Napadenie [Closed]

[The Sovietyeto]

Napadenie

Commander Abraham was in the war zone as they called it. The area when the short borders between Armedland and the motherland touched. And the motherland was under attack. Mere hours after declaring a ceasefire Armedland had broke it's promise and sent a small attack team to forehead an assault.

But they had a massive advantage. Their troops were among the elite as far as training. And their technology was unrivaled in the east. Not to mention their supply lines were not in constant danger from attack. Armedland was however. But this was not a concern of his. He was to hold the borders, nothing more.

The town was small, dirty and had a small population. The USSR hadn't gotten to increasing the infastructure of the area yet. Which was really a pity. But it still provided the advantage of fortification, though there was definitely better further in.

Abraham pulled down his binoculars and pulled over his walkie talkie. Checking the channel was secure he communicate his estimate on enemy numbers.

"This is captain Abraham, we are under attack. I estimate a good forty tanks, outdated but heavily armed... And perhaps 1,000 soldiers. This is it men. We are less in numbers. We shall see if skill beats numbers. Fight for the motherland comrades. These monsters wont stop at your lives. Onward!" Men hunkered down in hastily dug foxholes, on the top of roofs and behind corners of buildings.

The first five tanks crossed the borders. And the handful of anti tank mines blew them up. The remaining 35 slowed down, which really wasn't a smart thing. A slow target was an easy target. An RPG came from a rooftop and blew up a sixth tank. A few more fired an a few more blew up but now the intruders were wising up.

A machine gun roared. And bullets sprayed on both sides. A few Soviet soldiers fell back dead. A few Armedland soldiers fell in the sand to.

A tank blew up but a soldier was to close and both a tank and a poor man died I a ball of fire. A shell fired and smoke came from a tank. A building collapsed and all the men inside it died at once.

(OOC: Armedland, just continue from here of you want. If you want me to make a change just say so.)

SOVIET AIRSPACE- ST PETERSBURG GENERAL AREA

To: Kaligulan Escort Party
From: St Petersburg Air Base Sector-A
Sub: Response

Your arrival has been approved. Please land at St Petersburg Air Base Sector-A, landing space 4. You will be fill out your passports while we search you plane in the interest of saving time. Thank you for your time.
<<End

PEACE SUMMIT, BEIJING, CHINA

Komichar stepped of the plan and coughed into his elbow. He stepped down from the plane to meet a handfull of reporters and a small crowd. Some cheering, others giving jeers and catcalls.

[Kaligula]

To: St. Petersburg
From: Minister Argus Rahl
Sub: RE: Escort Party

We will be arriving within the hour, we have had some faulty equipment on board our aircraft. So we couldn't reply sooner. I agree to your terms; I am traveling with a party of 10 others including the fighter escorts and while I am taking care of the passports, 5 of my bodyguards will observe the searches of our aircraft. When I'm finished with the passports then we will relieve the guards conducting the observations and they will get their passports. If you wish you can send a couple fighters with us if you feel its needed. I will see you shortly
Minister Argus Rahl

>End Transmission <

[Kommandoria]

About one click from an oil and natural gas refinery in southwestern Armedland...

The Deus-V could see the huge refinery in the distance. Though the desert moonlight cause the metal of the refinery to shimmer in the night, the squad still used night vision so that they could make out the details of the structure. The refinery's western half was mostly large, spherical tanks of fuel. On the eastern half were office buildings and pipelines leading hundreds of miles out into the desert. The squad walked on, now about seven hundred meters from the complex. Finally, Oranos took a knee and raised his fist. The rest of the squad immediately took a knee as well and awaited orders.

Oranos: I see a lot of activity. Several hundred workers, a few dozen soldiers. Most of the workers are in the western half, and the soldiers are scattered all over the area. We need to hit them very fast and very hard. Loki, hit the northwestern quarter where the majority of fuel tanks are located.

Loki nodded and lifted the massive VYCM-X88 Inferno from his back and steadied it on his right arm and shoulder. He loaded a large missile into it as Oranos continued to speak.

Oranos: Shiva, you snipe any remaining fuel tanks that Loki manages to miss. The thermite should ignite them on contact. Once you finish, give long-range support to the rest of the squad by picking off armed guards.

Shiva merely cocked her weapon and lied down on the sand, staring at the refinery through her scope.

Oranos: Anubis, you and I are going to charge in after Loki's first barrage. Hades will hang back slightly and cover us. The three of us will do what we can to tear up the pipelines and offices.

Anubis thumped his chestplate with his fist and Hades remained silent.

Oranos: Alright. Loki, take the shot in thirty seconds. Everyone else, get ready. Heil der Kyzar.

Loki angled himself and watched the targeting screen on the side on the Inferno. Its infrared mode showed a cornucopia of blues, reds, oranges, and whites. Finally, he spotted a very clustered area and took a deep breath. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One...
There was a small flash as the missile popped out of the barrel. No more than a quarter of a second later, a glorious burst of light lit up the desert as the missile ignited and soared straight up into the night sky. Loki lowered the Inferno to watch as hell descended upon these poor fools. It climbed to at least three hundred meters in the air before pitching downward and screech towards its target. Shiva could see the workers and guards staring up at the sky at their doom approached. Then, it happened. It was an explosion unlike any other. First, the intense shockwave sent waves of sand flying in every direction and catwalks were ripped from their foundations. Next, the sheer heat of the initial blast evaporated all non-metal objects within at least a hundred meters. Finally, a volcano of pure, liquid flame flowed through the complex. The explosion of the missile set off a chain reaction as dozens of other fuel tanks also exploded across the facility.

Shiva, didn't flinch. Without hesitation, she let loose a barrage of thermite sniper rounds that tore through other fuel tanks. It had only been about twenty seconds since the missile had made contact, and yet a fourth of the refinery was already ablaze. Oranos and Anubis sprinted across the sand towards the refinery while Hades lumbered behind them. Hundreds of workers were madly running for the hills, many carrying shell-shocked co-workers. Once they reached the eastern half, they began placing bricks of C4 along the bases of each office building and pipeline. Hades covered them, showering the guards with a rain of molten bullets and grenades. One of the guards ran towards Hades, bayonet raised. Without a hint of effort, Hades swung one of his huge arms and sent the man flying into an office building's wall. As soon as the charges were set, the trio fell back to Shiva and Loki, who had finished lighting up the other western quarter. Once they had regrouped, the charges detonated and the already-crippled facility became a towering bonfire, and the pipelines leading out into the desert burst into flames. Oranos raised his wrist to his mouthpiece.

Oranos: This is Oranos to Arsenic-3. Objective completed. Deus-V ready for extraction. Copy?

Arsenic-3: Solid copy, Oranos. ETA two minutes.

Oranos: Understood. Oranos, out...

The desert was quiet as the refinery burned. All the Deus-V could hear was a V-37 Antithesis approaching in the distance...

[Kauvara]

ENTRY CHECKPOINT, OIL REFINERY "MAHARAJA"
OUTSIDE OF MAESEK, REPUBLIC OF ARMEDLAND
01:54 HOURS

Where once a beautiful moon dimly-lit a brilliant refinery, now everything was cast in a dull red as flames raged. The air was thick with black smoke, assaulting the senses, stinging the eyes and throat. Bodies were strewn about, their twisted, burned forms still glowing with flecks of red embers. An Armedladican fuel truck lack sideways on the road, it's back blown off when the canister on the back exploded. A guard post lay in ruins, having been sheared in half by the explosion. Barbed wire fences lay in ruins, their spines strewn about, a hazard for the nonperceptive.

Four pairs of black shoes clacked on the broken asphalt in the entryway to the refinery compound. The clacking became more and more soft, as sand and rubble began to intermingle with the steadily-degrading hardened road. They approached the guard post, stopping. "Vincent. Claire. Check the post," said one of the men. He was Middle Eastern, with a slight Arabic accent. His hair was black, with strips removed in a pattern along his left forehead, the result of a claw dragging across his scalp. Two of the figures in black suits moved towards the guard post. One of them was a young woman, with hip-length brown hair in a braid. The other had tousled black hair, swept over one glowing red eye. The fourth had blonde hair, a female, who was holding a SPAS-12 Shotgun as she looked around, alert to catch any threat.

"Claire," said the man with red eyes, in a soft, yet stern voice that sounded almost lamentatious. "You got the computer?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it, Vincent," she replied. "You just use what Dr. Hojo gave you. Make sure nobody sneaks up on me. And watch your own back, too. You got a wife to think about!"
"Understood," Vincent Valtus replied, turning away, looking into the black smoke. To anybody else, it would seem odd. He was just staring directly into thick darkness and smoke. But his eyes began shifting in their glow, slowly flicking, like the smoldering embers on the bodies outside.

"Salim!" Claire Gainsborough called out. "I've got something here!"

The Middle Eastern man and the blonde woman rushed into the guard post. "Looks like Claire found something, Paula," Salim Mohammed said slyly. "Glad you remember how to use a computer."
"Ah, leave her alone, Salim," Paula teased. "They left her in training for too long." The three laughed, as Vincent continued observing the smoke. "So what've you got, Claire?"
"Security feed. Landus would love this... Apparently Tsven was right. Landus's old pet project has been mobilized. Deus-V were here," she replied.
"'Deus-V?' What Landus was working on back in Kommandoria? The predecessor to the SOLDIER program?" Paula asked.
"Yep. That's the one. Man, wish we had some of the Firsts here right now..." Claire muttered. "A fight between them and the Deusers? That'd be a hell of a show."
"Yeah, but remember the objective people, why we're here," Salim interjected. "Eyes on the prize. Hojo has wanted this stuff for years. It's time we deliver. Download the security footage; it's one of our secondary objectives to bring in battle data on the Deus-V."
"Crazy bastard..." Paula breathed. "Look what he did to Vincent!"
Vincent stopped scanning, turning around, his one eye that was not covered in his black hair piercing straight into Paula. He began walking towards her. "Agent Harvey," he began. "What Dr. Hojo was done is of none of your concern. He has increased my combat capabilities. I would advise you to maintain discipline." He turned around, walking into the smoke.

Salim gives his orders

The group moved forward into the compound. The smoke was thick, making it almost impossible to breathe. The heat of oil-driven flames pierced into the agents. Bodies were strewn everywhere, civilian and soldier alike. "That's one difference between SOLDIER and Deus... We'd never slaughter people like this..." Paula muttered. "Fucking murderers... Sure, those Firsts are a little... odd. But they'd never just slaughter people."
"I would remind you, once again, of your duty," Vincent stated, his eyes glowing intensely.
"To serve humanity, Vincent! Not to murder!"
"We work in the shadows. We do not have time for sentiment."
"Vincent... How did a grump like you end up with a happy girl like Lucrezia...?"
Vincent said nothing, and continued into the smoke, before he stopped suddenly, his eyes shifting, focusing on a destroyed fuel tank. "Targets located."
"Good work, Vincent," Salim said. "Paula, Claire, extract. Vincent and I will remove the packages." Without a word, the two agents withdrew, moving towards the entrance. Vincent led Salim to a large collection of massive metal cylinders, about the size of their arms. "Careful, Vince, they're probably scalding with all of this flame." Vincent said not a word, picking up two of the cylinders, his hands steaming slightly. "It is our turn to extract, sir," he said emotionlessly.
"By the Fox, Vince... Lucrezia is gonna be pissed about your hands."

The pair began moving back towards the entrance. They heard some shouting. It was Paula and Claire, and some unidentified voice. Salim and Vincent emerged from the smoke to find their two fellow agents facing down an Armedlandican security guard, sitting in the ash on his knees who was shouting up at them. "Salim!" Paula called out. "Thanks for coming! We got a survivor here!"
"Please!" the man was begging. "I have a family! Two little boys! A wife! My brother, he lives with me!"
"Fox dammit, shut up!" Claire shouted. The man cringed.
"What happened?" Salim asked.
"He came back, one of the original security. Doing his duty, I guess," Paula replied.
"As we should, as well," Vincent said, walking up, dropping the two heavy cylinders. He swiftly drew his pistol, aiming at the man's head, a white crosshair appearing over his right eye.
"N-no, please!" he cried. Paula planted herself between Vincent and the security guard, drawing her gun, levelling the barrel at Vincent. His eyes twitched, the crosshair disappearing. "Vincent, no! You can't do thi-!" Her head exploded in a shower of brains and blood, the man's following less than a second later.


SAND DUNE OVERLOOKING THE REFINERY
ONE MILE AWAY
02:12 HOURS

Agent Primaris Victoria Simmons of the Office of Internal Affairs and Investigations reset the bolt on her sniper rifle, before opening up her phone, all the while observing the other agents through her scope. "Director, after action report prepared." In the distance, the three remaining agents of the Office of Technological Acquisition were grabbing the cylinders and applying Infernus tablets to Paula's body. "One casualty." The three moved away from the rapidly de-atomizing corpse, making for the extraction zone. "Agent Secundus Paula Harvey." A stealthed helicopter, jet black with blue running lights, landed near them. "She was unprepared to what was necessary, and has been neutralized." Dust buffeted the three agents. "Recommend we find an immediate replacement." The three got in, Claire visibly shaken as Salim held her; Vincent seemed unperturbed. "Official report will be inbound shortly." She clacked her phone shut.


LABORATORY OF DOCTOR YAJIRO HOJO, OFFICE OF RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
AGENCY HEADQUARTERS, UNKNOWN LOCATION
TIME CLASSIFIED TO AVOID TIMEZONE TRACKING

Hojo looks on as Vladimir is carried out

"Now then, my specimen," Hojo said excitedly. "It is time to apply the finishing touches!"

The room was stark, a dark one filled with various medical, biological, mechanical, and all sorts of other scientific gear strewn about. Along one of the walls, various containers held biological specimens in flash-freeze. In the middle was a metal operating table, upon which Agent Secundus Vladimir Iliescu was strapped. Machines worked on his face, as he screamed out in pain. "Good!" Hojo called out. "Progress! Doctor Gast? Please make note of his tolerance!"

Lucrezia Valtus approached him. "Doctor, should we not give him anesthetics?" Vladimir struggled against his bonds as the machines welded the components into place, sparks showering his exposing facial muscles. "Anesthetics?!?" Hojo practically screamed. "You must be joking! This data is valuable! Can you not see the use of pain tolerance information? Now sit down, Doctor Valtus, and leave me with my specimen!" The procedure finally stopped. Vladimir breathed heavily, his new implants pulsing. "Agent Iliescu?" Hojo asked. He did not respond. "Agent Iliescu!" Hojo repeated, annoyed. Vladimir looked at him. "How do you feel?"
"Mă simt bine. Thank you, Doctor. Am I free to go?" he asked.
"Of course, of course! Be gone, specimen. You are no longer useful. But, please, allow my people to carry you out. We do not want you damaged! Your implants are very fragile!" Hojo shouted. A pair of Agent Tertii carried him out on a stretcher. Hojo tisked, looking at his watch. "Where is Agent Mohammed with my-?"

As if on cue, Salim, Vincent, and Claire entered, canisters in hand. "Three of you?" Hojo asked. "No matter. Did you find what I sent you out for?"
"Yes, Doctor," Salim began, handing him the canisters.
"They are larger than I thought..." Hojo muttered excitedly. He began to prattle on to himself as he carried the canisters over to a table, examining them.

Lucrezia walked up to Vincent. "Hello, Vince! Good day at the office?" she said, laughing as she kissed him on the cheek.
"Objectives accomplished, Lucy. Thank you for asking." He was about to kiss her back when Hojo suddenly shoved her away. "Agent Valtus! How did the new ocular implants work?" he gushed. "Please, please, come this way!" He began to guide Vincent over to the bloody operating table when he caught sight of the canisters again. Seemingly forgetting about Vincent, he let go of him and went back to them, pouring over them and muttering to himself again. Lucrezia was about to talk to Vincent again, when Salim called out to him. "Vincent, the Director wants a report! C'mon!" He began to walk out, before Lucrezia caught his sleeve, pulling him over to her. "So long, Vince. I love you," she said, kissing him. Vincent said not a word, kissing her, then walking out. Hojo, meanwhile, seemed to be in a trance. "Call Landus..." he said to nobody in particular.

"We just found some of his precious thermite shells..."

AFTER-ACTION REPORT

The Fox is ever watchful

OFFICE(S) OF OPERATION: Office of Technological Acquisition, Office of Research and Development, Office of Internal Affairs and Investigations

AGENTS INVOLVED: Agent Primaris Salim Mohammed, Agent Secundus Claire Gainsborough, Agent Secundus Paula Harvey (deceased), Agent Secundus Vincent Valtus

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE(S):
1. Recon site of Kommandorian attack: COMPLETE
2. Confirm presence of Deus-V: COMPLETE
3. Collect thermite samples: COMPLETE
4. Leave no trace of presence: COMPLETE

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE(S):
1. Engage the Deus-V: FAILED
2. Assist local civilians: FAILED
3. Ensure refinery cleared: COMPLETE
4. Gain real-time battle data on Deus-V: FAILED
5. Gain secondary battle data on Deus-V: COMPLETE

NOTE(S):
-New agent needed for Office of Technological Acquisition to replace Agent Secundus Paula Harvey. Recommend immediate recruitment
-Recommend we up the training on new agents to ensure situation at the end of the mission never occurs again

We serve in the Fox's Shadow; we protect His Light

[Kaligula]

>>>Encrypted Message<<<
From: Secretary Allan Cartwright of the Controller's Office
To: Minister of Speech Drax Rahl
Sub: Diamondscope Research satellite

Ave Minister,
Please include this attached file in your public broadcast, it is the official story we are prepared to release on the Diamondscope "scientific research" satellite we just launched. I'd also like to inform you that the Controller has selected you to oversee the Ministry of Treaties while Argus Rahl is in Beijing.
Please direct any questions to Minister Argus's secretary.
>>>End Transmission<<<

>>>Encrypted Message<<<
From: Col. Grobitz
To: Shepard Team 0202C3-1, Shepard Team 0202C3-2, Shepard Team 0202C3-3
Sub: Diamondscope Military Satellite/Sovietyeto Hitchhiker

Good work in entering Sovietyeto, our new satellite imagery has confirmed your previous data on Sovietyeto geographic terrain. It is imperative that all of you maintain your cover, and keep a low profile. There is no rush to get to your objective, Team 2 & 3, your work visa's are valid through the end of the year. I will be transferring my handler duties to Shepard Agent 36, who has been living in Moscow as a social worker. Please see him, he will brief you more individually.
Ave
>>>End Transmission<<<

This message was sent on an encrypted frequency from a directional antenna aboard a disguised fishing vessel off the coast of Sweden. It was broadcasted once at a predetermined time, and shortly after the broadcast, the vessel left Soviet waters. The transmission was received by makeshift stations using a portable briefcase radio. The antenna was inconspicuously set up on a tree or a telephone pole. Each team of 4 are spread out along the NE Soviet coastline. Upon receiving the instructions, the teams disassembled the radio equipment and destroyed the electronic components including the black encryption box-CYZ-10. Each respective team then steadily made their way to Moscow by public transportation, hiking, and hitchhiking. Each team had a different disguise, some were disguised as transients, others as migrant workers-hailing from Scandinavia.

[Kaligula]

OOC:
In the future, I'll try and be more specific when I say "encrypted transmission", since it can be; email, satellite, radio, and telephone. Those details are important so I'll try and remember.

[Armedland]

Bejiing

The recent reforms had put the Armedlandian government into a small amount of turmoil over who would take power, leading to the transportation of simply president Fernando Murril to the vast, Chinese city.

He knows they are here to discuss peace, but he hates the Soviets. Their culture, their dysfunctional economy, their petty politics...He hated it all. The war, unfortunately, still raged on with Soviet, and it was obvious that the Refinery bombing was Kommondorian. The weapons used were Kommandorian, as were the bullets that were found afterwards on a hill overlooking the Imted refinery.

He arrives in his hotel, and awaits his call to the courtroom.

Measek

Erik Fonte, the deputy head of state, cringes at the news of another refinery going down. Considering this is the second bombing, he takes a desperate measure that he knows may backfire.
He grabs a piece of paper and begins writing.

Starting on the day of January 31st, all oil, natural gas, or other fuel refineries will come under government control for...

Eric hesitates at a number, then decides.

...30 days. All employees will be paid equally, and all jobs will continue normally except under heavy military protection by the Armedlandian police and national guard. Large amounts of troops while be circulated through areas surrounding refineries, and within them.
Approved by the Deputy Head of State

Battlefield in east (?)


The Soviet forces blast away at the better-armed Armedlandians, thinking they have the advantage. Frost sees the grim battlefield, and knows that the final phase must be launched before the massacre of good, strong, new soldiers gets to far out of hand. The Soviets had already killed some 70 men when he gives the order.

He takes out his radio, and mutters quietly:

"Now."

Seconds later, major forces charge the Soviet battlefield, rifles blazing on all flanks. Frost knows the Soviets have virtually no chance of surviving the onslaught, but his only question is will they surrender, and if not, how long can they resist?

[Kaligula]

Argus Rahl was checked in by his assistant, it was a beautiful resort-comparable to those in Capital Precinct, Kaligula. He waited in the elevator to reach the 9th floor. the majority of his guards had already checked in and swept the room for listening devices and cameras. Argus had spent the night on the plane while they checked the Resort out. Now, finally, he could sleep comfortably without interruption.
Argus bore a near exact resemblance to Yul Brynner, he also shared some of the same habbits.
The Minister entered his suite, bigger then he expected, to see his bodyguards were cooking dinner. His secretary, Janus, took his coat and asked his opinion of the resort. "Impressive, I think I'll come back here for the NEXT peace talk." He lit a cigarette while his secretary and bodyguards laughed at his joke. He wasn't sure if they really thought it was funny, but he didn't much care.
"I need to make a private call, I'll be in my room." He said tiredly
He went upstairs to the suites master bedroom. He entered and shut the door behind him, he moved the ashtray and phone on the bed. He ashed his cigarette and rested the phone on his shoulder while he began dialing.

[Kauvara]

FERNANDO MURRIL SQUARE, RICHARD ARMEDLAND MAUSOLEUM
ARNIM, CAPITAL OF ARMEDLAND
13:41 HOURS

Suzanne Hendriks sighed, bored out of her mind as she and her class we guided through the open-air mausoleum of their great founder. The bright desert sun beat down into the beautiful burial complex. In school, they were reminded daily that Armedland was a great man, and Suzy agreed. He helped make their beautiful way of life, protecting them from evil foreigners, socialism, and unhappiness. But this place was booooring! She wanted to go look at the paintings of him again! They looked really cool! Suddenly, she was distracted by the doors opening behind her...

Four people in black suits walked inside. The one on the left had a cocky gait about him, goggles holding his unkempt red hair in place, his dress shirt untucked and tieless. To his right strode another man, taller, bald, his black sunglasses reflecting the desert light. On his right flank was another man, looking very official, his black hair tied neatly behind him in a small, samurai-esque ponytail. Finally, on the far right, a shorter, blonde girl was walking, a cellphone to her ear as she talked to somebody called the "derrekter."

"Understood," the blonde girl said, closing the phone as she turned to the man to her left. "Tsven, operation is go."
"Roger, Elena," he said. He turned over to the two men on his left. "Remus, Rydan, clear the building."
"With pleasure..." the read-head said. "Rydan, let's do this."

The two on the left withdrew Carpathia and Moldovan submachine guns, raising them towards the crowd of children, opening fire, the CMian shells landing everywhere. The civilians in the complex screamed, running for the exits...


RICHARD ARMEDLAND MAUSOLEUM, FERNANDO MURRIL SQUARE
ARNIM, CAPITAL OF ARMEDLAND
13:42 HOURS

Rydan and Remus speak to Tsevn while civilians flee

The submachine guns began to click, their clips empty. Remus and Rydan dropped the Carpathia and Moldovan weapons. "Primitive pieces of crap... Wasn't hard to miss on purpose with these guys," Remus muttered.

After a few seconds, the halls remained still, the civilians having fled the building. The hot desert sun beat down on the agents as they moved forward. "Remember your objectives, people. We aren't here to hurt civilians. Split up, and move quickly. Elena, you're with me. Remus, Rydan, you know what to do. Any hurry up! Police will be here soon," Tsven ordered.
"Understood, Tsevn," Elena responded, moving downstairs.
"You got it, boss," Remus answered, sprinting towards the central area. "Rydan! C'mon! Try to keep up!"
Rydan gave Remus a look, then turned and nodded at Tsven before he began chasing after Remus.
Tsven sighed, moving towards the stairs, going down after Elena.


LOWER EAST SECTION, RICHARD ARMEDLAND MAUSOLEUM
ARNIM, CAPITAL OF ARMEDLAND
13:42 HOURS

Tsven and Elena moved quickly, ducking through corridors, thankful that nobody was in the building. Their objectives were simple. And they had to move fast if they didn't want to hurt anybody. "So where is the target, Tsevn?" Elena asked.
"According to the building plans forwarded to us by our contact in the Armedlandican Resistance, as well as the Prizyetsi Intelligence Service, it should be right..." They moved through one last door. "Here."

Before them lay a large stone room, torches lighting the walls. The air was heavy and damp, cold contrast to the desert heat up above. In the middle stood a massive stone pillar. "Elena," Tsven began. "Watch my back, will you?"
"Yeah, you got it, Tsven," Elena replied. Tsven removed a black box, placing it next to the pillar, its cover reading "CARPATHIA AND MOLDOVA CHROME INDUSTRIES" in large white letters. He set to work preparing the device. "Hey... Tsven," Elena asked quietly, her eyes scanning the room.
"What's up, Elena?" Tsven asked as his fingers dextrously moved across the panels of the device.
"Do you remember when we were kids? How you used to protect me?"
"Yeah, what about it? By the Fox, this thing is difficult... I'm used to Kauvaran holodisplays..."
"Looks like the opposite is now true, eh?"
"Elena? You OK? What are you getting at?"
"I dunno... N-nevermind," she said, blushing. "How goes it with the-?" Elena was cut off as Tsven's phone began ringing. He opened it up, answering it. "Tsven here. What is it?"
"Boss! It's Remus!" the voice on the line shouted over the sounds of gunfire. "Shit's going down up here! We need to leave!"
"Did you plant the package?"
"Hell yeah, what do you think?!? But we gotta move! Security has closed in! Not police or civilians! The damned army is here!"
"The army..." Tsven contemplated. "We're gonna need help with this one. Remus, you and Rydan hold position at the extraction zone. We'll be right there. Expect help shortly."
"Help, sir?!?"
"Help." Tsven hung up, dialing a different number.


UNKNOWN COALITION TRANSPORT
AIRSPACE OVER ARMEDLAND
13:51 HOURS

Angel looks back at Zack

Two men in odd uniforms sat in silence in the dark cabin of the transport ship, utilizing the best technology the Coalition had to offer. It suddenly ignited with a blue glow, as a readout displayed the following information:

>> ASSISTANCE REQUESTED FROM DEPUTY DIRECTOR TSVEN TETSUO
>> DEPLOYMENT: IMMEDIATE
>> OPERATIVES ANGEL HENNER/ZACHARY STRYFE
>> CODE WHITE
>> SOLDIER USE: AUTHORIZED

The SOLDIER First-classes stood up, moving towards the door before opening it. "Hey, Zack," the older one said.
"What's up, Angel?" the younger one replied.
"This will be your first drop as a First. You sure you're ready?"
"Totally! I can't wait! Really gonna smash some heads on this one!"
"Zack... Relax. Just accomplish your objectives." Angel began moving towards the door. "Oh, and one other thing..."
"Yeah?"
"Embrace your dreams," Angel said as he fell backwards out the door. "And protect your honor!" Zack quickly dove out after him.


FERNANDO MURRIL SQUARE, RICHARD ARMEDLAND MAUSOLEUM
ARNIM, CAPITAL OF ARMEDLAND
13:59 HOURS

"Another wave! Head's up!" Remus called out.

More squads of Armedlandican soldiers began moving towards the group across the bloodstained courtyard. Rydan dove into one of them, his fists pulverizing two of them as his leg kicked out, sending one flying backwards across the courtyard. Remus attacked another, his electro-mag rod striking into a trio of soldiers, blood spurting from their bodies in the arc of the rod as Remus went to work. Elena fired the rope-dispenser, its harpoon-like tip spearing through several soldiers' chests. Tsven, meanwhile, tackled two soldiers to the ground, discharging shots from his Carpathian pistol into their heads as he raised the firearm, dispatching several more.

"Dammit!" Remus called out as he jumped up into the air, flipping over the heads of some soldiers as he cracked his rod across their skulls, it's electricity splitting their helmets. "We can't keep this up!"
"Hate to say it, Tsven," Elena began as she used to rope to whip through several troopers, the rope bisecting their bodies. "But he's right!"
"Don't worry!" Tsven called out as he buried his pistol into the mouth of one of the soldiers, painting the ground with his head before firing into two more. "They're coming!"
"Who is?!?" Remus called out.
Rydan pointed upwards as two shadows streaked towards them. "Help."

Zack faces down the army

With two booms, Angel and Zack hit the ground, the pavement cracking beneath their feet in large circles, the shockwaves sending a few Armedlandican troopers flying into walls, breaking their spines. Soldiers quickly surrounded them, pointing their guns at them, a deathly quiet falling over the ruined courtyard as the two men stood between the soldiers and the "Carpathian" agents.

"Embrace your dreams," Angel began, drawing his massive sword. "Protect your honor." He turned to the agents behind him. "Run."

With a flourish, Zack and Angel launched themselves at the Armedlandicans.

Zack and Angel after the battle

It seemed unreal. Inhuman. They moved so quickly. Weapons discharged as bullets flew everywhere, impacting in walls, the ground, sailing through the air, even hitting fellow soldiers. Blades glinted, steadily losing their shine as they became slick with blood. Within less than a minute, the ground lay littered with two platoons of Armedlandican soldiers. "Zack, are you alright?" Angel asked.
"Y-yeah... Little- ngh... Little tired. How do you wield that huge thing?" Zack asked, panting.
"Practice. Same with Sephondis and Genesis," he replied.
"Damn..." Zack said, holding his broadsword. While it was not a small sword, it paled in comparison to Angel's. "Well, practice makes perfect, eh?"
"Right, Zack. We'll run some simulators when we get back. C'mon," Angel said, turning towards the agents. "I believe it is time we said goodbye. Support has been given. See you back at HQ." With that, Angel and Zack took off at inhuman speed, sprinting towards a 10-foot-high retaining wall before jumping over it and disappearing.

"That was... interesting," Remus quipped.
"Indeed. You know what else is interesting?" Tsven said, checking his watch.
"What's that, boss?"
"28 seconds."

The agents began to sprint towards stairs leading to an overlook as a black, unmarked helicopter of Carpathian design descended, its side door opening. With a leap, the four agents jumped inside. "Go! Go! Go!" Tsven shouted to the pilots. The helicopter banked hard, pulling up and away. Within seconds, the empty mausoleum below began to collapse, the Carpathian explosives set on the primary support struts detonating. Before Tsven could even blink, the whole thing collapsed in on itself, completely destroyed. "Nice work, people!" Tsven shouted. "Nice work..."
"Hell yeah, chalk another one up for the good guys!" Remus called out, clapping Rydan on the back, hard enough to make him cough slightly. Rydan raised his fist, punching Remus in the jaw, knocking him out cold. A small smile curled on the left side of his mouth. Tsven just rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“What about security footage, boss?” Elena asked.
“Don’t worry; our hackers have taken care of it. Armedlandican systems are a good 100 years behind ours. Child’s play,” Tsven replied.
“Ah… Good…” Elena said, drifting off as she rested her head on Tsven’s shoulder. Tsven blushed deeply, turning towards his phone as he prepared his report for the Director...


CENTRAL SET, KAUVARAN INFORMATION NETWORK STUDIO
VULPES, CAPITAL OF KAUVARA
15:11 HOURS

"...and he has been unable to be reached for comment. On to our next report, we are just receiving word that an unknown team has viciously attacked an Armedlandican civilian target, the mausoleum of their founder, Richard Armedland. While no civilians were killed, many Armedlandican soldiers have been confirmed KIA defending the monument from the attackers. Kauvara is offering to handle the investigation for the Armedlandicans, even volunteering the legendary forces of the Imperial Kauvaran Special Forces to the cause. Armedland has long been an ally of Kauvara, ever since our nation built food processors that allow the Armedlandican people to survive and prosper. Kauvara grieves for its friend, and wishes to help it by discovering the identity of this attacker. In other news, the war in the east continues to rage despite peace talks being held in Beijing..."

AFTER-ACTION REPORT

The Fox protects

OFFICE(S) OF OPERATION: Office of Government Adjustment, Office of Agency SOLDIERs

AGENTS INVOLVED: Deputy Director Tsven Tetsuo, Agent Primaris Remus Vipsanius, Agent Secundus Rydan <ERROR>, Agent Secundus Elena Lockhart, SOLDIER First-class Angel Henner, SOLDIER First-class Zachary Stryfe

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE(S):
1. Prevent all civilian casualties: COMPLETE
2. Utilize Carpathia and Moldovan weapons: COMPLETE
3. Destroy the mausoleum: COMPLETE
4. Leave no trace of anything but Carpathian and Moldovan tools: COMPLETE
5. Leave no trace of presence: COMPLETE

SECONDARY OBJECTIVE(S):
1. Confirm presence of resistance movement: FAILED
2. Assist local civilians: FAILED
3. Gain real-time battle data on SOLDIER: COMPLETE

NOTE(S):
-If Carpathia and Moldova is implicated, the potentially world-destroying Bucharest Mandate may be shattered
-CM can be blamed for this action by claiming they wanted a militant arm of the BM; when Armedland refused, they decided to prove that it was necessary with black operations
-Resistance movements may gain inspiration from this action
-If nothing else, this action may help the warring nations see the foolishness and destructive nature of the conflict, and it may end, saving millions of lives
-This operation was NOT sanctioned by the Emperor, Gaius Kauvus, or Kauvara; they are unaware of it, and it is recommended they remain so

Take two steps back for every jump; but keep the will to leap

OOC: sorry I had to cut it short! I had to go to work XD

[Lolzieristan]

Golitsyngrad Airfield, Northeast Lolzieristan
Munitions Storage Bunker #1

Airman Second Class Anatoliy Revornik was walking through the rows and rows of missiles, his hands gripping a pen and clipboard and his neck crawling with sweat. The bunker wasn't air conditioned, after all, and Golitsyngrad was far off into the desert. Through the narrow slits right below the ceiling, he could see the transports, still touching down one after another. Operation Redcard was making this the busiest airfield in all of Stania. He stopped and watched the troops running off the ramp of an Ilyushin strategic airlift, their combat gear on and their rifles clutched tightly in their hands. The arrival phase was, of course, being role-played as a combat insertion...some OpFor elements were just a few dozen kilometers away. Any closer and their simulated SAM fire would start to be a problem...

Suddenly, a set of tank treads blocked his vision, and then another. A whole column was rolling by the windows, and he went back to his task.

Pallets fifteen through twenty, laser-guided bombs...check.

Why the hell am I doing this, anyway? It's not like anybody's going to lose ten thousand pounds of explosives...

Pallets twenty-one through twenty-five, laser-guided bombs...check.

He turned to face a heavy steel blast door...

Ядерная хранения оружия, Nuclear Weapons Storage.

He punched in the six-digit numerical sequence, then inserted his security card into the scanner. The blast door swung open, and he stepped through, his eyes scanning the inconspicuous dark grey projectiles. One hundred tactical nuclear weapons, mostly laser-guided missiles and bombs.

CRASH.

He spun around instantly, stepping quickly outside the thick metal doorframe, his palm resting on the grip of his Grach pistol. He immediately saw that one of the steel security doors had been knocked off of its hinges and was dangling languidly, attached only by the bottom one. He couldn't see what had done it, though, and he immediately called it in on his radio as he drew his pistol, walking forward to investigate. A man in a ski mask and black fatigues suddenly swung around from one of the thick concrete beams, jamming the business end of a suppressed pistol right into Revornik's face.

"Freeze. Don't do anything stupid. Drop the pistol and the radio, turn around at once."
Revornik didn't comply immediately, and he suddenly found his elbow shattered. The Grach dropped harmlessly from his limp right arm, and the radio followed at once.
"Back to the Vault, don't say a word."
The figure stuck his pistol into Revornik's back, and the enlisted man began to trudge forward hopelessly.
What does this guy want?
"Aaah, I see you left it open for us, Airman Revornik!"
"How the hell do you-"
Crunch!

The specter suddenly grabbed the Lolzi's wounded arm, twisting his wrist and forearm around as his other hand covered the Lolzi's mouth. He screamed in pain, but it barely made any noise...especially since there was now a cargo plane right beside the bunker, its propellers still whirling. However, the din outside didn't prevent Revornik from hearing the man's accent...
Sounded Armedlandian...I think...but...it...
His train of thought was once again interrupted by the throbbing pain in his arm
Men in Lolzi Air Force uniforms rushed in, and Revornik thought he was saved. His heart sank as he realized they were wheeling missile-carts behind them.
Oh God...
They were in the Vault now. The men shoved him into an empty corner, far away from the switch for the lockdown alarm. One of the false airmen stood guard, pointing a suppressed sub-machine gun at his head as the others went to work. Some were loading the high-powered weapons onto the carts, while a few more were...

OH GOD.

Revornik watched as a cutting torch sparked up in the room, but had to avert his eyes from the brilliant blue flame. They were cutting into the nuclear core of the device...the only reason they would be doing that would be to...to...detonate it. Revornik decided he had to do something.

He made a break for it, crashing into his captor with a football tackle. It jarred his fractured elbow, but he clenched his teeth through the pain as he ran by, not taking the time to even flip the alarm switch. He knew it would be too easy to undo, compared to flagging someone down outside. Just as he rushed through the lazily flapping doors of the bomb storage, he heard a voice behind him shouting in a language he didn't comprehend.
It sounds Armedlandian, but it didn't sound like he was telling them to shoot...sounded like he was saying not to!

He dared to turn his head around, and what he saw confounded him. His original captor was pointing the gun right at him, but he wasn't shooting. He looked more confused and worried than angry...as if Revornik's escape had disrupted an intricate plan.
Maybe it did! Maybe they planned to keep me alive so they could fucking BLAME me!
As he turned his head back to the airfield, he saw something equally confounding; he hadn't even signaled to anyone yet, but there was a column of black sedans tearing down the edge of the runway, the unmistakable sirens and lights of Interior Ministry security forces going full-blast.
He lunged around the corner of an aircraft hangar, and watched as the sedans roared past, easily at eighty miles an hour. He saw that nobody was trying to flee from the bunker, so he turned back around to assist, grabbing a length of steel rebar from the ground as he ran. As he approached the building, he still didn't hear shots being fired, even though the first two car-loads of Lolzi men had already gone in, and the others were circling the building with all manners of pistols, shotguns, sub-machine guns, and rifles.

One of the suited men loudly announced, "MHB, keep back, sir!", and Revornik did just that. One of them walked over with a first aid kit, though, and began tending to his splintered arm. Within a few minutes, the agents emerged from the bunker, with all of the suspects in tow. He looked at the man who had identified himself as an agent of the Ministry of National Security, and asked, "How'd you know to come?"
The man stared daggers at him, though his eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses.
"Last-minute tip."


Camp Czarina, Central Lolzieristan
Twelve hours later

The video-cameras were rolling, and the man's face clearly revealed what had happened since the incident in the munitions bunker. The beatings had started only seconds after they had pulled the ski mask off, and had reoccurred rather frequently for hours. He was reading from a script, one that he had numbly agreed to, since he didn't have the energy required to think it all himself.

"My name is Jack Stenson, and I was sent to Lolzieristan to conduct a mission for my employers, the Armedlandian government. I was given a team and ordered to steal tactical nuclear weapons from Golitsyngrad Air Force Base, and then detonate one to cover our tracks. I was not told why. I have conducted operations like this many times in Lolzi territory, under Armedlandian employment as well."


Lolzi City, Lolzieristan
Presidential Manor

President Beslavaky was shouting with anger, and also fear.
"What do you mean, we just barely stopped this! Why would they even do this, Boris?"

The man on his right responded quickly and fluently.
"We believe it was a deliberate attempt to neutralize our military capabilities in a preventative manner, before we declared war on them as well."
"Why the hell would we do that, though! What made them think we would?"
"They saw our mobilization as intent. Simple as that."
"Well then, we'll have to retaliate, WON'T WE!"

The Director of the Ministry of National Security, Boris Krewinskowicz, looked away from the President for a second, just so the subtle but involuntary evil grin would go undetected.
He believes it.
Perfect.

[Prizyetsa]

(OOC: I apologize for the less-than-acceptable quality of this post. I just kind of threw it together…)

Skillia, Modified Hai Class Nuclear Submarine, Armedland Territorial Waters

The modified Hai class submarine glided through the water, slowly weaving itself through several obstacles, heading towards it’s target at a snail’s pace. The sub had gone under several modifications to make it ready to carry out covert operations. First of all, the propeller system had been modified to reduce noise as much as possible, and a propeller cover had been placed to reduce prop noise even further. Several adjustments to the hull had been carried out, which streamlined the vessel further as well. On top of all this, the sub had had it’s acoustic-absorbing coat replaced a month earlier, allowing it time to settle and form to the new hull of the ship. The final adjustment to the ship was a new electric squad-sized mini-sub, which could be launched from a compartment which had been made by sacrificing 4 of the sub’s missile pods to create one continuous space. The small mini-sub could carry up to 6 men and their supplies at a speed of 15 knots over 50km at almost perfect silence. The Skillia was the perfect covert-ops weapon.

In the sub’s ops room, Svert team was briefed on the mission. It would be a simple in-out sabotage mission aimed at stores, barracks and docking facilities, especially for the Ladanja submarines if possible, which although they weren’t a direct threat, could still do some damage to the coming landings and had to be neutralized. The team’s secondary objective was to obtain any information about the surrounding area such as troop movement or positions although most, if not all of the fighting was up North on the Sovietyeto border. The team was handed combat knives, hatchets and silenced pistols in C&M caliber, silenced. If push were to come to shove, the team carried CDSP issue submachine guns, which were also silenced for stealth.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good morning. Tonight, we’ll be hitting this port, which we’ve designated as ‘PASCHA’, for easy recognition. Our point of entry is here, the Southern dock, which according to satellite imaging and high altitude surveillance is currently in use with one of our Ladas. She’ll be one of our primary objectives, and I want her looking like Kravat cheese by dawn, okay?” The team leader asked with a smile. Everyone laughed and nodded, “Aye sir.” “Good. After this, we will head to the supply shed, here.” He said, pointing as a satellite image. The supply shed was right next to the dock, and would be an easy target for Svert team. “After this, we split up into two groups, one, led by myself, will hit the fuel storage tanks on the far side of the facility while the other contingency will be led by Hellan, and will hit the barracks, located here, 80m from the dock. After this, we’ll meet up and take out the sub pen located adjacent to our point of entry. Any questions on the order of things?” he asked, looking at the rest of the 6 man crew. “Good, I didn’t think so. All charges will be set to 4 am, no earlier, or we might not have enough time to escape, and should be rigged with anti-tampering devices. As Hellan mentioned earlier, lead-shot AP mines do a wonderful job at this.” Hellan smiled when he mentioned the use of the especially brutal AP-098 mine, which was one of her personal favorites. “We’ll ride in together as soon as we’re all set.” He finished, sensing that there were no more questions. “Oh, one more thing” he decided to add. “No radio communications, we will do this silent. Another thing, we will not have air support. We probably won’t need it anyways.” The team nodded, and went to the ship’s armory to suit up.

Armedland Naval Facility, Southern Armedland

The night was silent, with the only sound being that of the waves rolling up against the military harbor’s dock. The moon reflected off of the thousands of tiny wave tips, dancing forward to get a brief glimpse of the moon before rolling back beneath the surface and slamming up against the dock. While the night seemed peaceful, the waves hid a dangerous threat, which kurked right beneath the water. The mini-sup silently slipped into the dock, right underneath the Ladanja class submarine.

An Armedlandi guard sat, his feet up on the table where a TV sat displaying the weather forecast for the coming week, smoking a cigarette while waiting for his shift to finish. Deep down, he wished he had been stationed up North, where he could fight for his country instead of being in some guard post at a quiet military port. “What navy do we even have?” he asked himself, taking in a deep drag. He glanced up at the clock, who’s hand slowly ticked towards 2 o’clock, when he could go back to his barracks and get some sleep. He stood up and gathered his things, humming along to the patriotic song playing on the TV set. Putting on his helmet, he reached over to turn the TV off, before walking out of the hut, turning the light off and locking the door. As he turned to do so, something caught his eye, a shadow darting across his peripheral vision. Taking it for a trick of the mind, he turned back to the door, turning the key.

Hellan knelt in the shadows, waiting for the guard to move. In her hand, she held a Kallïn, a traditional knife from the Northern regions of Prizyetsa used to cut meat after a hunt. The blade was black, and curved sharply downwards toward the end of the blade. It was her favorite weapon, since it was the only weapon she knew would do it’s job every single time she wanted it to. The soldier started to walk down the road towards the barracks, which was exactly what she had anticipated. Staying in the shadows and remaining completely silent, she snuck up behind the man and in a lightning-quick motion, wrapped her hand over his mouth, and shoved the tip of the blade deep into his back. Hearing the crunching of his ribs as the knife dug it’s way into the soldier, she yanked it about, rupturing the man’s right lung and cutting into his heart. Her hand muffled the agonizing screams of pain, as she yanked her knife out of the man again, dropping him slowly to the floor. With her hand still over his mouth, she turned his body to face her, as she licked some of the blood off of the blade and smiled. The man looked up in a mix of pain and horror as she rested the knife on his neck. Coughing up blood, he tried to call for his mother, before Hellan’s knife tore through his throught, slicing through his vocal chords silencing his pleas for help. She watched on as he slowly lost color in his face, the last drops of his life’s essence gushing from the wounds she had inflicted. She knelt down over the slowly dying body and pulled out a pendant from around her neck. Kissing it, she whispered, “May you accept this man’s soul into the kingdom hereafter, regardless of the sins he has committed in his earthly form. Erya, Maya, Tholas, please grant this man peace.” She closed the man’s eyes, and stood up. She motioned her team into the alleyway and moved on to their target.

The captain’s men moved silently through the warehouses until they reached an open field, occupied by a sole run-down building. Viewing the field with infra-red goggles, he was convinced that it was empty and ordered his team to quickly move up across the road. Once in the field, the fuel storage would be a mere 80 meters away. He decided to play it safe, and crawl across the field, keeping low and quiet, in order not to get caught. As soon as they reached the other end of the field, he pulled out a map of the facility from his bag, looking at the exact locations of each tower and the relative patrol paths of the soldiers. Satisfied that he knew where everything was, he called up his marksmen, Yelena, who lay next to him with her suppressed rifle in her hands. He lay in front of her, and she rested her rifle on the back of his pack, as he pulled out a compass to tell her where the targets were. He could feel every twitch the rifle made, and knew she was ready when the rifle sat perfectly still. Measuring the angle with the compass, he directed her to the first target. “30 degrees left, guard tower. Fire when ready.” There was a short pause, which was interrupted by a clicking sound, and the jerking of the rifle on his back. “Target eliminated.” Was all she said. The captain looked back at his map and called out the next target. “50 degrees right, guard tower. Fire when ready.” He felt a bead of sweat run down his face, and heard every blade of shrub-grass sway in the light wind. He was one with the world, which seemed to slow down around him as he waited for Yelena to fire. Again, the simultaneous click and jerk was felt on his back, followed by the calm, “Target down.” a brief moment later. The process was repeated several times more, until all targets had been eliminated down below. Yelena slowly crawled away with her rifle.

Hellan’s team quickly moved up to the barracks, and crawled underneath the pre-fabricated modular building and placed their explosives with the booby-traps under every container. After 15 minutes or so, the team had finished, and set the charges for 4:00 am sharp, just as they’d done with the rest of the charges they’d set throughout the facility. Next stop was the weapons storage warehouses near the extraction zone, and the sub pen, which they would disable, if not permanently destroy. Hellan looked around, making sure there were no guards patrolling the area, and jet across the street, back into the shadows. One by one, her other 2 team members followed, and they proceeded to snake their way to the warehouse which stored the Prizyetsi sized rounds which made the subs possible to operate, or at least fight.
As they walked through the ally-way, Hellan raised her hand, signaling the team to stop and drop to the side of the alleyway. Up ahead, two Armedlandian guards were talking, smoking their cigarettes together. Hellan frowned, and put her knife away, and retrieved the submachine gun she carried. Ordering Harald up, also armed with his submachine gun, they lay prone next to eachother, ready to fire on Hellan’s command. Before she could squeeze the trigger, a shadow dashed across the road, and the two guards fell to the ground, bleeding from their torsos. “What the…” Hellan cursed under her breath. Slowly, she moved up, watching out for the unknown man who had just murdered the two Armedlandian soldiers. Satisfied that there was no sign of the figure, Hellan moved her team out to hide the bodies, then into the warehouse, where they set the charges on crates of explosive shells and torpedoes. “Such a shame these are going to waste.” She sighed as she places the mines on the side of one of the crates with a trip line attached across the floor. One of her team-mates came up to her, hiding the explosives with another crate. “Shame about that Lada too…” they both smiled. “You think we’ll get to watch?” she asked the young soldier. “Who knows Hellan.” He replied. All of a sudden, they all heard footsteps coming from outside, and they all ducked behind the crates. An Armedlandian soldier walked into the warehouse and looked around. A whistling sound flew through the air, and a loud thud was heard. Hellan looked around the corner, and to her amusement, the soldier hung from the wall by a harpoon which had been shot through his forehead. “Damn.” She thought out loud. She heard footsteps from behind her, and she instinctively turned around to meet the threat with her weapon shouldered. “Drop it!” she yelled to the woman, who slowly walked out of the warehouse’s shadows. “Calm down there, Hellan, was it?” Hellan switched off the safety. “Who are you?” she demanded to know from the woman with the harpoon launcher. Another voice called out, “Drop the weapon.”, and Harald stood up, shouldering his weapon and facing the new voice. “Come out now!” he shouted. From the shadows, a pair of eyes emerged, slowly coming forward. “Watch where you point that thing.” The man said, as he became visible, his hands just barely in the air. Harald looked the man over, and noted that his red hair was held up by a pair of goggles, and that he looked Harald straight in the eye. “Who the fuck are you?” Harald demanded as the figure slowly walked towards him. The man smiled, and lowered his hands. “You can lower your weapon, it seems we’re on the same side.” Confused, Harald kept his weapon leveled and aimed at the man’s chest. The man sighed. “You’re one stubborn bastard aren’t you? We’re Kauvaran.” He said, waving his hand through his long red hair. “And I’m not sure how long you set your charges for, but ours are about to go off…” Harald lowered his weapon and looked over at Hellan, who looked back at him. Hellan turned to the red headed male. “When were they supposed to go off?” The man smiled and raised his arm to look at his watch. “Right… about… now.” Hellan looked at him in disbelief. Right then, a series of loud explosives rocked several buildings around their own, knocking Hellan and Harald to the ground. The red-headed man laughed out loud. “I told you I could set explosives like a boss.” The woman sighed and lowered her harpoon gun, pulling a fresh harpoon from a satchel around her waist. “Whatever. Let’s get out of here, we’re already late as it is.” She called over to the red headed man. “Yes mother.” He said with a smug grin on his face as he straightened out his jacket. “What’s your exit plan? You kind of fucked up ours.” Hellan asked the woman. The woman said nothing, walking past the two Administratii soldiers, and out into the night. Hellan motioned for Harald to follow her, as they made their way over towards their next target: the sub pen.

The captain and his team had just finished placing the charges and hiding the Armedlandi bodies, giving them funeral rights. It wasn’t a proper funeral, but they’d make it into the netherworld peacefully, as every soldier should. Svert squad was overly spiritual, even for most Northern Prizyetsis, where people still lived by the old pagan religions. The captain had made it clear that every person they killed deserved honorable funeral rights, his reasoning being that they’d expect the same.
After the team met up to move on to the next objective, a huge fireball lit up a section of the base, and was followed by a huge thunderous shock-wave which nearly knocked the team off of their feet. “What the hell was that?!” the captain yelled, getting up and brushing the dust off of himself. “I’d say its high time to get the hell out of here, huh?” he said to Yelena, who looked at the explosion through her sniper scope. “That explosion didn’t come from one of our objectives.” The captain looked at her with a slightly puzzled look. “What does that mean?” Yelena lowered her rifle. “It means we should get out of here.” The captain nodded, agreeing with the sharpshooter’s senses, and he motioned the third member of the team forward. “We’re moving out. Set up a flare here, with a 5 minute timer. That should buy us some time to get the hell out of here, and allow the Armedlandi soldiers to get their comrades’ bodies out of here. Set the charges back to 2 am.” The soldier nodded and darted off. “Shit.” The captain though out loud. Just then, the sound of wailing sirens and a myriad of spotlights came on, laminating the night sky with band of light. “Okay, let’s go, and lets go now.” He called out, sprinting towards the buildings which were just across the clearing. Accelerating with every footstep, he seemed to be flying towards the buildings. Behind him, Yelena and Sven ran as fast as they could, trying to maintain the small but important intervals that they were taught to in training. Finally, they crossed the clearing, kneeling up against the building. They could all feel the burn in their legs, having ran 100 meters in under 10 seconds. This was an impressive feat, even among athletes, but it was something the Administratii were taught to do. “We all good?” the captain asked the two soldiers under his command. Both gave him the thumbs up, the sign that they were ready to move on. “Alrighty then.” The captain said, before disappearing into the alleyway between two warehouses.

Hellan stood watch as Harald set the charges on one of the dock cranes which serviced the sub pen. The charges would be set so that they would topple the crane into the pen, temporarily taking it out of commission. Hellan kept watch from atop the nearest warehouse, from where she had a good view of the roads leading to their position. She also had a good view of the fire which burnt out of control across the compound. ”Who the hell were those people…” she thought to herself, watching out for any approaching Armedlani soldiers. The two figures who claimed to be Kauvaran plagued her mind. “Who are they? What are they doing here?” she kept asking herself.
Finally, she got the signal that the charges were ready. As she was climbing down, the sound of an emergency flare found its way to her ears, and a streak of red light illuminated the sky above the oil drums. “A sign from captain.” She said under her breath. Sliding the rest of the way down the crane, she landed on the ground, rifle in hand. “Captain has just set off a flare, it’s time to go.” She told her crew. Nodding, they got up and started their way down the pier towards the docked Ladanja.

The captain covered his men as they silently slipped into the water, and swam down to the mini-sub, there their scuba gear lie in wait for them. Right as he was about to slide in himself, Hellan came running around the corner with her team, hot in pursuit by Armedlandi soldiers and guards alike. Every now and then, Hellan would turn around, and fire a burst of her submachine gun to scatter their pursuers. Out of nothing, a bald man appeared from the shadows with an electric rod, beating down the Armedlandi soldiers, while another man appeared, armed with a pistol. He shot off several rounds, each dropping one of the soldiers, who at this point opted to find shelter. Finishing off the few remaining soldiers, they walked to the Captain, who gave cover to Hellan and her men. Standing up, the captain reached out his hand. “Thank you. We owe you one.” The man with the pistol smiled. “Indeed you do.” There was a momentary pause. “I’m captain Allan Tjendar, Prizyetsi Administratii.” He nodded. “I thought so. My name is Tsven Tetsuo. All I can tell you is that we’re friends.” Allan nodded. “I understand.” He did. He knew what it was like to not be able to tell people what you do for a living, or even who you really are. He gathered his composure. “What’s your exit strategy? Tsven frowned. “That Ladanja was our plan, but it seems that its on your shopping list, huh?” Allan nodded. “You and your team need a ride?” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I guess so.” Right as he said this, the two other figures appeared, the red-hear and the blonde girl. Allan instinctively raised his weapon. “They’re with me.” Tsven said. Nodding, Allan lowered his weapon. “Right this way lady and gentlemen.” Allan said, motioning them to the water. The blonde hesistated for a moment, but then jumped in. Last in the water was Allan, who with one last sweep of the area made his way into the water.
Quickly maneuvering the sub down the length of the Ladanja class submarine, the team placed their charges, and was on their way. Looking at his watch, Allan noted that it was 02:47. 13minutes to go. Once they were a decent distance away, and out of the interest of the Armedlandi soldiers who were busy looking for them on the docks, the mini-sub slowly drifted up towards the surfaced. Once the top of the hull but a few centimeters above the water, they opened the hatch to look outside. Allan looked at his watch. 02:59. “Perfect” he said, looking out over the water, which had the reflection of the raging fire created by the Kauvaran explosives. “Three… Two… One.” He said quietly. Just as he said one, a series of explosions rocked the base, lighting it up even more, and sending a shockwave across the water, filling the air with the smell of burning fuel. “Beauty, eh?” Allan said with a smug grin on his face. Crawling back into the mini-sub, he activated their encoded GPS-beacon, which would bring the sub.

Skillia

Once onboard the Skillia, all of the soldiers were offered warm, dry clothes to replace their wet soggy gear and the Kauvaran suits. Sitting in the officer’s mess, they all held up glasses of Kiërran, a Prizyetsi liquor made of apples, which they toasted to their success. “En, ta, tre, upskalia’ni!” the Administratii operatives shouted before downing their kiërran. The Kauvarans shared glances at eachother, before attempting to down their drinks. Elena, the female Kauvaran attempted to down her kiërran, but gagged on its way down, and spit it out. “How the hell do you drink this?!” she shouted. The Prizyetsi operatives and the Kauvarans all laughed as she tried to wash out the bitter taste from her mouth with the can of water. “So, where would you guys like to go?” said a man in a dark grey navy uniform. The man was in his late fifties, and sported a large white beard. In his shoulders and cuffs, he sported the rank markings of a rear-admiral. “Well?”

@Armedland
This was not written with the intention to godmod. Not at all. I tok into consideration that you would have been busy in the north, with Soviet, while the southern reaches of Armedland would be left relatively un-attended. Further more, I struck early in the morning, when your soldiers would be least prepared to respond.
Also keep in mind that you don’t know who hit you. I assume that you’d think that it was the Soviets, since tey are the only one you’re at war with.

[Kommandoria]

Deep within the Krieg Grid...

The High Generals of every branch had gathered once again in the central control room. Klaus von Auberwitz, as usual, sat at the head of the table. Smoke from his ice tobacco cigar lingered around his head, much like clouds linger around mountains. He read through reports of the Deus-V's actions. An oil refinery completed annihilated within the span of a few minutes? Hmm. Acceptable. Leaving emptied ammo cartridges as evidence? Acceptable. Whether or not the world knew Kommandoria was responsible, Klaus did not care. Klaus believed stealth was indeed an invaluable tactic, but he employed it in his own fashion. Rather than simply hide in the shadows at all times, Klaus believed one should use stealth merely to gain a better tactical position. Upon achieving this, a massive surprise attack could be launched, thus leaving no enemy alive to even hide from. There was no doubt in Klaus' mind that the Kauvarans already knew who was responsible and what had happened. Their intelligence department was immaculate, but unfortunately, that was the only thing about the Kauvarans that impressed Klaus. Well, then again, their air force was one to be reckoned with. But on the other hand, no war has ever been won through sheer aerial prowess. Klaus digressed. It was time to reveal just who Armedland was dealing with.

Klaus stood up, and every High General in the room immediately stood in unison as well. There was little light in the room, besides the neon blue lights that shone from the electronics that adorned every wall. The eyes of the officers were hidden in shadow by the brim of their field hats. Klaus cleared his throat.

Auberwitz: Gentlemen, I have gathered you all here today to make a grand announcement. The cloak of the thief has been cast aside. He has traded his dagger for a claymore. And his eyes burn with a passion unlike any other. The thief is Kommandoria. Indeed, the cold war against Armedland has ended. Now, we shall make a statement. The Royal Kyzar has authorized Oscar Protocol. The High Admirals in the room should know what this means. Now, the battle plan. The Omega Fleet will be escorting the R.K.S. Hephaestus and the 14th Wolf Pack to the southwestern gulf of Armedland. The fleet will also be carrying our primary invasion force, which will be deployed after the shore has been thoroughly bombarded. The 17th Kombat Zeppelin Fleet will also be carrying a secondary invasion force which will be deployed after a beachhead has been established. Afterwards, the zeppelins will provide high-altitude bombardment. Switchblades will be launched from our carriers to provide close air support. For those of you wondering, our friends at Carpathia and Moldova's Chrome Industries are currently working on a new multirole fighter for us to replace the Switchblade with. The Deus-V will be assisting the invasion forces by continuing their acts of sabotage. As for the Hephaestus, it will be stationed offshore as a failsafe. Should the Armedlandicans resist our might, they will be put down like the foreign dogs they are. Any questions?

High General Dimitri Ravashka: Sir.

Auberwitz: Speak.

Ravashka: Will we be conquering new lands? Or plundering? Or...?

Auberwitz: Glad you asked. This is a war of devastation. Our goal is to raze their lands until they no longer threaten our position as the dominant economic power of this world. Plunder is optional. Just burn the place to the ground when your men have had their fill of loot.

Ravashka: Understood.

Auberwitz: Good. Good. Assemble our forces. The invasion begins in twenty-four hours. Heil der Kyzar!

All High Generals in unison: Heil der Kyzar!



KOMMANDORIAN ORBAT

GRAND ARMY
262nd SI Invasionary Korps (30,000 troops)
195th SZI Invasionary Korps (25,000 troops)
101st HK Invasionary Division (10,000 troops)
259th Armored Kavalry Regiment (3,000 tanks)
287th Artillery Support Battalion (300 artillery vehicles/batteries)

GRAND NAVY

1st Omega Fleet (1 TPD, 2 aircraft carriers [each with 48 Switchblades], 4 battleships, 8 destroyers, 8 submarines)
14th Wolf Pack (1 mega-submarine, 4 submarines)

GRAND SKY FLEET

17th Kombat Zeppelin Fleet (3 Kombat Zeppelins)
164th Multirole Squadron (24 Switchblades)
138th Multirole Squadron (24 Switchblades)

[Isolated China]

Dibs after both of them post.

[Scocialist Provinces]

Shore was tired. He was on the Dictator's flight to China, taking the elongated route, avoiding soviet airspace. Shore stretched himself out and peered out the window to his left. Several Frogfoot multirole fighters alongside their own. It was an aerial convoy, with the most satirical leader in the Darklands right in the middle. Shore looked to his right, where Armand Kiriolenko sat, enjoying an game of poker with Rosser and Rechunski. In the seat before him, Minchau sat with his assault rifle tucked close to his chest. It had been three hours so far, and many more to come.

"Yo. Minchau." Shore leant out of his seat, and prodded his buddy.

"Hey, Max, you look exhausted. More so than the time you took two bullets, took out a Kanthan unit with an old revolver and crawled out of the malice swamps with a leg that didn't work. You almost died in there, buddy. You look pretty fucked up." Minchau joked

"I can't be that bad. Hell, you don't look that energetic either." Shore laughed back.

"Eh, it's that new chick we got in our squad to replace Rosser. Now that he's in charge, and all. What was her name again?" Minchau asked shore, slouching into the isle.

"Kiara, I think. Quite the... Assets, eh?"

"Oh, fuck you. She's hot as hell, single, might I add."

"That doesn't mean available. Sounds like you've got a thing for her, Grayson. Only problem is, she'll snap you in two if you make a move. She's a tough bitch."

"You catch on quick. But yeah. Kiara doesn't seem that friendly. In her background report--"

"Wait, you read her report!? Heh, Minchau, you desprate son of a bitch!"

"Eh, whatever. Anyways, it said Kiara was originally a Ghost. One of the government's political watchdogs."

"The Ghosts? Aren't they the ones that killed off everyone in the Fascist party when they got too powerfull!?"

"That's them. It says here that Kiara did half the killing! It also mentions she did so with a butcher knife and a piano wire. Fucking nasty stuff."

"That's awesome. Maybe she'll stab you to death if you look at her funny."

"Ah, piss off, shore."

As the two squadmates quit talking to eachother, someone popped their torso over the seat in front of Minchau. It was Kiara. She was grinning.

"So you read my portfolio, mister Minchau. How insightfull of you." Kiara sarcastically notioned, leaning over his seat.

"Y-you were there the whole time?!" Minchau shuddered in humiliation and fear.

"Hell yeah I was. I also see you've got reasons to love and hate me. Just where I want ya'." Kiara chuckled, purposely imposing herself over Minchau.


Kiara was right. She was the CDSPian definition of beautiful, and the global definition of a hard-ass bitch. Lust and fear conflicted like magnets, but it made her even more attractive. A prize achieved through danger and a lot of intelligent decisions. One wrong move, and she's gone. Reminded Shore of Dunn.

Damn it, he missed her. It had been years since he'd heard Dunn's voice, longer since he'd seen her in person. Getting Armand to pull some strings, the most Shore knew was she that Dunn was on some space exploration team, but that was it. Shore was pissed off with Kauvara. All the fucking secrecy, all the fucking theories, all the fucking politics. No-one outside their government even know what happend in there for hundreds of years. The western world must suck.

Snapping back to reality, Shore realized that Minchau and Kiara had been flirting in a manner he had never seen before. They were throwing insults at eachother, but in an oddly seductive manner.


"Honey, have you ever killed anyone? I mean, you're tough looking and all, but can you actually kill someone?" Kiara smirked and propped her near-perfect cleavage on top of her seat.

"More that you, no doubt. After all, I've been in the best organization in this damned nation for many years more than the pretty girl with the butcher knife. You're the initiate here!" Minchau shot back in a cross between seduction and anger.

Max smiled and laughed to himself. He pulled his cap over his eyes and slipped deeper into the plane seat. Shore placed both his hands over his stomach and slowly fell asleep, remembering back when politics were not important, when life was simple. When he had Dunn.

[The Sovietyeto]

ROUND SUMMARY COMING SOON...

[Kaligula]

The line was long, and it was making Minister Argus Rahl quite upset. All these kids wanted to take their damn time taking pictures and talking to Mickey Mouse. Disneyland China was very impressive, the Minister admitted, however there should be some damn crowd control.
Argus motioned to his bodyguards who had been holding is icecream cone and the stuffed Pluto toy he had won in a rigged darts game. The largest bodyguard handed the merchandise and the icecream to his assistant and moved through the line-pushing children and parents out of the way so that Argus could make his way to front.
The man in the Mickey Mouse costume protested in Mandrin as Fritz (His chief bodyguard) picked up and placed aside the child that was sitting in Mickey's lap. Argus moved next to Mickey and motioned him to stand. The mouse glanced at Fritz, who gave him a cold look, and Mickey stood next to Argus and tentatively put his hand on his sholder.
Argus quickly removed the overly sized gloved and and glared at the man in costume. They both stood solemnly and stared at the camera that the other bodyguard was holding.

*Click*

"Lets go, I want to ride the tea cup ride before it closes" said Rahl.
They left as the Minister lit a cigarette.

[Lolzieristan]

I'm laying claim to this real estate here...

[Armedland]

Near Richard Armedland memorial, Measek
12:00 AM

As soon as the reports of the massacre came in, the police, military, and government were put in shock. Measek metropolitan area police chief Measek Oraze. He arrives at the scene of the massacre, with hundreds of government “Sora” surrounding the area. Sora were the most elite military under the snakes, and were famous for their brutality and lack of emotion.
He examines the reports by civilian witnesses. The entire situation didn’t make a damned ounce of sense. How was it possible that the apparently Carpathian terrorists were not accurate enough to kill a single civilian, and manage to waste hundreds of bullets on trying to shoot them, and then go outside and be able to destroy an entire small army with these weapons?
A police-man runs over. “Sir, I have a casualty report. Knives and guns weren’t only used to kill these soldiers.”
“So? What was it? Spit it out, Mitchell.”
Mitchell stutters a bit before saying the grim words. “A…a longsword.”
“What?”
“A longsword of some kind, sir. Some of them were killed by sword wound.”
Hours later, police headquarters, Measek
Everyone in the station just wanted to know who could have possibly done this crime. The Carpathians were obviously a major suspect, but a major question was the longsword, and why would these soldiers become so bad at shooting that they couldn’t kill a single civilian, and then good enough to destroy a small army?
The real question was…Who could have pulled this off?

Port
8:00 PM

The damage report is bad, all around the port. Of course, it’s obvious who did it considering the explosives used, but nonetheless, the loss of two nuclear subs is the last thing the Armedlandian navy needs. It’s a grim scene…
(OOC: I assumed you destroyed the rest of the port as well)

Armedlandian-Soviet border
9:00 PM
Frost’s troops have begun air raids on the besieged town. AK-47s, AR-15s, and various foreign arms have been popular around the military camp of 7,000.
The Soviet force of just a few hundred is still fighting hard, and refusing to give up. The Armedlandians had set up machine-gun nests, with M2 Brownings lining the streets. The vital trade route to be captured would be vital for the war effort.

[Prizyetsa]

Near Richard Armedland memorial, Measek
12:00 AM

As soon as the reports of the massacre came in, the police, military, and government were put in shock. Measek metropolitan area police chief Measek Oraze. He arrives at the scene of the massacre, with hundreds of government “Sora” surrounding the area. Sora were the most elite military under the snakes, and were famous for their brutality and lack of emotion.
He examines the reports by civilian witnesses. The entire situation didn’t make a damned ounce of sense. How was it possible that the apparently Carpathian terrorists were not accurate enough to kill a single civilian, and manage to waste hundreds of bullets on trying to shoot them, and then go outside and be able to destroy an entire small army with these weapons?
A police-man runs over. “Sir, I have a casualty report. Knives and guns weren’t only used to kill these soldiers.”
“So? What was it? Spit it out, Mitchell.”
Mitchell stutters a bit before saying the grim words. “A…a longsword.”
“What?”
“A longsword of some kind, sir. Some of them were killed by sword wound.”
Hours later, police headquarters, Measek
Everyone in the station just wanted to know who could have possibly done this crime. The Carpathians were obviously a major suspect, but a major question was the longsword, and why would these soldiers become so bad at shooting that they couldn’t kill a single civilian, and then good enough to destroy a small army?
The real question was…Who could have pulled this off?

Port
8:00 PM

The damage report is bad, all around the port. Of course, it’s obvious who did it considering the explosives used, but nonetheless, the loss of two nuclear subs is the last thing the Armedlandian navy needs. It’s a grim scene…
Armedlandian Snake base #11 INTELLIGENCE REPORT
CONFIDENTIAL
Snake #001: We have reports on some sort of Kommondorian boarding action on our ports in the south
How large
Big. At least a hundred thousand soldiers
Damn it This is really, really bad Why is the President still not here
He’s in China, or some shit. Who really knows, these days-I know we’re the greatest nation on this planet, but who really knows how good this planet is? The gods are on our sides, and we can take refuge in that, at least
Meas preserve us
END

Armedlandian-Soviet border
9:00 PM
Frost’s troops have begun air raids on the besieged town. AK-47s, AR-15s, and various foreign arms have been popular around the military camp of 7,000.
The Soviet force of just a few hundred is still fighting hard, and refusing to give up. The Armedlandians had set up machine-gun nests, with M2 Brownings lining the streets. The vital trade route to be captured would be vital for the war effort.

OOC Nuclear subs? Lada's are diesel electric boats sir, take a look...

[The Sovietyeto]

OOC: Armedland is unlikely to know either way.

[Kaligula]

>>>Encryption level 1<<<
To: Minister Argus Rahl
From: The Controller's Office
Sub: Your vacation


Greetings Minister,
We have received your updates of the status of the peace talks, since it appears they have been postponed/cancelled, we think (you would certainly agree) that it would be a better use of your time to return to your duties in Kaligula. Furthermore the Controller has suggested that any future peace-talks or meetings in China will be handled by your secretary, or your secretary's secretary. We have sent your new plane down to pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Your jet will now have the fuel capacity to make it from China to Kaligula without any stops. There will be a 4 fighter escort of course. Thank you for your patience in this matter and we look forward to your safe return.

Ave,

Controller Secretary Mikeal Brons

>>>End Transmission<<<

[Kommandoria]

In the Gulf of Shahlamad, 300 miles from the southwestern shore of Armedland...

The Omega Fleet had finally arrived at its staging area. It was just outside of Armedland's maritime claims, making final preparations. The sea was calm, but adorned with a handful of massive ships surrounded by hundreds of smaller ships. 30,000 feet above the sea were the gigantic Kombat Zeppelins. From a sailor's point of view, the mighty zeppelins looked tiny due to their altitude. Below the Omega Fleet were several submarines escorting the huge R.K.S. Hephaestus. The colossal engines of the Hephaestus bellowed loudly for miles. High Admiral Vito DiBartolo stood at the bridge of the recently repaired R.K.S. Blood Ruby, the flagship of the Omega Fleet and the pride of the entire Kommandorian Grand Navy. He had spread out a map of Armedland over a desk and was scrawling notes on it with a red marker. The port they were going for was a medium-sized city called "Aba Iulia." Hmph. Such a pretty name for a city that would soon be reduced to smoldering ashes. The Hephaestus was already in range with most of its weapons. From this distance, it could strike the port with small swarms of large missiles. It could easily strike the port, if necessary, with thermobaric warheads. However, it would need to move in about 150 miles in order to fire with full effect. The Blood Ruby and the rest of the Omega Fleet would be in maximum effective range within 100 to 75 miles. Very well then. DiBartolo had come up with a plan.

The R.K.S. Hephaestus and its submarine packs would hang to the rear, opening up the invasion by firing long range rocket strikes. Meanwhile, the Omega Fleet would advance and commence close range bombardments. Overhead, the Kombat Zeppelin fleet would begin ultra-high altitude bombings. After approximately two hours of heavy bombardment, the landing ships would begin their advance towards the shore. DiBartolo grabbed the nearest radio and explained the battleplan. The Omega Fleet started to close the distance between it and Aba Iulia. The Hephaestus and its submarine packs rose to the surface to prepare launch sequences. The man in charge of the Hephaestus was High Kaptain Allistair van Silvers. The man wore a black, wool turtleneck that was smothered in ribbons given to him for his valor. He was a Kommandorian aristocrat unlike any other. While other Kommandorian aristocrats preferred to show off their wealth in any way they could, he preferred the simpler things in life. Unlike Tobias Rudolph, who smoked ice tobacco in an ivory pipe that was sculptured to look like a Kommandorian colonial frigate, Allistair van Silvers smoked regular tobacco imported from Kauvara in an old-fashioned corn cob pipe. While other wore shiny silver pocketwatched with long, shimmering chains, he preferred a leather wristwatch with copper hands. Aye, he was a humble man in every way, except for his acts of courage and bravery in war, which he showed through his various ribbons.

Silvers: What's our oxygen status?

Crewman: We have enough to last about 6 hours underwater.

Silvers: Good, good. Ammunitions?

Crewman: All set, sir.

Silvers: Silo bays? Blast doors?

Crewman: Silo bays are at acceptable temperatures. Blast doors are fully functional.

Silvers: Excellent! Remember men, we cannot lose. Even if we are repelled by the Armedlandicans, we will not go quietly back into the night! No! We will accept victory! Nothing less!

All crewmen: For Kommandoria! Heil der Kyzar!

The High Kaptain looked at his wristwatch. Thirty seconds until initial rocket strikes would commence. He looked up at the console in front of him. Hundreds of multi-colored buttons and switches flashed brilliantly. Then there was one large red button, surrounded by a yellow-and-black striped rectangle. The button was encased in rectangular glass prism. Next to the case was a small keyhole. Allistair touched the base of his neck. Around his neck was a thin chain from which a very simple silver key dangled. How odd that such a tiny object could instantly end tens of thousands of lives...it astounded him that he held such responsibility. Though he thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of warfare and strategy, there was something that bothered him about such weapons of mass destruction. They seemed...unfair. It was similar to two children playing chess. If the more immature child lost, he would likely flip the board, scattering the pieces. Indeed, this key was the ultimate failsafe. Ah...five seconds now...

Silvers: Prepare to launch long-range missile strikes. Full stock, 180mm incendiary rockets. Grid coordinates X652-Y1779. Fire on my mark.

Crewmen: Missiles ready, sir.

Silvers: Mark!

And with that word, dozens of blast doors hissed open on every submarine. Smoke billowed out of the silos as hundreds of rockets lifted into the sky. In a few minutes, the citizens and troops of Aba Iulia were going to have a very bad day. Meanwhile, the Omega Fleet proceeded to head towards the second staging area...

[Prizyetsa]

The submarine coasted along, just deep enough to allow the advanced sensor suite to be able to function. Other than the natural sound of the waves above the surface, the submarine ran silent, watching, waiting, listening. Deep within the sub's hull, seamen and officers (lol) sat at their stations, watching the Kommandorian fleet as it slowly aproached the Armedlandi coast.

All of a sudden, one of the sailors' hand shot up, signalling for his commanding officer to come to his console. "Vi har en lansering fra den Kommandoriske fløte!" he announced as the officer came behind him. "Mhm. I see, good work." The officer stroked his stubble. This is a little ahead of schedual. He though to himself. Oh well.

The silence in the sub's main corridor was broken by the rythmic footfalls of the officer. Second Lieutenant Ollanson. He made his way through the bulkheads and into the ship's main controll room, where the rear-admiral sat, monitoring the main display screen. The SLt. walked to the side of his chair, clicked his heels and saluted. "Sir a report just came in."

[Kauvara]

OOC: There is really nothing related to the plot in this one. It is more of the SOLDIERs in Armedland (Zachary Stryfe and his mentor, Angel Henner) philosophizing as to their purpose, the purpose of war, and of humanity in general. Just character development. I doubt any of you will read it XD I just got a huge urge to write. This post really only serves to give psychological insights to SOLDIER, as well as be the "calm before the storm," with references to each nation in the conflict and their soldiers

DUNES ALONG THE WATERS OF SHAHLAMAD
ARMEDLAND
23:52 HOURS

The night was beautiful. It was a rarity for Armedland, normally choked with industrial smoke. Only the moon was glowing red from the smoke of the factories. But the fires of war had pulled away many of the workers to serve in the military, and the nation of Armedland actually seemed peaceful. The soldiers that normally roamed the buildings were all away at the front lines. The tanks that ground through the streets had been pulled away to fight the foreign menaces. The roaring of jets was barely audible, only a couple of squadrons running CAP over the sea.

Four of those planes streaked overhead, soaring across the water on their patrol route, their engines leaving bright streaks of brilliant reflection along the surface, contributing to the already beautiful star-lit scene. Zack sighed, running a gloved hand through his black hair as he sat up on a dune with Angel, realizing this peace was a facade. The Armedlandican forces were losing ground. China had gone back into isolation. The CDSP had lost its food source, and collapse seemed imminent. Kaligula had all but pulled out of the war. Soviet soldiers were advancing from the north. The Kommandorian fleet would soon be arriving soon, ready to deliver a swift invasion to the southern borders. Things were looking bleak for the Armedlandicans.

And then there were the Armedlandicans themselves. Essentially bred from birth to believe in nothing but the superiority of their own government... There will be no surrender. In the face of impossible odds, the Armedlandicans will raise their banners high. In the face of impossible odds, the Armedlandicans will marshal their forces. In the face of impossible odds, the Armedlandicans will assemble their greatest heroes. In the face of impossible odds, the Armedlandicans will die to a man. Valiantly, yes. Heroically. But they will die.

"Angel..." Zack breathed, turning to his comrade and mentor. "What's the point...?"
"Eh, Zack? What do you mean?" Angel replied, not looking to him as the glowing, blue eyes that marked him as a SOLDIER First-class stared off into the distance at nothing in particular.
"What's the point of this? Of us? Of the Agency?"
"I'm not sure I follow."
"Our mantra is to defend humanity. To prevent death of innocence in any way we can."
"True. So what's up?"
"We... What is 'innocence,' Angel?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What defines 'innocence?' Open a dictionary, it tells you 'the lack of guilt.' What the fuck does that mean?" The two men laughed, relieving some of the tension that was steadily building. "Angel, who are we to define innocence? Think of the Soviet soldier, who fights to bring wealth and power to his beloved homeland. Think of the Kommandorian soldier, who fights to bring honor to his family and friends, and to gain the grace of their God. Think of the Armedlandican soldier, who fights with such a fervor unseen by even the Spartans of old, defending the nation which defines him. Think of the CDSPian soldier, who fights to satiate his warrior culture, his inner lust for battle. Think of the Prizyetsi soldier, who fights to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Think of the Chinese soldier, who fights to bring glory to his motherland. Think of the Kauvaran soldier, who fights to ensure safety for all."
"What are you getting at?"
"I dunno, man..." Zack cast his gaze down into the sand. "I dunno. Sometimes, I guess our job just feels... contradictory."
"Contradictory?"
"Yeah. I mean, we're supposed to save human lives. To ensure the prosperity of our race in the face of impossible odds. But here we are, almost perpetuating a war. Back at the mausoleum, a couple of days ago, remember the orders those agents had?"

Tension rises

"Yeah, to frame Carpathia and Moldova. Break up the Bucharest Mandate."
"Exactly. Draw another nation into this conflict that is rapidly engulfing the eastern hemisphere."
"In order to preserve greater peace."
"So are you saying the ends justify the means? That we can slaughter so many with the ends of peace later...?" Zack looked back up, his sky-blue eyes piercing into Angel as he turned towards him.
"Zack..." Angel breathed, returning his glowing gaze.
"Who are we to judge them 'guilty,' and that those they come into contact with 'innocent...?' We've appointed ourselves judge, jury, and executioner for so many..."
"Zack."
"We just slaughtered 50 soldiers back in the mausoleum? Why?"
"Zack!"
"All they wanted was to defend their-!"
"ZACK!!!"
"WHAT?!?"

Both men jumped to their feet, sand flourishing around them as they drew their blades. The tension had finally snapped. Zack cried out with a fury Angel had never seen, launching himself at his mentor, his blade slicing into Angel's cheek as he shifted out of the way, small droplets of glowing red blood staining the sand. A flurry of steel. "WHAT IS MY PURPOSE, ANGEL?!?" Clashes of massive swords. "WHY DO I EXIST?!?" Moving faster than any human ever dreaded to witness. "I HAVE NO PURPOSE!!!" A sudden thud as Angel kicked Zack hard in the stomach, casting him down into the sand. With a massive plume of particles, Zack slammed into the dune. Angel stopped standing over him, his blade at Zack's neck. A droplet of blood from his cheek dripped off, landing on Zack's blade with a slight pinging noise. Zack chuckled. Angel followed. Before the two of them knew it, they were laughing, almost hysterically, as Angel helped Zack up. "H-hey, man," Zack laughed. "Looks like my sword finally drew your blood!"
"Ah, don't get cocky, kid!" Angel replied, laughing himself. "Don't get cocky..."

The two SOLDIERs relaxed, looking out over the starlit ocean that would soon unleash so much death."This war, Angel..." Zack choked. "It's going to change a lot... Change the world..."
"Zack..." Angel said, putting his hand on Zack's shoulder. "We can't end war. It's human nature. The desire to expand. The hunger for resources. The pure, primal rush we get from violence. I know you feel it. Wolf take me, I feel it as well. It's called being human. Contrary to what Dr. Hojo and Agent Landus say, we're still human."
"No, Angel..." Zack muttered, looking to the glowing red drops on the sand. "Not anymore..."
"That so?" Angel turned, punching Zack in the jaw, hard.
"What the fuck, man?!?" Zack shouted as he turned back, his blue eyes filled with a glowing fury.
"For one, I owe you for that sword cut. Two... Two, Zack. That reaction seemed pretty human to me."
"What do you mean, Angel?"
"I mean that what courses through our veins doesn't define us as human or not. Nor does it define us as guilty or innocent. Nothing does. People will always feel the hunger for war. That is human nature. That is innocence, in my book. Our job, Zack? Your purpose? It's to ensure the self-destructive nature of humanity does not forever mar and destroy our home. To ensure that this race continues. Because you know what, Zack?"
"What?"
Angel smiled. "Because humans got to where we are, defeating over 100,000 of years of trials, tribulations, and predators, by being the meanest, most savage, most dangerous motherfuckers in the jungle. That is humanity. Dangerous. Vicious. Destructive."
"But if humans are so evil, then why are we worth protecting? Why does the Agency fight?"
"I used to ask myself the same question. When they found Lazard, Sephondis, Genesis, and myself, and Hojo and Landus made us into Firsts... I was thinking the same way you are now. That humans have proven time and time again as being horrible, destructive creatures. Why should I fight to preserve them?"
"So what'd you decide?"
"Zack... I have my reasons. But you need to find your own. Find your reason to fight, Zack, or else you'll die for nothing."

The two men looked out over the dark ocean, the stars reflecting with a blue sparkle, as the smoke-covered moon caused the water to glow red.

[Kaligula]

Moscow
State Employment Agency

"We should be calling you tomorrow about where to be and what time, make sure you bring your commercial driver's license Mr. Brotstrotski." said the nice lady behind the desk, handing Shepard Agent 40 his credentials and CDL back.

"Thank you." said the man identified as Yuri Brotstrotski.
As he left the office he was careful to be mindful of the passerby's, just last week a young man tried to snatch his briefcase. Fortunately, a policeman apprehended him before he made it to the next block. Yuri went to the bus stop and masked his surprise when he found Shepard Agent 045 "Otis Klemp" sitting and reading the paper at the waiting bench.
"Mind if I sit?" Yuri asked in Russian
"Go ahead." said Otis without looking up.
There was a period of 9 minutes in which neither said a word. An old woman sat on the next bench over with her groceries.
"Hows the weather?" asked Otis glancing at Yuri.
"I haven't heard but they say something is coming in tomorrow." sighed Yuri.
"Oh?" muttered Otis looking uninterested. "Something cold?"
"Yeah, but I'm not worried. I got a new jacket. I'll be warm." said Yuri putting his hands in his pockets. Otis nodded and sipped from a thermos. "Say comrade, you wouldn't have a spare coin for the bus would you?"
"What did you spend it on, the paper or the drink?" asked Yuri dryly. "Here." and passed him a crumpled Ruble note with a fortune cookie size note wrapped inside.
"Thanks friend." said Otis pocketing the Ruble as the bus pulled up. The three bundled up passengers entered the bus and paid their fares. Yuri would be heading to his apartment to fix dinner and wait for the employment office to give him the time and location of the shipping or construction yard he would be reporting to in the morning. Hopefully he would have enough time for some good sleep since his roommate was visiting family in St. Petersburg.
Otis got off at a seedy neighborhood stop and went to his usual dive bar. He went inside and chatted with the bartender and mentioned that he needed to make a private phone call. After the bartender nodded his head Otis, the Shepard Agent 045 was in a courtesy phone room with a 'broken' payphone. With the door shut, Otis carefully wired a the voice and frequency scrambler into the transmitter. Then he dialed a local number. He let it ring 4 times, hung up and waited for about 3 minutes and then the 'broken' payphone rang. He immediately picked up.
"45...970508A" he said in Russian
"Proceed, what have you got?" asked a male Russian voice with a trace of a Kali accent.
"Our friend has passed his tests and backgrounds. He will be reporting on time to the desired location."
"Good, what about the rest of team 1?
"We are in position, about to start work with the government contractors by the end of the week." there was a small click as the scrambler changed its frequency.
"While your at it, I have an assignment for you 45." Said the voice on the phone.
"Team 2 has identified Dmitri Poshkin as the head of accounts for the Moscow City Planner's Office. Go see what transactions you can find, something that will give us a clue what sort of project this is." he said... *click* the frequency changed
"We should have a good idea what this is all about by the end of the week, since we will be taking part in this massive construction ourselves." 45 added.
"We will see. Look into Poshkin, see what you can find. We need to end this chat my friend."
"Take care."
Otis hung up the phone and carefully removed the scrambler and left the booth. He went into the bathroom and changed his clothes and shaved. He put on his glasses and left the transient attire in the trash. He left through the backdoor of the bar and made his way to a weekly motel, only two blocks away.