents, and by the time the sun had risen, the tide in Serafim had turned... but still, there was a more important matter.

The psychic navigators of the fleet had witnessed and detailed the specifications of a Vesperanzan fleet formation, dubbed Fleet Group One. Comprising twenty-five vessels — headed by the battleship NMV Vesperanze — it became readily apparent that the ships called back from the colonies were far more significant a threat than Naru had anticipated. Her intentions remained the same, of course — to avoid it while they could.

From the Alaktu's deck, Naru could see the Seluku, damages across its structure. Repairs were ongoing... it was probable that haphazard repairs would need to be made until they stopped in port again. The way to Anshar's stateroom was a quiet one, though she still felt proud of their victory against the enemy battleship.

After all, if those beasts of the sea could be defeated by Maturoch... then so, too, could any other. It was empowering, to say the least. Knocking on the door with a gloved hand, Naru needed not announce her presence. Opening the door anyway, she stepped in. "Excellent work, commander. We've dealt them a decisive, humiliating blow. I suppose coming to your office to congratulate you personally was the least I could do."

Her arrival had only slightly surprised Anshar. “Well, thanks, I suppose...”

"..there's a few other matters, of course," She continued, seating herself opposite her subordinate. "Our fleet's psychic navigators have revealed the full extent of the enemy ships called back from the Vesperanzan colonies. Twenty-five vessels... headed by one of their finest vessels, the Vesperanze. I intend to continue avoiding them for the time being."

“Twenty-five vessels...” Anshar repeated. “No light matter, for sure.”

"Delay is the ideal course of action here, I believe... I've just come to inform you of the matter — and discuss what our current course of action should be." Her eyes perused her subordinate's desk, before meeting his eyes. He was, for the most part, fairly attentive to his duty — she could respect that well enough.

“We’ve gotten this far into San Eliseo Bay, what navy they still have around won’t be able to put up much of a fight... I guess once we’re done, we can just turn around and find this fleet.” He speculated.

"..we would be at a disadvantage if we allowed them to entrap us in the bay, however.." Naru thought aloud. "Nonetheless — we have a new batch of prisoners. I'm not entirely certain we can keep making martyrs of enemy sailors at this rate..."

Glancing to his left and right respectively, Anshar paused for a brief moment. “...you’re right.”

"We've got time to ferry them back to the mainland now, I'm sure. That leaves us only the question of what we're going to do next... in this campaign, that is.."

“Clean up San Eliseo Bay, I suppose...” He replied, perhaps oblivious to or just ignoring any hidden meaning in her words.

Naru nodded. "Before they can entrap us, ideally. I'll be leaving the usual responsibilities under your charge. As it stands, I'm sure my actions are giving me a bit of a reputation with the Vesperanzans — and probably the people back home, too. No way to know until we've reached port again, but.. something for me to think about, I suppose."

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

"If there's any other battleships sitting around in the bay, I'm sure we'll hear about them in due time. We've only eliminated one of a whole class... so it's best we exercise caution in the future, obsolete as our opponents may be." Getting up, Naru paused at the door to turn around. "..and, uh, good work, I suppose. You're pretty good at this whole deal. I'm definitely trusting you a lot more than I used to."

“Uh- thanks, ma’am.” Anshar replied. “Glad to serve.”

With a nod, Anshar's superior took her leave, the door closing after her. Duty never faltered, especially not in the midst of the campaign. There was still an enemy fleet to be defeated... and it seemed then that the balance of power in all Tiamat rested in the hands of the two Maturochi naval officers.

by **Forest State** » Thu Feb 13, 2020 6:17 am

1821
S1E2
_{UNCIVIL UNREST}

As the nation of Avarece descends into the second week of student protests, the military government has brought in foreign assistance to deal with two of the biggest instigators.

Travia International Airport, Travia, State of Avarece
January 13th, 480 AC - Brillardere 53rd, 251 AE
1:30 PM
Collaborative post between Forest State and Valefontaine

The trip to Avarece was a long one that, while it would take up many hours and carry them far away from where they had first started out, had at least been somewhat comfortable. As it turned out, the team of mercenaries had been transported by a Yenov 111 which had no military markings or anything else of the sort, but rather belonged to Lyachevo Sky Cargo, a company that was owned by none other than the Voronov family.

Kostya had seemed sheepish about the subject, preferring to not have anyone look into just who was providing the plane, perhaps because she herself didn’t exactly fit into the usual structure of the family and wanted others to forget that they were involved - she was hanging with criminals rather than going into the military or a more prestigious mercenary firm, she had ducked out of studying for business and getting involved in one of the numerous ones that her family had their hands in around Vojvodea, and even her general sense of style didn’t quite match with the more high class House Voronov which was known around the country for its wealth, being located primarily in the southern coastal areas around Lyachevo which benefited from foreign trade and a favorable environment compared to the north.

However, those issues were hardly talked about on the flight there, and after the hours of traveling were completed, the large converted airliner - which only had a small number of seats within it, a last minute addition thanks to the unconventional nature of this official ‘cargo’ flight - touched down in a city that was considerably less dense and vertical compared to the one they had departed out of… they were in Travia now, the capital of the State of Avarece, and presumably the location where their first task would be. Because Travia was also the place where protests were going into their second week, with the university in this city at the heart of the drama.

The large plane outweighed most of the ones around here, so it was a notable sight to watch for some of the locals as it taxied to the apron, engaged the brakes, and finally came to a stop. Moments later, the doors were opened. In front of the mercenaries was not only the rest of the airport as well as the entirely different natural surroundings of this place, which were far more hospitable than the more northern Vojvodea, but a small group of people who were already waiting for them. Apparently based on their militaristic style of dress, with olive drabs and camouflage fit for a sunny and temperate area like this one, they were with the Avarecian government.

“Guess that’s the client,” said Kostya, stepping out of the doorway first and starting down the steps to the concrete apron below, followed by Rah - though in this case, Kostya would most likely be the highest ranking one during field work, as the business and strategic side rather than the operational side was where Rah shone. Delegating the position of leader in the field to Kostya made sense in this case.

"As long as the pay's good.." Hurlanni murmured, not far behind the rest.

At the head of the group of locals was probably the one who was supposed to meet them - they hadn’t been given a name, but the fact that the man was the only one in the group who was wearing shades rather than just a regular military uniform, as well as the general shifty demeanor about him, seemed to indicate some kind of intelligence background compared to the others. The others looked like they could have just been pulled from any unit, but this man, well… he almost appeared out of place, a spy made to dress like a soldier rather than the others who appeared genuine in their style.

Then again, not all of the intelligence people around here were to be trusted either. They had been contracted by the national leader herself rather than by the government in general for good reason… the government in this country was hardly unified despite keeping the appearance of being a united front. Time would tell if there was a real basis for that appearance, or if it was just that, a facade.

“Welcome to Avarece, miei amici,” said the man in the shades, speaking in Euphemian. “My name is Martino, and I’m with the Admiral’s personal guard. Don’t mind the rest of the group here… just some others from the Army who have been deemed loyal enough for this service. Presumably, you’re ready to begin working immediately…”

“Well, yes,” nodded Kostya, surprised that they were getting to the job this quickly but not having much of a problem with their client not digging too much into their backgrounds. It would likely be for the best that the client treated them like this and not… like what they were underneath the branding, which was a bunch of criminals looking to profit off of some chaos for various reasons which changed from member to member.

“The Admiral has ordered me to give you this,” Martino said, extending a folder to Kostya, who took it quickly and took a peek inside. “Details about a time sensitive job. You already know there’s protests, but the students at Travia University, in their youthful vigor, are planning to take things further. The folder here has notes from Army Intelligence on how to accomplish what needs to get done… should you attempt this task, you will be in action as soon as early tomorrow.”

“Not a problem,” Kostya stated, closing the folder and handing it to Hurlanni - she’d let her colleague take a look at what had been written by Army Intelligence, too. It was a large update from anything they had looked at before, based on publicly available sources. No longer were they considering news clippings and journalistic articles, but looking at specific names and faces which had to be taken out to control a movement that was set to take a symbolic step forward.

"Hm.." Hurlanni thought aloud, eyes perusing the contents of the folder. "Zappa's something of a tough guy, then. I believe we'll need a bit of strategizing to decide how this gets done."

“There’s a few cops that can tell you all about Zappa being a tough guy. Probably could have been a professional fighter if he didn’t head down this path,” stated Martino, pausing. “But even the strongest have a hard time surviving a quick strike with bullets.”

"..he's only human after all.." Hurlanni muttered.

Martino gestured behind, to a spot further on the apron where there was a car waiting. “As for strategy, a hotel has already been arranged for you, not far from the university,” he said, before reaching into a pocket and handing a pair of keys to Kostya. “You may find it useful to look over the intelligence report in detail when you get there. Any further questions?”

Hurlanni spoke for the silence that followed. "I believe everything is in order. Do we have a layout of the University itself, if I might ask?"

“Included towards the back of the folder should be a map… though as a warning, the narrow streets are something of a maze. You may wish to check them out for yourself before things kick off tomorrow,” the local man replied.

Nodding, Hurlanni glanced to his peers, silently pondering whether there were any other questions to be had.

“Guess we’ll drive to the hotel now,” said Kostya, looking down at a small note that had been passed with the keys - an address located not far from downtown. The entire downtown area and university area were somewhat mixed together, apparently… a recipe for chaos if these riots spread beyond just the school.

The Repubblica hotel was rather ironically named - the country was no longer a republic or anything resembling one, and most wouldn’t be able to say what the country was beyond the fact that the military ran it… no one could say whether it was an Army state or a Navy state or if it was run from the shadows by Army Intelligence, and that was perhaps what Grazia Regina Evangelista wanted to correct by bringing in support from abroad. The state wasn’t one in her image right now, but it could be if her regime survived the external pressure from democratic movements and the like as well as the internal pressure from other officers.

The hotel wasn’t the greatest but it also wasn’t the worst… it was a dip in quality from what Kostya was used to, but considering her noble background, most hotels that weren’t five stars were. She supposed this was just part of joining this group and not something more prestigious like her family would have wanted her to if she’d given them a say. There were, of course, better hotels in Travia… but this somewhat old one was a better place to stay without drawing too much attention. They didn’t need murmurs on the streets from the high class clientele of another hotel about the strange foreign mercenaries that had shown up in the capital.

“Guess the rest of you can come to my room and take a look at this folder,” Kostya said, pausing in the hallway before stepping inside the room that had the same number as the one on her door key. The interior was about what one would expect after seeing the rest of the building - not the most modern, but the wooden construction of most of the things in the room was built to last at least, and it was fairly clean with a window view that overlooked some of the downtown area off in the near distance. Setting her sole bag down, Kostya chose to not unpack straight away and instead placed the folder down on the table by the window.

"I presume we'll be deciding the method of our actions to-be," Hurlanni spoke, welcoming himself into the hotel room. The typical hotel room scent, with the faint tinge of cigarettes, was to be expected. "Nicer places in Armannu, I suppose, but we are in Avarece of all places.. pleasant by their standards."

“Lyachevo has nicer places too, but the nicest places around here are Army controlled… and we’re ‘civilians’ here,” shrugged Kostya, watching as Ki-young Rah and the others entered the room. “Might as well get to work, we’re not going to spend too much time in this room anyway,” she added, opening up the folder and looking at the notes that had been written by Army Intelligence about possible options at their disposal.

“Not going loud is for the better,” Rah stated, while Jung-nam, Chan-woo, and Hyo-rin took a look at the folder for the first time after not having seen it when it was opened earlier. “Sniping is definitely an option if we want to finish this quickly…”

To this, Hurlanni glanced to his own rifle, contained within the case slung over his shoulder. "Mm.. certainly a good fallback option."

“But infiltration’s more of a sure thing,” Kostya stated, pondering it. “Longer amount of time to look for the targets and do something to handle them. Might only be able to hit them at one specific point if we’re sniping.”

“Suppose it’s the same with the bomb… but if it’s like laying a mine, I might be able to do it with my military experience,” added Chan-woo.

"I propose we enact at least two of the four options," Hurlanni suggested, noting the contents of the document. "If one doesn't work out, the other can most certainly be an option."

“Kostya and Jung-nam can take the infiltration route, Hurlanni can handle the sniping, and Hyo-rin and Chan-woo can attempt to lay the explosives?” Rah raised as a suggestion, looking around to the others. Kostya, at least, seemed to think it was a good idea… she nodded, while most of the others seemed at least partial to it.

“Never touched a bomb before,” Hyo-rin stated, but Chan-woo didn’t seem concerned.

“Which is why I’m the one laying it, you can just help with any… complications,” said Chan-woo, the one that actually had experience in such matters unlike the younger girl from Sangju.

"I can do that." Hurlanni nodded, mildly satisfied with his role. "Get me a change of clothes and I can blend into the crowd. Get somewhere high, with a view... just need to know where they might pop up."

“I’ve brought some extra clothes… though we have a day to get anything we need, if you want to blend in further,” Rah stated. “Kostya, I presume the infiltration won’t be a problem?”

“Nah,” Kostya replied simply, somewhat confident in her ability to blend in. “I might be a noble but I’ve already shown I’m good enough at blending in with a bunch of commoners.”

"Mm.. so which one of us will be departing in advance, then?" Hurlanni questioned, looking to Rah. "It would only warrant suspicion if the intended players left the hotel as a group."

“I believe me and Jung-nam have to head out first to get to the protest around the same time it’s starting,” Kostya said, thinking of the schedules. “What you’re doing is a bit more flexible, I think.”

Hurlanni shrugged. "I don't mean to doubt, but perhaps it's best I take point first, get somewhere high... I can be on standby if things don't go as planned."

“I’m adaptable,” Kostya said, although she wasn’t sure how it would turn out showing up mid march and claiming to be with the rioters. “So do what you think is best.”

"I don't imply you need to wait on me to commence your own part of things," replied Hurlanni. "Just that we shouldn't be caught with our pants down. Ideally, I'll get out of here a few minutes in advance."

“Yeah? Just hope you’ll be able to cover me if shit goes down,” Kostya said - her words were more teasing than questioning his skill, even if she didn’t know just how effective or not he was before. Like some of the others here, she hadn’t worked with Hurlanni before.

To this, the Maturochi smirked. "I'll try."

To say Hurlanni hadn't expected the sheer scale of the riots would be to lie — he'd seen worse riots in Armannu's Auspicious District, back when Amrita — the cure to Vestan grav-sickness and the atrophy it brought — was something the average Maturochi had to pay for.

His sunglasses were propped up, partly obscured by his silky black hair — after all, a spook with sunglasses on would be too cliché. The case containing his rifle was slung over his shoulder, though it could easily be anything else to a bystander's eye. Already things were beginning to heat up on the streets of Travia. The natural order of things seemed almost as if it were on its last heels, and Hurlanni could smell it. Street smarts were, in a way, a sixth sense... and the air was cloyed with the scent of trouble.

The battle lines so to speak were somewhat clear at least, militarized police officers going against larger crowds of students who outnumbered them in crowd size but not in intimidation factor, with the face of every officer hidden by smoke colored visors and their physical figure enhanced by the bulky protective equipment they wore. That wasn’t to say that the students weren’t motivated, however, with the occasional firecracker or other such weapon being mixed in with the rocks that were being thrown… not everyone was towards the frontline, however. Some students were hanging further back, and at least one who had a camera in hand and a less athletic body type than some of the larger troublemakers who were getting into fights - seemingly a journalist of sorts - caught side of Hurlanni and didn’t look away immediately. He did stand out slightly, compared to the locals.

A journalist... but looks can deceive. A spook would stand out a bit more, though. Let him have his article, his piece in the Whatever Times... the fact he's on the frontlines only marginally makes him less of a parasite.

With caution, Hurlanni slipped into the fold of the crowd once more, eluding the man's brief gaze.

There were others in the crowds that would notice something off with someone who wasn’t following the same pattern of movement as everyone else and charging straight for the police lines, however - in this case, that person was someone that was apparently with the police. “Hey!” called out an officer who was standing near the peripherals of the crowd, dressed in regular uniform rather than riot gear… apparently one of the ones helping to prevent spillover by keeping the crowd on a single path. It appeared Hurlanni’s unusual motion, as he went for a specific location rather than following after the others, had caught the officer’s attention and made him think that he was part of the protest and not fighting against it.

This warranted a confused glance from Hurlanni — only for him to realize the officer's attention was set on a man behind him. Luck worked in curious ways, he supposed. Walking past the confrontation between bystander and officer, Hurlanni continued through the urban maze that was Travia's streets.

Like an unspoken sense, I can tell I'm getting closer to the heart of the demonstrations... I've set my eye on the building I want. Apartment block, looming a few floors above its adjacent structures. Decent overlook on the surrounding area, I'd reckon. Judging by the feng shui in its design, it's probably contract work by Zhu real estate developers... pleasant to look at, at least.

The police had moved back somewhat as the protest continued and they weren’t far away from the target destination now - Mariner’s Square, a place that had a large monument of an anchor in the middle, a reflection of the role that the sea played in society around here… granted, it was slightly ironic that such a monument was located in Travia rather than one of Avarece’s port cities. Hurlanni would remain undetected as the rioters grew closer to their overall goal, their focus more on making a last push against the riot police than on breaking their skirmishes to bother looking at anyone that was mixed in around the crowd.

Not my problem, I suppose. Time to check in.

Slipping past the unfolding chaos, Hurlanni slipped into the apartment block. It was, as expected, devoid of activity — only a few curiously watched from the lobby. He could presume that most of them were in their rooms, or had joined the rioters.

Up the stairs, Hurlanni began his ascent... it didn't take long for the Maturochi mercenary to reach the rooftop level. Thank Muxen, it was clear... with a cautious check of his surroundings, he set his case down and assembled his rifle.

Setting up his rooftop nest, Hurlanni was quick to reach for his communicator.

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[Hurlanni][♂] "I'm close to the trouble... safe to say I'm in position."

[Kostya][♀] “Nice work… Managed to beat me there actually.”

[Hurlanni][♂] "Heh. Good luck.."

Fortunately for Kostya, getting into the riot’s crowd wasn’t all that hard - looking the part was easy, as she dressed a bit more casually than she usually would even by her own standards, with Jung-nam wearing similar clothes. Both of them had much of their faces covered by scarves despite this technically being illegal. There were enough people doing it regardless for them to not only get away with it but blend in more because of it, as it made it harder for anyone to see that they weren’t quite from around these parts. Their complexion was a bit lighter, their eyes a bit different, but no one was focusing on them enough to notice those details under the masks. Yet.

They would have to put themselves under a bit more scrutiny if they wanted to get close to their targets. They had a made up mission after all, which they were supposed to refer to so they could get access to the right people.

“I’m glad I fuckin’ worked out…” Kostya muttered, running next to Jung-nam in a somewhat decently sized group of rioters before driving her foot through the window of a shop, careful to do it in a way where her boot made most of the penetration - she didn’t want to end up bleeding. Sure, they were here with the government, but if they didn’t do anything to appear like they were rioters, they would never be trusted as them.

“Oh yeah?” Jung-nam said, picking up a broken bottle from the ground and hurling it at the police line. Probably wouldn’t have too much affect, but it made them look the part as rioters. “We’ll see who has the better conditioning…”

“Still have a job to do,” Kostya said through a deep breath, turning in the other direction and running with the others as the police started another charge forwards - the skirmishing in the streets had a lot of these back and forths with one side making a move and the other side pushing back before retreating. As she ran, a pepper spray round fired by one of the officers broke apart near her, and she’d realized that she had narrowly avoided it getting on her clothes and potentially her skin. “That’s pepper spray…”

“If this was Sangju, the cops would be firing real guns at this point… ain’t scared,” Jung-nam said in a simple reply, keeping pace with Kostya as the rioters outran the latest charge. Helped that they were wearing civilian clothes and the police had heavy equipment on.

“Don’t know if you should be, though,” Kostya admitted, coming to a stop and drifting to the side of the group when things calmed down somewhat. “But like I said… we should be getting to the mission, probably. Hurlanni is already in position.”

“So we have to decide who to approach,” the other gangster said, as they drifted further from the others and spoke in a low tone.

“And we have to not fuck up the conversation, yes,” Kostya stated with a slight sigh. “I think the highest ranking one around here is the guy in the red shirt that we talked to when we first showed up… towards the back like he’s not risking getting arrested or anything near the front. Seen him give a couple of orders.”

“And you think he can get us to Alba?”

“I don’t think we completely have another option as far as looking for someone that can get us to who we need,” Kostya muttered, stepping back towards the crowd and heading towards the man she had just mentioned towards the back of it - while many of the rioters wore black, this guy wore red. Enough to distinguish himself a bit, which was what most protesters didn’t want. There was likely a meaning behind it, and one meaning was that he was some kind of leader and wore red so the rest of the group could easily notice his presence.

Approaching carefully, Kostya offered a wave to the red shirted man to get his attention before quickly going into what she had to say, not beating around the bush too much and giving extra time for it to be noticed that she wasn’t from around here. “Um, we need to break away from the rest of the group for something rather important,” she started, speaking quickly - better to speak quickly than allow someone to hear too much of her voice, and the fact that it was… different. “We have intelligence from Gradio to deliver to Leonzio Alba. Personally. Army Intelligence is too good at intercepting signals to risk sending it that way…”

“Unusual,” said the man in the red shirt, looking her over. Maybe she had put too many details in the lie. Maybe they used email and other such means after all, and her lie was obvious. It was, however, a legitimate concern she had brought up. Electronic signals could be intercepted… paper was much harder, requiring someone to intercept it in person. She could always bullshit her way through and say that she was bringing something more important than the usual reports.

“This is more important than usual,” she said, gesturing to the bag that was on her back. “Not the kind of thing you want the Army to get their hands on if it was sent the usual way.”

“You’re not going to find Alba around here, not yet anyway,” the man replied, gesturing back further down the street. “He should be approaching in another group, but it’s a maze around here and the police are hostile so… who knows how long that could be-”

“That’s what I needed to know,” said Kostya, grabbing Jung-nam and continuing in the direction the man had pointed, finding herself in a narrow street that she could see a bit better now that she was getting further away from the crowd. This crowd, anyway. There were still police officers moving through the streets, and there was supposedly another group coming this way.

“You think we’re going to be fine with all these cops?” Jung-nam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Keep it moving,” Kostya said simply, keeping her posture low but not pulling the makeshift mask down - they didn’t want to get confused for rioters, but they weren’t about to show their real faces without protection.

“Hey! You!” shouted one of the police officers, causing the rest of the group that Kostya and her partner were walking past to turn and face them, before breaking into a sprint to go after them. Seemed they believed they were legitimate rioters, and unfortunately, these were regular cops rather than the riot police who wore heavy protective gear. These lighter equipped cops were able to move quicker, but as Kostya turned around, she realized they were more focused on Jung-nam, who had been closer. For now, anyway.

“Go! I’ll run somewhere else or tell ‘em the truth if I get arrested,” he said… didn’t seem scared, either. As he had noted, the cops back home were tougher than the ones here anyway. So, Jung-nam turned and ran towards an alleyway, distracting the police while Kostya broke into a sprint further down the road, getting out of their sight eventually. After some more minutes of walking, at a slower and more careful pace, Kostya saw another group of protesters approaching in the near distance. “That’ll be the one…”

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[Kostya][♀] “I’m approaching the group that has Alba and maybe Zappa, which one of us is going to carry this thing out? Jung-nam had to make a detour to lose some cops, so I’m on my own.”

[Hurlanni][♂] "I haven't got a visual on you. Keep moving and I'll report if I get eyes on you."

[Kostya][♀] “Not that far off… I’ll stay with them.”

[Chan-woo][♂] “The bomb is in position, if we’re going that route.”

[Kostya][♀] “Shit, don’t set it off without my order. Don’t want to get caught in it.”

Kostya allowed herself to mix in with the crowd, though she had to get to one person in specific who was near the back, and surrounded by a fair amount of dedicated followers who became de facto protection. She moved against the flow, headed towards the safer rear areas were the leader was - she knew it because of the way one area was better protected than the others, but simply found herself on the outer wall of people. “Excuse me, I need to see Alba and deliver some intelligence from Gradio…”

It didn’t seem that anyone in this quick moving protest wanted to argue too much, and she was able to get through as she took a quick step forward shortly after saying her intentions. However, she now found herself within visual range of both Alba and Zappa, and she could finish things now if she wanted, but it would of course panic the crowd and she wasn’t sure if attacking right away was the smartest route - even for a thrill seeker like her. Knowing the way things had been, at least a couple of these people had to be armed, also.

She considered announcing her position to her allies, but as she waited to make a decision, it was clear to her that doing so would only create more problems. Too much proximity, someone would hear her in this tight space whether she whispered or not. She was… Stuck at a hard crossroads, and simply continued to walk for now as they advanced in the direction of the square.

The square, however, was getting closer and it was getting to the point where a decision would have to be made. She had a YA-88 pistol inside her jacket, but as soon as she brought it out… She would have limited time at best to take out the opponent. Taking a deep breath, she decided that the most important thing was prioritizing Alba first as their main target, and spun around while taking the pistol out.

She could’ve said something, made things a little more interesting, but the fact of the matter was, there were no dramatic lines or anything of the sort coming to the forefront of her mind as she leveled the pistol with both hands, her perception slowing somewhat with the adrenaline rush taking effect and her eyes darting from face to face before settling on the one in front of her, that of the protest leader Leonzio Alba. She wouldn’t forget his surprised look as the one in front of him turned around and now had a gun pointed at him, probably the last thing he had expected.

The gunshot seemed to ring out before Kostya even realized what she was doing.

The black shirt of the boy she’d just shot was now stained with a hard to see but still visible crimson, and the crowd cried out, and Alba’s second in command, Zappa, was looking over towards her… all of it happened within a moment. And she wasn’t going to stick around - taking out Zappa would have been far easier if she had come here with Jung-nam like the plan dictated. But going off plan had been necessary, and the next best outcome now was taking out Alba and escaping out of the dense crowd for safety.

She didn’t dare say anything yet, simply hoping the others heard the gunshot, and she couldn’t have been quicker in pushing the nearest people at the edges of the crowd out of her way as she attempted to break out of it - someone had seen her and tried to grab her on the shoulder but she simply elbowed them in the face without looking, feeling the hand disappear from her shoulder… and with that, she ran at full sprint into the alley that was nearest to the scene of the killing, grabbing her mask to prevent it from falling off and exposing herself.

CRACK

More screams filled the crowd, chaos erupting as another form fell flat, almost indistinguishable from the chaotic stampede unfolding around Kostya — Zappa lay dead not far from Alba himself, grey matter and viscera scattered across the cobblestone street. The confusion was well-founded — between Alba and Zappa, nobody could really tell where the shots that'd silenced the student leaders had come from...

TRANSCRIPT VIEWER

[Hurlanni][♂] "Decided to help your escape.. tsk tsk."

[Kostya][♀] “Thank Ouriel… fucking scared outta my mind right now… I’ll catch up with you guys.”

There were still a couple of people that were distinctly rioters following her as she ended up in the alleyway, and she knew she couldn’t outrun them forever, so she spun and decided to try and eliminate them quickly. Her hands were still shaking, but that was why she was using two hands to hold her gun - and she fired the first shot about as soon as she turned and could see them in her line of sight… The bullet hit her foe in the hip, not a killing blow but it was enough to make him drop to the ground, as she swung her pistol around to face the second pursuer and stepped to the side, aiming to avoid a grappling attempt before it could begin.

She wasn’t an expert in martial arts by any means but any noble that wanted to be taken seriously in Vojvodea had received at least some basic training - and she knew enough to allow her opponent’s momentum to carry him off balance, stepping behind as it happened and firing her pistol once again… The shot wasn’t as accurate as she would have hoped but she wasn’t complaining about the result. It went through the back of the man’s abdomen, causing a scream of pain as Kostya swept his legs out from under him with a quick move while he was braced against the alley wall trying to stay up.

“Guess the training was worth something…” she muttered, aiming the pistol down and firing one more round through the man’s chest to ensure he wouldn’t get up again… she didn’t give the same treatment to his partner because that partner was further away and she wasn’t sure how much time she had to work with. Tucking the pistol into her jacket again after switching the safety on, she continued down her path and disappeared around a corner before anyone could discover the fate of the two who’d tried to chase her down through here.

This is something of a mess.

Hurlanni's thoughts were an understatement as he fled — among most fleeing, anyhow — as the riot devolved into utter insanity in the aftermath of the killing. Some had taken to petty hooliganry on the streets, looting what they could as they retreated... while others had taken to fervently attacking the police lines. It was utter madness — madness Hurlanni had no intention of being around, if he could help it.

Now this is a shitshow. He thought to himself, rounding another street corner. He could hear screams, shouts, the breaking of glass... the cacophony of chaos behind him became a singular entity, a white noise of madness that drowned out everything else.

The dynamic had changed too, of course. The protesters had been pushing the police back with larger numbers and getting closer to their intended destination, but those numbers meant little in the face of superior organization now. And after the protest had been broken, the police definitely had much better organization. The protesters that were left were forced to pull back, pepper spray balls were being fired supressively, and the police were generally more aggressive, with more than a few protesters finding themselves on the wrong end of batons and tasers as both the riot police and the regular uniformed ones made a charge. It was dangerous for anyone that wasn’t explicitly with the police to be out here.

At first I think one of the brutes in the crowd is about to tackle me... and then he barrels into the man in front of me, yelling something in his foreign language. They crash into a storefront as utter savagery ensues.

Hurlanni kept his pace up, the sight of the hotel soon coming into view. Quite a few tourists were already coming to the natural conclusion of hauling ass, but Hurlanni was doing the opposite... it was time to check in after a day's work.

The headlines on the day after were filled with stories about the riot that had broken out the day before - of course, the slain figures weren’t just student protestors according to the headlines, but terrorists who had been plotting to bomb the Mariner’s Square. The police claimed to have found evidence on their bodies, and while that was unverified, there wasn’t exactly anyone in the opposition in a position to challenge it. The actual cause of death of the protestors, however, was unknown. The word in the street was that it was the work of the mafia, hired by the government to carry out a hit. Few knew the actual truth… it was indeed criminals, but not ones from this country who had completed the deed.

However, that didn’t exempt the mercenaries from getting praise from the few who did know the truth, which happened to be the highest level of government and Army Intelligence. That included both Admiral Grazia Regina Evangelista, who was at the head of the Council of Officers and the one paying their checks, and her guard which was made up of various other loyalists pulled from different branches of the military and certain civilian positions - the guard had been the ones behind sending the eclectic mixed group of soldiers they had spoken to at the airport.

The Admiral resided away from the dangers of Travia itself, at the Albano Castle. A holdout from royalist days in the past, before even the previous government had arisen, the place had now been occupied by the military as one of their central facilities and went by the somewhat less assuming name Fortezza Travia, denoting the fact that it was an official military installation… on paper, at least. The group of mercenaries had been invited here to receive information about their next operation and to receive the thanks of the Admiral herself, and from the outside, it didn’t look like a military building at all. The large white columns and the tiny details that could be spotted all over the building simply made it look like one of the residencies of the rich and famous, which in a way, it was.

The limousine that had been driving them came to a stop after passing through the gates, the driver announcing they had reached their destination after stopping at the front of the circular driveway leading to the main steps. “Reminds me of home…” Kostya muttered under her breath, maybe intending the others to hear it, maybe not, before climbing out.

"Mm.. fancy. Could do with a bit more gold," Hurlanni murmured, following not far behind.

The place was also a bit of a portal to the past, the style becoming more apparently different from the rest of the areas they had been so far, thanks to the early construction of this complex. It did have all the usual trappings of a military headquarters however, with guards that were in more than just ceremonial uniform - it seemed like every man in Avarece had an olive drab uniform - and the current flag of the country flying high in multiple locations, as well as being draped across the main entrance. It was a blast from the past, but at the same time, it wasn’t the kind of place where you could forget where you were.

Not long after entering a luxurious waiting area which had both stairs to the upper level and a long hallway leading further into the building, the group was approached by the same man they had met earlier, Martino. This time, though, the intelligence officer was more in his own habitat, wearing casual clothes rather than a military uniform. His understated nature and style of dress perhaps hid his competency in the role, either intentionally or unintentionally. Sometimes it was better to be unassuming.

“I see you’ve all made it,” Martino said. “If you’ll come this way… the admiral is waiting to see you.”

"I suppose we all start somewhere, hm?" Hurlanni whispered to Kostya. It went without saying, but this was practically the beginning of what one could call... the big leagues.

“It feels strange…” Kostya muttered, staying somewhat close as they moved through the hallways, marble statues visible to the left and the right as well as paintings of figures from long in the past - generals, merchants, and of course, kings. “Could have had surroundings like this if I wanted ‘em… but it would have come with a lotta strings attached, so fuck that.”

If most people said something like that, it would have sounded like simply bragging, or perhaps being ungrateful, but there was a certain sorrow in Kostya’s voice that made it seem more… genuine, like she wouldn’t have felt that way if it wasn’t for being pushed by circumstances.

Hurlanni managed a soft chuckle. "Mm.. I'd much prefer the palaces of home. The servants are a plus too, perhaps.."

“Who knows… maybe this place will have more of all that if we do our job. Current leader seems pretty ambitious,” Kostya stated. Which was true. Maybe it was just because Avarece hadn’t had an ambitious leader in recent memory, but Evangelista seemed to fit the description. It took a lot of ambition to become the head of the junta after being a young admiral in the navy, too - considering the navy wasn’t even the top branch in the military in terms of capability and funding. This country after all, despite pockets of wealth like this fortress, wasn’t rich.

They would pass through another set of doors, coming out in a room that was an… office? It was hard to tell because the ‘office’ was massive and was larger than the living room in most houses, even decently sized ones. The marble floor stood out immediately, but the eye would immediately be caught by the red carpet which led through the middle of the room on top of that floor, leading to a desk which was between two pillars. The person at the desk was recognizable. It was, of course, the junta leader who had hired them… Grazia Regina Evangelista, a name that was respected, scorned, or feared depending on just who you asked and what their place in society was.

“Come in, come in…” she said, rather casual with the mercenaries despite her own higher status above them. “You all deserve praise for your performance… and more jobs and more profit, at that.”

Hurlanni greeted the admiral with a light bow, perhaps the slightest bit culturally distinct from his peers...

Kostya, on the other hand, could have bowed and it would have fit with her culture. But the fact of the matter was, despite the gap in status between them, she was still nobility at the end of the day and she was fairly certain that Evangelista was a commoner. And so, she stood while the only other one to bow was Chan-woo, who had been raised in the very royalist Vojvodea as opposed to Sangju, which carried a tradition of autonomy and an entirely different type of governance.

Evangelista herself wasn’t dressed for the military at the moment, instead wearing something that looked more like it might be seen at a dinner event or something along those lines - a black dress, not quite form fitting but it did show off a bit. Perhaps away from the people, she felt the need to let her hair down every once and a while even as the dictator of the country.

“I’ve… actually already had Army Intelligence prepare your next task,” she said with a chuckle, gesturing to a folder on her desk and looking up at the group. Wasn’t that different from the one that they’d been given earlier. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. It’s not an immediate one. But it has to do with the problem of arms trafficking from Vesperanze. I’m sure you noticed that a small amount of the rioters yesterday were armed. That number is going to rise if no one puts a stop to this illegal trade.”

None of the Vojvodeans stepped forward to take the folder - perhaps out of nervousness at being right in front of the dictator of the nation. Kostya had a high background, sure, but it was more of a shock for the others considering their own statuses and their criminal past.

"Understandable.. whatnot with the civil war festering just across the pond." Hurlanni approached, picking up the folder and taking a cursory glance through the contents within. "Naturally I presume you do not wish your nation to become another Vesperanze..."

“That’s the thing we’re trying to avoid, yes…” Evangelista said, looking up at Hurlanni as he approached, smiling slightly. “But with help like you, I’m sure it won’t be much of a problem, right?”

"Mm.. I suppose it's a good start," Hurlanni agreed, his gaze slowly shifted away from the intelligence files and fresh ink within the avila folder, dark eyes meeting the dictator's.

Her words seemed undeniably flirtatious of course, or perhaps it was the way she had said it, even if it did seem… odd that she was willing to flirt with mercenaries like these that were likely more than a class below her. Then again, she was powerful enough that there wouldn’t exactly be anyone willing to challenge her over something as small as that. “Martino, I believe dinner is happening about now… can you take the others to that? Kostya, Hurlanni, I’d like to… talk to you two a bit more. You were the ones to get the job done yesterday, after all.”

Martino nodded from behind the group, and so Rah and the others turned and followed him through the pair of white double doors, but that still left Kostya and Hurlanni behind, the intentions here not entirely clear.

"That is the case, yes.." Hurlanni smirked. "My round was a few inches short of Zappa's carotid artery, give or take. It still did the job, however... but Kostya here is the reason for our success," Even in his boastfulness, the Maturochi was more than willing to levy most of the credit to Kostya herself... in a way, it was mostly true, after all.

“My hands were shaking, I was just lucky to hit, I guess,” said Kostya, shrugging as she took some steps closer, so she was standing next to Hurlanni now. “Did some moves on the way back that I was proud of, though, with a couple guys after me.”

“Well, you both have one kill a piece as far as I’m concerned,” Evangelista said, standing up. “Walk with me?” she added, turning and moving from the desk, instead opening a door that led to yet another hallway in the large fortress, not far behind the desk itself.

With a silent nod — and a curious glance to Kostya — Hurlanni followed behind the Avarecian dictator, eyes scanning the features of the walls.

They’d continue on deeper into the building, coming out at another room eventually, seemingly… a bathroom, but in the same sense that the office was hardly a office, this bathroom was also massive and hardly fit the regular definition. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the room was actually just a place to host a gigantic hot tub, which had already been prepared - and one that seemingly made Kostya stop and do a double take after seeing it. What the hell is she leading us here for?

“Uhhh…” Kostya muttered, though she didn’t exactly back away as Evangelista stepped through the doorway, followed by the two mercenaries. It was a strange situation, for her anyway.

“There’s no need to be… nervous,” Evangelista said, reaching out and placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder - her own intentions obvious enough at this point, it was just a matter of whether or not Kostya and her partner would go along with it.

Hurlanni, on the other hand, seemed far less hesitant. "..a most fine accomodation, your excellency."

“I just thought I would offer something better than what the Army can provide. You see, they happen to be led by someone that can’t have fun… My government may be harsh, but I know when to relax a bit,” Evangelista stated simply and calmly. She reached back, working on undoing her dress, before she let it drop to the ground a moment later. It left her standing there next to the hot tub leaving very little to the imagination - soon enough, those coverings were gone also. “Shall you two join me?”

Kostya's counterpart needed no incentive to follow suit. Clothing set aside, his tanned and chiseled form would be revealed— and his own gold-laden jewelry, bearing his culture's more highbrow tastes in fashion. He would join the woman in the hot tub, taking a moment to immerse himself in the warmth of the water.

“Fuck it…” muttered Kostya, looking between the two others, a blush spread across her face out of unpreparedness before she quickly shed her own clothes, stepping into the hot tub after Evangelista… not entirely sure what her family back home would think of the current moment, but also knowing that they would likely never find out. And she had come here to live a little… if that wasn’t her goal, she was sure she’d be in the regular military. Taking a chance on an experience like this was worth it in her view, from that perspective.

As she joined them, her form warranted a brief glance from her partner, a subtle smirk upon his features as his gaze turned to the dictator herself. "I presume our presence here as guests is.. quite esteemed, by your excellence." Hurlanni chuckled, the warmth of the water putting him at ease.

“I appreciate talent and I appreciate loyalty, what can I say?” said Evangelista, her eyes locked with Hurlanni before she shifted her attention to the last one into the hot tub, Kostya, who despite her confident demeanor about some things was still a little red in the face in this specific situation. “What do you say… shall we… put your friend at ease?”

To this, the Maturochi mercenary returned the offer with a nod— simple, yet it was all too clear that he knew where things were going. And Kostya herself seemed to nod and accept the path of things, only a few moments before she would find herself tangled up with two bodies, allowing herself to go with the flow and let someone else set the pace for once.

It was… at the least, an interesting experience.

"Most curious," Hurlanni leaned in, his hand elsewhere as his lips met Kostya's, parting only to allow Evangelista a turn. "I don't believe this one is experienced. What do you think, your excellency?" As he posed the question, Kostya felt an inexplicable heat rise within her, as the Maturochi toyed with her.

“I think… that this vixen hasn’t discovered herself yet…” said Evangelista, herself closing in on the speechless Kostya, who was content to let things happen - and couldn’t bring herself to say or do much more as the Admiral’s lips touched her skin.

"I suppose.. we're going to help her with that." As Hurlanni closed in once more, attention half-focused on the admiral, Kostya felt something even sharper than the feeling of the mercenary's hand... and what followed was a blur of hedonistic abandon.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about my uhhh… problem,” muttered Kostya, panting with exhaustion as she finally allowed herself to rest against the edge of the hot tub, unsure of how much time had passed - the events before had blurred together in her mind, though she definitely wasn’t going to forget it.

"I'm good at keeping secrets," Hurlanni chuckled, before resuming what he'd previously been doing — a rather messy kiss with the Avarecian dictator.

It'd all been a blur... and the two mercenaries had discovered each other in more ways than one. It would be some time before Hurlanni pulled away, basking in the afterglow of what'd transpired. "..some first job, hm, Kostya?"

“Uhhh… yeah, in a couple different ways,” Kostya said, managing a chuckle. Sure, it had been overwhelming at a couple points, but she wouldn’t have done things differently… it was going to happen at some point, she was glad she could say it had been under these circumstances and not something more average. Kind of makes up for waiting until I’m 20…

Hurlanni leaned back, resting by the hot tub's edge as he brought an arm around his peer. "As for your next job offer, your excellency, I think we'll be more than happy to oblige..."

“Keep up the good work and I’ll ensure personally that you aren’t bored around here,” Evangelista said with a confident smirk, knowing exactly what she was doing with those words - she was willing to go to great lengths to secure loyalty, though her behavior said that she enjoyed it personally, too. Her words were a little pragmatic, but the look on her face was… genuine.

"Oh, I'm certain we won't be." Grinning, Hurlanni basked in the glory of it all as he rested beside Kostya. This was going to be the beginning of something great...

by **Valefontaine** » Thu Feb 13, 2020 1:07 pm

S1E5
_{GUNDANCER A.E. 251}

A new job forces Gemeka to confront not just her past, but her future.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gundancer A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 3
"The Order"

Auspicious District
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Murmere 1, 251 AE
6:00 PM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

It's a boring day. That's usually a good thing.

This is the six o'clock news, sponsored by: the Navy. Make your country proud!

"..chaos in Vesperanze! Student leaders murdered on the street in broad daylight! Vesperanze refugees join counterprotests for citizenship.."

"..Emperor Demetheriia to review Vesperanze options.."

"..a fine woman indeed. My wife envies her."

"Err.. the question was about what you intend to do regarding the situation in Vesperanze, not RABHAT Naru—"

"We live in confusing times, Abieshu. I believe it is necessary that the grounds of our national security apparatus be extended in the interests of defending the state and its interests, at home and abroad."

"..Channel 7 newsfeed hijacked, footage replaced with brutal torture of Eridanian soldiers... viewers mistake it to be hard-hitting, raw documentary as ratings soar.."

"Guru, prophet, kook... commotion in Terminus as religious leader exposed as fraud.."

"I hate everyone else more than anything. They're stupid, inferior. I'm going to be in charge. Doesn't matter how much of this prophecy snake oil I have to sell to you all, these... 'visions'. I hate every single one of you. All of you scum. I'm a living prophet because I want to fuck with you. Because I want to be. Because I said so. I want to be in control. I want to make you shut up and worship me, get on with your boring lives and serve me quietly. Fucking shitheels. Why am I a prophet? Because I think I should be. Ha-ha. You should see the look on your face. Deer in the goddamn headlights—"

"Vote Musa as Malik of Armannu. He loves you, he loves your wife, and he loves your freedoms! This message sponsored by Musa for the Malikate."

"..by Muxen, Musa is a corrupt dog. He will cum on the constitution as soon as he is elected! Vote Rimush: Honor and integrity at the helm. This message sponsored by Friends of Rimush al-Armannu.."

"Depressed? Rich? Take a vacation offworld!"

"Long live the king? That seems to be the case in San Eliseo, as Vesperanzan troops have occupied the capital of the city-state and ordered its government arrested. Many believe it to be a preemptive action on the part of the Kingdom, fearing it will be used as a basing point by the Maturochi fleet. The small republic seceded from Vesperanze seventy years prior after centuries of religious, linguistic and political differences. President Valter Cortez is believed to be under house arrest, while his daughter has allegedly fled the country..."

"..outbreaks of homicidal parasites on Timorius 'no cause for concern', say experts."

"The flu kills more people per year. This is pure fearmongering by xenophobes and malcontents trying to disrupt society..."

The evening news cycle was its busy usual. Yawning, Gemeka reclined from the comfort of her couch, television screen glowing across her orange tinted glasses.

World's burning, it's an evening like most others. I consider cleaning my rifles for the third time today. Can't go wrong taking precautions.

I take my Amrita tablet for the day. You don't really see many grav-sick people anymore — you had to pay for the pill before Demetheriia's ascendancy to the throne. I still remember the atrophied, aged people practically rotting in the shitty parts of town. I was a kid back then... but I still remember it vividly.

ping.

I access my NooSpace neural interface— it's not a new message... no, better — it's a job offer.

NEW JOB OFFER

ESCORT SERVICES
CLIENT: Anon
RISK: High
PAY: 5000 Kaspu
Details will be given upon meeting. Armannu International Airport. Be there by 9PM.

ACCEPT | REFUSE

Fuck it, why not?

Gemeka didn't wait another moment to accept the offer. Rising to her feet, she was quick to get properly dressed. Slipping on her red coat, she took a brief moment to check her weapons and ammunition stored within.

Pistol: check. Shotgun: check.

Made sure to restock on ammo. A few grenades, for good measure... everything's in order.

Entering the hallway, Gemeka was greeted by the sight of Fritz readily devouring a cigarette pack. It greeted the gundancer with a wry purr, tongue clicking as it watched her pass by. The descent to the first floor was 'decorated' with graffiti upon the walls, spent needles lying about in the corners... maybe when these jobs made the rent more livable, she'd find a better place to live.

---==============---

The alley.

The alley smelled faintly of cheap cigarettes. Gemeka was beginning to suspect it'd become a favorite spot for junkies and horny teens, given the used condoms that had become commonplace. Public Works had cleaned the alley the previous day... and already there were debauched mementos littered about.

Can't say I'm surprised. As I leave the alleyway, I am greeted by the evening chaos. Cars crowd the streets as the sidewalks fill with a mishmash of faces. An Erixanu^[1] boy plays his lyre for coin... the rusty bucket is half-full with donations. I see some tech-hoarders, more machine than man, ogle the NooSpace implant at the back of my neck. The streets of the Auspicious District are a confluence of sounds, smells, sights and cultures.

The Metropolitan Police have made another bust. Uktannu Theatre was being used to peddle Nasaqu under the table — I see the brothers who own the place are getting pummeled into the wall, police batons dripping with blood. I walk past the scene, paying no mind to it.

My motorcycle is parked not far from the scene. The parking meter's been destroyed by vandals... naturally it is a good spot. A policewoman notices me as I climb aboard, stopping me in my tracks. She clearly hasn't been around these parts before. Has 'new' written across her face, naive innocence in her eyes.

---==============---

The usual bustle.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to question whether you destroyed this parking meter."

"I parked here because it's been destroyed. It's a problem for Public Works to deal with, not me or you."

"..I'm going to need you to submit to a search."

"I am an armed agent of the Agency of Order," Gemeka flatly replied, revealing her cylindrical ID. "..but I'd gladly let you strip search me at my apartment tonight."

The cop gets a little flustered over that. I have to hold back a chuckle.

"A—as you were, ma'am."

She leaves, and I begin my way through traffic. The air is cloyed with the scent of gasoline, heat condensing from exhaust pipes as I make my way through the Auspicious District. The Providence District is adjacent, little more than malls, high-class developments and resort hotels catered to foreign tourists.

Advertisements here are catered to foreigners: signs are in Neo-Euphemian and Sinican to appeal to foreign tourists. So, too, are the products — high-end fashion shops flank my drive through the Providence District.

Shopping malls, ziggurats and skyscrapers were crowded with tourist and wealthy elite alike. It was all but mere background noise as Gemeka slowed her motorcycle, finding a stop by Ligish Street Station. Ligish Street was a hub for the high-end, a centre for the city's exotic fashion scene...

I can spot a Euphemian, a Sinican and a Vojvodean in under a minute. Theatres line Ligish Street, fashion hitting strange, bizarre extremes at almost every corner. The neon glimmers against my glasses as I make my way down the sidewalk, curious Sinican tourists photographing the urban scenery with childlike awe. Slipping into the station, I pass the turnstiles as I put my ID through the scanner.

M Line leads right to the airport. The train is crowded, most quietly keeping to themselves as the feminine voice on the intercom cautions passengers to report stolen items. The train rocks and rattles here and there as it pushes on with impressive speed, distant flickers of light amid the endless catacombs of this city's underground.

Surely there lurk stories of terror and forgotten expanse, vast and eerie, beneath the Capital. Beyond the windows is a great infrastructural unknown, a chthonic legacy of the Capital's ever-expanding infrastructure. It is something I choose not to ponder too deeply as the train nears the station.

Once again, the abyss is replaced with light as the train pulls into the station. It occurs to me my client hasn't specified where in the airport they intend to meet. I follow my gut and begin up the escalator to the main lobby. I am greeted by the usual mishmash of shops, shoppers and front desk arrangement for airliners and car rentals.

By the automated doors, someone is waiting. They look at me — and at first I am uncertain. They send a ping, confirming themselves to me... to which I calmly approach.

"You are my.. Gundancer?" The voice was that of an adolescent girl's, the figure pulling back a hood to reveal light skin and blonde hair. The face was a familiar one, however... one that brought Gemeka to momentarily freeze in confusion.

---==============---

A curious foreign face...

"..yes. You... I've seen you on the news—"

Gemeka's reply would be interrupted by the girl. "Valora Cortez. Daughter of the President of San Eliseo, Valter Cortez... I've hired your services for a simple purpose: you are to drive and escort me to my destination. You're good at your job, right? You know, I've seen a whole lot about you people on TV... lots of movies! Anyway... so, how are we doing this?"

Gemeka would reply after a brief, hesitant pause. "..first I get a rental car.."

It was going to be a long night.

Departing from the airport, Gemeka kept her client within eyeshot of the sedan's rear view mirror. "I presume your presence has something to do with the situation in San Eliseo. Where am I taking you?"

"To the Hotel Arshaka," Valora explained from the back-seat. "I'm due to meet with officials affiliated with the government-in-exile."

I'm not one to question too much into the affairs of my clients. With a free hand, I turn on the radio. Music fills the cabin. Just my kind of song... I've gotten us out of the airport and into the first few faux palm tree-ridden promenade of resort hotels when my client speaks up.

"You don't talk much..." complained the teenager.

"I don't believe it's part of my job." replied Gemeka. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing!" Valora nervously reassured. "..uh.. sorry."

It's going to be a long night.

---==============---

Providence District bustle.

The glow of the Hotel Arshaka's oversized sign was enough of a landmark to draw Gemeka in, black sedan coming to a halt before the entrance. Fountains flanked the automatic glass doors, nude marble statues illuminated by submerged lamps.

I negotiate with one of the well-dressed men at the front — thank Muxen they have valet parking here. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised... top-notch quality is standard in the Providence District. Standing behind Valora, I keep a watchful eye on her as we begin towards the entrance.

"I'm meeting with the Minister of Defence," Valora elaborated. "He was among the few people that managed to flee the country. He's got connections, knows the right people that'll help free my homeland."

Gemeka flatly nodded. "Fair enough."

Slipping into the hotel lobby, Gemeka could see why the hotel elicited such high-class guests: it was luxury defined. Chandeliers of solid gold loomed above, the air tinged with exotic perfume. Gemeka's client led the way, the Gundancer remaining watchful over the Elisean girl as they ascended the grand staircase to the second floor.

I hear the distant echo of v-disco beats, somewhere pertaining to another floor... I keep my guard up as Valora continues through the corridors of excess, brass-framed paintings decorating the red walls. The conference room isn't far, ornate doors of Vestan nightwood greeting us in.

Within, a suited man sits at the opposite end of the table. At his side are two well-dressed, armed guards. A faint smoke rises from the Maturochi cigar between his fingers, giving the room a faint tobacco scent. Real tobacco, too — a scarcity on Vesta.

"I presume this is your security detail," the Minister of Defence began. "Worry not. We are in good company."

"..ah, thank heavens you're alright.." Valora took no time in seating herself. "What's the situation on the homefront?"

The Minister chuckled. "Hell. But I've already worked to establish contact with remaining military cells in the country. The Vesperanzans are trying to establish a 'provincial government' loyal to the King... they've gathered a few collaborators, and that means we have a kill list."

"Is my father alright?" The girl questioned.

I eye the guards with a careful suspicion. One of them flinches, glance deviating to the other. My hand carefully finds my sawed-off BA-29, and I keep it there. Street smarts are akin to a sixth sense, and while I might not be a star-child freak ESPer, I've got a nose for BS.

"Under house arrest. No word on who they've appointed as provincial governor yet." Sighing, the Minister shook his head. "I suppose that's to be decided in the coming days—"

I tackle Valora, pushing her to cover as the guards open fire. The Minister is first to be cut down by the hail of gunfire, and my next reaction is pure instinct. Firing my shotgun, I reduce one of them to blood and viscera on the wall. With another quick shot, I paint the conference room wall with grey matter.

"W—what the hell?" Valora looked on in shock for a moment, Gemeka turning to her in the wake of the massacre. "T—the fucking IR!"

"The what?"

"Inteligencia Real," Valora elaborated, hastily getting up. "The Kingdom of Vesperanze's eyes and ears abroad. They must've infiltrated his security detail somehow..—"

I hear gunshots downstairs, followed by screams. It's going to be a real long fucking night.

"Stick with me and you'll live." Gemeka commanded, kicking the door open. The sound of footsteps loomed near, the Gundancer carefully leading the way with shotgun at the ready.

Rounding a corner, we're greeted by a fireteam... and I'm lucky to fire first. The shot sends the first guy flying backwards, intestines spilling forth as he crashes through the wallpaper and insulation. His blood blends pretty well with the red walls... another shot riddles another man with buckshot, and I tackle Valora as I roll over, bullet spray punching holes and busting lights all along the corridor. From my position on the carpet floor, I put another shot in a spook, leaving one. As he turns around, I knock him off his feet, drawing my patru and finishing him off. His gurgles are mere background noise as gunfire continues in the lobby. Something's off, however — it has the distinct flavor of a firefight, rather than an outright massacre... and I don't recall the hotel's security detail being armed to the teeth.

"Where do you think we're going? There's a war going on downstairs!" Valora asked, trembling at the sight of the slaughter that Gemeka had wrought upon the Vesperanzan intelligence agents.

"That's precisely why we're going downstairs. It's a war — between the people who want to kill you, and some other people... who probably also want to kill you. It'll be total chaos... makes the escape easier." Returning to her feet, Gemeka helped her client back up before continuing through the corridors.

I'm looking for the stairs — not the grand staircase, but any other way down to the ground floor... and I find it eventually. The dancefloor still glows with light, music playing for nobody in particular as masked men hurry across the ballroom — reinforcements to the fight, perhaps. Holstering my shotgun, I draw my sidearm— but I'm wise to hold back. It doesn't take long for them to vanish from view, hurrying on to the lobby.

"That's why you don't shoot too early," Gemeka noted, her voice a whisper amidst the chaos. "Patience can be key."

Across the empty dancehall I see shattered windows... they crashed the party on the way in. I scan the periphery before I lead the way out, Valora in tow.

The courtyard was a boulevard of death, dead mercenaries and shell casings scattered about the wide space. Gemeka took a moment to check their corners, before nodding to her client. "Just a sec, Valora."

"Hm?" Valora stood beside Gemeka, wary as she looked to the corpses littered about. "What's the matter?"

I kneel down, studying the bodies. Eridanian firearms, fair skin... an ID discloses a particular 'Sturgall Bellicose Solutions'. It's no surprise Valora doesn't seem to recognize them... but I do. They do Bluebook's dirty work here in the capital. A subsidiary of a subsidiary — their connections to the billionaire are veiled by multilayered legalese. Their presence here is a curious matter, given what I already know.

"No matter. Let's move."

"..to where?" Valora's question gave Gemeka brief pause.

I think for a moment — I know a few connections, a few old friends... I quickly decide where we'll be going.

Gemeka finally spoke up. "I know a safe place in the industrial district. Let's get moving."

The rental sedan's a bit dustier than when I first got it. We're in the Industrial District, the heart of production in the Capital. A smoggy haze seems to hang over this place, a faint orange tint to the rows of factories and manufactories that comprise the bustling district.

"..can you tell me more about this safe place?" Valora questioned.

---==============---

The industrial district's air smells of progress.

"An old friend of mine... he's with the workers' unions." replied Gemeka, eyes scanning the streets as they continued on.

"Well, if you trust him..." Valora trailed off, shrugging.

She's chewing bubblegum and staring out the window. Thirty minutes ago she witnessed a massacre... she's a strong girl, I'll give her that much. I pull to a stop outside a dingy tenement, streetlamp flickering above as I step out. Every now and then the ground rattles as trains ferrying supplies in bulk screech past along overhead rail lines.

I lead Valora to the front door. I knock twice... there's a light on the second floor. I hear footsteps within.

The door opened, a middle-aged man greeting them. He was tall, lanky, a receding hairline and a face marred by the wears of aging. His hands were rough — no less to be expected of a blue collar man. "..ah, Gemeka. It's been awhile."

"I've come to call in a favor, Sunassura." Gemeka explained, Valora peering from behind her.

"I suppose I owe you one, for whatcha did for me back then..." He trailed off. "Come on in."

I walk in, make myself comfortable on the living room couch as Valora sits beside me. Sunassura makes himself comfortable on the recliner, lighting a cigarette. He takes a draw, a puff briefly filling the air as he exhales.

"..so, what brings you to ol' Sunassura at this hour? Who's the girl?"

Gemeka crossed her arms. "She's on the run. Foreign spooks and corporate mercs are after her... did I tell you she's the daughter of the Elisean President?"

The man paused, before sighing. "..you're crazy as ever, Gemeka. Let me guess: you're lookin' for a place to stay the night?"

"Not necessarily the night," replied Gemeka. "Just need to lose some heat and assess the situation. Nobody's on our tail at the moment.."

"At the moment.." Sunassura chuckled. "Either way, I wouldn't mind fightin' some corporate goons. It's kinda what I do for a living!" He joked.

Valora seems drawn to the propaganda posters to the wall.

"..are you.. a Communist?" questioned Valora.

"Of course that's the first thing she asks," Sunassura rolled his eyes. "I've got a guest bedroom that hasn't seen use in awhile... you two can make yourselves comfortable there. I'll be watching TV... the big match is tonight. Kidar the Unbreakable against Tazkul the Two-Punch Terror... you're welcome to watch."

Gemeka scoffed. "Boxing's boring. I beat people up every other week. We'll be upstairs."

I escort Valora to the second floor, up the narrow steps. Guest bedroom is dusty, desolate... I flip a switch and the light comes to life, bulb flickering every now and then. Sitting at the bedside, I start up the radiator, heat the room up a bit. It's a pleasant quiet as I stand beside the warmth of the radiator with Valora beside me.

"Hey, uh, Gemeka..?" Valora questioned, skittishly looking about.

"Hm?" The Gundancer glanced over to her client, curiously raising a brow.

"..I, uh, suppose I should tell you more about this job. And myself, and San Eliseo."

What's this about..?

"Go on." Gemeka couldn't help but be a little curious about what her client's confession was about.

"There's, well... a lot more to San Eliseo than you think," Valora explained. "Pulling the strings behind it all, the Order of Vesta controls almost every aspect of government. My father is a part of it. It operates out of the public eye... a lot of measures are taken to stay secretive."

Valora remained awkwardly quiet for another moment, before continuing. "..anyways, they believe in a prophecy. Central to the Order is a powerful ESPer, the Dawnseer... she is something like a prophet."

The evening news comes to mind.

"Go on.." Gemeka muttered.

"They used to make us recite it by memory, you know." Valora continued. "Far away, a black knight is slaughtered, shining armor torn asunder... a false saint broken and defiled. They have toyed with the natural order of things, precipitating their own torturous demise. A great wound reveals itself..."

Deja vu's hitting me, and I don't know why. Something sounds eerily familiar.

"My body has been augmented with a datakey storage unit," Valora explained. "It contains the genetic data of multiple bioweapons San Eliseo has been working towards... weapons of unprecedented destructive capacity, engineered by my country's greatest minds. This.. 'great wound' the Dawnseer predicts, is a plague to vanquish the Vesperanzans. They made me the key to their prophecy, a backup to a government-in-exile... and that is exactly what I am to them now."

Tears well up in her eyes — I'm a little moved, too.

Valora reached for her wallet, revealing thousands' worth of notes in newly-converted Kaspu. "I'll pay you your job's worth and more... if you just kill me."

What the fuck.

Gemeka stood silent for a moment, mouth agape before she finally formed words. "No... no. I refuse."

"..b—but.."

"You're too young for this," Gemeka moralized. "All of this! You still have a future, something to achieve— the last thing I'd do is cut that short. It doesn't matter if you're my client, if you're ordering me to— my answer is no." There were things that not even Gemeka would do, and killing an innocent teenager was among them. Gemeka brought a hand to the teenager's shoulder, meeting Valora's eyes. "I'm going to get you out of this— or rather— I'm going to get this out of you."

To this, Valora reacted almost immediately with confusion. "..what? You... care about me?"

"I'm a hired gun, not a sociopath." replied Gemeka. "I know a lot of people. I can get that augment out of you... and then I'll get you someplace safe. But first,"

I get up, run a quick check on my weapons. I reload my shotgun, make sure everything's in order.

"You ever fire a gun, Valora?"

"N—no.."

"Just making sure. Stick with me, and you'll be fine."

I am either about to do something incredibly smart... or incredibly stupid.

The Auspicious District welcomes us once more. I know a surgeon, runs a discreet operation. Mostly removes lodged bullets and police trackers... usually at an inflated price, but today I intend to pull a few strings. The hard way.

"You call this place home?" Valora questioned.

"I've known these streets since I was a little girl," replied Gemeka, looking about. The city never truly slept in the Auspicious District, bystanders walking about as lamps hung above, illuminating the crowded street. "Might not be much to you, but.. it's my world."

My eyes scan the crowd as we continue on. Someone looks our way amidst the faces, and my hand instinctively grips my holstered sidearm. With a careful hand I bring Valora to a stop, and my suspicions are confirmed. Five men, more machine than flesh, stand in our way, armed.

"There's a good price on the girl," One of the wireheads said.

"There's a good price on scrap metal," Gemeka quipped.

In a flash, my gun is drawn — I put a round in one's skull before drawing my patru and charging the next. The confusion serves as cover, my blade decapitating the other wirehead. The headless cyborg's body acts as a bullet sponge, before I drop it and open fire. Another down. As the bullets fly I leap, clutching one of the overhead lamps momentarily before dropping down, impaling another wirehead on my patru. The last one tries to make a run for it — I shoot the power pack augment on his back and he bursts into a mess of smoke and flames. Some bystanders run, others find my display amusing. I tug at Valora's sleeve and urge her to get moving... and we do.

It wouldn't be long before Gemeka and her client stood before the entrance to the doctor's office... if it could be called that. It was between an electronics shop and a run-down cabaret... Valora's disgust at the sight was tangible. Gemeka didn't give her much time to look, however, pulling her by the wrist as they hurried in through the front door.

The front desk was vacant at this hour, naturally... a fluorescent bulb flickered, winged scions loitering below the dim glow. These creatures were a nuisance, and their crawl was an unpleasant feeling... naturally, Valora's grip on Gemeka's sleeve tightened.

"DOCTOR LAWU!" Gemeka yelled, reaching for her shotgun. Firing once into the ceiling, it was quick enough to flush the man out, eyes agape in shock.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing here, Gemeka? The last time you—"

"One thousand Kaspu for your troubles!" Gemeka replied.

I briefly fetch Valora's wallet and toss the man ten hundred-Kaspu bills. He still isn't pleased, though... probably because I have him at gunpoint.

"..just get to the point already.." Doctor Lawu sulked, sighing at the situation he'd found himself in.

"I need a surgery done, Doc."

"Dr. Armaziti's much better at fake tits." Lawu joked.

Gemeka spat. "Fuck you. This girl here's got a datakey cache inside her, and she needs it out. It's a... pertinent matter."

"Explain."

"No."

"I'm not going to question what kind of augment—"

"Imagine someone uses your daughter as a mule to carry data on bioweapons... and people really want that data. You'd get it out of her, wouldn't you?" Gemeka aimed at the doctor, as if to further state the importance of the matter.

He seems pensive for a moment, before finally sighing in resination. Everyone's got a soul.

"Fine. Fucking fine! I'm not gonna question it, but... don't shoot the fucking ceiling next time!"

"Go with him," Gemeka instructed.

I follow her in, and she hesitantly complies to the doctor's instructions and lays on the table. The surgery room is far from world-class, but I've seen miracles happen here. They'll happen again tonight. It doesn't take long for Doctor Lawu to put her under anesthetics as I carefully watch.

"How quick can you pull this off?" questioned Gemeka, shotgun still in hand.

"I'm going to need time." replied Lawu. The sound of a bang at the front entrance spoke for itself, however, the sound of footsteps flooding into the front office...

"You don't have much of it. Get to work — I'll put on a show."

"..Muxen give me patience.." Lawu murmured.

Looks like the IR's here, judging by the orders being barked about in Vesperanzan. With a volley of buckshot I announce my presence, reducing two of them to bloodied corpses as I find cover. Before they return fire, I lunge... seconds feel like minutes as I concentrate. Two well placed shots — two more bodies. My boot meets the shitheel's jaw, and he recoils before I crush his throat with a well-placed punch.

---==============---

There's no soul behind that mask.

Everything goes to shit. I hear shots in the street — maybe Bluebook's boys have joined in, too. By the time another team bursts through the front door, hick monkeys yelling in their Eridanian drawl, my shotgun's loaded and ready. One shot sends first asshole staggering back, blood clogging his gas mask as he collapses. I count the half-seconds as I roll over, finding cover behind the front desk. Five of them — I've got enough time to give them names. Larry, Hoss, Rick, Shitlicker and Silverback. Silverback. Catchy name. He's a brute, dwarfing his teammates and tops my 7'3" by at least five inches. What a scary bastard... probably gut full of steroids with a dick smaller than my pinky.

Larry charges me first. I shoot the pipe above before his bayonet can scathe me, sending a stream of heated gas down... as I roll out of the way, I see its effect on the skin: an instant scalding that sends the bastard recoiling back in agony, hand clutching his face. Bang — his body flies across the front office, crashing into the rows of chairs in an act of macabre comedy.

Gun kata is all about knowing when and where the enemy intends to shoot, and utilizing Qi to the best of your abilities. That is exactly what I do as I pounce from cover. The seconds lull to a slow-motion catastrophe, with my sawed-off in one hand and patru in the other. I empty some buckshot into Shitlicker as my sword decorates the ceiling with Rick's arterial vitae.

"YOU FUCKED WITH THE WRONG MERC, BITCH!" Silverback yelled, charging Gemeka.

I see I've pissed off the big guy. Rolling out of the way, I empty buckshot into Hoss as he uselessly tumbles into the front desk, face-first as his gutted back opens, a macabre flower blossoming as blood decorates the tile flooring.

It all unfolds in a matter of seconds. By the time Silverback's turned around, I'm ready to face him. He pounces as I empty a round into his chest.

To my surprise, he shrugs it off. I feel the wall hit me faster than a freight train, pushing the air out of me as Silverback pins me down. In his steroid-driven fury I can already tell what his hands intend to do.

"YOU FUCKING BIT—"

His injuries kick in, blood erupting from his chest as his circulatory system collapses under its own weight. The bullet wounds I inflicted spray forth streams of blood. It is a release no doubt a far more spectacular than anything his steroid micro-dick is capable of. He collapses before me. I am unsure whether or not he is in shock as he gurgles on his own blood, but I don't intend to put the beast out of his misery. Picking up my shotgun, I ready for the next round of footsteps coming as I load more shells in.

They show themselves soon enough — I concede some ground as I hold the line by the door to the surgery room. I end Pedro and Steinhauser's lives quickly enough — I gave the IR spooks nicknames after reducing their forms to incoherent viscera — before throwing a grenade down the hall. It finds its target as a fireteam rounds a corner, and in another moment IR spooks litter the halls, an agonized mess.

"HOW MUCH LONGER?" Gemeka called to the doctor within.

"I— JUST KEEP DOING WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

Sighing, Gemeka returned her attention to the hall ahead.

I hear more coming. I don't know if they're Vesperanzan or corporate types. I just know that by the time they round the corner, everything is reduced to a blur of mincemeat. Sometimes the bodies writhe, but I know they'll bleed out soon enough.

The shots outside are dying down — I am greeted by the ultimate survivor. He seems undeterred by his injuries in his stim-driven fury, hands bloodied as he clutches a combat knife. He's lightskinned — definitely Eridanian.

He calls me a 'gotdamm cocksucker' before he lunges. One shot reduces his legs to stringy flesh. Still, he struggles, in the midst of his stim-driven fury... he foams at the mouth as he tries to crawl to me, and I finish him by driving my blade into his back.

"Never EVER come here again, Gemeka! Do you understand me?!" Doctor Lawu emerged from the room, dazed Valora beside him. Tossing the datakey cache to Gemeka, he mumbled an incoherent string of curses as he stormed back into the surgery room, no doubt shocked by the bloodbath that'd become of his office.

Rather than cache the datakey cache, Gemeka followed natural instinct — and reduced it to scrap with a shotgun blast. Excessive, perhaps... but she wanted to be sure nobody would attempt to piece it together again.

I take what pieces can even be described as recognizable. Just in case. Valora's still awestricken... I look back to her.

"You did.. all this for me." Valora muttered, baffled. Staggering towards Gemeka, her first act was obvious— to hand the Gundancer 4,000 Kaspu for her troubles. It was less than the advertised pay... but the 1,000 had been worth it. "It's the least you deserve."

"My job's not done." Gemeka replied, tucking the notes into her own wallet. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe, Valora. I might not know you, and you might not know me... but make the best out of this chance I've given you."

We're standing before the Zhu Dynasty's embassy in the Capital. It's better safety than any other place this city can offer.

Gemeka stood solemn before the gates, looking to the building. "Well... my job ends here. Present your papers and they'll take you in. Remember: you're carrying the future of your home. So long as you live, the hope of a free San Eliseo will exist... what you do with this power is up to you."

"..will I see you again?" Valora questioned.

"I'm afraid not. A Gundancer can never get too attached.. I did a lot of unorthodox things to get you here. Just.. live life to the fullest, alright? Don't end up like me, kid."

Valora paused momentarily, before managing a hesitant nod. "..right!"

I embrace the young girl momentarily before we part ways. She presents her papers to security and declares herself an asylum seeker, and I sigh with relief. My work is done.

The apartment felt different ever since Gemeka had returned. Not because of any innate change — but because Gemeka herself had felt change within her spirit. The television glowed before her, the early morning news playing out as she'd expected.

Good morning, Maturoch! This is your five o'clock news, sponsored by: Maturochi Atomics. Your future is our responsibility!

"Absolute slaughter in the Auspicious district! What was originally thought to be a gang scuffle is quickly revealed to be a flashpoint between private mercenaries and Vesperanzan intelligence agents. Metropolitan Police have stated they will track down foreign clandestine intelligence cells in the Capital."

"Terror at the Hotel Arshaka! Vesperanzan spies and mercs raise a bloodbath of unparalleled proportion... but to what end?"

"..Isitu's Malikate frontrunner airs opposition leader's sex tape as campaign ad.."

"Avarece admiral draws scandalous rumors..."

"..neuroscientist 'cannot stop ejaculating' after horrific failed experiment.."

What does it all mean? Was sacrificing a bit of profit.. really worth it in the end? Was it the right thing to do?

Many questions hung over Gemeka as she sat idly watching the television, the aftermath of the night hanging over her. She herself could hardly believe it, either... and yet it was all so incredibly real.

She'd saved a life— a child's life— and given her a second chance, overriding her usual directives. The right thing? She wasn't sure whether it was... but she felt moved. Changed, even.

Is there good in me? Good in this city, even..?

Maybe.. hope?

We've garnered some recognition for our feats. The Department is proud... word of a promotion lingers in the air. Amarsin is about as satisfied as I am.

Like wild dogs scrambling for a loose piece of meat, me and my coworker are already attending to a new matter... the small nation of San Eliseo's been occupied by Vesperanze. Word is, troops still fill the streets as martial law curfews remain in effect. How pleasant.

"New acquisitions job!" Amarsin enthusiastically announced, entering Sin-Nasir's office through the still bullet-ridden, busted door. Her presence was enough to bring the diplomat to perk up, rising from his chair.

"Hm?"

Naturally, Amarsin quickly got to the point. "We're going to be working with some Elisean exiles. Scientists and activists, mostly... and from it we're going to build a resistance movement."

Sin-Nasir adjusted his glasses, twirling a pencil between his fingers. "Oh..? Curious. Go on."

"A meeting's been arranged for us at the New Port District. We'll be meeting some figures of relevance." Amarsin replied. "It's our chance to make it big! I mean, you've heard the rumors.. right?"

"Which ones?" Sin-Nasir questioned, smirking.

To this, Amarsin grew mildly flustered. "...the ones about us getting a promotion."

"Let's find out if it's true, then." Sin-Nasir shrugged. "I suppose I'll drive."

New Port District is busy as ever... but perhaps it always was. Within the dimly-lit warehouse, a table's been prepared. Opposite me and Amarsin are a group of six men of varying backgrounds. They eye one another with suspicion, cigarette smoke visible under the overhead lamp...

"How are we going to liberate the homeland when Vesperanzan troops march through our streets? When our government now sits under the pressure of a foreign boot? Maturoch is not going to commit troops to fighting Vesperanze — isn't that right, Mr. Sin-Nasir?" One of the men questioned, glancing over to Sin-Nasir for confirmation.

André Gutiérrez. Former Minister of Human Services. From the few minutes I've had the displeasure of being his acquaintance, I've come to realize he is a coward that fears big numbers. Maybe they confuse him. Maybe baby need math lesson. Goo goo ga gaa.

"You spineless coward!" yelled another man. "We have the men, our people staunchly oppose the occupation... we can put up a fight!"

Minister of Energy, Aureliano Lugocci. He's got more spine than Gutiérrez, I'll give him that. Me and him seem to be on the same page, generally speaking... I quite like him.

"That is precisely what I brought all of you here for, yes," Sin-Nasir concurred. His soft-spoken tone had an uncanny ability to bring the other gruff men to silence, a commanding aura about him as he sat opposite the Eliseans. "I'll allow my partner, Amarsin, to explain."

"Networking," Amarsin elaborated. "You have contacts — you know the right people. And our department has no shortage of resources that can be given to resistance forces... in essence, we propose a mutually-beneficial relationship. The liberation of your home, the furthering of our interests. We can work together here... we just need to know names and data."

"I can have my contacts mailed to your Department overnight!" Lugocci exclaimed.

I like this guy. He's not a coward, and he's helpful... I take mental note of Aureliano. I believe he'll be useful to us as time goes on.

"I..I'm not sure I can give my contacts.. national security, you know.."

Vice Minister of Intelligence, Ramiro Perez. His superior's probably indefinitely detained back in San Eliseo... a shame. I'm stuck with this stuttering coward instead.

"You probably work with the Vesperanzans, you traitorous fool!" Another man yelled.

Director of Labour Unions, Lucas Pirozzi.

"Who's calling who a traitor, Communist parasite?!"

"Silence!" Sin-Nasir ordered. "We'll need what we can to help build the backbone of a resistance movement in San Eliseo. Me and Amarsin need to... speak." Getting up, Sin-Nasir led his subordinate into the dark, the table almost immediately devolving into argument once more as he eyed her.

"They're quite politically divided... I doubt this will spell good news once they actually succeed at their goals." Amarsin noted.

"Indeed," Sin-Nasir lamented. "But I have a plan to bring them closer together... but it will take some.. dirty work."

"Hm?"

"Gutiérrez and Perez must go. They are a detriment to morale." Sin-Nasir whispered, matter-of-factly. "I like Lugocci. Perez, too. We're going to pull a few strings, Amarsin. And they'll think the Vesperanzans are on their trail. By the end, we'll have a united front that'll loyally feed us info."

Amarsin seemed hesitant — but was quick to come to terms with the idea. "Mm... I can get behind that."

Emerging from the darkness with Amarsin in tow, Sin-Nasir called to the group, as if nothing had happened... "Gentlemen! Mail what intel and contacts you can muster to my office. We'll be meeting again in two weeks... same time, same place."

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Erixanu - The Erixanu are the cultivators of Maturoch's fertile plains, terraced mountain-farms and maintainers of society's lower echelons. Living simple lives, the Erixanu place heavy emphasis on tradition, honest work, and living with respect to nature. As such, they have mastered Vesta's native xenobiology, and are cultivators of both Tsionic and Vestan fruit. In cities they typically commit to the more basic tasks of society. It is considered a high honor to serve a Lamassu or a Tupxarru.

by **Forest State** » Fri Feb 14, 2020 12:52 pm

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 3
_{YOUR PROBLEM, MY PROBLEM, OUR PROBLEM}

While Vojvodean forces gather in Guzan for a more forceful operation against the Shafadi tribe of Amiriyya, the Eagle Knights of Task Force 17 have been assigned with a task aimed at controlling the local population - Bahrizadi tribal militia fighter Minu Shazan, who has went from nationally known icon to hunted figure ever since the role reversal within the country’s political landscape.

Salkah, Tribes of Amiriyya
January 20th, 480 AC

Salkah was the main port city in Amiriyya - and a city that was a battleground at the moment, already having been struck by the Vojvodean air group that had shown up off the coast of the country and hadn’t left since the Shafadi takeover had become official. Parisa Sorouri of the Shafadi Popular Front was not just the leader of a militia now, but the head of the entire country as the chieftess… Totally throwing off the normal order of things by removing Farak Alnazad, the Bahrizadi Prime Minister of the country, from power. While the parliament had received accusations of being Bahrizadi dominated, it had at least kept things balanced…

Now, there was nothing but all out warfare. Not just against the foreigners that the SPF claimed were plundering their resources and keeping their people down, but against each other, Shafadi and Bahrizadi fightign in the streets along tribal lines. The apocalyptic scenes witnessed in Javan by the Eagles Brigade weren’t exclusive to just Javan. Most of the major cities in fact were split tribally, and now, those conflicts were becoming very publicly apparent as cities such as Salkah found themselves broken in half with some just trapped in the middle.

The backdrop of this, at least, made it easier for the Vojvodean forces to operate when they had to enter the country. They knew that the Shafadi were the enemy, but the Shafadi couldn't focus a hundred percent on them when they had to worry about their neighbors, coworkers, and fellow churchgoers who happened to be from the other tribe… Even soldiers had to worry about other soldiers, as the fabric of the country unraveled and was being rewritten thanks to the actions of one militia and their leader who had disrupted the balance due to perceived oppression… Or perhaps pragmatism, or some mix of both.

Regardless of the reasons, the situation was here to stay.

“So far, so good is all I can say… Feels like something is going to pop off eventually, but right now, the only strange thing about the place is the broken windows and the fact that it’s uhh… A ghost town, kinda,” Nina Chernova said, speaking into a phone as she sat with the others in the back of the MRAP that was speeding through the streets, another one directly in front of her team’s own, moving in escort. She wasn’t talking to someone else from the military, but rather making a call back home during a moment of peace. Even if that moment probably wouldn’t last all that long. “Salkah’s nicer than Javan, that’s for sure.”

“Stay safe out there, eh?” her mother said from the other end of the line, drawing a simple nod. “Everything is going well… Until it isn’t. Be ready for when things change.”

“And I thought Dad was the military expert,” Nina muttered with a slight chuckle. “I’ll keep my head up. Got too many stories for back home to get plinked by some insurgent from a rooftop.”

“I’m sure you do… Have fun with it when you can, too. You earned it.”

The call ended on that note, to the sound of snickers from the others in the back of the MRAP. Or some of them, anyway, namely the ever fiery Yaroslava for one, who wouldn’t be caught dead talking to her own mother in the field like Nina had just been. “Didn’t take you for a momma’s girl, commander,” she said with a bit of a smug tone in her voice, as per usual.

“What? Probably just wish you were as close to your family,” Nina said with a mild roll of the eyes. They were somewhat used to the back and forth by now. They worked well enough as a team regardless of how much of it there was.

“My mother is a crack whore, Nina,” Yaroslava said rather casually considering the subject matter, flashing a wide grin - probably because if these were the circumstances she had grown up in, it meant that… She was legitimate when talking about her skills at surviving. She often talked about the culture of the country and the emphasis that was placed on survival, strength, and toughness and the like. But Nina hadn’t known just how much or how little Yaroslava had lived it herself. She was now able to get a bit of a clearer picture. “Having your family would be nice - I mean, you’re like a literal goddamn princess - but I wouldn’t be who I am.”

“Well, damn,” Nina just said in reply, withdrawing slightly from the verbal sparring that happened between the two of them often enough, most of the time in good nature though to the average outsider it could sometimes be hard to tell… Unsure if she had hit a sensitive spot in the conversation. “Guess I sound like an asshole now, huh.”

“You are what you hang out with,” Yaroslava fired back, not having taken offense apparently, as the MRAP continued speeding through the streets of Salkah.

“You calling us assholes or calling yourself one?” Galina asked in protest with her own roll of the eyes at Yaroslava’s banter, while the vehicle finally slowed down, coming to a stop near the side of the road on a street which might as well have been in the middle of a ghost town.

“Take your pick,” Yaroslava said, as Nina gestured for the team to disembark.

“Alright, Eagle Knights, move out on me…” she ordered, pushing the door open and hopping out before lowering herself close to the ground, aiming to avoid becoming an easy target for a Shafadi sniper if there was one in the area. Around here, it was impossible to be too careful. Yaroslava was the second one out, followed by Margarita, and then the others… So far, no signs of snipers, and no signs of any other life around the place either - other than a street cat running by, slightly spooky Nastja as she raised her rifle before realizing the moving shape in the distance wasn’t human.

“So,” Margarita started, standing up to her full height with the others now that they were sure there was no sniper. “Target is somewhere around here, but where exactly?”

“Supposedly, the now abandoned warehouse further down the street…”

“Big structure.”

“I don’t like it any more than you guys, but come on,” Nina said, starting to lead the way and letting the others fall into line behind her. They could complain from time to etime, but when they saw their leader taking the lead, they couldn’t help but to do the same thing and follow behind. She was at least willing to put herself in the same danger she asked of them, which seemed to resonate with them.

“Too fucking quiet…” muttered Galina, looking from the right to the left and checking the rooftops once again, with the eyes of a markswoman who was looking to see where she herself would set up if she was in the position of sniping an attacker coming in from their direction.

Yaroslava, however, had a unique question that had been overlooked. “Does this Shazan woman even know we’re coming? I don’t want a bullet to the face when we get confused for the Shafadi…”

“Since when have the Shafadi had gear like this?” Vlada asked, raising an eyebrow and following on the last line of the group, along with Galina.

“Good point, but I don’t know that all these sand dwellers know that,” Yaroslava said with a shrug. “I mean, I’m not on point, but whoever is might want to have a little concern over that.”

“We have a lot of question marks in this operation, yes,” Nina said. “There’s no confirmed location… This is just what intel thinks the location is based on a combination of asking around and a couple of sightings that were around this area. She could be here, she could not be here, but we haven’t made contact with her. We’re supposed to announce our presence… Which I guess is the most dangerous part of this. But the Shafadi don’t control this sector from what I was told.”

“And who’s the one making the sector maps?” Yaroslava questioned, taking on the role of the doubter for now. Someone had to raise the questions that needed to be answered if they wanted to stay safe.

Nina stopped, looking up at the building from outside - it was the average warehouse someone might find not far from the docks, the condition somewhat dilapidated… But most of the buildings around here were, for that matter. Her eyes were more drawn slowly to the building across the street from it on the other side of the road from the Vojvodean team, a deli which had a peculiar mural painted on the side wall displaying a man in olive fatigues holding up a rifle, obviously someone that they were supposed to recognize and not just a random soldier.

“Like hell it’s not a Shafadi sector, that mural right there is of Rahim Sorouri, big time warlord for their side and the one that made the SPF a relevant-” started Yaroslava, before her voice sharply cut off as she realized something and switched focuses. “SNIPER!”

She had spotted a glint of light from just next to the rooftop facade on top of the deli, and she knew there was only one thing that it could be - and she didn’t just raise a warning, but push her body to the limit, knowing she was putting herself in harm’s way as she accelerated her pace, kept her head down, and then launched herself forwards… Around the same moment that the bang happened. But she didn’t feel anything except for the hard thud of hitting the ground along with her commander, meaning she likely hadn’t been hit… And Nina was still well enough to bark out orders.

“Suppressing fire, damn it!” she shouted, before lowering her voice to a quieter and slightly more awkward tone as she spoke directly to the soldier on top of her. “And you can get off me now…”

“Fuck, right…” muttered Yaroslava, pushing herself up in time to see Margarita opening up with the light machine gun, her many bullets chewing up the facade and apparently getting enough penetration to hit the man behind, who had stood straight - probably to get out of the area. “Contact! Front!”

Seemed there were more hostiles than originally assumed. Nina was quick to hug the wall of the building behind her while taking aim and firing off suppression, as two more men poured out of the deli building with their guns blazing, the fight happening at a relatively close range and reminding Nina of the very real feeling that she could die here… Was easy to forget about when the fight was happening at a longer range than this. But like the embassy fight, they were only down the road from each other. Practically, they might as well have been fighting at a few arm’s lengths away and it would probably have the same feeling and effect.

Nina’s suppression kept them from being able to charge straight up, however, and the first of the men went down as Galina fired off a careful shot with her rifle while standing at the back of the group, the high caliber sniper round exploding the chest of her victim as she proved that her slower rate of fire was worth it. Though, Nina herself wasn’t going to let herself get outdone that easily as she held down her breath and pulled the trigger, putting two rounds into the chest of the second gunman as she waved to her squad and then started to push forward herself as soon as the body had fallen. “Come on! Keep the pressure up!”

Because being passive was the key to losing these battles. They had superior firepower and they had superior training… But if they stayed around cover the entire time, they wouldn’t be able to use it. While she wasn’t a reckless commander, she understood this, especially in the context of insurgents fighting against a powerful military like their own. Perhaps it would even shell shock the militia to see the professional soldiers they expected to fold standing up and making a move on them of their own.

Though, she found herself in the path of more Shafadi militants popping out of an alleyway behind the warehouse she was approaching. “Ah fuck…” Nina muttered under her breath… But not before squeezing the trigger again and letting loose a longer spray of lead, which was accompanied by covering fire from the rest of the squad as Galina picked one of them off before he could fully come around the corner and Yaroslava and Margarita bagged kills of their own. “Clear… For now.”

They really had no idea what else was out there.

“Eagle Knights, taking fire!” Margarita practically shouted into the radio, her own voice slightly shaking from the drama and the chaos as she reported in the situation since Nina was currently occupied. Her behavior was a contrast with Yaroslava, who seemed happy with the adrenaline rush, sprinting across the street without qualms once they had taken out the second group. “From uhh… Multiple directions.”

Margarita lingered but Nina repeated he hand gesture to come forward and the others started to move around her - the ones that hadn’t made the frantic dash across, at least… As she was in the middle of her run, she could hear the pounding of footsteps that weren’t from her own allies, as well as a foreign language… Another pair of Shafadi militiamen popped out from the alleyway behind the deli, but she opened up fire and pinned them in place, not taking either one of them out but making them extra vulnerable when Yaroslava fired off an underbarrel grenade in their direction. “Frag out!”

BANG!

The blast obliterated both men and the team was stacked against the wall of the warehouse by now. “I swear to Ouriel, if there’s more of these fuckers in here…” Yaroslava said, as she and Nina stacked up on the door to enter from the side - they would either find who they were looking for, find nothing, or find the enemy here. But if the enemy was here… Wouldn’t that effectively eliminate their reasons to stage an ambush outside?

“What’s that you said before about not being on point,” Galina said as she arrived, joining the stack next to the others and leaning in.

“Ah shut up, you don’t get to talk trash after being in the back…” Yaroslava replied snappily, before spinning to face the door and kicking it open, allowing Nina to rush in and Margarita to move to cover her with the machine gun in hand. Though, as it turned out, there wasn’t anyone in the warehouse from what they could see of the warehouse floor right now… Some boxes but no noise, no footsteps, nothing to indicate there was someone there. Yet.

“Feels funny,” said Nina, as Margaita and Yaroslava fanned out behind her to help her search. She took point, taking the most risk in the process, and moved down the main aisle… Looking from side to side and praying the others would catch it first if there was someone moving to ambush her. “Vojvodean military, we’re here in peace looking for Minu Shazan!” she shouted out, announcing their presence - a risk, but one that might help prevent a friendly fire incident between them and their target. “We’re here to extract you from the Shafadi, but that’s only going to happen if you come down here!”

Footsteps… Nina froze, and she held up her hand and the others froze behind her, guns trained on the staircase in case the person that emerged wasn’t the friendly that they were hoping for. However, this didn’t seem to be another shemagh clad Shaadi militant, but rather a woman that fit the description of what they had been told earlier - typical Amiriyyan skin tone, black hair that went down to about her shoulders, and a cybernetic arm which set her apart from most people around here… Supposedly, it had been gained thanks to injuries sustained in the captivity of Rahim Sorouri and his men, back in the days before the younger Sorouri had become a major player on this scene.

“I didn’t think I would find myself under rescue from Vojvodeans…” the woman said, putting her hands in the air to show that she didn’t have a weapon - at least, not one that was in her hands. She seemed to have a rifle on her back, which was understandable given the situation outside. “But I suppose the situation has changed heavily. You’ve come a long way here, foreigners… What is your business?”

A very loaded question indeed considering the Vojvodeans didn’t have the best history with any of the tribes - even if right now, the Bahrizadi were looking like the lesser of the evils, or rather, the one that there was the most mutual benefit in aligning themselves with.

“Well,” Nina started, doing her best to improvise, and flashing a smile that nobles seemed to like enough when she used it around them. “Some of the higher ups in my country think that the Shafadi devils you and your people speak about are not just your problem, but our problem…”

by **Forest State** » Tue Feb 18, 2020 9:38 pm

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 4
_{DEATH FROM ABOVE}

Vojvodean special unit Task Force 17 has returned to safety following the extraction of Bahrizadi militia leader Minu Shazan of Bahrizadi Popular Action, but while they speculate on the next moves and orders from high command, and report their intel to high command while staying with Carrier Division One, contractors of the Voronov Group take off from Guzan to help change the situation on the ground from the sky.

MAJ. Nina Chernova, 2nd Eagles Brigade, Task Force 17
CVN-9 “Fyodor Zavoyevetal”
January 22nd, 480 AC

I’ve never been one for the sea, really - coming from House Chernov, there’s always been other things that have been on our mind more than the waters. Our city is closer to the north coast than it is to the south, the naval hub of the country, which is one of the things that sets us apart from a coastal house such as the luxurious House Voronov of Lyachevo. Missiles, planes, and the like have been around our part of the country… But the sea? It’s far from the first thought on our mind.

But right now I find myself taking careful steps on a slick carrier deck, the feeling in my gut telling me that one wrong gust of wind will send me flying over the side. Paranoia, but founded in some reality. It is a danger, I presume, or they wouldn’t be so careful about who they allow up here… Then again, that could just be a side effect of the inherent risk of this place. Ammo carts rolling around, planes launching at high speeds, helicopter rotors which spin fast enough to take someone’s head off with ease. There’s a lot to be careful about around here. I suspect that the feeling in my gut is simply a natural reaction to the movement of the deck that comes from the shifting of the waves.

Regardless of my fear, we’re all here after the naval helicopter completed its landing - my own Task Force 17, extracted from Guzan after we crossed the border into the fallen country two days ago with our person of interest in tow… And the person of interest herself, Minu Shazan, the leader of the Bahrizadi Popular Action militia and one of the figures who can make a difference in our favor in this conflict. Should she choose to use her forces to help us, anyway. Just because we have her here doesn’t mean the job is done, so to speak.

“Impressive engineering… But excessive,” Minu muttered, looking over the surroundings with footing that’s more unstable than mine as we make our way to the stairwell which leads below deck. At the same time, there’s a pair of Vor-16K naval fighters being locked into position on the deck for a launch, the chocks placed by bright jacketed aircrew members while the pilots walk out from the area we’re headed to right now and approach their planes, both of them painted in naval blue. Likely, their assignment has something to do with combat air patrols around the coast and around the contested area of Salkah - where we extracted Minu from in the first place before making an escape across the border into Guzan.

“It’s designed to kill excessively,” Yaroslava countered, shaking her head while walking on the other side of our ‘guest’ as we turned, entered the stairwell, and started down the numerous steps that would take us under the deck. I’m glad we’re headed this way. While the sight of the deck is impressive and all, walking around on a ship that’s continually moving, and moving in the wind at that, isn’t a fun task for someone that’s rarely ever been in the water before. “Some group like the Shafadi start shit in a country like yours and this is the thing that gets sent in to clean up. ‘Course it’s a floating fortress.”

The deck of the Fyodor Zavoyevetal...

“The Shafadi claim they can sink a vessel like this… The Sarvelians, too,” Minu pointed out. “Either through overwhelming attack or with the missile batteries they have stationed on the shore.”

“There’s a good reason we’re not hanging around on the shore then, are we?”

Yaroslava seems short tempered with the ‘guest.’ There’s a few possible reasons behind it - but from what I’ve seen of her so far, I doubt that she’s a fan of the… Culture that we’re dealing with. Whether Bahrizadi or Shafadi. Both of those groups are Amiriyyan, and the Amiriyyans have caused enough trouble for us in the past year. None of us exactly like them, if we’re being honest. Even the Bahrizadi, who may become an ally, have at times shared some of the same sentiments as the Shafadi that kicked off our involvement in the conflict by attacking our oil fields and our diplomats.

Only reason they might turn to us right now is because they happen to be on the back foot at the moment and we’re the best nation in position to keep them from becoming the victims of a genocide if the more extreme parts of th Shafadi Popular Front have their way… Some of those extreme parts, of course, are now running the government and controlling the military.

Some of us are more vocal than others when it comes to expressing just how we feel about Amiriyya, however.

“Vojvodean arrogance was the cause of your defeat in Sarvelia, was it not?” Minu questioned, replying to Yaroslava’s question with one of her own that targeted the tone behind her words rather than the words themselves. Because Yaroslava had been right before about us staying out of the range of the weaker anti ship capabilities that this country had, but she had left holes in her argument through the way she’d said it. She’d given the foreign militiawoman a way to attack her with the very question she had just asked, and the Bahrizadi showed no desire to back away from sparring with my third in command.

“Fuck you mean?” Yaroslava raised an eyebrow at the question as if she didn’t consider it legitimate in the first place - she doesn’t, as I can say definitively from knowing her for the admittedly brief time we’ve been together. If there’s one person that believes in this country, and leans towards the side of the nation in most issues, it’s Yaroslava. Likely because she’s lived the Vojvodean experience so to speak….

Her past isn’t a clear picture but I already know that it isn’t a pretty one, from dysfunctional family to learning how to survive without them. She’s perhaps a person out of time, born in this area when stability and even comfort are attainable - unlike the past eras that Yaroslava has often spoken about, that more resemble her own experience with the country, one where might makes right and where stability depends on the strength of the person at the top.

“We got rid of their ability to fuck with us, I’d say that’s a win,” she continued as we passed through a doorway and were officially below deck… We still had to continue for a bit to get to where we wanted to go, however, but we were away from the winds and now in the series of hallways which had perhaps the opposite problem of feeling somewhat claustrophobic because of the fact that there were only two walkways. And on the other side of the walkway, Navy personnel frequently passed us, forcing us to walk single file.

“Maybe. The occupation, I’m aware, didn’t go as planned…” Minu said plainly. Which was the truth. Even someone like myself or Yaroslava would have to acknowledge that, but there is something about her tone that seems to have struck a nerve mildly with Yaroslava and has managed to get under my skin too. Her words make me grit my teeth, holding back a biting reply because of how it might be seen - I’m not just a soldier like the others, but the leader of the unit. Supposedly, the one who acts at a higher standard… It’s not something I’ve had to think about much before in my life, but training drilled that point into my head well enough for the memories of those lessons to come back during situations like this.

Sure, I could join the argument and point out that we’re the ones that saved her from the SPF, and that there’s no point in her bringing up sore subjects such as the Sarvelian War which is still remembered to this day in our own country. But not pissing off the potentially valuable ally is a more important task than defending the crown’s honor in this case - even if she speaks of a war that my own noble house remembers vividly, from both the battlefield and the war room.

Turns out I didn’t have to say anything, however, because one of the others chimes up on her own - our sniper, Galina, who as per usual for a sniper isn’t as social as the others… But she speaks her mind during the times when she does talk.

“You know, if someone rescued me from a Shafadi kill squad that was closing in, I would be a bit more grateful and not immediately pick fights with them. But that’s just me,” she said in a brooding tone - evidence the argument between Yaroslava and Minu had spread into the mood of the others, and not in a good way.

“I could have done that myself,” she said calmly, which was almost certainly the wrong thing to say in the situation, whether it was true or not… Though I had some doubts in my mind about whether the militia fighter in front of us would have been able to survive alone what had taken our team working together to get through. Snipers, multiple fireteams of gunmen, and an ambush which had been set up well in advance. Apparently, she had only been at the warehouse in the first place to hide from their forces.

My wish at that point was just for us to get to our destination-

“If you think you’re so tough…” Yaroslava said, but she didn’t finish her sentence, instead throwing the first haymaker in a sudden fight, the punch deflected with a two handed block by her opponent, the cybernetic arm perhaps a bit stronger than a natural one would be… I know from watching the others train that Yaroslava is no weakling, but Minu had no trouble sending her momentum back at her, causing her to stagger back… Only for a moment.

Another thing I know from my observation of her is that she’s going to take this fight to the gutter.

She aims for a punch high up towards Minu’s chin, but as I expect, it’s a feint and the actual move is a low dive which narrowly beats out another blocking attempt by Minu… She drives the militiawoman into the wall, and she’s working on posturing up and getting in a position to throw something, but by now, Margarita is moving to try and put a stop to this thing. And I felt that I’d have to jump in the mix too if it goes on for another few seconds, despite my desire to stay neutral in all of this.

“Hey-” Margarita started, but she’s cut off by the next round of action as Minu lunges forward, the cybernetic arm making contact with Yaroslava’s face and sending her flying out of the grip of Margarita… She couldn’t exactly do much to deflect the blow when she had someone holding onto her and keeping her from moving, almost as if in a moment of blindness, Margarita had thought it was a good idea to restrain only one part in the fight.

“Nice job holding me for her, dumbass!” Yaroslava shouted from the ground. “That was a real nice move, you really saved the day with that one!”

She didn’t get a chance to make things right as far as getting functionally knocked out in the fight - sailors immediately jumped into the mix to break things up properly, unlike the rushed job Margarita had done, and I had the feeling that all of us would end up getting yelled at for the incident… We might have deserved it, however. An incident like this could have an effect on relations. If relations broke down with the Bahrizadi, we had a harder situation on our hands.

CPT. Avel Ryzhikov, 1st Air Security Group
Voronov Group Firebase, 5km east of Dozvar, Emirate of Guzan
January 22nd, 480 AC

Guzan is a lonely place… At one point there had been tourism and bustling cities here, but at this point, there was hardly anything like that left to show someone like me who had never been here before that such things had existed in the first place. The buildings left around here had been cut down to size by lack of maintenance and elements - apartments which had collapsed in on themselves, spires were rusted and no longer visible in the night sky as no one kept up the lights surrounding them, and formerly large highways were covered over by sand at this point. The place was kinda like ancient ruins I had seen in pictures, but nothing around here is ancient.

Before the unfortunate fall, they had said that Guzan was more modern than Vojvodea, or so I heard… Things had changed since then, and since being deployed here by the Voronov Group in support of the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, me and my squadron had spent our time not far from the city of Dozvar… In previous days, this spot would have been a vacation destination for upper class Vojvodeans. Now, it may as well have been an apocalyptic wasteland from what all of us saw while flying into the location. Ever since we’ve been here, there’s been little interaction with anyone from the outside. However, some goods for the day to day running of the base, that weren’t flown in from our starting point of Lyachevo, were gained by management in exchange for trading scrap metal and guns to the locals. They’re tribal peoples from the looks of it, not far off from the types that live in Amiriyya, but unlike the Amiriyyans, they live a less tied down lifestyle and travel the area with caravans and motorcycles, moving from place to place and only setting up in one spot for a limited amount of time.

Weeks ago, I never would have thought that I would be in a position to run across these people, but here I am right now… Sitting on the runway in Guzan, hand on the stick as my Zh-31 Atlas D fighter rests behind one other of the sort, the pilot that I’ve been assigned to flying wingman to. Sure, I’d like to have a higher position in the company… To have my own wingman instead of flying as one. But I can’t complain. We’re about to head into real combat and for most of us, myself included, it’s the first time. It’s also something that was completely unexpected only a few weeks back, before the situation in Amiriyya decided to go to hell.

Management told us earlier in the day that we were heading out tonight because columns of Shafadi soldiers had to be intercepted as they headed to the section of the country around Dejan where mining was carried out. The mission is set to take place in the air and on the ground and the goals here are relatively straightforward - take out the column heading towards Dejan while they’re stopped at night and camped out for rest, and take out any aircraft of the defending side that show up to stop our efforts… Not that we’re expecting anything too modern from the other side, but just because the opponent isn’t modern doesn’t mean there’s no danger there, and it’s hard to deny there’s a slight uneasy feeling around the encampment.

I definitely feel it in my own gut, especially because of the nature of the mission. The exec told us to expect some low level flying and ground and pound combined with fast paced fighting in the air as we make our way in and out - that was exactly how he phrased it, to, in the same way that some HR person would tell a new job candidate how they’re looking for an energetic and skilled person with a rockstar attitude… In other words, corporate expects us to do everything, but you can only excel in so many areas. The Atlas can perform ground strikes but it’s not exactly the best plane out there for that, and the large size of it makes performance in that area a bit tricky.

I can only hope that out of all of us, I’m the one that looks good in the report and it’s someone from outside my flight that inevitably slips up with the wide task that they’ve given us… At night. Flying at night makes everything harder, but that’s another thing that they want us to do right now - the night vision equipment, of course, makes it hard to see close up while allowing for vision further out. It’s a trade off, but when reading labels and such within the cockpit, we have to peer outside the range of the goggles.

“Beginning takeoff roll…” a voice comes over my radio, the voice of Petro Ignatyev, the more experienced pilot that I’m flying for as a wingman.

“Affirmative,” I say back, as his engines heat up in front of my own aircraft and illuminate the area around in a slightly eerie orange glow before the plane accelerates, and I push forward on the throttle in mine to go through the same process some distance behind him, headed to join the others that are already in the air… This job, it’s an entire operation. Not just one for combat, but for logistics and such. Sending up a number of planes like we’re doing right now takes planning, and holding patterns in the sky for certain amounts of time to make sure the planes head off towards their destination without leaving anyone behind.

The Zh-31 Atlas D fighter.

“Gear up.”

We’re both in the air, the sound of wind rushing against the cockpit audible, and my jet gaining speed and settling into position on the back left side of his own aircraft. Around us, the environment is dark, but in the distance the ruined buildings of Dozvar can be seen easily. It’s hard to imagine that this was ever a place where people from my country went for vacation. Formerly great skyscrapers are crumbled, a large stadium has been partially reclaimed by the sands, and all of it is covered in the green glow that comes with looking through night vision goggles. This is no movie set, however. It’s not only a real place, but practically our base of operations until further notice.

I make a mental note to think about going in the city and checking it out. There’s probably more than a couple nice sights around there to look at, even if I suspect there’s also some dangers… I don’t think all of the floors in that city are going to hold out, after all.

Pushing the throttle forwards further as me and Petro join the group with the others, we’re now rocketing across the desert at high speed on a desperate mission - someone like me that’s here for the check and the thrills tends to not think about it too much, but fact of the matter is, this is important… We fail this one and there’s a good chance there’s a lot of VIOC casualties around the oil fields when the larger Shafadi force shows up and knocks down the remaining contractors defending the area. I don’t want to end up with a mark on my record from corporate, but aside from that, it’s not the kinda thing that I want to happen under my watch.

Even if it means taking a mission like this one on short notice.

The trip through the desert wasn’t a long one, at least in the terms of flight times. I’ve flown further distances in the past and we flew further without stop when we came here from the base at Lyachevo Municipal Airport. The surroundings, however, were for the most part barren throughout the ride once we got out of Guzan and started on our way to the destination, the region around the Amiriyyan city of Dejan… Though with the way things have panned out, it’s more of a Vojvodean city with the Amiriyyans trying to take it back - after conflict broke out, the oil fields and the VIOC personnel sort of broke off from the rest of the surrounding area. At least that’s what I heard.

Not that I wouldn’t do the same thing. They seized what they could from the locals because those locals were actively working to take them out. Really, they’re just looking to take care of themselves until the company brings them back home or until the situation at hand changes.

The uneventful flight, however, gets more interesting when the first of the expected contacts pops up on radar… Further away than the range of our missiles, leaving us to continue approaching on the same vector but not able to fight back yet as the radar screen in my cockpit beeps, informing me of there being danger ahead… Before it disappears. For a few moments, anyway. There’s another beep and it’s quickly back, and it dawns on me that the cloud cover might have an impact on the battle. Not just because it makes it harder to see, but because the clouds make radar coverage worse than it would be during a clear night.

There’s a slight rain coming down too, wetting the cockpit, but none of us are paying much attention to that. In my case, at least, I have my head down and I’m not even looking at the cockpit as autopilot keeps the plane headed on the same level course and instead looking at different details in the cockpit and checking things off my mental list. I’m looking between the radar panel, my weapons stores, some of the switches at the side… And then our flight leader gets my attention.

Voronov Systems Data Viewer
[MAJ] Dimitri Kosholev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Avenger”] - “Straight forward into the eight enemy contacts! Let’s show them a taste of what happens when you mess with an Empire…”

[CPT] Petro Ignatyev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Trickster”] - “A bold move…”

[MAJ] Dimitri Kosholev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Avenger”] - “Against a real Air Force, maybe… Not the shit that the Amiriyyan Air Force is flying.”

They are older fighters from what I know. Acquired a long time ago from Terminus, but the government around here had gotten poorer since those days and upgrades and replacements weren’t something that were planned… The pilots here made due and we would soon get a look at just how skilled or unskilled they are in spite of the older equipment they were running with. As corporate pilots, of course, we had been told about the difference that having modern equipment would make against certain sides. In reality, I knew it was quite possible to find a competent pilot around here.

Still, I followed the order and kept up the pace off the wing of Petro, the engagement coming up soon as the distance between our fighters and the enemy continues to decrease and decrease. We’re going to be in a position to fire off missiles soon enough. The HUD of my fighter changes and shows the distance updating real time, and soon enough there’s a shoot cue displaying as the targeting symbol turns to a wide circle, showing where to put the missile… I’m locked onto the first of the pair of enemy fighters approaching us - though there’s many others, and these two are simply the ones headed on the closest route towards us.

After pressing down on the weapons release button, I watch the missile streak out from under my wing and accelerate towards the target from distance - it helps that my fighter is the more modern of the two, an upgraded model of the Atlas compared to one that hasn’t seen a systems update in a while… By the time the other fighter has drawn within range to fire back, the missile is forcing the pilot to go evasive, in this case pulling a hard turn that surely stresses the less aerodynamic frame of the older plane. I keep the nose of my Atlas pointed in the direction of the enemy in case I need to shoot again, but the missile makes impact fairly easily and I adjust my course to close in on the other fighter with Petro.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was my first air to air victory. It all… Happened fast enough that in the moment my focus was simply on supporting Petro and staying with the other Amiriyyan plane, which had fired off a pair of missiles after closing into range with Petro, who had waited longer to fire his own… But he had gotten his own missile off, and I watch vapors appear around the opponent as he makes an evading turn that looks more successful than the one attempted by the previous fighter. There’s a chance here, I realize. Petro’s missile runs out of energy but in the process of evading, the Amiriyyan put himself right in position for me to gain a lock and fire my second missile, this one the closer ranged option of the R-304, which can strike within an area of about twenty kilometers… And we’ve already closed into that knife fighting distance.

His radar warning receiver has surely told him about the threat and he moves to gain altitude and evade the missile, but misjudges the speed at which it’s approaching… I watch the plane shatter into multiple parts as impact happens with a bright flash, and a noise that I can hear even from my own cockpit, and I streak by around the same time that the pilot ejects from the broken wreck just behind me, continuing on in the direction of our objectives.

Voronov Systems Data Viewer
[CPT] Petro Ignatyev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Trickster”] - “Good work, kid… Keep moving on the target. I’m right behind you.”

[CPT] Avel Ryzhikov [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“OZone”] - “I’m doing my best… Looks like we’re about twenty kilometers out.”

[CPT] Petro Ignatyev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Trickster”] - “That’s nothing. Get ready to make the run.”

When I’m sure we’re not going to end up attacked by another group of fighters, as the rest of the opposing force ends up tied up with the rest of the Voronov fighters moving in, I turn my attention to the panels within my cockpit and press a few buttons to bring up air to ground mode… If I was flying an aircraft more specialized for this purpose, I might have a targeting pod to rely on, but that’s not the case at the moment. No, this is going to come down to piloting… We don’t even have guided munitions because dropping them properly in a quick arrival and exit type of mission like this one would have a higher chance of getting fucked up by an ambush that draws us away from the goal.

I can, however, see the column that we need to destroy with my own eyes. The soldiers have stopped for the night, presumably to recharge a bit after traveling before heading into what will surely be an active combat area soon enough, but that’s their mistake… They detected us coming early and there’s lights on in the camp because of that, but those lights, as they don’t yet realize, will only help us in our unguided attack on them. Because at night, they may as well be illuminating themselves as a massive target for all of the Voronov fighters that make it through the quickly scrambled defense…

Strike on target.

As soon as I’m within the right range, I take a low dive, picking up speed inadvertently as the nose of the plane drops and gravity does its thing to carry me forward faster, but I don’t feel much of a lurch in my stomach… After being in the air this long, the feeling’s gone away now and the main sensation is the rush of adrenaline that comes from rushing towards the ground. I quickly level out, however, and hold down on the weapons release button as a line is displayed on my HUD, telling me just the right angle to stay on if I want the two hundred and fifty pound bomb to hit accurately. “Come on, come on…” I mutter under my breath. And then the bomb is free, and I push all the way forward on the throttle and use my afterburner to help escape as the radar warning receiver lights up with news of a SAM launch.

Of course it’s a SAM launch - it would be foolish to expect nothing from a camp like this, but the SAMs around here are as old as the fighters. While they can still kill, that would be more because of pilot error than because of the SAM being capable. I don’t expect to make one of those errors… While gaining altitude and speeding away from the site of the attack, I pop flares and chaff at the same time that there’s an explosion on the ground, and then a chain of smaller ones - I can’t see what I hit, but based on what I could see coming in, I may have detonated a couple adjacent fuel tanks from the sound of the noise.

The warnings continue to sound in my cockpit but as the first bit of panic sets in, they cut out as the missiles follow the chaff while I, on the other hand, make a hard turn and double back in the direction that I came from… There’s other fighters swooping in at this point, readying their missiles and bombs to fire at the targets on the ground, and there’s more SAMs firing off, the night vision lighting up with flashes of white each time there’s a new launch heading up into the sky, and all of it would be a beautiful scene if it wasn’t for the fact that it was life and death. There’s no time to admire the chaos in it, even as I’m free from the missile that was fired at my back and in the process of turning around for another go as Petro and some of the others come in for their first ones…

By the time I’m facing the camp again, it’s on fire and from what I can see with the night vision gear on, there’s people running around in a frenzy and trying to figure out what to do… One of the SAMs explodes, but it’s not by my hand. The missile was fired by another fighter in the squadron, from behind me, while I on the other hand target the building that I believe is the enemy depot. After aiming and holding the plane steady for a moment, I release the missile and send it towards the target before locking onto an enemy tank that’s not far from it and firing off my last air to ground missile, jerking the stick up immediately after as the cockpit is filled with the warning tone again.

At first, it was somewhat unnerving, but now you could even say it’s music to my ears… I survived one SAM launch but this time there’s two of them being fired from opposite directions, and I find myself in a tough spot… I have the choice of breaking to the left or the right and after a moment of deliberation, I pop flares and chaff and make a hard break to the left, the opposite direction of where I went last time. There’s another large missile being fired off from an outdated SAM on the ground at me, but I pop another bundle of chaff as the first missile falls aside, leaving me with the other two to deal with.

In the background there’s plenty of radio chatter from the others describing who is doing what and who is shooting what at which things, but it’s easy to tune all of it out with the only sound at the front of my mind being the one that indicates the missiles getting closer… But I have more than the one trick up my sleeve. Rather than going to more chaff and flares, now that the missiles are closer, I break hard in the other direction to the right, forcing them to turn with me and causing both of the missiles to run out of energy as I head back in the direction that we came from, both of them exploding some distance behind me but not close enough to do damage - which was my goal in this. To get out in one piece and preferably without anything to get yelled at by the repair people for.

Voronov Systems Data Viewer
[MAJ] Dimitri Kosholev [Zh-31 Atlas D] [“Avenger”] - “Strike successful! All fighters turn around and let’s get out of here!”

The entire formation is soon turning around and jetting out of the combat area, eager to get away before more fighters can be dispatched to our location… Not that we can’t handle them, but avoiding getting into a fight on the way out is generally a good idea. They’d have an advantage in ammunition and fuel if they hit us right now, after all, so we would prefer to avoid the fight entirely after having dealt enough damage to them on the ground that their advance is going to be halted for some days while the damages sustained to the column are repaired and replenished.

It seems I’ve survived this first engagement as we accelerate back in the direction that we came from - and I’m one of the first ones to join up with the others within the formation. Just like that, the first battle in the skies is already over and we’re headed back to Guzan, and away from any hostile fighters that might be sent to this area. I would have thought before that it’d be more memorable, but in reality, it’s been a blur…

Maybe after getting on the ground, the details will be more clear. For now, my focus is just on making it back and making the landing.

by **Valefontaine** » Fri Feb 21, 2020 5:25 am

S1E6
_{GUNDANCER A.E. 251}

A pop star seemingly becomes a target for a crazed killer.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gundancer A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 4
"Visions"

Pleasure District
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Murmere 4, 251 AE
5:30 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

I'm up early to handle a license check. The air smells a little different in the Pleasure District, but then again, it always does. I am faced with a particular scene: light-skinned she-fox foreigner and tanned local stud. The director doesn't want me on set, but by hell I'm a Gundancer and the law dictates I be here. Cameras roll. She's screaming and yipping like a rabid bitch dog with rabies, clawing at the hunk with euphoric abandon. Director here specializes in rougher scenes, so I've been told. Taps into a certain audience.

Muxen give me patience... I've only had my first cup of coffee.

---==============---

The Pleasure District is a natural home for the unsavory.

"Cut!" The director called, crew shuffling about as cameras were reorganized, lighting redone. He was far from cheap, when it came to production quality. Gemeka stood idle, waiting for him to divert his attention as she waited. It didn't take long, of course, the bearded man offering Gemeka a hand. "Name's Aritku. You's, ah, with da Department, right?"

"The Agency," Gemeka corrected.

"Yea, yea.. surely not da Agency of Recordkeeping, eh?.." He joked.

"The Agency of Order," Gemeka replied plainly. "As you might know, the production of pornography requires a license, renewed once every two years with receipts filed monthly..."

Aritku sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yea yea, I got da papers. Don't dose bigwig goldbrickin' cock-suckers pushin' you around got anything better ta do? Ah, fuck it. Asuwan!" The director called to one of the crewmen. "Fetch me da licensin' paperwork!"

The actors step off-set, blabbering on to the crews — clean off, catch a breather... it's a fairly comfortable, laid-back operation.

"The girl.." Gemeka trailed off, her question swiftly answered by the director.

"Eunomian... runaway types. See 'em all da time. You could have someone from Eunomia shovel shit for a livin' and dey'd still be happy. Yanno how it is. Fuckin' shithole country... really take what da Gods give us for granted sometimes."

"Mm.. none of these actors are... underage, right?" questioned the Gundancer. "I'm legally required to ask."

"No, nono... I got dat paperwork on hand too. ASUWAN! FETCH ME DA OTHER PAPERS WHILE YA AT IT!" Turning back to Gemeka, Aritku smirked. "Teach one of dose foreign girls how to read n' write cuneiform, and she'll be grateful, hm?"

"She a Maturochi citizen?" Gemeka questioned. "A 'shithole' like Eunomia isn't particularly a place we give visas to willy-nilly... and the production of pornography involving non-citizens requires a license. Prevent exploitation, human trafficking."

Aritku chuckled, nodding. "Course she's a citizen! She's legally registered as my daughter... heheh. Gotta play da system by da loopholes, eh?"

Fucking scumbag. I hold back my hatred as I see his toothy grin.

"You fucking disgust me. Get me those papers while I'm still in a good mood." Gemeka instructed, scowling.

"All in time, all in time..." As if on cue, Aritku's subordinate brought a group of avila folders. Sitting down by one of the tables, Gemeka combed through the documents one by one. Perusing the files with precision, her eyes scanned the plethora of verified, stamped legalese. It was nothing beyond the ordinary — if anything, it was too mundane. "Clean as a whistle, eh?" He questioned, standing before her as she studied the documents.

"Everything looks to be in order." Gemeka noted, setting the last folder aside as she stood up. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Thanks a million," replied the director. "Yanno, you's got a nice physique... if da goin' ever gets tough for you... I've gots a gundancer-themed production comin' up. Make yasself a little extra money, hm?"

"I don't think so." Gemeka flatly declined.

I take my leave, the doors of the warehouse studio soon behind me as I linger outside for a smoke. As I stand streetside a car approaches, slowing down... today's not the day I intend to be the victim of a driveby. I clutch the sawed-off in my coat as men step out.

---==============---

Armannu's glistening streets belie a dark underbelly.

"Ah, Gemeka! When the boys told me you were doing a job in this District, I half expected you to offer me a blowjo—"

Brown overcoat, suit, shaven face... Balathu. My Overseer in the Agency of Order. Technically, I answer to him. I rarely do... job's fairly freelance, until it isn't. If he's here, he wants something of me.

"Fuck off." Gemeka spat. "What's the occasion?"

"There's something up your alley, Gemeka," Balathu began, raising a hand. "A killer is on the loose in Armannu..."

Gemeka raised a brow, adjusting her glasses. "Go on.."

"My informants tell me you came here by public transport. Climb on — I'm sure you'll find this job worthwhile."

To this, Gemeka simply shrugged. "I don't believe I have a choice."

I climb aboard the sedan. It smells of cigars and men's perfume... either it's strong enough to make me lightheaded, or the Pleasure District's air is finally getting to me. Balathu joins me, closing the door as the streets of Armannu coalesce into a moving, lively panorama beyond the windows.

"Now, Gemeka, let's talk business." Balathu began, reclining in his rear leather seat. "There's a killer on the loose. He's targeting Eridanian diplomats and we can't quite figure out why. We're driving to his fifth kill of the week and our... 'friends' are getting worried. The brutality of these acts don't entirely imply the work of a blade or a firearm, no... we're dealing with a Starchild here."

Star-Child, Rad-Child, ESPer... call them what you want, they're a pain in the ass to take down, when push comes to shove. A careful neurokinetic can drive a man to submit by the sheer agony overloading his nervous system, or rewire an opponent's mind to a writhing slavish mess capable of defecating on command. It all depends on how gifted they are. Don't get me started on pyrokinetics... truth be told, they're a danger.

"What kind?" Gemeka questioned, glancing over to Balathu with mild curiosity.

"A mid-tier telekinetic, most likely. It would seem he uses this ability to kill his enemies with unusual objects, create scenes that seem to carry some form of elaborate significance... we've come to call him the Vignette Killer." replied Balathu. "We're driving to the scene of his latest piece, if you could call it that."

"You're throwing me against a telekinetic... what's the price here?" Gemeka questioned.

"If you get him? Five-hundred." replied Balathu.

Slick bastard. 'If I get him'... I'll get him, you just watch.

There was a silence in the car as the blur of lights beyond transitioned to the fancy sights of the Providence District. Police sirens glimmered along the road, the ride coming to a slow halt as Balathu stepped off, Gemeka following soon thereafter.

Police line the street, lights flashing as we approach amidst the chaos.

It's not unlike the scenes of a few years prior — the Black Pearl Killer had a thing for Ardataxite gala and women. Replaced the eyes of his victims with pearls, painted black in color... it was not difficult to deduce he was nobility with an abundance of pearls in his possession. Nobody knew why he did it.

'I kill the whore... and then I am no longer blind. I see. I see!' You almost think he was trying to philosophize something, but then he strips naked and attempts to flee the courtroom. A shrill 'WHEEEEEEEE!' was his final cry, before the batons of the Metropolitan Police officers rendered him a half-retarded cripple for life.

The fact the man cannot walk, and incidentally shits himself at times from the brain damage... is deemed sufficient cause to simply give him a mere life sentence, rather than the death penalty. The officers are heroes, and justice is served.

Oh, where was I?

"Man's an artist," Balathu noted, looking on at the macabre effigy. The body had been practically ripped limb from limb, impaled against the street's stonework by steel fence-bars, spikes arrayed in an aureole around the body. The legs were arranged in a particular fashion... that it might seem as if the man was in the midst of a Vajrayan dance. "Now, if I'm not wrong—"

---==============---

A deathly dance.

"Oh, NOW y'decide to show up, huh?" It was more than evident their Eridanian counterparts were rather... dissatisfied with the string of murders.

Light skin, moustache, pair of sunglasses — it's not even that bright out yet, dipshit. Mr. Ambassador's not quite pleased, and he gets up in our face about it.

---==============---

Eridanian ambassador to Maturoch, Erick Newman Jr. ... he's corrupt as they come.

"Well, lemmetelly'what, it's those fuckin' occultist FREAKS from the Gradelonian embassy are behind this, I tell ya. Now why don't y'go in there and—..." The Ambassador trailed off. "..s'that the Gundancer y'mentioned, Balathu, or s'that your wif—"

"I'm not his wife." Gemeka snapped, warranting a chuckle from her superior.

"Great! Why don't y'go into their embassy and SHOW 'EM WHAT FUCKIN' HAPPENS WHEN—" The ambassador's rant was cut short as Gemeka spoke up.

"..causing international incidents isn't what I do. Do you have a list of diplomatic staff? You know..."

"You think WE'RE doing this to ourselves?"

"I believe she suspects a disgruntled employee," Balathu spoke up, to which Gemeka nodded in agreement. "And we'd make decent progress on this matter if you complied."

The Ambassador seems to fumble with his words for a moment, muttering something in his shitheel Eridanian drawl about us 'sand-n¥¥¥¥¥' before sighing in resignation. We've won, it seems.

"Yeah. Yeah, alright... y'all win. There's, uh, one person who hasn't turned up in a week," replied the man, furrowing his brow as he looked on at the gruesome scene. "...think his name was Rox. Roy? Ray? No... Rufus. Rufus Cox. Yeah. That's the one. Fuck'n dog's name— you need his address or somethin'?"

"Yes." Gemeka replied flatly.

"Well, good! Get him off my plate. Lemme just call up my secretary and—..."

His voice becomes a blur as I study the scene. Everything's impeccably precise... I don't believe someone would've had the time to set up a scene like this on the street. It's exactly as Balathu said — man's an ESPer, using his ability to create these little scenes. The Vignette Killer... ha. What killed this guy is rather clear to me as I look at his corpse: there's one fence spike that's impaled through his chest, piercing the heart with mathematical precision.

"..no, it ain't about our plans tonight, Ester. No— I'm not bringin' lube. I'm gon'be usin' my spit. No, nonono— this ain't about any of that. I need the file on... uhh.. Rufus Cox?" The ambassador stood idle, both hands gripping his bulky mobile phone. "Yes, yes... my Maturochi friends gon' be needin' it. Mhm... whadd'ya mean the servers're down? Get 'em back up!" Lowering his phone momentarily, he looked to the two. "She says it'll take fifteen minutes."

Gemeka, naturally, wasn't one to wait for petty pencil-pushing. "I don't like waiting, Ambassador."

The ambassador nervously fidgeted with the phone's wiring as he continued. "..look, Ester, I don't have time for this. I tell you h'what, I know damn well I done hired you for more than just your body... try a backup server because this sand-n¥¥¥¥¥ here don't look the least bit happy 'bout waiting!"

It goes back and forth a bit more. A sigh of relief escapes me as he slings his phone back over his shoulder. He looks like a queer with the stupid, bulky contraption on him like a purse... and the moustache doesn't quite help.

"115 Ekur Street, room 424..." He announced, sighing with relief. Gemeka couldn't help but feel half his relief had to do with no longer dealing with them.

Gemeka replied with a nod. "Sounds good... we'll take a look. Thank you for your time."

It didn't take long for the Eridanian to depart, leaving only Gemeka and her agency superior at the scene, along with the police now readily hauling the body out.

"You're going to be paying me more than five-hundred Kaspu for this, Balathu." Gemeka bluntly stated, turning around to face him.

"If you decide to get your knees a little red for it, sure." Balathu nonchalantly shrugged, smirking.

Go fuck yourself, sleazebag.

"No." Gemeka replied, hardly flinching at the casual harassment. "We'll talk price when the job is done. I'm going to give you a run for your money when I get this asshole."

Everyone has values. I have mine... I prefer having dignity over having it easy. I begin for the sidewalk, parting ways with my superior as I begin for 115 Ekur... it's within walking distance, thank Muxen. I'm sure Balathu gets the message I don't plan on being his sidekick and getting a half-assed pay.

Providence District
Host to Armannu's high-class elite and host to foreign tourists is the Providence District. Dubbed the 'Pearl of Tiamat', the sprawling district is in close competition with the Financial District for the crown of the city. Shopping malls, skyscrapers and ziggurats decorate the thoroughfare of the Providence District, while Ligish Street is widely known as the fashion capital of all Tiamat.

The apartments are a decent arrangement overlooking the streets below. I keep silent, observing through the glass windows of the elevator as I ascend... it does not take long for me to reach the fourth floor. I begin down an open-air corridor, the sounds of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the light rainfall acting as calm white noise to my approach...

Gemeka's eyes shifted about, mindful of her surroundings as she approached the door in question. The corridors were mostly vacant at this hour — every now and then she'd pass a salaryman on his way to work — and security was fairly light in the form of CCTV cameras upon corners.

Still, she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of envy. It was unusual that a foreign nation's diplomatic corps could guarantee a mere duct worker such pleasant amenities... while a Gundancer like her struggled to get by on an Agency paycheck. Rounding another corner with shotgun at the ready, Gemeka cautiously approached the door. No light trickled in through the other side... perhaps Cox wasn't home, or perhaps...

Gemeka steadied her breathing, leaning against the door labeled '424' as she listened in. Her inquiry was met by silence within, whispers of nothingness echoing as the Gundancer pulled away. With a single shotgun round she sent the door swinging open, a dark room meeting her gaze.

As I slip in, I am mindful of traps. 'Disgruntled employee' seems the perfect premise for a home laden with booby traps... but that is not the case as I take a few more cautious steps in. My shoes tread silently upon the carpet flooring as I proceed forth, weapon at the ready... the television drones on as my eyes scan the room, a phantasmagoric slideshow of nothing important playing out upon the cathodic screen, casting eerie shadows across the living room by its light... I see movement where there is none, and my paranoid mind seeks to find malice in the purified, cold air within.

---==============---

Nobody's home.

As Gemeka's hand wandered to the lightswitch, it became readily apparent the man had been keeping his apartment less than clean. Empty cartons of food littered the ground — and yet that wasn't what had caught the Gundancer's attention. Scrawled across the walls were plans, photos... targets. With a careful gait Gemeka approached what seemed to be the man's makeshift planning board, photographs pinned across the wall in nothing short of a schizophrenic mural.

Decorating the wall were photographs of men and locations, some scrawled out. Complementing each photograph was a date... the man was meticulous at his craft. Studying the scene laid before her, Gemeka could quickly begin constructing a narrative as she studied the wall.

Last date is yesterday. The man in the photograph is crossed out... this 'Rufus Cox' is the killer.

Gemeka's eyes scanned the mural before her, slowly working her way to the top.

"11/4/251 ELIMINATE THE EVIL TONIGHT 9:45"

---==============---

The last song.

The photograph at the top of this pyramid of schizophrenic delusion is of a pop concert. It seems out of place... but it seems the best shot I'd have. With a series of thoughts and impulses, I delve into the information maze... Armannu is a hive of information where the national NooSpace network truly thrives.

Shows today... Concerts today...

Update!!!!
___________________________________________________
By Ninsana
7:15 PM | 10/54/251
Well, we did it guys! Thanks to all your love and support, I finally got a license to throw a concert in Megastadium Ahritu... This is gonna be bigger than my last two tours combined! I hear there's gonna be some big names ;-) ;-) ... but you didn't hear that from me! Word is, rooms at the Kaniu Regal are already selling out! Show starts at 9:00 PM on the 4th of Murmere... Heheh... enjoy the show!

My Album sold out?!?!
___________________________________________________
By Ninsana
3:30 PM | 10/42/251
Omgosh... you guys are the best!!!! Producer told me this morning that we're out of physical copies of "Me and You"... More coming next week! And a surprise... ;-)

[read more posts]

Shit.

Gemeka's eyes widened in realization — there was plenty of time until then... time she could use to prepare towards catching her target. Beginning for the door, she paused by the kitchen counter... there, half-open, was a wallet.

Within is Cox's ID... now I know who to look for. Duct man's in for a surprise.

Financial District
The booming heart of Maturoch's capital, the Financial District is a vast collection of high-class skyscrapers, streets bustling with salarymen and the city's elite, watching the eternal hustle of the metropolis from their skyscrapers; their concrete monuments to excess and prosperity.

This stadium's busier than I anticipated. Vast limestone arches complemented by reinforced bronze frames are gateways through which the dozen-thousand monkeymass spill forth, not unlike the ants of Old Tsion. I am trying to warn the superstar beforehand...

"You wanna speak to Ninsana? What, you a superfan or somethin'?" The security guard scoffed, arms crossed. He was almost Gemeka's height, which spoke measures to the intimidating aura he exuded.

"I'm a Gundancer," Gemeka said, revealing her cylindrical ID-seal. "Now I'd like to speak with Ninsana regarding an important matter."

The man seemed to hesitate as he specced Gemeka's figure thoroughly, as if to mentally ponder whether she was, indeed, the real deal.

"Well, uh, shit... go ahead." Shrugging, the guard stepped aside — Gemeka promptly walking past as she opened the door.

The halls of the backstage were busy with assistants and crew of varying purpose, Gemeka slipping past most of them without event. The corridors, filled with the plethora of additional crew hands, were uncomfortably narrow for the Gundancer as she pressed on, eyes darting about as she searched for Ninsana.

"Ehhh?? What do you mean the smoke generators are broken? We've only got four hours to get this show on the road!—" Ninsana paused, taking note of Gemeka's presence. Confusion was practically written across her features, the singer raising a brow. "Uhhh... you're not one of the crew, are you?"

"Agency of Order," Gemeka introduced herself, cylindrical identification seal in hand. "There's something important that demands your attention."

Ninsana seemed mildly surprised — it'd be a moment before her confusion subsided and she quietly nodded. "..oh. Uhh... alright, sure. Can my producer, uhhh... y'know..." The singer glanced to the man beside her. It was a matter that concerned the both of them, after all.

Gemeka shrugged. "..sure."

They lead the way to one of the myriad rooms along the corridors — and here I am greeted with the celebrity's personal dressing room. The air is cloyed with the scent of perfume and outfit choices hang across the wall, a closet of sorts... naturally, Ninsana is wearing the most extravagant one of them all.

"So what's the catch?" questioned the producer. "Name's Namtar, by the way. I run the show... and the show's Ninsana here. You a fan? A superfan? A Rememberhead?"

"A Rememberhead?" Gemeka questioned.

At this, Namtar seemed genuinely baffled. "Huh? You don't know— ah, different tastes, I suppose. It's all about nostalgia, baby. The beats of yester-decade, reimagined. Here, have a listen... I'll fetch drinks." Approaching a radio set beside the dressing mirror, Namtar let the music come to life, walking past to open the fridge.

"That's, uh, me singing by the way." Ninsana added, Gemeka idly listening.

"Mm.. reminds me of my childhood." Gemeka agreed, nostalgia setting in. It didn't take long for Namtar to bring a few cola bottles, offering one to Gemeka.

I accept his hospitality, carefully studying the bottle... as expected, nothing's been tampered with. I crack it open and take a sip...

Namtar casually leaned against the wall, taking a gulp from his own bottle before speaking up. "So, a Gundancer out here... what's the occasion?"

"I have reason to believe your lives may be in danger." replied Gemeka. The shock was almost instantaneous, a white pallor setting in on the faces of both her hosts.

"..y—you're kidding, right? Hold on— what do you mean?" questioned Ninsana.

"I'm tracking down a serial killer who's been targeting foreign diplomatic officials in the Providence District... up until now. He seemingly intends to pay the stadium a visit — or something to that effect — in a few hours' time. He's after someone. Perhaps you, or perhaps... one of the thousands of people attending."

"..should we shut the event down?" Ninsana asked, concern palpable about her features.

"No way." Nimtar shook his head in firm disagreement. "We aren't going to lose millions of Kaspu and our biggest event yet over some crazed freak. Any more details on this guy, Gundancer?"

Reaching into her coat, Gemeka revealed the man's ID, index finger resting upon the photograph of his face. "..I want local security to keep eyes out for this man. I'm going to hunt him down... but first.." Trailing off, Gemeka paused, her thoughts resting upon her own suspicions towards who the man might be targeting. "Do you, perhaps, have a list of attendees?"

"That's ridiculous!" Namtar scoffed. "You're asking for, what, seventy-thousand, ninety-thousand maybe, names in total?"

"Let me narrow things down for you: Eridanian diplomat. Just to scratch a curiosity of mine... call up whatever Department handled your licensing and see what they turn up."

"Of course I gotta shovel through the bureaucratic shit..." murmured Namtar. "I'll take a look. Why don't you and Ninsana chat in the meanwhile?" By the nature of things, a call to a Department could mean anything from five minutes to fifty — Gemeka could only hope for the former. With that, Namtar took his leave... an awkward silence quickly setting in as the Gundancer stood idle before the pop singer.

"So, umm... you Gundancers, like, uhhh..." Ninsana trailed off. "..what's life like for you? Is it like what the documentaries say, like an action movie every day?"

They always ask this, don't they?

Gemeka shrugged. "Not really. It's pretty boring, really... until you get the next job."

"Can you show me a trick?"

"..I don't want to hurt you." Gemeka flatly replied.

Ninsana fell silent. "Oh. Uhh.. sorry. I've just never really, uh, talked to, y'know—"

The door swung open as Namtar returned. Gemeka silently thanked the bureaucracy for not being a pain in the ass on this particular day... "I've got your name, Gundancer. Uhhh... Dennis Vought? He works at the embassy, they said he's with a friend—"

Gemeka perked up almost immediately — it wasn't hard to put two and two together. "The good news: both of you are safe. The bad news: I feel someone's going to play sharpshooter..."

"F—from wh—" Ninsana's question would be quickly interrupted as Gemeka continued.

"You said on your NooLog that the Kaniu Regal was practically filling with guests... I think I know where to begin searching. I'll be going now... enjoy the show."

"Y—you too..."

Kaniu Regal Hotel
Towering among the Financial District's giants is the Kaniu Regal Hotel. It plays host to Armannu's finest socialites and elites, emblematic of the high-brow classiness of the Financial District. Built in 213 AE, the hotel entered operations in 219, finding immense popularity among the city's upper class... it has been host to decades of social events, and is considered among the sites of cultural significance not only in Armannu, but in Maturoch as a whole.

The faint echoes of music reverberate even here as I enter the lobby. I see there tourists from practically every corner of the world, united by the common heritage of having money. Their chatter is mere white noise as I continue through the lobby, eyes scanning for my target. Cox... Rufus Cox. Where are you, shitheel?

With firearm at the ready I silently observe the crowd of tourists, akin to some form of jungle-predator stalking its prey. I bide my time — doubt overshadows me. What if he's already gone up? What if I'm at the wrong place? Those questions weigh on me... but not too heavily. My mission's to catch him — not to keep him from striking again.

And yet it hurts. Something inside me's aching for that singer — contrary to the personality she puts on display, she's just an innocent girl deep down... I've really got a soft side, don't I?

Truth is, I just don't want anything bad to happen to her. And so, as I silently observe the lobby, I worry. I worry... that something terrible is going to happen that I cannot prevent. My hand remains tucked into my coat, hand tightly gripping my M-31 pistol as doubt looms.

I mustn't let my emotions take hold. My eyes peruse the lobby once more — the rotating doors turn.

...he's more gruff than I expected. He's in a rush — and I'm not about to start firing in this crowded lobby. Instead, I follow him... right into an elevator. An awkward silence ensues.

"Going up?" Rufus questioned, hitting '24' on the push buttons.

"..hah.. yeah.." replied Gemeka between pants, hand jamming '25'.

Looking to the man, Gemeka noticed he had something slung over his shoulder — a case of some sort. Upon her gaze, he looked away with an anxious demeanor about him — maybe he wasn't all too sure about this himself, either.

Perhaps he is a slave to his own madness... helpless to stop his urge to kill.

Gemeka's thoughts were interrupted as the ding of the elevator reaching the 24th floor resonated through the small chamber. The man took his leave, Gemeka's hand drifting to the 'open door' button as she held the door open, keeping the elevator in place as she watched him begin down the corridor. With great caution, Gemeka slipped out of the elevator, finding cover behind a corner amid the corridors as she observed the disgruntled Eridanian worker.

He was headed somewhere — or nowhere in particular, Gemeka still tried to discern his next move — and carefully followed as he turned a corner. More hotel rooms, each numbered... at the corridor's end he seemed to pause. Apprehension defined the man, Gemeka could tell, to which she herself almost felt hesitation as well.

The door's lock shatters under the ESPer's influence, swinging ajar as he nervously steps in. I give pursuit — and as I peer into the room, I see the man himself in the midst of setting up a sniper rifle at the luxury room's windows. I don't hesitate —

and yet my bullet does. With a curve that seems to defy the laws of physics, he sends my shot uselessly crashing through the glass. The shards become projectiles thrown my way... instinct kicks in.

A dresser serves as cover as he draws his pistol, firing in my direction. This... is going to be a pain in the ass.

---==============---

You shouldn't have done that.

"I thought you said the 25th floor!" Cox exclaimed, before putting two more rounds into the wall behind Gemeka.

Gemeka had little to reply with as she lunged for better cover — the bed, specifically. "I'm not the one who's cutting people apart and putting them on display, am I?"

"You don't understand! They never do... the visions chose me!" He replied, finding cover behind the couch. A vase upon one of the coffee tables would become a projectile thrown Gemeka's way, one she hastily stopped with her sidearm.

As I guessed, he's fucking insane.

"Visions?!" Gemeka yelled back. "What visions?!"

---==============---

A battle overlooking the city that never sleeps.

"Of the things to come! I killed them because I knew what was going to happen! A—and if you try to stop me, you're going to have to die with them!"

The mirror in the room flies off its hinges, shattering as its fragments become a plethora of blades... I hastily roll out of the way and find cover behind one of the shelves, only for a sharp pain to shoot up my leg — one of the pieces has left its mark.

"W—what's going to happen?!" replied Gemeka, hand trembling as the pain coursed through her.

"I've seen it all!" Cox cried out, voice shaking with despair. "The wars, the destruction... you don't understand!"

"I—I'm trying to understand! We can both get out of here alive... if you explain what the FUCK you're doing!" Gemeka lied, tightly gripping her sidearm as she took aim.

BANG BANG BANG

Once again, it seemed the man could effortlessly deflect her shots, sending rounds uselessly falling to the ground.

"Dennis Vought!" Cox yelled, firing a few more rounds that whizzed past Gemeka. "The visions... he'll lead the Confederacy one day, he'll burn half the continent down! The wars on Tsion, the big flash... I know about it all and I seen what's coming here! The dying millions! The genocides, the bombs dropping! My God... you can't let this happen! I... I have to kill him!"

"I'd sooner believe that you're a kook than a precog!" Gemeka replied.

"I KNOW it to be true!"

I empty my magazine before throwing it at him — it catches him off-guard as he instinctively stops it with his ability. I make a run for it, and then I lunge with patru in hand. Time seems to freeze as his eyes widen, blood trickling down his nose... I've caught him by a hairstring, and with a final kick I send him tumbling backwards into the glass, pulling my sword out of his chest.

As the glass shatters behind him, he falls, his figure becoming smaller and smaller as I watch him fall into the abyss of cars on the busy street below. The parked taxi he crashes into is a bill for another department to foot... my job is done.

Yet I stand there, dumbfounded. I feel as if this entire goddamn city's going mad, ever since that broadcast... whispers of conspiracies, prophecies, and grand master plans... a subtle hysteria seems to creep upon this vast metropolis, a hysteria that slowly eats away at the sanity of men good and evil.

Was he acting upon the whispers of madness... or was he driven to act out of a noble desire to prevent a bloodshed he perceived as inevitable?

The scene at the base of the Kaniu Regal was one that had quickly been cordoned off by Metropolitan Police, Gemeka observing the aftermath of her victory. The festivities of the show were reaching their conclusion by now, music dying down as crowds already began to flow out of the nearby stadium... and yet she felt as if all was silent. There were few words to adequately describe the solitude she felt, and fewer to describe the chain of seemingly interconnected affairs that seemed to hang over the Capital. It was as if weaving spiders were casting upon every wretched corner of the city some form of conspiracy, some form of plot... for the first time in a long while, Gemeka felt complete uncertainty.

Standing there with hands in her coat pockets, she heard the approach of footsteps behind her — dragging her out of her thoughtful trance.

"You've done the right thing, Gemeka." Balathu said, giving her a pat on the back. "The Eridanians were informed — and they are pleased. They intend to personally congratulate you... I won't question how you deduced he planned to specifically come here of all places, but you do your job right — and that's the best I can ask of someone like you. Here — 800 Kaspu for your troubles."

..d—damn you, Balathu.. you're just being nice because I did my job.

"Oh— thanks." Gemeka hesitantly accepted the stack of notes, slipping them into her leather wallet.

"Something the matter?" He'd seemingly taken notice of her uncharacteristic behavior, tilting his head.

"No."

"You sure?"

"No— I mean, yes."

"Nevertheless," Balathu continued. "Good work. The Eridanians should be coming over any minute now to congratulate you... if they ask, I did all the hard-hitting investigating, hm?" He chuckled, giving Gemeka another congratulatory pat on the back before taking his leave.

Fuck you.

A black sedan came to a halt just before the cordoned-off scene, doors opening as Eridanian MPs stood guard. Two men stepped off — and it quickly dawned on Gemeka who had come to congratulate her.

---==============---

Who is Dennis Vought?

Archibald Earl Bluebook, and beside him a man she couldn't immediately recognize.

"Dennis Vought, Imperial Confederate State Department." He introduced himself, offering a hand to Gemeka. "It has come to my attention that the man you dispatched earlier carried clear intent to make an attempt on the lives of myself, and likely Mr. Bluebook over here."

"I suppose my name needs no introductions," Bluebook agreed, lightly bowing.

The otherwise unremarkable diplomat had a fairly dominant grip as he shook Gemeka's hand, a subtle curiosity rising within her.

"I would like to make it incredibly clear that you have my gratitude for... saving my life, when I did not even know it was in danger. Traitorous malcontents are, sadly, a blemish on the Confederacy's good name. I intend to make it quite clear to the politicians back home that sedition is a sickness, a disease that must be rooted out. I planned to buy my wife a new Vidi™ purse... but I believe you are far more deserving of a reward at the present moment."

Without warning, the Eridanian left another stack of Kaspu in Gemeka's hand.

Six-hundred-something Kaspu... Muxen either tests my humility or rewards my diligence.

"Treat yourself, why don't you? It's on me. Now, I believe the ambassador may want a word with me..." In a moment, Vought took his leave, Gemeka standing idle with bills in hand... and a business card.

Before she could scrutinize it further, she came face to face with Vought's 'friend', who had seemingly lingered for a further word. "Y'gettin' pretty deep into all this, don'tcha think?" Bluebook noted, eyes meeting Gemeka's own. It was clear by the tone of his voice he intended to intimidate, drawing a few inches nearer. "My time's very precious, Gundancer... I don't like when people disrupt things I'm workin' hard towards."

"I'm not sure I understand." Gemeka lied.

---==============---

Bullshit!

"Bullshit! Y'killed my boy Rihat... and he was a damn fine Gundancer..." He trailed off — Gemeka wasn't sure whether he was about to threaten her further or go on an outburst. Instead, he extended a gloved hand, offering her a handshake. "..that makes us acquaintances."

by **Forest State** » Fri Feb 21, 2020 5:55 am

1821
S1E3
_{ALL FALLS DOWN}

To curb the flow of weapons into Avarece from Vesperanze, 1821 Security Services has receive a new mission… One that will bring them in conflict with the neighboring nation of Vibria and their antagonistic intelligence service, the INV.

Soanne, State of Avarece
January 25th, 480 - Murmere 7th, 251
12:05 PM
Collaborative post between Forest State and Valefontaine

Soanne was a far cry from Travia - while the latter city seemed made up of a number of neighborhoods stacked upon each other in a chaotic organization and a maze of streets, the east coast port city of Avarece was quite spread out in comparison. A large section of the city was located immediately on the water, and therefore, the city was more long than dense as the most developed stretches of it extended along the coast instead of going too far inland. Inland, rather, was where the suburbs were located… But it wasn’t relevant to the latest operation of 1821 Security Services, which was connected to the sea.

At least that was what they had heard. They were about to receive the mission officially, and that meant heading to the meeting point where they were supposed to find someone from the admiral’s guard. Unlike last time where they’d been met at the airport, they were starting out at the site where they would actually conduct this operation, which was going to begin on the beach instead of the city. There was a good chance, however, it would lead them elsewhere. One of the few details they did know was what they would have to pursue weapons smugglers… presumably to discover a larger cache of arms that would, without intervention, be headed soon for opposition groups.

Soanne Beach was a large place, though, which didn’t make it immediately apparent where they were meant to go exactly. It was easy enough to guess, though, that the place was already under the watch of Army Intelligence and that they’d be found by the right people soon enough.

“Well, here’s the beach,” Ki-young Rah said, parking the Intelligence-provided car and looking ahead, to the crashing of the waves against the sand. Would have been nicer if the sun was out, but for the most part, it was cloudy today… waves seemed violent enough, too. “Guess they’ll find us around here.”

Kostya, however, didn’t look intimidated by the waves that were just in front of them beyond the beach, which itself was directly in front of the road that they’d just parked along. “And if they don’t show up soon enough, I might just go for a swim instead…” she muttered - rather fitting for someone who’d grown up around the warmest port in Vojvodea.

"It's tempting.." Hurlanni agreed, nodding. "I'm certain this next job will be worthwhile, however..."

“Last one made the news,” Kostya pointed out. Though, the mafia had largely received the credit for it. It was just one of the downsides of working under the radar like this… someone else was always able to take the glory. “I’d hope we do it again with this one.”

As the group climbed out of the car, Kostya lingered behind and stepped out of her regular clothes to show a bikini that she had worn underneath. It would have been more fitting apparel if the sun was showing today, but it showed off her athletic figure regardless and if they did go for the water, it’d keep her main set of clothes from getting wet. She’d follow after the other two members of the group right afterwards, running to catch up as she hopped from the pavement to the sand of the beach. “And at least I have an excuse to wear this…”

This warranted a chuckle from Hurlanni, the Maturochi mercenary taking a moment to bask in the warm air, eyes set on the horizon of waves before them. "Not unlike home. The Gulf gets even warmer in the summer, though.."

“You get used to the cold,” shrugged Kostya… her own country was much further north and it showed in the weather, though in her hometown, swimming was much more possible than it was in the northern ports where icebreakers weren’t an uncommon sight.

"It is inevitable," Hurlanni agreed. "I've been to the Mare Tempestas. I've seen how things can get when they fall below zero..."

“Can’t relate,” Ki-young chuckled. Sangju City was further south, though that wasn’t the only reason it was warmer than the mainland. “All the cars and such tend to keep Sangju pretty warm.”

As he spoke, he looked around the beach - probably for the person that they were supposed to meet. They hadn’t been given details, really, they had just been told it was someone from the admiral’s guard. Which could mean a lot of things, ranging from someone in intelligence to someone from the Army or Navy. The guard itself, after all, was just made up of others who had been reassigned to a new position. However, one person who was a bit further down the beach on a somewhat isolated section of it did stand out. “That kind of looks like the guy we met before… Martino,” Ki-young pointed out.

Naturally, it was enough to garner the Maturochi mercenary's attention. Carefully, he observed, eyes scanning for traps. He had his reasons to be paranoid — perhaps it was to do with his past — but the fact he carefully followed behind Rah seemed indication enough he knew they were in the clear.

“May as well go up to him, looks like he’s also noticed us at this point,” said Kostya, following after their leader as the other man further down the beach turned and started approaching them in turn. As they closed the gap between each other it was apparent that this was indeed the man they believed, the one they had spoken to before at the airport and then at the castle. This time, however, their contact was dressed casually in a floral print shirt rather than wearing a military uniform.

“Ah, there you all are,” Martino said, looking them over. “I have the information for your latest task… unfortunately, there’s not a file’s worth of intelligence this time. I can tell you all what Intelligence is aware of, however.”

This seemed to warrant Hurlanni's curiosity. "A simpler job? Or, perhaps.. a challenge?"

“A bit of both. The route you’ll have to take on this one is rather straightforward but know that the opposition is more capable than just some student protesters. As you’ve been told, tomorrow’s mission has to do with the flow of weapons into the country. Most of them are coming in through Vesperanze, and smugglers use a mothership located further out before deploying speedboats to carry their load the rest of the way to the beach. From there, they carry weapons off to a hidden location for distribution to opposition groups… this is likely the reason the police have reported increased in the amount of armed dissident forces,” Martino explained.

“However…” he paused, letting the first part of the overview sink in. “We also believe they have foreign help. Vibria supports the former government of this country and has been at odds with us ever since the regime change. Intelligence’s investigations have revealed possible links between a Vibrian cell and the arms smugglers, and think they may have been involved in setting up the smuggling route. In particular, we’ve seen known Inteligencia Nacional agent Yoselin Asturia in the area and think that she’s likely connected to this. She’s very capable from what all investigations have said… specializes in marksmanship, reportedly has anti-fascist leanings that mean this kind of theoretical mission might be right up her alley.”

Vibrian agent Yoselin Asturia.

Martino reached into his pocket and took out a picture which wasn’t entirely clear but displayed someone who was believed to be an enemy operative - the picture had been taken in the streets, the subject of the image unaware of it being taken. “This is Asturia… or someone that was seen in Soanne who looks enough like her to convince Army Intelligence.”

"Quite the looker. Wanted dead, or alive?" Hurlanni questioned.

“You can see where the situation takes you,” Martino stated. “Capture would allow Army Intelligence to uncover more information about the Vibrian cell in the country, of which there is apparently at least one. However, the target still needs to be dealt with. If you don’t get her alive, having her dead is a better option than having her continue to cause problems for the nation… she may not be alone, in terms of having fellow operatives with her. Though, the main opposition force is believed to be lesser trained local smugglers working under Vibrian direction with inferior knowledge and weapons.”

"Mm.. we'll do what we can, then. Isn't that right?" asked Hurlanni, looking to his fellow mercenaries.

“We’ll manage another victory,” ensured Ki-young.

“Of course, taking out the enemy agent is just one objective… the main one is to follow the smugglers back to their cache and ensure that it is destroyed. To aid in this task, you have been assigned two attack helicopters of the Air Force. You’ll have to discover the location, though, by hiding and observing the smugglers and then following them along the road. There may be MANPADS located around the scene, which you should pay attention to taking out before calling for air support. And of course, getting into a fight too early would be a bad thing for your odds of finding the location of the cache,” Martino concluded. “I believe that’s all the details…”

“Right, then,” muttered Ki-young, thinking it over. They still had some time for preparation and the like, the operation was a day out. It did sound like a step up in challenge, though. “We’ll spend the next day to refine our plans, I suppose.”

Nodding, Hurlanni seemed to let his peers' attitudes speak for himself. "Onto the drawing board then, I suppose..."

The night of the mission seemed to come quickly, with the smuggler landing being scheduled for late evening based on what Intelligence had been able to piece together - and the mercenaries were already at the deserted section of the beach where the landings were supposed to happen, before the smugglers could get there. This was an operation unlike the last one. Where they had relied on concealed pistols, they had real guns this time… in Kostya’s case, that meant a Vernost 64 which rested heavily in her hands as she kept herself crouched behind the shrubbery that divided the beach from the road that was just behind it. The low light conditions would help too with not getting seen.

But that didn’t mean there were zero nerves there. The plan was relatively simple. Ki-young was waiting in the car which they would need to quickly get in if they wanted to catch the smugglers as they left, while Kostya and Hurlanni were in the trenches so to speak. They weren’t expecting a gunfight to break out right away but there was a chance it would happen…

“I don’t see anything yet…” Kostya muttered under her breath, sitting up a bit more and looking over the top of the shrubbery towards the water before ducking again - maybe a bit too nervous considering the conditions. It would be pretty hard for anyone coming from the water to spot them until they were closer to the road.

"Patience is key," Hurlanni whispered, A-44 assault rifle in hand. He wasn't far from Kostya, having taken point amidst the bushes to observe for activity in the other direction.

“Just don’t like it…” said Kostya, not moving from her spot this time. “They train us to be proactive, not sit around and wait,” she added - probably referring to whatever military education she had received as a noble in Vojvodea, where the military had learned lessons in proactivity from the Sarvelian War where the country had received a reputation as scared to fight up close.

"Sharpshooters can track a target for days..." Hurlanni noted. "This is a comparatively light sentence, I'd suppose." A silence would follow as he carefully studied the scene ahead, before continuing. "..but yes, it is boring."

Kostya shrugged. “Mmm. Maybe we’ll get to shoot out of the car or something to make up for it… hoping we at least get an interesting pursuit. Might end up being pretty routine, though.”

"I'll take routine if it means I'm more likely to come out of this in one piece." Hurlanni simply replied. "I'm a soldier, not a Gundancer."

As Kostya leaned to look once again, it elicited a slight chuckle from her. “Don’t quite know what I am yet… just that I’m a fighter and not some executive… yet, anyway.”

"It's in Axaredu blood to be a soldier," Hurlanni continued, eyes still set on his rifle's sights. "And things are doing too well back home. I suppose that just means everyone else is doing their job right... but it means a boring waiting game. I decided to become a mercenary after some time in the Army. Did some odd jobs in the Mare Tempestas, jumped here and there around the Iapetic... eventually I ended up in Sangju. Curious thing how Fate works, hmm? I was half-expecting I'd find work shooting shit in Amiriyya instead."

“Guess we’re not that far apart,” Kostya said, raising an eyebrow. “On paper, they say every Vojvodean is a fighter… and there’s a little truth to it. I mean, martial arts is still a thing in school and getting the Blood Flu is still a rite of passage… but somehow I felt there wasn’t a place where I was from to do this kinda thing. I want to fight for real, y’know. Not sit behind a desk or something away from everything happening, ‘cause of my last name.”

"You give me the impression that nobility is more curse than blessing.." Hurlanni chuckled. "Of course, I wouldn't be entertained to have my identity dominated by a 'last name'. I'm Hurlanni... simple as that."

“It’s so-so. I know a few nobles that get right into the mix of things, leading from the front and all that, but well… my family’s kinda above that these days. They want to design the rifle, not use it in battle,” Kostya said before smirking slightly. “And hey, knowing them, they’d uh… make you take my last name if we got married… not that I’m thinking of it or something.”

"You've got a good sense of humor at least," Hurlanni grinned. "But it does bring to mind what happened that day..."

“Peer pressure?” Kostya muttered, her face turning slightly red as she went to look again, probably just to hide her face. “It… was fun, though.”

"I don't think it'll be the last time.." Hurlanni trailed off momentarily, before continuing. "..that we find ourselves in the admiral's presence, that is."

“Oh,” Kostya said, sounding almost disappointed at the clarification, though it wasn’t exactly something she would admit. She did seem to notice something looking out at the waves, however. “Something strange I’m seeing with the waves… might just be a shadow but it looks like something.”

The approach of the smugglers.

"Mm.." Hurlanni squinted, observing the silhouette in the distance. "They lack subtlety, even in their subtlety... Vesperanzan narco-subs are in an entirely different ballgame. It looks to me like they're approaching just along our bearing."

“Yeah, it’s definitely them,” Kostya was able to say as the boat drew closer, turning from a shape in the shadows to one that they could both spot clearly. She lowered herself down once again, aiming to avoid being seen as the small craft continued its run up to the shore, powered apparently by one motor towards the back. A second craft emerged from the shape of the waves behind it, too, carrying with it more smugglers - or possibly foreign agents - and more packages. “Another one…” she muttered after peeking from their concealment again.

It seemed there were four smugglers per boat, and both of them had soon enough hit the shore and the crews were quickly jumping out and picking up their cargo. Another person drove a van from the road to the beach, showing that the operation wasn’t just there, but that was further down the road… not close enough for the person who had gotten in the van to have noticed the mercenaries in the bushes. With the van were a pair of motorcycles which followed, though it was a little harder riding them in the sand, perhaps acting as escorts of sorts for the van.

However, the plan of waiting around for the smugglers to get going and follow them was interrupted, because it looked like someone within the enemy group had spotted them. There was a shout in Zaratian and only moments later, there were shots raining on their location.

Bullets rained down around Kostya in specific and she realized one of the shots fired had been from the marksman rifle of the Vibrian agent they had been warned of earlier… Yoselin Asturia. The round was large enough to explode the sidewalk curb which it impacted rather than hitting Kostya herself, and that was enough to send a shock through her… as regular rifle rounds kicked up sand in front of her as they fell short, which was alarming enough in its own right. She reacted by getting lower, not daring to expose herself with firing back just yet, instead letting the bullets sail over her head… while her eyes scanned the area around the road for some place to move to.

"They don't seem too fucking happy!" Hurlanni exclaimed, bullets whizzing past as he rolled aside to take aim. Firing away with haste, the bullets would be enough to briefly give the enemy pause — and, as it became readily evident in the half-seconds that followed, he'd managed to drop one of the smuggler, viscera scattered across the beach under the moonlit night.

"Falling back!" He announced, hurriedly scrambling for one of the roadside cars in the brief pause he'd given the enemy with his attack.

Kostya moved also, but stopped between her starting point and the car that she was making her destination, raising her Vernost 64 rifle and sending three of the heavy rounds down range with one pull of the trigger before she was on the move again, not watching to see the result of the gunshots she’d just fired and sliding low to join Hurlanni behind the car… while she didn’t see it with her own eyes, she did manage to hit the Vibrian accomplice of the main agent they had been warned about, just about taking the agent’s left hand off and causing a break in the firing from Yoselin while she knelt to examine her downed comrade. They couldn’t capitalize on that right away, however, because the bullets were still coming.

Turning and facing the beach once again, Kostya leaned to put herself in a position to shoot. But if they wanted to hit her, they’d have to hit her in the side since she wasn’t showing much from behind cover. With one of the gunmen down and one of the Vibrian agents out of the fight to check on the injured one, there were two others still shooting, one of them missing widely thanks to lacking training and the other one hitting one of the headlights of the car that Kostya was taking cover behind, a near miss that she could nearly feel - or at least she could feel the glass from the headlight as it exploded and some of the pieces went in her direction.

“Son of a bitch…” she muttered, standing up briefly to fire another burst - this time three pulls of the trigger in semi-automatic rather than letting her gun do it for her, and dropping back behind the vehicle to cover herself as the man she’d returned fire at collapsed with a shot to the leg, not dead yet but also not able to go anywhere immediately after the injury. And also not able to fight very well at all.

Swearing under his breath, Hurlanni peered from cover once more, firing away at the smugglers below. It was as if his move had been an expected one, however — none were fleeing for cover this time. The muzzle flash came... and Hurlanni thought no more.

CRACK

The mercenary hit the ground unceremoniously, rifle falling from his hands. They'd been cast into a situation they clearly hadn't prepared for... they lacked the numbers, and now they were one down.

“Fuck…” muttered Kostya, taken by surprise after not expecting such a thing to happen right now… before the fight had even gotten intense, so to speak. She’d expected a skirmish once the bullets started flying, sure, but not a death on their side already. And it was enough to… panic her, to cause her to pop up immediately to counter fire from the same position as last time, in hopes of taking out the one who had just shot her colleague. In doing this, however, she managed to get herself shot in the left arm through her lack of caution, the pain causing her aim to swiftly drop before she could fire off rounds of her own…

Seemed like whatever could go wrong was going to go wrong with this day. They had gotten discovered, and now both of them had been shot, one of them dead because of it and the other in a bad position to carry on with the mission… as she dropped lower to the ground in response to getting shot, her teeth gritted in pain in the process, she braced her gun against the ground since her left arm currently wasn’t usable for the purpose and put five bullets further down the beach, aiming for her previous target and managing to take the Avarecian smuggler by surprise. Probably had thought she was going to be down for a lot longer thanks to the injury, and he’d eat a bullet to the chest for that wrong assumption.

But that didn’t do anything to resolve what had already happened, of course. She was still shot, her teammate was still dead, and the walk between here and the car with Rah at the driver’s seat seemed like forever… however, it seemed like her boss knew that it was a good idea for them to get out of here at this point, and she looked up to witness the car turning around from the parking spot and accelerating towards her before coming to a stop, with the driver firing a suppressive burst of submachinegun fire out the window before reaching to open the door on the passenger side.

“Can’t just leave…” Kostya muttered through pain - despite the fact that she couldn’t use her left arm at the moment and her eyes were watering from the pain of the injury. She wasn’t in much condition to continue fighting, but they had already sunken a lot into this mission, and taken a major loss because of it… didn’t seem like they should just leave now, but the alternative was perhaps worse.

“You’re not in any state to keep going,” warned Rah, gesturing for her to get in… something that she couldn’t argue much with, especially considering there were still active enemies in the area. And if she couldn’t use her weapon properly… she knew she didn’t have much of a chance at making a difference and completing the mission without getting herself killed. She finally nodded and climbed in, as Rah stepped on the gas before she could even set her rifle down and pull the door shut, sliding roughly around the corner as bullets filled the car doors with dents and holes from the last three or so members of the enemy formation.

“I wonder…” she muttered under her breath as Rah accelerated and sirens approached from the distance, coming from the opposite direction. “If it would have been better if I just stayed home…”

It was one of those days where it was easy for her to question everything she’d ever decided to do, while trying to find where everything had went wrong.

by **Tangaliro** » Sun Feb 23, 2020 4:39 am

S1E1
_{ALL UNDER HEAVEN A.E. 251}

It is just another morning in the hall of the Imperial Court, where the future of the nation was decided by those who grasps the country in their hands. In it, there is one who may soon float and ascend to the top of powers, and many who may sink into the pile of cold dead bones the victor stands firmly on top of.

Gongsun Sheng stands as one in this court, but on which side does he belong?

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

All Under Heaven A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 1
"In Name of the Heaven and Earth"

Great Zhu Empire
Murmere 6, 251 AE
9:30 AM Imperial Standard Time

__________________________________

“上朝!” On accord of the speaker, the guard yelled and rang the giant copper bell in front of the Zizheng Yuan’s meeting room. This is the daily signal that informs the many councilmen of the Imperial Court’s “Advisory Council”, or Zizheng Yuan, the parliamentary body of the Great Zhu Empire, or as they would call themselves in pride or perhaps arrogance, the Celestial Zhuese Sinican Empire, that their work for the day was to commence. As the giant steel door which was filled with engravings about the nation’s history opens wide before them, the 462 councilmen had flooded into the courtroom in a slow, but orderly fashion.

---==============---

Gongsun Sheng.

Among them was Gongsun Sheng, governor of Jiaozhou. The state had prospered under his reign — with particular altruistic innovative policies as No Child Left Behind and the Jiaozhou Historical Location Registry garnering interest among his fellow councilmen. A member of the Xianzheng Dang, Gongsun was regarded as one of the rising figures within the Party. Among his more controversial proposals was TianNet, which posited the concept of a centralized national information system, not unlike Maturoch's NooSpace — one that would be carefully maintained and regulated by organizations regulated by the government. He had implemented similar concepts in his own state, much to the disapproval of the more libertarian governors, who viewed the additional necessary taxes to sustain such a system as tyrannical on his own part as governor. They were petty rabblerousers, of course, who stood in the path of the Celestial Empire's peaceful rise to greatness.

The Empire's many expeditions into the barbarian territories had seasoned Gongsun in his youth into a forward thinker — his exploits as an officer had certainly predicted his innovative thought process as an administrator.

It was the 205th Council Session of the Imperial Court. Most of the bureaucrats beside him were likely expecting the same thing he was... more discussion of bureaucratic affairs, the petty blabbering of the warhawks and the doves... perhaps the affair in San Eliseo would become a topic of prominence. A crisis of sorts had transpired in distant Armannu, capital of Maturoch — one that had seen a hired mercenary hand the daughter of the Elisean president over to the Zhu embassy. Perhaps that would be relevant. Or perhaps there would be a debate between the Vestan supremacists and those who sought to restore contact with Tsion...

Gongsun stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched the other councilmen enter the chamber. He would be certain to vote against any excessively hawkish policies, and would naturally oppose any political concessions to the Yanchu. There was a steady balance on Vesta between the three powers, a balance Gongsun perceived as necessary for the time being. The path towards the Empire's ascension was one to be walked carefully. The blind militarists in Terminus viewed war as an adventure, a part of daily life — Gongsun knew better. The Euphemians were always fools, bent on domination rather than peaceful coexistence.

These thoughts lingered on the man as he idly observed the chamber.

---==============---

Xia Chengding.

In the deepest corner of the hall, on top of the podium, the Emperor, Xia Chengding himself, sat idly on his throne, scanning on his councilmen from high above with a poker face. The emperor, in his 20s, had merely ascended to his throne last year, when the previous Emperor, Xia Zhongxin, or by his posthumous name, Zhu Gongdi (The Fair Emperor of Zhu), decided that he was too old to uphold his responsibility for all under heaven anymore, and, under the Prime Minister’s recommendation, passed on his crown and throne to the oathsworn brother of his trustworthy and loyal minister. Unlike in other places, the emperor of Zhu was not inherited by lineage, but through an appointment process called Shan’Rang, or “Giving the Throne”, where the Emperor, on his retirement from throne, would appoint his successor. Should the Emperor be unable to do so, his loyal Imperial Court would do it for him. Xia Chengding had no blood relation to his predecessor, but Xia Zhongxin knew well enough his Prime Minister did not fool him for personal interests when he first saw him.

---==============---

Teng Wande.

Xia Chengding’s oathsworn brother, his recommender and the acting Prime Minister of the Empire, Teng Wande, sits confidently beside the Emperor. Eyeing his colleagues with a subtle smile on his face. The man was three Vestan years older than his oathsworn little brother, his facial feature distinct from the commoners of the country. The man is a Yuren, a people of Euphemian descents within the Empire, their ancestors were former POWs who fought bravely among the ranks of the much respected Zhu Gaozu when he rose up in rebellion and freed the people of Zhu from their tyrannical overlords. During a battle, Zhu Gaozu was saved at the sacrifice of many among these people in an ambush. In gratitude to the courageous act, the Yuren had remained a much respected component of the Zhuese society. They may originate from the same root with their counterparts in Terminus, but ultimately, they were different people.

Teng Wande was of a different party from Gongsun, he belonged to the Tongpao She, a political party formed by business entrepreneurs and well-off rural gents of the Empire. However, the difference in party did not hinder his agreement with Gongsun’s ideas. Frankly speaking, it was arguable whether he should be viewed the same with the rest of the Tongpao Society, as it had long been rumoured that the man was in quarrel with parts of the Tongpao Society over issues such as the Yanchu League, and even went to the length to threaten purging them in private.

Setting aside his background and viewing him solely by his rule, the reforms he pushed in his reign may be controversial to many, but his loyalty to the Empire and the Emperor was questioned by none. Teng Wande ruled the country with an iron but fair fist, but treated his subjects with dedication and respect. He was a man with deep thoughts that few could see through, but at least on the surface, he was a patriot with a strong dedication to his country and people.

All seems to be in order, Gongsun silently noted. It would perhaps be wise to propose, once more, the Golden Belt Initiative to expand the Empire's trade. Various western governors had come to be pivotal allies in this plan, particularly Xu Guangliang of Chengzhou, Cheng Ziqing of Shangzhou and Qin Yuande of Jianzhou. Gongsun perceived trade as a vital component to the Celestial Empire's peaceful rise, a pivotal matter that would be an absolute necessity to establish the state's image as a credible, respectable entity abroad — and generally sow peace in the Iapetic by beneficial consequence.

---==============---

Gongsun Cheng.

The spokesperson of the Zizheng Yuan, Gongsun Cheng, took a glance at his watch, then scanned across the room at the seats. Once he decided that the council was ready, he turned back, bowing to the Emperor and Prime Minister, signifying that it was about time. While bearing the same family name with Gongsun Sheng, Gongsun Cheng was from a different lineage, perhaps a distant relative of Sheng at best. There was nothing much to note of him at the moment, but he was well reputed for his integrity as a bureaucrat. That being said, the Imperial Court does not tolerate the filth that was corrupt bureaucrats. Local officials could hide their hideous acts behind the back of the Court, but once their cover was blown, there would be no escape.

The Ministry of Bureaucracy had been infamous for their relent at none in wiping the corrupted off the face of this planet, even rumoured to be going the extent of requesting help from the National Protection Depot against their prey who had sought safety overseas. After all, they were the best paid amongst the Six Departments and Eleven Directorates, and were always handpicked by the Emperor and Prime Minister themselves. It was unlikely they would ever have a motive to join the corrupt. Even now, Yang Zhongding, the brother and appointed representative of Yang Zhongqing, who was the Departmental Executive of the Ministry of Bureaucracy, was eyeing the officials in the room from his seat like a vulture on its prey.

The Emperor nodded, rising from his throne and staring into the crowd of councilmen before him. The crowd immediately followed, which he dismissed back to their seats soon enough.

“Firstly, I would like to thank all of you here for taking your time to attend the 205th Council Session of our Empire. This year, the meeting is just as vital as those that our predecessors had sat here to participate in throughout the countless years in history, no, our history. Today, we sit here, holding the future of our Empire and people in our hands, I hope, and expect, that everyone can devote the best of your thoughts and wisdom in this meeting. May our ancestors, and ultimately you, bless our Empire for a hundred thousand years. I could speak more, but let's not waste more time of our Empire over ceremonial speeches. That is all. The 205th Council Meeting of the Imperial Court is now in session.”

“Wansui! Wansui! Wan Wan Sui!!!” The crowd cried, which the Emperor gently silenced at the wave of his right hand, signalling for Gongsun Sheng to begin. Gongsun was mildly surprised — yet it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. That he would have a heightened role in this convention would be nothing short of an opportunity to allow him to aid the people and the Empire.

"To His Imperial Majesty, The Right Honourable Prime Minister, distinguished members of the Imperial Court and my fellow citizens — I extend my gratitude for being selected for the honor of commencing the 205th Council Session."

"It is the utmost comfort to return to this historic, blessed hall. Nine solar cycles ago, I first raised my hand as I was sworn in as governor of Jiaozhou. Much has changed since then — our people thrive and prosper in ways we previously could not conceive as possible. Yet, at the same time, few things change. As I stand here with you, Comrade-Servants of the Celestial Empire, I feel as if I return to fellow friends."

"To begin our most auspicious session, I bring to this hall a matter that has been discussed before — the future of the state of our nation. As we still gather the fragments of the past, fewer and further between as they may be, we slowly make our return to technological prosperity... and it presents our Celestial Empire the question of computerized information networks."

"Our friends abroad in Maturoch have tested this concept themselves — they call it NooSpace. It gives the average person unprecedented dignity and rights: the ability to access information and communicate freely — within the legal permissions of the State's framework. We have heeded this massive societal experiment with interest and caution. As those present in this hall know, I have proposed on multiple instances the centralization of local information-communication networks into a single, grander framework — a system we've decided to call TianNet."

"An example of this proposal already demonstrates the fruits of its success in my own state. Jiaozhou's InfoSpace framework has given the youth access to inalienable knowledge and education, integrated into local educational systems under my No Child Left Behind policy. Doctors can almost instantaneously access patient information, administrators and bureaucrats can catalogue and document with ease."

"What myself and fellow members of the Court propose, gentlemen, is that the Celestial Empire prepares itself for the technological inevitabilities of our future. To ignore the future and remain in the past is to fall to decadence. Our ancestors did not rise to prominence by reveling in decadent abandon, gentlemen. The root of the human condition is to struggle. Though some of you in this hall may not fully grasp the technology myself and fellow members of the Court propose, you must hold within you the understanding that we cannot guarantee our future without struggle. We must keep advancing, keep progressing — and the establishment of a secure, controlled network such as TianNet would better allow the Empire's citizens to thrive — and for our security apparatus to maintain order, control and stability across our domain."

"Additionally, I would also like to bring to attention the proposals of myself and supporting governors of the Golden Belt Initiative. To thrive, gentlemen, we must stand upon the shoulders of a successful economy. To achieve our peaceful rise, we must focus less on intimidation and more on negotiation. We do not wish to dominate all Vesta under a Sinican boot, despite what the Euphemians in Terminus would make their allies believe. We support a multipolar world, one of peaceful coexistence — and we can achieve our peaceful rise through mutually beneficial, cordial exchanges. We must walk the Emperor's Way, not the Conqueror's Way, and use our military in moderation, and in situations of necessity."

"We must present to the free peoples of Vesta the notion that there exists an alternative to fighting in Euphemian forever-wars in Tiamat. Cooperating with the Celestial Empire should not be an act of submission, but one of elevation — one of mutuality, gentlemen. The Golden Belt Initiative intends to incentivize the establishment of an economic trade framework from the Iapetic to the Gamesu. My economic specialists predict forty-eight billion in profit increases, while my calculative computers predict sixty-four. Do with this information what you must, gentlemen, but it is the belief of myself and various other members of this esteemed hall that we will only benefit from elevating our position on the world stage and abandoning petty isolation."

"Thank you." With a nod, Gongsun seated himself once more, commencing the Imperial Court's session.

The Emperor and Prime Minister nodded, they have maintained a poker face since the beginning of the session, there was not a single hint of what they were thinking inside.

The spokesperson scanned the room. Without surprise, people in the room were now busy pondering about the proposals of his distant relative. Some were engaged in silent discussion whispering in the ears of each other, some were lost deep in thought alone, while the rest had immediately come up with a solid reaction, most nodded in approval, but some frowned.

One rose his hand in question.

“Yes, Junren Hui councilman Li Huaimin, what is your question?”

The retired soldier stood up, cleared his throat, then pointed at Gongsun Sheng. “So, you are saying we deal with these Terminus beasts who only know of wars and violence with flowers and gifts! H-haave you lost your miiiind?!”

Obviously, the old warhawk isn’t in full grasp of Gongsun Sheng’s ideas.

To this, Gongsun calmly shook his head. "To the contrary, my friend. A great power does not use its military like a toy. We are the bastion of civilization: not a child! I served this nation's military, just as you did — and past expeditions into the barbarian territories weigh upon my conscience as I propose these acts. We must lead by example, and make allies— not enemies. Through trade we may ensure our nation is wealthy, and through great wealth we may ensure our military is equipped in every capacity to protect the nation from threats external and internal, whatever they may be. What I propose, Comrade, is entirely in both our interests — that we regard the loyal soldiers of this Celestial Empire with dignity and respect, and not treat them as expendable assets to further every end of our foreign policy. It was once said, 'Speak softly and carry a big stick, and you shall get far'. The military, the pride of our nation, is a tool of necessity — not a children's toy! We must use it while keeping mindful of the sociopolitical consequences of war, and the myriad of alternatives that exist in any situation. Do you not view the lives of our loyal boys and girls as valuable? Gentlemen! We are no more valuable than them! If we are to rule by example, we must remember that we are not above the people. Humility is a virtue that we must uphold when we make our decisions in this hall, knowing full well our actions weigh consequences on the lives of our loyal citizens. We must not regard the backbone of our military as expendable assets, and to do that we must come to terms with the reality that war is not the first solution, but the last resort!"

The words of Gongsun Sheng had left Li speechless, he gently leaned back, sitting down. The intellectuals from the Zhulin Hui nodded in approval to his answer.

Another hand rose up amongst the people in the hall.

“Yes, Gongjin Hui councilwoman Huang Qingxin, you may speak.”

“Today, I stand here not to question, but to speak in approval to our counterpart sitting over there. For many years, our countless soldiers, entrepreneurs and politicians had fought to keep our country together, and they had done a good job at that. Yet, there is still one territory that we should have, but had never worked to unify, cyberspace. I would like to declare, on behalf of the 19 councilmen and councilwomen of the Gongjin Hui here, that we are in full support to Gongsun Sheng’s notion of to unify our territories in the fifth frontier, and we would like to appeal for our brethren of the other parties to embrace his proposal on the TianNet.”

“Very well, anyone want to express their opinion on our speaker’s proposal?”

A representative from Zhulin Hui raised his hand, expressed his approval to Gongsun Sheng’s means at diplomacy, then sat back down. As people spoke one after another, it seems that Gongsun Sheng’s proposal had caught the approval of many from the establishment and opposition alike, primarily those from the Tongpao Hui, Zhulin Hui and Gongjin Hui, which was, in itself, a sizable enough political force in the court when banded together.

And then another rose his hand.

“Yes, Wanmin Dang councilman Ma Gongqing, you may speak.”

“Mr. Gongsun Sheng, first, I must clarify, I mostly agree with your ideas on the TianNet and the direction for our future diplomacy, and have seen the success of the infospace system in Jiaozhou myself. However, upholding my responsibility as a councilman, I would like to enquire for your opinions on what kind of role our tributaries play in this massive diplo-economic blueprint that is the Golden Belt Initiative of yours.”

It was a more divisive matter — Gongsun heeded the affairs of the Yanchu tributaries with caution, though Taiping and Longxi were venerable polities. The Golden Belt proposal was, subtly, a push to knock down two birds with one stone: shifting trade away from the Yanchu League and to the western cities, the Zhu would be able to chip away at an emasculated, subdued League's autonomy in a push for eventual integration.

"They are our brethren states, without a shadow of doubt. Under one country, many systems— their right to dictating their own laws should be supported so long as they remain in accordance with the Empire's values. They are our models to the world — they tell to the world the success and prosperity that can be experienced through cooperation and collaboration with the Celestial Empire. Thusly, we should work to support their development. It is both an initiative that brings them closer to us, and aids our public image to the world. Thusly, we believe it pertinent that an inland settler initiative be established to expand the domain of Longxi. Much of Vesta's mineral wealth remains yet untamed — and we serve only to gain from the creation of more jobs through these processes."

"Through pressure and force, we tell our tributaries that we are weak and desperate — and so subtly they are coaxed away from our heavenly light. Instead we must lead by example and virtue, and show them merciful generosity that they may embrace us in time, rather than be forced to submit by some arbitrary use of brute force."

"The Empire protects. Thusly, it is our responsibility to oversee the wellbeing and stability of our tributaries, regardless of subterfuge and political conflicts." Gongsun replied.

“Your answer has cleared the fog in my mind, thank you.” Ma Gongqing nodded in approval to the answer. Several pro-Yanchu councilmen of the Tongpao Hui nodded and applauded in agreement, but others eyed Gongsun's words with suspicion.

The Prime Minister remained in his poker face, but for a moment, Gongsun Sheng could almost seem him raising his brow for the slightest. Was it curiosity, was it fascination, or was it suspicion? The only answer lies in the man himself.

“Now, are there any more questions?”

A few more raised their hands, mostly to enquire about the Golden Belt Initiative, it seems Gongsun’s blueprint for the new diplomatic initiative had grabbed the interests of many, most in approval, some skeptical.

Eventually, it comes to the time when the spokesperson could see no more hands raised for question.

“I see that all of us here are ready to make our decisions.” The spokesperson cleared his throat. “We will first decide upon Gongsun Sheng’s proposal on the TianNet. Those who support this motion, please press the blue button on the left. Those who oppose, please press the red one on the right. Those who abstain, please press the grey one in the middle. As always, your vote would be anonymous. Please land your decision now.”

And so, the councilmen had landed their decision at the press of a button, some more decisive, some more hesitant, but eventually, all 462 councilmen had pressed their buttons, as did the Prime Minister, the Emperor and the Spokesperson.

“343 on the blue, 57 on the grey, 65 on the red. The motion is passed!” The spokesperson announced. The hall was filled with applause, some less audible to others.

“Very well, the next item to be decided would be the Golden Belt Initiative, those who approves, press on the blue one, those who abstain, on the grey one, those who oppose, on the red one.”

The process repeated, but this time, everyone was a little slower.

“218 on the blue, 73 on the grey, 171 on the red. The motion is also passed!” The spokesperson announced. This time some of the applause was audibly more quiet than others, but the Emperor and Prime Minister applauded loudly enough.

Gongsun sighed in relief — this was, perhaps, the beginning of change for the better in the Celestial Empire. The culmination of years of theories and plans, all succeeding now with thunderous applause.

After the applause died down, the spokesperson tidied the documents on the table, and moved on to nod to the Emperor, asking for the next affair to address.

The Emperor nodded, and checked on the list of agendas, before standing up. “Before we continue to the next issue to address, I would like to announce on behalf of herself that our beloved Grand Chancellor, Mrs. Shen Xueqing, has applied, and been approved of her retirement from her position in the court. Throughout her years in service of the Imperial Court and the Empire’s people, Shen had devoted all her life’s power to the interests of all under Heaven, let us applaud her service here, and wish her a great post-retirement life. Today, we have her here with us, please, Grand Chancellor Shen, may we have the honour to see you speak for the one last time as the great Grand Chancellor you are.”

In applause, the old lady, with wrinkles all over her face and her hair in pale silvery white, stood up and walked to the front, bowing before the crowd.

“Thank you for your applause, your majesty and the rest in this room. As you may know, I am already 38 year old this year. While I wish to serve our country for longer, I am afraid my physical condition does not allow me to fulfill my responsibilities to the country and people for much longer. It was a great adventure, but the Imperial Seal must eventually be passed on.” Given the length of Vestan years, thirty-eight meant a far different age than that of Tsion...

Shen gently set the Imperial Seal of the Department of State onto the table before her. “It had taken a while for me and many others inside and outside of this chamber to ponder the best successor to bear this Seal. Yet, I am glad it has taken us this long, for it's proof that our country has got the talents that requires us to ponder between. Mr. Kong Chunlai, can you come forth?”

---==============---

Kong Chunlai.

The man called Kong Chunlai, with confidence on his face, immediately stood up and throttled to the front of the room, waiting enthusiastically for the moment he had waited so long for.

Gongsun watched carefully. Kong was among the ascendant figures of the party, his influence preceding his ambitious reputation. To most, he was heir presumptive to the Celestial Empire's leadership — though that wasn't to say his competitive nature hadn't earned him enemies along the way.

Shen looked at the Prime Minister, waiting for his announcement. Teng Wande ascended from his chair, facing the crowd. “With agreement from the Imperial Court, Shen Xueqing would be passing on the Seal of the Department of State to Kong Chunlai. If anyone holds any objection to the appointment, please raise your hands now.”

---==============---

Yang Zhongding.

Teng Wande waited patiently. Usually, most appointments like this one would not be met with much resistance, not a vocal one, at least. Yet, to everyone’s surprise, Yang Zhongding, who had been mostly silent so far, raised his hand.

“I object!” He stood up, voicing his objection at the top of his lung. The sudden act had certainly startled a few unsuspecting ones in the room, but to some sitting in this room, it was anticipated long enough.

“And your reasoning is...?” Teng Wande was unshaken by the sudden move of his subordinate in the Ministry of Bureaucracy, he calmly addressed the issue at hand. The Yang brothers were loyal henchmen of Teng himself, he knew if Yang Zhongding was to object here, he must be doing so with a good reason.

“Kong Chunlai is a filthy coward that cannot live up to the position so important as the Grand Chancellor!”

“H-how dare you slander me like that!” Kong Chunlai argued, his face already looking pale.

Shen Xueqing looked at the three in confusion, much like the rest. The emperor, on the other hand, sat idly on his throne, eyeing the situation with his signature poker face.

“The Ministry never accuses out of void!” Yang Zhongding raised a stack of folders high up his right hand, then stepped out of his row, throttling menacingly to the front, his eyes firmly pinned onto Kong’s.

“You fiiiilthy, corrrrrupt, sssssssspineless GIANT RODENT!!!” Yang Zhongding angrily slammed the stack of folders onto the table, the documents landed with a strong thud on the table, shaking even the heavy gold-coated seal of the Department of State on its impact. “You should be ASHAMED of yourself!”

“I don’t know what you are on about.” Kong had regained his composure, but obviously, he is now angered by the rude accusations from his counterpart in the Ministry of Bureaucracy. His right hand’s index finger poked right onto the ridge of Yang's nose, his face closing in. “That pile of so-called documents you brought with you probably contained nothing but lies. How do I know? I know for I am innocent! You better retract your childish slanders and apologize before you waste more of our time. You should resign from your post for making such a silly move and disrespecting the whole Zizheng Yuan with your chimp noises in the chamber!”

“What did you just call me!?” Yang grabbed Kong by the collar. The situation escalated quickly, the chamber quiet yet somewhat noisy with gossips and whispers. A few people, however, just stared into the quarrelling duo. The security of the room tried to separate the two, but was unsuccessful.

Bam!!!

“SILENCE!” Xia Chengding slammed his right palm onto the table before him, standing up. The wooden table bent, almost split into two to the sheer force of the slap. The chamber immediately returned to order. Yang gently let loose of Kong’s collar, while Kong slowly and carefully retracted his finger back to where they were supposed to be.

“Quarrelling and even fighting in front of the whole CHAMBER! Have you two got no decency at all!? You all should be ashamed of your acts!” Xia scolded, waving his sleeves gently before sitting back down, signalling Teng Wande to address the situation.

“I hope the emperor has spoken some senses back into you.” Teng Wande caught the signal loud and clear. “Spokesman, examine the document. Whether this is a slander or not will be decided upon evidence, both of you should be ashamed for losing your cool in front of the Court and Emperor.”

Gongsun Cheng nodded, picking up the first folder on top, picking out the documents inside one after another, reading them carefully.

“It is all transaction records,” Gongsun Cheng turned back at Teng Wande. “Seemingly between Kong Chunlai and the tributary lord Pang Qingsong of Wanglong, sir.”

For Gongsun Sheng, on the other hand, the matter was an unprecedented surprise — was this to be a public exposal of the successor apparent of the Grand Chancellor? Silently watching, he stroked his chin with curious fascination.

“What kind of transaction?”

“I do not know. The item written on these records says zoo animals, Pang Qingsong is buying from Kong Chunlai, but what could Pang Qingsong do with zoo animals? He doesn’t even have a personal zoo, let alone the rest of Wanglong. I could only assume it is a nickname for something else, but I don’t know what it is.”

He put down the first file and reached for the second, inside is a stack of letters. Kong’s face was so pale it could be compared to that of a Richelouel woman. Yang standing right next staring into his soul didn’t help either.

“It appears to be secret letters between the two. I wonder why they are not using the telephone instead.” Gongsun Cheng said, putting down one of the letters and checking on the second. “All were discussing some kind of business revolving around these so-called zoo animals.”

“Are there any hints on what such...zoo animals, may be?”

“They call them chimps. Are there even chimpanzees on Vesta? I only heard them from books. A kind of Somal,^[1] I would assume.”

“Somal?”

“That’s all I could assume.”

“Alright, go on to the third folder.”

Gongsun Cheng put down the second folder and picked up the third, inside were some clippings from newspapers, all were either recruitment advertisements for cleaners in Kong Chunlai’s office in Dongping or recent news about disappearance of young ladies in the city.
Gongsun Cheng frowned, apparent of what the information inside the folder, combined with previous infos, were trying to imply.

“Recruitment advertisements for cleaning details of Kong Chunlai’s governor's office and news about disappearance of young ladies in Dongping, sir.”

A smirk emerged on Yang’s face, while Kong seemed to regain his composure a little.

“What’s in the fourth?”

“Some investigation reports about the association of these missing ladies and Kong Chunlai’s recruitment, proof that they had at one point attended an interview at his office and their last known locations, which weren’t far from the office itself.”

The chamber has bursted into gossip, people eyeing Kong with suspicion and disgust.

“Hold on!” Kong raised his hand.

“Do talk.” Teng Wande permitted him to speak himself.

“I must say, Yang Zhongding has pulled a great trick in his malicious attack on my reputation.” A smile emerged on Kong’s face. “But this is merely a cheap trick, nonetheless.”

“If I am not mistaken, what my colleague at the Ministry of Bureaucracy is trying to imply is that I am engaged in some dirty human trafficking business with the Lord of Wanglong, but, I ask you all here, say, for such a dirty business, would you even leave behind a transaction record for people to trace it back to you? These must all be fabricated in a plot of malice to defame ME!”

“However, I must admit, I have indeed been recruiting a new cleaning detail for my office in Dongping, and that the news about these ladies’ disappearance were very much true. I must hereby condemn myself for allowing such a disgusting crime to occur within my governed territories. Yet, I swear, I cannot recall more than half of these people on the documents showing up on my interview-shit!”

“Kong Chunlai,” Teng Wande coldly stared into Kong Chunlai. “You haven’t even read the files yourself, how did you even know they weren’t there?”

“I-I just made an assumption.” Kong stuttered. “Nonetheless, none of these makes sense, why would I be leaving behind transaction records and letters if I am to be engaged in such dirty business? If anything, how did this liar here get a hold of these documents? They must all be fabricated, I am innocent!”

“...I see.” Teng Wande nodded. “However, considering your admission to your dereliction of duty in stopping human trafficking activities within your governed territories, and all these imminent controversies surrounding you, I must inform you that you are not fit for bearing the seal in your current status. Yet, the Imperial Court is ever benevolent to those who can admit to their faults. Investigations on the case will commence on my own supervision. Should you be proved innocent, you will be given a chance to mend your mistakes back in Dongping. You can trust me in the fairness of investigation, can’t you?”

“Y...yes...” Kong nodded, lowering his head so that no one could see the colours escaping his face. Yang Zhongding looked down on him in disdain.

Teng Wande turned back to the Emperor and bowed. “Is this arrangement adequate?”

“Very well.” The emperor nodded. “Mrs. Shen, I am sorry to trouble you once more, for you have already done so much for our country and people that no one deserves to ask you of favor anymore, but could you inform us of your second choice in your succession?”

“There is no trouble, your majesty. No one hoped for incidents like this to happen, but I understand.” Shen Xueqing nodded and turned back to the crowd, specifically looking at Gongsun Sheng. “Gongsun Sheng, can you come forth?”

Gongsun Sheng did not hesitate in standing up and assuming the stand — though there was little to hide his own surprise. "..It is an honor to assume this stand, Your Excellency."

“Any more objections?” Gongsun Cheng asked. No one raised a hand.

“Very well. Mrs. Shen, you may now pass on the seal.”

Shen Xueqing carefully picked up the seal, handing it to Gongsun Sheng. When Shen finally released her hand from it, Gongsun Sheng could feel the weight of the Imperial Seal of the Department of State sinking into his hands.

"I accept the promotion to the role of Grand Chancellor with humble gratitude. Comrade-Servants, I believe all of us know quite well what this morning's events present to not only this Court, but to the entire nation a dire reminder of a sickness that permeates through our institutions — that of corruption. It is a disease, gentlemen — a disease that brings even the most noble and virtuous of us to fall into decadent excess. My first act as Grand Chancellor of the Celestial Empire will be the establishment of an anti-corruption taskforce headed by the honorable Yang Zhongqing himself. I do not intend to accuse anyone — but the essential move in combatting corruption is to follow the money trail."

"Lives are at stake, gentlemen — these disappearances are our own citizens, our equals in the eyes of Heaven. We must root out corruption and underhanded practices without hesitation! We still do not remain certain that Kong Chunlai is, indeed, guilty. We must presume his innocence until these investigations can be aptly carried out. I do not wish to believe my fellow councilman is indeed guilty of such heinous accusations — but we must not let emotions cloud the pursuit of justice. Until further information emerges on this matter, I can only hope that such cruel, sick behavior is not true of a member of this esteemed Court."

Shen Xueqing nodded in approval, knowing she had passed on the Seal to the right person. As the ensuing shenanigans finally came to a close, Yang Zhongding and Kong Chunlai returned to their seats, with Shen Xueqing making her last bow before the Zizheng Yuan in her career before following suit.

“Mr. Gongsun Sheng, I hereby congratulate your ascension to the role of Grand Chancellor. May we work together to a better future for our people in the coming days and the many years beyond.” Xia stood up, congratulating Gongsun Sheng for his new promotion.

"Long live the Celestial Empire," Gongsun shook the Emperor's hand, before turning to the councilmen before him. "Wansui!"

“Wansui!”

Today would be the commencement of a new era in Sinican politics. With Gongsun Sheng being elevated to the role of Grand Chancellor, the door now lay open for him to reign and implement his visionary policies, in his noble crusade to elevate Sinica to greatness and prosperity among its Vestan neighbors.

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Somal - Somalata is the main class of lifeforms on Vesta. Native to the world, they exhibit properties not unlike Tsion's mammalia, with special fluid organs purposed towards distributing a nutrient and vitamin-rich substance known as Soma to its young.

by **Forest State** » Mon Feb 24, 2020 5:09 am

COLDHEARTED
S1E1
_{The Virus of Fear}

Corporate Security acts in many ways as one of the first lines of defense for the Commonwealth of Hampton, which itself is run in everything but name by the Royal Hampton Trading Company, a former corporation of Victoria which has increased in power ever since the Cataclysm. Stability and a calm ‘working environment’ have long been goals of the Hamptonian regime, but the stirring of the nearby tribal groups and Euphemian ethnic minority may present a challenge for the state organs… As the situation emerges, a pair of Corporate Security officers find themselves right on the frontline of what’s unfolding.

Golding, Commonwealth of Hampton
Murmere 14th, 251
4:33 PM

Golding was a sink or swim kind of place.

It was the capital of the Commonwealth of Hampton, named after the first leader of the original colony, Lord Quincey Golding, but things had changed a lot since the days when the crown was the largest power around and when the big decisions came from someone with noble ancestry. The Royal Hampton Trading Company had been the heartbeat of the colony when it was first founded… The company that employed most of the population back then and kept the economy flowing. The colony hadn’t just been established for the sake of settling, but for the sake of gathering goods using the Trading Company to send back to Tsion. And then when the link was broken, and there was no one to send the goods to… The Trading Company became the state. No longer were the resources being sent away, but kept and put back into the country as the company gained power across the board from the political fields to the military.

The city of Golding was a testament to their accomplishments and also a reminder of what life could be like here. It was modern by most standards, both glass and art deco styles mixing together in the skyline as dominating skyscrapers lined the coast and provided a sight for anyone who was coming in via sea. Some of the buildings, the corporate ones mainly, even had a neoclassical look to them - something that further proved the point that the company was indeed the government here. Most of these buildings preached the will of the company in one way or another… Sometimes they had names that were related to various subdivisions of the RHTC. There was the Hampton Energy building. The Hampton Mining Arena. The Royal Trading Company Marina Complex, by the harbor. Others were less subtle when it came to getting across the points the company wanted to get to the people.

Some of them, like many of the buildings surrounding Nik Priestly right now, simply displayed advertisements. Of course, there were many things in Golding which, while eye catching, demonstrated just how rough of a place it could be… The lights were on all night around here. The city didn’t have a sleep cycle, the offices tended to be populated at all times and the workers there slaved away at jobs that were often ‘the best available’ rather than anything they wanted to do. When the majority of the market was taken up by one employer, which was only joined by anyone else they let into the country, you took what you were given… And if the company said that the only job available for you was sitting in one of these massive offices in Golding and typing transcriptions until your hands bled, you would take it. It was the same story if they believed you were best suited to digging ditches and covering over potholes in the road, or if they believed you were most fit for anything else, really.

A lot of people were skilled enough to have freedom to choose. A lot of people weren’t. As an agent of the Department of Corporate Security, otherwise known informally and on the streets as CorpSec, Nik was simply glad that he was on the right side of the issue rather than the side that was left to take what they were given… That wasn’t to say the work wasn’t just as challenging as the person that had to dig ditches and work on the mass construction projects that had created such a memorable skyline. It was just a hell of a lot more interesting despite the challenges.

Golding is a busy kind of place…

Interesting, and often urgent, like right now.

“Target’s phone is headed for the central train station…” Nik spoke over the communications channel that linked him with his partner in the field, Shena Gardner. They sometimes worked with larger teams, but CorpSec agents tended to move in smaller numbers. The regular police could handle something that needed a large team. They, on the other hand, were the specialists that stood above the pack and handled things like this situation.

And this situation was rather time sensitive. It had started with a report sent in by an office manager who claimed to have found Euphemian extremist material with the belongings of one of his underperforming workers. Reports like this came in from time to time, but when CorpSec looked into this case, they had found more than just a frustrated employee and had instead seen someone who was planning to take action and carry out an attack on behalf of unknown contacts. CorpSec had chosen to put the man, Rhodes Peterson, under observation rather than stepping in right away. It had been an attempt to learn more about his anonymous contacts, but things were moving faster than they expected and the speeding up of the plans had forced a quick reaction from the Department.

Now, it was a race against the clock, and it wasn’t looking good for them. “I’m pursuing,” Nik continued, pocketing in his inner jacket the tablet he’d been using to track the movements of their target - an odd device, the thing had a keyboard and a screen on one surface and traded in the massive computing power that was usual for the larger Hamptonian computers which ran programs such as AI, and exchanged it for the ability to carry it on the go. The screen had been displaying a location feed which was transmitted from Peterson’s phone, but based on the location given, they were hard pressed for time to get where they needed to go.

“Fuck!” Shena cursed on the other end of the line, and Nik could hear the background audio of her picking her things up and running… The reaction was kind of fitting based on what had just been announced and where she was - since she had been on a rooftop doing overwatch of this area where they believed they would catch Peterson, she wasn’t ready to follow NIk into the underground. “Can’t get there soon enough, keep going and I’ll catch up with you if things haven’t blown by then.”

“That’s the plan,” repeated Nik, before turning his attention away from the communications device on his wrist and focusing on the running, pushing through crowds here within Golding’s downtown area. There were all sorts of people within this crowd, all of them either stepping out of the way ahead of time or finding out the hard way that when a CorpSec agent had to get somewhere, they would get somewhere… Even if it meant practically running people over on foot in the crowd to get by and get to the station where there was a likely attack plot in progress. But the people around here, they were unaware of that. They were going about their everyday ordinary lives as businessmen, street vendors, dock workers, prostitutes, and more - they had little knowledge that if they were just a little bit away from here, they would be in danger.

It was CorpSec’s job to hopefully handle this problem so they could continue to not think about it. The good employee wasn’t a scared employee, and the company cared about the work environment. To a certain extent, anyway. They weren’t about to let anyone off from hard jobs, but reducing negative environmental factors such as… Terrorism, was one way they claimed to improve the workplace experienc nationwide. They did other things such as providing various forms of relaxation for when someone wasn’t slaving away at their job, but that was all predicated on having a stable place for it to happen. Therefore, things such as Euphemian nationalist terrorism did more than just take lives - it destabilized the country at the core… Which was the other reason why the CorpSec response here was as urgent as it was.

Nik practically flew down the stairs to enter the underground tunnels itself, sliding down the railing for the last part of the large stairwell - it was a faster method than taking the escalator - and pulling out the tablet once again for a brief moment to check which platform Peterson was on before sprinting in that direction as the trains came and went as they pleased all around him. The traffic at the station did make it harder to find the target somewhat but Nik had a clear enough view from the specific info provided just earlier using the tablet… It was technology that allowed them to do many things, stopping terrorism included apparently.

The time window was closing. Spend too long running along the platform after finding the right one and the target would leave before an arrest could be made, which could spell bad consequences for their operation once Peterson accelerated his plans further in response… If the CorpSec agents were to complete the objective here, they couldn’t let him bolt.

“Corporate Security, get down!” Nik shouted out in the general direction of the target, partly for Peterson to hear and partly to get the others in the area to realize that something was going on and move out of the way. It was impossible to reach Peterson if the path was crowded by plenty of others who were going about their day with no idea about the impending danger.

“Not getting taken by you corporatofascist fucks!” the Euphemian shouted back, breaking into a sprint in the process… And forcing Nik to put all of his physical training to use as he finally drew the Lin-15 .300 caliber handgun at his side and picked up his pace, pushing around the people who hadn’t yet moved in the crowd and not letting his eyesight leave the terrorist. Well, soon to be terrorist. He hadn’t committed any acts of terrorism yet, but it was hard to believe that record would stay the same if things kept going at the same pace.

“How are things doing down here?” Shena asked over the radio line - and the ragged breaths of her rushing colleague would immediately tell her that Nik was pushing it to the limit.

“Target.... On the run. All on me, you’re not going to get here in time…” Nik said through the rushing, before getting close enough to comfortably shoot without hitting a civilian. Though, there was still a chance of that. The margin of error was higher in comparison, but not high enough that it was entirely safe.

Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. Nik fired off the first shot but was thrown off and surprised to see that Peterson had a pistol of his own and was suddenly dumping rounds in his direction with no regard for civilians - which gave him an advantage, because at the moment, they might as well have been surrounded as civilians. “Fuck,” Nik cursed under his breath, ducking behind someone riskily, not intending entirely to use the man as a shield but taking an action that had the same effect. But while the average person was at more danger due to the ducking and weaving of Nik, it could be argued in a cold way that he was more important than them.

There’d be more deaths than from a shootout if he failed at his task to stop Peterson in time.

The words from his opponent indicated that perhaps Nik was too late and nothing that he did was going to close the gap between them and prevent the explosives from going off, however. “This is for the corporate war against Hestana! And for Fern!” the man shouted… Words that surely did indicate that Nik had shown up too late. Realizing this, the CorpSec agent brought himself to a complete stop, skidding and tripping slightly as, with anyone else that realized what was happening, he moved back… Sure, it could be considered running away from the task. But at this point, the task was impossible.

Live to fight another day was a good proverb to live by. At least, when the alternative was dying at the hands of a terrorist while on an impossible mission to stop the attack from happening.

The last gift of a troubled employee.

BOOM!

Even after moving back, Nik was thrown off his feet along with just about everyone else next to him… And the passage of time seemed affected. It was like it was slower and faster at once, the kind of feeling that came from drifting in and out of consciousness in the early morning before getting up, where each minute felt like it was accelerated but it was also easy to stop paying attention for one moment and to look at the clock the next and find out that another fifteen minutes had gone by. In other words, on the ground here in the train station, the agent had little idea of anything, much less what the time was or how much time had passed since the Euphemian had reached into his jacket and pressed a detonator button.

“Nik…”

“NIK!”

Eventually, the specific name was able to draw Nik out of his unplanned rest. His name in specific, being said a number of times by a female voice which apparently belonged to the figure standing over him… His partner. Her face came back to him after a couple of moments of blinking, as well as the concern on it. “I thought for a moment that you were one of the ones with the dead…” Shena said, offering him a hand which he’d quickly take, accepting her help as she pulled him up off the ground.

Standing was still shaky, however. The shockwave from the blast had been no joke - if Nik had been closer to the site of the blast, he realized, his organs probably would have been liquified by it.

“It was a good thing we were running late… I wouldn’t have made it out otherwise. I assume the guy’s dead too? Had the bomb on himself?” Nik asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a look at the scene around - and there was carnage. One of the trains had a large hole in the side… The one that Peterson had been standing next to. On the ground, bodies laid around, some of them dead and some of them waiting for paramedics. The few paramedics that were already on the scene were overworked trying to handle everyone and get to the most injured victims first, but they wouldn’t be able to handle it all themselves. There were sirens approaching in the distance. Of course there were. This was an emergency not just of local significance but national importance. Soon enough, the TV cameras would be here too…

Nik had the feeling they’d have to help the Corporate Police in regulating those cameras before the people ended up with a mass panic on their hands. Because in a society like this where there was an emphasis on living a relaxed and productive life, panic over something like terrorism was a virus… Part of the disease of fear. That disease was one of the tenets of the most popular belief system in the state, the one that Nik himself was a part of, Pasitheism. Fear, the faith said, was one of the obstacles to finding inner calm.

Sirens approach in the distance.

It was pretty damn hard to have an ounce of inner calm right now, amid the sights and sounds of death.

Even harder than it usually was for someone in CorpSec.

“Yeah. There’s not going to be a body to look over for leads,” said Shena, taking a deep breath as she joined Nik in taking a look around. “Ugh… I don’t want to spend any more time around here before I end up getting committed to mandatory psych care… Fucking ugly scene, this is.”

“We’ll be better next time,” Nik said flatly, not showing as much outward frustration as his colleague but indicating from his tone that he was frustrated with the outcome too. Probably more than her, because unlike Shena, he had been the one with a chance to stop this. “Let’s head back above ground, I think we’re going to need to help corral the press a bit.”

“You think we’re going to get called in and have to talk to some brass about this?” Shena asked while she followed, keeping a swift pace and not yet tucking away her own Lin-15… Just in case the terrorist had been operating as part of a cell with other nearby members, rather than as a lonewolf like it seemed.

The boss at Department Seven.

“You mean someone like me?” asked a third voice as they emerged from the top of the stairwell and into the light once again, finding themselves standing not far from the one and only Chantelle Spears, the head of their Department Seven and someone who could provide both great expertise as well as frustration when she decided to be a doting boss rather than taking a hands off route. “I think you will have to speak to someone about this, yes. You two were there to witness the most memorable terror attack in… How many years?”

“Hey, I didn’t witness it. Just showed up once the smoke was already clearing,” Shena said. “Damn my planning…” she added under her breath. If she hadn’t been on overwatch, she would have been able to make an approach on the target with Nik and maybe would have had more success in stopping what had happened.

“You were still one of the closest agents on the scene when it happened… And as far as I know, the only one outside of your partner here to witness the immediate aftermath. Don’t think you’re going to get out of giving your reports. Or the psych care,” Chantelle replied dismissively, shaking her head.

“Thought CorpSec was looking for natural born killers. Y’know, people to do the dirty work without breaking,” Nik scoffed, not one to let something like this keep him down for long either.

His boss, however, was less than amused. “You’re still getting off easier than any civilian in the area would. You know the drill… Report into the facility, talk to the people they want you to talk to, and then get back on the case. Even CorpSec isn’t above everything.”

“I’m sure if there were another emergency you wouldn’t make us go to the place-”

“Maybe that’s the truth but the fact of the matter is we have almost no leads on this thing right now and we’re going to have to do a deep search of the guy’s apartment to find out anything more than we already know… He’s dead now, so there’s no obstructions to it. Go to the facility right now and you’ll probably be back before we finish pulling the findings,” Chantelle continued, before gesturing to the open door of an unmarked police car which was apparently waiting for them. “But based on the nature of the attack and the circumstances we do believe that the Hestanans are at least partly responsible for this.”

She paused, turning and starting to walk towards the car while the two younger agents followed in tow, unable to say much over her talking. “Of course, you two were the ones that were actually there, so your account is going to be… Necessary in figuring out the truth behind what happened. I know it’s going to feel like a cross examination, but look at it this way. How many other people get a chance to make up for their fuckup with the information they gained from it?”

It was a scathing remark but it wasn’t exactly wrong. They’d had one goal and they managed to mess it up, resulting in at least a hundred people dead. The actual count couldn’t be determined yet but it was definitely higher. The only question anyone was raising was how much higher.

“And be cooperative enough for it and I’ll think of buying the both of you drinks,” the department head added, showing that despite her bureaucratic title, she wasn’t that far off from being an agent of the field herself. Some habits died hard. Even when one had moved up and traded in guns and handcuffs for phone calls and paperwork.

“You sure do have a way with words, boss…” muttered Nik, keeping his head down as the press assembled outside of the train station entrance and police corralled them away in the background. They weren’t concerned with the agents, however. No, pictures of them wouldn’t make for headlines. As the chaos of the scene continued in the background, Nik and Shena followed their boss into the back of the dark police sedan, which pulled off as soon as the doors were closed.

Apparently, they had just been pulled into something more important than themselves or anything they’d done in the past with this job…

by **Tangaliro** » Sun Mar 01, 2020 4:52 am

S1E2
_{ALL UNDER HEAVEN A.E. 251}

The world is ever changing, like how a planet would always orbit its sun. Following Gongsun Sheng’s ascension to power comes new responsibilities, that is, the future of the country to guide. Together, the trinity of the Empire, Xia Chengding, Gongsun Sheng and Teng Wande, shall take their next steps to the next turning point of history for the Empire and this planet altogether.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

All Under Heaven A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 2
"The Way of the Heaven Stays Consistent"

Great Zhu Empire
Murmere 7, 251 AE
9:30 AM Imperial Standard Time

__________________________________

Xia Chengding and Teng Wande waited patiently in front of the Xinqing Palace, or the “Clear Mind Palace” by literal meaning. The Xinqing Palace is the Zhuese Emperor’s residence during their reign. Since the founding of the Empire, countless people who had, on different level, laid the framework to the Empire today, had taken their stay in the Palace. Today, they were here waiting for Gongsun Sheng, there were a few things which they need to discuss with their new colleague from the Department of State before they bring it to the Standing Committee of the Zizheng Yuan, which is, by nature, a smaller section of the Zizheng Yuan elected to represent them in the handling the country’s legislative and policymaking affairs while others are away in the rest of the year.

---==============---

Longzhi Motors Corporation LQ-195

Gongsun Sheng's own arrival would be preceded by the approach of a motorcade, black Longzhi Motors Corporation LQ-195 escorted by a modest complement of two security vehicles. Gongsun Sheng preferred not to announce his presence with extravagant fanfare — such would be contrary to his ideals. Passing security, the motorcade came to a halt before the palace grounds, the Grand Chancellor emerging as the passenger door opened.

Approaching the two gentlemen, Gongsun Sheng offered a light bow. "I apologize for any delays. I have been attending to the countryside... the One Village, One Product Movement is an honorable initiative I have sought to endorse. How have the Heavens been treating you, gentlemen?"

“Knowing that our nation is in safety and our people in prosperity, the Heavens had treated me well, at least.” Xia Chengding returned the bow, Teng Wande followed. “Do not worry, my friend, you are just on time for this meeting.”

Xia Chengding pointed his right hand to the front door of the main building, inviting them to head inside. “This isn’t the place to talk, please, come in. The place may not be as fancy inside, but it will do.”

With a nod, Gongsun Sheng followed the men inside, passing the guards that flanked the grand doors of the palace.

Contrasting the fancy look on the outside, the inside of the palace was humble in comparison. There were no decorations besides for a few calligraphy works left over from the previous Emperors or of Xia Chengding himself, a few pots of plants and the portraits of past Emperors overlooking the room, as if they were watching on the happenings inside the room and supervising their successors. The room was otherwise mostly vacant, with only a few old, basic wooden furniture inside. People say that even the most humble of rooms would look good if it was inhabited with a man of admirable morals, from this, it could be said that the Emperor was either very confident of his morality, or were simply pursuing an ascetic lifestyle. The two possibilities were not mutually-exclusive, though.

Gongsun Sheng seated himself opposite his peers, speaking up. "The humility of this place has always reflected the noble, selfless spirit of the Celestial Empire. What do you wish to discuss within these hallowed halls?"

Teng Wande took out a small stack of documents from his briefcase, putting them on the table as he sat down beside Xia. “There are several matters which we need to discuss and address, but the first one I am to present would be more pressing.”

Noting the documents before him, Gongsun Sheng took note of a photograph of a girl — specifically, that of Valora Cortez, daughter of the former Elisean president, Valter Cortez. "Hm. What of the 1st of Murmere Incident in Armannu?" He questioned, rubbing his chin. "She is still in the custody of our embassy in Maturoch, is she not?"

“Indeed, such is why it is a pressing matter.” Teng Wande nodded. “I guess it is needless to say that a lot of people are going after her head. If we do not decide what to do with her, and by extension, San Eliseo soon, it would only be a matter of time before some braindead desperados make an attempt on our embassy for the god-knows-how-much bounty put on her life.”

"The Kingdom of Vesperanze is quite displeased with the fact she still lives," Gongsun Sheng agreed. "but she is still but a child. She deserves no suffering for affairs and circumstances beyond her own control... nobody does. I believe we should expedite her relocation to the Celestial Empire with haste — it would prove beneficial in demonstrating to the Eliseans that we stand with them, and to the smaller nations of the world that we care for all in selfless benevolence. Furthermore, it would prove a sufficient display to the Euphemians and their Vesperanzan lapdogs that we will not tolerate harming the innocent. What are your stances on the matter, gentlemen?"

“Well, the Vesperanzans had not only once asked for our extradition of the gir-”

Xia stood up. “Our Empire had stood between heaven and earth for centuries, we have averted countless odds and fought against countless evils that dared stand before us. The child had endured dearly burdens that are not supposed to be put on children of her age already, if we cannot save even a child like her, then what are we different from a joke? The Vesperanzans had betrayed all principles and morals against a child that was not even prepared to fight back, we have nothing to negotiate with them.”

“Well said indeed, brother.” Teng Wande agreed. “I would say, we should not only relocate her to safety with haste, but also relocate her with publicity. A fleet as escort, I shall propose. We will show to these filths of a man that the Empire will not bend to their despicable demands.”

Gongsun stroked his chin. "While I agree, I worry that extravagant moves on the geopolitical stage may only invite the Euphemians to do the same. The girl... did she reach the embassy on her own? It seems a daunting feat to elude so many assassins, seemingly effortlessly."

“From her own words, she did not manage all of these on her own, rather, a lone gundancer, basically Maturochi governmental mercenaries, helped her through all of this and escorted her to our embassy.”

Gongsun quietly nodded, as if in understanding. "I see." He paused momentarily, before continuing. "Nevertheless, the act of how we carry out this extraction is a matter that demands great thought and care. We must remember that a single Euphemian space destroyer is very much capable of killing all of us in this room, should they so desire it. For the time being, our opponents carry the decisive advantage of space supremacy, and thus we cannot act with that in mind. I am no pessimist — rather, to the contrary. I believe we must measure our reaction adequately to avoid provoking the Euphemians this early. Thus, we must consider how this fleet must be postured that it will project equal parts power while avoiding the encouraging of a similar military display near our shores, on the part of the Euphemians. War with them is something none of us desire, and I am certain it is an affair none of the brave and women serving our military wish, either. We must be mindful of the preservation of the peaceful status quo between the Vestan powers, for the time being, if we are to achieve our peaceful rise."

“Your points are valid indeed.” Teng Wande agreed. “We shall take a look into expanding our ability to fight in space later. As for now, I have a middle-ground proposal.”

“Sending our fleet right into the Tiamat region or Maturoch would definitely be an over-aggressive show of force indeed. Yet, we do not have to send our fleet all the way there to deliver our message.”

Teng Wande laid out a map of the region on the table, signalling his peers to take a look.

“We can send our fleet here, as a middle point of some sort. The evacuation of Valora Cortez would be done via an aircraft and escorted by our own handpicked men. Even though Maturoch is our ally, we cannot ensure that everyone within their ranks is trustworthy besides for that one particular gundancer who escorted her prior. Yet, evacuating via the sky poses its own risks. Should the Vesperanzeans be mad enough, it is very much possible they would try to intercept the evacuation process by shooting down our aircraft. Such is why there is a need for the fleet. For that the longer our VIP stays in the air, there are more windows they have to make an attempt.”

"It is a wise notion," Gongsun agreed. "but I am uncertain whether the Vesperanzans would make such a gamble. Their success would mean the creation of a martyr, and with it a reinvigorated resistance movement that would further strain an already terrible logistical situation, with their three-sided civil war. I perceive the fleet not primarily as a defense for the escort, but as a means to demonstrate that the Celestial Empire's words are not solely backed up by Tongbao coins and flowers."

“Your direction of thought is a wise one.” Teng Wande agreed to Gongsun’s interpretation of the fleet’s role. “Nonetheless, I suppose the two purposes do not contradict each other. I seriously doubt if the Vesperanzans, be it out of guts or practical considerations, would go that far to attempt shooting down our aircraft. Yet, it is better safe than sorry. Our fleet would act as a messenger and a guardian, a plan to kill two birds in one stone.”

"Indeed." Gongsun nodded. "It is an advisable contingency, regardless. I would not put it past the Euphemians to do what their lapdogs lack the gall to commit."

“I guess we have reached an agreement over the matter.” Teng Wande said. “Do you have anything to say about this, Chengding?”

“You know I trust you well enough to make the decision. I am in agreement with you both.”

“Very well.” Teng Wande nodded. “Before our VIP can reach our aircraft, however, it is unavoidable that we would need to escort her through the urbanity of Maturoch to the nearest airport, where she could then be transferred and extracted from the air. If the Vesperanzeans and their desperado army wants to make an attempt, that would be where they try. We must plan thoroughly to make sure no loose-end could lead to the death of the child at the hands of these cowards.”

"With certainty," Gongsun said. "If we are to lead by example, we must first show to the world that we are moral and just."

“Assembling an escort detail that is loyal without questions and competent enough to fend off assassins is not hard. Yet, assembling an escort detail that knows of the local situations and the routes would be a trickier matter. The simplest way is to find a local, but under the current situation, there is none we can trust with full certainty...” Teng Wande pondered.

"I believe the answer is simple enough." replied Gongsun Sheng. "The Gundancer responsible with protecting Cortez's life should be entrusted to do it again."

by **Turmenista** » Sun Mar 01, 2020 9:36 pm

S1E1
_{THE QUICK RUNDOWN}

Welcome to the Interstellar Marine Corps. You and four other soldiers of noted performance have been selected for special operations in Vesta's orbit and on the moon. Before such operations may commence, however, Command wants to give you a brief refresher on zero-gravity and low-gravity combat in a little trial by fire....

"Interstellar Marines"
"Act 1 - The Quick Rundown"

FSS Admiral Halloran (SDDGN-17)
Admiral Morton-class Space Destroyer (Nuclear Powered)
Outer Space
Murmere 5, 251 AE
6:00 PM Universal Surface Time

__________________________________

One positive thing that Nicole Price could pick out about trips in orbit and in space was that it gave a lot of time to the mind. Only in the vast expanse of space, when one was seemingly isolated out in the vast black void, when the only thing keeping one from certain death was a few millimeters of cloth or a meter or so of hull plating, could she start thinking deep — both for herself and the world around her.

---==============---

Nicole's career was fast tracked practically from birth. After graduating with high honors from the Officer Candidate School, she went on to earn her metaphorical wings in the Space Corps, joining the ranks of the brave and highly-trained few making up the ranks of Terminus's extraplanetary military apparatus, and qualified for piloting, driving, and engineer work.

Hours of training in microgravity and EVA conditions, marksmanship drills with various weapons, and experience with leading platoon-sized elements would promote the then-Lieutenant Price to a Captain, granting her partial command over Mirage Company, one of many Space Corps tactical units involved in operations both planetside on Vesta and the moon of Timorius. Fears of insurgency on the purple moon resulted in the creation of Orpheus Detachment, a semi-independent unit separate of Mirage Company specializing in COIN operations.

A regular trip from Vesta to its moon, Timorius, could take no more than 3 days on a ship like the FSS Admiral Halloran. Price had taken all of the necessary basic astrophysics classes both for her role as an Interplanetary Marine, and also an officer, so the numbers were all there. With sufficient fuel and maneuvering paths, a ship like the Admiral Halloran could traverse the expanse of space relatively quickly, while also remaining in orbit indefinitely.

3 days to get from Vesta to Timorius..

She looked down at her fingers, halting at one of the corridors she was currently floating down with her free hand.

...150 days to get to Tsion..or was it 300?

As it stood right now, it was every man for himself on Vesta. Terminus had no way of regaining contact with Tsion, and an irritating blend of bureaucracy and concerns of resupply dealt with any possible hopes of sending manned missions back home. It certainly was possible, but given the already volatile climate on Vesta, the colony’s interests were better off staying planetside and on the moon.

“Coming through—”

Nicole turned around and gave way to another officer floating down the corridor, who bore the rank of a silver oak leaf — Lieutenant Colonel, a name embroidered on the front of his uniform in bold black text: “LAMAR”.

“...Captain. I guess we’re both early birds when it comes to hit times, no?”

“I try to be early, sir.” Nicole admitted, a bit embarrassed by her zoned-out moment and his sudden appearance.

“No worries.” He continued down his way, with Nicole following in suit down the ship. Lieutenant Colonel Lamar suddenly took a sharp turn “downwards” (even though there was no real “up” or “down” in space) into another corridor, where an automatic door gave way to him and his subordinate.

“It’s gonna be a small bunch, but you can work with it.” Lamar warned, entering through the door first. It took a moment for the four other marines in the room to register the entry, but when they finally realized it, a red-haired marine called the room to attention. “ROOM, ATT-”

---==============---

A stern look for a stern man, Lieutenant Colonel Ben Lamar is the commanding officer of 1st Battalion, who also serves as the overseer of the new Orpheus Detachment.

“As you were.” Lamar interrupted sharply. “We’re running on a bit of a tight schedule, marines — at least, I am. For brevity’s sake, let me introduce myself: I’m Lieutenant Colonel Ben Lamar, commander of 1st Battalion, which your company, Mirage Company, falls under. We’ve had to do a few swip-swaps to battalion command and company command, but I appreciate you getting up early and being flown up here. It makes the whole process easier. Captain?”

He turned to Nicole, who gave a nod. “As you may know, I’m Captain Nicole Price, company commander of Mirage Company. As of now, that position is being delegated to another Captain while I am being reassigned to command this special operations unit, Orpheus Detachment. Each of you have been hand-picked for this detachment due to your noted performance, and its operations, be it planetside, in Vesta’s orbit, and on the moon, will be conducted separately of Mirage Company. Before we can do that, Command wants everyone to go through a brief refresher on zero-gravity combat.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Captain.” Lieutenant Colonel Lamar nodded. “In the meantime, get your introductions and the briefing done quickly. We will be coming up on our AO 30 mikes from now.”

The man left without any warning, floating back out of the hatch he had come from. Nicole waited for about ten seconds before continuing, turning back to her marines with a relieved look on her face. “For reference, always follow your customs and courtesies when he is here. You’ll find I’m a bit less hardcore than most Officers...now, introductions?”

---==============---

Kairi Armstrong found her place in the Interstellar Marine Corps through a mixture of luck, skill and wit. The daughter of an Army officer and a weapons scientist, it became readily apparent to her family from an early age that she possessed an uncanny ability — that of pyrokinesis.

This would lead to her being inducted into the ESPer enhacement training process of the Torchbearer Program in her late adolescence, where she demonstrated exemplary potential. She would join the Space Force shortly thereafter, where she would receive proper military astronaut training. Her competitive nature would rather quickly elevate her, to which she soon was transferred to Mirage Company's Orpheus Detachment.

Her Space Corps training qualifies her for piloting, driving and engineer tasks.

The first to speak up among the group would be a rather tan-skinned girl floating beside the rest of the group. Her Space Force flightsuit implied she carried the rank of First Lieutenant, which seemingly made her second only to Price herself. "First Lieutenant Kairi Armstrong reportin' for duty, ma'am!"

---==============---

An eccentric and somewhat off-kilter personality, SGT. Kelley serves as the squad's AT Man. Philip Kelley — the government taking notice of his unnatural neurokinetic abilities — was placed into the Torchbearer Program in his late teens.

Floating beside Lieutenant Armstrong would be a somewhat pale man. The man was a sergeant, as evidenced by the markings on his flightsuit. “Sergeant Philip Kelley reportin’ for duty.” He called out in a rather uninterested, yet distinctly Mendenhallan drawl.

---==============---

A Buckner native, Sparks serves as the medic of Orpheus detachment.

To the side of Kelley, another man idly floated at attention in zero-g. With a salute, he gave Price his regards. "SFC Andrew Sparks report'n, ma'am."

Last, but not least, was the red-haired marine that had called everyone to attention in the first place, his hands folded behind his back in an at ease stance. “Sar’nt McBride, ma’am. Luke McBride.”

---==============---

A sharp-eyed military brat from Richard's Redoubt some may see as a 'tryhard', SGT. McBride serves as the scout of Orpheus Detachment.

Nicole gave a nod as each of the marines introduced themselves one by one. “We’ve got quite a diverse crew here, which is good — we need diversity and flexibility as always. Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”

At the center of the “situation room” was a “data tank” — a large table-like device not unlike the ones built into naval vessels — that is, those that sailed the seas of Vesta. To define it in a few words, it was your all-purpose tactical map, portable document reader, music player, blueprint analyzer, and more, when it wasn’t serving as a table for one’s coffee. Though, due to the lack of gravity, the latter purpose seemed to be defunct most of the time.

With a flick of a very loud switch beneath the data tank, the large “screen” turned on, displaying the typical Federal Atomics logo on the boot-up screen after running through the typical startup mumbo-jumbo on a black screen, pointless green text floating by and filling up their view with a green glow. The hum of the computer’s large fans working became audible as the map-reading function was activated, giving the team (and the room) a teal glow as their AO, their ship’s position, and their objective became visible among the white grid as a gold circle, blue triangle, and red diamond, respectively.

Nicole pointed to said red diamond, bringing up a few grainy pictures of a station that bore the faded, tattered flag of what once was the Union of Mederune Soviets. “Our objective is around 15 klicks ahead of our projected path...which isn’t that far. What is it, exactly?” She paused, for dramatic effect, as the images finally loaded into full quality. “It’s an old commie space station, Narodnaya-3, to be exact. The UMS cosmonauts that once worked here and guarded it may be long gone, but the station’s still somewhat operational around Vesta...and it’s one of the only few commie stations left intact. That’s not to say there’s still trouble onboard: commie combat automatons still patrol the station on loop, almost as if they didn’t get the idea that the war was over.”

She turned away from the large table for a moment. “Normally we’d have our own training programs for Euphemian space forces, but command deems Narodnaya-3 fit for a ‘trial by fire’ training. We all have metaphorically gotten our feet wet already in space combat, but now we get serious.”

Kairi spoke in the silence that followed, her interest evidently piqued by the training mission. "Can't be that hard! I'm sure we'll handle it just fine, ma'am. I assume we'll be carrying Vindicators along for this one?"

Nicole nodded once again. “Standard EVA loadout, that includes Vindicators and everything else you need for your role.”

Another glance to the data tank revealed that in that short briefing, they had traveled nearly halfway to their objective, and were nearing weapons range of the station should the worst come to shove. “I’d say we have...ten more minutes, before we need to start getting ready. Start suiting up, and ask your questions now.”

Sparks raised his own hand, stroking his chin. "..right, so, uh... these hostile drones. They're, uh, armed with what 'xactly?"

“Besides, well, themselves? The usual commie loadout. Varennikovs and the like. Old coilguns, laser guns, shock batons, and sawblades. Nothing too fancy, for a robot, at least.” Nicole explained. “They’re still armed and dangerous, glitchy or otherwise.”

Kelley’s hand shot up. “So this station’s been abandoned for how long? How’ve these bots been maintainin’ themselves and their equipment?”

“Centuries.” Nicole explained. “They’ve been up since the Vestan Wars, their main program hasn’t changed any bit, and they’ve been kept up by recharging themselves at power stations on-station, which are in turn recharged by the solar panels.

"Guess it's a scrapping job, then." Kairi noted.

With that, the squad took no delay in preparing to suit up in the adjacent room, an antechamber of sorts to the airlock itself. It went by a few tongue-in-cheek names, from 'the locker room' to 'the showers' — it was best not asking why the latter was a nickname at all. The unit's spacesuits were arrayed along the wall, each one military configuration variants of the standard-issue Extravehicular Activity Suit in use by Terminus astronauts.

Each was practically identical to the other, save for a red band on Kairi and Nicole’s helmets, indicating their status as officers, if the ranks beside their names wasn’t enough for the average soldier viewing the suit.

Suiting up was a complex affair — though it was far less of a hassle than predecessors to the EAS. Kairi was well in the midst of getting into gear as she broke the silence, raising some small talk. "..so, uh.. y'ever been to Timorius before?"

“Twice.” Nicole answered. “It’s not that bad, but the people…”

"I hear a good jump there can get you twenty feet up in the air.." Kairi thought aloud, clicking a few belts along her harness together as she suited up. "Bet it means shooting's easier. I mean, anyone can be a sharpshooter with gravity like that, right?"

“No one can be as good as me, I bet.” McBride boasted, tapping the side of his head towards the temples for emphasis. “I was a scout sniper back in my old unit, the best there ever was. Get me a sniper and I’ll hit a commie between the eyes, on-demand!”

“And have you ever been to Timorus before, Sergeant?” Nicole challenged.

“Oh, many times, ma’am. I think this is gonna be my… fifth deployment moonside? Only one combat drop, though..”

"..let's hope you shoot better than the terr'rists do, then." Sparks chimed in, slipping his helmet on — it connected and pressurized with a hiss and click, backlighting soon filling the space within as his power pack came to life.

"..well, uh, this is gonna be my first try at real combat," Kairi blurted out, putting her helmet on as her own suit came to life, charged by the back-mounted battery pack. Grabbing one of the ER-M53 laser rifles situated on the wall rack, she took a moment to admire the weapon before slinging it over her shoulder. "..but I'm sure we'll be fine. Ain't that right, Kelley?"

“Damn right.” Kelley responded, briefly looking up. “This shit’ll be a cakewalk.”

"Y'two know each other?" Sparks questioned, as if he were thinking aloud. "..hell, I guess I'm a new face 'round here."

"..it's a long story." Kairi simply replied, idling by the door to the airlock as the rest of the group finished preparations.

“If I have to save any of y’all’s lives while we’re fighting some dumb ass robots..—”

“Lock it up.” Nicole interrupted McBride before he could finish speaking, fitting her Federal Atomics M3 Command Module to her wrist and tapping a few buttons on the tiny computer. “We’re in range of the target now. We’re gonna be leaving the ship for this one..”

The airlock was adjacent to the “locker room,” missing many of the amenities like fancy computers and lockers and storage units in lieu of a more brutalist and sleek approach. A port like this was double-layered: it had a shielded exterior and the actual docking port itself, which could allow it to dock to ships, stations, payloads, and small probes, while also allowing for small teams like Orpheus Detachment to disembark at will.

As the group stood in the airlock, the door shut, a tense silence following as they awaited the depressurization of the chamber preceding the opening of the airlock's external doors. It came soon enough, the room being depressurized before the doors themselves slid open to reveal the vastness of space beyond.

The soldiers of Orpheus Detachment could hear one another through their communicators. That aside, there was nothing more than the total absence of sound. To their side, Vesta could be seen in its vastness, surface glimmering with city lights and coated with clouds here and there. Night was beginning to set upon Veris and its sister subcontinent, Tiamat, and so the sprawl of urbanization slowly revealed itself across the span of the Alut Gulf.

"..beautiful.." Kairi murmured, her voice audible on the communication line as Orpheus Detachment momentarily stood there in the airlock. The ruins of Narodnaya-3 were visible, albeit distant. It seemed to be part of a greater debris field, no doubt a site of a past battle. Its narrow corridors, some hanging loose in the expanse of space, quickly painted a picture of something that would be a hellish close quarters situation. A few klicks would be manageable, especially considering the RCS nozzles on each of their suits.

They were no more than a few kilometers or so away from their objective, and already their entry point was visible: another hatch, whether it was used for docking or general access didn’t matter, but what did matter was that they needed to get inside, and it wasn’t going to be as simple as turning a few knobs and opening a hatch with one’s bare hands, knowing how tough and brutalist these UMS stations were built.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[CPT. N. PRICE] "Armstrong, use that plasma cutter of yours and get that open! Everyone else, pull security."

[1LT. K. ARMSTRONG] "Got it!"

Kairi boosted ahead past the rest of the group, slowing her approach as she reached the ruined station's airlocks. With plasma cutter in hand, she took little time to get to work, cutting away at the seal before pushing it open. As was to be expected, there was no depressurization that ensued — the station had been depressurized for centuries now.

---==============---

Narodnaya-3.

From the airlock, Kairi gestured the rest of the group over as she moved on to the second airlock door, getting to work as Orpheus Detachment approached. Nicole watched the woman get to work, marveling at her speed with cutting through the heavy doors.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[1LT. K. ARMSTRONG] "Getting the other door open... these things are pretty big. Ships of back then must've been some powerhouses..."

[SGT. P. KELLEY] ”Eh, I doubt it. Motherfuckers back then were workin’ with some real primitive shit.”

[CPT. N. PRICE] "It’s typical UMS doctrine — bigger and beefier is better. They didn’t learn to be flexible — you learned this stuff if you went through OCS like I did."

[1LT. K. ARMSTRONG] "..just a sec. There we go."

With a nudge, the doors leading into the station came open, Kairi stepping aside. Dim, flickering lights stretched on down the corridor of modules and sections of the derelict station. It was hard to see too far, but it seemed some modules had lost power entirely, given there were the occasional pockets of darkness along the space.

"..looks all clear ahead, ma'am," Kairi announced, holstering her plasma cutter as she drew her Vindicator once more. "but we ought to keep our eyes open, just in case. I mean, we're in space... we can't hear 'em coming."

She was right, obviously. The ages-old mantra of “in space, no one can hear you scream” was no truer here. Given that they didn’t have a complete grasp on the station’s capabilities and readiness, there was always the very real possibility that the enemy knew they were coming..if their programming was advanced enough to allow them to act outside of the usual patrol.

“Keep your head on a swivel, Orpheus!” Nicole reminded, drawing her weapon from the magnetic “holster” situated on the thigh of her bulky suit. “Armstrong, take point.”

"Let's see how ad-vanced their sub-routines are." Sparks joked, readying his own laser rifle. With Kairi taking the lead, the group slowly floated their way down the corridor. Text on the walls, mostly warnings, labels or propaganda, were written with bilingualism in mind — ancient Tsionic Velikossi followed by old Sinican localizations. Loose equipment floated about, from computers to canteens.

It would not be long, of course, before they were faced with a predicament — a corridor that forked in two separate directions.

"What's our gameplan, Captain?" Kairi questioned, taking point as she aimed her rifle down the hall to the left, RCS thrusters keeping her stable in the zero-g vacuum.

Nicole took a glance at her M3 Command Module, the dull greenish glow of the display contrasting with her helmet and the darkened corridors. “If we go down this hall here…” she gestured to a hallway connected perpendicular to the one they had entered into. “...We should be in the clear to make contact with the smaller group of drones. Knowing commie orbital S-O-P, the smaller group patrols non-essential areas, while the larger group secures the inner layer.”

"Will do." Kairi nodded. "..I go first, or.. I mean, I'm just an engineer y'know.."

“I’ll take point,” Nicole announced, floating ahead of the group while keeping her weapon up, aimed downrange.

The left-hand corridor seemed to serve little function beyond the ancient crates of ordnance that freely floated about, breach along the modules trickling in light through a sector where electricity had otherwise failed the ancient station.

Though there was no sound, there was an intangible tension... one that was only heightened, in fact, by the absolute silence of the vacuum. Nicole slowed down but kept her weapon straight and steady.

There was also something else down the hallway, something that seemed to shimmer in the light of both their weapons, the ambient flicker of the lights, and the sheen of their lights. Without warning, Nicole fired her weapon, one of the drones instantly going limp and tripping as a circuit or something inside suddenly lit on fire, disabling it for good. The others chimed in and fired, their coilgun Varennikovs firing past the group as Nicole swiftly flew towards cover. “Contact!”

"I think we just pissed them off!" Raising her own Vindicator, Kairi took aim — only for the robot before her to swiftly move aside, evading the beam. What followed was a hail of rounds from the combat machines, coilgun Varennikovs putting more than a few holes in the walls of the corridor.

Lunging across the vacuum, one of the robots would catch Sparks by surprise, sawblade hand swinging down and narrowly missing his head — briefly scathing his powerpack in the process as he recoiled away from the automaton, floating away in the zero-g environment. "I thought y'said this corridor had LESS of 'em!" He yelled, quickly pulling himself into cover behind one of the pillars in the corridor.

“Miscalculation!” Nicole grumbled, the frustration in her voice evident.

"Taking another shot!" Raising her laser rifle, Kairi took her shot — swiftly disabling another one of the drones, sparks flying as the automaton was sent flying backwards.

"They're tryin' to fuckin' kill me, I tell you!" Sparks yelled, ducking into cover once more as he tended to the breach in his suit leg with ducttape. Peering from cover once more, he had sufficient time to take his shot... just enough to disable one of the automaton, catapulting it down the corridor.

One machine remained, ancient Varennikov coil rifle in hand as it fired away, bullets speeding past Sparks as he ducked once more. "..oh COME ON!" He complained, keeping his head low as the rounds flew past with unprecedented speed. A single mistake could mean instant death in the void of space — no different, perhaps, than on Vesta or Timorius.

With a final flash of her Vindicator, a salad plate-sized hole had been made in the chest of the last combat drone, sparks and a brief fire quickly enveloping the innards of the automaton as it went limp and powered-down.

"Clear!" Kairi announced, floating ahead of the group as she confirmed the tally — four of the killing machines floated uselessly in the vacuum, disabled by the group's laser rifles. They'd cleared the corridor, to which little remained left to complete in their 'trial by fire'.

"..well, least I ain't dead." Sparks commented, noting the ducttape patchwork on his suit leg.

"That wasn't too hard! Or maybe we're really lucky..." Kairi thought aloud, taking point beside the door to the next section of the station. "..could've gone a lot worse.."

“Head on a swivel, everyone!” Nicole reminded, taking a brief glance at the command module mounted on her wrist. “Take a right here. I’m certain this next group is going to be smaller.”

Wherever it may be. She kept glancing back down to her wrist.

"..right, then." Sparks murmured, raising his own rifle as the group carefully began down the next corridor.

“Does smaller mean it’ll be smaller by one… or by two?” Luke taunted, much to Nicole’s chagrin.

"I for one plan on getting back to the ship in one piece.." Kairi joked, rifle at the ready as they floated down the darkened space. The lights overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows as they weakly illuminated the corridor. Here and there the faded propaganda pieces, derelict tools and weapons, and the occasional ancient, skeletal cosmonaut decorated the hallway's path.

beebeebeebeeBEEP

Ahead, Price could see it both visually and on her command module — three automata, tending to machinery in the next module. It was almost sad to consider how these mindless machines kept the facility running centuries beyond the tribulations of the Vestan Wars.

“I’ll take the one in the center,” Price announced over radio, raising her Vindicator downrange. “Pick your targets, on my signal.”

She steadied her aim as the suit’s miniature RCS nozzles stabilized her into a hover. At this range, missing would be impossible — she only hoped the others in her detachment could follow through with the order and fire in time.

A flash of red and white came from her laser weapon. Instantly, another salad plate-sized hole appeared in the front armor plating of the communist automata, exposing now-fried circuit boards, a mangled mess of wires, and other internal structures. The robot spun out of control, its own RCS thrusters failing to keep it stable as it twirled aimlessly away.

The others automatically snapped towards the marines, but Sergeant McBride was quick to the draw, reducing another automata’s head to a warped, charred, and partially melted version of itself as some internal systems in the head exploded. It tried and succeeded in regaining control as it blindly fired towards the marines, but the shots flew wide from their direction as McBride fired once again, downing the communist robot with another shot to the chest.

More shots from the automaton’s coilgun flew far and over the group, a few zipping past the astronauts silently while others collided with walls, broken computers, and astronaut bodies, parts and sparks flying aimlessly and silently in the station.

A single well placed shot from Kelley dropped the last one of the station’s automatons, a brilliant spark of yellow and red erupting from its chestpiece.

Kairi took a moment to scan their surroundings before confirming it in full. "Clear!" She announced, lowering her laser rifle by a few inches. The other end of the station wasn't far — now they merely needed word from the Admiral Halloran to prepare to board once more.

“That’s one station cleared out..” McBride noted.

"..could've been a lot harder.." Kairi thought aloud, floating not far behind Price as they navigated the derelict station.

"Could've been a lot easier." Sparks complained.

The silence of space only served to make the occasional side chatter more awkward as they continued down the narrow hallways and corridors of the station. More lights flickered as Price led the way through the labyrinthine maze with a few turns and drops, their presumed position on the station being updated every five or so seconds on the portable command unit around her wrist.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "Marines, this is Lamar. The Halloran is beginning its maneuver burn to swing around to the other end of the station. Get there quick and we’ll extract you speedily."

[CPT N. PRICE] ”Yes, sir. Double time it, Marines!”

With that, Orpheus Detachment made haste through the ruined carcass of the station. At the other end was a breach that seemingly cut through half of Narodnaya-3, presumedly the aftermath of battles of centuries past. From the breach, they could see it clearly: the Admiral Halloran coming around, mounted boosters and RCS slowly bringing it into position.

The station peeled away from around Nicole as she and her team exited the station, Narodnaya-3 becoming little more than a speck behind them as the collision lights of the Admiral Halloran appeared, its darkened facade and side profile giving it the impression of something much more ‘alien’ than it really was. As they approached, large flood lights activated on the side they were approaching, revealing another docking port, the name of the ship, and a few of the coilgun turrets on the port side of the ship.

"Guess that's our 'trial by fire', huh?" Kairi said, beginning a slow drift towards the ship with her own suit-mounted RCS thrusters.

Luke gave a shrug as they slowed to a halt beside the ship, while Nicole worked to actually get the airlock open. “This seemed way too easy and simple, really. Don’t you guys agree?”

"Shooting scrap metal ain't gettin' us a medal," Sparks murmured. "I jus' hope we're dealing with the real deal soon."

Nicole turned back to her unit as the airlock doors silently opened for the crew, a purple dot in space off in distance reminding them of how far, yet how close the moon of Timorus was. “..And we will be.”

"..so there's less gravity on Timorius. Don't it mean the tanks'll be bigger... guns too?" Sparks questioned, sharpening his own combat knife while the rest of the unit 'de-suited' in the so-called locker room of the Admiral Halloran.

"I dunno," Kairi shrugged, slipping out of her own EVA suit. "Last I checked the terrorists don't have tanks. Why worry about it?"

"I ain't worried, Armstrong... I'm itchin' to see some big, bad lunar battle tanks!"

“To answer your previous question..” McBride chimed in, using a very matter-of-fact tone. “Yes. Tanks are fucking HUGE on Timorus, big guns, too. Ever hear about the tale of Alpha Gun? It was a gun so big they thought it was a mountain, one of those huge fuckoff superguns used to take down satellites or launch ‘em into orbit.”

"Y'hear of the.. Timorius warheads?" Sparks questioned, leaning against the wall as he failed to hide a smug grin. "They say it's so classified, we still ain't even know if they're a real thing. And if they're throwin' us together to run specops on the moon, I figure mil-int knows the truth... whatever it is."

"Timorius warheads?" Kairi questioned, oblivious.

"Y'know this ship's engines? Not the boosters we use for fine maneuverin'.. I mean the nuclear pulse propulsion. Slap that on an ICBM." Sparks replied. "Now send it hurlin' at Tsion at ten percent of the speed of light, and y'get a fuckup. A bad one. That's what they say the terr'rists on the moon really want..."

“Yeah..” McBride added. “The whole story behind Timorius, too, is that it’s superweapon central. I-P-B-Ms, superguns, orbital guns, you name it. Most of ‘em were destroyed during the Vestan Wars, but a few of ‘em are still there. There’s this legend going around about interplanetary missiles and shit moonside, right? They were gonna be launched on Tsion as a sort of dead man’s hand...but we all knew how that turned out. Their sites are still undiscovered, so there’s a sort of treasure hunt going on to find the silos and secure them. Even civvies are getting involved in the search, too.”

“Which makes the whole thing one giant clusterfuck, kind of like Vesta.” The voice of Lieutenant Colonel Lamar prompted McBride to immediately open his mouth to call the room to attention, but he continued before the Sergeant. “Vesta is one accident waiting to happen, but Timorus is another one that most seem to overlook. The truth is, the proxy war on Timorius is one of the more pivotal pieces in this geopolitical game, and if we can’t maintain orbital supremacy, who knows what those terrorists will do?”

"..let's just hope they don't do that.." Kairi murmured, mildly unsettled at the notion.

It didn't take long for the rest of Orpheus to get de-suited, especially in the Colonel's presence. The door to the hall slowly opened, the group slowly filing out under the officer's watch. A debrief was in order, even if it seemed mildly unnecessary for what was little more than shooting old drones.

"Word around ship is you've got a thing for fire, LT..." Sparks said, warranting a glance from Kairi. This caused McBride’s eyes to widen like a little boy pressing his face up against a toy store. “Can I see it? Always wanted to see how those so-called ESPers did it.”

"Oh—... uhh.." Kairi trailed off, nervously looking away as they floated on down the corridor. "..it just sorta works,"

"..like this!" With the flick of her wrist, she seemingly produced a small flame out of thin air, floating over her palm. As if effortlessly, she turned the small flame into a glimmering arc, creating a small, glowing smiley face.

"Ho-lee shit! Cap'n, Colonel, y'seein' this?" Sparks called.

“Hmm… impressive!” Nicole nodded. Lamar, on the other hand, seemed unimpressed. “I’ve seen folks shoot lightning out their hands, nothing too out of the ordinary.”

With similarly effortless ease, Kairi brought the shimmering flame to vanish entirely as they neared the corridor's end. "..anyways—"

In another moment, they were back in the 'war room' of sorts, the group forming up before the Colonel himself.

“We are on the cusp of something difficult, marines. Insurgents on Timorius threaten this careful peace we have forged both planetside on Vesta and moonside. As the ages-old saying goes, we are going to have to act if we want to live in a different world. The first step..” he pointed to the gridded map on the data tank with a finger. “Is Cantenia. An armed insurgency seeks to take control of various superweapons sites on Timorius, and they have Vesta in their crosshairs. Worse, if they succeed, they shall have the capability to hit our home, Tsion.”

He gave a pause, the intense looks on everyone’s faces confirming the grave situation at hand. “But, first, speaking of Tsion...we have another situation at hand.”

"Sir?" Kairi broke the tense silence, tilting her head.

“We have a bit of a situation regarding a stray Zhu satellite..and a signal from Tsion. With our current trajectory and our speed as it stands now, we’ll be reaching that Sinican satellite before Timorius — a little rest stop, if you will.”

He paused and turned to the table once again. “More will come later once we reach the satellite, but be prepared for more boarding operations.”

"A signal from Tsion..? What, we finally gettin' orders at home? Is the war finally over?" questioned Sparks.

“No idea what the message is, but that Sinican satellite seems to be one of the COMINT types — intercepting signals from Tsion, controlling what is beamed down to Vesta, et cetera,” Lamar explained. “The objective here will be simple: get that satellite and that transmission data

"..either way, that satellite's got something we need.." Kairi thought aloud.

“I want that satellite, Orpheus Detachment.” Lamar said, hands folded behind his back. “Today was just a diagnostic and a test run for this unit, but tomorrow is the official trial by fire. As of right now, your unit has been officially activated. Orpheus, the etymology behind it meaning “orphan,” or “fatherless” — a symbolic name for a semi-autonomous detachment as yourself. For the rest of Mirage Company, it is business as usual, but for you, your business is COIN operations, and business is booming.”

Pausing, as if for dramatic effect, he switched the gridded map on the data tank off, bounding for the door with a push off the table. “Get to it, Orpheus. We’re going to have a long road ahead of us.”

by **Forest State** » Mon Mar 02, 2020 1:47 pm

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 5
_{AFFAIRS OF THE COURT}

Combat operations have relatively calmed down for now in Amiriyya, as battle lines form around the Vojvodean and Bahrizadi held city of Dejan and the rest of the country, which is controlled by the hostile Shafadi tribe… However, as things heat up once again during a raid meant to capture Shafadi Popular Front militia leader Parisa Sourouri, Task Force 17 leader Nina Chernova has returned home to carry out the duties of nobility - an absence that will test the team.

Nina Chernova, 2nd Eagles Brigade, Task Force 17
Chernov Family Palace, Norisk, Empire of Vojvodea
Murmere 16th, 251

They said that home was where the heart was, but right now, Nina didn’t feel like her heart was there. Even if she was waking up in the bedroom that she had spent years in, a place that normally had many good memories for her and was a nice place to return to. After all, she had chosen the life of a soldier now, so conventional wisdom would dictate that any time she spent around here was more valuable than it had been before. She had commitments and such, and when she was able to come back home, it was a blessing and not just something to be taken for granted…

But despite knowing that, she couldn’t fight the feeling that this was the wrong place to be.

That was because while she was here, in her room, about to spend time with her family later in the day, her squad were out in Amiriyya where their lives would be in danger with every passing day. Even if things had calmed down since before as both sides fell into a rough stalemate and the Empire prepared for stronger measures, they could heat back up at any time. If that happened… She would definitely feel terrible for not being there, especially if something bad happened to anyone in the unit in the absence of her leadership.

Waking up in Norisk

However, royal summons like this one were hardly negotiable, and she was only here because it was the only real option on her plate. When the Emperor was visiting the city, you made sure that everyone on the guest list was present at the main event. Even if some of the names on that list happened to be fighting in Amiriyya at the moment. She wouldn’t be gone long, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a bad feeling in her mind about the others staying behind.

According to her mother Ekaterina Chernova, this was too high class of an event to just invite any lowborn person. A stance she disagreed with but didn’t dispute either. She’d been through this enough times to know what the rules were, and that those rules were set in place by traditions older than herself. While she believed her squad had earned it so to speak, she knew they couldn’t come here… So she would have to be satisfied with keeping contact with them from a distance for now.

That was, of course, not really enough for her. But it was the form of communication she was stuck with until she could see them in person again.

Stepping out of the shower, Nina dried herself off with a towel before she made her way over to her desk and reached for her tablet, checking for any new notifications before going to what she was really looking for, her Vojnet client and the conversation she’d left off the last night - the one with squamate Yaroslava Androyeva.

Welcome back user NinaXO!
Home > Private Messages > Conversation with Truly_Yaro

[NinaXO] - You awake?

[Truly_Yaro] - mmhmm

[Truly_Yaro] - anything cool up in norisk? Isnt today when the emperor comes by?

[NinaXO] - And a lot of other important people. I have to go to a bunch of things for that. Noble stuff, you wouldn’t want to come to most of it.

[Truly_Yaro] - and what about you?

[NinaXO] - Me? I personally don’t mind it but I would rather be in the desert keeping you out of trouble. I believe these events should be for recreation time, not when we have work to do.

[Truly_Yaro] - meh, just enjoy your time with your family

[Truly_Yaro] - aint no shafadi bitch thats going to get the drop on us when youre gone

[NinaXO] - Actually…

[Truly_Yaro] - that sounds ominous

[NinaXO] - Someone from the military told me last night after you went to bed that you guys are going to have an op tonight based on new intel that the recon people just discovered. They have the location Sorouri is supposed to be and you’re supposed to raid the place.

[Truly_Yaro] - based and redpilled

[Truly_Yaro] - this is a bad thing again how?

[NinaXO] - It’s not, just saying I feel bad not being there when you guys are doing something dangerous.

[Truly_Yaro] - its fine

[Truly_Yaro] - we’ll have the shafadi bitch on a stick for you when you come back

[Truly_Yaro] - you can even have the credit and impress your royal friends, someone like me doesnt need it anyway lol

[NinaXO] - I’m not going to take credit for something I wasn’t there for, Yaroslava. I want to return to you and the others, I don’t want to have you take this on by yourself, I hope you know that, I’m only here because I have no other option and my parents are going to be pissed forever if I skip on something like this… It’s not ok that I’m missing our most dangerous mission as a team but I don’t have any option other than taking the scumbag route.

[NinaXO] - And if anyone deserves credit it’s you and Margarita and the others that are behind and doing the work on the ground and not me sipping cocktails and talking to royals because its what I have to do. I’m sorry too that my parents wouldn’t let you or the rest of the team come, despite what we’ve done in Amiriyya for the embassy and for helping the military achieve its goals… I tried my best to argue your case but they kept telling me this wasn’t the kind of thing for commoners.

[NinaXO] - if someone should be sorry its me

[Truly_Yaro] - damn shawty ok

[Truly_Yaro] - you were typing for 5 mins

[Truly_Yaro] - well im not actually upset about not going lol

[Truly_Yaro] - im happy in the desert, im not the poorest person in the room in amiriyya

[Truly_Yaro] - if you wanna do something for me just have fun and send me a nice selfie from norisk lol

[NinaXO] - One moment

[NinaXO] - File: 11MB

[NinaXO] - I have to go :c

[NinaXO] - Competing in the sword tournament before the real stuff starts. Then I have to get dressed and get ready for the gala tonight. Guess you’ll be in the middle of your raid when I get back late night.

[Truly_Yaro] - have fun

[Truly_Yaro] - and you better crush everyone in the sword thing

Stretching, Nina moved away from the tablet and started the process of getting dressed, not quite putting on her formal clothes yet but not dressing as casually as she would if she were around the base in Amiriyya either. She liked the latter style more, but when in Travia, it was best to walk like the Avarecians do… And the same applied to being around the nobles in her country. Even if she didn’t like every aspect of it, she’d do her best to blend in. She owed that much to her family, who had allowed her to leave for the military with no resistance.

At the same time, the bad feeling she had about leaving her team behind before this important mission could hardly be understated.

She owed them more, but some things were just hard to get out of.

SGT Yaroslava Androyeva, 2nd Eagles Brigade, Task Force 17
She-ab Point Firebase, Emirate of Guzan
Murmere 16th, 251

Back in the deserted wastelands of Guzan, the news of the incoming raid hadn’t yet reached the firebase where Task Force 17 was stationed. All of the planning hadn’t been completed, and while the unit would receive the briefing soon enough, they hadn’t heard the news just yet. That didn’t mean they were failing at keeping their skills sharp, though, just because they hadn’t had anything important in a few days and didn’t know about the current operation which would soon be announced. In one of the courtyards, training was going on actively… And the sounds from it could be heard across the surrounding area.

Wooden sword clashed against wooden sword as both of the figures within the makeshift training area held their weapon like it was the real thing… These fights were just part of the national tradition, and while it wasn’t the most practical weapon, it was a notable one from the country’s roots and one that had remained with the Vojvodean mythos. Those who could swing a sword and fight could be trusted in other things, was the belief.

It was less about how much damage someone could do with the weapon and more about whether or not they had the toughness and endurance to get to a decent level of using it. And both of the figures who were training now had put in the work to get to that point. Their wooden blades hit against each other often, neither one getting through to land a solid enough blow to be counted for the purposes of scoring, and their feet were in constant motion as the strength of their blows contrasted with their dexterity and fast movement and shifts… Plenty of subtle movements of the feet adding up to larger ones - turns, charges, withdrawals, and all the moves one would expect from a real and desperate fight.

The only thing that was louder than the knock of wood against wood was the sound of the two soldiers speaking mid fight and trying to throw each other off their game in a different way, through trash talk.

“That’s the best you have, Yaroslava?” asked Nastja, taking another swing which was narrowly deflected and forcing her opponent back once more. “Maybe you should lay off the lifting, you’re getting a bit slow!”

“And I’d say you’re getting sloppy…” Yaroslava replied, taking advantage of Nastja going off balance and almost striking her with another swing of her own, this one coming close to hitting but ending up an inch or so away from her target.

“Maybe you need to lay off the candy, too-”

“Yeah?”

Striking forward with a quick kick, Yaroslava threw her opponent off balance before charging forward once more and taking a swing towards the inside of Nastja’s guard, before driving the wooden sword forwards until it hit her in the chest, transitioning from a slashing attack to a stabbing one. The impact was enough to knock the platinum haired opponent back and into the sand, to which Yaroslava reacted with a celebratory gesture of flexing.

“I might be a bit heavier, but ‘least I can use the weight,” Yaroslava remarked as she moved over and offered her hand to help Nastja up.

“Lucky, lucky…”

As the training match ended, however, Yaroslava turned to find that there was someone approaching her, who didn’t exactly look like it was just to talk. She was looking at an imposing figure, a cape of red hanging from the man’s shoulders and contrasting with white clothes, and the general look of the uniform making this person seem like a royal envoy. From which house or royal organization, however, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that eyes were on her and that it was out of place to see someone dressed formally like that around a firebase like this in the middle of the Guzan wastes…

“You manage to get yourself a date with a noble or something?” Nastja asked with a raised eyebrow, also turning and noticing the approach of the envoy. “Well… Other than the CO.”

Yaroslava simply replied by punching her in the arm, her face a bit more serious while she kept her eyes on the envoy. “I don’t know this guy,” she said truthfully, before the man stopped where he was, seemingly waiting for her to approach instead of coming up to her. “Guess I’ll have to see what’s up, might be something with orders or whatever. I did hear something earlier in the day that they were going to announce earlier-”

“And where would you have heard that, Sergeant Androyeva?” asked the man, arms folded. Shit. It wasn’t exactly a good observation to let slip in front of someone important, and she wasn’t about to get Nina in trouble.

“... A friend,” Yaroslava said after a brief pause, her tone making it clear that she didn’t intend to give away many details unless she knew more about exactly who she was speaking to right now.

“A friend that’s an officer in this unit, perhaps,” the envoy replied, eyeing her up carefully. “Maybe even a Major around here.”

“Is there a problem from the Court?” Yaroslava inquired, deflecting from the observation about Nina revealing information. “Also, considering I’m the acting executive officer right now, I need to know the details on our plans before the rest of the unit does. I didn’t realize that was something a royal envoy would… Take offense with.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but that’s not the reason behind this visit,” the envoy stated, with a brief chuckle. “Nor am I from the crown. Though, the ones that ordered me to come here are nobles, yes. It’s an important message, as I’m sure you can understand… A flight and then a drive all the way out here isn’t cheap, after all.”

“Jeez, could have just texted me if there was something I need to know… Unless whoever your employer is doesn’t have my number,” Yaroslava scoffed, folding her own arms and shifting on her heels as she listened. “You want my number? So they can get in touch easier next time-”

Before she could react, there was a strong grip on her collar as the envoy moved, showing surprising skill with martial arts… Wasn’t that often there was someone in a position like this that was good at fighting rather than just talking, but that seemed to be the case with this one, who had her in a hold she couldn’t break out of before she could even move her hands to block the grab. “The hell?” she asked, while Nastja watched in the background with a bewildered gasp but didn’t say anything… And seconds later, the sound of unsheathing could be heard through the area, and there was a sword pointed at the trapped Sergeant… A real one this time.

“The warning that I’ve been told to deliver… Is that you’re playing with fire,” the envoy said, pressing the sword against her side. “Be very careful, Androyeva. And know where the limits are for someone of your background…”

“What the fuck is this?” Yaroslava asked while she wrestled against the grasp, eventually kicking out and striking the man in the knee to cause his grasp to falter momentarily, backing away from the sword and going into a defensive posture, taking a few slow backsteps. “Did I do something to piss off some noble house?”

“Just know that you’ll never be a part of the nobility,” the envoy informed her, leveling the sword in her general direction but not making a move. “If you understand that point… I’m sure we won’t have to meet again under these circumstances-”

“Don’t think you’re going to get away without telling me what this is about,” growled the Sergeant, starting a run in on her opponent but feinting to the right, spinning in the other direction when the envoy moved to block with the sword. She struck out with a kick once again, this time targeting the sword hand of the envoy and forcing the weapon to clatter to the ground after the hard impact of boot against hand, but she was dealing with a stronger opponent here than she realized, sword or not… And she didn’t expect to get flung off her feet when the man spun around and delivered a sweeping blow while she was already off balance.

“You know that you’re assaulting a Sergeant in the Eagles Brigade, right?” she said from the ground, scrambling to get back to her feet but not coming any closer, her fists both raised and shaking from anger… Her composure gone after the insult to her background. “We’ll see what the crown thinks of that, because you can be sure that I’m telling my CO and making a complaint-”

“I’m sure you will,” the envoy stated, before chuckling again in that infuriating tone. “But the last time I checked, the nobility was ranked ahead of the soldiers. I think that being here on a mission from a noble house will help my argument quite nicely. You may even recognize the house in particular,” he continued, reaching into a pocket to pull out a small banner… A familiar heraldry that Yaroslava had seen a few times in her own research and had seen on some of the personal items of her own commanding officer.

“House Chernov?” she said in surprise, the words escaping her lips as she recognized the symbol emblazoned on the heraldry, a deer on a black background. “Why… Why the hell?”

“As I said… I’ve been told to deliver a warning to not fly too close to the sun. I’m sure you know what I mean, Yaroslava,” the envoy replied, returning his blade to the sheath and starting to turn to leave. She considered running after the man but at this point she knew it wasn’t going to do anything good and it could only make things worse for her… It wouldn’t exactly help her case with Nina when she returned if she heard that she had attacked her family’s envoy, but on the other hand, she would have a lot of questions soon for Nina about why her family had just sent an envoy all the way here to Guzan just for the purpose of attacking her.

Then again… She did have some ideas, the prospect of them making her close her fists in anger once again as she watched the man leave, and Nastja approached her from behind.

“The actual hell was that about?” Nastja asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You alright? You fell pretty bad.”

“Pride’s more hurt than my body…” Yaroslava said through gritted teeth. “And I have some idea of what that was about but I have to make sure before I say anything, because it’s kind of a big deal… Don’t say anything about the banner.”

“That banner was because of-”

“Can’t talk right now. I’ll see you whenever we meet about the assignment,” said Yaroslava, cutting off Nastja and running off to… Somewhere else. Getting in contact with Nina would be the smartest move right now but on the other hand, she knew she wasn’t likely to be available based on what she had said when they talked earlier… She would just have to wait to find out the truth about the sudden attack on her. One by an envoy of a royal house for that matter. She’d never thought that she would end up speaking to someone in that position under those circumstances, but then again, she never thought she’d become friends with a member of a noble house in the first place.

She did, however, know at least one of the possible reasons behind this… Like the warning had said, it was a matter of playing with fire.

“But if it’s because of that…” she muttered under her breath. “Who the hell told them?”

Night had turned to day, and the time to focus on issues of interpersonal relationships and the royal court had passed.

The only goal was the capture or killing of Parisa Sourouri, the leader of the Shafadi Popular Front militia that had taken over the county - and the de facto Chieftess in Amiriyya now that the Prime Minister had been deposed by the SPF. The raid was being conducted by multiple units, the Eagles Brigade among them but also soldiers of the 15th Airborne Brigade, one of the more notable units in the service of the Imperial Vojvodean Army. All of them had their role to play… And they had a limited window to complete their goals before their target slipped away into the distance, across the border to Sarvelia most likely.

The raiding side was coming in by helicopter, and Yaroslava was the second in command thanks to the fact that Nina was in Norisk for her family commitments… Regretfully missing the most important mission that any of them here had been on before. “Wish you were here,” she muttered under her breath, looking down at her equipment one more time. Her rifle was ready, her knife was strapped to her chest as usual, she had her pistol at her side… And extra ammunition strapped to her torso as usual. In other words, after the third time checking, she was sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

Checking, she believed, was a nervous behavior. But she wasn’t going to try and act like she wasn’t nervous about this. About what they were walking into. There would be fierce resistance and there was no guarantee they would get what they were looking for out of this. There was a chance… Of failure and their target escaping into an enemy country. There was a chance they wouldn’t be able to breach the compound without a battle, and they didn’t have time for a battle.

Furthermore, Yaroslava didn’t know if their acting commanding officer was up to it. “You good, Marg?” she asked Margarita, the one who inherited command with Nina not present here.

“As good as I can be,” Margarita said. She wasn’t the one that handled pressure best, out of all of them. She tended to be somewhat nervous, her demeanor softer than Nina and definitely softer than Yaroslava herself. She had some good skills as an officer, but that had more to do with her administrative ability than any exceptional courage or vocal leadership. And yet, her rank put her in charge of this operation.

“Just let everyone do their jobs and it’s probably going to be fine,” Yaroslava replied, looking up to meet the eye of her fellow officer. “Don’t underestimate them… But we’re better at fighting at night and the other side’s never been in a fight like the one we’re about to give ‘em.”

“Nina’s better at this than me, really,” Margarita admitted, shrugging slightly. “I’ll let myself breathe a bit when we’re out of here with the VIP with us.”

A night landing for a desperate mission.

“It’s going to be over before you know it,” Galina said as their helicopter finished descending, placing them on a hill not far from the site of where the operation was going to take place. They had an overlooking view of it… But they’d have to move quickly if they didn’t want the target to simply evade before they even reached the place and breached the defenses that were waiting ahead for them.

“The fuckin’ big one’s starting, boys… Let’s move,” Yaroslava said, waving the group to head forward after Margarita once they had started off in the direction of the compound, the other helicopters touching down in areas nearby. No gunshots had been fired yet but that wasn’t going to last long, surely. Such a location like this… Would be well defended, even if the opposition did have inferior training and weapons compared to the top of the line soldiers that were on the move to deal with them.

In the back of her mind, though, she had a thought which was less optimistic than her outward demeanor showed. I hope I make it back from this thing and get to find out what the hell happened earlier today… And I hope the outcome isn't going to be what I’m thinking it might be…

Nina Chernova, 2nd Eagles Brigade, Task Force 17
Chernov Family Palace, Norisk, Empire of Vojvodea
Murmere 16th, 251

Wish I could be out there with you all… But instead, I’m right here.

Norisk wasn’t home to the greatest of Vojvodean palaces, and the one here was certainly more militaristic and rough around the edges than some of the more elegant ones such as the one in Lyachevo, owing to the frontier status of the city the palace was located in, but that wasn’t to say it lacked luxury. No, it was still the finest place in the city by far, contrasting greatly with the surroundings which were more nondescript and industrial in nature. The palace, however, was designed in a way that many such buildings in Vojvodea were - to display strength, and to display the status of the family who owned it.

The nobility had arisen in a time of instability, after all. These days, some said that they only had palaces like this as a way to live in excess and flash their wealth at the populace. Back in the day, however, their status as symbols had been more important. It was a symbol that there was an authority worth looking up to… That even through the chaos of the post collapse period, a watchful eye was rising up to watch over the people and eventually ensure safety for all.

Nina was well aware of the reasons the palaces had been built like this, and her eyes traveled along the more notable elements of this room in particular as she walked through the main ballroom of her family’s palace, a place she didn’t frequent. While she could be a socialite when she felt like it, much of the time she was busy with other duties. More recently, that came in the form of her military service, but this particular gala was important enough to get her recalled even from that, before an important and time sensitive operation.

Traditional sights like this can be found all over the country - including in Norisk, the site of the Tzar’s visit.

The Tzar will be here tonight… I know mother and father will be happy to show off what we have here… But I still wish I could be on the mission. As fun as this is.

The four columns at the four sides of the room towered high towards the ceiling, while on that painted ceiling there was a rather ornate display showing some things from the earlier days of the country. Paintings displaying the fights that had happened after the fall of communism that had brought about their current way of life and had seen the rise of House Chernov as one of the players on the national political scene. Nina’s eyes traveled down one of the columns, moving to the statues that were placed at different points around the room, which were a similar style… The largest of the statues was placed at the middle of the room and had a sword rising out of a base, and if one looked closer, they would see that even the base displayed a small scene of a battle going on, with tanks and soldiers cut from the marble and advancing towards each other…

At the rear of the room, the large wooden doors were being pulled open by a pair of servants, and the party that everyone was waiting for was entering… The one that had the Tzar, Prokhor Rosovky, at the center of it. Even for Nina, it was a slightly surreal moment - her father went to Magnitograd for the Imperial Court’s meetings often enough, as the representative of their house within the court, but she didn’t go on those trips too often for herself. So seeing something like this… Someone like this, that was… She found herself slightly star struck even with her own noble status.

She was looking at an upper class of noble, and she perhaps knew how her lowborn squadmates looked at her like. Her hands came together, clapping along with the others while the Tzar’s entrance was announced from the front of the room by the court official who was handling such tasks for the night - this announcement, of course, was more significant than the other ones - it included trumpets, the attention of everyone in the room, and the entire room standing up.

And then the Tzar made his way to his table near the front of his room along with his party, and Nina felt herself breathe again, the pressure of the moment dissipating as everything went smoothly and the key visitor of the night settled into his seat without any incident. Her family’s reputation rode on everything going well tonight - it was only natural that this moment had some nerves attached.

“Nina…” she could hear a voice saying, and she tuned to see her father, Dima Chernov, approaching now that the attention was away from the Tzar’s entrance and turning back to the various things everyone had focused on before that. “Hate to push this on you at the last minute, but some late plans were actually made about the visit tonight… You’re set to be the date for the Tzar’s third son, Matvei. The one that’s with the Eagles Brigade also-”

“A date?” Nina asked in surprise, losing her composure for a moment - her heart fluttered and her posture loosened in surprise, her drink shaking in her hand as she moved it quickly in surprise. “That’s… Unexpected for something with no warning.”

She had an immediate gut feeling that this had been set up for longer and that she was really only finding out about it right now. She suppressed it, however, deciding it was better to focus on what was in front of her rather than the potential causes of it. “The idea was actually presented by House Rosovsky, and you know things tend to go better for everyone when the Rosovskys are happy… You can go along with this, right? It’s a prestigious thing, dating one of the princes.”

“It’s just not what I expected,” Nina said, keeping her reaction calm for now, a hand moving to her chin while she considered it, before she posed a question. “You want me to go over there or something?”

“Assuming it isn’t too much to ask of you…”

She could say that it was but she did know that was pretty much asking to disappoint everyone above her in the family, and she knew that word would surely spread. That she’d had a chance to be on a date with one of the main princes and she had just turned it down for seemingly no reason. It was for the better if she accepted it. Even if it wasn’t exactly what she had come here looking for. “Er… Yeah, just gimme a minute to compose myself I guess, this is a real last minute thing you’re telling me about after all,” she said.

“I knew the family could count on you,” Dima said, slapping her on the shoulder and moving to walk away. “And it’s not too big of an ask. You’re a pretty social person. Just keep the prince entertained for a bit and I’m sure it will go perfect.”

“Right,” Nina replied, downing the rest of her drink in a quick motion before she set her eyes on the table with the Tzar, his wife, and some of the other more notable members of House Rosovsky… Including Matvei. She’d been prepared to see them here. What she hadn’t expected as having to talk to or go on a date with one of the top princes, with no warning at that. Despite it being a lot to throw on her however, and despite having her own reasons to be apprehensive about it, she went along with it.

Starting towards the table, she simply wished that it wasn’t going to have other bad effects for her…

I know it’s wrong to think about… But I wonder what Yaroslava would think about this… Especially after that night before.

“I don’t know about this…”

It’s night… We’re in Guzan, but we’re not at the She-ab Point base. No, this is something of a rest day for us and both of us decided that it would be more fun to take one of the trucks out and head to the nearby village. Abandoned, of course… Across Guzan, there’s plenty of these places that haven’t been touched for years by anything except for scavengers and time. Some of them are accessible, others are covered up by the sands, but the ones that are still out in the open like this one make for interesting exploration.

And we’re in one right now, at night, with only my flashlight guiding the way. We have some other things with us also… Vodka, in my backpack, as well as our guns in case we run into anything out here. Although, something tells me that at this point if we did run into something, which is unlikely now that our nearby base has scared off the scavengers from this spot, it’s unlikely we’d hit anything. We’re not quite drunk, but we are tipsy at the moment.

“You want to show up to base again half drunk?” I ask with a raised eyebrow… “We can do it in the early morning after this vodka’s out of my system-”

“That’s also suspicious as hell, Nina,” Yaroslava says, her words slurred somewhat. “If we head back now, there’s not going to be many people up to see us-”

“Thought you had a sense of adventure,” I tease, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her inside another one of the abandoned buildings, one that seemed to have some sort of administrative role in its past life. I’m not sober enough to bother analyzing it much and trying to figure out exactly what it is. I just know that it’s made of stone rather than the concrete of most of the buildings in this abandoned town, and the construction looks sturdier and the floor plan larger.

Yaroslava, however, is still hesitant. “I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t have one. That doesn’t change that we should be getting back by now…” she continued.

“You weren’t worried about that earlier…” I say with slurred words, throwing my arms over her shoulders and pulling her back.

“Hey-”

“The night’s still young, have some fun with me-”

We both go tumbling to the ground as Yaroslava wrestles me, our feet getting entangled with one another thanks to our drunken state. As we hit the ground with a thud, we find ourselves wrapped up in each other, but I’m not in any rush to move… There’s no one to see us, no one to interrupt, after all.

“Look… I like this and all, it’s just that…”

“It’s just that what?” I question, pulling myself closer, showing a hint of aggression as I get in her face - I’m not always the passive one between us, and the alcohol only helps to enhance my boldness tonight.

“You’re my commanding officer,” Yaroslava points out, letting out a little sigh. “Not that I care, but… I don’t know if it would go over well if anyone found out-”

“How is anyone going to find out? We’re in the middle of some ruins. We can do whatever we want out here-”

“Are we always going to be out here, though? Do we really want a taste of something we can’t have?”

I raise an eyebrow and stop, at that remark. It’s enough to force me to think, and a smirk crosses my face - it’s joined by the intensification of the slight blush that already existed on my face, for… I don’t know how long. It seems to be a result of the circumstances. The alcohol, the secluded location and the fact that we can do what we want, and the company that I’m sharing it with tonight… The company of only one other person.

“You’re telling me that you want another taste after this,” I say, my confidence not breaking even as I do consider the effects that Yaroslava has just warned me about. I’m not the type to hide things, but this is the type of thing that my family can’t know about… Forbidden love, perhaps, though it’s impossible to say if it’s hit the point of love yet.

Still, if it was just lust, why do I find myself drawn to this person even in entirely different contexts? Yaroslava is neither the hottest nor the most promiscuous member of the squad - not even in my own eyes, as I have to say that Nastja or Margarita would take the crown for the former title, but other things have drawn me in and led us to the point we’re at now… Her stories, her risks in the field, the fact that she’s… Even risked her own life for mine, beyond what is asked of for a normal soldier.

“I do, but I don’t know about what might happen because of it…”

The outcome of alcohol and isolation.

“I’m a noble and you know that… I can make sure nothing happens because of it… No one will find out and if anyone does I’ll be able to deal with it…” I say, before making my next move - not entirely out of my own will. It feels like the alcohol is pushing me in one direction, though I know deep down that it’s simply giving me the courage to do what I would have wanted to do one way or the other.

There’s no turning back at this point as our hands move across each other, both of us tangled up entirely with the other, any possible consequences seeming like a distant possibility that I can deal with easily. Fact of the matter is, I don’t know one hundred percent if I could throw out any difficulties.

But I do know I wouldn’t forgive myself if I held back here because someone important may take offense to it.

You only get one shot at life… Missing out on the fun parts because of being born into the nobility would be a damn shame.

SGT Yaroslava Androyeva, 2nd Eagles Brigade, Task Force 17
25km northwest of Javan, Emirate of Amiriyya
Murmere 16th, 251

“That’s fucking mortars!”

“They’re on the wall…”

“Put an AT round on the wall right there! NOW!”

The noise of the battle was intense, but Yaroslava did her best to cut it out of her mind and focus only on what she herself and her immediate squad had to do… Because if she focused on anything else, it would only drop her effectiveness. And that was the last thing they needed, as they ran through the desert, advancing towards the compound where one of the most wanted enemies of the Vojvodean Empire was hiding out, hopes of a capture or a killing in their minds. Hopes they’d reflected on for the entire flight over. Now, it was the time where they had to execute to make it happen. Sorouri wasn’t just going to turn herself over to them.

BOOM!

A mortar shell hit the ground not far from where the squad was running, kicking up chunks of dirt which would hit some of them, and kicking up enough smoke to cast a brief veil over what was ahead. The Sergeant wasn’t deterred, however, not even slowing down her pace. “They’re not accurate at night, keep moving!”

“Looked pretty fucking accurate to me!” Galina shouted out from behind, keeping her head down a bit more after the most recent attack.

“All the more reason to keep your ass moving…”

Yaroslava turned back from her squadmate and looked up to the outer compound wall where fire was being rained down on them with rifles and even a few machine guns. Seconds later, Vlada fired off an anti-tank rocket in the direction of it, hitting the point where there was a machine gun nest and causing it to crumble away, a few bodies falling too as the bricks collapsed and turned to dust under the pressure of the explosion.

She raised her own rifle, lining up the sights with her night vision goggles and dumping ammunition down range until she started hitting, a bullet going into the chest of one of the soldiers on the wall before she quickly shifted her stance and fired into the chest of a second one, taking out the rest of the section that had been next to the machine gun post.

“Shoot and move,” Margarita reminded her unit, her voice cutting through the sounds of the battle - she was raising it, speaking louder than she ever did under normal circumstances, really, and it was for good reason. In the middle of the chaos, it wasn’t entirely easy to hear everything that was going on…

“INCOMING!”

She wasn’t quite sure where the cry had come from, but someone in the squad had spotted someone on the wall with an RPG of their own, and shortly after, there was a rocket flying towards them...They were lucky it was the dark. The ground were it had hit exploded, a brief flash illuminating the area, and Margarita staggered as the one in the lead, the one that had been the closest to it. Instinctively, Yaroslava moved to grab her if the need called for it, but it didn’t in this case. “J-Just some shrapnel…” she said, looking down at the blood on her leg and determining she could keep going, shrugging off Yaroslava’s support as she gestured towards the gate. “Let’s keep moving…”

When they reached the gate, the other side was already preparing for the frontal assault. Breaching wasn’t required, because the wooden doors swung open as a squad of Shafadi militia moved up, firing steadily, but they would be at a distinct disadvantage due to the concentrated fire coming at them from all directions - perhaps they were simply coming out to delay, to keep the attacking force away from what they were here for… Sorouri would, of course, be in the process of escape by now. Which meant they had to pick up the rate they were working their way through the compound.

“Frag out!”

Yaroslava looked to the side and saw the statement was coming from Nastja, who hurled a grenade forwards towards the open entrance, forcing the soldiers to scramble… Their night vision flashed with white again, and there wasn’t anyone standing by the time it returned to the regular green color and they were able to clearly see what was ahead of them. It also wasn’t long before updated orders were fed to Margarita via radio.

A clash in the dark.

“Eagles Brigade, advance into the compound… Airborne will continue putting on pressure at the perimeter and the inner wall.”

“Everyone, inside!” Margarita commanded in turn, the entire unit moving through the gates carefully, ensuring there were no more enemies in that spot before rushing forward along the main road, looking back occasionally to see how the fight on the wall was going… “We’ll stop, wipe out the group on the wall, and then keep moving-”

“I don’t know if we have the time for that,” Yaroslava said through gritted teeth, turning her rifle towards the air and firing off once again at the defenders that were firing down from the elevated wall of the compound, forcing them to split their effort between them and the airborne soldiers outside.

“The alternative is giving them our backs…”

Yaroslava shrugged. “It’s night, and they didn’t see us moving through, but it’s too late to change our minds now…”

Didn’t seem like they were going to have a hard time dealing with the last resistance before they could move onto the inner compound, but difficulties arose when something very specific and very lethal was noticed - the sound of helicopter blades in the distance. “That’s a fucking helicopter, come on!”

“More than one of them if my ears aren’t lying,” growled Galina, spinning around to the direction the sound was coming from. Margarita stopped moving and pulled out a pair of binoculars, her eyes scanning across the horizon for whatever could be approaching them - and she stopped when she caught sight of it, a formation of helicopters, at least one of them a transport and a pair of them military in nature.

“Ah, FUCK, it’s a couple attack helos and a transport… Probably headed to extract their leader,” Margarita said with uncharacteristic volume, panicking slightly upon noticing those details and passing them on to her unit. “Is anyone even able to get a shot on these things or are we just fucked?”

“Too far right now,” Vlada said with gritted teeth as she also stopped and prepared to move for her AT launcher, but stopped herself after measuring out the range mentally. Perhaps the most dangerous factor, however, was that the helicopters were coming in fast - the transport was descending to land deeper in the massive compound and the attack helicopters were pushing forward like they were about to make an attack run.

“To that building, over there!” Margarita barked out, running off herself as the first in the file formation, abandoning any ideas about completely finishing off the group of enemies on the wall and rushing towards a larger building which was being used as a storeroom - and hopefully, by pressing themselves against the wall, they’d be less exposed to the incoming attack. “Is that even a fucking Amiriyyan chopper?”

Seconds after she spoke, unguided rocket fire lit up the area where they had been before moving, as the helicopters hovered over the battlefield and searched for their next targets, able to take it slowly thanks to having nothing on the battlefield that was a threat to take them down at the moment… Other than perhaps unreliable shots from the AT launcher, which wasn’t exactly meant for taking out an armored attack helicopter.

“Son of a bitch,” Yaroslava growled as she peeked out while the smoke cleared. “That’s… That’s not even an Amiriyyan one. The roundel is… Well… Those are the Sarvelians.”

Of course it was… The small country was always trying to work against Vojvodea where it could, for the purpose of protecting its own small influence in the region, over Amiriyya and over its own borders… It had been like that even before the Sarvelian War, when provocations from Sarvelia had prompted a Vojvodean invasion that ended in a temporary occupation but was regarded as a stalemate where the much smaller country had upheld the status quo successfully and repelled the occupiers following the war.

Now, they were at it again, attempting to subvert the Vojvodeans in this operation in a complete surprise intervention that hadn’t been picked up before, well, they changed the tide of the fight.

“Can’t fucking do anything about that, can we?” Yaroslava looked to Margarita for instructions.

The temporary leader simply lowered her head and started around the other side of the building, the one that wasn’t the closest to the two roaming helicopters, which were still in the area. “We move from cover to cover towards the other end of the compound and hope they either keep looking the other way or don’t want to destroy their own buildings…”

And so the others followed her in a single file line formation, keeping up a fairly good pace as they rushed and avoided spending too much time exposed in the open ground. That was, until further updates came over the radio, and they realized just how much things had changed with the entry of another side into the conflict.

“Eagle Knights, this is the 15th… We are receiving orders to begin a withdrawal. Enemy air support is in the area and the Sarvelian Air Force is currently evacuating Sorouri and her staff onboard a transport helicopter… I repeat, Sarvelian Air Force helicopters are present and one transport is evacuating Parisa Sorouri… Over.”

“Damn it to hell,” muttered Yaroslava, driving her fist into the wall in frustration as Margarita held up her hand to get them to stop in their tracks. “This is what we get for our work?” she added, clenching a fist before looking back in the other direction. “But if the 15th is getting out of here, we should get the hell out of here too…”

That was the reality they were trapped with - despite their effort in fighting to get into the inner compound, the surprise inclusion of another side had turned an overwhelmed militia into a force that could hold out just long enough to get their most important people out… Removing the reason why they were attacking this compound in the first place. Maybe just air striking it and not starting an attack like this would have been simpler and easier, but they had gone for the sure thing, the thing that could give them the confirmed kill and not have their enemy appear again in a couple of weeks commanding these militia forces with the newfound infamy of someone that had ‘come back from the dead…’ For their gamble, they paid the price of allowing the Sarvelians to tip the balance, taking a result in this battle that would have to be described as a loss just because of the outcome.

“If you were here, would it have been different?” Yaroslava muttered under her breath - referring, of course, to Nina, and the sudden absence of hers before this operation…

She shook the thoughts out of her mind. No need to blame their leader here. There was nothing they could do, they’d been held up at this point too much to accomplish their goals, and they’d have to move too slowly to avoid the helicopters and make it to the destination. And then they would have to get out. Long story short, it was impossible.

Yaroslava was sure of one thing, however, which was that the Sarvelian forces would pay for their sudden and surprising evacuation of one of the top enemies of the Vojvodean crown.

by **Valefontaine** » Thu Mar 05, 2020 4:39 am

S1E7
Collab with Tangaliro
_{GUNDANCER A.E. 251}

Gemeka gets a new job tracking down a mercenary. Meanwhile, Sin-Nasir meets with powerful players...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gundancer A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 5
"Night of the Monkey's Paw"

Auspicious District
Armannu

Belutene al-Maturoch
Murmere 8, 251 AE
8:30 PM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

It's hunting time. Drug deal in the Auspicious District, a few short blocks off Century Avenue. I've got an A-44 in hand, one of the finer pieces in my collection. The rooftop is an advantageous position, and the rifle makes business a helluva lot easier.

Euphemian gang, Turmenistan gang— fresh out of New Arcadia, perhaps. Only way to tell them apart is skin color, and even then you get a few Turmenistans who don't fit the bill.

The latest trend on television is high-stakes crime drama. Neon-tinted alleyways, orange sunrise horizons, beautiful women, towering highrises and the ever-flowing morphine drip that is the drug business. Most people assume it's fiction, that there's no way things could be this crazy... our brains have a way of trying to keep things boring.

But it's real, almost to a tee. They only fail in accuracy by making the cops competent. So I was watching this show the other day—

Fuck. Right, anyway. I've got the man in my sights. Late thirties, mid-forties maybe. Real sleazebag type, halfwit face complete with suit and tie. He's working something out with the Arcadians, the usual business. I prepare my shot.

From the rooftops, Gemeka silently observed the scene laid before her in the obscure alleyway below. Both groups were armed, naturally— a reminder of how these things could be equally tense and dangerous.

With the rifle in hand, she steadied her breath. It was in situations like these that observing with care was vital — she'd practically triple checked to ensure she was the only one with a sharpshooting angle.

The target was hers, and the poor bastard didn't even know it. Bringing her scope to rest on the man's head, Gemeka's hand squeezed the trigger.

BANG

Shithead's brains decorate the sedan behind him almost instantly as I duck.

---==============---

Another successful job.

All hell breaks loose. When I peer again, it's a complete and utter massacre before my very eyes: both gangs now going at each other, the shooting complemented by screaming, hollering and a plethora of racial slurs. It's a good time to take my leave... and that's exactly what I do.

From her apartment, Gemeka had a fair view of the city bustle in the Auspicious District beyond. Neon glows, orange hues, the distant echo off advertisements and commercials — it seemed vacations to Timorius were all the rage. The radio echoed with a familiar song as the Gundancer reclined in her chair, evaluating what'd happened thus far... from Bluebook, to the Eridanians, to what'd happened with Valora, to the broadcast... there was something amiss, and not just in Armannu. Gemeka was certain of that much, at least.

---==============---

Something is afoot in Armannu.

Something was afoot far greater than anything she could hope to comprehend... and she'd get to the bottom of it somehow, eventually.

I sigh. It's another one of those days — the ones where I'm alone with my thoughts and my pay. The former's much more of a pain in the ass, though.

ping.

Guess that's one way to interrupt the silence.

A JOB REQUEST HAS BEEN PERSONALLY FILED TO YOU, USER#9857

ESCORT SERVICES
CLIENT: Anonymous
RISK: High
PAY: 15,000 Kaspu
Details will be given upon meeting. Zhu Dynasty Embassy. Be There by 9PM.

ACCEPT | REFUSE

Fifteen thousand Kaspu? That's a goddamn fortune. And this one's for me personally... it seems to be an offer I cannot refuse. I accept, of course — and then I get ready.

I arrive at the Zhu embassy ten minutes early. The diplomatic promenade is chaotic... it seems the Avarecian embassy has been bombed. Security's tight, naturally. Even as smoke fills the air, I keep my cool as I ignore the scenes of the dying and wounded being carted away into ambulances, approaching the Zhu embassy. Terrorism isn't commonplace in Maturoch — this is either the beginning of an international incident or something more nefarious.

That's about as much thought as I give the scene as I reach the gates.

Standing before the security kiosk, Gemeka revealed her own cylindrical identification seal to the security guard. "My presence is expected." She said flatly, eyes studying the armed guard within.

“Hello again, Red Jacket.” The armed guard inside the kiosk greeted Gemeka, opening the iron gates of the embassy.

It seems I've earned myself a nickname. Red Jacket... well, he's not wrong.

Gemeka paused, as if to speak, but the guard in question answered her question almost immediately.

“The man has been expecting you. Second Floor, Block C, that’s where he is.”

Before Gemeka could start towards the embassy grounds, the guard's words gave her pause. “By the way, you have done the right thing that night. I was there at the kiosk that night. While I did not hear anything, I saw it all. I wish you good luck.”

The Gundancer was briefly taken aback, before returning the compliment with a nod. "..just doing the right thing."

Is it about doing the right thing? Money? My actions... at least they help somebody, right? I always tell myself it's about money.. but maybe there is good in the world worth standing for.

Those thoughts linger as I enter the embassy, ascending the steps to enter. The atmosphere is tense — of course it is, given what's happened down the block — and I keep my mouth shut as I take the stairs up to the second floor. The sirens on the street still echo, and most staff are too distracted by the chaos outside to give my passing by much note.

Block C, he said. It doesn't take long to get there, thank Muxen — the maze of corridors and offices can almost be mind-numbing at times. The office within is spacious, Zhu flags flanking a desk overlooking dimmed windows.

“I have been expecting you, Miss Gemeka.” A man in black leather trench coat turned around as she entered. He wasn't much older than Gemeka, his features belying much of note for a Sinican. Beside him was a somewhat familiar figure: Valora Cortez. The girl maintained her silence, worry across her features... perhaps the embassy incident nearby had gotten to her head.

"You're not supposed to know my name," Gemeka retorted, maintaining her composure. "but I would expect no less from a foreign spook. What's the nature of this job?" Gemeka eyed Valora with caution, before shifting her gaze to the man himself. "I presume it has something to do with my previous job."

“I suppose it was a little reckless of me to directly call out your name,” The man chuckled. “But to speak business, the first thing is to establish trust, so I decided not to hold back the truth that we already know your name. The name is Yan Liang, you may just call me Liang.”

"Fair enough... but you haven't answered my question."

“I think that, yourself being Valora’s former guardian, you know far better than us how many people are going after the poor girl. She is safe here in the embassy building, yes, but no one can speak for how long. In this world, there are more than enough people desperate enough to attack even a country’s embassy if paid a good fortune.” He gestured outside, signifying what just happened a few blocks away.

"I assure you this isn't commonplace in Armannu," Gemeka briefly chuckled before getting to the point. "..I wouldn't consider myself a guardian. She was my client, and I was doing what was asked of me." Gemeka paused... she knew it was a lie, that it'd been personal that time — that she'd gone above and beyond her usual to protect Valora. "What of it?"

Yan Liang seemed to stare into Gemeka, before looking to Valora. It was as if he already knew. Smiling, he continued. “Alright, before being a spook or a gundancer, we are all but human. Let us all assume you are just doing your job. However, since you are the one who had protected Valora, and performed excellently, I, no, all of us from here to the top brass in Kaitian all believe you are the person we are looking for. A local person we can trust, and a local person that can fight well. We are going to evacuate her out of this place soon. I promise you she’d be put under good care and protection, but everything we can promise here would be for naught if we, touchwood, could not bring her out of this city safely.”

"I assumed as much," Gemeka solemnly noted. "Where do you intend to fly her out? AIA?"

“Armannu International Airport, Providence District. I assume that is the closest one you can find in this city to this embassy?”

"It is." Gemeka agreed. "I must remind you, however, that I serve my government first and foremost as an agent of the Agency of Order. A fancy diplomatic motorcade is out of the question — because there'll be a PR nightmare for Maturoch the moment it becomes an ambush, which it will. Look outside — look at the flames, the bodies in the streets... the chaos. It's best to use the smoke and mirrors to make a clean getaway to the airport on foot... and then we can take the M Line straight to AIA."

“Wise take.” Liang nodded. “We found the right person for the task, I can say. Do not worry, if anything, we want to get her out of town as quietly as possible. We wouldn’t accept a diplomatic motorcade even if we are offered one. The last thing you want when people are going after your head is attention, I think we are in agreement here.”

"Fair enough." Gemeka's gaze shifted to Valora for a moment, before returning to Liang. "You're a spook... but are you a fighter? It's rare a client personally joins me on the job."

“We all are.” Yan Liang chuckled, gesturing to a team of special operators to enter the room.

They're armed to the teeth, but it goes without saying. I'm accustomed to working alone... but I'm getting paid, so at least I've got something to look forward to.

“The Black Uniform Guard Dare-to-Die Corps is always ready to fight and die for the Empire. That is our sole purpose.”

"I don't mind working with a team," Gemeka began, drawing and readying her own BA-66 shotgun. "Ready when you are."

“We are always ready.” Yan Liang readied his Jianye Type-201 Submachine Gun.

Valora finally spoke up, still cautious in the wake of the tension. "..my life is in your care." She lightly bowed out of respect.

"We're not going to let you down," Gemeka concurred.

We get moving with haste. It isn't long before we're slipping past the chaos on the street, flames still billowing from the Avarecian embassy in the background. The Providence District is a maze that is equal parts beautiful and a tribute to foreign cultures that are not our own. Sometimes it has less charm than the home I know — the Auspicious District.

Some on the street wonder if the Euphemians are playing a cruel trick with their weapons in space... the paranoia always does hang over a lot of people.

“Why are these people so paranoid?” One of the Dare-to-Die Corp operators asked.

The question gave Gemeka pause as they entered one of the alleyways — perhaps it'd struck a nerve. "Did the Euphemians glass your homeland during the Vestan Wars? Some fear the Euphemians because that's all they've ever known... and their ships are still up there, reigning over the heavens. What stops them from doing it again?"

“Nothing for now indeed.” Yan Liang was keeping his eyes on the streets. “But there will be.”

"If I'm to be honest, whatever happened at the embassy is the beginning of another clusterfuck entirely. I'm almost relieved it's none of my business." Gemeka noted, before continuing on through the alley.

Past the alley we are greeted by Aluwazi Street. I would call it a street market, but the nature of the Providence District means it's been gentrified to unrecognizable levels... at this point an open-air mall is a more apt description.

I remember my youth, and how much things have changed since then. The city's living, breathing, constantly striding forth towards progress... but at what cost?

I keep the guns subtle as we slip into the usual monkeymass of late night shoppers, thoughts hanging over me as we continue on. M Line's the easiest way to AIA, but its stop is on Wasti and 42nd — a good fifteen more minutes of walking, give or take.

Amidst the shoppers, something breaks the flow — I see them almost immediately: six masked men, more machine than flesh. They fit the 'foreign spook' niche quite well... some just scream 'spawn of an authoritarian regime' in the way they compose themselves.

"You've got something we want," The apparent leader of the group said, voice distorted by his own modulator augments. "I'd kindly ask you hand it over."

“If trouble is what you desire, kindly.” Yan said, his hands in his coat.

Without warning, one of the augmented assassins leapt forth, driving his blade into one of the guards. The shrill gurgle was enough to send both sides into a mixture of martial arts and blade dueling, metal clashing as Valora cowered with fear.

I react. Lunging forward, one of the men swiftly dashes out of the way. These people are good — better, perhaps, than the usual killers for hire.

One of the Zhuese guards drew his electrified daggers, charging forward. To his surprise, his target quickly rolled aside, dodging the first stab. The guard, seeing his enemy had fallen into his trick, had quickly swung his other dagger with the intent to slash the man's throat. He had underestimated the Vesperanzan agent's agility, however, as the cyborg assassin swiftly evaded the deception with a backflip. The guard remained persistent, however, kicking the assassin as he retreated, using the force of the kick to bounce back. With a flip mid-air, he landed a steady distance away from his target. “Damn it, these tin-headed sons-of-bitches got some moves!”

But my mind's on something else. A shrill gurgle briefly garners my attention — another member of the detachment is killed, arterial spray decorating the wall of the alleyway as the Vesperanzan pulls his blade away from the man's throat. He's distracted... and I make my move. Leaping past a few other duels, I drive my blade into the back of the agent, a loud crack resonating as my patru sword connects with his spine. Sparks fly as I kick him to the wall, drawing my sawed-off and emptying 12 gauge buckshot into his back. He's dead for sure.

“You sure are some hard nuts to crack!” Yan said, before lunging forward with his Dao. His blade was much akin to an Utsanji katana, yet bore marked differences — particularly, the blade was straighter, heavier... yet nonetheless bent to Yan's will almost effortlessly.

His foe dodged the initial swing, the blade missing his mechanical jawline by mere inches. The Vesperanzan took a few steps back, readying his own blade. With a swift dash, he attempted to cut Yan down. With haste, Yan quickly rolled to his foe’s right before sending his blade into the torso of the man, shredding through cybernetic augments and flesh alike as he impaled the agent.

Yan showed no hesitation, pulling his blade out as blood decorated the pavement. With an upward swing, he cut loose the right arm of the man, sending the assassin staggering back in agony. The man had sealed his fate — and Yan gracefully slit the Vesperanzan's throat.

With a kick, Yan pulled his blade forth from his opponent's throat. With a graceful swing, he flicked away blood and viscera from his blade, looking to his next target with a predatory gaze.

He's pretty good. Blades clash as the battle fiercely unfolds around me, but my focus is on one particular assassin. With a jump I send myself to the walls of the alleyway, swinging from above as my blade shreds through the cyborg's chest, viscera and sparks flying as I give my sword a light twist. Before one of his friends can take advantage, I pull my blade free and kick the limp form of the enemy back, stopping another opponent's electrostaff as I recoil back to compose myself.

CRASH

Another one of the guards falls limp as his face is pulverized by a well-angled swing. Blood spills as he collapses, Vesperanzan agent turning around as he assumes a defensive posture once more. Their efficiency is inhuman, almost robotic — for obvious reasons, perhaps.

Before he can make a move on Yan, I roll over, putting myself between the two men. I feel time slow as my opponent's blade looms above me, myself outsmarting his expectations by a mixture of skill and luck.

My blade pierces his gut, and I drive the patru upwards before I finally pull it out, blood decorating my jacket as I roll between his legs. Pedro's lived his last rodeo, it seems.

"It'll be a lot easier for the both of us if you just hand her over," The apparent leader — one of the two remaining assassins — pulled his blade free from one of the dying black guards, blood dripping from the steely tip as he approached.

Gemeka assumed a defensive posture — only to be direly caught off guard as the man lunged past her, decapitating another one of the guards with ease.

"Tiamat will burn... and all for what, the excess and vanity of one girl?" questioned the man. Tension was rife in the air, the Gundancer standing with Yan and the surviving black guard as they faced the two Vesperanzan agents.

“Clever attempts of argument, nuts. You were the one who started this war invading the home of this girl, imprisoning his father and enslaving her brethren. It is quite fascinating you could still talk as if you’re the victim of your nonsense.”

"Hah! You only delay the inevitable. Our victory is assured."

I'm not getting paid to spectate a political argument.

Yan sent his reply to the foe with a palm to his face, sending the man flying. When was finally stopped hitting a wall and landing on the ground, his companions were astonished to realize the man was already killed by the sheer force of the push.

“Well said indeed, I delayed the inevitable end to your laughable life with blather!”

The scene gives me pause — and I find myself narrowly avoiding the last assassin's blade as it cuts mere inches from my face. I roll back and compose myself. Evidently they'll fight to the last — and I'll do the same.

The remaining guard quickly flanked the remaining assassin, weaving past as his work became apparent moments later, blood spraying forth from the augmented assassin's throat. With a brief stagger, the last agent collapsed, his deathly gurgles soon diminishing as life escaped his form. The guard spat upon the dead assassin with disdain. “What a bunch of bastards. They needed all these mechanical augmentation to catch up with this. I cannot believe these morons managed to kill four of us!”

"Clear," Gemeka announced, returning to her feet as she looked Valora's way. The girl had cowered amidst the dumpsters in the alleyway as the fight had unfolded, and the look in her eyes spoke measures to her own terror. "We shouldn't be far from the station. These assassins are good... the Kingdom's sending their best."

“Sorry for all these terrible sights, kid.” Yan wiped the blood off of his gloved right hand. He walked to where the girl cowered, crouched down, extending his hand to Valora with the most gentle face he could manage at the moment. “You never deserved any of these, but sometimes the truth is hard to swallow. Can you still walk?”

The girl solemnly nodded, getting back up. "..y—yes.."

"If they've sent six, they'll surely send more. We should get moving." Gemeka advised, sheathing her blade as she reached for something equally trusty: her shotgun.

“Agreed.” Yan nodded, his blade still in his left hand, he seemed to hold little intent to draw out a gun at the moment. It was clear, however, his coat concealed more firearms, were the situation to demand their usage...

We get moving once more. The fight goes relatively unnoticed amidst the chaos of the Avarece embassy attack, smoke billowing blocks away as we continue walking. The mood is a solemn one, after the casualties the guards have taken. I'm not one to make casual conversation in situations like these, of course.

Rounding a street corner, the group weaved their way through the busy sidewalk, passing tired bystanders that did little more than bat an eye, if at all.

"Are we safe..?" Valora questioned, keeping rather close to her protectors as they continued on.

"I don't know." Gemeka flatly replied.

“I think not.” Yan said. “You’re too valuable for them to let go this easily.”

“We’ll beat them back each time they come.” The surviving guard said. “Knowing what happened so far, I am not ashamed to admit, I would probably die in this, but you can count of sir Liang and that woman.” The guard turned to Valora, making a thumbs up with a smile. Despite the fate of his peers, he remained unafraid. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand here speaking with you guys, but I have no regrets signing up for this. We’re just doing the right thing. If I am to die in this, I died protecting an innocent girl, my family would be proud.”

Yan did not speak, offering only a light, solemn nod.

We're almost at Ligish street. As we approach, I stop. Glancing up, I see four more of them, leaping down from one of the theatre rooftops. With shotgun in hand I waste one of them, yelling for the others to hurry for cover amidst the parked cars. Bystanders on the street flee, naturally. The body of the man I've wasted hits the sidewalk in a visceral mess, painting the dust-tinged concrete with deep crimson. Without further thought, I bolt for one of the parked cars, finding cover behind a taxi.

The lone guard quickly bolted towards a nearby sedan, rolling into cover. He quickly drew out his submachine gun and laid waste on one of the remaining three assassins before getting back into cover.

“Guess at least I proved my worth!”

Yan, on the other hand, was quick to draw out a Hezi Pao pistol from his coat, firing as he ran for cover. Despite being on the move, his aim proved true as the bullet connected with the assassin's skull, killing him instantly. With haste, he slipped into cover, firearm at the ready. Gemeka had plans, however.

Before the last man can react, I've already made my move. Vaulting over the car, I drive my blade through his chest, twisting it for a moment before I finally pull it out, the augmented assassin falling limp as he collapses against the pavement.

Lowering her blade, Gemeka turned to the others. "Just like that. Keep your eyes open, we're almost there!"

“Once we are at the airport, there will be reinforcements.” Yan said. “But first we need to make it out of here alive.”

He turned to the surviving guard. “You’ve fought bravely and survived so far, may I learn your name?”

“Zhang Zhongcheng, sir.” The guard replied. “Let’s save the rest of the talking to after we make it our alive.”

“Very well.” Yan looked around to his surroundings, before turning back to Gemeka. “Let’s go.”

A rain has picked up by the time we reach the tarmac. A chartered flight awaits... security is tight. The bloodshed will surely make the morning news. Even as all remains under lockdown, I still feel an uncertainty — and thus my guard is raised as we approach the plane.

---==============---

The beginning of a better tomorrow.

"You two fought well," Gemeka complimented as the group approached the upward steps leading to the aircraft. "Perhaps there's more to life than just going it alone."

“Thanks.” Yan said. “You fought well too. Perhaps the best I’ve seen in awhile, but I agree, there’s more to life than just going it alone. It is a blessing to have someone to watch your back in battle sometimes.”

“Even though, I must admit, sometimes I would rather hope they weren’t there on the battlefield in the first place.” He said, looking away, in a more serious tone, regarding his fallen comrades.

"I owe all of you my life," Valora's voice quivered with emotion as she stood in the rain. With little warning, she practically jumped to Gemeka, hugging the Gundancer tightly as she held back tears. "..and thank you, Gemeka."

I don't particularly like it when people know my name. Business and life, overlapping... not a pleasant thing. But I'll let it slide, just this once. I think it's something good to be remembered by.

"...just doing my job." Gemeka plainly replied, holding back a few emotions of her own. It didn't take long for her attention to drag itself elsewhere, however, as she looked to the two men. "I believe I am owed fifteen-thousand Kaspu, as agreed upon."

“Of course.” Yan Liang nodded. Reaching into his coat pocket, he produced from his wallet a bank check, leaving it in Gemeka's hands. “I assume you’d rather not drag along a bag of cash on your way home.”

With that, the two men began up the steps, leaving Gemeka momentarily alone with Valora. "By the way," Gemeka spoke up, stopping the girl as she turned to leave. "Stay safe out there. Life hits when you least expect it.. and a lot of people are putting their trust in you now. Keep your head up, kid."

This warranted a smile from the girl as she nodded. "I won't let all of this be in vain. Farewell, Gundancer."

“You may not think it yet, but we have altered the course of history, hopefully, to a better end.” Yan had suddenly stopped, turning back. “No matter as a Black-Uniformed Guard or as a person, I must thank you.”

"I'm just doing what's right. Now you just need to get out of Armannu in one piece." Gemeka advised, standing before the steps to the plane.

Yan reached for his neck, pulling off something and tossed it to Gemeka. It was a necklace of glimmering jade, bearing the symbol of a vermilion bird. “Just take it as a souvenir, it fits you nicely. While I do not know how you may feel about us, you do have my respect.” Transcendental of our identities as spooks and mercenaries, we are all human. You should not feel shame for heeding your conscience and doing what you believe to be right.” Yan left her with his words as turned back to the steps, beginning towards the passenger door of the aircraft once more. “Farewell. We may or may not meet again.”

Gemeka looked down to the jade necklace, before watching the passenger door close. She was alone now — with nobody but herself and the rain as she watched the aircraft begin its departure. "...farewell."

I'm fifteen-thousand Kaspu richer, and I think I've just made some people very happy. I believe this is what they call networking... and hell, I can't help but feel a little good about myself. Maybe it is possible to do a little bit of good in this city.

And maybe it's time to get a nicer apartment.

"Right in the goddamn lion's den, are we?"

Sin-Nasir was far from pleased with their new assignment. To be specific, they were to embark into the beating heart of the very Kingdom they now exchanged blows with at sea. While the naval conflict had, to some degree, calmed down, the point was still rather clear that the two states stood at the brink of conflict, with the occupation of San Eliseo. Paired with the civil war raging through Vesperanze, a meeting had been called — one that involved all of the involved powers in the conflict, alongside Maturoch.

To that end, Sin-Nasir and Amarsin were to be the Maturochi delegation.

It's a chartered flight, a provision of the Department of State's Flights and Foreign Travels Bureau. The aircraft slows upon the tarmac as the airport — and the crowded cityscape of Ciudad Tiedra — come into view, bathed in the morning light.

"Afraid, Sin-Nasir?" questioned Amarsin, half-teasingly.

Sin-Nasir shook his head. "I do not fear agents of a state that cannot even properly rule itself."

Slowly the plane comes to a halt. Our security detail is small — two armed guards escort us as we leave the plane. They're with the Agency of Order, so they're probably good at what they do. Our vehicle of choice is a black Irarum V460 sedan, courtesy of the embassy.

The drive begins. The city streets are a clear demonstration of order trying to impose itself upon disorder: armed, masked soldiers oversee crowded city streets and open-air markets. Propaganda of the Kingdom is plastered upon walls, occasionally defaced by the ever-present agents of the Communist rebels. Advertisements, billboards and signs seem to decorate every worn-down building that lines these streets, and I occasionally witness the guests of honor in this city — Euphemian troops.

Their presence is well-known to the Department, and is our main concern in interfering in Vesperanze. To the surprise of perhaps nobody at all, our government takes the presence of a nation capable of flattening us from orbit with caution.

Our destination: the Maturochi embassy. It will be our temporary residence until the pivotal meeting is to take place...

---==============---

Tiedra streets.

"I would very much rather handle arming lunar rebels..." Sin-Nasir scoffed at the sights beyond the dimmed glass windows of the automobile, shaking his head.

"Maybe we can get a transfer if we get things done right." Amarsin thought aloud.

"What exactly constitutes... 'getting it right'?" asked Sin-Nasir, raising an eyebrow.

Her reply was simple, if not rehearsed. "Achieving an end beneficial to the state's interests."

To this, Sin-Nasir thought for a moment, his mind wandering to the current geopolitical situation in Vesperanze. A three way civil war, along with the occupation of San Eliseo, meant the Kingdom of Vesperanze was at odds with the extremist National Volkist movement, the People's Republic of Vesperanze, and Elisean resistance forces. They, by no means, carried leverage.

I already know what I will do.

"Do you suppose, then, that under these parameters keeping them divided would be in our best interest?" He asked, curiously prodding his coworker for her own views.

"I had considered coaxing the communists and the volkists into an uneasy alliance..." said Amarsin, stroking her chin.

"Uniting their cause, be it in any form, could prove troublesome going forward. Do you suppose it would... alter their thinking if we were to discuss the various atrocities perpetrated in Serafim, following the Royal Vesperanze Navy's defeat?" Sin-Nasir questioned.

"..I believe it would be a pertinent matter to raise, yes." Amarsin agreed.

"Then this will be no 'peace accord'... surely you think the same as I do?"

"This war is in need of a little escalation on the home front... Surely, we can drive them beyond any form of reconcile and negotiation. I can arrange for a few incidents on the eve of the meeting."

I've got to be honest... I'm starting to love this job.

by **Forest State** » Fri Mar 06, 2020 12:31 pm

BLACK GOLD - EPISODE 6
_{OIL WAR}

Following the unsuccessful operation to capture Parisa Sorouri, the Vojvodean invasion of Amiriyya has begun in earnest - beginning with the Voronov Group making aggressive moves to install a Bahrizadi-Vojvodean administration in the oil rich north of the country, aided by government air power and led by a rising and resolute officer.

CMP LDR. Nevena Voronov, Devils Company, Voronov Group
Dejan, Tribes of Amiriyya
Murmere 22nd, 251

The woman wasn’t the prettiest face… At least, not according to conventional wisdom.

Her face was marked with the scars of battle, not from a military conflict but from the battle with illness that had almost taken her life when she was a child - the Blood Flu that had played no small role in the collapse of communist rule in Vojvodea, back in the earliest days of the country, was largely harmless right now but from time to time there would be a strain that reminded everyone just why it had been so damaging in the past… While most people simply needed to spend some time resting and they would be fine after getting it, she had been one of the unlucky ones to get the rare B4K10 strain, which didn’t just result in terrible pains but in scarring of the tissue, too. Including, of course, the face.

There was a reason she was known as “Scarface” to some, and that battle with the illness had cost her whatever shot she had at being one of the faces of the Voronov family. How could someone be the face of such an elegant family, after all, with a face that looked like it belonged to a criminal from the streets? She’d looked that way since before she fought her first battle, but the scars were purely from illness rather than knives and shrapnel. Didn’t change how it looked, though.

Nevena Voronova had been on the path of the soldier for her entire life, and the way she looked played a big role in it. No one expected her to be anything else when they set their eyes on her for the first time, even though they were almost always surprised by it. Someone from House Voronov, from the grand city of Lyachevo with its beaches and palaces and its luxurious noble family, should have grown up in the lap of luxury, they always thought… But she just didn’t look like someone that did. She looked like someone that had lived a hard life and it became a self fulfilling prophecy. Rather than rest back and work within the business world, or work in the military from a distance, she had went into the family defense company as a soldier, ready to earn the right to wear the ‘battle scars’ that she had never asked for.

Because if they were going to force her into the box of being the tough one, of being the soldier, she was going to do a damn good job at it rather than shrinking away and correcting people each time, saying that she had actually never fought… And if she couldn’t move through the ranks of the family by specializing in their typical specialties, she could prove that the Voronovs were just as good when it came to other things, too. Including warfare, something that was traditionally associated with some of the other famous houses of the country, including the House Rosovsky that was in power and had been for the longest time.

An inhospitable land.

A Voronov never settled for good enough, they said. Even if she didn’t look like the other Voronovs, she intended to follow in their footsteps and made sure that motto held true.

It was the reason she was out here in this desert hellhole right now, riding in the back of an open all terrain vehicle as her and other contractors from the Voronov Group rapidly approached the strip of oil fields to the immediate east of the city of Dejan, which was held by the Vojvodeans and the Bahrizadi tribe for now against the Shafadi - in the conflict against Amiriyya, this was perhaps one of the most important locations, for it was the most oil rich part of the country. The very thing that the Shafadi wanted to nationalize that had seen the conflict start in the first place.

This was also one of the first chances to more directly avenge the deaths of her countrymen that had started the conflict in the first place… Their attacks on these oil fields hadn’t been forgotten, and soon enough, the Vojvodean forces were about to deliver an assault to rival the original one of Parisa Sorouri and her men. The importance of the date and the events that were about to transpire wasn’t lost on Nevana. In fact, she was one of the ones that had reminded her soldiers of it.

“You hear that?” she shouted, holding on as she held onto the speeding four wheeled recce vehicle quite unsafely, using the cage that surrounded the currently full passenger area as a grip to hold on and add to the overall capacity… Wasn’t the safest thing but they were in a war and nothing they were doing at the moment was safe. She was more worried about getting hit with indirect fire than she was falling off… Ahead of her, the contractor manning the machine gun had a better view of what was ahead than she did, but she could still hear.

“What would that be?” the machine gunner shouted back in her direction, looking over his shoulder briefly but turning his head back forward after a moment, keeping his eyes down range towards the oil field which was approaching in the distance.

Approaching the enemy.

“Already got contact, fuckers are shooting at us from out here…” Nevena replied with a chuckle - while she understood how the situation was serious, she could still have some fun with things and enjoy the thrill of combat… A resolute soldier like her still had to smile some of the time, and there was an undeniable adrenaline rush from it all.

“Yeah, I hear it now… They’re in for a rude awakening once the death from above shows up,” the machine gunner replied. They had air support from the Imperial Vojvodean Air Force in this case, which would be extremely useful in breaking down the enemy defenses so they were just left to clean up - it was how a unit like theirs could take on the larger Shafadi force that was massed at the oil fields, preparing for an assault on Dejan that likely wouldn’t happen now.

Switching her attention, Nevena reached with one hand for her radio and spoke over the mission communications channel to the leader of the Bahrizadi Popular Action militia, which was allied with the Vojvodeans in this case thanks to the Shafadi’s genocide attempt against them - while they had some reservations of their own about foreign help, Minu Shazan had eventually decided in the end that it was better to work with a potential outside rival than end up dead entirely to one’s own countrymen.

Voronov Systems Data Viewer
[VORGROUP] [CMP LDR] Nevena Voronov - “This is Devils Company leader… Commander Shazan, are your militia forces all in place for the in progress attack?”

[BPA] [CMDR] Minu Shazan - “Aye… Everyone’s on the move as we speak, and everyone’s in the correct formation. Expect precision and speed form our force…”

[VORGROUP] [CMP LDR] Nevena Voronov - “Perfect. Air support is incoming soon… Bombers on station. Just wait for them to get the lase and the Shafadi sons of bitches will get a new hell thrown at ‘em… That will be the signal. Understood?”

[BPA] [CMDR] Minu Shazan - “Affirmative.”

As the fire continued coming towards them from long range, the drilling stations visible off in the distance as well as the rough defensive positions set up by the Shafadi, Nevena dropped from behind the recce car and called over the JTAC. “Alright, time to coordinate with the drone team.. Should be on station right now and just waiting for the orders to make the moves,” she said, taking the phone from the JTAC’s backpack and beginning the process of the air strikes.

Voronov Systems Data Viewer
[VORGROUP] [CMP LDR] Nevena Voronov - “Shooter-1, this is Devils-1… You may begin identifying targets for the air forces. The Shafadi fighters have set up several barricades ahead, and it looks like the command structures for the oil field have been turned into part of their base. Requesting strikes on each of these positions, over.”

[VORGROUP] [DRONE INTL. OFFCR] [UV-13 CHARIOT] Kara Igoshina - “Devils-1, this is Shootes-1. Directing drone support to your location right now… Marking the control center first. Expect the Vor-211s to begin delivering their payload shortly… Enough range on the things to fire as soon as we have the mark.”

“Keep your eyes looking towards the distance,” said Nevena, crouching down along with the rest of her squad while they looked on at the scene ahead of them - the oil wells and the fortifications around them, slightly downhill from their position and visible amid the heat distortions which rose up from the ground slowly, giving a hazy look to the entire scene. The surroundings out here weren’t the greatest that a soldier could ask for, but when they had signed up for this, they were volunteering to go all over the world. Just so happened that it wasn’t the most hospitable part of the world that they were in, at least not on this day in specific where the desert had heated up quite well.

On another day, perhaps, it could have been freezing out here. “Just want the Swans to do their thing so we can get out of here for a bitm” said one of her other soldiers.

“I’m sure that at this rate, the Swan’s already over here… Just have to wait for the bomb to drop.”

Indeed, in the clouds above the conflict, the Voronov Group’s UAV component as already working hand in hand with the state Air Forces to pound the enemy from above - the Chariot drone could see from further up than Shafadi AAA could shoot, and without having to worry about seriously dangerous SAMs in this area thanks to the aging inventory of the SPF, it meant that the drone could essentially move around with impunity. It circled the field of battle, and notably, the drone itself was unarmed… The important thing was the camera, and the laser pointer, not the loadout.

Further back from where the battle was actually taking place, there was a small trailer set up with only a pair of APCs defending it. The site was unassuming but within the trailer was the UAV crew, and Drone Intelligence Officer Kara Igoshina didn’t intend on messing up with this mission and costing them the objective. On the black and white FLIR screens within the trailer, displaying a clear picture of the battlefield below, a significant part of the fight was about to be decided…

Identifying the target had been easy based on the fortifications set up on the building, as well as the Amiriyyan flags around it and the presence of a smaller amount of armored and mechanized vehicles - the things that the Shafadi had been able to muster and were preparing to use in their assault on Dejan, before they had ended up the ones under attack themselves. From there, the lase had begun, and one of the three Vor-211 bombers that was on station after being sent from the Vojvodean airbase in Taskov soared over the battlefield at a height that was also impervious to the AAA guns below, dropping a couple heavy laser guided bombs towards the building which quickly picked up the mark and began to fall on target, the strategic bomber gone before the enemy side knew that it had even been there in the first place.

The Voronov UV-13 Chariot drone.

It was bombs away…

Soon enough, the attack became visible to both sides on the ground, bringing elation to one and panic and fear to the other as both of the bombs hit and the facility went up in a blast of smoke and fire, the former being spread across the field of the fight for a moment before it faded out, only fire and broken concrete left afterwards. There was some cheering, of course, from the contractors that were awaiting the destruction of the barricades.

“Fucking hell, that was an explosion for sure…” said one of the soldiers next to Nevena, but she kept a calm about herself and didn’t allow herself more than a smile. Not the kind of cheering that was coming from some of the others.

“Just wait. Next ones are going to be closer.”

They did still have to wait for the next strikes after all, like Nevena had directed when she ordered the air support in… She’d pointed out that there were a number of barricades, but taking those out wouldn’t be much harder than taking out the building. “Sure taking a long time…”

However, despite the comments about the time it was taking, it didn’t take all that long for the next attack to come - there was another flash of fire before a plume of smoke rose meters into the sky, after another laser guided bomb obliterated the fortifications directly in front of the formation of contractors. “Hell yeah…” muttered Nevena, raising a pair of binoculars and taking a closer look at the site of the blast, while the smoke began to blow away in the wind and the damages could be seen accurately. As another bomber passed overhead, the sound of it only being able to be heard despite no sight of it being visible from the height it was at, the next laser guided bomb took out another fortification…

That was all it took for the Shafadi at the third fortification to begin bailing, fleeing back in the direction of the oil field despite orders from their superiors to stay and fight.

“Let’s move…” Nevena said, quickly waving towards the ATV that they’d shown up here in. She took her radio out before she jumped up onto the back, holding onto the railing once again. “All squad leaders, let’s put in one more push… They’re on the back foot from the air support, let’s step on their throat.”

She said it as another bomb hit and destroyed a couple of the armored vehicles that were currently parked back at the base around the oil fields rather than participating in the battle actively - and keeping them back seemed to have been a mistake as two of them had been reduced into flaming wrecks rather than having a chance of changing the outcome of the battle. In taking a conservative approach here, the Shafadi had ironically sealed themselves to losing more.

The car sped up, and Nevena held on as she moved one hand to her rival, unstrapping it from her vest and holding it in one hand instead while she used the other hand to hold on, ignoring the danger of going one handed like this as they went head first into the enemy. She found it kind of funny, that this was the thing that some would consider dangerous rather than the fact that they were charging right into the enemy after weakening them from the air first.

“You know what we could use? A couple of Crows, too,” Nevena said, referring to the ground attack aircraft and naval fighter that was often seen performing multiple roles for Vojvodea and the Voronov Group too at times.

“I’m sure we’d have it if it wasn’t made by Zhernov,” pointed out one of the others. “Guess the Vor-205 isn’t enough?”

“Thinking more of a ground and pounder than an interdictor,” said Nevena, watching the scenery fly by while they accelerated and headed directly towards the opponent. The gunshots were getting closer and they would be vulnerable to just an RPG based on what they were riding in, but hopefully, the RPG rounds would go towards trying to take out the more sporadic heavy mechanized forces that were mixed in with their regular force… APCs with ATGMs mounted were closing in along with them, though they were moving slower, but they were continually firing their autocannons and suppressing the militia fighters.

The ATV stopped once they were close enough, where they could use the wreckage of the fortifications as cover. The soldiers in the back quickly unloaded, and Nevena was one of the first ones to jump out and fire off a burst of shots with her Vor-17 battle rifle once she had sighted the enemy - in a panic down the range, many of the militia soldiers simply having thrown down their weapons in favor of going on the run at this point… It was only a matter of time before they wiped out the ones that were still participating in the fight.

She might have felt bad for them if it wasn’t for knowing what they had done earlier and how they were the same group that was responsible for a number of Vojvodean deaths here because of that event. “Forward! One last push and this place will be ours once again…” Nevena ordered, giving an emphatic gesture, and to make the point, she was the first one to start moving behind the ATV as it started forward, the machine gun barking and suppressing the enemy as the other armored and mechanized vehicles continued sending their own streams of fire.

At this rate, things would be done by sunset around here.

Press conferences were not Nevena Voronova’s thing. With what she looked like, people were never exactly rushing to put her in them. And because of that, it was always awkward when she did manage doing them, and she didn’t train for them because unlike some of the other members of her family, dealing with the press just wasn’t something that she ended up doing all that much. Still, it was apparently her that was the one who had to give the press conference this time, or at least, she had to address the media a bit before some other people took questions. She was glad for that last part. She didn’t want to take questions if she didn’t have to, really… She’d rather be celebrating the victory with her men than answering questions that could border on the inane.

Standing in front of a large Vojvodean flag which had been draped over a wall to make a makeshift background, she was wearing her formal uniform at this point, black with a white undershirt and a black beret which matched the uniform and had golden highlights… Her arm patch, however, had the red and white and blue of the Voronov Group, and their parent company, Voronov Royal Manufacturing. Otherwise known as the corporate arm of House Voronov, and one of the major sources of their power. It was also the company that Nevena had possibly been set for, before her battle with the Blood Flu ensured that she wouldn’t end up too public of a face.

“The Voronov Group, House Voronov of Lyachevo, the Vojvodean Imperial Oil Company, the Imperial Crown of Vojvodea, and the Bahrizadi Popular Action movement under Commander Minu Shazan would like to announce that we have come to an agreement to manage the northern section of Amiriyya, after the fall of organized government and the rise of the Shafadi warlords in the rest of the country… While the situation in Amiriyya was once stable, the chaotic force of Rahim and Parisa Sorouri and their SPF militia has thrown the country into… An unacceptable state, where it’s unsafe to do business and more unsafe to live permanently,” Nevena said, as cameras clicked in the background, a limited amount of journalists from the BPA and from Vojvodea being allowed into the conference room while a number of other soldiers stood nearby, the situation on the ground somewhat tense still - that could be seen easily by the fact that they were still toting body armor and battle rifles.

The site of the press conference.

“Thus, the Voronov Group and the BPA have agreed to jointly manage the Confederation of Amiriyya together, with Commander Minu Shazan acting as the interim leader until the country is in a calm enough state to proceed with a more… Official process. The Vojvodean 15th Airborne Brigade and Second Eagles Brigade have been stationed in Dejan, for the purposes of military policing and security, and as you already know, the Voronov Group has been deployed to the oil fields for security around this area,” Nevena continued, somewhat awkward as she rattled off details that she had memorized earlier.

“I also believe some of the officers from within the BPA have been promoted to positions within the newly formed Amiriyyan Confederated Army, which Commander Shazan will also serve as the first commander-in-chief of. I know that Minu is busy at the moment with running things behind the scenes for this new country, but in the coming week or so, I’ve also been told that she’ll have a state visit in Magnitograd to discuss the matter of the conflict and restoring the security of the region… Thank you,” Nevena concluded, stepping off the podium after finishing reading off her speech.

“Congratulations,” she heard one of the Eagles Brigade soldiers standing off from the podium tell her - Nina Chernova, she believed it was. One of the other nobles who had ended up commanding a unit down here… Though unlike Nevena, Nina just looked like the type of person that had politics in her future once she was out of the military. Assuming she didn’t decide to make a career out of it. She handed her Voronov counterpart a bottle of champagne - a little surprising, at least to Nevena.

“Champagne?” Nevena asked, raising an eyebrow and looking down at it with slight confusion as she took it, stopping in her tracks as her eyes shifted downwards to meet those of the shorter girl.

“Should let loose and celebrate a little. Not that many people can say that they’ve just founded a country,” Nina said, as someone else walked up and handed something to Nevena - a flag, apparently the one that the Confederation of Amiriyya was using. Turned out it was the militia leader she had spoken of, Minu Shazan… She held up one end of the flag, Nevena held up the other one, and soon enough there was a camera pointed at their faces… SNAP! A picture had been taken, though Nevena almost looked like a deer in the headlights in it.

Fact of the matter was, even with people around her celebrating and telling her that she should be happy for her role, and even knowing that they were right and that she had done something significant… Nevena still found it hard to allow herself to do that. They still had a war to fight, after all, and she was a soldier before she was a politician - standing around and snapping pictures when there was still work to be done just wasn’t her niche. She knew, however, that her kind of thinking would wear down on her eventually…

So she forced herself to smile. Shortly before she looked up again to see herself approached by someone that was wearing a corporate uniform for her family’s company.

“Nevena! Congratulations on the success in the field, your father told me to tell you that you’ve done a great job as the leader of Devils Company… And because of that, I have some great news to pass on…”

by **Tangaliro** » Sun Mar 08, 2020 4:29 am

S1E3
_{ALL UNDER HEAVEN A.E. 251}

With the help of a woman in a red jacket and the valiant sacrifice of four, Yan Liang and Zhang Zhongcheng successfully escorted their VIP, Valora Cortez, out of Maturoch. Four hand-picked Black Uniform Guards Dare-to-Die Corp elite soldiers for one girl. The price was dear, but the righteousness and impact on history in the action was immeasurable. Now the duo and the girl enjoy a moment of peace on the flight away from the hustle and bustle of Maturoch. For two of them, it was a flight home, for the other, a flight to a brave new world.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

All Under Heaven A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter 3
"Climb High and See Afar"

Great Zhu Empire
Murmere 9, 251 AE
12:50 AM Maturoch Standard Time

__________________________________

It has been around three hours since they departed from Armannu. The Ning-182-III, now dubbed as the Vermillion Bird for its current “cargo”, steadily flew through the Gamesu Sea, maintaining the shortest path they could as far away from Eridania and Vesperanza as possible. Soon, they would be flying out of the Gamesu Sea through the Ivory Strait, where they would be greeted by their escort. The flight path was long, but thanks to the minimal load on the aircraft and mid-air refuels from friendly tanker aircrafts, it would be no issue.

The Zhuese Imperial Court had negotiated with the Hautport authority prior ensuring safe passage through the strait. There may be questions between the Chastenais and the Sinicans, but business connections were business connections. The economic ties between the Chastenai colonies and the Sinican Empire ensured that the authorities of Hautport and Rocheport were happy with the Vermillion Bird and the Western Sea Fleet passing by.

Inside the passenger compartment of the aircraft, Valora was fast asleep, worn out from the run for her life just yesternight. Zhang Zhongcheng silently covered his coat over her, careful not to wake up the unlucky girl who had just survived a chain of assassination attempts hours ago.

“Is she asleep?” Yan Liang asked, in a whispering tone.

Zhang Zhongcheng nodded.

Sitting farther away from the girl, the two began their conversation.

“So, tell me your story.” Yan Liang said. “You were on some pretty big guts to sign up for this. I would like to know more about you.”

“As you already know, I am Senior Sergeant Zhang Zhongcheng of the Lukou Governorate Division. I come from a Junhu^[1] family in Ningzhou. You?”

“I’m the eldest brother in a Junhu family from Dingbian. Guess that makes us the same kind of people.” Yan chuckled, looking out the window behind Zhang. It was pitch black in the darkness of night, a contrast to the dim red light inside the aircraft.

“You are a Junhu too!?”

“As real as it could be.”

“How did you end up here? Pretty sure Black Uniform Guards were not respected as much as a soldier in the Army among us Junhus.”

“There ought to be people who get their hands dirty so the rest stays clean. I went down this path knowing its consequences with pride. As a fellow Junhu it should be easy for you to tell, it was no easy choice, but it was a choice worth it.”

“I can only assume your family strongly opposed your choice.”

“Certainly. They learnt to live with it eventually. Our paths lie different, but the end goal was all the same.”

“To serve the country and people.”

“To serve the country and people.”

“Before our identity as a Black Uniform Guard, we are first humans.” Yan continued. “No one wants their children to be the one doing the dirty cheap deeds. I am merely taking the place myself so other people don't have to.”

“I joined the Black Uniform Guard as a rebellion to my family. That way, I get to serve the country while letting them down. They wanted me in the navy.” Zhang said. “We have reconciled since then, but I hold no regrets about taking up this post.”

Zhang glanced at Valora, who was still asleep a few seats away. Yan immediately caught on to the message.

“Indeed.” Yan nodded. “High places tend to be intolerably cold, but sometimes, you have to climb up top to see farther. We just did something many others could never do in their lifetime.”

As they talked, dim, distant lights of civilization had entered the vision of Yan, likely that of Hautport. They were close to their destination.

FROM: SENIOR ADMIRAL Chen Youpeng(♂) - [SIN Weiyuan (CV-2)] - [Western Sea Fleet]
TO: JM. Xu Tianxiang(♂) - [Ning-182-III (Y18920 - “Vermillion Bird”)] - [Western Sea Fleet]

"Vermillion Bird, this is the Birdnest. We have you in visual, sending our escort your way."

Before long, the sound of aircrafts soaring past were heard by all on board the aircraft. These were the sounds made by the Sinican Fei-6 “Fei-Dao” multirole fighters.

---==============---

Fei-6 “Flying Dagger” multirole fighters.

The noise had certainly awakened Valora. She rose up from sleep, rubbing her eyes.

“We are almost there.” Yan said, turning to the girl. “We will be safe once we land.”

“Where are we heading?”

Yan thought for a second, thinking up the best answer he could for the kid.

“Home.” Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the answer for Valora. Yet, could there be a better word than the word “home” to soothe the weary heart of a startled child? Valora Cortez was born high up, and she had to endure the freezing coldness of a high place. Yet, if she prevailed against the cold, she would be able to see much farther than a mere spook like him could ever manage. Four of his comrades-in-arm died so she could live, it is now his obligation to make sure their sacrifice would not go down in vain.

The sun slowly rose from the horizon, granting this dim world a slight touch of light. The rain stopped and the clouds dissipated, then the distant yet massive profile of the Sinican Western Fleet emerged from the east.

Far away in Kaitian, in front of the Xinqing Palace, Xia Chengding stood looking in the distance, within his vision was the sun.

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - Junhu - While the Sinican society does not emphasize birth and background, there were always people who chose to inherit the will and craft of their ancestors. Junhus were a distinguished example. They were families with a military background, born soldiers and warriors for the Dynasty. Since childhood, they were subject to strict discipline and military training by their family. Junhus could originate from any cultural groups. If one fails to become a soldier, they would frequently be shunned by their family, even expelled in some extreme cases. Much like Kaitian Min, their culture values competence and frugality, leading a spartanic lifestyle. Well-respected members of society.

by **Valefontaine** » Mon Mar 09, 2020 5:44 pm

S1E2
_{NEW BROADCAST}

The Zhu Dynasty has a series of satellites aimed at controlling what messages from Tsion reach Vesta. SIGINT suggests a new broadcast has come from Tsion... and whatever data exists is locked inside a Sinican satellite. We're going to have to run a bit of a break-in.

FSS Admiral Halloran (SDDGN-17)
Admiral Morton-class Space Destroyer (Nuclear Powered)
Outer Space
Murmere 11, 251 AE
9:30 PM Universal Surface Time

__________________________________

The 'barracks' aboard the Halloran had apt amenities, one could suppose. It felt funny at first, to sleep in zero-g... but Kairi had grown accustomed to the feeling. In their lunar approach, the Admiral Halloran had faced a delay — more specifically, a mission from headquarters. Intel hinted towards the existence of a Sinican intelligence satellite, filtering communications from Tsion. With evidence of another broadcast from the homeworld, it was clear the satellite held the key to whatever secrets lay to the fate of humanity's home.

What had come from home? Orders? A message? The mere thought of it left Kairi's mind restless.

The bow of the Halloran contained what could only be described as the “bridge” of the ship, though it was more akin to a concealed, protected CIC. Unlike a spaceplane or even a space capsule, there were no windows on this segment—only a complex array of cameras and sensors that gave those inside a near-360° view of the outside world. It was more like the cockpit to a massive cargo plane than a proper bridge, anyways, given that most of the crew were seated and manning some sort of computer console, save for Lieutenant Colonel Lamar, of course.

It perhaps just now occurred to Kairi — and Nicole, who also happened to be in this “bridge” — that Lamar had a badge on his olive drab uniform — a black eye with wings pinned to the the uniform — the giveaway of the Military Intelligence Corps, and Lieutenant Colonel Lamar’s other speciality outside of the Interstellar Marines.

“Lieutenant, glad you showed up in time, I was just about to show you—” he paused, pointing to the largest display towards the front of the spacecraft—a black gridded map indicating their position in space relative to Vesta and its sole moon, Timorus. “About our little rest stop in between.”

“The satellite, sir?” Nicole began.

“...More of a station, in hindsight. Station three, bring up the pictures from yesterday.” Upon the Colonel’s request, an image began loading over the gridded map, eventually increasing in quality to show the grainy profile of a satellite, Sinican in origin. Though, upon first glance, its size and shape indicated that it was more of a station or orbital communications post than just a small, unmanned satellite.

“The Halloran’s own camera suite captured these images during our initial approach burn to the satellite. We’re set to make an encounter within the hour, which will get us close enough to jam their signals and keep our guns on them if they try anything silly.” Lamar folded his arms. “I suppose you know what comes next.”

Kairi seemed apprehensive at the realization. Sure, they were at war with the terrorists, intervening in Vesperanze... but the Zhu Dynasty had done little to incur such a bold act, as far as Kairi knew. Orders were orders, however, and she understood that quite well. "We're attacking the Sinicans, sir?"

“Command has defined it simply: You see, we aren’t going to be attacking the Sinicans, but that’s not to say the Zhu Dynasty folks aren’t aware of the situation at hand on Timorius. With how sparse communications are between Timorius and Vesta, this satellite very well could’ve fallen prey to the terrorists.” Lamar paused for a moment. “They know this, so do we.”

“So we’re playing rebel, sir?” Nicole asked, hesitant as well.

Lamar shook his head. “No, Captain. You know the old saying: ‘In space, no one can hear you scream.’ That’s what’s happening today.”

Kairi looked Nicole's way before nodding at Lamar's affirmation. "This a, uh... two-person mission, sir?"

The Lieutenant Colonel nodded. “Command believes it necessary and appropriate to deploy only two members of Orpheus Detachment for this mission, as deploying the entire detachment would be a “gross misallocation of valuable resources”...as they say.” He sighed. “This will do, though I’ll have the others on standby as support. Once we’re within range, we’ll commence the jamming and deploy a tether to keep us close—an anchor, if you will.

To this, Kairi simply nodded. "Understood, sir."

Lamar turned back to preside over the situation in the CIC. “That’s your cue to go get suited up. We’ll keep comms open at all times, for now, stay on standby in the airlock until we make contact with the satellite and commence jamming..which should be sooner than later. Get a move on.”

Suiting up didn’t yield the usual side chatter and small talk given the sense of urgency — and the fact that only two marines were going out for a mission today — but that didn’t change Nicole from being a little.. Curious .. For one, the Colonel was acting a little strange and enigmatic with his euphemisms and sayings, perhaps a bit more strange and enigmatic than before. She understood the whole phrase he had said earlier, “In space, no one can hear you scream…” but what did this mean for attacking the Sinicans?

“...I can’t be the only person who’s reluctant on fighting actual Sinicans.” She commented. “Even if they may be commies, there’s something...off-putting, about it.” Nicole paused. “Oh, eh..uh… Lieutenant, let me help you with that.”

With a bit of a nudge, Kairi slipped into hear own suit — with some help. What followed was the usual process of grabbing her weapons, helmet and harness. "I just hope this doesn't cause any trouble back on Vesta," Kairi thought aloud, staring her own helmet face-to-face before slipping it on. "I think the boys on the surface got enough on their plate as-is."

“If it even reaches the surface, that is…” Nicole reminded her colleague. If communication between Cantenia and Terminus was as slow and infrequent as it was now, then communications between Zhu and its orbital and Timorius possessions was just as bad. For all they cared, it was just business as usual up in the stars.

"..I hope." Kairi murmured. The helmet's helmet-mounted display came to life, systems booting up before Kairi as she checked her own weapons — particularly, her ER-M53 Vindicator. Nicole gave her own Vindicator a few checks, ensuring that everything was in order with her weapons before stowing the gun on the magnetic lock on her back. “All systems look norm-”

FTHOONKN

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "Marines, this is Lamar. We are entering jamming range of the Sinican satellite now. Comms will remain open for the duration of this op. Stand by…”

--------

[FSS ADMIRAL HALLORAN (SDDGN-17)] [EW SUITE] ”Sinicans ignored our presence — their fault. Commencing jamming!”

Static briefly took up the commms as the ship shook, presumably executing a few incremental maneuvers with its boosters or RCS thrusters. To their side was a small control panel that Nicole accessed, switching to a grainy camera view of the bow of the Halloran. Small sparks appeared atop the satellite, presumably around radio antenna and other sophisticated sensor equipment, but no action came from the spacecraft or the satellite’s weapons.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[FSS ADMIRAL HALLORAN (SDDGN-17)] [EW SUITE] ”Sinican comms have been fried.”

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "Keep it that way. Weapons, ready a tether, bearing one-eight-seven, grid reference alpha-zero-seven. I know those satellites can move—make sure it doesn’t.”

Something shot out from the front of the ship, a sort of cable that clamped onto the satellite with a hollow clunk upon contact. If Nicole was to guess, it was likely a magnet of sorts, to keep both spacecraft stable in orbit.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[FSS ADMIRAL HALLORAN (SDDGN-17)] [WEAPONS SUITE] ”Skyhook deployed...lock!”

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "Commence the operation.”

“That’s our signal.” Nicole flipped a switch on the console adjacent to her as the airlock depressurized. An intense minute passed before the airlock doors opened, allowing the duo to float out into space. Vesta was still as large as ever from High Vestan Orbit, giving them the impression that they were still flying across the planet’s surface as they made their way off the ship and began towards the Sinican satellite. “Diting-6 in sight..” Nicole said, her voice more a whisper than a regular mutter.

The silence of the vacuum was, in a way, deafening. Kairi could only hear her own steady breathing and the voice of her superior as she drifted towards the apparent station, Vindicator laser rifle in hand. Nearing the station's airlock, she slowed her approach, studying the airlock of the Sinican space station.

“Can’t read this for shit..” Nicole commented on the strange Sinican characters on the exterior. The Sinicans in general followed a design principle that was more akin to a Euphemian spacecraft or station than a UMS one, which was a common theme among Sinican spacecraft in general. Some even went so far as to argue that the Sinicans copied a thing or two from Euphemian spaceship design.

Nicole stabilized herself on one of the handles by the airlock. “Ready, Lieutenant?”

"Ready when you are, cap." replied Kairi, Vindicator at the ready. Opening the hatch presumably meant the commencement of the depressurization process — they'd have a limited time before their hosts, if the station was truly manned, to catch on. "..y'know, I always thought the Sinicans just had one space station, research purposes... wonder how these managed to stay off-record for so long."

“Maybe branding them as ‘satellites’ — who am I kidding, though? This isn’t a satellite, it’s a goddamn space station.” Nicole replied. “A whole gotdamn COMINT station up in orbit...no wonder they were able to intercept that message from home so easily.”

"If they're hiding it from us, it ought to be important.." Kairi thought aloud, approaching the hatch. Turning a valve-like mechanism upon the hatch warranted depressurization from the airlock within, the hatch unlocking soon thereafter. The two astronauts slipped into the airlock, hatch closing behind as they both took point within. "We could just force our way in, but we'd prolly risk damaging what we're after. Or we could wait... I dunno. If anyone's home, they probably know we're coming."

Nicole reached behind her back for her weapon, the magnetic holster disengaging with a click as she pulled her laser rifle over her shoulder. “I think they already know what’s up...and, given the lights were on, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are folks in here. Something of this size? I’d say...four, for good measure, more or less.”

"Where I grew up, they taught us to prepare for the worst... I'd say five." Kairi chuckled. "Cover me while I get this open."

With plasma cutter in hand, Kairi got to work immediately on undoing the airtight doors leading into the station proper. The reaction was as immediate as it was violent: a jolt of air erupted through the breach almost immediately. As both astronauts forced their way in, it became apparent from the sounds within the station — even as it was rapidly depleting of air — was that of alarms blaring.

The sound of shouting Sinican was heard as Nicole raised her weapon at a glint of light seen downrange. Without questioning it, she fired, the hallway briefly filling with a red light as the Sinican at the other end of the laser shrieked, their voice cut off by a gurgling sound as a softball-sized hole was punched through their jumpsuit.

"Firing!" Kairi's announcement proceeded her own actions by a mere half-second as she opened fire with her own Vindicator, laser burning through one of the Sinican cosmonauts' skulls, their form falling limp as they drifted in the zero-g environment. Hurriedly she floated towards cover behind a grouping of crates in the cramped space, evading the enemy's return fire.

“Keep up the tempo, L-T!” Nicole shouted, moving for cover herself. Red lights blinked beside her helmet as two lasers flashed past, narrowly missing her by only a few inches. Perhaps her eyes were more injured than her body—mainly from the bright light, so she took a moment to pause behind cover, slowly regaining her vision.

"Suck on this!" Peeking from cover, Kairi fired thrice in quick succession — leaving the remaining crewmen of the Diting-6 floating lifelessly, slowly being pulled towards the breach in the airlock as air continued to escape the station. "Clear!" She announced, after taking a moment to confirm the fact.

“Boots!” Nicole holstered her weapon and grabbed onto one of the crates with her free hand, bringing her feet down onto the ground with her momentum. She stuck to the floor like glue thanks to the magnetic boots she wore. “...Guess that takes care of it.. Good work, Lieutenant.”

"Just doin' my job, ma'am!" As the station was drained of its atmosphere, Kairi continued onward — specifically, to the suite of COMINT computers that was organized within the now-empty crew space. The station itself seemed a simple enough arrangement — a merger between two crew capsules, arrays of solar panels to power the station. The 'upper' station, relative to Vesta's poles, that was, seemed to host most of the equipment from which the computers derived their data.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[1LT. Kairi Armstrong] "I dunno what all this says... I 'ssume you're handling the data once we fetch it, sir?"

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "That would be the job of Military Intelligence, Lieutenant — grab the data and return it to the Halloran.”

"..I guess we just take what hard drives we can," Kairi supposed. The task wasn't immensely difficult, the Lieutenant opening a few panels and detaching a few dozen hard drives from the computers, handing them to Nicole herself. The Captain inspected the handful of hard drives herself, letting out a “hmm” as she stowed them in some of her tactical pouches. “Curious.. I wonder what other data they’ve been collecting up here. You think other signals from Tsion were beamed over, but we never heard ‘em cause of this station?”

"..hell if I know," Kairi shrugged. "Everything we needa know's probably in there. Let's just hope all of this doesn't cause too much trouble..."

“I’d say they wouldn’t even notice with how slow information travels.” Nicole reassured her, starting for the exit they had made for themselves. She disengaged her magnetic boots and began to float away from the station, her partner in tow as they made their way back towards the ship. There was some sense of uncertainty, though, as they floated through space — would something like this spell war or just another international incident, or would it truly be lost to space?

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[FSS ADMIRAL HALLORAN (SDDGN-17)] [WEAPONS SUITE] ”Disengaging Skyhook.”

[LTCOL B. LAMAR] "We’re depressurizing airlock three for you already to expedite the process, marines. Get that data to the situation room, and we’ll review its contents.”

The airlock door opened before the duo, as if to welcome their arrival. Slowing her approach, Kairi managed a relatively soft landing, before detaching her tether. "So I 'ssume it's smooth sailin' to Timorius from here, Cap?"

“I suppose so,” Nicole added, detaching her own tether and closing the airlock door. The room began to repressurize as Nicole drew the hard drives from her chest webbing, inspecting them once again for damage. “Guess they had bilingualism in mind when naming these.”

With door to the 'locker room' of sorts opening, Kairi would be first to get to desuiting. "Any word on what our first moon op'll be?" She inquired, mildly curious as she slipped out of her EVA suit.

“Honestly? Not sure, L-T. I will say these Terrorists are far from the average combat drone or general space ruffian.” She pulled herself out of the bulky EVA suit, catching the floating hard drives with her free hand. “They’re trained to the low-grav environment and the hardy environment over all. It’s a miracle we even managed to survive there in the first place.”

"I'm sure we can hold our own out there, ma'am.." Kairi quietly agreed, beginning for the door to the debriefing room. Floating down the usual corridor, the Lieutenant hummed to herself as she stopped at the next set of doors, which promptly opened after a biometric scan.

They reached the situation room soon enough, finding that the rest of the team had already gathered by the data tank, awaiting the news and the evaluation of the data. “How’s that for a quickie, sir?” Nicole snarkily commented, suddenly realizing her joke as the Colonel snatched the cluster of floating hard drives out of the air.

“We’ll go through these one by one.” Lamar said, taking each drive and placing it into a similarly-sized slot beneath the data tank. The large screen, previously showing the Federal Atomics boot-up logo, switched to that of a “newer” audio visualizer, identifying the files as “HUAJI_01”, “HUAJI_02”, and “HUAJI_03”, respectively. A ring appeared in the center of the screen, presumably where the audio waveform visualization would emanate from.

“<BOOT COMPLETE. TRANSLATING AUDIO.>” A robotic, monotonous voice spoke from speakers beneath the table. “<TRANSLATION COMPLETE.>”

click-clack.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] [TRANSLATED - SINICAN] "...nnn-ther whisper, near Timorius again. No contact from International Moon Base. Too garbled to decipher. Will continue monitor.”

After about a minute of listening to the translated report in a distinct Sinican accent, Lieutenant Colonel Lamar scoffed. “Damn. That’s not it. Next.” Lieutenant Colonel Lamar switched to the next audio.

click-clack.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] "...你们都是泥土!！在内脏里转悠!!”

“Must be the last one, then, sir.” Nicole said, pointing out it’s size. “It’s almost fifty megabytes in size.”

Lamar reached under the table to the control panel and began the recording.

click-clack.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] [TRANSLATED - OLD EUPHEMIAN] "..From the hills of White Peaks to the jungles of Arcadia..."

“Huh? That phrase..” Lamar tilted his head like a bird intrigued at something. “That’s...is that a Presidential Approval code?”

“A wh-” Before Sergeant McBride could finish, the voice on the other end continued...

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] [TRANSLATED - OLD EUPHEMIAN] "This message has been forwarded by the Presidency of the Federal States of Euphemie. To... the Territory of Terminus. Playback commencing now."

"It's..." Kairi trailed off as the message commenced.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] [TRANSLATED - OLD EUPHEMIAN] "If you are hearing this message, it pains me to declare the worst has come to pass.

The irradiated afterglow still burns through the ruins of Hyperion. A coalition of Sinican, Alvimian and Angecalian troops prowl the carcass of this once-great nation, stifling what resistance remains with violent force. The foreign hordes, for the time being, have won. Euphemie as it could've been is no more. The aggressors who would wish us forever torn apart, never to reunite, have driven our civilization to its end. Still there are loyal patriots who will lay their lives down for the cause, but I know the time for me to send this final plea is limited. All hope for a free, united Euphemie now rests in the stars. You... are our only hope."

“...Alvimian and...Angecalian? What?” Nicole narrowed her eyes. This broadcast made no sense — why would these otherwise neutral nations be involved in an invasion, alongside Sinica?!

"I thought the Alvimians were against the Sinicans?" Kairi murmured, confused.

FEDATOM COMMUNICATOR

[TRANSCRIPT-O-TRON V.1.1a] [TRANSLATED - OLD EUPHEMIAN] "Centuries may have separated us, but Vesta's lights still yet glimmer upon our telescopes. We have not forgotten you; O Vestan brethren, Timorian brethren! I have remained watchful, just as God has, over the progress of your civilization. The fear of the Timorius Warheads has consistently discouraged recontact. But desperate times often call for desperate measures. As our peoples, our sacred Euphemian race are picked apart, squandered, degraded by the foreign corporations, I find the necessity of recontact to outweigh the consequences.

My name is Laila All-Praised I. Neworder. Though the sanctity of my title does not dawn upon you, know the great task that weighs upon you. I am the progeny of the great unifier, the President who brought Oesterran and Euphemian alike to cast aside their differences, who skewered the Mederune beast, who liberated the world and defined history! His vision rests with me, Living Saint of all Euphemia. This is to be regarded as an executive order. We cannot bear to stand divided so long as the destruction of our home persists— a home we both regard as sacred.

Though space and time divide us, but the weight of this mission is one that cannot be understated. I do not strive to force war upon those who hold on to our holy legacy in the cosmos; nay, I summon those remaining loyal, who look upon Tsion not as a distant light, but as your true home... to prepare! Euphemia calls, friends. For the so-called victors of this struggle, those hellbent on the dessecration of our people, will surely come for you once they reclaim their mantle in the stars. The clock ticks — and you must prepare. Find it within your Euphemian hearts to know this threat to be true, that a threat grander and greater than ever imagined possible prepares for the annihilation of all semblances of what once was our nation.

I compel you with the divine authority of my grandfather, as one Euphemian to another, to redeem yourselves in His light by taking up arms and preparing for the war to come. It will come regardless of whether you prepare... and thus I ask you with all my heart to know your enemy. It will be a war unparalleled by past conflicts— equalled only, perhaps, by the Calamity itself. It will be a war... spanning the stars. You must acquire the Timorius Warheads once more, if they still remain. Rebuild the space fleet... prepare for the tribulations to come.

Perhaps none will receive my message... but I send this with the last sliver of hope that there are loyal, faithful remaining. What will you tell your mothers, your fathers—... children, grandchildren? That you stood idle in Euphemie's greatest time of need? I send this order with the hopes that it will be received and heeded by the men and women of noble spirit and character we sent to the stars five centuries before. As brethren, as Euphemians, only time and space separate us. I beseech you, my comrades, to do what you must to go beyond the time and reclaim your birthright. May the Lord strike me down for invoking his name if I was not worthy; Hail Fern, and Hail to Neworder, the greatest icons of the name Euphemia to ever live. Euphemie awaits, stellar brethren!"

“Hail.. George Fern? Neworder?” Lieutenant Colonel Lamar narrowed his eyes. “What the hell over there happened for the last century? Sinicans at the gate?”

"Hail Fern... what a strange way to regard our first President. But who's this 'New Order' they speak of?" Kairi tilted her head.

Lamar placed a hand on his chin and thought for a moment. “Whatever it is, this means that there’s been contact with Euphemie back home, but the worst has come to pass. The implications of this will be...interesting, catastrophic, maybe? But we’ll have to get this back to Military Intelligence for assessment.”

"If it's truly an order from the government back home..." Kairi trailed off, worried. "..they mentioned the Timorius warheads, too. That.. changes the perspective on our lunar missions, doesn't it? Was that lady the President? She called herself a 'saint'... this is all too confusing."

“A lot could’ve changed in a couple hundred years, including the fact that Sinicans, Alvimians, and Angecalians just invaded our shores.” Lamar reminded her. “But.. this just seems…empty. There isn’t anything else, no other code, no—”

“<BEGINNING FILE UPLOAD - TIMELINE.ZIP.>” The voice came back again...the display changing to that of a loading bar for a file nearly fifty gigabytes in size.

“Sir, d-did they just upload a ZIP bomb?!” Nicole’s gaze widened as she took on a panicked expression. Upon further analysis of the hundreds of files that were appearing, filling the screen like lines of code, it became evident that they were years…

“Intl_events_240.txt, intl_events_393.txt, intl_events_420.txt..” Lamar read the names of files he could catch by the eye as best as he could. “This is no ZIP bomb, captain, these are years, timelines... this is an entire archive of post-Eschaton history.”

He turned to the others, stoic and professional as ever, but Nicole could see something else in the Lieutenant Colonel’s eyes: curiosity, confusion, and a hint of fear. He was just as confused as them, just as unsure on how to proceed with the recent events at hand, but just as ready to make some sense of it and push on.

"Well, it's MILINT's problem, not ours... right?" Kairi questioned, nervously fidgeting about as she floated in zero-g.

“It’s everyone’s problem if it’s orders from the presidency, using the official codes…” McBride said. “We all know the 11 words, guys.”

Lamar switched the data tank off. “I’ll get these files shipped off to military intelligence as fast as I can. We have a whole moon ahead of us, quite literally, that we have to deal with first.”

"Understood, sir!" Kairi saluted. Whatever was ahead of them... the broadcast had cast doubt and trouble alike upon it all.

by **Tangaliro** » Thu Mar 12, 2020 6:01 am

S1E4
_{ALL UNDER HEAVEN A.E. 251}

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

All Under Heaven A.E. 251, Act 1 | Chapter Finale
"The Blazing Sun Shines High"

Great Zhu Empire
Murmere 12, 251 AE
6:50 AM Imperial Standard Time

__________________________________

Dawn was yet to rise over the hallowed halls of Juxian Palace, from which Gongsun Sheng's own office was located. Walking the corridors of the venerable palace, Gongsun was confident of the day ahead. The operation in Armannu had succeeded, the Celestial Empire possessing a strategic and humanitarian trump card in the Vesperanzan crisis. The Imperial Registry of Historical Locations had come into being, allowing the culturally and historically significant landmarks of the Empire to be safeguarded, maintained by public funding and preserved — that the generations to come would remember the legacy of their predecessors.

We are the masters of the world we entrust our children with, after all. Gongsun thought to himself, smiling. Naturally, his wife and children lingered upon his thoughts, weighing on his conscience as he made decisions in office.

---==============---

Juxian Gong (The Palace Where the Sages Gathers)

Efforts to mobilize the peasantry towards the implementation of the Five-Year Strategic Reserve plan were already in the works, which would allow the Zhu Dynasty to have a bountiful strategic resource reserve, were the winds of fate to disrupt the prosperous global economy of Vesta. Gongsun knew well that unforeseen threats could endanger the fragility of the world they took for granted at this very moment, and he knew the collective peoples of the Celestial Empire needed to remain vigilant and ready.

To be willingly unprepared was to be foolish, nihilistic prey. Mobilizing the people against any danger that faced the nation was far greater a priority than forcing them to not panic, to continue their daily lives... he knew well of the Euphemians' folly, arrogance that had cost them their uncontested power over Veris, their stranglehold over Tiamat reduced to a phantom grip...

The calamities that had brought about the collapse of the Eunomian region and the secession of Eridania were failures brought about by arrogance and decadence, things Gongsun studied well and kept in mind. It was always beneficial to look outwards when pondering his strategies — to arrogantly ignore the outside world would only allow one to be caught off-guard.

His educational policies, particularly No Child Left Behind, were already being implemented nationwide, aiming at educating the Celestial Empire's youth, raising literacy and instilling fervent patriotism in the next generation. Gongsun knew well that the generation to come would need to be fostered well, as they would one day be entrusted with the state of the nation.

As he approached his own office, Gongsun momentarily thought of their success in Armannu once more. A public meeting with Valora would surely demonstrate to the public that the Celestial Empire stood with the people of San Eliseo, and would further express the boundless benevolence of the Zhu Dynasty.

Opening the door, Gongsun Sheng would be greeted by a surprise — Emperor Xia Chengding personally overseeing the installation of a portrait to compliment the Chancellor's office, two workers of the palace carefully raising the piece into place.

---==============---

尽忠职守, 仁道无疆

The piece depicted Gongsun Sheng flanked by students, a scene of a glistening river behind them. In the distance, a pagoda towered above the treeline, a splendid blue sky decorating the background. The wooden frame of the portrait was flanked by two plaques of calligraphy pieces emblazoned with the slogan, '(The Grand Chancellor) is loyal and devoted to his responsibilities.’ and ‘His benevolence is without bounds.' Judging by the detail of the piece, it had surely been commissioned by the Court's finest artisans, and had been completed with impressive speed in the aftermath of his ascension to the office of Grand Chancellor.

"Your Majesty, it is a pleasant surprise to see you here at this hour!" Gongsun exclaimed, approaching the Emperor. He slowed only to note the portrait once more, stroking his chin. "But... surely this is too much for my humble title?"

“I would say by your work so far, you are well deserving of this,” Xia Chengding turned away from the portrait, smiling at Gongsun. “Though, this was the work of the Directorate of Manner and Music, they called it part of a public relation campaign. I merely passed by in search of you earlier and saw the workers installing this portrait of yours. A nice portrait it was, as usual in the hands of our artisans. Ah, now we speak of it. Teng Wande asked me to find you, there are some very important, if not urgent, matters that we must discuss now.”

"Our duty to the Empire ends only in death," Gongsun conceded, smiling. "What might demand our attention?"

Xia Chengding looked at the workers busy installing the portrait. “Maybe this isn’t the place to talk right now. Follow me.”

With a nod, Gongsun followed the Emperor through the corridors of Juxian Palace, stopping before the doorstep of the palace's conference room, which was among the most secure sectors of the palace. Judging by the two guards that were presently on duty outside, it was surely something that merited some degree of secrecy and security.

Stepping within, Gongsun was faced with the nation's upper cadre of generals, pertaining to each of the branches. With them was the Director of the Tiangong Jian, the Directorate of Heaven's Work, Fu Xianliang. The Tiangong Jian was responsible for the nation's space program, and naturally was in close cooperation with the military regarding these affairs.

Most interesting of all was the presence of the Secretary of State, Cheng Xuechang, her presence flanked by Prime Minister Teng Wande himself. What matter concerned the military, the Department of State, the Tiangong Jian, and the nation's three most powerful men?

Central to this vast round table was the seal of the Empire itself, the celestial emblem of Vesta being the centerpiece of the nation's great seal.

---==============---

General Chong Zhiman.

"Surely there is a reason Your Majesty assembles us at this early hour," said Senior General Chong Zhiman, lit Maturochi cigar between his fingers. General Chong was responsible for the Longjing Military Governorate, which by extension made him responsible over the capital's defense.

"I notice the presence of His Excellency Cheng Xuechang," added Middle General Sima Cong, stroking his chin with curiosity. General Sima was responsible for the Wangzhou Military Governorate, which made his presence here along with the head of the Tiangong Jian's particularly curious — Wangzhou Spaceport was a shared jurisdiction between the two men. One defended it, the other operated it... Gongsun could already assume this affair had something to do with the final frontier: outer space.

But what, exactly?

Xia Chengding invited Gongsun Sheng to take his seat beside him, then took his own seat, gesturing Teng Wande to commence.

“As reported by our gentlemen from Tiangong Jian just yesternight, our communication with the Diting-6 has been lost. By the last received messages from the station shortly before the observation of abnormal activities at the station from the vision of other satellites, and the returned footage of these satellites confirming it, the Terminus FSS Admiral Halloran space combat vessel was spotted right next to our station shortly before its believed destruction. Is that right, Fu Xianliang?”

Fu Xianliang nodded, his face clearly indicating how serious he was.

Gongsun did not speak, instead observing the briefing as he pondered the truth. Surely it would be too rash to assume the Euphemians had done it? Or, perhaps, he had underestimated their rashness?

"Are you implying the Euphemians are responsible for this attack?" questioned General Chong, lowering his cigar — even the steely-eyed Senior General had been taken aback by Teng Wande's national security briefing.

“We hold no concrete evidence that they have conducted the attack,” Teng Wande answered. “Yet, from all the evidence we have gathered, and the last transmitted archive of the information on top of the station, we could only come to the conclusion that if it wasn’t the work of a supernatural force beyond our knowledge, then the only logical party that could have committed the attack would be the Terminus space force. However, compared to the attack itself, there is perhaps an impending threat much greater that warrants our concern. Something great enough that, perhaps, it is no longer something we can and should handle on our own.”

"Slowly, please." Gongsun spoke up, raising a hand. "If we are to believe that Terminus deliberately attacked our station, this implies to some capacity that they are aware of our military endeavors in space. Furthermore, if this is the case... I believe that the nature of our military space program is one we can no longer withhold from our own public. Do we have the names of the deceased astronauts? Have we informed the families?"

“Yes, we have the documents of the deceased astronaut here with us, and no, we have not informed the families yet. The news had merely reached us yesternight, such is why we’ve assembled everyone here this early.” Fu Xianliang said, raising his hand showcasing a folder filled with documents, apparently those of the deceased astronauts. He laid down the folder, allowing the rest in the room to examine its contents.

It took no time of the paper being passed around for it to reach Gongsun, the Grand Chancellor narrowing his eyes as he silently read out the names of the deceased.

JG. Jiang Shouguo ♂
SM. Deng Yong'An ♂
JM. Qu Simin ♀
JM. Lang Weiren ♂
JM. Luo Zhiling ♀

"Let's assume for a moment the Euphemians did this... attack," General Sima Cong said, eyes studying his peers as he continued. "What reason would merit such a hostile act? ...what were the duties of this station, Director Fu Xianliang? I believe everybody in this room has a right to know what you're doing with taxpayer money."

“This is why our Prime Minister said this is a matter that may not be ours alone to handle.” Fu Xianliang stood up, adjusting his glasses. “Before I begin, I would like to make sure we are all on the same page. How many years have passed since the Eschaton?”

It took no time for Gongsun to respond. "Two-hundred fifty-one Vestan years, four-hundred and eighty Tsionic years. What of it?"

“Have you ever wondered that, why, just why, had there been no messages from Tsion, the cradle of our civilization, since that fateful year, 0 AE? We all know that a war had occurred, and momentarily later, our communication with Tsion had been cut. Two-hundred and fifty-one years, gentlemen, two-hundred and fifty-one years! That equates two centuries and a half for us and nearly five centuries for them. I ask you, for a time this long, would it not have been enough for even the most backward of countries to restore civilization and send a signal into space?”

"Are we certain the lights we see on Tsion's surface are not the fires of barbarians fighting over scraps?" joked General Chong.

“Of course, for most of us here, it would be fair to assume such, be it a joke or not.” Fu cleared his throat, raising a bulky flash drive. “Yet, what if I tell you that, I could inform you of every historical moment on the surface of the planet during the past five Tsion centuries?”

"How?" questioned Gongsun. "Not even the Court's most powerful ESPers are capable of discerning the situation on the Old World."

"What, our stations are just... spying on Tsion?" General Chong asked, confusion visible across his aged features. "Or, perhaps—"

Gongsun's own experience in overseeing TianNet's establishment had proven true in that moment, as all came together in his mind. "Ah! You mean to say these stations are receiving data from Tsion, and preventing the other nations from acquiring this intelligence? How many of these stations do we presently have in operation?"

Fu turned to face Gongsun, satisfaction apparent on his face. “I am surprised Shen Xueqing did not choose you as her succession at first, Gongsun Sheng. You have just discovered the exact nature of our space program. We have a total number of six stations in this role, if not counting the one we just lost, then five.”

"This data... who sent it to us? Is it the Union, attempting to reestablish contact with us?" questioned Sima, raising an eyebrow. "Surely they still worry about us! Last we heard of them, they were winning the Medeuropan front on the eve of our Liberation War."

Fu Xianliang gently shook his head. “No, not the Union. Rather, there was another Union among those who sent a signal before, but it was not the same Union we know. The Union we are speaking of, however, is not our concern anymore as it has been confirmed to have ceased to exist last Tsionic century in a war with the Euphemians. In the past Tsionic century, we have received messages from various sources, be it this so-called Union State of Ti..tan..What kind of shitty name is this, it makes no sense at all...Tangaliro, the Federal States of Euphemie, and, surprisingly, our very origin, Sinica, or as they would call themselves, the People’s Republic of Sinica, one time alone, another time in a coalition with Alvimia and Angicalia.”

“I know all of these take time for you to digest, but as obvious as it seemed, a lot happened over the past five Tsionic centuries. The face of Tsion was no longer what we recognize anymore. Our motherland Sinica was independent from the Union, the neutral country Angicalia had risen to become a power on the global stage, and the Federal States, well, guess what, the Federal States were no more, as were the Union. The Federal States were dismantled at the hands of a coalition comprising Sinica, Alvimia, Angicalia and several other countries. It may not be our war anymore but gentlemen, it seems, IT SEEMS! That we have WON!”

Chuckling, Gongsun applauded — a chorus of similar applause ensuing across the conference room. As the applause died down, he composed himself, before inquiring what was to come. "...surely, however, we were not gathered here to celebrate, however. What of the impending threat you mentioned, Director? I can easily increase funding to our supergun program, if your primary concern is the Euphemian fleet above us. And something within me leads me to believe this threat is not that..."

“I wish it had been that simple.” Fu Xianliang slowly walked to the projector in the room, inserting the flash drive into the computer next to it, inputting a few commands before walking over to dim the light in the room.

“By the order of time, this is the first video we have received this year.” Fu Xianliang said, pointing to the screen in a knife-hand gesture.

Citizens of the world, it is with great pride that we announce the great day of our victory over the Atlantic Empire. As the last flames of nuclear retribution die down in the ruins of Hyperion, Federal forces pour in through the northern territories of the Fascist state to quell what remains of the terrorist regime in what has now been publicly referred to as the Second Surge. It is with great humility that I, Tiago Arruda Belchior, accept the honor of making this address.

The forces of evil kneel before us knowing they have been humbled by the strength of this Assembly of Nations. Our mission in Euphemie is henceforth counterinsurgency and the reestablishment of cohesive civil order. We do not stand against the Euphemian people, and never have. This fight is one we never sought, but one that was forced upon us by the unwarranted invasion of Alvimia by the Imperial Regime.

By the grace of God and the bravery of our troops, we have triumphed. The strategic decision by our Acasian allies to launch their nuclear weapons at Hyperion was one undertaken with great cost: one pursued because there was no better alternative. Many good men paid their lives — be they innocent civilians or loyal troops of the Federal States under the command of honored general Ricky Mauz... whose passing in the strikes was deemed a necessary sacrifice to prevent global nuclear armageddon.

Through the sacrifices of the brave men and women of the Coalition and the legitimate Federal States government, the free peoples of Ophir can once again prosper. The Second Euphemian Civil War has concluded. As I speak, Sinican and Angecalian forces move in upon the self-declared Republic of Vistierra in the former Goldenplate to bring to trial all members of the Neworder family and those responsible for hosting their presence. We will not tolerate those who harbor terrorists.

All members, present or former, of Imperial strategic drop forces, or SADAFOR, are to be regarded as terrorists and brought to justice accordingly. With the death of Emperor Honorius, so-called 'saint' Laila Neworder is to be regarded as public enemy number one, and brought to a permanent end. Similarly, the leadership of the Imperial general staff are to be regarded as terrorists. If you are hearing this, terrorists... I would firstly like to congratulate you, false saint. Our glorious victory would not have been this easy without your delusional lies. You instilled the blind faith necessary to make your compatriots never see the final strike coming.

To those soldiers of the Imperial Regime who still hold basic respect for human life in their hearts, I pray you will know the right thing to do: lay down your arms in surrender. Your twisted interpretation of the honorable Euphemianist faith has been proven completely and utterly wrong, and has only invited racism and xenophobia against your people abroad.

We will not hold you guilty for the tyranny of your superiors, your officers. All of Amure south of the Yurette River is to be Alvimian territory. Alvimians living under Imperial oppression are welcome to apply for their rightful citizenship.

The reorganization of what once was this tyrannical Empire will be a strenuous process — but not one the free peoples of the world will shy away from. It will require a transitional period to restore the Federal States of Euphemie to its antebellum state, and thus the allied nations have elected to establish a Coalition Provisional Government to help the Euphemian people return to civilized governance, and Alvimian citizens to establish their state government in South Amure.

The Great Ophiric War has ended in complete victory for the Coalition.

I congratulate all of you for this glorious triumph over the forces of oppression and evil!

God Bless the Coalition, and may peace and liberty reign over this continent. Anauê, Uãsuí, and Godspeed to you all!

“This was the victory declaration speech of the Coalition we spoke of. The Atlantic Empire mentioned in the video was no other than a split regime of Euphemie itself, according to the other supplementary information we have received since then. After the Calamity, or what we would refer to as the Eschaton, Euphemie had regressed into a religious regime worshipping their presidents as aspects of god and their important political and military figures as saints. In the earlier half of the fourth century, a domestic terrorist organization of their country had launched a successful nuclear strike, god know where they got that nuke, on their capital. The attack, as obvious as it could be, resulted in the death of their president and countless other important members of their government. This act had cut the legitimate lineage of succession in their country. The Federal State collapsed overnight as our motherland, Sinica, step by step rose from the ashes of Eschaton to become the new reigning superpower of our cradle planet.”

"I am confused, Director..." General Chong spoke up, scoffing. "I thought this was supposed to be bad news? Our brethren at home are prospering! The Euphemians have been shattered! Where is the... 'bad news'?"

“I wish it had all been that simple. The Euphemians were indeed defeated, but their laughable remnants are still fighting on to this day. What seemed to be their leader had eventually managed to transmit a message to us recently. The exact message was stored on the station when it lost contact with us. Here, take a look.” Fu inputted a command, playing a second footage showing a Euphemian woman on screen.

"Why are the cradle-dwellers so... short?" questioned Sima.

"Let us hear what the woman will say." Gongsun interjected.

"Centuries may have separated us, but Vesta's lights still yet glimmer upon our telescopes. We have not forgotten you; O Vestan brethren, Timorian brethren! I have remained watchful, just as God has, over the progress of your civilization. The fear of the Timorius Warheads has consistently discouraged recontact. But desperate times often call for desperate measures. As our peoples, our sacred Euphemian race are picked apart, squandered, degraded by the foreign corporations, I find the necessity of recontact to outweigh the consequences.

My name is Laila All-Praised I. Neworder. Though the sanctity of my title does not dawn upon you, know the great task that weighs upon you. I am the progeny of the great unifier, the President who brought Oesterran and Euphemian alike to cast aside their differences, who skewered the Mederune beast, who liberated the world and defined history! His vision rests with me, Living Saint of all Euphemia. This is to be regarded as an executive order. We cannot bear to stand divided so long as the destruction of our home persists— a home we both regard as sacred.

Though space and time divide us, but the weight of this mission is one that cannot be understated. I do not strive to force war upon those who hold on to our holy legacy in the cosmos; nay, I summon those remaining loyal, who look upon Tsion not as a distant light, but as your true home... to prepare! Euphemia calls, friends. For the so-called victors of this struggle, those hellbent on the dessecration of our people, will surely come for you once they reclaim their mantle in the stars. The clock ticks — and you must prepare. Find it within your Euphemian hearts to know this threat to be true, that a threat grander and greater than ever imagined possible prepares for the annihilation of all semblances of what once was our nation.

I compel you with the divine authority of my grandfather, as one Euphemian to another, to redeem yourselves in His light by taking up arms and preparing for the war to come. It will come regardless of whether you prepare... and thus I ask you with all my heart to know your enemy. It will be a war unparalleled by past conflicts— equalled only, perhaps, by the Calamity itself. It will be a war... spanning the stars. You must acquire the Timorius Warheads once more, if they still remain. Rebuild the space fleet... prepare for the tribulations to come.

Perhaps none will receive my message... but I send this with the last sliver of hope that there are loyal, faithful remaining. What will you tell your mothers, your fathers—... children, grandchildren? That you stood idle in Euphemie's greatest time of need? I send this order with the hopes that it will be received and heeded by the men and women of noble spirit and character we sent to the stars five centuries before. As brethren, as Euphemians, only time and space separate us. I beseech you, my comrades, to do what you must to go beyond the time and reclaim your birthright. May the Lord strike me down for invoking his name if I was not worthy; Hail Fern, and Hail to Neworder, the greatest icons of the name Euphemia to ever live. Euphemie awaits, stellar brethren!"

“I think for anyone smart enough, they would immediately be able to tell what could happen if this information fall into the hand of Terminus, or perhaps worse, the Euphemian moon-dwellers on Timorius. Even worse, should this transmission itself be found out by the Coalition, we may soon be having a space fleet from our cradle heading at us, ignorant of our current situation and preparing for the worst.”

"But I don't understand..." General Chong exhaled a puff of smoke, lit cigar in hand. "This broadcast completely contradicts the Coalition victory broadcast."

“Of course it contradicts what the other broadcast says.” Teng Wande interjected. “It comes from the other side of this conflict. Put us in their place, us and Terminus would also make a contradicting introduction of ourselves to the people of Tsion should we be replying to the messages. It was a matter of perspective, not facts. Yet, Fu raised a good point here, if this information, touch wood, really fell into the hands of Terminus, it could only spell disasters. We must start preparing for the impact now.”

Gongsun raised a hand. "Are you implying that this woman has falsely ordered Terminus to prepare towards attacking Tsion... and our station carrying precisely that intel may have been deliberately compromised by the Euphemians? Is there a chance they have... 'received' their 'orders'?"

“Yes, I’d wish I’m lying but this possibility is very much real.” Fu nodded, face sweating. “This is, dare I say it, an interplanetary emergency.”

A few murmurs ensued among those present at the round table, Gongsun Sheng briefly lowering his head in deep thought. "We are faced with a scenario that cannot be avoided, gentlemen. Even if the Euphemians have not received their orders, and the incident on our station is but mere accident — the Euphemian space vessel being nearby mere... happenstance coincidence... it is still a very real possibility that the Tsionic powers have intercepted this broadcast... and fearing the worst, work towards a space force of their own."

Gongsun continued. "Even if we make a counter-broadcast to the Tsionic powers, the interplanetary nature of this crisis means both parties will be inherently bound to distrust one another. We have no leverage, no means to prove our good intentions to them. And, simply put... they would have no reason to believe us. If I were them, this would be my exact line of reasoning. They will be unable to differentiate friend or foe. You can hardly get an idea of a planet's political boundaries from space, after all. Should this woman's order to seize and activate the Timorius warheads be true... then, by God, our cradle may be in grave danger."

"Among the tenets that built our great nation, gentlemen, was the total independence of Vesta and its people. We are Vestans, and we do not heed the orders of distant nations, distant peoples who do not understand our struggle, nations that centuries ago exploited us for our resources and labor. The struggle of taming this planet flows in our veins, and I do not deny that with my assertion. Over two-hundred fifty-one years ago, Tsion sent their finest to conquer and tame the final frontier. We are those finest... but it is a reminder."

"Be they Timorian, Vestan... Zhu, Chastain, Terminus... it matters not. It is a reminder that we belong to Tsion. It is not our destiny, it is not our future... but it is our cradle, our sacred origin. We must never forget our origins... that pale blue dot in the eternal void of space, millions of miles away from our home, is our sacred cradle we must preserve and protect."

"Over two-hundred fifty-one years ago... Tsion sent their finest. Those who remain continue to plunder, pillage, destroy our sacred pale blue dot with conflict, nuclear weapons, climate change, deforestation. As contradictory as it sounds, gentlemen..."

"We as red-blooded, honorable Vestans must protect Tsion!" Balling a fist, Gongsun stood tall from his seat, heart racing as he looked on at those in the room.

"We cannot let the Euphemians, operating on this mysterious woman's false orders, locate and fire the Timorius Warheads at our brethren millions of miles away. Over two-hundred fifty-one years ago... they put their trust in us. Let us prove to them they did the right thing." The cold silence lasted a mere few seconds before the room erupted into applause.

“Everyone, I think the situation is now clear. No matter for the sake of the patriotic men and women on that station, or for the sake of our cradle, or ultimately, ourselves on Vesta. We must once again venture into the final frontier above us.” Teng Wande stood up, pointing to the roof above. “We are in a race with time. The future of Vesta, Tsion and Timorius are now tied together. For the past two-hundred and fifty-one years, we have isolated ourselves on this planet, tending for the welfare of our own people, but we have developed into a strong and prosperous country over the centuries, perhaps one of the strongest on Vesta. It is time for us to bear the responsibilities which we have long neglected, to once again launch into space and serve as a fellow guardian of our human civilization. We may have lost the last war in space, but we shall once again be shining in space like the sun for all of mankind!”

"万岁!" Gongsun declared, followed by much of the room.

The Celestial Empire stood undeterred; not by the death of their astronauts, and not by the gravity of the situation that now loomed before them.

WFF Series 3: Brave New World [IC, CLOSED]

WFF Series 3: Brave New World [IC, CLOSED]

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