The Federal Coalition Regional RP Forum (IC Invite Only)

[Insurgia]

August 30th, 5208, 2:00 PM
Conclave, The Conglomerate Empire of Vorstus, Eden
Federal Intelligence Agency HQ

He kept up with Vorstinian fashion, wearing the latest suits and ties and even keeping up with the hairstyles. As he walked into the room, people even mistook him for any average Vorstinian bloke, but that assumption was shattered as he spoke a clear and neutral Insurgian accent. He carried a file in one hand and took a seat at the table, opening the file immediately.

"Sir. Gentlemen. I'll begin. We have latest intelligence from confirmed sources. We are missing a 72 Megaton Thermonuclear Device. It went missing a few weeks ago, right here in Conclave. We have uh, security footage of the two possible suspects. However, their faces can't be made out as they are covering them. But of course, that's the job of the FIB to figure out. Moving on, Arkham Nation has decided to withdraw their forces from the Harvest Campaign for reasons unknown. We have a few thoughts that may link to the mob or perhaps another source. Next is-" he was interrupted by a raising of a hand.

"Do we have any idea where the 8 foot nuclear warhead is?" asked the man, having a dense Karaqi accent.

"Unfortunately, we do not. We can only presume these two men know, which is why we're doing our to best to find them." finished the Agent.

He coughed, clearing his throat and continued.

"Next is from the Front Line, from Military Intelligence, they say there are Insurgents present in the outer rim, mostly on Aradia and nearby planets. MULICA also happened to have invaded Exodus however, it was pre-occupied by also Anarchists and traces of Fascist Insurgents. For the absence of the Arkham troops, Insurgian Divisions will be transported to Harvest as soon as possible." he finishes once more, closing the file and setting it aside.

"Here's our job. Find out, who and where this man is." he said.

He held up a remote, pressing only one button. On the screen appeared a single man out in front of Teachs' Tech Store, who was appearing to be locking the door. This time however, his fellow assailant was not with him. Everyone sat up in there chairs, trying to observe the man. Until the security footage finally showed the man walking off into the night.

[Vala Victoria]

September 2nd, 5208 06:00 hours
Military Outpost, Military Canopy, Harmony
Point Rain

It started out as any other day, the early rising sun just a few inches from the top of the treeline. It was a normal Sunday morning, everyone was either asleep or continuing their duties. Probably cleaning or preparing the breakfast for the massive amounts of soldiers, both Vorstinian and Karaqi alike who were off dreaming about who knows what. All of them, completely unaware of the impending forces that threaten their very existence. Miles away, the largest amassed fleet of ARC-150's flew quickly above the trees and around the mountains and hills of Harmony. Surely radars would pick them up but by the time they appeared on the radar, it would be too late. Closing in on 'Point Rain', otherwise known as the general location of the mass troop depot. The place where they would drop their payload. As they got closer and closer, the barracks and military buildings became more visible and the entirety of the camp seemed motionless. High altitude bombers in the hundreds could be seen in the Stratosphere, carrying who knows what. The main bombers, also in the hundreds, carried a pair of bombs with them.

In the wake of the morning, the first bomb fell. Hitting directly into a fuel tank, which had been laying right next to a ammo depot, causing an even larger explosion. In following of this, more bombs fell, only then waking the soldiers as expected. All the soldiers ran out into open, only to be mowed down by quick plasma fire from the incoming and swiftly flying ARC-150's. Any who did make it to wherever they needed to be, were most likely killed by the dropping of the bombs which had came down in the hundreds. In distress, some referred to their anti-aircraft guns which were placed all around the base. Firing blankly at the incoming Victorian fighters, shooting down multiple in the process but getting returning fire from the incoming pilots.

Vorstinian and Karaqi, doing what they could to fight back at the enemy, going as desperate as firing pistols and rifle rounds into the air. No matter what damage they might've caused, the numbers were far too great. The casualties were inevitable and absolutely nothing could've prevented such a disaster like such. The fighters and bombers continued on to the airfields and even the military space ports, to finish their march of destruction. Leaving the countless soldiers, lying dead on the ground, in the wake of their comrades. Moving towards the airfields and spaceports, however, they were now aware of what was now happening. They even had managed to deploy some fighters of their own, but once again, the numbers were far too great and they were with in only a matter of minutes, shot down by the fighters.

This lasted for maybe another hour, constant bombings of shuttles and even parked carriers on the ground. Both Karaqi and Vorstinian in origin. All of them were now reduced to a blazing inferno, as the entire path the Victorians had followed was. Behind them, razed like a wildfire, was the continuous explosions of the Military Canopy.

[Vorstus]

September 3rd, 5208, 2:00 PM
Kaztain, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kaztain City Spaceport

The Prime Minister's Executive Shuttle, the FGSS. Noxite touches down softly on the Spaceport Landing Pad. Slowly but surely, the massive Vessel taxis onto and across the Runway. Afterwords, the Machine parks, coming to a complete stop inside of the Spaceport's Garage. Once landing is completed, Kollin's Limo is released from it's Garage within the Noxite, and is given to green light to go ahead and enter the Metropolis of Kaztain. It is a gloomy day in the Crimson City, and rain pours down from the sky. Only thin streaks of sunlight pass the massive blockade of clouds before them. To some extent, it summarizes the entire feeling of the Federation. As the Limo pulls into the spaghetti of Kaztain's Freeways and Roads. East blows his noes into his nose into his handkerchief, and opens his Cabin's Curtains, looking out on the nasty weather.

"These People had better watch out. No road closings. No Spaceport Regulations. It's a wonder that be damned Seventy Two Megaton Bomb has not wound up here. The Kremlin has burnt once. It could burn again. Dreadful weather were having to day, isn't it Luke? I normally love the rain, but this is a different... kind... of rain. Its cold and heavy." He slurs, before blowing his nose for a second time.

The Driver, a long time Servant to the PM, looks back for a short period once the Car reaches a stoplight. His eyes look tried and tired, as if they once belonged to a much older Man. The grin he appends is crooked and his teeth appear chipped. Liver Spots now freckle where thick red hair used to grow. The rest of his face is traced with scars and healed lacerations. It is clear, that at one point of this Man's life, he was unmercifully abused. More likely by the very People whom employed him.

"Yes Sir, the weather is quite terrible. I'm just glad the Roads aren't slick. The last time we came here, sheets of ice covered the Streets. It was almost impossible to get around! Its a shame you must visit this City in this muck and under these... circumstances..." Stutters Luke fixing his tie and hat as he simultaneously drives away from the Stop Sign.

Kollin sneezes all over the Cabin, sending Snot and a Web of Mucus across the Windows and Curtains. He stares at the mess for a moment and then, with care, begins to wipe it away from his nose and suit. In disgust, he gets up and moves forward to the O shaped seat, which happens to be the closest one to the Driver's Seat. Besides of course, the Passenger Seat. With a short blow of the nose, he responds in a apathetic tone.

"Well, you see, about twenty years back I did have a Dream of entering this City under similar circumstances. However, in that Vision, this City was in Ruins, Fedosov was in chains, and Banks was by my side. Its a wonder how to VERY different Nations can be brought together by one Supreme Threat isn't it Lukas? I mean, when everything is a Race to see who can get to something or somewhere first, there is no Room for a simple Consensus: We both need to survive... So why not help one another. I suppose, however, that was the Basis of the Founding of the Federation. A Survival Consensus. Now it would seem though, that nobody can handle Solidarity or Peace. War is the only propelling force for some Nations. And it will be those Countries in particular that will be left to the Dustbin of History, lost to the vast expanse of the New Age." He concludes poetically, before going into a coughing fit.

Soon later, the Limousine pulls into Red Square, suddenly surrounded by the Vorstinian Convoy that had escorted the Car all that way to the Kremlin. Stormtroop Guards gather round the Prime Minister, flanking him on all sides. With Guns and Batons in hand, the group of twenty one climbs the small Staircase all the way up the Kremlin's Door. The Prime Minister closes his umbrella, and enters the Karaqi House of Government.

[Insurgia]

September 3rd, 5208, 2:30
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

Outside of the Kremlin Entrance, a limo drove toward it, entering the check point. Karaqi soldiers, Kremlin Regiment Guards by the looks of it, wore their regular uniform like trench coats, with a nicely polished AK-47 over their shoulder. The driver rolled down the window, the Karaqi Checkpoint guard reading a piece of paper the driver had at the ready. It was clearly in Slavic Handwriting so the Karaqi nodded and radioed it in. With haste, the entrance gate opened and the limo continued forward. Behind them, the gates closed immediately, waiting for their next possible guest. President MacArthur wore a black overcoat, with tight leather gloves to he could actually manage to fool around on his holographic device. He grayish black hair combed back as usual and a standing out Insurgian Flag Pin on his suit underneath the overcoat. Soon enough the limo stopped and all that was heard was the loud surfacing of the rain and the driver, rushing out of the car with an umbrella to open the door for the President.

Soon enough, the door opened and MacArthur stepped out immediately, speed walking with the driver for cover from the rain. In front of them were two rows of Kremlin Guards, each of them at attention. Each of them armed. It was just like reading a propaganda entry in the news from maybe 10-20 years ago, during the Katya years. Highly militarized. Everything in between seemed more at peace. He thought about it for a moment, pondering on the thought of who Fedosov might've been as he had never had the honor of meeting him. He looked towards the driver and sighed.

"Patrick, just park the limo in the garage across the way. I'll call you when I am done here." ordered the President.

The driver nodded and ran back towards the limo, closing the umbrella and entering the car with haste. Driving off towards the Kremlin Garage. The President, observing this until he finally was out of his sight, turned towards the Senate entrance and entered. The doors being opened by Kremlin guards for him and closed as soon as he entered. MacArthur stepped on the floor mat on the ground and ran his hand through his hair, keeping it combed back. He walked down the stairway, finding a built in seat with a table marked Insurgia and took a sit, noticing the Vorstinian Official along the way however being unaware of the recent exchange of power within the Vorstinian Government.

He nodded towards the man and awaited the rest of the guests.

[MULICA]

September 3rd, 5208, 2:32
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

The State Car pulls up quickly to the Guards' Booth, or the so called 'Check Point'. Red Square is packed on this particular day, and the line to get inside the Kremlin itself- was little to no different. Car after Car moves forward, hands the Karaqi Official their Papers, and after a moment, passes through the Open Gate. A couple of times, however, a few Cars are refused at the Booth, and are turned away. It was only noticeable as the whole ordeal slowed down the entire line immensely. As the Car pulls further forward, it becomes clear not much has changed in the City since the days of Hatcher's Visit. People with large weapons in Military Uniform parade around the place, looking extremely formal while doing so. The State Car and Convoy inch closer to the Booth, and at last, get there. From his black Overcoat, the Driver takes a collection of papers and a small badge. He slides both of the items into the glass. As the rain falls, the papers get a little wet, but they are still legible. They are written in the Mulican Slavic Language, but not the Language of the Karaqis. A brief argument ensues between the Guardsmen and the Driver, until the Guardsmen slides the documents into an Automatic Translator Scanner, which instantly brings the words into Karaqi, before printing off the New Copies. Apologies are exchanged in English, and the Car goes into the Portal which is opened before it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Vinko looks around the dank muddy Path that leads to the Kremlin Garage. Even in the bloody rain and mixed in snow, these fools lined up with Kalashnikovs on their shoulders with nothing but blankness on their faces, and mindlessly preform their daily routine. Even if the Driver is oblivious to him, the CEO must comment. He clears his voice and looks out the window some more, awing at the Daily Spectacle.

"Its amazing is it not? Every day these People make these neat little lines and march up and down these petty little Paths. Its so ambiguous... Its as if the expect a War on the Home Front... Not as if I blame them. Back home, across all the ISM, steps are being taken to secure our Independence. However, this is the oddest way of going about defending your Motherland" Vinko goes quiet, and the Guard says nothing.

For a while, until the Path to the Garage ends, the CEO plays about on his Holo-Computer which he brought from the Shuttle. Soon though, the Car lurches to a stop, and the Vorstinian Driver (from the Mulican State of Cascadia) folds back his chair, and slowly falls asleep. Knežević exits his Car to find Kremlin Guards around it, ready to escort him to the Meeting. With pride the CEO walks with them, fantasizing about being the Premier of Karaq, instead of being the CEO of a tiny Nation such as Mulica. At last, without much conversation, the Group reaches the Kremlin Senate Chamber, where he is left alone with the Prime Minister of the Capitalist, and the Lesser Capitalist, the President of Insurgia. Without words the CEO takes a seat at his designation area. Not a single handshake is even exchanged.

[Arkham Nation]

September 3rd, 5208, 3:00
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

President Hodge Blackwood sits in a limo on his way to a meeting. He puts on his frock coat and his top hat that he leans to his left. He hasn't slept in days and tries to keep his head up. He does not want to be there do to him withdrawing his army from the war.

"We are here Mr. President." The limo driver says as he rolls down his window and shows the guard at the gate. The limo driver drives the limo towards the front of the building. The driver gets out and comes over to the Presidents door. He waits a moment for the President to put on his mask. "Is your mask on Mr. President?"

"Yes, now open the dame door." The President shouts back. The driver opens the door to let the president out. "Go park the limo somewhere close, then pick me up when the meeting is over." He walks up the steps adjusting his mask so it will be comfortable. He opens the door and walks inside then makes his way towards the meeting room. The door man opens the door and the President walks inside. The people inside look at who came in then glare at him as he walks over to find his seat. He finds his seat and slumps in the chair. He stares at the sign in fount of him that says "Arkham" then looks down. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his pocket watch, he stares at it for a minute then places it back into his pocket.

President Blackwood closes his eyes when he feels a tap on his shoulder and jumps in his seat. "Sir, may I ask you take off your mask." He looks at the mask and waits for the President to take it off.

"No, if you do not know about my planet it's very polluted, so I'm not used to clear air. Polluted air is my clean air sir. Unless you want me to die of on air, I suggest you leave me to my business." The President snaps at the man. The man walks quickly backwards and the President looks forward wondering when this meeting would start.

[Karaq]

September 3rd, 5208, 3:50 PM
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

As everyone gets situated, the Supreme Soviet soon enters the Senate building. Filling up their own designated seats, separate from the other nation leaders. All of them talked amongst themselves and soon found their seat. Within a few minutes, everyone in the room was still talking, yet sitting but soon enough, every one silenced as the back entrance of the Senate opened. Two Kremlin Regiment guards opened both doors simultaneously, standing at attention immediately. With haste, two men walked in, appearing to be Ministers. They took their seats along with the rest and waited silently. Soon enough, the room fell silent as they all realized the two had entered, meaning the Premier was not far behind and indeed he was not. A single man, dressed in a black trench coat and a black military cap of sorts, walking through the door, nodding to the two Kremlin Guards. The Guards in response, closed the door behind him, locking it. They stood at attention at the same door while the Premier walked toward the podium, tapping on the microphone.

"Comrades, I am here to inform you today, that tragedy has struck our nation. September 2nd 5208, a joint military canopy on Harmony was viciously attacked by our former ally known as Vala Victoria. I regret to inform you all that over 12,000 lives have been lost. As for the means of what we will do next, that is up for the one who called this meeting. Mr. East, please, make your way to the podium." he spoke, in a rough Karaqi accent.

He stepped aside, waiting for the Vorstinian to make his way up there.

[Vorstus]

September 3rd, 5208, 3:54 PM
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

The Insurgo-Vorstinian waddles his way up to the Podium, trying not to appear to fat as he does so. He attempts to suck in for a short period of time, but ultimately cant do it for over twenty seconds. He holds in his hands a briefcase ( a real one this time) packed with papers and documents of all kinds. A few of their corners even stick out of the case, showing the sloppiness of the PM. For a moment, he sits the microphone given to him down upon the Podium, and fumbles through the box. Paper flies across the Senate floor, but soon, the PM recovers the object of true value: a small one by one inch Microchip. He shuffles with haste over to a Kremlin Guard, whispers something in his ear, and hands the Karaqi the Chip. The Guard rushes away, and the Prime Minister takes the Stand, now in full readiness for such a Short Term Speech. He picks a scattered pile of papers off of the ground, shuffles them thoroughly (after getting them in correct numerical order) and starts his Speech.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate: Today we are gathered here to decide the very future of our Coalition. The Enemy surrounds us on all sides, with Weapons of Total War on their holsters. And as we have seen, a new Enemy, has risen just yesterday. The Rouge State of Vala Victoria attacked the innocent, and for this, they must pay. We shall rise victorious from the ashes of this brutal and gory War, but first, we must make a Plan of Action to bring us onward to our Ultimate Victory. So, preemptively, I have made plans of my own to bring a halt to the Enemy's Advance, and turn the tables on our Enemies." He states in his thick Insurgian Accent, looking down at his paper as he reads the Speech.

Many People express obvious questions and concerns on their faces, and a few even raise their hands, but they are all ignored. The PM takes a short pause to push his spectacles back up his nose. However, between commencing the pause and readjusting his glasses, Nature calls the Leader. A sneeze the size of Reach itself echos through the room, and all kinds of bodily fluids exit the mouth and nose of East. He quickly regains composure, and wipes everything down. Hand-Sanitizer is used on everything, and Canned Disinfectant is even used on the microphone. Chuckles echo through the Chamber, but they are quickly silenced as they all remember the seriousness of the topic at hand.

"Firstly, although it may sound silly at first, we must acknowledge this is dissidence within the Coalition on a National Scale. This matter cannot and will not be taken lightly. In fact, it must be punished to the most severe extent of our Penalization Code. Annexation and Rehabilitation. Anything else will not suffice, for Vorstus at least. These People are Murders and Heathens, and should be treated as such. I say, on all fronts, we sweep away whatever Anarchist that may remain, or make peace with the ones we cant kill off. A War on this many Fronts will not be a very long War. Like it or not, we need to call it quits with the Anarchist. They will either come to terms with Land Reservations on Planets we no longer use, or die in a full on Genocide that will wipe out their entire Race. Once we make a stable peace with them, we can reinvest our Forces on the Victorian Front. A Full Scale Attack coupled by Total War is what I want. Nothing but the worst for these Assholes. And we can start, surprisingly, today. We can begin by terminating their Membership in the Coalition. This would cut them off from food, resources, and the manpower that the Federation provides to them. Anyhow, that's all I have to give. All of you have a lovely afternoon, and take some time to think about my proposition. Thank you." The PM says bleakly, attempting to recover from the embarrassment of sneezing in front of the entire Senate Membership.

Like a duck, the obese Man fumbles down the Stairs of the Podium and back down into the Rows of Desk that house the Leadership of almost every Nation in the Coalition. For a moment, everyone is quiet. Everybody waits for the Karaqi Premier to say something, or perhaps, somebody else to stand up.

[Karaq]

September 3rd, 5208, 4:00 PM
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Kremlin Senate

After East takes a seat, the Premier soon walks back up the podium smiling and nodding to East.

"I'm sure after hearing what I have said and what the Prime Minister has said. It is clear that we should avenge our comrades and avenge we will. Like all wars before we have overcome the enemy and any wars we haven't it has been because they were superior to us. This is not the case now. Vala Victoria is an inferior enemy with inferior troop numbers with much military surplus. The Anarchists on the other hand are different. They work differently and they are no standing army. They hide in our population centers, they hide among our citizens, they hide within our governments and they hide far and wide, out of our reach. We are indeed at war with an enemy with the means and indeed the capabilities of destroying us. Eradicating our existence as if we had never even existed. This. Will. Not. Happen. I ask that the Supreme Soviet, declare a state of war against our closest ally, Vala Victoria and grant all military aggression towards their leader."

The Premier soon steps away from the podium and the Supreme Soviet stands up immediately, either clapping or yelling at the Premier. The Premier nods to the other nation leaders and soon exits out the back door. Leaving the rest to fend for themselves. In the meanwhile, the Soviet Military soon mobilizes in the nearby systems close to Vala Victoria. Preparing for the next possible attack.

[Insurgia]

September 5th, 5208, 7:00 PM
Al-Quassam, The Islamic Republic of Aradia, Aradia
First Contact Actual

Ten M3A3 Bradley's rolled silently on the road of the now evacuated Al-Quasamm, the Capitol of the Governance of the Islamic Republic. All of them on a flank guard mission to stop an unknown force, presumably Insurgents. It seemed as if the Insurgents wished for the Insurgians to be flying blind as any eyes or ears that came close to the Anarchist force, were immediately taken out. The Tank Platoons' mission was to stop the Insurgents in their tracks and take out as many as they can to prevent them from hitting a supply train for both Military and Refugees alike.

All of them were relaxed, for the past few days, everything had been quiet. No major firefights had taken place and to be perfectly honest all of them had been dying for a fight. Almost happy they would have someone shooting at them again. All of them however, were unaware of the recent Federal Guard Policy and Offensive Measures. The recent attacks from Vala Victoria all over the Coalition. All of them originating and spreading like a wildfire from the very incident that caused the fire. The surprise attack on Harmony.

Breaking the casual rhythm of the rolling tracks and hums of the engines, a high pitched whisper soon could be heard. The whisper soon stopped as it caused an even louder noise. An explosion. All tank crews jumped up into action, getting into their action positions. The Platoon Sergeant popped his out of the hatch, looking behind him, noticing the last Bradley in line being completely decimated. The entire turret laying beside the body of the tank in flames.

"Shit! Reverse right! All tanks, reverse right! Tallon, reverse right dammit!" ordered the Platoon Sergeant.

The nine remaining Bradley's soon reversed right, decreasing their elevation as they came off the road.

"Anyone see it?!" yelled another Tank Commander on the radio.

Another shot rang out, missing one Bradley by just a few feet, sending sand flying into the air.

"I see it! It's a God damn tank! Where the hell did they get a tank all the way out here?!" yelled another.

"Doesn't matter! Tank is 400 yards out! Mouse, load a damn smoke slug. Coop, put it right in his face!" yelled the Platoon Segeant.

In two shots, the Bradley fired two smoke slugs into the field, hoping to blind the tank. The enemy tank in response, soon came out of the brush, only revealing itself to be a T-90 Battle Tank. All the Bradleys soon came to a halt, watching as the T-90 came across the road.

"The hell!? Is that a Karaqi tank!?" question a Bradley operator.

"God dammit, all tanks, AP shells. Try to get around him and shoot him at his back side!" yelled the Platoon Sergeant.

Immediately the nine tanks divided into two groups. Three of them flanked left while four flanked right. The T-90, traversed left, it's cannon moving swiftly with ease and firing a single HEAT shell into the side of a Bradley, destroying it in one shot. The two other Bradleys continued on, speeding up. The T-90, went into reverse, the turret traverse continuing to move more left, catching up to the other two.

"Coop! Fire dammit, he's lining up with Reese!" ordered the Platoon Sergeant.

Two of the tanks on the right side fired simultaneously at the T-90's side skirt, only knocking off bits of armor plates. The T-90 only continued to move backward and fire off another two rounds, destroying one Bradley and destroying the track of the other. On the other flank, all four tanks kept firing at the turret and side skirt of the T-90, some only bouncing off and other only doing minimum damage. That was until three of the four finally made it behind the T-90, firing in a unorganized ripple form. All three AP shells dug deep into the engine nest, causing the engine to catch fire and explode. Sending sparks and flames fly high into the air.

The remainder of the T-90 crew, jumped out of the tank, running for the hills. Their Commander, still climbing out.

"Somebody get those two stragglers. The Commander is mine." ordered the Platoon Sergeant.

Immediately another Bradley, mowed down the stragglers with their Automatic 25 mm mounted machine gun. The Platoon Sergeant, hopping out of his Bradley, approaching the wounded T-90 Commander. Grabbing him by his collar, dragging him off the tank and throwing him onto the sand. Noticing something rather odd about him until foam suddenly started to flood out of his mouth. The Sergeant let go of him, hating the cowardice of the now dead commander but still curious.

"Reese." the Platoon Sergeant asked over the radio.

"Aye?" responded the tank commander.

"Get out here and come take a look at this." ordered the Sergeant.

Within a few minutes, Reese climbed out of his Bradley, walking over to the dead T-90 commander.

"What is it?" asked Reese.

"Since when were we at war with the Victorians?" the Platoon Sergeant asked, nodding towards the dead body.

[Vorstus]

September 5th, 5208, 5:00 PM
Federal FOB, The Independent Republic of Insurgia, Reach
The Customs Tents, Preparing to Embark on Landing Craft

"Next" Cries Angus, tapping his stylus on his Tablet with angst.

The line of Soldiers moves forward about half an inch. It seems as if the day will never end for the Customs Officer. The next Zombie comes forward to the Desk, looking as they usually do. Tough. Battle Hardened. Empty. The young Man slides his file onto the desk and over to the Officer. A set of Dog-Tags, also comes with them. Curiously, Angus takes the folder, and opens it up. He checks for consistency in all things. Seals, Signatures, and Photographs are all evaluated to the scrutiny of the Vorstinian Home Office. He quickly takes as many mental-notes as he can on the papers in front of him, before fixing his gaze back upon the Boy. Unsurprisingly, he had not changed much from the picture. He was clearly a new Enlistee. All Seals had checked out, and the Signatures as well. Nothing was out of order. Now came the truly tricky part. The Test. Hazel Eyes. Correct. Black Hair. Correct. Male. Correct. Caucasian. Correct. Six-Four. Correct. One hundred and ninety seven pounds. According to the Scale he stood on, this to was Correct. And lastly, scribbled in black ink, are the words 'Screws your Mum every night' with a little pre-checked-box next to it. The Officer looks up, and the boy begins to laugh. In order to fight this invalid accusation, Angus looks at the young Man's Name. Henry McCreedy. The Officer soon starts to laugh as well, starting to realize who it it.

"Well damn Boy... You made it! Congratulation Mate! Were the Archies hard on ya? I thought you were dead when I heard your Platoon got captured... I heard they skin their Captives alive! Is that true!? Did you see any of their Leadership? Did you see El Mao or the Station when the Bombs fell? What the fuck happened to the rest of your Crew? Did they die? Did they sacrifice their lives for you? Do you think you will write a book about your experience? How many of those Bastards did ya kill? Did you get shot? How are ya doin right now?" He croaks, asking as many questions as he possibly can in such a limited amount of time.

The Boy looks at the Officer with great puzzlement on his face. He makes an attempt to remember the questions, and if possible, their answers. He thinks for a short period of time, only to later disregard most of them as nonsensical questions that make no difference if the go unanswered or not. He then shoots back a response.

"First off, Angus, we dint get into any actual Combat. We were a Standby Team for the El Mao Assault. Therefore, I dint kill any 'Bastards', and the rest of Blackjack Crew is still alive and are waiting in different lines. The Little Mama herself was loaded up into the Cargo bay once we got here about an hour ago. Shame we will never get to see her again. A fine Tank she was indeed. And yes, I did see the Bombs fall. Liked to blind me. The Pyro-Minister is what we call him now. Anywho, what time are we-" He says, stopping as the sound of multiple, well timed gunshots fill the air.

He looks around. It sounds as if it came from the next Tent over. Not wanting to lose his place in line to go and check he simply looks confused, and a little shocked. Was the Base under attack? Had some PTSD crazed Maniac gone on a rampage? He begins to wonder if Johnny, a fellow Member of Blackjack Crew, was hurt in whatever just happened. The Tanker fingers for his Pistol, only to find it missing. Of course, it was packed away in a Shipping Crate along with many more like it. Many others in the line do the same, only to find the same thing. Henry is the first to ask the question. McCreedy takes note of the Officer's unfazed face as he sits, looking up with a grin at the Tanker.

"As, I was saying... When are we going to be back home and what the hell was that noise?" He ask, with a bit of racing emotion in his face.

Curiosity. Hope. Uncertainty. Agitation. All four fight for their rightful spot in the young Man's Brain. Still sitting there, still profoundly apathetic to anything around him. He almost acts as if nothing had happened at all. He looks down at the Schedule for all of the Men in the line, and then quickly looks back up at the young Man.

"Well, you and the rest of Blackjack Crew are scheduled to regroup inside of the same Landing Craft and leave here at about seven PM. At around three PM about two days later, you will be in orbit around Iagawa, awaiting orders from-" Angus cant finish his thought.

Henry thunders back yet another question, this time, angrily. He snatches looks down at the sheduel and reads it aloud, yet quietly enough so only he can hear himself speak. He mumbles for a few more seconds.

"Iagawa? Isn't that a Victorian World? I thought they were our Allies?' He ask, so very misinformed.

Angus nods, and looks over to the small flap that leads to the next tent over. It is now soaked in a sticky, red, nasty irony smelling liquid. Not even a simple person could mistake it. It was most defiantly blood. However, unlike in an attack. No Medics go rushing into the Tent. Nor does any return fire come about. The sound was far to close for it to have been an Enemy Airstrike. And even if it was, how would they get past the Bases' complex Air Defense Systems? Now understanding that the Tanker had not yet found out. He breaks the News gently.

"Yeah, we thought they were as well. We were wrong. They Surprise Attacked Harmony a few days ago, with incredible force. Now their Military Units within the Federal Guard have begun to rise up. So its our duty to put 'em down. We are still at War." He says, glancing occasionally at the Crimson Curtain.

In shock and awe, McCreedy's face flushes of color. It appears as if he might die himself. He walks slowly to the Tent's Back Flap, and exits to the Outside World, where waits his designated Landing Craft: A Xavier Class Machine and Troop Carrier. He climbs the Staircase with flabergast, and thinks quietly to himself: A good Tanker died to day. Not at the hands of the Enemy. But at the hands of the very People he defended, merely because of the color of his skin. Was this equality? Was this freedom? Were these true Vorstinian Values at work? The Tanker ponders over what he and his Men were really fighting for.

[Karaq]

September 6th, 5208, 7:00 AM
Kaztian, The Soviet Socialist Republic of Karaq, Genesis
Space Docks, Departure

Crowds cheers as soldiers walked into the troop carriers, waving back at their supposed families. Officers on the sidelines, holding the manifest of each troop carrier and each soldier that was being put on it. The manifest itself also included them, even if they wished not to be apart of it. They all knew how the Victorians were and all these cocky soldiers were eager and fast to say: "Oh! Let's go get them damn traitors!"

Lieutenant Colonel Romanov pulled his sleeve back on his right arm, checking the time. He then turned around, looking back at the dozens of other troop carriers lined up, loading up perhaps thousands of soldiers. He sighed a breath of anxiety, knowing he was going back out the battlefield.

"Eh! Romanov!" yelled a nearby officer, walking up the platform. A large formation of soldiers, marching alongside him.

"Da?" responded Romanov.

"Where are they going?" asked the officer.

"Six are heading to Iagawa and the other Six are going to Voruta." stated the Lieutenant Colonel.

"Joining up with the Vorstinians, da?" he said, positioning himself next to Romanov, overlooking the soldiers.

"Da, over Iagawa. We're on our own when we get to Voruta." sneered Romanov.

"Where are you going?" asked the officer.

"Wherever the action is..." finished Romanov, walking into the troop carrier.

Finally the last batch of troops entered the troop carrier and the same happened for the next eleven.

"Eh! Romanov! One last question!" yelled the officer.

"What?!" Romanov yelled back, the transport doors soon lifting upward.

"What do you think they'll call this one?" he asked.

"Hah, if it were up to me, I'd call it, War of the Worlds comrade. I'll see you on the other side!" finished Romanov, the transport door, ending their conversation.

In only moments, the dozen troop carriers soon lifted off, rising above the skyline. Joining up with the other hundreds of troop carriers from all over Kaztian that soon exited the Atmosphere, entering perhaps the single most largest Karaqi fleet ever assembled for a joint world invasion.

[Vala Victoria]

September 7th, 5208, 4:00 AM
The Defensive Planets of Voruta and Iagawa
Military Defense

As of now, the military went on high alert. Naval Warships on Iagawa were at the ready and Interstellar fleets hovered silently above the planets. Marines on Iagawa and Infantry on Voruta prepared for the worst to come. Cargo Transports came from Osmiri and dropped countless amounts of weapons and vehicles to prepare for battle. Fresh troops also on board, took to their new commanders and positions, ready to take down the enemy and defend their Dear Leader and their Dear Land!

On Iagawa

Troops settled into trenches and bunkers, mounting machine guns and belts at the ready for anything. Of course, their battle wouldn't come first, that was the honor of the Interstellar Fleet above the planet. Either way, they remained ready for anything. Officers, clenching their Imperial Swords, in case things escalated to close quarters combat.

On Voruta

Snow in August was rather normal but since the planet was just coming out of summer, the snow was very light and sometimes even melted as soon as it touched the ground. Soldiers ran to their positions and T-90 tanks took their positions hidden among the trees and urban cities. Anti Aircraft Guns were placed on the tops of mountains and some in urban areas, in case the enemy came down with airships and shuttles. They would be ready. Ready to die for their Supreme Leader.

[Vorstus]

September 7th, 5208, 5:42 PM
Just Outside of Victorian Space, Aboard the FGSS. Harbourtown, Anchored
Central Meeting Hall

Laughter fills the air as the now fully congregated High Command observes the Victorian Fleets before them. Many start to cough and must be calmed down. Others simply, must exit the room in order to cool off. Once everyone is back to normal, the Generals and other High Rankers sit daintily before a large Holographic Planetary Model of Iagawa. Around it, are situated many Victorian Fleets which now lie in wait for the oncoming Vorstinian-Karaqi Armada. Many of them have obvious weaknesses in their Lines, while others look a little harder to crack. However, everybody in the Room is completely aware of the sheer mass of the Karaqi Battlegroups and the rather large Federal Guard Fleet that now stood poised just outside of Simona Space, should anything go awry. Nonetheless, brute force alone wouldn't cut it. So, the Meeting began as all Meetings began. Larkin, Binkowski, Kirkland, and Leavitt stood before the Armada's Inner Circle, laying down the Blueprints for the Iagawa Front. They stand firmly in their spots until at last the final Hooligans go speechless. Together, they begin. Larkin starts.

"Soldiers. Pilots. Seaman. Federals. Today, we wield the most powerful weapon mankind, nay I say, ANYTHING has ever created. The Pen. Together, we shall write the History Books of the Future, today. Although, we all know in order to write History, we must be the Victors. Therefore, today, my Compatriots and I have composed a Plan that will bring us great successes on each Front that we fight on. Mr. Binkowski, please explain." Ask the Brigadier in a cynical tone.

The Karaqi kindly obliges and steps forward without a moments notice. Quickly, he grasp a small remote which lies next to him on the Table. He points it at the Hologram, and it doubles down to a certain part of the Planet. Over the World itself is the time: twelve 'o clock PM. Suddenly, the Hologram comes to life with movement. Three different Model Fleets seem to be at play on the Video. It starts with a single Blue Fleet moving forward, closer to Iagawa. The closer it gets, it seems that the Armada grows apart some how. Eventually, before the Armada reaches it's Target Destination, it completely splits. The larger Fleet moves in a C shape closer towards the Planet, before finally cloaking and coming to a complete standstill. Meanwhile, the smaller Fleet gains speed (now not weighted down by the hundreds of other Vessels) and comes in one another Fleet- this one Red- and begins to pummel it, sending many tiny, green, Holographic Lines spraying across the Battlesite. It is clear what this blur of light is supposed to represent: Plasma Fire. A few moments later, small, round, Red flashes start to appear on the screen. The Men in the Room can best interpret the new light as Rocket and Torpedo Fire. The two Fleets exchange fire for a few seconds, which is meant to symbolize hours, as the small clock on top of the Planet runs through minutes as if they are seconds. Later, the larger Fleet, which is still cloaked a few clicks away, uncloaks, and moves forward to the Planet at a breakneck pace. They arrive and aid their Blue Allies, attacking the Red Fleet from behind, sending it firing in every direction. Eventually, the fighting slows, and then stops. The Holograph fades.

"As you can see Gentlemen, the Operation is very simple. The Fleet comes in at around twelve tomorrow, fully prepped and readied for War. As we near the Planet, The Karaqi and Vorstinian Fleets tear away from on another. The Numerically Superior Karaqi Fleet cloaks a few miles from the Battle, while the Technologically Superior Vorstinians move forwards into Conflict. After a couple of hours, the Vorstinians reach their target, and the War begins. It will feel as if we are losing at first, that's because we are. We lull them into a false sense of Pride and Safety, then, kaboom. The Karaqi Fleet uncloaks, approaches from behind, and fires away. Encased on both sides, and already very weakened on one of those sides, they will be forced to thin their Lines to keep safe from Karaqi and Vorstinian Rocket and Torpedo Attacks. This will only make it simpler for us to encircle and destroy their remaining Fleetcraft. Despite heavy losses on our side, their Fleet is defeated and we can enter Iagawa's Atmosphere, no problem at all. This of course, is the best case Scenario. This Model provides that the Vorstinians will kill as many Victorians as Victorians kill them, which can not be ensured. So, tactically, we have installed a Fleet of over five hundred Federal Guard Ships in Simona's Orbit. If we need assistance, they are on standby, and will arrive to help. If they are not needed in the initial Battle, they will come when it is over, to help clean up, and land Troops. Speaking of which, I will now hand this over to Admiral Kirkland. Please, come Comrade." He states, going back into the small gathering of Generals. The Fleet Admiral is handed the Remote as he comes in.

Once again, the Fleet Admiral presses a button on the Holograph, and the image zooms in. It is a small section of Ocean in Central Iagawa. Many, many Islands speckle the Nameless Sea. A few, have little Red blips on them, with words coming off of them in a language not understood by many there. Victorian. One by one, Blue Blips appear on the Image, mostly on Uninhabited Islands and other Land Masses. A few just plop down in the Ocean without much concern. Slowly but surely, the Blue Blips organize on their respective Islands, and Grey Bases, which can only be seen as Fortifications start springing up around them. In the Sea, the Blips also gather in Groups, and start to maneuver around the Islands. Some go and make a circle around Red Blips, sending a small haze of grey and red Lines flying at them, making them to disappear. Of course, as in the last Show, the Lines are obviously Bombs, Shells, and other such Devious Weapons. This Cycle of Naval Destruction continues until, very few Blue and Red Blips remain, and are very sparsely spread across the Holograph. From Blue Occupied Islands, new Blips fill the Ocean. These Blips travel to the many different Islands, stopping at each Island's Shore, and letting off a new Blip, which travels to another Red Blip on each Island. Soon, the Red Blips on the Islands, one by one, week by week, (according to the clock, as hours seem to pass like microseconds) all go Blue. The Hologram fades.

"This, Friends, is how we shall secure Iagawa. Sheer Naval Power. As the Holograph explained, we will land after the Space Battle, on Islands and even in the Oceans in some places, thanks to the versatility of our new Landing Craft to be able to go down low enough to launch a Ship into the Sea. With our Naval Force in the Ocean, we will begin our Operations. Powerfully Armed Flotillas Consisting of several different types of Ships will sail then Seas on Search and Destroy Missions. Of course, this will take along time, so the Air Forces will also be joining this little endeavor. While we surround them on the waves, they will bomb them from the clouds. By division and destruction, we will conquer them. Although this Mission will more than likely destroy the Aquatic Naval might of both Parties, it will keep them from being a threat on the waves, and therefore, easier targets when we want to combat them on Land. As our Ships go around doing this, we will have already been busy on our taken Lands. Defending them. Fortifying them. Making sure everything in the Plan stays well under our Supervision. With our Pre-Controlled Islands out of Enemy hands, and strong enough to launch the attack, we will begin loading Troops and Machines into Landing Craft, which will bring them to an Inhabited Island that they will Assault under the Orders of Brigadier Larkin. With my confidences fully entrusted to Mr. Larkin, I would be willing to bet, we take every single Island, and make this World a display, that in fact, the Supreme Leader is nothing more than flesh and blood, and nobody can stand up to the might of the Federal Guard! In short, when we land on the Islands, it is up to Larkin and Leavitt to take them. Speaking of whom, I think it is yall's turns" He proclaims in a heavy Insurgian Accent.

The Admiral sits back down, breathing a sigh of relief. That speech did a million on his vocal cords. He leans back, and listens as the Meeting nears it's conclusion. Together, Larkin and Leavitt go up front, remote not in hand. They stand quietly momentarily, waiting for the Mass to calm down a little so they may begin. Silence comes, and Larkin starts.

"Well Folks, there is not much to say here. Vala Victoria is protected by Fanatical Marines which inhabit the Shorelines of each Island, along with, presumably, Armored Forces and Normal Infantry. We simply have brought with us the methods and the tenacity to bite back at them, and with hope, take each critical City. For all my Commanding Officers and Tankers out there, I know what your thinking... Loot, Steal, Pillage, and Rape. No Rape. Have fun kids." Snarks the Brigadier as he sits down with a chuckle.

Not so easily amused, the General of the Air Forces steps forward, with the same amount of boredom as Larkin, just without the smirks and the giggles the Brigadier so easily conjured up. He looks at the Holograph, but does not bother to turn it on.

"Lets make this short and sweet. Seek and Destroy, that's all I'm up for. We help the Navy and when its time, we bomb the Cities. Perhaps we will encounter the Victorian Air Forces, I bet we will. But, with tropical storms so common here, I doubt we see much of anything. Same goes for us. We may not be able to get of the Ground for a couple of months. Remember, I'm not pessimistic, I'm realistic. That's all for me." He reminds, hesitantly sitting down.

Larkin nods, and the Hologram powers down. The Meeting dismisses, and everyone leaves. Everyone besides Binkowski, who remains for some time, turning back on and watching the Clips play on loop, over and over. He soon falls asleep at the Table. The Invasion, was only hours away.

September 8th, 5208, 12:00 PM
Just Outside of Victorian Space, Aboard the FGSS. Relentless, Moving Onward to Iagawa
Larkin's Bed Chambers

The Mid-Day Space erupted in a blaze of many colors and shapes as Pure Energy danced gracefully across the stars as the Victorians laid fire down upon the incoming Federal Guard Fleet. Being the first-to-come smaller Fleet, the outmatched Armada begins with the classic opening move of an Obitus Orb Burst, then followed up by Plasma Fire from Vorstinian Turrets. A few moments later, Rockets and Torpedoes also start piercing the black emptiness of Space, and the true fireworks begin. Brilliant Flashes of red, yellow, and blue fill the horizon, and what in reality is a raging Conflict, turns into a light show of sorts, put on by Pyro-Technicians of the most advanced Skill Level. Any aspiring General like Larkin however, would see things, very differently however.

From his comfy chair, behind the scenes in his Bed Chambers, the Brigadier sits and watches out of the Viewing Window. He sees no beauty in the display put before him. The only images he can conjure up from the flashes and streaks are ones of Death. The slow and torturous deaths of his Foes, and the sad, unnecessary deaths of his Comrades. However, he knew it was a cost that had to be met if the Federal Coalitions Freedoms were to be kept safe. Nothing, he was told, was more important than the Coalition. Lives. Money. Ideals. Nothing was greater. Everything was lesser. But now, he just looks down unto the War being waged many miles away from him.

"And so it begins..." He thinks to himself with angst.

[Karaq]

September 8th, 5208, 1:00 PM
Closing in on Voruta's Orbit
The Movement of the Seventh Odyssey

Lieutenant Colonel Romanov held on to his rifle with one hand, while another held on to a nearby handle on the ceiling of the transport. Already, the Federal Offensive Forces had attacked both of the Victorian fleets above Iagawa and Voruta. Only allowing some breathing room for troops to land. The quick turbulence of slip space shook the transports only briefly, knocking a few off men balance. The steady sway however, was like a clock, ticking back and forth.

Soon, the whole ship went dark, a bright red light coming off each lantern and light source on the ship. Romanovs' eyes went wide and sighed with anxiety. He licked his lips and every soldier shifted around, preparing for what lied ahead. Romanov fixed his cap and looked at the men.

"Comrades...today we avenge our comrades who died on Harmony. For every soldier they killed, we will do the same to them ten times as badly. We will show them no mercy, the same as they did to our comrades. It is a good day to die comrades! Load your rifles and load unto the gunships! Prepare for assault!" yelled the Lieutenant Colonel, locking his rifle and opening the room doors.

Troops poured out of their stations and in the main lobby of the transport, lied perhaps hundreds of Pelican Dropships with dozens of soldiers being loaded on. All of them already had been prepped by their commanders and were ready to face the equal odds of their comrades. Romanov, stepping onto a Pelican himself and helping a few of his own on board as well. A loud beeping sound soon alerted everyone that the troop transports were soon coming out of slip space. Everyone soon hurried to their dropships, strapping themselves to seats.

Adding more fear to the soldiers, the bright red lights soon began to flicker on and off. The turbulence was getting heavier, meaning they were closing in on the war zone. Romanov helped his last man on board, shutting the back hatch of the Pelican immediately. Everyone soon was where they needed to be and the troop transports came out of slip space, taking fire from the enemy immediately. The transporting, opening to bay doors, releasing perhaps hundreds upon hundreds upon thousands of dropships into the chaotic space battle that was taking place between the Karaqi Assault Carriers and the Victorian Carriers. Bright flashes of light engulfed anyone's sight for only brief moments at a time.

The Lieutenant Colonel, slung his H4 Long Range Rifle over his shoulder. Everyone in his pelican either was equipped with that or the Dragunov Rifle. He stood upward, holding on to the ceiling handles of the pelican. The dropship, swaying side to side as it dodged around heavy plasma fire. Explosions outside of the ship, not heard, but felt as it shook them.

"When we land! Whether or be a crash landing or not. If we get separated as a whole, I want you all to pair up together. I don't care who with just pair up now. Make sure you're helmet is on tight and your weapons are ready. I'll see you on the field comrades!" finished the Lieutenant Colonel, strapping his helmet tight to his head.

The dropships soon continued to descend towards the planet, the massive space battle, continuing on into the day.

[Insurgia]

September 9th, 5208, 1:00 PM
Conclave, The Conglomerate Empire of Vorstus, Eden
Federal Coalition Investigative Bureau

Detective Abraham Von Brown stepped onto the wet street, rain dripping down from the roofs of buildings and landing in ditches or in sewage drains. The dark clouds overhead, finishing its release of rain. The sun still attempting to break though the clouds. Like any other day, he would walk into headquarters, walking to his desk which overlooked most of the other uniformed cops. He sat down, across from his partner who was usually there but this time was not. Abraham pulled off his overcoat only to have his partner, Daniels, tug his shirt.

"Eh pal, Captain needs you in her office." Daniel's says.

Brown nods and follows his partner into the the Captains office, closing the door behind him. Inside were two other men, easily recognized by Brown, he nodded to them as they were on the same case he was.

"Good afternoon Abram. You're late as usual." sneers the female Captain.

"I like to be fashionably late, ma'am. What do we got here?" he laughs.

The Captain nods and presses a button of a remote, a television flickers on, appearing to be a security camera. At first, it shows any regular day in Conclave, rainy as usual. Taxi cabs stroll by, sending water from the curb splashing onto the sidewalk. Not many people were in view until a man came into direct view of the camera, two men in fact. One following closely behind but soon catching up, carrying an umbrella over the other. The two then took a gentle right hand turn, the umbrella carrier reaching for the door. The Captain, paused the video. Showing both men, their faces clear.

"This footage was taken from Cagnie's Old Irish Pub in Downtown. The scary looking man wearing all black, that's our man. Herrmann. Elias Von Herrmann, he is suspected of Terrorism, Espionage, Treason, Bribery, Human Trafficking and Murder on nearly 8 planets in all four Federal Quadrants. As far as we are concerned, he's our guy that stole our 72 Megaton Nuclear Device. The guy next to him, he's new. His name, Richard Crane. By his record, he goes by multiple alias's but in the past he has been charged with Bribery, Murder and Terrorism on about 3 planets. All but Bribery were expunged and he served 2 years in a New Siberian Labor camp on Genesis." stated the Captain.

"So, Crane, he's our link to Herrmann?" asked Abraham.

"Yes. He's easier to catch, put it that way. As far as I believe, Crane is still on the planet. Herrmann, as much as he likes to hang around Conclave a lot, he hasn't been seen by surveillance recently but Crane has. Brown, find Crane and you'll find our thief. You know where to look." finished the Captain.

"Yes, ma'am. Daniels, come on." he said, exiting the room.

September 9th, 5208, 1:30 PM
Conclave, The Conglomerate Empire of Vorstus, Eden
Cagnie's Old Irish Pub

The two Detectives exit their car, observing the small sign in front of the entrance, explaining the places name. In the corner of the places perimeter, the same camera could be seen, motionless of course but without a doubt recording. Abraham walked onto the sidewalk, his partner opening the door and entering, Brown following him in. The interior of the building was quite dark compared to the outside world. The standard pub nonetheless, drunken men in booths and at the bar itself. The bartender having a casual conversation with a few sober men. Some are in the far corners of the room, playing either pool or shooting darts with one another.

Most don't even bother to pay attention to the two Feds at they enter the building other than the bar tender who noticed them immediately, ending his conversation with the drunks. He walked towards the edge of the bar, leaning over it and nodding to them.

"What can I get you fellas?" the bartender said in a deep Vorstinian accent.

"Yes, we're looking for this man." said Abraham, pulling out a picture of Crane.

"Ah, yes. He entered the pub a few days ago with another man, both were kind of off to be entering a pub such as this." explained the bartender.

"Want to tell us what they were doing here?" asked Daniels'.

"No problem. They entered at first and sat themselves down at a table. The scary one, he ordered only two drinks, drank both. He had a strong uh, Germanic accent you could say. The other one, didn't drink as I overheard them. He had more of a light Vorstinian accent. They just talked for the most part, exchanged a few files I guess. Work is work, I didn't bother them for the most part." finished the bartender.

"And where did they go after?" asked Brown.

"Well, the German left out the back door. The other one, went upstairs. I guess he had some business with the boss. He was in and out all day that day and yesterday" he said.

Brown and Daniels looked at one another.

"Is Cagnie here?" asked Daniels'

"Afraid not. He's off on some business. Left yesterday, I would suspect with that strange fellow." he finished.

"You got any idea where?" asked Brown.

"Aye, the boss usually heads to the docks. Gets his pickup of the new imported booze. Every month ya know." laughs the man.

"Yeah, thanks." finishes Brown, leaving a card on the bar and darting towards the entrance.

Daniels' continued to converse with the bartender while Brown exited the place. As soon as he exited into the world, the light almost blinded him. Gaining his sight again, he took a deep breath. The heavy clouds above ready to dump some more as the thunder soon rumbled. Trucks and cars drove past swiftly on the street, splashing some water onto the sidewalk and even in the process, soaking Abrahams' car. He cursed to himself and looked to his right, observing the crowd of people who seemed to be having some sort of social argument. The Detective sneered only to notice something out of the ordinary.

A single man, wearing a fedora, held an umbrella overhead as he crossed the street. The man immediately resembled that of the photo of Crane. Abraham, cursed to himself once more, trying to observe the man into his soon came out of his view and disappearing into the crowd. Daniels', coming out of the pub, asking his partner what the bug was. Abraham, only shrugged and got back into the car.

[Arkham Nation]

September 10th, 5208, 7:00 AM
Conclave, The Conglomerate Empire of Vorstus, Eden
Federal Coalition Investigative Bureau

Inspector Url strolls to the Bureau and walks inside. He adjusts his mask and then walks to the front desk.

"Hello I'm Inspector Url with the ANIA. I'm here to ask a few questions on the case of Mr. Teach." He says pulling out his badge and shows it to the lady up front.

"Hmmmmm hmmmm" she looks at him up and down then types on the computer. "Ok you can go in they are waiting for you." She says not taking her eyes of the computer.

The Inspector makes his way to the meeting room with the agent to guide him there. The agent opens the door and let's him in. The Inspector then takes his seat and takes out the papers in the brief case. "Hello I'm Inspector Url with the ANIA and I would like to talk to you about something that happened a month ago. On August 25, 5208, 11:00 am, President Hodge Blackwood just got out of a shower and made his may towards his desk. A man possibly the man your looking for or someone else held a gone to his head. You maybe asking how he got in? He bribed a guard at the gate to let him in. Anyway he ordered the President to retreat all his troop from the battle because he said the mob or someone was going to kill him. He said millions of people will die (possibly the bomb that was stolen from the store) unless the President retreat his troops. The man also said that this is bigger than a aggression. He then placed a card on the desk to contact him. When I got the card I tried to look though your data bases but could not find anything." The Inspector then took out a card and placed it on the table, he then pushed the card to them. "We were hoping that this could come from another planet. The President is ashamed that he could do nothing and he wishes to return his men and fight. This May or may not be the guy you are after but it just might be. He got evidence that it might be him. That is all I have on the matter and just wanted to bring it up here to tell you guys about what happened. Thank you and if you need to contact me" he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card and hands it to the detectives "don't hesitate to try." He then packs his papers and walks out of the room to where he then walks himself out of the building to get back to his ship back to Alastor.

[Vorstus]

-This Post has been deleted by me due to the foreseeable Plot Holes this Spin Off idea would cause-

[Vala Victoria]

September 13th, 5208, 4:00 PM
Above Iagawa, The Legionaire
2nd Planetary Defense Fleet

ARC-150's swarmed in countless numbers, engaging in dogfights with enemy ships. Bright flashes of red and blue flickered as cruisers and carriers fired at one another, some sending a direct knock out blow to the other. In the Command Bridge of the VVCS Legionaire, Admiral Denzo kept his balance as the ship shook slightly, taking a plasma hit.

"Status?" the Admiral asked.

"Admiral, we took a direct blow to our left engine. Rebooting it as we speak." responded a Bridge Operator.

"Good. Notify all defense turrets to focus their fire on the Command Bridges of the Enemy Vessels. It'll be easier to take them out!" ordered the Admiral.

"Yes, Admiral!" answered the Operator.

With elegance, the Defense Turrets on the Legionaire, even with its traverse moving as slow as it was, turned toward the largest targets it could find. Taking aim ever so slowly at their command bridges and firing super heated plasma at its designated target, delivering whatever damage it could.

On the surface of Iagawa, multiple island bases prepared for the worst. Anti-Aircraft Operators loaded their shells in and infantry loaded their rifles. In the distance, destroyed ships came falling from the atmosphere, some hitting islands and other falling into the waters of the tropical planet. T-90 tanks, fitted for the tropical landscape, rolled into their defense positions and aiming their cannons at the sky, in case they had a shot at the possible incoming enemy ships.

The time was near, the Battle on Iagawa was soon to begin.

[Vorstus]

September 13th, 5208, 3:30 PM
Victorian Space, Over Iagawa, Combating the 2nd Planetary Defense Fleet
Armada Movements

As the Xavier Class Machine and Troop Carriers come into position, the first wave of the Offensive comes into play. Shifter Class Fighters leave their Hanger Bay's in massive Flocks and start making Formations as they go into the Battle. The small Craft swarm ARC-150s, taking the slightly larger craft on with a combination of superior agility and numerical force. Rockets and Torpedoes of all kinds are used, however, Obitus Beams do come into play in a few Dog Fights. Although, they are only used as a last resort, as a Collective Charge is in the plans for later. As the first shots of the War with Vala Victoria are shot, the next wave of Shuttles prepares their Assault. Around twelve Manifesto Class Assault/Defense Frigates along with two Vorstinian Justice Class Super Destroyers amass their Crews and begin their Mission. They enter the Abyss with great haste, and charge their Weapons as much as they can and load each and every Torpedo Bay to it's limit. Their destination is the The VVCS Legionaire, the Victorian Flagship and Operations Control Center. Sure, the Rules of War forbid attacks on Enemy Command Vessels, but for now, Rules would have to be set aside. Abiding two hundred year old Regulations would only prolong the War... And preying on an Innocent Military Canopy was not exactly within the set Mandates. So, the gigantic Vessels close in upon their targets. Torpedoes rip into the underside of the Ship, exploding on impact, leaving the Void of Space to finish out the rest. Crews of the Frigates watch as corpses, dozens of them perhaps, float by their windows. However, the Men of the Shuttles know that this alone will not finish the Enemy. The small Group slowly disbands, sending ever smaller Ship Groups to combat the Flagship's Key Facilities. Engines. Oxygen Recyclers. Weapons Systems. Anything that could potentially help the Victorians survive, is targeted for elimination. This includes the Bridge. Return fire comes back quickly from Enemy Turrets, and can be felt all across the board. Some Frigates and even a Super Destroyer take direct hits to either their Bridges and/or Rift Cores, and are destroyed.

"Death to Traitors!" Are the words that pour into Coalition Radios as the vengeful Attack carries on.

Federal Propaganda fills not only the inside of Friendly Shuttles, but also through the Hijacked Radio Channels of the Enemy. The Vorstinian National Anthem blares one second, only a couple of minutes later to be replaced by a full length reading of the Federal Constitution. Anything goes through that might turn Enemy Guns back upon the Enemy. This, however, is not the only reason a Media War is waged. With clogged and clouded frequencies, the Vorstinian Fleet Hackers hope that important Enemy Communications might be disrupted. However, this plan quickly goes down the toilet as the Victorians regain control of their Channels later on in the fight. Although, this short period of Transmissions Confusion allows not only the Larger Ship Group, but also the first wave of Shifter Class Fighters to do more damage, as a cut off Enemy, is a confused Enemy, and a confused Enemy might as well be a dead Enemy. For both Waves, the fighting continues deep into the late afternoon and night. It is only till later does the real Battle start. The release of the Third Wave, not only unleashes another Group of Ships, but Hell itself.

Wave Three consist of the rest of the Armada, in all of its Technological Glory. In Groups of thirty and more they come, firing at any Targets they can fix in their sights. Even a few destroyed ARC Fighters that appear to have a Life Sign on them are destroyed with not one, but two Photon Torpedoes. The full power of the Vorstinian Navy bears down upon the Victorian Armadas bigger Ships such as their Bastion-Class Fleet Carriers, which, surprisingly, are only filled with ARC Fighters. It soon becomes child's play for the larger Shuttles (the ones that were not assigned to fight the Legionaire or attack the Carriers) to pick off ARC Fighters with their defending Shifter Fighters and Turrets. Sometimes though, the sheer numbers of the ARC Fighters overcome Federal Vessels. As this new Front rages on, another Armada waits in quiet secrecy. The Karaqis sit cloaked, just behind the entire Battle, still and cloaked as best they can. Superior in numbers, the hundreds of Ships wait silently for their Orders to begin. However, that Order would not come until later, when a majority of the People's Republic's Navy is diminished to the point of no return, or until the Vorstinians can no longer bare the Burden of the Battle alone.

September 13th, 5208, 4:00 PM
Just Outside of Victorian Space, Aboard the FGSS. Harbourtown, Anchored
Command Bridge

Secure behind the Lines of the Warzone, the FGSS. Relentless lays motionless, observing the Battle before it. More pacifically, Admiral Binkowski watches from the Command Bridge, attempting to observe what he could about the Fight from so far away. This proves pointless, as clouds of shrapnel and debris covered the view of the Operation. At last giving up Binkowski turns to one of the Communications Officers on the Bridge. The boy is about twenty years old, and probably doesn't know his Port from Starboard, but he would have to do. Recruiting was poor these days, and the Navy would take anything it could get. Not a lot of People enjoyed being stuck on a Shuttle for eight or more Months at a time with only one sex. The Admiral dint blame them. So, with regret and annoyance, Binkowski breaks the cold tranquility with his harsh Slavic Words.

"Status Report Officer Jasyn?" He shouts out, gathering the attention of everyone on the Bridge.

The Comms Officer starts typing furiously upon his keyboard, bringing up several images and live feed from multiple Cameras aboard many Ships. He looks it over for a moment, then gives back a short, rather delayed response.

"Our Ships of the Line are moving further and further in to Iagawa Space. They have very few types of Shuttles, other than the ARC Fighters and Bastion-Class Fleet Carriers. We currently have invested our larger Shuttles in destroying their Flagship, and Fleet Carriers, which presumably, are filled only with ARC Fighters. The rest of OUR Fighters are busy attacking ARCs across the board, with the support of our larger Ships. Collective Shields are at seventy eight percent, and we have yet to begin Obitus Charge. They are all holding up fine anyways. Our highest point of Casualties are around their Flagship, which is using its Turrets very wisely. That is all I have to report Sir." He reports, proudly.

The Officers pubescent voice only further annoys Binkowski. However, the reassuring words keep him from becoming angry. He once again looks out onto the Battlesite, amused that the Victorians were only equipped with Fleet Carriers that only carried ARC Fighters. Still curious though, the Leader turns back to face the boy.

"How much longer do you think it will be till Operation Ballistica will be put into effect?" He ask, patiently.

The boy waits a few seconds before proposing a response. He himself looks out of the Window for a second, looking out for any key factors. Of course he doesn't see anything due to the gargantuan sheets of Metal and Ship Fragments in orbit around the Battle. He returns to his Holo-Computer, and once again looks at all the necessary Data. He punches a few numbers into his calculator.

"At this rate, Left Flank will be left destroyed in perhaps a couple of Days? At most a week? With whatever we have left, we can achieve an Obitus Burst, and take out whats left of Left Flank. Afterwards, Right Flank can move in and take the considerably wounded Enemy from that point. After destroying them, we can dispatch the New Fleet, start landings, and start the Ground Offensive." He goes on casually. \

The Admiral nods and sits down. The News not only puts him at ease, but also makes him feel very confident in his planning and Offensive Abilities. He reclines back, and settles in for a very long nap.

[Insurgia]

September 19th, 5208, 8:00 PM
Tabuk, The Islamic Republic of Aradia, Aradia
The Tabuk Raid

Tabuk was one of the 4 cities that were taken by joint Anarchist and Victorian forces on Aradia. The others were Al-Quassam, Ramadi and Jeddah. The capitol however, Al-Quassam was liberated only days ago and the liberation of Tabuk was underway with Commander Ellison leading the Insurgian Forces.

Abrams tanks rolled over the hot sands while infantry climbed up the hills slowly behind them, using them as cover. Flares shot up into the air and gunfire dominated whatever there was to hear. When Abrams stopped moving, the soldiers covered their ears and braced because as soon as it fired, anyone within meters of it would go deaf or get thrown back just by the shock wave it caused. Rings were even formed in the sand around the tank after it fired, noticed by only few. Only 2,000 yards away, the city of Tabuk stood proudly. The city stood as an architectural beacon of achievement for the Islamic World, hosting the tallest tower in the Federal Coalition.

Soldiers ran forward, hitting the sand for cover or dropping their enemies like flies but were dead in the water as the mounted MG's on the city walls sprayed the battlefield. The Abrams did the same to their enemy however, took immense opposition from the Victorian T-90 which had some major updates and modifications to it rather than the Karaqi T-90 which was rather outdated. Regardless the Abrams kept pouring into the battle, outnumbering the T-90's easily. After an increasing amount of tank engagements and battles, some Abrams fired off shells into the city walls, placing large holes into the middle of them, the wall as a whole still standing sturdy. Finally, reaching the wall itself and killing off any opposition on the way there, the Abrams rolled through the wall, bricks and sandstone falling unto the tanks, doing minimal damage. This alone caused a section of the wall to collapse, allow a way into the city but creating a kill zone for everything that tried entering through, tanks and infantry alike.

This only forced other entrances to be made, dividing the concentration of the enemy forces. And still, the Insurgian forces kept pouring into the battle, charging the city of Tabuk on three different sides, engaging from three different angles and getting pounded from three different divisions. Only a few miles away, Commander Ellison was already packing up his stuff and getting ready to move Command Camp from Spazk to Tabuk.

"Sir, we just got a telegram from Commander Connelly." said a radio operator, handing the telegram to the commander

The other division commanders soon circled around Ellison, awaiting to hear what Connelly had to say.

"What he say?" asked one of the other commanders.

"The Aradians and the Karaqi's have taken Hill 393 and the Victorians are falling back...hard." snarled Ellison.

"To Tabuk? How many?" some questioned.

"Everyone last god forsaken one of them..." finished Ellison, dropping the paper on the ground.

The other commanders cursed to themselves and sighed, going back to their stations.

The Siege of Tabuk would be longer than anticipated...

[Karaq]

September 18th, 5208, 4:00-5:00 PM
Jericho, The Islamic Republic of Aradia, Aradia
Hill 393, 25 miles from Tabuk

Bullets rained upon the hill as the battle between Aradian Liberation Forces and Victorian forces raged on. The Aradians had very little armor backing them up, but with the armor they did have, they used wisely against the incoming Victorian tankers. T-90 against T-90. The infantry, held up in the trenches, aiming down at the incoming enemy forces. For a few days now, the Aradian forces had been responsible for holding this hill so that the Victorians could not escape from Tabuk, their reinforcements, being the Karaqi's were as late as ever as they were due to be there yesterday with fresh supplies. Yesterday at exactly noon, the Victorian attack had commenced and the hill was being pounded by both artillery, infantry and tank fire.

"Fahim! Get out of the damn tank, it is going to blow!" yelled Haytham, with a strong Arabic accent.

The young boy was only blown backwards as the Karaqi T-90 was blown to bits, his friend inside most likely killed instantly or worse.

"Haytham, move your ass, we're falling back!" yelled another Aradian soldier.

The two ran up the hill for cover, firing their rifles, those being bolt action Karaqi rifles of sorts at the incoming enemy forces, missing most likely. (They are poorly trained) The two finally stopped at a single trench, a mortar positioned inside, the soldiers dropping the high explosive shells into the barrel, only to get shot back into the air. Haytham laid back against the dirt, awaiting his orders as the Sergeant confronted a radio operator.

"Where are the damn Karaqi's!?" asked the Sergeant, trying to talk over the gunfire, only then noticing the radio operator is in a Karaqi uniform.

"They are on their way sir! They sent me in advance, they said you needed a radio!" responded the operator.

"Right! We did! I need you to radio in targets for our artillery. Tanks, trucks and mortars. I don't care how you do it, just make sure they don't miss. Aziz, spot targets for the operator!" ordered the Sergeant.

The two then left up hill to spot targets, artillery fire was soon expected.

"Haytham, fire your rifle. Get in the fight boy!" yelled the Sergeant, opening up a crate, pulling out a Karaqi RPK.

The two sprayed into the field, dropping multiple Victorian soldiers as they ran up but some escorted by tanks. This however, was expected and within moments, the Victorian T-90, exploded. Artillery fire soon could be heard, whistling in the air and then landing on the designated target. Some missing but some hitting, sending infantry flying into the air. The two continued firing until the artillery fire ceased, letting the tank fire precede the dominate what could be heard.

Suddenly, a green flare quickly rose from the ground and into the air.

"Haha! It's the Karaqi's! They are here at last!" yelled the Sergeant, punching Haytham in the arm with a friendly tone.

Some in the trench line laughed with joy, this was soon silenced as a loud roar was heard from the bottom of the hill. Smoke grenades soon popped and smoke filled the area. Whistles were then heard and the Aradian soldiers, in fear ran from the trenches, going more up the hill.

"It's not the Karaqi's! Run boy! RUN!" yelled the Sergeant, pushing the boy up the hill.

The Aradians ran upward, fearing the incoming wave of T-90 tanks and infantry from multiple sides. A three side charge taking place and all they could do was sit there and fire back, doing minimal damage. Some Aradians, grabbed what anti-armor weapons they could and fired at the incoming tanks, knocking some out.

"Hold this hill! Do not let them pass friends! Allahu Akbar!" a patriotic Major yelled at his men, firing an AK-47 at the Aradian soldiers, killing them with ease.

This could only be kept up for so long, as the Victorians would soon overrun the hill, finally breaking the chain that was keeping them pinned in Tabuk. Until finally, a Karaqi Longsword flew overhead, dropping a Red Flare in as it flew over the hill. Immediately, more Longswords appeared in the distance, dropping bombs on the T-90's, destroying them at once. Karaqi IS's soon appeared over the sand hills, firing at the enemy. Pelican dropships, mowing down infantry as they ran away from the fight downhill.

Aradian soldiers, cheered as they were saved. They themselves, fired their guns into the air in celebration.

A single IS rolled unto the top of the hill, the hatch on the top of it popped open and a Karaqi officer by the looks of him hopped off. He approached the Major, two Karaqi soldiers helping any wounded that needed aid.

"I'm sorry I did not make it earlier...we had some business in Ramadi. Simple of course but nonetheless, command doesn't want any stragglers. I know you don't want to hear my excuse but no we are here." said the officer.

"It does not matter. Allah was with us till the end." remarked the Major.

"Heh, there really is no convincing your people otherwise. I thought I saw your men down the side of the hill." said the Karaqi.

"The dead ones...I want to take them home, they don't deserve to be buried here." said the Major in a sad tone.

"Well, they've certainly earned that." laughed the Karaqi

"It will end soon...they will surrender soon." smiled the Aradian.

"The Victorians? The Rebels? No, not while they still have a way out." said the tanker.

"That being?" asked the Major.

"Tabuk..." finished the Karaqi.

[MULICA]

September 19th, 5208, 11:00 PM-12:30 AM
Cormaranches, Occupied Arobithia, Exodus
Cormaranches Regional FOB, Mulica Internal Affairs Office

Propaganda Minister Molotov shuffles through the Cartload of old papers strewn out before him. Most of it was old junk that had no place in the 'Reformed Arobithia'. Workers' Rights Pamphlet, Arobithian Money (from before the Revolution), and Government Files (obviously from before the Revolution) all lay together in a single heap of scrap, decidedly dedicated to be destroyed. Doing his job without fuss, the Minister thumbs through each old file dated 5190-5205. He first sorts the out by the dates. Anything published before 5190 is promptly thrown into the dumbwaiter conveniently placed behind him. Those dated after 5205 meet the same fate. Most are just old Progress Reports and the like, but being as faithful as he was to his beloved CEO and Nation, Molotov carries on, doing just as he was told to do. Just before his eyes shut in disinterest and the words on the paper run together as one gigantic blurb of ink, something catches the Minister's eye. A single Military File, placed amongst countless Industrial Progress Reports. He opens it curiously, reading only the necessary parts.

"...Our plans have been secured and our response is concrete. We have made this Plan just four years in advanced, should the horrific deed come to pass within our lifetime. First a Critical Strike (CS) on Kaztain should take place. A Chemical Launch should occur just outside of Lacenas, and strike Kaztain just forty eight hours after the initial CCCP Attack. We say this should be a Chemical Launch, as the CA Military wishes to land in the City a little later, seizing it. Fedograd should also be hit promptly. A Nuclear Launch should occur a few miles outside of Moisselles, and strike Fedograd just forty eight hours after the initial CCCP Attack. Pripyat, being the third most populous City of Karaq, is a Prime Target (PT) as well. A single Anti Matter Launch should occur from WITHIN the National Capital of Cormaranches, and strike Pripyat just forty eight hours after the initial CCCP Attack. These three strikes alone, should break the Economic Backbone of Karaq and the CCCP. Further Launches will occur, but will be far less important the Big Three..." It reads, repetitively.

He reads the front of the File, looking for any particular Mailing Addresses. This was clearly very sensitive information, that was published soon before or after the Reach War, talking about a Counter Strike upon the CCCP after a WMD Based Attack. The cover of the mostly normal looking Folder has the EAI Military Crest upon it. Mailing addresses could not be found, nor could any origination marks be found on the document. Classified Stamps can faintly be made out below the Crest along with the Date Tab. Finding no clear source for the document, the Minister remembers the City names. Lacenas, Moisselles, and even the City in which he was staying now, Cormaranches were all Launch Sites for UWIII. This hunt, would have to be carried out the hard way. However, the rewards would be great. The vast knowledge of WMDs Mulica had not yet obtained. This new threat, could bring Mulica to the Universal Stage. Not as a Client State, or a good little Ally, but as a Power that could bring the archaic Capitalist Powers to their knees (as if they were not already).

"Are you ready Sir? It would seem you have reached your final File... The Prop Posters and Useless Files have been sorted into the Cart downstairs, and just as you have ordered, the currency has been transferred to the International Bank and transferred to the Silver Exchange, just in time too. Your Carriage awaits Comrade." States a lanky Major, pointing towards the door. The appointment had finally come. It was time.

Molotov nods and stands up. The Minister wraps his arms around the mountain of paper in front of him, picking it up with great difficulty. Small scraps of paper and whatnots fall everywhere, littering the floor with what used to be very valuable documents. He carelessly stuffs the papers into the dumbwaiter, shutting the door firmly behind them. He pulls the lever, and waits patiently. The small elevator moans and groans as it falls further and further to the first floor. Hearing the satisfying crash of the dumbwaiter hitting the first floor, he himself walks down the Office's stairs, and out of the Main Door. His lackeys are soon to follow, carrying with them the dumbwaiters which had carried the papers to and fro all day.The now disconnected elevators are thrown into the horse drawn Cart. The Minister and his Followers get into a Car not too far behind. The valuable WMD Document is stuffed securely in Molotov's Coat.

The ride does not take long, and the small Moter(?)cade soon arrives at its destination: The now abandoned Industrial Sector of the City. It is remote, and Guard Towers line the Road to it's Complex. Soldiers pace back and forth in them. The Car and Carriage stop at a single Factory, which appears to be surrounded by Soldiers and Citizens alike. Bloodied Picket signs litter the ground. 'General Strike', 'Unite and Fight', and 'Drive the Parasite from the Land!' can be read on the battered wooden faces. Stepping out of his limo like Car, the Minister lights a cigar. He is handed a list, and begins to read it aloud. He puffs on his cigar whist doing so. Meanwhile, the Cart is emptied... Papers are scattered along the base of the Factory, later to be soaked with gasoline.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Industrial Workers Union of Cormaranches, you have been gathered here today, for your ultimate end. Execution by fire. You have been found guilty of Aiding the Anarchist Enemy, by Striking when your new Nation needs you most. Sangheili and Human Enemy Captured, you have been gathered here today, for repayment. Today you will pay in full for your War Crimes, the cost being your life. Anyone else inside, you have simply been deemed an Enemy of any future Communist State on Exodus, and must be dealt with appropriately. Well that's that. So long... May whatever lie beyond be worth Striking for. Or fighting for." He says, taking the barely burning cigar out of his mouth. He throws it at the papers surrounding the Mill.

Flames leap up from the paper, and soon, the entire building is engulfed in a blaze. Banging and shouts can be heard coming from the Doors and Windows. However, all attempts to flee prove useless as all exits were welded shut after the Roundup. Fire slowly but surely peeks over the second story windows. Smoke, faster than ever, pours out of the Textile Mill's Smokestacks. Only a few moments later, the inferno reaches the Factory's Pressurized Boiler, which results in a massive explosion, reaching high into the midnight sky. Everyone inside, is surely killed. In the meantime, Molotov and his Men watch the spectacle in awe, but soon leave out of disinterest. The empty Cart is brought back to the Stables from which it was stolen, and the Minister moves on to the next City, Lacenas, where the first sinister step of Molotov's Hunt will begin... And the same scene will be repeated again in Factories around the Planet. This, for Mulican Leadership however, is but a tragic footnote of the War.

[Vorstus]

September 17th, 5208, 3:43 AM
Victorian Space, Over Iagawa, The Battle Site
Armada Movements

The Walls close in upon the Victorian Enemy. Slowly, Vorstinian Fighters and smaller Craft, in all of their technological greatness, thrust forward into the vast sea of ARC Fighters. Encirclement followed by destruction seems to be the leading strategy for both sides. Dog Fights across the Battle Site however, persist until the very end. This is caused by Fanatics on both sides breaking off from the "Official" Battle Plans and fighting for no other reason than self fulfillment. "Death to Capitalist", and vice versa can be heard over Radios, most of the time covering up actually important Battle Orders. As a result of this great disorganization (later on at least), Organized Warfare degenerates into a Mass Dogfight, which consumes the entire Perimeter of the Planet. Both Belligerent Parties take heavy (but equal) losses as a result of this wild Stone Throwing Contest. This, doesn't last long though.

Soon, both the Victorians and Vorstinians alike retaliate against this rebellious fighting form. The Victorians act first. It starts, ironically, on the Planet below. Several Orbs of green light can be seen shooting up, out of the Atmosphere, and into Iagawa Space. It soon becomes apparent, these things are surely not Orbs, but Pillars. A High Altitude Cannon. In an indecisive blast, Pillars of Green cover the Battle Site, indiscriminately killing the Enemy, and their own Men. These near nuclear sized blast are strong, but only last for a matter of seconds. A few go blind, and end up crashing, but those who did not idiotically stare into the light, go on as if nothing happened. The shock however, triggers a silence among most (if not all) Radio Channels, that allows order to be restored to the fight. Encirclement Attacks ensue once more (to the great relief of opposing Generals).

The Vorstinians were the next to make their 'End Move' as many Tacticians called them. The obscure yet titanic Karaqi Fleet got the order in a two simple words: 'End Game.'. This was the phrase the men of the Armada had been waiting to hear for over three days. In a hate, anger, revenge fueled rage, the Communist push into Battle, guns ablaze, hearts aflame. Most of the Fleets that composed the Armada were made before the Reach War, in the times when Karaqi Militarism was still a rampant force not to be reckoned with. Two out of eight of every one of these mass produced Shuttles were defunct in some way. Broken Glassing Mechanisms, inefficient Oxygen Recyclers, and the like, all lead to the rather shoddy quality of the Karaqi Navy (pre Reach War mind you). However, in mass numbers, anything could be scary. And now, refitted with the latest Glassing Technology and Missile Capabilities, this Super Armada was, once again, an almost unstoppable force. And now, it closed in on the Victorian Traitors with unrelenting retribution.

The Days of Victorian Naval Superiority are numbered...

September 17th, 5208, 4:00 AM
Nearing Victorian Space, Aboard the FGSS. Harbourtown
Central Meeting Hall

Admiral Binkowski sits in assigned seat, smiling happily at the result of Operation End Game. The Enemy had been captured in the final prong of the Flank, and was currently being destroyed. Those who try escaping through the gaps in the Prongs, are either being dealt with by the FGSS. Relentless or Harbourtown as they patrol the surrounding Space. Almost nothing could escape. Although, with victory over the Supreme Leaders' Navy soon at hand, challenges arose. Fanatical Attacks occurred on a daily basis, attacking essential Vorstinian and Karaqi Leadership, along with critical Ships involved in supporting or defending the Prongs. These would include Shuttles like the Harbourtown, Relentless, Archangel, and Ships like them. In his excitement, the Admiral almost entirely drifts away from the Meeting at hand. He quickly snaps back into reality, realizing it is never good to get even ahead of yourself.

"And now, the greatest threat posed to our dominance in this Planets' Space is not only a Military Threat, but a Environmental Threat. Aside from the High Altitude Cannon the Enemy has somehow acquired on the Ground, we face a new cause for concern about our Security in the Region. A huge Plasma Storm, branching off from the Karstis Nebula is expected to arrive near Iagawa's Atmosphere around nine o'clock next Monday. It is unnaturally large, and may last up to two weeks, give or take a few days. Normally, such an Environmental Occurrence would be overlooked, but this effects... Or we presume... Only us. The Victorians, living so close to such an active Nebula, have most certainly by now made Armor durable enough to withstand the strength of a Plasma Storm... We have no such capabilities and are currently unable to make the necessary leaps and strides to make and distribute it before the two week deadline. Point being, we need to think of something else to do, and PRONTO." States Larkin, reading from the Weather Report he had gotten just before the Meeting had come into session.

A few tired glances are exchanged throughout the Room, and eventually, everybody stares at the Admiral. All of a sudden, it seems as if HE of all people is the answers guy. He thinks on the issue for a moment. A storm... That last for two weeks or a little more... That they can get through, but we cant... It was a troubling one, but cleverly, Binkowski works it out to the final detail. He stands up, announcing his proposal.

"If we stay here, or even close to here, we will be torn apart in a matter of hours. We need to fortify what we can while we are still here. Lay Mines. Put a few Radiation Bombs here and there. Make artificial Icebergs. Anything that can slow down their Reinforcement of this Planets Low Orbit and Upper Atmosphere. When it comes, we fall back to the Planets' Outer Moon, where we will Orbit and recover until it all blows over. We can fight on later." He grunts, giving the obvious response everybody KNEW he would submit.

"Admiral, with all due respect Sir, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. If we give these Yellow Reds time to recover, and possibly Rally another Fleet, it may already be too late. We need to keep them under fire, and still be there physically. Besides, we're running on a schedule here. We need to get landings done by the time Late October hits, or else, our Invasion will be bogged down in the mud and gunk of the Rainy Season. So, again, any Ideas? Anybody?" Groans the Brigadier to all of his Comrades.

The Admiral sneers at the Racial Slur thrown before him. Damn it, in Karaq, people may hate each other to the Grave and Beyond, but at least they insult them accordingly. He watches a young looking Officer in the back lifts his head to face Larkin and soon addresses him. His voice is deep and his uniform is ragged and blood stained. This young man, despite being quite the HR for his age, still was forced into Battle... Or he sought it... Binkowski couldn't tell anymore, with the times as they are. A majority of kids have some sort of bloodlust these days, or something like that.

"What 'bout the Karaqis?" He ask in thickest Insurgian Accent possible.

"What about 'em?" Larkin responds.

"Well Sir, they have been Allied with the Sup'reme Leader for many years now. An ordinary Man would suppose they shared common Technology as such. Maybe we could do a Trade Off... As you Yanks would call it... Dur'in the storm, we go for their Planet'ary Target, while they go for ours. Afterwards, we switch back 'round. See what I'm sayin?" He ask, his dialect almost laughable.

The rest of the Table, along with Larkin, nod in agreement. It seems there would be a future for an Occupied Space Front after all. Binkowski rises up, gesturing for all hands (which had raised up at the end of the Insurgians question) to go down. Soon, they do, and the Admiral gives his last Opinion.

"In that case, we will send the Communiqué in a few hours. If they are unavaible, or don't get the Message somehow, we will stick to the original Plan. Until then, standby, and wait to make headway at any given moment. The same goes with both of our Armadas. This Meeting is dismissed" He says, taking the reigns from Larkin all at once.

The Military Staff, despite it not being from Larkin's Command, leave the Meeting Hall. With a few dirty looks exchanged, and an almost unholy silence between them, both Larkin and Binkowski leave the Auditorium. They avoid each other for the rest of the week, as the Plan finally comes together, and the final period is put on the Letter to the Separate Karaqi Armada over Voruta.

[Karaq]

September 21st, 5208, 12:00 N
Ulyanovsk Oblast, The Vorutan Republica, Voruta
Karaqi 43rd Rifle Regiment

Slowly but surely, a company of IS-2's rolled slowly through the meadows of Voruta. The tall grass waving in the wind and some being crushed by the stampeding tanks. Behind the company of tanks, the 43rd Rifle Regiment followed. Leading them, was Lieutenant Colonel Romanov, a renowned war hero from the Gornyy voyny or Mountain War that took place almost 3 years ago on Genesis. He walked steadily, directly behind the IS that rolled maybe 20 or 30 yards ahead of him. Already the Regiment had gone through 4 different towns, all of them ghost towns. The next establishment up ahead was the city of Ulyanovsk, a key supply train to the Victorian forces. The silence was interrupted by the eager question of a Private.

"Sir? What would you say the timeline is?" asked the Private.

"Zelin, you know exactly what the timeline is. You were there, remember?" responded Romanov, holding his SVD closely.

"I know sir, I just wish to know from your point of view. How long do you think we'll be here?" Zelin proceeded.

"Well, we landed on the 9th. Took Kanteme on the 12th and then after a week, we haven't made contact with at least one other soul on this damn planet. So, the best I can say at this time is, they've either retreated to Ulyanovsk, or they are doing a damn good job of hiding." argued the Officer.

"That still doesn't answer my que-" he was interrupted.

"The last 2 wars I was in, only lasted up to half a year maximum...this war, because it evidently is a war, is coming up on it's 7th month. Which means, this is the longest war Karaq has had in almost 200 years. So with the odds currently in our favor, I can say this war doesn't have a lot of fuel left to keep running." finished Romanov.

Zelin was silenced, a few other privates quietly laughing at him.

Suddenly, the tanks stopped as they came upon the peak of a ridge. Romanovs' eyes widened and he suddenly crouched and moved forward towards the back of the tank he was following, pulling out a radio from the back of it and speaking into it.

"Colonel, the Regiment is in position. We're awaiting your orders." the sniper began.

Another voice is heard on the other end.

"Yes, sir. Consider it done." he put the radio back into the tank.

"Regiment, prepare for assault on the signal! You know the plan, divide into groups of three and take that city. Easy as rubles." denounced the Lieutenant Colonel.

Within minutes, a loud whistling sound was heard and from the horizon behind them, ballistic missiles flew through the sky, arching downward towards the city in front of them. Instantly, the missiles hit their designated targets, causing fire to engulf parts of the city. Romanov blew his whistle, the tanks rumbled forward and the infantry yelled as they charged forward towards the city. Longsword fighters and Pelican gunships soon descended from the atmosphere, aiding the Regiment in their assault of the city.