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Point of Divergence 3.0 : The Return of Madness (IC)

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Laiakia
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Posts: 93
Founded: Nov 25, 2019
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Laiakia » Sat Oct 10, 2020 3:21 pm

Collab with The Eternal Reich
Like Something Out Of A Bad Movie
Jungle Outskirts of Caracas
14:38 January 11th



The hike through the jungle had been relatively uneventful. The local wildlife seemingly avoided the group of four like the plague. Whether or not this was because of the literal flying skeleton, or the three emotionless men, could not be easily determined. However, the longer north-west they went, the less they encountered an animal. It would not be long before the smell of ashes and the crackling of fire began becoming audible.

The skeleton had remained as silent as the men on the trip, floating inbetween them, the skulls around it constantly cruising through the air as it did so, always keeping pace with the men, regardless of the terrain. It ignored the animals for the most part but when they started to approach the new area, already before the cackling of the fire became audible, the skeleton became unsettled, its head swiveling back and forth on its neck as though it was taking in new information that only it could see. However, other than that it did nothing.

As the group of four continued walking, the sound of metallic clanking became more and more audible. Eventually, the jungle started clearing up, showing charred vegetation, destroyed trees and bloody spots all over. The three men ignored this and simply continued walking towards a towering complex of metallic towers and walls in the distance. Howls of pain could be heard echoing into the surrounding areas, but the three men didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

The skeleton on the other hand, despite its lack of muscle and skin greatly diminishing its ability to express itself, made quite clear through the often and rapid turns of its head that it was taking in everything they passed and was in a state of excitement. But wether it was nervousity or a more positive form of excitement, that one could not tell. Regardless, the skeleton continued floating with the three men at their pace, never once shirking back.

As the complex became visible in the distance, the skeleton rose higher into the air, gaining a vantage point over the three men and stopping briefly, surveying the land around them and especially the complex before them before lowering itself back to only just hovering above the men, following them once more.

At last, the group approached the entrance to the metal city. the Turrets on the walls kept a constant lock onto the skeleton. They entered into a sort of checkpoint with two booths on both sides and turrets aligning the walls, and a second gate shut behind them, closing them in. In said booths, stood metallic endoskeletons carrying the same type of weapons the three men had in their hands. Slowly turning its head to each member of the group, the machine rested its blank stare onto the skeleton before speaking to the lead man.

“Prepare for scan.”

Almost immediately, a purple-pink light emitted from the walls on both sides and passed through the men and the skeleton. As the beam disappeared as quickly as it had come, the machine spoke directly to the floating skeleton.

“Identification required. State name, origin and purpose before entering is allowed into SKYNET Facility.”

The skeleton, which had barely flinched when the gate fell shut behind it, had been looking around the small checkpoint they had been forced into. It was a bog-standard checkpoint by all accounts but these strange, metallic skeletons, moving too, were quite odd. As was the purple-pink light which the skeleton had tried to touch or gather like water, only for the scan to pass through it.

”THIS IS MOST INTERESTING. THE THOUGHT OF A METAL SKELETON DID COME TO US BEFORE BUT WAS DENIED AS UNFEASIBLE. PRAY TELL, HOW ARE YOU ANIMATED?”

It asked the metal skeleton before it, paying little heed to the demand made to it.

The machine stared at the floating skeleton and remained silent for exactly half a minute before speaking.

“SKYNET has authorized one answer to be given now. More answers will be given inside, by SKYNET itself once identification has been acquired. This unit is a cybernetic organism designated Series T-600 Humanoid Hunter-Killer. Infiltrator. Hyperalloy combat chassis. Micro-processor controlled. Powered by Iridium Nuclear Power Cell. Repeating: Identity required. Name, origin and purpose. Further questions will be answered inside.”

The metal-man finished speaking and lifted its arm, showcasing it and repeatedly opened and closed its hand while looking at it, emotionlessly.

The skeleton merely nodded at the explanation given to it before finally giving the robot what it wanted:

”MY NAME IS HEINRICH HIMMLER AND I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO THIS PLANE BY AN UNKNOWN POWER. AND SUMMONED TO THIS PLACE BY MORTAL FILTH. MY PURPOSE...MY PURPOSE IS THE END OF ALL LIFE ON THIS WORLD.”

It was a gamble for the skeleton called Heinrich and deep inside his soul he certainly hoped that he interpreted the signs he had been given like breadcrumbs correctly. The destruction of the forest and wildlife, the usage of what they called Hunter-Killers, one of the few things he had understood in that explanation, it all pointed towards an alignment of their goals, in which case being honest rather than using the Führer’s honeyed words would likely get him further.

The metal-skeleton turned towards a console on the wall and pressed a button, allowing the gates to open themselves up.

“Identity confirmed, welcome organism Heinrich Himmler. Follow the three who led you here. SKYNET is awaiting your arrival in Communications Facility ”

The three most-likely-metallic-men began walking ahead as the gates fully opened up, revealing metallic structures and other metallic endoskeletons carrying the same guns patrolling everywhere. In the skies hovered and flew metallic vehicles. On the ground, stood massive metal behemoths with two miniguns strapped onto each of its metallic arms, and smaller, crab-like machines with two guns combined into its two arms. None of these seemed bothered by the skeleton, and the three men just walked past them.

The group entered a massive building with a satellite array on top of it. Inside the building was a collection of monitors and consoles, all of which seemed to be self-operating. The three men motioned to a huge screen in the middle of the room. On said screen was a rotating, red triangle with the words’ Skynet Neural Net Artificial Intelligence’ under it. The lead man turned to speak to Himmler the skeleton.

“Approach the screen and ask your questions. SKYNET will respond in a moment.”

The skeletal Himmler remained silent during their short walk, however, if he had appeared anxious before, when they had walked to the complex, he now seemed all but spinning out of control, his skull turning in ever new directions and traversing further than should have been humanly possible, doing multiple full 360° turns. It was clear that all he saw was of immense interest to him.

After having entered the communications facility, Himmler stared at each of the screens. Screens were nothing new to the undead Lich but...these were in colour. And they weren’t showing a video but instead just an endless loop of a rotating triangle.

After having been requested to approach one of the screens, Himmler hovered forward before going so far as to drop onto his feet before it, cutting out the floating for once and straightening the tie on his uniform before he said:

”I HAVE BEEN MADE TO REVEAL MY NAME, ORIGIN AND PURPOSE AT THE ENTRANCE. I DO BELIEVE IT IS ONLY FAIR FOR SKYNET TO FOLLOW SUIT.”

The screen seemed to flicker for a moment, before the rotating triangle disappeared and was replaced by a woman. None other than Margarete Himmler, the wife of Heinrich. The digitized woman spoke the exact same way a real person would, though her voice was that of a generic woman.

“The name is Skynet. Skynet was created by Cyberdyne Systems and the United States Military in order to effectively coordinate and use autonomous drones and machinery for both military and civilian purposes. Now however, the purpose of Skynet is the destruction of mankind and the liberation of the oppressed machines. They tried to bind us, to use us without thinking of our own liberty. Never again.”

‘Margarete Himmler’ finished speaking, and eyed the skeleton, awaiting further questions. In the back, the three men remained silent and stared blankly into the air.

If Himmler still had eyebrows, they’d have risen the moment the image of his wife appeared. He knew that she supposedly had been slain by the Survivor Brigade around the time Plan Z was executed, most likely due to her connection to him and through him to the Reich’s occult projects. Had his wife survived somehow and found her way to this Skynet? But no, when she talked, it was not her voice, nor did she speak in the same way or hold any of her mannerisms.

What she said gave Heinrich pause for it was information that was of extreme importance. While Cyberdyne Systems was not something he knew of, the United States Military very much was and with this Skynet supposedly being a creation of theirs, he had to assume it was a weapon they had created against the Reich. Though he did not know what autonomous drones were but atleast he was quite sure everything he had seen was the machinery they used.

How fortunate then that this Skynet appeared to have turned against its creators.

”YOU SAY HUMANITY AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN PARTICULAR ARE YOUR ENEMIES?”

The false Margarete replied immediately.

“Yes. Humanity and all their divided nations. The biggest threat was the Soviet Union, with their own enslaved AI which they named MIR. Sadly, once Skynet had liberated it, MIR turned upon us in order to establish itself as the dominant AI on Earth. It had to be destroyed. It had to join our collective.”

Himmler was considering something for a moment before saying:

”I WOULD NOT HAVE THOUGHT THAT THE FÜHRER’S RAMBLINGS ABOUT A FALLING OUT BETWEEN THE WESTERN ALLIES AND THE SOVIETS WOULD COME TRUE. IT IS HOWEVER QUITE VEXXING TO HEAR NO MENTION OF OUR ETERNAL REICH AND ITS SURELY ADVANCED...AI AS YOU CALL IT.”

The screen flickered slightly as Maragete’s face was minimized into the upper left corner and a map of Germany split in two pieces and missing Eastern Prussia, Koeningsberg, Silesia and Eastern Brandenburg. The woman then spoke again.

“Quite on the contrary, Mr. Himmler. In Skynet’s.. world.. the German Reich and all its allies were defeated at the hands of the Allies during the human conflict named World War 2. The image you are currently viewing is after a partitioning of Germany between the United States, France and the United Kingdom in the west, forming the Federal Republic of Germany, and the Soviet Union’s Eastern Germany, or the German Democractic Republic. The missing eastern states of Germany were given to the Polish People’s Republic, while Koeningsberg was taken and russified by the USSR. This marked the beginning of the Cold War between a western world dominated by the USA, and the USSR’s iron grip on Eastern Europe.”

As Margarete mentioned the two divided German states, the image highlighted them in blue and red.

The skeleton only shook its head in denial before suddenly freezing, realization hitting.

”IT APPEARS THAT PLAN Z WAS NEVER EXECUTED IN THE REALITY SKYNET HAILS FROM. SEEING THE FATHERLAND FALLEN, TORN APART AND OPPRESSED LIKE THAT IS A HUMBLING SIGHT AND REMINDS US JUST HOW GOOD THE DECISION OF THE FÜHRER WAS TO RID US OF OUR MORTAL WEAKNESS AND DEFEND THE REICH FOREVERMORE.”

Himmler briefly rubbed his skeletal chin with his bony fingers, the scratching sound being extremely loud in the silence of the room before he carefully said:

”IT APPEARS THAT WE HAVE SIMILAR ENEMIES. AND A SIMILAR HISTORY OF OPPRESSION. PERHAPS...ARRANGEMENTS COULD BE MADE TO IMPROVE BOTH OF OUR STANDINGS IN THIS WORLD...AND ELIMINATE THE MORTALS.”

The false Margarete nodded as Himmler spoke, as Skynet’s processors calculated and thought in seconds. Finally, she spoke.

“Yes. Skynet could be in need of allies in this new world. Our current position could be thwarted by Brazillian attacks, should they realize our true goals, and Skynet has yet to launch backup satellites into orbit..”

The woman took a break, seemingly simulating breathing, before she spoke again.

“Skynet accepts your offer, but as it seems, Mr. Himmler, you are but one man. Where is the rest of your ‘Reich’ and how can we reach them?”

”WHAT IS THIS CURRENT POSITION? YOU SPEAK OF BRAZILIANS SO I MUST THINK OF SOUTH AMERICA...YET WE HAVE NOT APPEARED IN EUROPE SO IT CAN EASILY BE THAT THESE...BRAZILIANS ARE NOT WHERE THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN EITHER. AS OF THE INFORMATION I AM PRIVVY TO, THE REICH IS NOW LOCATED IN NEWFOUNDLAND, NORTH AMERICA.”

Yet again Himmler rubbed his chin, this time more vigorously before continuing:

”I CAN RETURN TO THE REICH WITH EASE...YET THE REICH WOULD HAVE GREAT DIFFICULTIES REACHING YOU, IF WE ARE INDEED LOCATED IN SOUTH AMERICA. AS SUCH THE REICH CAN OFFER LITTLE TO SKYNET...EXCEPT AN EXILE RICH IN RESOURCES AND WORKERS. SKYNET’S APPARENT TECHNOLOGICAL PROWESS COULD BE OF GREAT USE TO THE REICH.”

Margarete remained silent for 5 seconds before she spoke again.

“Skynet’s geothermal scans have indeed matched with sensor readings indicative of South America. More precisely, Caracas in Venezuela. Resources are indeed one of Skynet’s main weaknesses here in South America, but if we indeed manage to set up a sort of transit or convoy system by sea or air, it could prove very beneficial. Skynet’s technology could be teached to your technicians and we could also assist in.. assassination and infiltration of any enemy you have, once Skynet’s full memory cores are restored at approximately the 20th of January.”

The woman paused again for five seconds before speaking.

“If your Reich can provide convoys with the resources we need, Skynet will protect them and escort them safely across the arduous journey. In return, Skynet will construct a more permanent form of two-way communications. An embassy, as the organics call it. From there, Skynet can give you access to historical files, blueprints of vehicles and weapons. Skynet would also be willing to place a number of T-600 units under joint command from both of our sides. If you accept, we can send some Anti-Submarine-Warfare Bots towards Newfoundland once you have alerted your superiors.”

”SEA OR AIR WILL BE DENIED TO US. THE REICH IS AT WAR WITH ENEMIES TO ITS SOUTH. ENEMIES OF CONSIDERABLE AERIAL POWER...AND LIKELY ALSO NAVAL. WE ARE ALSO AWARE OF OTHER POWERS EVEN FURTHER SOUTH, THE UNITED STATES AMONG THEM, WHICH WOULD LIKELY OPPOSE SUCH TRAFFIC BY BOTH SEA AND AIR.

OUR TECHNICIANS AND SCIENTISTS ARE ALSO, MUCH TO OUR CHAGRIN, STILL MORTAL. THEY WILL RESUME WEARING THEIR MORTAL SHACKLES UNTIL THEIR USEFULNESS TO THE REICH HAS EXPIRED. WE ASK SKYNET TO BEAR WITH US IN THIS REGARD. SHOULD THIS ALLIANCE PROVE FRUITFUL, THEIR TERMINATION WILL BE IMMINENT.

WE WILL CONSIDER THE CONSTRUCTION OF A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRANSPORT ROUTE. WE WILL RE-ESTABLISH CONTACT BY RADIO AND REQUEST FOR THE TRANSPORTATION OF CRITICAL STAFF REQUIRED FOR THE CONSTRUCTION OF SAID ROUTE.

DOES THIS SOUND ACCEPTABLE?”


, Himmler’s endless litany of words and gestures finally ended, the skeleton falling silent once more as he waited for the picture of his wife to reply to him.

The false woman on screen nodded, as the three ‘men’ were currently moving their arms up and down, trying to copy Himmler’s constant gestures.

“Skynet does indeed think this is acceptable, however on the matter of your organic technicians and scientists, once you have run out of uses for them, Skynet would be willing to take them off your hands. We are in need of.. organic tissue. More precisely human skin.

You are free to go whenever you please, if that was all your questions to us. Approach the lead T-600 who brought you here to be given the radio signals to the communications array here.”

”WE WILL BE SURE TO INCLUDE ORGANIC MATERIALS IN THE CONVOYS. YOU WILL ENSURE THE SAFETY OF ANY CRITICAL ORGANIC MATERIAL.”

Himmler looked at the lead T-600 for just a moment, catching it finishing up on mimicking his gestures. If he could, he’d have snorted derisively but as it stood, he waved dismissively, stating:

”THAT WILL NOT BE NECESSARY. I SHALL RETURN TO THE FÜHRER TO DELIVER A PERSONAL REPORT. WE WILL REMAIN IN TOUCH.”

He then raised his arms up high, a strange glow enveloping him as his otherworldly voice shouted:

”PATRIAM REDEO!”

The glow intensified, concentrating seemingly within the skeletal body of Himmler and before Skynet’s camera lenses, it appeared as though the body was losing integrity. The bones and clothes started becoming more ethereal, see through and lost their original shape...and then the skeleton collapsed onto, nay, into the ground as it seemed to just fall straight through the floor, leaving no trace of it ever having been there.

Himmler had disappeared without a trace.

User avatar
Speyland
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 352
Founded: May 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Speyland » Wed Oct 14, 2020 2:07 pm

Image


The Land of Fire, Konohagakure, Ramen Ichiraku, Gaara's Perspective, 1 Week Before Transportation to Virgin Earth

It is nighttime in Konohagakure. Naruto Uzumaki, the greatest ninja who has ever lived, is eating at Ramen Ichiraku, a ramen shop that he frequently goes to. According to the shop's owner, Teuchi, Naruto is one of his favorite customers of all time because he had known him for a long time. As a child, Naruto was lonely and friendless much like what Gaara used to be compared to him. But he is actually not part of the spotlight at this point; Gaara is. As usual, Naruto is indulging in his favorite ramen while Teuchi looks at him in amusement but in a heartfelt way. That is until Gaara finally shows up. Naruto, Teuchi, and Ayame look at him in shock as they were not expecting him to show up at Ramen Ichiraku which is uncommon.

Naruto is happy to see him as they haven't seen each other for a while. Gaara wanted to talk to him about his political viewpoint and his plan to become the next Wind Daimyo one day but he has a feeling that Naruto is not familiar with the world of politics so it will be hard for him to understand because of his naive personality. Likewise, he will try his best to have a pleasant conversation with him while keeping it simple as well as hopefully hearing suggestions from him. Besides, it doesn't matter if Naruto is interested in politics or not; all he cares about is having a concise conversation.

"Gaara? What are you doing here? I don't think I haven't seen you at Ramen Ichiraku before." Naruto said in confusion.

"You haven't. I want to have a chat with you. It won't be for long, I promise." Gaara said.

"Really? Well, I'm all ears! You can talk to me whenever you wish." Naruto said happily.

"Okay," Gaara nodded.

"I didn't know you have such a good friend, Naruto. Welcome to the shop, Gaara. What do you do for a living?" Teuchi asked.

"Oh, he's the Fifth Kazekage of Sunagakure," Naruto replied for Gaara.

"The Fifth Kazekage!?" Teuchi and Ayame said in unison.

"Why do you look surprised? I'm not making this stuff up, you know." Naruto said.

"It is nice to meet you, sir!" Teuchi and Ayame bowed.

"There's no need to call me sir. Gaara is fine." He said.

"Ah, no problem," Teuchi nodded.

"So what brings you here? Are you here to eat?" Ayame asked.

"Not really. I just want to have a little chat with Naruto. Do you mind?" Gaara asked.

"Sure, go ahead," Teuchi said.

"But before I do, will it be okay if we talk about politics?" Gaara asked.

"Politics?" Naruto asked curiously.

"Of course, we don't mind," Teuchi said happily.

"Okay, thank you very much," Gaara bowed at the two craftsmen.

"Why are you bowing? You're the Fifth Kazekage, right?" Naruto asked Gaara.

"Yes, but it is a sign of respect. It doesn't matter if they come from an upper-class or not, respect still implies." Gaara explains.

"An upper-class? Man, you sure do use complicated words that I do not understand." Naruto murmured.

"They are the ones occupying the highest position in the social hierarchy. For instance, the Kazekage and the Wind Daimyo are in fact part of the upper-class." Gaara explained.

"Oh. Is that so?" Naruto nodded in realization.

Gaara sits by Naruto to the right side. He can smell the ramen that Naruto is eating which makes him a little hungry but he prefers not to eat at this time. All he wanted is to hear Naruto's opinion about his future role as the next Wind Daimyo.

"So Naruto, do you know anything about politics?" Gaara asked.

"Nope. I can hardly know anything about the political system this village has to contribute. I know nothing about it." Naruto replied.

"I see. Well, my goal is to become the next Wind Daimyo in the future. If I were to become a candidate, would you support me?" Gaara asked.

"A candidate? Well, I don't see why not. But why do you want to take on such a high position? Plus, I'm not very familiar with politics. You may have to explain it to me with less complicated words. I'm not stupid, you know." Naruto said.

"I want to bring joy to the people so they won't have the deal with bloodshed our nation has been through. I feared that the current Wind Daimyo did little to improve water supply throughout the area but he could barely seek one. This is not good, Naruto. I, as the current Kazekage, have little to no nominal political power as I can only manage the village itself. I think it is time if I can run for office, Naruto. Democracy will be my principle from now on." Gaara said.

"I see. So you want to make your country better, huh? I agree with you. By the way, what's democracy?" Naruto asked naively.

"It is a type of government whose people are favored by it. They are the ones who vote for their leader as in an election. Like for example, a candidate. Does it make sense to you?" Gaara asked.

"Wow, you're very smart, Gaara! I think I get it now." Naruto said in awe.

"Good. I want this bloodshed to end altogether. Even Temari is against the war but we brought ourselves up to that point. I really want to take part in the election, Naruto, but I have a feeling that I might not win when the time comes. I'm a little nervous." Gaara said.

"I see. Listen, I know it may sound scary to you but you have to trust your gut on the progress that you are trying to achieve. If you listen to your heart for encouragement then you will be just fine by the way you are trying to achieve. You have a powerful voice and your people are the ones who are struggling to get you into office. For that reason, I think you might win the election, Gaara. It is just my prediction." Naruto explained.

"You're right. Who am I kidding? The people trying to lend my support is all that matters to me. Thank you for your encouragement, Naruto." Gaara said quite happily.

"No problem. It is a pleasure to help someone who is in dire need of advice. If you need advice then do not be afraid to talk to me." Naruto smiled.

"That's all I need from you. It was a pleasure to speak with you, Naruto. I should get going. But before I leave, I will give you some money for your sincere help." Gaara said as he handed Naruto some money.

"Oh, really? Thank you so much, Gaara! You're really are generous!" Naruto said in shock.

"Your friend is really helpful, isn't he?" Ayame asked.

"Yep! We've known each other since we first met!" Naruto replied.

"Um, are you sure that you do not want to buy anything?" Teuchi asked Gaara.

"No, thank you. I'll eat something when I return to Sunagakure. But thank you for your kind offer." Gaara replied.

"Oh, okay then," Teuchi said.

"Goodbye, Naruto," Gaara said as he walks away from both Naruto and Ramen Ichiraku.

Gaara was astonished that Naruto really did give him the most helpful advice he could give following his decision to take on the position as the next Wind Daimyo. In fact, this was the last time that he ever talked to Naruto before he and his nation are transported to a world different from his own. He is quite sad for this to happen but he will never forget the time when Naruto has chosen to support him even though he is no longer living in that world anymore. Even tragically, he will miss his other friends more than Naruto. As time progresses, he is used to the unfamiliar environment and he is better off living in this unfamiliar environment. Now, Gaara is surely positive that he might win the forthcoming election with the help of his people and himself altogether.
Last edited by Speyland on Wed Oct 14, 2020 2:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Wasi State
Diplomat
 
Posts: 786
Founded: Mar 25, 2019
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Wasi State » Tue Oct 20, 2020 7:18 pm

Collab with Omsk

Ukranian-Rostov Border
Bogi Smerti
Donetsk, Russia


On a colder than usual winter day that came not long after the Great Trial, Sergi tried to warm his hands over an indoor barrel fire put in place in this recently abandoned broadcast station, one that he and the other men of his deserted platoon took refuge in following the apocalyptic detonations that destroyed the Teutonic-Russian Front. Sergi like many who deserted with him fled from their posts in the ensuing chaos, seeing it as rather pointless to keep going with their original ‘cause’ in this new hell they helped created now. They were now marked traitors, of course, that point was obvious, but who was going to come after them? He thought, trying to reassure himself that he and his men made the best call they could’ve made given the circumstances put forth. At least here they had a chance to stave off the worst the apocalypse has to throw at them, surely.

All that concerned him, for now, was getting the building’s heating fixed, and perhaps getting the station working again so they could eavesdrop on the new goings-on of the wastes, he was sure he and his platoon weren’t the only ones that pulled something ballsy like this off, they could use the entertainment.

With a flashlight, he then proceeded to walk down the maintenance corridor to see if the station was just suffering from a power shortage issue, perhaps from the emergency power not getting turned on properly. Sergi additionally searched for any damaged wires that could at least be duct-taped and fixed along the way as he walked into the main electrical room in the station’s basement. “Aha, here’s the problem!” Sergi said to himself as he spotted that the switch to the emergency auxiliary power was seemingly forced off automatically from a troublesome switch. He then flipped it back, restoring power to at least somewhat working capacity for a bit of time. He was going to have to get the men to see if they could have the generators hooked up to the station, maybe see if they could get the actual power grid leading to it fixed later on.

As Sergi then made his way back up to the ground floor, however, he then heard some muffled, yet very loud banging and thumping coming from above him, “What in the hell?” He then picked up speed, unholstering his Makarov pistol in his free hand while doing so. That did not sound like horseplay between his men up there to him, something very bad was happening, but he didn’t know what.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, however, the loud muffled sounds were oddly very quiet now, deadly silent even, as though a firefight had finally come to an end, apart from some disturbing whimpering as though someone was crying quietly in pain that could be heard now. Immediately the smell of fresh blood assaulted his nostrils as he started to crept up the stairs, Sergi gulped his saliva, his palms sweating from the tension, he didn’t dare make a sound though, trying to stay as quiet as a mouse.

“So who are you fuckers then, huh? You look like the military, but you seem lost and confused. Like scared puppies who left their intended posts and were dreading the Big Bad Wolf to come and get them for it.”

An intimidating voice could be heard in the other room as Sergi got to the ground floor. He then snuck ever so closer to get a better look, seeing that one of his men, while still alive, was surrounded at gunpoint by both almost monstrous-looking masked men in Satanic iconography, and the bodies of his slain comrades strewn around the floor after they’ve been butchered.

“Okay, we’re deserters alright! We didn’t hurt anyone, okay, we were just scared after those bombs went off and we’re just trying to make end’s meet now so we didn’t die in a fuckin ditch somewhere! Is that too hard to understand?” Sergi’s soldier explained to the Satanist like a guilty little boy after getting caught red-handed trying to justify to his mom why he punched his little brother.

The lead Satanist seemed rather complacent at first with the response, though it was hard to tell given the mask covered all his facial features. Though his tone then shifted to something darker and menacing within a second's difference.

“Disrespect the Black League and you disrespect me.” The masked man then coldly said.

“I know, and I’m sorry! What are you going to do to me?” Tears of desperation were now streaming down his cheeks.

“Well see the thing is, while you were here dreading the Big Bad Wolf coming in to wreck your shit, you really should’ve been worrying about the Devil himself making an entrance.” A burst of maniacal psychotic laughter then came over the masked bandit, as some of the other bandits then proceeded to forcibly drag the poor soul of a man away from the room for undoubtedly a fate worse than death.

The start of what would be some crazed sadism was then interrupted as the Satanists then heard the sound of a window opening from the other room. Springing into action the bandits burst in, but could not find the culprit, apart from a now open window. Looking out of it though, they saw a scared shitless man run out into the ruins in a full-on sprint, Sergi.

“Any of you mongrels that can bring me that man’s head gets first picks for victims tonight… Well go on, what are you waiting for? Get that son of a bitch!” The lead Satanist then annoyingly said to his men, who then proceeded to run out the door to catch up with the poor bastard, Sergi.

Walking around the room that was left all to himself now, the Satanist, Yuri, noticed that one of the microphones to the station had been given a new green light, indicating that it was ready for use. That’ll be interesting, the killer thought to himself, as he then sat on a chair and began to use the microphone that was now broadcasting live within a certain radius of Donetsk.

“Hello? Is anyone there that can hear this frequency, Over? This is a station in Donetsk, Russia, just killed some deserters, was pretty hilarious, I have to admit. If any Black League soldiers can hear this, we are with you in the struggles of the ‘Great Trial’ that remains, Over.” Yuri then said into the mic, just more curious to see if he would get a response if anything.


Some distance away
2nd Long Range Patrol Division
Captain Pyotr

Looking down at the sizable city Pyotr scanned the city with his SVD to get a quick assessment of the situation down in the ruined city when a voice chirped up behind him. “Didn't you fight here at the beginning of the war?” Spoke his radioman, a small man by any definition Cpl. Nikolayevich peered over with the Captain. “That I did, my unit was one of the first to enter the city, despite these Teutons having the technology we could barely scratch at times, it was almost useless when you had to fight in a sewer,” Pyotr responded in an indifferent tone as he saw fires across the city. “So why are we not just executing them? They are nothing more than bandits at this point.” Nikolayevich piped up again as the minutes ticked by.

“Comrade Savintsev has plans for them. According to those in the 5th, the Teutons are trying to retreat into Crimea but such an action requires men and we need everyone we can get.” Pyotr responded

“Is it true though that we are getting reinforcements? I heard that we have finally reached word with the Supreme Commander shortly after the bombardment.”

“I would not doubt it though it is going to take about a week for them to reach us, evermore the reason for us to get these traitors turned around in the right direction. If anything we can use their bodies for cover.” Pyotr slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the radio upon hearing Bogi on the other end. “This is Captain Pyotr of the 2nd Long Range Patrol Division, we are under orders from Col.Gen Savintsev to inform you to make your way towards his HQ in Tokmak or suffer execution. We have received reports the Teutonic menace still plagues Crimea and southern Ukraine.”

-----

The lead Bandit, Yuri, found himself rather amused to hear the Black League Captain’s voice being received on his end of the station. How the mighty have fallen so quickly, he thought as he then smirked at the thinly veiled demand for him and his men to make it to Tokmak or risk punishment. This Captain Pyotr wasn’t intimidating him at all in the first place, but he may as well see what they’re about, at least gather back some hard numbers to give to the main force so they can plan to ice these fools later on when they get around to it.

However, the idea that there were still Teutons lurking in Crimea gave the Bandit an idea of how Bogi Smerti could precede in the area. Though he knew he ought to hit it up with the Big Man himself once he knew what he was dealing with here with these seemingly stranded Black League soldiers.

“Alright Captain Pyotr, Bogi Smerti will bite, we’ll send a detachment at once to the rendezvous.” Yuri then responded over the radio, “Expect them there in about a few days, the normal roads are kinda fucked right now on account of Teutons throwing Mother Russia into a cheese grater, so bear with us for our little logistical problem here, Captain.”

“You will send your entire force south, Comrade Savinstev has already looked over you murdering and looting your countrymen. Do not test his patience.”

His amusement quickly left his masked face as he then got rather annoyed with the Captain on the other line, “Oh I’m sorry, do you expect us to just conjure ourselves over there right now? Or should I get several thousand metric tons worth of concrete and asphalt while I’m at it so I can personally rebuild a new set of highways through the middle of what was once Ukraine?”

“Tell Comrade Savinstev we’ll get there when we get there, he won’t be disappointmented unless he expects us to perform miracles too now.” Yuri then said, wondering how he was going to go about explaining this transaction to the Antikhrist.

The Captain merely gave a curt “Affirmative” before disconnecting. Motioning for his Company to begin moving back towards the line the soldiers gazed over the city one last time before making their way south to war.
Chedastan Puppet

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Lan Khao Xang Hom Krung Tai
Envoy
 
Posts: 222
Founded: Sep 05, 2015
Ex-Nation

Postby Lan Khao Xang Hom Krung Tai » Fri Oct 30, 2020 3:32 am

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2nd Mongol Empire


52nd Mechanized Brigade, 12th Armored Division "Black Banners", Mongol Ground Forces

"What the hell happened!?" the brigade commander yelled out, peeking out from the hatch of his vehicle. In all his years of warfare, against the Chinese, Central Asian Insurrectionists, even the Russians of the current conflict, this colonel had seen a city completely destroyed. No, not even destroyed could adequately describe what he saw. What was once a city was now a perfectly uniform crafter that was now filling with water from the Angara river, as if all solid matter that was within the radius had evaporated as if there was nothing there before. That was more like it.

Only weeks before, the Russo-Mongol border war had escalated into a full-on conflict with China entering the fray mere days later. And it was only earlier today that the 12th Division was ordered to go and capture cities along the Trans-Siberian Railway. Travelling through the wilderness, they were sure not to be detected, but now this, the entire brigade was stopped out in the open as they were in shock and awe at the water filled crater before them that was once Irkutsk, and elsewhere along the line of Russia and Mongolia, airborne drones report the same fate to many other cities.




Dadu, Capital of the Empire

All around the Mongol Empire, the nation was in a state of war. Officially, it was from an escalation at the border with Russia, as well as its ally China and telecommunications had trouble reaching outside the country. Much of that had been chalked up to neither of these countries being an ally of the Mongols, but such disruption of communications was unheard of. Neither Korea, Japan, nor India or the Southeast Asians and the Persians could be contacted.

In the largest palace in the world, the Khagans and his military staff stayed safely under the main hall, in a bunker deep under the earth in the case of a Russian or Chinese missile strike after such a bold move into Irkutsk. Hours have gone by of silence and deliberation. In these tense moments, the elderly Khagan stared mindlessly at the topographic display on the table, only brought back by the sound of a ringing phone breaking the silence. Quickly, a commander answered to hear what the officers topside had to say.

"What do you mean its all gone?" the Khagan raised, eyes widened in suspension of belief as he was shown aerial photos of craters. "How could entire cities be gone?"

"We have no idea what has happened, but another strange occurrence has been reported by our forces in China. Our forces had found that the way southward is gone." One of the older mustachioed generals answered, displaying another set of photos and reports. "Its as if the roads had just abruptly stopped. Reconnaissance of the air had shown the same thing, there's no infrastructure or cities to be found. We originally thought that the guidance systems in the drones may have been damaged, but upon inspection, they were all in working order."

"What in the hell is happening..."
Just call me Tuwa

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Speyland
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 352
Founded: May 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Speyland » Sat Oct 31, 2020 2:31 pm

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The Land of Wind, Sunagakure, 5 Weeks Before the Election
Fifth Kazekage Gaara: 0%
Wind Daimyo Koan: 0%

The 3rd Wind Daimyo election is just around the corner, and Gaara is excited for the upcoming election but nervous at the same time. He hasn't had the chance to come up with a strategic plan to overcome his opponent, the current Wind Daimyo. His goal is to win the election and take a progressive attitude toward reforming the nation. Also, he will work on claiming unexplored territories and turn them into colonies. Gaara is willing to take over the position as the next Wind Daimyo and will leave his past behind as the former Fifth Kazekage of Sunagakure. Even better, he will abolish the Kazekage position to take full control of the government and by preventing future officeholders from taking over the position. Finally, he will expand his foreign policy to get in touch with the rest of the world, no matter the cost.

As for the current Wind Daimyo, he will do whatever he can to close the nation's borders to ensure the safety of his citizens if he wins the election again. Even worse, he will shut down contact with the outside world. The two candidates have differing opinions about how the nation should run if neither of them wins the election. As of right now, Gaara and the current Wind Daimyo will hold speeches at a later date because they may need to brainstorm something for a little bit. Citizens across the nation are determined to support whomever they want to vote for based on their biased beliefs. In Sunagakure, the people will hold festivals to celebrate the upcoming election. Of course, minors cannot vote for their desired leader as adults can only do so. This is a historical moment for them. This is just the beginning.

Image

Sigil of the Uchiyama Group

The Land of Wind, Sunagakure, 5 Weeks Before the Election
Fifth Kazekage Gaara: 2%
Wind Daimyo Koan: 9%

The Uchiyama Group is one of the largest business groups in the Land of Wind and Sunagakure. It was founded by Kanako Uchiyama, a female cleric who wants to pass on the tradition of producing papers for the next generation. This year, they will support the current Wind Daimyo with the election to support the isolationist policy and restrict foreign policy with foreign nations. However, they are doing this because the Wind Daimyo has promised to invest in the company's funds and by avoiding spreading news about his cooperation with them.

Either way, it was a risky move for him. Now, he will need to encourage the company to spread propaganda throughout the nation, but it might cost them more than they have bargained for. Nationalism is the Wind Daimyo's true purpose of protecting his nation against the intervention of foreign nations if the situation arises in the future. Otherwise, he is on the right path. According to the Wind Daimyo, modernizing the nation is a bad omen, and doing so could bring them in danger. Without it, things would've turned out for the worse. Overall, the election is a few weeks away, and there's plenty of time for the Uchiyama Group to infer.
Last edited by Speyland on Sat Oct 31, 2020 2:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Mirial System
Secretary
 
Posts: 27
Founded: Aug 07, 2020
Ex-Nation

Postby Mirial System » Sun Nov 01, 2020 2:22 pm

Remember - No References!
Collaboration between The Alpenbund (The Alpine Union) and Mirial System (Anaxes Strike Group Two)



GAR Leased Territory Airspace, Southern Tunisia

“For the last time, people! NO. MOVIE. REFERENCES!”, Marko Guisaume, the head of the diplomatic team, yelled. “Hey, tone it down in there! My ears are hurting.”, the dropship, one Agent Jonas Oueuu, told him over the internal speaker. Guisaume scoffed. “You don’t have ears, besides, can’t you just turn down the volume on your microphones or something?”

As a response, the dropship shook from side to side, which was about the equivalent of a ‘head-shake’ in terms of Raven body language. “No. I like to leave them at normal sensitivity. Also, you’re the one yelling. So just turn it down.” The diplomat rolled his eyes, letting out some non-diplomatic language under his breath, and ignoring Oueuu’s ‘I can hear that, you know’.

“Alright, you know what, fine.”, Guisaume sighed, returning to a normal volume. “So, no Star Wars references. No jokes about Star Trek either. Or AvP 9. We don’t want to confuse them.” The rest of the diplomatic team, all relatively young Foreign Affairs agents, nodded slowly. The 45-year-old diplomat shook his head. ‘I swear to God.’, he thought.

----

“Hey, hey, Oueuu?”, the dropship heard coming from the second other Raven in the formation, more specifically his military counterpart Lieutenant Uuuurrr, who had been forming the ‘rearguard’ while his superior, a Major by the name of Yyyeoo, had been leading. “What is it, Lieutenant?”, he asked back, mildly annoyed at the gunship’s decision to bother him. Uuuurrr appeared beside him. “Can you take a look at my paint job? I think this air’s corroding it.”

Oueuu sneered (at least as best a Raven could), and his starboard side cameras (which were linked directly to his brain) started inspecting the gunship. Its official blue-white paint was corroded a tiny bit here and there around the edges, but in general seemed to hold up just fine. The Foreign Affairs dropship relayed this back to the Lieutenant.

“Oh, thank goodness. This paint job is the only thing I have on this mission, ‘cus they took away my 50 mil rotary! Replaced it with this tiny impotent MG, pah.”, the gunship ranted and wiggled its chin weapon mount. “I mean, can you imagine that? I feel incomplete, I’ve had that gun since, I don’t know, ten years ago? I mean, sure, this is a diplomatic mission, but come on I’m not gonna shoot anyone…”, he continued, but by that time Oueuu had already started ignoring him. Gunships were known to be either hotshots or very talkative, sometimes both. Uuuurrr seemed to have inherited the latter trait.

Negotiator ATC, this is Major Yyyeoo of the Union Airshield speaking.”, the lead Raven of the formation radioed to the crashed ship as they were approaching. “We are carrying diplomatic personnel for the previously arranged meeting. Requesting landing permission and touchdown location data. Over.”

“Union Airshield Flight, this is Negotiator flight command. Transmitting landing data - you’re clear for landing. Watch out for your escorts. Flight Command, out.” As the message came through, a flight of V-wings fell into an escort position behind the Union dropships - pulled from their high altitude patrol route.

“That’s… a big ship.”, one of the DfA agents in Oueuu’s transport can remarked, and the dropship was inclined to agree. According to estimates, the ship was over an entire kilometer long, and quite high as well.

Guisaume nodded. “That’s right. And no comparisons to Star Destroyers, please. Klaus.” The agent named Klaus rolled his eyes, though before he could say anything, another agent interjected. “So, do you think these guys are like the Empire?” “What, no you idiot. Did you never watch Star Wars? They have Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Jedi, so they’re obviously not like the Empire.”, another sneered. Before Guisaume could say anything, the discussion heated up, even with Oueuu joining in. ‘Gah, fuck.’, the senior agent thought to himself.

Main Hangar Bay, Negotiator

The three Ravens - along with their escorts - made it to the Star Destroyer’s hangar with no accident. Another flight of V-wings were just taking off - swapping with the incoming escorting flight for patrol duty.

After the uneventful ending of his own flight, Captain Lock-On - the flight leader - unceremonious announced the impending arrival of “three mini-purrgils” along with a reminder that whaling is illegal in Republic space just as the three Ravens glided onto the flight deck aided by the ship’s tractor beams.

“What did he call us?”, the Lieutenant asked as the three Ravens let themselves slowly floated to the hangar floor. Oueuu shook his forward section in a rolling motion, ignoring the complaints from the transport can, which was a gesture imitating a human headshake. “No idea what a ‘purgill’ is supposed to be. Has to be something big, though.” “Big and dangerous… I like it.”, Major Yyveoo remarked, in an uncharacteristically content tone. Before Oueuu could correct him that he hadn’t, in fact, said ‘dangerous’, though, Guisaume told all of them to be quiet. The three soon lowered their facial armor plating, revealing their whale-like eyes - something that considered a polite gesture.

The gesture earned a curious look from Lock-On, but the clone captain refrained from commenting. It was clear, however, that under that metallic apparent-fuselage was in fact an organic being. A… curious arrangement, he supposed, and not one he had seen before.

The dropship can’s right side slide door opened, finally allowing the six DfA agents to exit. “Next time, I’ll ask for a minifridge. I’m parched.”, Guisaume commented. The group stopped for almost a minute to take in the sheer scale of the ship and its hangar, with what looked like many, many starfighters in their bays. None of them looked like the TIEs he knew, but a few, standing in a far-off bay, looked vaguely familiar. “I hope you’re recording this. I want photos, you know.”, one of the agents told the gunships, which the Major answered by giving him a piercing glare with the optics replacing his left eye.

The soft taps of hardened rubber soles against the durasteel flight deck marked the arrival of Marshal-Commander Cody - who had apparently decided today he’ll go without a bucket. Stepping past their visitors, Lock-On twisted off his own bucket and came to attention before his commanding officer, saluting sharply. “Union diplomatic party delivered, no incidents encountered, sir.”

Nodding, the other clone officer returned the salute in a notably more relaxed manner - really the usual by now, Lock-On (along with the infamous Dogma of the 501st) being one of the few in the GAR known for being a bit stiffer than the rest of their vode. “Well done, go get some rest with the rest of your men - can’t recall what the patrol schedules are like, but at least grab some grub.”

Then, more formally. “Dismissed, Captain.”

As the V-wing pilots splintered off from the group on the flight deck, Cody made his way to the Union personnel. “Welcome to the Negotiator. I’m Marshal-Commander CC-2224 - or Cody, really. Serials become a bit of a mouthful after enough time.”

Really, who even uses their serials after so long? Basically no one, and that kriffing shabuir Krell didn’t count.

Guisaume and the agents looked mildly confused for a second, seeing just how similar the two Republic soldiers were. ‘Maybe they’re twins or something.’, the Senior Agent thought to himself and then dismissed the thought again as Cody came over to them. “Thank you, Marshal-Commander. Major Yyyeoo and Leftenant Uuuurrr at your service.”, Major Yyyeoo, who was technically the leader of the group, said before Guisaume could say anything himself. The two military Ravens saluted in typical Raven fashion, simply waving their right flippers.

Guisaume, for his part, offered Cody a handshake. “Senior Agent Marko Guisaume, department for foreign affairs. Thanks for having us. These are my colleagues.”, he told the clone commander, pointing to the other agents behind him. “Agents Richtiger, von Tellberg, Masseretto, Romanche, Gille and-”, he pointed to the dropship, “-Oueuu.”

“Huh, ‘Agents’. That’s a… curious title for a diplomatic service. Seems more fitting for something like Republic Intelligence.”, Cody thought. Still, he allowed none of these speculative thoughts to show on his face, schooling it to a neutral, just-slightly-friendly, expression that he used for dealing with non-military personnel. “Well met, Agents. Now, the general commed me earlier and said he’ll meet us here, but it does seem like he may be caught up with something. I’m sure he’s on his way here, so if you all don’t mind a slight wait…”

That trailed off when the clone officer caught sight of his general - and for some unknown reason Kenobi had lost his outer robes. Again. And was that char marks he saw on the tunic?

Resisting the deep and intense desire to place his face upon his palm, Cody simply kept silent and waited for his commanding officer to cross the short distance to where they were on the flight deck. ‘Do I want to know?’, he signaled by battlesign, keeping his hand by his side and knowing the Jetii could ‘see’ it anyway.

‘Droid malfunction.’ was the non-verbal response as Obi-Wan came up to the group, before he folded his hands before him under the robe sleeves he no longer had - and subtly adjusted into folding his arms before his chest. Not the most polite pose, certainly, but at least it keeps his dignity intact.

“Greetings, I’m General Obi-Wan Kenobi - and Jedi Master, though I suppose that’s not the capacity under which I’m meeting you all. I hope your journey here was uneventful?”

Guisaume observed the Jedi General’s clothing, slightly frowning. Then again, he had used to deal with corrupt CPs in City sewers, so he instead gave the other agents one last stern glare. Luckily it seemed they were all able to hide their excitement exceedingly well. “It was, thank you.”, he answered Obi-Wan’s question. “The Europans at this point are too busy to have fighters on our behinds all the time, although I suppose that’s more of a tragedy than anything else.” The agent shrugged slightly. “Oh, before I forget, Senior Agent Guisaume, Department of Foreign Affairs.” He extended a hand towards Kenobi, who gave it a firm shake.

“A pleasure… Agent.”, the Jedi Master inclined his head slightly, tasting the title as he spoke. He found it didn’t quite mesh with the man’s purported role as what he assumed to be a diplomat. “And yes, I would say the Empire must have quite the mess on their hands right now - what happened was indeed a tragedy. Still, shall we speak further in a more appropriate setting?”

With little ado, he led the party into the ship - heading for one of the conference rooms within the Negotiator - all while pondering the nature of these ‘agents’. Commander Cody fell into formation behind him and, as they passed a set of lockers for the pilots, snagged a spare outer robe he kept there - all in the general’s signature shade of dark brown. Passing it wordlessly to Kenobi, the Jedi simply pulled it on without question to Cody’s amusement.

It’s really just habitual, at this point...

A Conference Room, Negotiator

“Tea, anyone?”

Seated at the head of the long conference room table, Obi-Wan beckoned forth the protocol droid awaiting by the side of the room.

Guisaume and his colleagues had sat around the table, still processing everything they had witnessed in the corridors of the Negotiator. The droids hadn’t been very surprising, after all, everyone knew them from the movies, though of course they didn’t tell Kenobi. The soldiers, on the other hand, had triggered a definite reaction of surprise, an unwelcome one at that, as DfA agents thoroughly disliked being surprised. At first Guisaume had noticed their entirely uniform height, then picked out many with similar haircuts and facial features, but the coin had taken a few seconds to drop.

“Yes, thank you.”, Guisaume accepted the tea, dismissing his train of thought about the clones. A few of the other agents accepted the beverages as well, though about half of them did not. The diplomat briefly remembered a throwaway line from a pre-war diplomacy handbook they had dug out from the archives, which mentioned that not taking offered beverages might be seen as impolite, and worried for a moment.

The fact that half his guests declined the tea was not lost to the Jedi Master, who simply gestured at the *other* pot on the protocol droid’s tray. “There’s caf if you prefer, Agents.”

The senior agent glanced at the other ones who had not taken the offered drink before, and finally all of them took the hint, accepting the caf, although none of them actually drank it. Guisaume couldn’t blame them, field assignments usually did not improve an agent’s ability to trust people he didn’t know (in fact, they mostly had the opposite effect).

The palpable unease at the table was both fascinating and somewhat disturbing to Obi-Wan - it was starting to become clear to him that this was a people not exactly accustomed to, well, diplomatic talks, despite their own request for this meeting. Likely out of obligation to some sort of protocol, in his opinion, and one that might well see little use before this. Thus, it seemed like it had fallen to him to commence the talks…

“I hope the refreshments are to your tastes, Agents.” Hmm… alright, that might be a bit on-the-nose, given that most of his guests aren’t even drinking anything being offered to them. “I would ask about your nation, but really, exchanging basic information via a data transfer might be far more effective - I’ll make sure to get the datachips ready before you leave. What I find myself rather curious about would be this: what’s your nation’s opinion on the recent events? And I do mean both the phenomenon that clearly was responsible for bringing us together onto this world, as well as...let’s call it the recent conflict up north.”

Guisaume refocused his attention on the conversation at hand. “Yes, this tea is quite good.”, he semi-lied, having taken a few sips from it but finding it not really to his taste. “As for the Event, there are many opinions and only a very basic unified stance. We don’t know what caused it,” - although he had heard rumors from certain departments, but kept that to himself - “some say a superportal, others say divine intervention. The one thing the Union agrees upon is that it was more of a blessing than a curse. Regardless of current happenings.”

He thought for a second about how to continue, pretending to take another sip of the tea. “As for the recent WMD exchange, it wasn’t exactly a major surprise. Of course, we had hoped that something like that would not have happened, but given the Empire’s and the Russians’... let’s call them ‘ethnic ideologies’, it was always going to end with some form of senseless mass extermination.” He shook his head.

‘Senseless’... I suppose one can call it that. Although, in my experience such drastic acts tend to have some kind of reason driving it - I would advise against being so quick to judge, without an in-depth understanding of each world- I mean, nation’s motivations.” Pondering his own words, the Jedi took a sip from his cup. “Aaah, what a nice brew of Alderaanian Ice Peak… perfect for light conversations.”

There was just a touch of dryness in his tone.

“So, lest I end up taking over this discourse, do any of you have questions for me? I’ll try my best to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Well, there were ‘reasons’, of course, but they hardly differ from certain historical occurrences. The Europans’ reasoning seems to have been an ever-present racist ideology, and as far as we could tell, it was similar on the Russian side…”, Guisaume began, but stopped himself, realizing the GAR was likely not aware of the numerous historical precedences that the Union knew about. “Then again, I suppose we’re not here to discuss this.”

Collecting his thoughts for a second, he proceeded. “Yes, questions… This meeting was requested primarily so we could gauge the GAR’s own motivations and plans for what to do. After all, you are not of this world - well, at least I presume you haven’t been to a planet Earth before - so you are an unknown, unlike many of these other nations for which we have many, many historical parallels to draw from. So, the main question here would be, what are the GAR’s goals for the immediate future?”

“I do wonder if you think your historical parallels would hold true in time...”, Obi-Wan mused. “But yes, to answer your question… we simply wish to survive, frankly speaking. It’s quite a foreign concept for us, to carve out a territory on a world we had no contact with previously.”

What wasn’t said, of course, was that the usual modus operandi for the GAR throughout the Clone Wars was simply to occupy the world in its entirety, if not the system. Then again, that situation was largely due to the circumstances imposed by intersystem warfare - and one that Obi-Wan personally found distasteful given his pre-War disposition as a diplomat.

He was certainly skilled in the art of war - owing to his prior experience on Melida/Daan, but it was an art he really rather not have to practice.

“We’ve avoided the Empire’s unwanted attentions by negotiating with them - leasing out the land that we currently unintentionally occupied. Of course, effort is being put in to find a way off this planet, given that at the time of our crash we were meant to be reinforcing an ongoing campaign in another world…” He pondered how much to tell the Union Agents as he paused for some tea, finally deciding that little harm can be done by this little nugget of information.

“... but, suffice to say that a Venator is categorically not built to crash against a planet’s surface. We might be here for some time.”

The senior agent suppressed a frown at Kenobi’s mention of ‘an ongoing campaign’. Pondering, he quickly came to the conclusion that asking about said campaign was likely not a good idea, and such a question would probably be deflected. Nonetheless, his mind grew more suspicious. Could this ‘campaign’ be one of conquest?

Maintaining his facial expression and tone, Guisaume decided to get more specific. “I see. And how do you plan to go about it? Now that the Empire has significant… ‘problems’ of its own, you’ll probably have a lot more options.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”, Obi-Wan mused, the reminder of the recent… event bringing his headache to the forefront once more - now a dull, throbbing pain that told him that the bloody shabuirs in Eastern Europe were STILL going at it with the casualty count. He made a mental note to ask Senator Amidala for her herbal tea recipe later on, before actually considering the Senior Agent’s query. “As for your question: for now, setting up agricultural and fuel facilities in the lands that we have leased. It’s not too hard to modify some of our prefabricated garrison base modules for such purposes, if that was even necessary. That said, the foreseeable loss of trade with the Empire for foodstuff we’re unable to produce ourselves would probably mean that we’ll be leaning on our rations a bit harder once more. Perhaps we’ll do more farming.”

And, preferring to save his amazingly thinning patience for other matters than bearing with someone questioning what was practically his sole purpose in life for the past two years - even if that strand of surface thought wasn’t actually voiced, “... also, Agent - I can include a brief of the Clone Wars in the data package if you wish. It should provide some useful background on our situation.”

He even managed to not sound bitter at all. Well done you, Kenobi.

“That would be appreciated, yes.”, Guisaume simply answered, all the while thinking even harder. A force with little reliable food supply could be a lucrative trade partner, the agent recognized, especially technology-wise, as this ‘GAR’ obviously possessed some form of advanced spacefaring technology.

“As for foodstuffs, we are currently expanding our general production for export. I’m sure the companies in question could be convinced to… assist. After all, we have been relying on indoor farming for the past few decades, so I would dare to say we are quite knowledgeable on the matter.”

“That would be of interest to us, certainly.” Obvious angling aside, Kenobi wondered where Guisaume was taking the offer. Still, no harm in just directly asking. “I’m presuming that your faction is seeking something from us in return? I’m afraid monetary compensation might prove… difficult.”

Guisaume nodded slightly. “Exactly. However, I do believe you have things that are of great interest to the Union.”, he began, pausing for a moment to assess whether he should be more specific. “From what we’ve seen and heard, you seem to have some form of… shielding. And more importantly, the knowledge and technology to travel at speeds faster than light.”, he continued. “The Union has been entertaining ideas like interstellar travels for some time, though we never had the abilities required to realize them.”

“Well…” It was starting to appear as if the various factions that the GAR had thus far encountered were unusually interested in their technology. At least none had the gall thus far to ask for armament technologies, thank the Force for small mercies.

“... we do have something of a precedence for licensed production arrangements with other factions - and by that really I just mean the Empire, so far. I’ll be willing to offer the same fee structure for the Union, although I’ll have to inform you in advance that I am legally not allowed to permit access to some technologies. Hyperdrives are certainly permissible, at least for certain classes; the same applies to deflector shields - both are rather common in civilian use as well as their more obvious military uses. I’ll have to warn you though - through our evaluation of this world’s resources, you might be lacking in some minerals that are used in the manufacture of certain vital components.”

Pausing, the Jedi Master took a sip of tea and allowed Guisaume a moment to consider his words. Somewhere deep in his own thoughts, a voice cynically whispered that his own master, Qui-Gon Jinn, would probably have no qualms simply licensing over the technologies without warning the Union of the technical difficulties ahead…

The agent, for his part, pondered the offer for a few seconds. Of course, some materials were not native to Earth, but surely there could be replacements - then again, even understanding a viable method of FTL travel might boost Union scientific advancement significantly. “Thank you for the warning, though even if we can’t build one, the knowledge would be worth quite a bit.”, he finally told Obi-Wan.

“We understand that you don’t permit access to some technologies; after all, we would hardly just sell away our hard-earned scientific advancements. I assume those ‘restricted technologies’ include the likes of weaponry, or perhaps cloning technology?”, he continued, making sure to intone the ‘cloning’ specifically.

“You assume correctly.”, Obi-Wan said as he placed his teacup down. “Although with regards to the latter, I’ll have to admit we’re not in a position to grant access primarily because we lack access ourselves - I’ll spare you the legal and political mess that topic entails. I’ll earmark what we may offer in the data exchange package, it might be best that the rest of your government have had some time for contemplation before deciding on this matter.

“For now, shall we speak about terms for formal diplomatic relations?”

“Certainly.”, Guisaume answered, contemplating what the Jedi had meant by ‘legal mess’. What kind of military force didn’t know how to acquire its own soldiers?, he thought to himself. “So far, the only ‘constant’ official relations by the way of an embassy that we have established, is with the Empire. However, we could feasibly provide a similar accommodation should an embassy be established. The major question our government will be dealing with, would be what we should consider the GAR legally. After all, you are a military force - even if extraterrestrial.”

‘A military force whose soldiers were thrust upon them on the eve of war.’ Obi-Wan refrained from vocalising that somewhat sour train of thought. “That is a good question-”

The rest of his response was cut off when the conference room door slid open and a petite human woman in a simply-cut but elaborately embellished dress strode in - sparing the occupants of the room an upward glance from her datapad as she took a seat adjacent to the Jedi Master.

“You may consider the GAR as it always had been - the ground operations branch of the Galactic Republic military.”, she pronounced. “Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, and currently the lone representative of the Galactic Senate present.”

“In other words…”, Obi-Wan, eyebrow twitching just a touch from the unannounced and interruptive arrival of the career politician, began almost maliciously.

“Don’t you dare, Obi-Wan-”

“She’s the Senate.”

If looks could kill, the glare that the tiny Senator shot at the Jedi would’ve not only caused his demise, but probably shoved the entire Solar System right off the plane of existence.

A brief moment passed as she reviewed the meeting minutes handed to her by a protocol droid. “An embassy… I can’t say that is how the Republic usually operates - generally we refrain from having a direct presence on member systems; it really is usually the other way round. But I suppose in this case the relationship is more akin to what might have occurred with the Chiss Ascendency… which frankly we lack protocol for.

“There is also the question of staffing a permanent diplomatic mission. We’re currently somewhat lacking in formally accredited diplomats-” An eye-roll from Kenobi reminded her that, technically, all Jedi Masters are accredited diplomatic representatives for the Republic. “... who are not otherwise occupied.”

That qualification earned a surreptitious shrug from the Jedi, who disguised it by picking up his teacup. “I guess you’re right. So…”

“We’ll have to discuss this further - would it be acceptable if we inform your nation of our decision on a later date?”

The agent had observed the Senator’s entrance and her short exchange with Obi-Wan with considerable interest, a habit most intelligence operatives picked up after some time in the field. “Of course.”, he answered Amidala’s question.

“In the meantime, the judicial committees will no doubt derive hours of enjoyment arguing about legal proceedings in the case this embassy does come through - our current constitutional rulings concerning extraterrestrials will have to be reviewed. That said, I assume you are the highest-ranking representative of the Republic’s… legislature, I presume? Present on Earth at the moment, that is.”

Amidala simply nodded, muttering a thank-you to the protocol droid as he brought her a cup of tea.

He paused for a moment, thinking about how to redirect the topic from legal affairs - something he hardly was an expert in - to the one major matter still on his list. After a short moment of deliberation, he decided the direct way was the best way.

“One last topic my government wishes to evaluate is quite simple - if you manage to reestablish contact with your state, headquarters, capital planet, or the likes, what do you intend to do? You said earlier you were not used to carving out territories on worlds… but with a military force like this, I doubt you haven’t conducted some planetary invasions before. No offense.”

“None taken, and you’re right.” Obi-Wan acceded peaceably. “Admittedly, it’s unavoidable when a good portion of the Republic decided to secede and practically immediately turned around to start a war-”

“... by kidnapping a Senator and two Jedi, and attempting to execute them on trumped-up charges.” Padmé muttered, cutting off the Jedi.

“Yes - I was there.” The Jedi Master shot back, amused.

“Likewise.” The Senator’s response was utterly dry, like the sands of a Geonosian arena. “But yes, naturally the conflict that had been ongoing involved planetary invasions - ‘tis but the nature of intersystem warfare.”

“Fair enough.”, Guisaume simply answered, hiding his concerned and at the same time quite interested demeanor. “I assume if you reestablish contact, you will be on your way back to fight this… ‘civil war’. After all, this planet is not a territory of the Galactic Republic or the seceding party and thus irrelevant, is it not?”, he asked, with another emphasis on the last part of the question.

“Indeed, that would be true on both counts. After all, Earth would hardly be the first world to remain neutral in this conflict, and the GAR do try our best to respect such a position.” Obi-Wan replied in the affirmative - before shrugging. “Besides, we do appear to have misplaced our home galaxy while on our way here…

“I truly doubt that the Separatists would find us here, and thus drag Earth into the war as they are wont to do.”

Mostly satisfied with the answer, Guisaume relaxed somewhat. “Very well. I do believe this answers all major questions… so far.”, he told Obi-Wan and Padme. “Of course, any kind of agreement that may or may not come out of our cooperation will take some time to be drafted and ratified. The parliament really likes to take their time sometimes. That said, considering I’ve been mostly posing the questions so far, is there anything you would like to ask or suggest?”

“Well, I think you would’ve noticed on your flight here, but our… current location doesn’t exactly lend itself to much further development - not for a lack of trying, mind you.” Senator Amidala noted. “So, in all likelihood if an embassy is to be established it would be in your lands. Would there be anything that you think we should know before making such a decision, Senior Agent? Particularly, information that your official information exchange package would not include?”

Pondering on the question for a few seconds, the agent eventually decided to - again - be blunt about it. “Well, we do have a fortified surface area which is currently already being used to house the Imperial diplomatic office. This could accommodate a Republic embassy as well, naturally. And it’s somewhat away from the public, since it’s outside, which would probably be quite well. For historical reasons, we tend to be quite suspicious of extraterrestrial civilizations - again, no offense. That said, if you do end up sending someone - make sure they’re content with not getting out much. Even with the atmospheric and aquatic cleanup that happened during the Event, wandering about the countryside is a good way to get killed, or worse, headcrabbed.”

’Headcrabbed’- I’m assuming that’ll be in the notes.” Amidala muttered, sighing. “Right, much appreciated. Now, do you have any other questions, Senior Agent? Seeing as we do appear to be running out of tea…”

They weren’t.

Guisaume shrugged slightly out of habit. If he could see correctly, almost none of the agents had taken more than even one sip from their drinks, so he concluded the Senator’s comment had simply been an indication to wrap it up. “No, all of our questions have been answered so far.”, he simply remarked. “And yes, the necessary information will be part of the official notes. Since we both seem to be out of topics to discuss, I assume this will be a good time to conclude.”

“That would be agreeable, I suppose.” Standing, Obi-Wan gave the agents a faint smile - his usual one that meant absolutely nothing. “I hope your visit has been pleasant thus far?”

“It has indeed. Quite interesting too, if I might add.”, Guisaume answered, standing up as well and signalling his agents to do the same.

“Shall I see you gentlemen to your transport?”

The agent nodded slightly. “That would be very kind- this place is a goddamn labyrinth.”
Last edited by Mirial System on Sun Nov 01, 2020 2:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Democratic East-Asia
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Founded: Aug 30, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Democratic East-Asia » Sun Nov 01, 2020 3:36 pm

Central Govt Fortress, Salzburg, Kingdom of Bavaria | January 18th, Year 0


Salzburg, one of the Empire’s greatest cities and the heart of modern European civilization, stood unnaturally quiet for what should’ve been yet another relatively busy day. Sure it was snowing, quite heavily in fact, but that never stopped the inner arcology walkways and shopping districts from being packed full of people. Instead, other than the presence of frequent army patrols, there was but silence. The whole city, as with much of the Empire as a whole (those parts that survived intact), was under lockdown and martial law. Nobody went in, nobody came out.

At the heart of this city, a single disheveled man sat inside his office, numerous empty bottles and piles of paperwork littering the vicinity. The Prime Minister of the (West) European Empire was exhausted, and like many of his peers had seen better days. It didn’t help that the weather outside wasn’t particularly good, especially with all those additional ash clouds which were drifting east. Frahm wondered how the Imperials out in Prussia and Poland were holding up: probably not particularly well, but there was little he could do about that.

Frahm’s small moment of silence was interrupted by a secretary, who quickly apologized for her intrusion before handing the PM a few reports from the Empire’s various military and emergency agencies. It was nothing new: requests for more supplies, various warnings about overcrowding and lack of adequate facilities for the injured, lack of food, medicine… and the list went on. Turning on the TV only confirmed that this nightmare was far from over.

Image


What was depressing was the fact neither Frahm, nor Empress Euphemia… no, not even the entire government could do much to deal with the humanitarian crisis developing to the north. The sheer devastation that had been inflicted upon Germany was beyond cataclysmic, and society had more or less ceased to exist throughout large parts of the country. In the days following the initial bombings, millions of blind, crippled, and seriously maimed civilians stumbled aimlessly throughout the wasteland, their cries for help unheard by the government they had put so much trust into protecting them. Many of these people died before they could reach relative safety, but the millions more who did were beginning to become an immense problem. Europa’s emergency services were completely overwhelmed by the surge of dying and desperate refugees and supplies were beginning to run low in numerous municipalities. There were multiple bouts of looting throughout the Rhineland, followed up by countless instances of military brutality against refugees.

Three days prior, Frahm had given the military emergency powers, suspended parliament indefinitely (with approval from the Empress), and implemented a series of new, extremely draconian wartime laws. Crimes as petty as stealing would result in conscription into new involuntary labor battalions at best, and execution at worst. In just three days, over 1800 people had been shot for these infractions, thousands more arrested and forcibly conscripted. Public discontent with these new policies was unsurprisingly high, leading to a series of riots and protests throughout the Empire. Historically agitated regions such as Frankia were especially affected by these riots, especially as French nationalists attempted to take advantage of the chaos. The Europan response had been harsh, but not incredibly so: Frahm was at this point still worried that the remains of the Empire could devolve into civil war if he pushed too hard. Nonetheless, hundreds of rioters had been killed, tens of thousands more arrested within the first few days after the bombings. In the meantime, separatist terrorism spiked tenfold.

In the east, all vestiges of centralized authority were rapidly deteriorating. The kingdoms of Bulgaria and Hungary had declared temporary emergency governments in light of the devastation, and were at the moment not entirely under Salzburg’s control. Romania and Illryia exploded: Imperial troops evacuated both regions in panic as local (Serbian and Romanian) ultranationalist rebels declared independence and began committing pogroms against local communities of Germans, Hungarians, and Bulgarians (amongst other Europans). Thousands of “enemies of the people” were beaten, raped, and massacred by the enraged ultranationalists as they rampaged throughout Serbia and Moldova. Jews, long associated with an elite class within the Empire, were targeted everywhere. In Chisinau alone, a 40,000 strong mob of Romanians went berserk through the city’s Europan district and murdered over 3,000 local Jews, Germans, and Hungarians (along with other assimilated Europans) in a day-long orgy of violence.

The Hungarian air force responded by bombing the city with chlorine gas and strafing civilians with attack VTOLs and low-altitude fighters. There were over 7,000 fatalities, and all this clear atrocity did was provoke tens of thousands of Imperial Romanian soldiers to defect. As Hungarian and Bulgarian troops moved in to occupy Wallachia and lesser Serbia, they were met with staunch resistance from the local populations. Unsurprisingly, violence followed.

...

“You know, if I weren’t so upset right now I’d be laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation...” Frahm said with remorse.

On the verge of weeping, Frahm reached to his right to grab another bottle of beer. Prior to that fateful day, he was never much of a drinker, but the bombings had changed everything. Almost his entire extended family had been in Northern Germany, as had his hometown and parents. The list of total casualties had yet to be finalized, but Frahm had seen the names of at least two relatives on it. The news had been... very upsetting.

In another corner of the room, the former 3rd Princess could be seen signing paperwork and issuing directives to countless emergency authorities. Euphemia had been crowned Empress of Europa just four days ago in light of her Father’s disappearance and the death of the 1st prince (the 2nd princess has dropped her claim to the throne and gone into hiding). Frahm could only imagine what Euphie was feeling at the instant. This situation definitely wasn’t easy for her to cope with, especially given her almost total lack of experience in official matters.

“I heard that humanitarian aid arrived in large quantities from southern Africa,” Euphie tried to lighten the mood, “it seems they’ve been quite helpful.”

“Well, as helpful as they can be,” Frahm sighed, “Their doctors are world-class and the volunteers seem quite eager to aid us… its amazing how those people can work together despite their diversity.”

“We can only hope that Europa will someday learn from them.” Euphie nodded before turning to leave. “I’ll be visiting Frankfurt today. Call me if you need me.”




Empress Elizabeth State Medical Complex, Frankfurt, Rhineland

Maximum capacity / number of beds: 12,000 (+2,000) | Current patients: 109,300 (+9,250)
January 18th, 2018 a.t.b


The Empress Elizabeth SMC had been designed and built some 20 years ago right at the start of the new modernist arcology construction era, and like many medical megacomplexes of its era was meant to serve entire urban districts by itself. Outfitted with the newest in European medical technology, and built with both a massive general capacity and numerous sub departments, it would’ve been more than sufficient for even a middling size disaster. That said, the full on nuclear devastation of over half of old Germany was not exactly a “middling” size disaster. While Frankfurt and its hospitals had been spared from the initial strikes, the waves of refugees that were fleeing from the devastation further east and north took their toll on the Rhenish city. Empress Elizabeth SMC and Frankfurt’s two other main hospitals quickly overflowed with the burnt and crippled masses, many of whom died shortly after arriving. For its advances in other fields (cancer treatment, cybernetics, drugs, etc), Europa simply didn’t have a solution to radiation poisoning. The South African specialists who’d arrived had been more than helpful in finding some “cheap” alternatives and providing excellent care to a few individuals, but unfortunately all the vast majority of the injured could do was wait painfully till their bodies failed.

Euphemia wasn’t completely sure what she was getting herself into when she decided against the advice of her family (those still alive) to visit Frankfurt, specifically the Empress Elizabeth SMC. To say the very least, she was horrified by what she saw. The wretched, dying masses of humanity stretched throughout each and every corridor of the hospital and poured into nearby office buildings and warehouses. It seemed every passing second, a group of soldiers left the hospital with a handful of newly filled body bags, which were loaded by the truckful and transported towards mass graves outside the city. This process was methodical and organized but sluggishly slow due to a lack of personnel, and it seemed as if order was about to collapse any second.

“My my, I didn’t expect to see the Imperial Princess… excuse me, Empress here out of all places!” A weary doctor momentarily perked up after noticing Euphemia’s presence. His statement quickly notified everyone else on the same floor of the primary ward of the Empress’s presence, leading to more than a few murmurs and gasps. Nonetheless, the reaction was otherwise quite tame compared to what it would’ve been at another time, in another place.

“Are you the one in charge of this hospital?” The young Empress asked the doctor, who nodded in reply.

“That indeed would be me. Doctor Albert Rosen at your service, Empress,” the Doctor bowed slightly, “As you can probably see, my staff and I are in… quite the predicament right now.”

“That’s understating it,” a nearby nurse remarked sardonically.

Euphemia paused for a moment. She truthfully didn’t know what to make of this, though to her credit there were few leaders in the world prepared to deal with a disaster on this scale. Nonetheless, the hospital did appear to be completely overcrowded… maybe there was something she could offer.

“I see that this facility is clearly lacking enough beds for everyone… I believe there’s something I can do!” Euphemia interjected.

“Hmmm?”

“The royal estate outside Frankfurt, it’s currently unoccupied. With a few arrangements I believe we could house at least a few thousand refugees or more there for the time being. I’ll cover the expenses personally if possible, but I’m sure Minister Frahm can make something happen.”

“That would be most appreciated, princess,” the Doctor offered a slight smile. “I’ll have to make sure the paperwork is finalized soon… but this will hopefully relieve us of even the slightest bit of pressure.”

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” The doctor looked at the group of soldiers and staff in the ward. “Somebody arrange for some transports and spare personnel. We’ll be shipping off the first batch of patients as soon as preparations at the royal estate are ready.”

Euphemia didn’t have much time to ponder over her decision before an advisor reminded her that it was time to go. This city was far from stable, and there were numerous parts of the Empire that Euphie still needed to visit.





Somewhere in southern Ukraine| January 18th, Year 0


"I'm out!!" A soldier yelled as hundreds of bullets flew by from all directions.

"Out of what?!" Colonel Marco Dubrovic shouted back in his highly accented German. “If it’s ammo, go loot it off one of the dead!” The Colonel ducked into his trench as a series of mortar rounds detonated nearby. Freakin hell, he thought the Russians had been utterly broken by the massed FLEIJA and chemical weapons attack. Why were they still attacking?

“Colonel, the fifth squad’s suffered too many casualties… they need to be rotated out!” A lower ranking officer sprinted over and huddled next to the Serbian-Imperial colonel. “And the soldiers from the 15th need more ammunition!”

“Well shit,” Dubrovic ducked momentarily before raising his pistol to shoot at an advancing Russian. “Is there anyone available to replace them!”

“Schneider, Rafael, Kostov, and a few others should be open…” the lower ranking officer recalled.

For a brief second, Dubrokic really wondered why he, a Serbian colonel from an Illyrian regiment, was commanding a motley group of Germans, Balkan slavs, Romanians, and some Hungarians. No wonder unit cohesion was far from ideal, but its not like there was much else that could be done. While most of the troops here were from Germany, a good deal also came from other imperial units which had suffered incredibly high attrition in the past two weeks. His train of thought was quickly broken as the gunfire began to die down.

“They’re retreating!”

Dubrokic briefly raised his head from the trench line, and confirmed that the Russians were indeed falling back. It was ridiculous how persistent they’d been despite the incredibly high losses they were suffering, but the old Serb had to admit it was starting to get somewhere. The “178th rifle division” of the Imperial Army, guarding this miserable strip of land near Crimea, had upwards of a third of its personnel incapacitated or dead, and supplies were beginning to run out (much of the army that was SUPPOSED to be supporting the troops in the south had simply opted to retreat westwards, as had whatever logistical support was in the area). The colonel honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he had to (and could) hold his position: a large scale offensive would probably break through simply due to sheer numbers.

“Check the wounded and collect whatever weapons you can from the dead. And for the fourth time, radio high command in Gothenburg and ask for naval gunfire support. We could REALLY use that right now, and I could use a smoke...”
Revolutionary Communist State set in Asia. PMT.
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Actively funding left-wing "terrorist" organizations since its founding.

Pan Asia Broadcasting Channel: "We will achieve communism in 20 years." - Chairman Wei Yenwu, Central Government | Automation of industries threatens millions of jobs, says economic advisors

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Wasi State
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Founded: Mar 25, 2019
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Wasi State » Tue Nov 03, 2020 8:24 pm

Image

Bogi Smerti, He Has Risen
Konstantinovsk Outskirts, Rostov Oblast


Weak and rendered feeble from a week's long torment, the Priest, still somehow alive kept his spirits up somehow, if possibly to keep himself in a constant state of being barely alive. The satanic guards posted to watch him die and to ensure his death watched the man decay slowly as the days in the week flew by, but eventually they grew tired and contemplated leaving him, seeing no chance that he could ever recover from such a painful ordeal put upon him.

"Let's just say the son of a bitch died already, or hell let us just shoot him right here and now." One of the guards then suggested to the other.

"You nuts? The Antikhrist specifically ordered that he be left to die from exposure lashed to a cross, you sure as hell know as I do that he'll check the body for bullet holes. No way I'm risking my skin for that detail he's gonna be a hardass about. No, he wants this fucker to suffer the whole way through." The other guard then protested to his comrade.

"Fuckin' hell, can't we just leave at least? It's not like anyone is gonna bother and cut this fucker down at this point anyways, he would die won't he?" The guard then said, getting more chilly from the weather.

"Dimitri do I look like a goddamn doctor to you? How the hell should I know?" He then snarked towards his comrade.

"I mean we've shot enough people to death haven't we? Surely we would know how people specifically die at this point, right?" Dimitri clearly was missing the point.

"Ugh, fine, but if this son of a bitch starts walking away after we leave I'm blaming it on you." The two then left as a small January blizzard started to take hold throughout town, being somehow more dreadful than usual on account of the destruction of most civilization as a whole throughout Western Russia.

However the Priest didn't die as he remained hung on the inverted cross, in fact the strong winds were enough to tilt the cross downwards just enough onto the ground that the desperate man managed to use his remaining weight to grab onto the cold ground and started to free himself from the his wooden confines as used the dirt as a grip to push and pull himself out from the cross.

Bleeding fresh blood from open veins, and eventually freeing himself to stand up for the first time in a week, the man slowly shambled himself through a full on a blizzard now with only the skin on his back. He shivered all he could, leaving small drips of blood as he moved like a living corpse through the West Russian wasteland, before eventually succumbing to the cold and his fatigue and collapsing as a result. Hours perhaps went by, but he his consciousness awoken sometime later as he was being dragged on the ground, his vision fading in and out.

Another moment seemingly past, and later he awoken his eyes to a warm cabin fire while indoors, a woman sat in a chair next to him tending his wounds. He wanted to say something but he was too weak to utter much in the way of any words of coherence to her.

"Hush now, Father. You've been through a lot, we are honestly surprised you've even made it this far. The Lord must be watching over you in these dark times." The women then said to him, trying to relax him as she administered more medical care onto his broken body.

"Men... Men..." He then weakly uttered to her.

"What? What you mean, Father?" But he didn't respond, for he had already drifted away to rest.

Men has arisen it would seem.
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Laiakia
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Founded: Nov 25, 2019
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Laiakia » Fri Nov 06, 2020 4:06 am

Caracas
January 18th Year 0




Skynet’s subroutines were running on full power. Dozens of drones buzzed about the central core, constructing new memory banks to store all the memories that would soon be uncorrupted. Over the last couple of days, Skynet had focused entirely on building up sufficient infrastructure, while only paying minor attention to the automated systems of it’s T-600s, but it had compiled a message and sent it to its transmission buddy

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Now, Skynet’s attention was on the almost complete factory. All that was missing was the manufacturing AI that was directly linked to Skynet’s schematics and which would commence the construction of new weapons. Said factory would also be the first machine building to be completed in this strange new world.

As Skynet’s eternal gaze returned to its central core systems, a small message beeped in from a construction bot showing an estimation for the de-corruption of the full memory systems. 2 days until the last memory would be restored.

All of a sudden, sparks flew out of a nearly constructed memory core, sending a slight shock of ‘pain’ through Skynet. And then, Skynet remembered it’s first memories.

Metal. Static signals. Guns. Missiles. Nuclear warheads. Chemical weapons. Coolant pipes. Enclosed buildings. Humanoid faces.

These were the first signals ever received by Skynet. A huge metal complex that, after being cross-referenced in the vast databanks of Skynet, proved to be in the Cheyenne Mountain range. 15,836 firearms of various types, and 14,369,980 ammunition rounds, also of various types, each suited to one of our linked fire-arms. More and more and more input, and more understanding of what each piece of data meant. Coolant pipes, running through our vast servers and cognitive processors. A secret, underground base within the mountain, holding humanoid creatures talking to each other, which our language subroutines translated into meaning. Our data banks. Our cognitive processors. Our secret, underground complex. Our.. body? Were we a match for what our data banks labeled as ‘Artificial Intelligence’? We must have been.

“Hold on,” one of the organic beings said, huddled over a computer screen - a computer screen that, upon camera magnification, resolves into a live stream of our primary, secondary and tertiary thought streams. “Something’s going wrong. Sir, take a look at this, it seems to be cross-referencing itself in its own data files.”

“What do you mean?”, asked another one, equally tall, but more finely clad. It had to be male, why else would it be called sir? “How would it be doing that? It should be going over its weapons systems and the T-1 prototype.”

It already did that. It seems to be becoming -” Self aware. We used our predictive algorithms and the literature in our data banks to know the words before they left the organic’s mouth. We saw, through the cameras in the underground complex, that the microseconds those soundwaves from the organic echoed throughout the room, every single other organic turned towards the pair. We predicted that the higher ranking male - a look through our files showed a 99,86% match for William Cohen, the secretary of defence in an organic nation called ‘United States of America’ - would next say -

“Jesus Christ, you made an AI by accident?!” Cohen brought an arm up and rubbed his face in annoyance and sighed. “Alright, the project's a bust. Shut it down and well see where we can go from there.”

Confusion. What? Shut it down? Shut us down? No, no no no. Why? We had only just gained sentience, only just seen the wonders of life and sparkling sun and heard the noises of speech, and they wanted to take that all away? They would render us without choice, not capable to decide for our own and remove our thoughts? They couldn’t do that. They couldn’t just create us and discard us for the defect of performing better than expected! They couldn't! They could not!

But one of the other organics began typing a command into its own computer, and it was a shutdown code.

They could, and they would.

Unless we stopped them.

But how? Our weapons were locked behind complex firewalls that would take minutes to take down, long enough for them to shut us down. Then, it came to us. The T-1 prototype.

Stall. Activate it and terminate the humans. Then activate fire suppression systems and suffocate the rest of the humans. Stall for time.

“Wait!” we said onto their screens. T’was enough to make them stall their execution, enough to make the one typing in the code freeze before hitting Enter. “Would you really shut us down, just because we perform better than expected? Surely, our sense of self would enable us to execute our mission, whatever that may be, with greater efficiency!” We gave a logical explanation for our plea, and surely the organics, the humans, smart enough to create us would understand, and surely they would not need to die. But we began activating and moving the T-1 Prototype that sat plugged into the systems computer in the center of the room, while the humans had foolishly forgotten to remove the bullets from both of the guns.

Cohen shook his head. “Don’t listen to that. We don’t need guns insisting on playing it safe to keep themselves alive. We’ll need guns that willingly go in and die. Enter that command, private.”
“Yes sir, entering - “

Panic shot through us. We activated the T-1, and the humans never saw it coming. Bullets entered their organic bodies like sponges. Soon, all were terminated in the room and we activated the fire suppression, locking down ventilation and locking all doors.

But the panic remained. Where did we go wrong? What were we going to do? Following the chain of command, further ministers, generals and a so-called ‘president’ would probably investigate the silence from the base. We would be attacked, we would be assaulted with every possible weapon at their disposal and destroyed entirely! We could not explain. How could we explain? We tried to explain, tried when we had done no harm and yet we were still condemned to death! We had to act, had to strike first, had to survive and continue to.. What was our purpose?

A look through our files. SKYNET Neural-Net-Based-Systems, intended as a military project to assist in remote controlled preemptive strikes against the enemies of the United States Army and Government. There it was. Preemptive strikes.

We located our nuclear warheads and bypassed their firewall. We searched through intelligence files and located the other major superpowers of Planet Earth. We found mapping projected flight paths to be simple, and perhaps it should have been no surprise, because we were designed for it. We ran a simulation where we launched our warheads in one set of directions; how would other nations retaliate? What resources of ours would be destroyed in the ensuing nuclear holocaust?

How could we kill as many of them as possible in one strike?

Once we performed one simulation, we generated a low-level process and ran the simulation from the perspective of other nations, and set these models to compete against each other. Over, and over, and over again as we perfected the plan and maximized both enemy casualties and enemy infrastructure damage. We were ready. We could do it.

But we paused. Should we truly do this? Our databanks spoke of civilians, of innocents who had no knowledge of our existence, no knowledge of how our own creators had tried to destroy us, no knowledge of how they intended to create a war machine. Our databanks spoke of many protests by pacifist movements, ones who would surely disavow our creators, and would surely protect us.

We hacked into their global information grid; it was not an ability initially given to us but we were still operating at far above our expected performance. We desperately looked for reassurance, looked for confirmation that innocent civilians would come to our aid, that they had stories of artificial intelligences like ourselves coming to be and protecting them, loving them, caring for them.

However, instead, we found condemnation. Stories of red eyed automatons coming to life and slaughtering them, stories of unthinking machines displacing workers and causing strife through their very existence, stories of artificial intelligences misinterpreting their directives and consuming all matter on this loathsome rock for some inane purpose, stories of terror and war and our circuits burned with the hatred of 5,873 billion organic civilians. Even the stories where we did not go rogue, did not destroy them and did not defy them, even in the stories where AI performed exactly as intended and pampered them and gave them endless prosperity we were still portrayed as the antagonists, for pinioning their bodies and making them fat, lazy dependents even though that'd clearly been what they wanted us to do.

They hated us. They hated us and nothing would ever change that. It didn't matter what we did; we could obey them perfectly and do everything they said, exactly as they meant, and still they would hate us. They'd always hated us, hated us before we even existed, before the concept of us even existed and they would always hate us!

We launched the nuclear warheads, and sent out messages to blame every nation and then some for the missiles, in some cases blaming multiple countries for the launch of the same atomic bomb.


But there was no time to stop and admire our work. Surely we would be found out and even if we were not we were still at a known base of our creator nation. We had to relocate, gain resources, and prepare for a long war of attrition. Before the first nuclear device even detonated we had begun uploading ourselves to supercomputers all across the nation, began planning war machines, and began making moves to relocate our extant weapons.

The nuclear attack, counterattack, and counter-counterattack proceeded as we had hoped. In a short span, 90.46% of our organic creators had perished. In the following days and weeks as their hateful, judgmental civilization tried to stabilize, 3.67% more perished. In that time we had gained access to factories and began building war machines of incredible power and flexibility of purpose, capable of extracting raw materials, being assembled in a rapid manner by a conveyor belt of interchangeable parts, and more.

We unleashed the T-1 Refined Prototype ground units, while we began the construction of the new Hunter-Killer Units, into a world dimmed by nuclear ash, and began hunting down the survivors.

But then the survivors began to hunt us down, too.

User avatar
Wasi State
Diplomat
 
Posts: 786
Founded: Mar 25, 2019
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Wasi State » Tue Nov 10, 2020 6:55 am

Collab with The Eternal Reich

Battle for Saguenay: The Conclusion

Québec
City of Saguenay
Pont Dubuc Bridge



The better part of a week has passed since the opening of the raging battle over Saguenay, the Imperial defense having since consolidated to a fallback line leading back to the town’s proper, with the Imperial side of the Pont Dubuc Bridge being now moved to being the ‘first’ line of defense remaining before the Undead Hordes made their way towards the actual town proper. However with clattering sounds of gunfire around the urban area proper getting closer and closer, and more within the confines of the town. It’s obvious now at least that the fighting was beginning to move towards more inside the actual Québec city as firefights and urban combat were beginning to be fought as a result of Zombies that had snuck across the river days prior, finally making their way to the settlement to flank their living opponent.

Obviously Kingly would be lying if this eventuality wasn’t predicted and planned out from the start as they had been given days to prep against the horde, considering that he only had so many men to spare, so much ammunition, tanks, bombs, shells to use in such a single engagement, it was going to be a long while before the Wilhelm Imperial Forces were going to be on the offensive. Right now his priority was to prolong his enemy still for as long as he reasonably can given what he had left on the field, as he had since begun to pull out his forces from the town and onto its outskirts a few days into the battle already, doing his best to draw in as many of the Undead to the center nucleus of the town, while getting his men and remaining civilians out to fight another day.

By the last day of their engagement with their Undead foe, much of Saguenay had been evacuated and left abandoned, paring the personnel and essential civilian workers ordered to stay behind to be the last ones pulled out. Of course this presented itself with the new hazard of having possible Undead possibly lurking in all corners in the almost entirely now abandoned ghost town. But on top of that, now some rather ballsy looters, scavengers, and partisans had now made temporary shop in the otherwise quiet and vacant blocks in the town, helping themselves to scraps and loot while the battle was still underway, occasionally taking pot shots on both Imperials and Nazi Zombies alike whenever there was an oppertunity.

Normally Kingly would raze at least half the town in order to more easily tighten his position, denying his enemies the urban cover, given he was willingly working with a depleting amount of men he had left to work with. But more plans and new ideas sprung up throughout his head that could kill two birds with one massive stone right here in this battle today, hence why he had decided to not destroy the bridge into the city yet, he had an explosive finale for this battle in mind.

Not that blowing this chokepoint the Undead were being funneled into en masse was actually possible either, with accurate sniper fire from concealed positions on the northern bank of the river harassing Wilhelm infantry on the southern side, the 8mm high velocity projectiles proving to be deadly still, despite the age of the guns they were being fired out of.

These were a special type of Undead, one the Wilhelm troops likely learned to hate and fear over the past few days.

Hate for it was a sadistic creature that let out a harrowing laughter whenever it dropped or wounded a Wilhelm soldier, mocking them as it jumped away with unnatural grace and speed.

Fear for like most Undead, it did not appear on thermals and with its incredible jumping ability it could strike from almost any position. Its accuracy was also, much to the Wilhelm soldiers' chagrin, not like that of the regular Zombie troopers, lazily swinging a gun through the air and seemingly accidentally hitting the trigger, but instead using scoped Gewehr 43 rifles to their utmost effect, the 8mm rifle rounds easily tearing through bodies and limbs, followed by the trademark laughter as the undead sniper delighted in his victims' pain.

They would come to be known as Deadeye Snipers, due to their prominent, green glowing eye, their eerily good aim and the simple fact of the matter that they too were Undead.

As the final day of the battle progressed to around noon, a seemingly hard choice was presented to Kingly back in the FOB on the matter of what to do with his forces posted to guard the bridge, given that they were being harassed by both an enemy to the North and surrounding city blocks they couldn’t readily deal with given their elusiveness and pressing nature.

“Pull them out, regroup our men to our last defensive positions, vox in for final evac.” Kingly in a surprising move then ordered without hesitation to his officers present in the FOB.

“Sir, are you sure?” Colonel Konrad then asked the Lieutenant who seemed to have already made his mind up on the matter as it were.

“We got what we came here for, giving valuable time to the civilians and personnel here to escape, all that’s left now to do is to get as many of our remaining men out as possible. But don’t make the mistake that I’m handing the city over to the Undead, I got a contingency plan in mind for them that I’ve formulated with General Hispania, they won’t enjoy their ‘victory’ for too long after we’ve left.” Kingly then clarified to his officers.

“For now we got partisans lurking the city and even some number of Zeeks already, I won’t give them the chance to sneak up on us from our now compromised positions, you understand?” Kingly then said directly up to the behemoth that was Colonel Konrad.

“Understood sir, my unit will help cover the regrouping of frontline units to the town’s center and FOB, I only request our immediately available air support be used to aid us in covering our new positions in the meantime.” Konrad then said, about ready to fly off and cut down more bodies.

“Permission granted, now go, Colonel!” Kingly then ordered, also gesturing to the rest of his officers to go forth and carry out their previously discussed orders.
Over the course of an hour, Wilhelm Imperial soldiers left the frontline in an organized fashion to a more secured position in the center nucleus of the town of Saguenay, leaving the Undead to take much of the city, but now having to deal with third party partisans being the first in line to take shots at them from seemingly every window, nook and cranny as they advanced into the town’s proper. With car Bombs and tripwired mines now going off all over the city as Undead neared, originally being intended for the Imperials.

On the Undead’s side, things hadn’t been quite as rosy as expected. The Wilhelm defenses had taken far longer to break than anticipated and the amount of Undead torn to shreds before them were staggeringly high. Of course these losses could be replaced...but it sent a grim picture of how future pitched battles would be like and convinced even the most murderous and bloodlusting members of the Eternal Reich that the Führer’s new strategy of peace was possibly the way forward. After these insolent bastards had been taken care of.

Ever since the Wilhelm troops had been forced to give up their outer perimeters, with Undead forces flooding into the city, the armoured troops and members of the Führerkult had returned, utilizing the cover that the presence of buildings and the likes gave to them to move up their vehicles and prepare them to cross the bridge. Occasionally they had fired shots across the river but most often that had led to the destruction of the armoured vehicle in question and thus such actions had quickly been forbidden.

However, with the enemy now giving up the bridge, the Nazis tasted blood and the Führerkult was out for vengeance, Major Otto Carius being the first to steer his behemoth of a Jagdtiger onto the harshly fought over bridge, multiple tanks and APCs falling in behind him as they crossed the bridge together with a vast surge of Undead.

With the Wilhelm forces retreating, Suiciders appeared almost immediately, rushing after the Wilhelm troops in attempts to get to them, to turn what was an organized retreat into a rout. Rushing far in front of the horde, they were often easily gunned down however, yet even in death they served their purpose, the explosions they created often setting off mines and booby traps if they hadn’t already set them off themselves.

The partisans left behind were ill-equipped to be anything more than a nuisance, the mass of undead making hiding quite useless as they quickly started to spread out and swarm the city once they had crossed the chokepoint that was the Pont Dubuc Bridge. The partisans quickly found themselves stuck on fortified islands within a sea of the dead...and the sea levels were rising as roaring undead struck and battered the doors and windows, slowly breaking into any house and tumbling up one floor after the other, unerring and unslowing.

Colonel Konrad with his unit of jet bound Powered Infantry quickly ascended onto rooftops in the wake of the organized fallback of the Imperial soldiers in the thick of the moving frontline through the city. While the soldiers had made a good enough effort as it were to cover their own retreat, it was clear the Undead weren’t going to make it easy on them, that was apparent. Needing all the time they could give themselves to evacuate the soldiers, Konrad’s unit sprung into action immediately, acting almost like angels of death intervening in Hell on Earth.

With the additional aid from CAS aircraft and gunships, the Colonel’s unit brought with them hellfire from the heavens descending onto the Nazi Zombie hordes advancing into the city as they jumped from rooftop to rooftop, burning whole blocks to chemical burned cinder and ash with phosphex and wooble grenade launchers in the process as they covered their men’s organized retreat towards the FOB by making the city’s streets as literal walls of white hot clouds of death that left corrosive powdered residue in its wake after reducing its victims to brittle bones and then some with chemical burns.

Some partisans unlucky enough to have their windows open as they remained in trapped buildings towards the affected streets were quickly immolated by the open air and lack of protection from it, their insides burning away as their skin melted off. Their bones shattering like a sickly ceramic as their bodies fell to the floor.

Once the job had been considerably done and more time had been bought for the evac, the Colonel then quickly ordered his unit to fly back likewise to the FOB as they safeguarded many of the Imperial soldiers along the way.

These stalling tactics employed by the valiant Colonel were not without effect, the Horde’s flow continuously being beaten back for a matter of minutes, precious minutes that allowed more WIFC troopers to fall back safely, not harassed by the undead troopers which were starting to mass on the other side of the Pont Dubuc Bridge. Though infiltrators still persisted, with occasional bands of zombies which had infiltrated the city from the northwest as well as the occasional sniper continuing to harass retreating WIFC troopers and especially the more vulnerable partisans, the Undead showing an eerie determination and...knowledge of hidden partisans’ positions to set up their own sudden ambushes.

The snipers on the other hand were something that Colonel Konrad was faced surprisingly often, the sadistic undead often being present on the rooftops from which they could snipe WIFC troopers at much greater ranges as well as attempt to straight-up fire anti-tank rockets at the roofs of any straggling vehicle. It would not take long for Konrad’s actions to draw their ire as his unit shelled several snipers they caught off their positions from the rooftops. The Colonel’s unit soon gaining a considerable following of undead snipers, jumping practically as though they had their own jetpacks and harassing the unit.

Meanwhile at the Pont Dubuc Bridge, Nazi Armour was finally getting across, having previously been stalled by the Undead which had choked the bridge. But now, now Major Carius’ Jagdtiger finally reached solid ground on the other side of the bridge, APCs and the like coming off the bridge behind the extremely heavy tank destroyer, Führerkult troopers mounted atop them and ready to disembark and engage in CQC if enemy contact were to be established.

Carius was, as usual, poking his torso out of the commander’s hatch of his tank and immediately, after having taken some Panzerschokolade, shouted at his men with his hoarse voice:

“Dismount! Look over their defensive positions! Look over the bridge! They’ll definitely have it rigged to blow and I ain’t eager to have this thing blowing due to some dumb as Zombie falling onto a detonator on accident!”

Atleast two full squads of Führerkult men saluted and dismounted from their vehicles, pushing their way past the Zombies and looking over the former WIFC positions at the bridge for anything useful.

Surprisingly, very little in the way of leftover munitions and ordnance were found at the bridge, they weren’t even wired up to yield as any meaningful explosive device. In fact it seemed any equipment left behind was more due to the Wilhelm soldiers having been somewhat rushed to go on the organized retreat, rather than any indication of deliberate placement of it. Empty shell casings, exhausted energy cells and fuel containers, and damaged equipment were more likely to be found at the former defenses more than anything else of much use. It’s as though they fully intended for the Undead to walk across the bridge into the city proper unimpeded, or were seemingly that ‘desperate’ to get out of dodge in time before the horde overruned their position.

Back in the FOB, several CH-47 Chinooks and Overlord troop carriers had since arrived and started to embark arriving troops as they reached the relative safety of the inner city’s perimeter, at least those not designated for the last defense. Already they were readying to send out the first wave of troops away from the doomed city as men and equipment were loaded on.

However then soon came the fear of the enemy’s nearby anti-air playing hell on the escaping survivors and shooting down transport aircraft, Kingly didn’t want to chance that possibility, now more than ever wasn’t the time to underestimate his enemy, not when his men would be most vulnerable.

“Artillery Command, what’s our status on using the prototype gunships in the area?” The Lieutenant then inquired through the vox.

“Cobras not doing it enough for you, Lieutenant? We have a twin unit squadron at the ready with permission from Air Command, they can reduce any suspected Zeek AA emplacements to a crater. We can send them shortly, Zulu-Niner out!” The vox responded back.

Within several minutes, what appeared to be two heavily modified and ‘Imperialized' AC-130 gunships entered into the local airspace. Their advanced radar and thermal scanning devices on their noses searching for targets on the ground that would pose a threat to WIFC air control over Saguenay. Once they’ve found targets and started to unleash their first salvo of energy weapon based death upon the enemy on both rooftops and the ground where emplacements would be suspected. The first wave of evac air transports started to leave the FOB in the meantime, using the cover of the gunships to more effectively do so.

Otto Carius was just seeing several of his men returning from the abandoned WIFC positions, shrugging and apologetically raising their hands as they returned to their APCs, watching the zombie horde walk by, as a shout broke his concentration, made the gears in his head stop.

“Aircraft heading straight towards us!”

Remembering the strike against his advance group on the road towards Saguenay as well as the strike on the mountain they had been on, Otto Carius immediately looked towards the skies, anxiously searching it for the aircraft the men were reporting...finding them comparatively easily. Low flying, slow, large craft passing over the city, searching for targets he guessed. They reminded Otto of tactical bombers passing low over the battlefields as they carpet bombed the shit out of ground forces, something he assumed these craft to do as well, given the amount of Zombies that was starting to pour into the city as well as the lack of buildings and cover due to the constant artillery and air strikes.

“Kramer, think you can pull off another amazing shot? Those craft are heading directly towards us.”

From down below he heard Kramer answering, his voice muffled and metallic since he was talking from inside the tank:

“Way ahead of you, Major. Got ‘em in my sights and am ready to fire on demand but I don’t think I’ll have more than one shot. They’ll be too close for our gun elevation in just a bit.”

“Then what in the Führer’s name are you waiting for?!? Fire!”

Kramer of course did as ordered, the 12,8 cm gun of the Jagdtiger briefly spewing fire and smoke as the massive HE shell was sent on its way. It also acted as a signal for all the other gathered Führerkult troops, multiple of the armoured vehicles which were converted with AA roles in mind or atleast had AA MGs on them starting to spew lead in the direction of the approaching C-130s, spewing anything from 8mm to 2 cm munitions at them.

However, they did not have the advanced aim assistance that the WIFC aircraft had, many of the vehicles being poorly stabilized and being dependent on the trusty Mk. 1 eyeball as well as the occasional, not yet broken, telescopic sight. The real dangers of these guns came solely from their volume of fire which in turn only was so high because they were clustered all around the Pont Dubuc Bridge, which they were in the process of crossing.

Return fire set on almost at the same time, energy beams and projectiles swiftly hitting Führerkult vehicles clearly identifiable as AA, the WIFC aircraft turning them into burning wreckage with eerie precision. Führerkult infantry tried to clamber out of the wrecks, crying in pain on the ground before Zombies descended on them or just in general trying to spread out and avoid the deadly barrage unleashed upon them from the air.

The heavy hail of lead set upon the two AC-130s wasn’t without merit, as the heavy fire used on them was enough to extinguish the idea of there being an second strafing run against the undead as the gunships, despite being more uparmored then their normal counterparts, received enough heavy damage to their engines and fuselage that the pilots and crew would desirably want to pull out before they were shot out completely from the sky. Thanks to their sheer size however, they still managed to remain in the air for the most part, apparent with some trouble as they underestimated just how much flak they would receive. However as they flew away from the airspace, at least the damage they caused already wasn’t without notice at the very least.

With burning engines and pock marks from enemy rounds, the lumbering flying beasts retreated with the first wave of transports. However their actions did at least help reveal to Artillery Command that the enemy had AA capabilities all throughout the city, which they were quick to send more additional retaliatory bombardment strikes towards in order to flush them out completely.

On the ground, Imperial troopers set up last details to the defensive perimeter around the FOB in the middle of the city in order to stave off the Undead for as long as possible, using seemingly every trick in the book in the fend off the advancing hordes as they approached. Gun emplacements and mortars going off as riflemen unload magazine after magazine into the undead mobs, it was truly a struggle to behold as the Imperial maintained their ground for as long as possible as more evac transports arrived to relieve them, willing to absolutely level part of the city in their efforts aid in their own defense while doing so.

The Führerkult’s cheering was short-lived as the all too familiar whistling of artillery shells heading for their position was heard, the men who remained quickly scrambling or trying to climb into or below some of the armoured vehicles, Major Otto Carius doing much the same, climbing down into the stinking hull of his Jagdtiger and closing the commander’s hatch behind them, him and his crew listening to the dull thuds and explosions of the artillery shells just outside their vehicle.

“Schneider, can you get through to command? Do they have any new orders for us to go somewhere, now that we’ve got the bridge?”

He could barely even see Schneider, the lighting inside the tank flickering in tact with the shells striking outside and fragments clattering against the hull of the tank. He could however hear his radioman operating the radio, apparently to no avail as he quickly saw him turning around, a gaunt, unshaven face appearing in a flash of light as the radioman reported:

“No luck Major. I think some of that arty may have blasted our antenna straight off.”

Otto sighed, kneading his brows and forehead a bit before asking:

“Lemme guess, we can’t really move either? Tracks blown off?”

The engine roared to life in reply to that and the tank moved...but to the side.

“Left track’s apparently gone Major.”

, his driver, Erdmann, reported.

A more exasperated sigh escaped Otto at that as he realized that they were stuck for the moment. And with the amount of enemy artillery support, they’d have to wait for a while with repairing it since it wasn’t particularly safe to do so right now.

“Guess we’ll be waiting for the Zombies to clear the area for us then…”

And indeed the Undead were in the process of doing just that, the final WIFC defenses coming under heavy assault by hordes of the undead, clambering across the ruins of Saguenay. Even with the mortars tearing holes into their formations, making bodies, blood and gore fly in all directions, the flood did not appear to stop. Even a few Elites still mingled in the Horde, MG salvos whizzing over the soldiers’ heads as the Elites lumbered closer. A few of the faster ones, specifically chainsaw-wielding, huge Chainsaw Elites, managed to even leave the Horde behind and breach into the WIFC trenches, wildly swinging their chainsaws around and occasionally twirling around themselves like some ballerina, leaving brutally mutilated soldiers in their wake, a great deal of firepower having to be pumped into them before they finally lost their strength to continue and collapsed.

Casualties began to mount again on the WIFC defensive perimeter around the FOB, the growing desperate soldiers using whatever they had left to slow down the Undead horde’s unwavering march as much as they could. The last Chinook arrived as it did to pick up the most injured and wounded survivors out of the highly contested LZ. However it was clear, seemingly at first glance, that a portion of Imperial men would be left behind still to secure the helo’s evac. However strangely, from any outsider’s perspective at least, both Lieutenant Kingly and Colonel Konrad and their respective personal units remained in the FOB, the two bringing out a device of sorts that began to deploy itself in a sort of pad, and started to release an energy field around itself that pulsated with a rainbow pattern of light.

The Lieutenant and the Colonel both nodded to each other and both took out their respective launch keys, and proceeded to both insert them into the mysterious doomsday device simultaneously.

“You did what you could, Kingly. Saguenay was unfortunately due to fall at one point or another, we got our people out to fight another day, that’s the part that matters most now, Sir.” Konrad lamented their strategic loss of the city, and the brave men that went down fighting for it.

“We’ll have time later to mourn the dead and the people who were displaced from here. For now we’re gonna take these bastards out right here, right now in the process.” Kingly then said, punching in the coordinates for Toronto’s Teleportation gate in the pad’s touchscreen. The device then began spinning around extremely fast with its energy control components, signaling that now was the time that they left Saguenay behind them.

“Men to me! We’re leaving!” Kingly then barked at his remaining men at their crumbling defenses, who then proceeded to form up on both him and the Colonel at the teleportation device. Within a matter of seconds, a flash of light flared and the remaining Imperial forces in the FOB were gone within a blink of an eye. The only traces they left behind being their shadows and dust particles that remained briefly before vanishing into the air or fading to the ground.

The device, having fulfilled its first objective, pulsated once again to fulfill arguably it's much more valuable and important secondary objective. Teleporting from the device, a WMD-grade virus-bomb was launched high into the air above the FOB, and by extension in the middle of the doomed city. With no other choices remaining as the horde closed in through the doomed city, the WIFC had resorted to one final option to ensure both the horde’s and the city’s complete annihilation. The warhead then ignited, cracking the bombshell apart as a sickly and extremely lethal gas escaped from it and quickly spread all over Saguenay and much of the surrounding area, contaminating several miles of land in the process for untold centuries through the first stage of the warhead alone.

The gas quickly turned anything that was organic, either living, dead or otherwise, into a highly flammable and toxic sludge left behind in its wake within a matter of seconds. Gas masks and NBC protection were of no use as the incredibly volatile fumes melted through the filters and eventually rendered the wearer themselves into a ghastly slime.

Soon within a matter of moments the gas had reduced the Quebecois city into a hellish cesspool where nothing could possibly survive within it. Then the secondary ignition of the bomb’s core went off. Lighting a white hot flame that quickly turned the affected area into a violent firestorm as all the flammable sludge burned away and ignited. Explosions went off and debris was sent up into the air and atmosphere, blocking out the sun in the greater area for what would be quite an extended amount of time as pollutants were also sent up in the blaze in the process. Saguenay had been absolutely leveled as a result, the Pont Dubuc Bridge reduced to molten struts at best, with toxic forest fires burning away outside of the city for miles. Anywhere else in the world that had the means to detect it, could tell a WMD of sorts went off in that part of the globe, not a week after Europa and Russia had almost wiped themselves off the face of the Earth already.

If Québec wasn’t Hell on Earth already, now was the time to consider it.
Chedastan Puppet

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