"Homo Homini Lupus" [WOTE Sub-Plot/TG for entry/MT]

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

The Ausitorian Civil Service, and by extension the entire government, was not pleased.

5 days. Until Naybra was prepared to let formal negotiations start! A lot could happen in five days! For a start, the careful balance built up between Maverica, TNL, and Firmador's air force vs. Volvek, Mizrad, and Treneria could be destroyed. There was already a worrying message from the Soodean Imperium to Mizrad which was far too well encrypted to be decoded. Practically everybody was taking sides, which made trying to enforce a peace a difficult business.

Frantic behind-the-scenes petitions to Naybra to negotiate by communique had failed. So, as usual, it was time to seize the initiative; and the best way of seizing the initiative was to act.

---

To: The Senate of Panessos
From: The Foreign Policy Office, The Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria
Encryption: Freely available

---

Honoured Senators,

In the interests of avoiding unnecessary deaths, we have taken it upon ourselves to draft for your perusal a draft peace treaty, ready for immediate signing; and we submit it for your perusal and modification.

---

General Treaty

Signed

At Naybra City,

Between The Republic of Mizrad, Maverica, Treneria, and the Panessos Government

The parties assembled, being equally desirous of coming to an amicable understanding upon the measures most proper to adopt for the resumption of a lasting peace, and wishing at the same time to advance the cause of justice, to establish compensation for acts previously committed and herein agreed, and for placing the intercourse of the inhabitants, in respect to commerce, upon the most advantageous footing; hereby agreed upon the following measures:

Article 1. The Republics of Mizrad, Maverica, and Treneria hereby acknowledge the complaints of the wider regional community for their acts of war and agree to cease all acts of war immediately and withdraw their forces back to home territory.

Article 2. The Republics of Mizrad and Treneria hereby acknowledge the complaints of the signatories for the past commitment of war crimes against Mavericans, and undertake to deal with the perpetrators by the application of justice with their national disciplinary/criminal procedures.

Article 3. The Republic of Maverica hereby acknowledges the complaints of the signatories for their systematic bombing of civilian targets, and agrees to join the Panessos Free Trade Zone in compensation.

Article 4. The Republics of Mizrad and Treneria hereby acknowledge Maverican complaints about the extensive seizure of land in past conflicts, and agree that such lands defined in Article 7 should be turned into a memorial park and demilitarized zone to be patrolled and controlled by the regional government and their executors.

Article 5. The Regional Government and The Republic of Maverica each undertake to each provide one-third of market compensation to displaced persons in such territories.

Article 6. The Republics of Mizrad, Maverica, and Treneria hereby relinquish all their claims for past acts committed against each other, be they pecuniary, judicial, or territorial claims.

Article 7. The demilitarized zone shall occupy the area defined as shown below:

Article 8. All disputes relating to these provisions shall be referred to the regional courts.

---

We have the honour to remain, etc.,
Dame Fionna Orpolov,
Deputy Foreign Permanent Under-secretary of State,
The United Realms of Libraria and Ausitoria

[Naybra]

Ministry of Internal Affairs
Temporary Headquarters
Naybra City, Naybra

---

To: The Senate of Panessos
From: The Foreign Policy Office, The Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria
Encryption: Freely available

---

Honoured Senators,

In the interests of avoiding unnecessary deaths, we have taken it upon ourselves to draft for your perusal a draft peace treaty, ready for immediate signing; and we submit it for your perusal and modification.

---

General Treaty

Signed

At Naybra City,

Between The Republic of Mizrad, Maverica, Treneria, and the Panessos Government

The parties assembled, being equally desirous of coming to an amicable understanding upon the measures most proper to adopt for the resumption of a lasting peace, and wishing at the same time to advance the cause of justice, to establish compensation for acts previously committed and herein agreed, and for placing the intercourse of the inhabitants, in respect to commerce, upon the most advantageous footing; hereby agreed upon the following measures:

Article 1. The Republics of Mizrad, Maverica, and Treneria hereby acknowledge the complaints of the wider regional community for their acts of war and agree to cease all acts of war immediately and withdraw their forces back to home territory.

Article 2. The Republics of Mizrad and Treneria hereby acknowledge the complaints of the signatories for the past commitment of war crimes against Mavericans, and undertake to deal with the perpetrators by the application of justice with their national disciplinary/criminal procedures.

Article 3. The Republic of Maverica hereby acknowledges the complaints of the signatories for their systematic bombing of civilian targets, and agrees to join the Panessos Free Trade Zone in compensation.

Article 4. The Republics of Mizrad and Treneria hereby acknowledge Maverican complaints about the extensive seizure of land in past conflicts, and agree that such lands defined in Article 7 should be turned into a memorial park and demilitarized zone to be patrolled and controlled by the regional government and their executors.

Article 5. The Regional Government and The Republic of Maverica each undertake to each provide one-third of market compensation to displaced persons in such territories.

Article 6. The Republics of Mizrad, Maverica, and Treneria hereby relinquish all their claims for past acts committed against each other, be they pecuniary, judicial, or territorial claims.

Article 7. The demilitarized zone shall occupy the area defined as shown below:

Article 8. All disputes relating to these provisions shall be referred to the regional courts.

---

We have the honour to remain, etc.,
Dame Fionna Orpolov,
Deputy Foreign Permanent Under-secretary of State,
The United Realms of Libraria and Ausitoria

Minister McHall studied the Treaty that had just been brought in to him from an advisory. The Commonwealth's Foreign Policy Office was right. Five days was far too long for conflict to continue. Hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers had already perished as the conflict reached the dawn of the third day. To travel to Naybra in five days was a ridiculous time-frame. Why had McHall though that? Luckily, no replies had been received from either Mizrad or Maverica, much less the allied Treneria. With a deep breath, McHall continued to study the document in front of him, resting his head on the upward facing palm of his right hand. Had he failed already? Could he fix his mistake? Was there some way to push the conference forward? He hadn't been in the position that long, and he already goofed up. It would soon seem like Libraria and Ausitoria were running the show for him. Of course, McHall could just ignore the proposed treaty that had been drafted, but doing so would only slow the process down in what he thought was a reasonable timeline and expose even greater the lack of power and progress the regional government currently had.

He had to fix his mistake. The best he could hope for now would be to blame it on a clarification error and hope he kept his his posting, but serious doubts were beginning to cross his mind. He had planned this all out on this exact timeline. First would be initial communication, next would be telegram confirmation, followed by delegation and observer arrival. The Peace Conference would adopt an agenda, discuss the points, and then sign. Case closed. Problem solved. But apparently, politics isn't that easy; something he knew from the start, but hoped, in this case, he would be wrong. However, McHall had dedicated himself to this mission, and he would not back down. He got to work typing, and hoped the response would wait until he could fix this error, and save hundreds more from unjust bloodshed...

---

To: The Presidential Office of the Republic of Mizrad, President Ryan West, The Presidential Office of the Republic of Maverica, President Justin, & The Office of the Executive Power of the Republic of Treneria
CC: The Panessos Community
From: Panessos Ministry of Internal Affairs, The Office of the Minister - Minister Davis McHall
Encryption: Open

---

Dear Esteem Republics

I have sent this communique in response to a clerical error. It has been pointed out by Libraria and Ausitoria's Foreign Policy Office, as well as the Panessos Community, that the timeline of the conference could be misinterpreted, and in some cases, may have. This peace conference has been authorized by the Mizrad-Maverica Mediation Act, passed by the Panessos Senate the evening of last night. The Ministry of Internal Affairs, in accordance with the overall mission statement and Article 1, calls for an immediate cease to all engagements and conflict in the designated region by all parties involved. Failure to comply will be met with repercussion. We also are holding a peace conference, who's negotiation shall last five days before the signing of a treaty to restore peace to the area. We ask delegations be composed and sent prepared to the capital city of Naybra City from the nations of:

• The Republic of Mizrad
• The Republic of Maverica
• The Republic of Treneria

Observers from other non-mentioned nations are welcome, but may have no input in negotiation. With the submission of a General Treaty by the Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria, I wish for all parties mentioned above to review the terms and select the Articles they wish to be modified and adapted. As mentioned before, we will begin with the adoption of an agenda, and shall preside until all discussion topics have been worked out. I eagerly await your replies and the arrival of your delegations.

Your Sincererly,
Minister Davis McHall
Panessos Minister of Internal Affairs

[The Lendol Archipelago]

The diplomat's helicopter had finally set down, the plans had changed in the last minute, originally planned to fly in was Elijah Dorzuul the Vuunthreck or the President to English speakers, his PA Stacy Willfrun, the Vaarfick called oddly enough Brutus. That was his only name, Dorzuul laughed away all people who thought it was a bad omen. He trusted Brutus more than anyone else. The two pilots and five other government officials. Instead Elijah Dorzuul and Brutus remained in Lendolusia, preventing them being placed in any danger. They had flew from Lendolusia Airport to Naybra City. Dorzuul wanted them wanted to sit in on the negotions, to push The Lendol Archipelago closer to the world stage and to get more involved in the region.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

After a fun little bit of background diplomacy in preparation, Ausitoria started to fly in the sort of delegation they had now standardized on: four robots the height of a normal human, able to trundling around with three legs or by tracks, depending on whether they extended the legs or not. They were bristling with sensors - lidar, cameras, antennae - and each had monitors for heads, thus allowing all of the hundreds of civil servants who would be analysing the conference to take part remotely. It saved on carbon emissions, saved on jet lag (although there wouldn't have been much flying to Naybra anyway), saved on travelling time, and, most importantly, saved on possible hostage scenarios.

Flying in at supersonic speeds on the newly merged WION network, the robots were naturally accompanied by a few technicians in case anything went wrong and they had to be carried in or out, for the robots were not really very good at navigating steps, and there was always the possibility of electrical faults. However, unlike in Loufe, where such technicians had been special operatives as well, the Ausitorian government did not consider hostages likely, and anyway they had a carrier fleet nearby, so it had been decided that the technicians could go and explore the sites during the conference.

Even though they had to enjoy the sites at their own expense, it was a highly contested job, with thousands of technicians applying for it, and Thomas Underwood and Marcus Anantoni were the lucky technicians who had won it. They sat back in the Javelin - sipping posh complementary drinks (supersonic airliners didn't do economy class) - and contemplating brochures. They had decided lunch at the seafront would be a good place to start.

As far as everybody in Ausitoria was concerned, this would simply be a routine decision to enforce a peace settlement, and then everybody could stop shooting at each other and get back to buying Ausitorian services and goods.

[Nerod Empire]

Isop
Building of the Executive Cabinet
Floor 45, Foreign Affairs

Executive Secretary Franklin Wish was away in an Alliance Summit, however he was still sending orders for his people.
The last one was forming a Committe of Diplomats for the Mizrad-Maverica Negotiations. The people chosen for this task were:
-Prince Kalym Nerod.
-PDC Agent 50.
-Admiral John Farwind.
They would go with an escort of 30 soldiers and 10 lesser PDC Agents. They would travel to Naybra the day after tomorrow.

[Maverica]

Maverican front lines at the Border

Major Brando waked up in his bunker. He reached for his pistol and stood up. The Mizrad artillery seemed to slow down but the bombs continued to fall. Brando stood up and put his helmet on and walked out into the trench. The men were playing cards or sitting on benches waiting out the artillery. Brando walked down the trench to Sargent Dickson. They both saluted.
"How you doing Major?" Said Dickson
"I am still alive." Replied Brando.
"Good. When do you think the Mizrads will attack?" Said Dickson
"Good question. In my time in the first war with them they rely to much on planes." Said Brando.
"Only if we made our attack more quickly instead of fooling around we might of broke the Mizrad lines." Replied Dickson.
"Exactly. I better go now. Bye" said Brando as he left.
"Bye." Said Dickson as he pulled out a jerky stick.

Brando walked down the trench to the exit. He looked around for artillery shells and ran to the command bunker. He entered the room seeing General Johnson sitting and General Henry in a wheelchair.
"What happened to Henry?" Asked Brando.
"He took in some shrapnel." Said Johnson
"Oh. Well the real reason I came was to ask what is going on?" Said Brando.
"Our troops been taking cover from artillery and bombs. While our anti aircraft guns and anti aircraft missiles been shooting down Mizrad planes. Our artillery is all set up and is ready to fire in safety behind the ridge. Also our fighters are in a frenzy up in the air. Also a few bunkers, vehicles and men were hit." Said General Henry.
"Thanks for the update sir." Said Brando as he saluted and walked back to his trench. As he walked back he seen several places were hit with bombs and artillery. He jumped into his trench and sat down to play cards with some of his men.

As Brando played cards the Maverican anti aircraft systems were firing at any aircraft found on the few radars left on the front lines. But now the artillery joined in behind the ridge. The artillery thundered launching shells at Fort Thomas, Avery's Valley and other Mizrad defenses. The artillery used included rocket artillery, light artillery, heavy artillery, heavy duty artillery (200mm to 300mm artillery.). The artillery also fired different rounds like incendiary, explosive, high explosive, and normal rounds were all launched at their targets.



Above the battlefield

Maverican fighters were making good progress against the Mizrad bombers. But now on the radars in the planes noticed fighters headed towards the Mavericans. Then meanwhile the Maverican pilots seen Mizrad F-25 fighters fly by. The commander of the Maverican planes Commander Larry turned on the private radio for his pilots.
"Holy sh*t!! Mizrad F-25s incoming! Get our F-29s and F-22s to fight the F-25s. Our F-18s fly F-15s fly down to shoot up the Mizrad fighter destroying our anti aircraft guns." Yelled Larry as he seen a few Maverican F-22s and F-18s fall to the ground. The Maverican F-29s and F-22s formed up in arrow formations and charged into the Mizrad F-25s. Larry was in the front and primed his weapons. Just then he fired a missile and pressed the trigger on the auto cannon. Once he did all of the other Maverican fighters open fired at the F-25s. They fired air to air missiles, and their auto cannons.
Meanwhile closer to the ground Maverican anti-aircraft guns were taking hits but fired at the Mizrad F-18s and warthogs with SAMs,anti aircraft missiles, 50 cal explosive bullet mini guns, and anti aircraft auto cannons. But now out of the sky came Maverican F-18s firing their air to air missiles, and auto cannons above the Mizrad F-18s and Warthogs. The fight for the sky has reached a new level.


West coast of Mizrad

Admiral Jones was aboard his flagship looking at the radar. A large force of unidentified planes were in the area. He looked at a Captain Percy.
"What should we do?" Asked Admiral Jones.
"I think we should stand our ground and call for help from Port May or Brandy Island." Said Percy
"Alright. You call for help and I will order to keep firing at the Mizrads." Said Jones

One destroyer was sinking and others damaged but they continued to fight. The only ship that only suffered minor damage was Admiral Jones's Battleship the Goldenburg. The ships continued to fire cruise missiles, tomahawk missiles and naval artillery. Back on the Goldenburg Jones ordered a volley of artillery, cruise missiles, and tomahawk missiles at the Mizrad Flagship from his ship.


Brandy Island
At Brandy island Maverican radio operators got the message from Admiral Jones for help. The message was given to Commander Drake. He read the message and quickly ordered three destroyers, one battleship and one cruiser to get ready to sail to the battle. Crews ran around on the docks loading the ships or getting on themselves. They will soon be ready.



Maverican Highlands (Issac Mountains)

In the cold mountains in Northern Maverica a 15 year old boy named Alex Grent was in the forest with 9 of his friends the same age. They were hunting for food and scouting the area for the Maverican militia and army. Just then Alex seen something.
"Get down!" Said Alex quietly. It was quiet and cold but something was not right. He looked up from the ground and seen some people moving slowly. He took out his binoculars and seen something that scared him cold.....Mizrad soldiers. Alex looked at his freinds.
"Mizrad....soldiers..." Said Alex.
James a friend of Alex looked at him.
"I will go down to alert the nearby Maverican bases. Alex you and the rest stay here and try to cause some trouble. I will come back with help." Said James. As he ran down the mountain.

Alex looked at the guns the boys had. They had two M1 Grand modified hunting/sharps going version, two M16, three M4, and two BAR. They also had revolvers and two Colt 1911. They also had knives and small throwing axes.
"John. I want you and your hunting group to set up on the hill to the left 200 yards to the left . Me and the others with set up on that small cliff just 150 yards away. The Mizrads will need to come through this little dip to get to our bases quickly and efficiently. If we just hide in the brush and ambush them we will be able to kill a number of them till our bases are alerted. Let's go! Kill some Mizrads !" Said Alex as he picked up his M16 and walked to the ridge. The others quickly took their positions behind boulders, trees, and logs till they were blended into their surroundings and waited for the Mizrads to come .

Meanwhile down the trail James was running down to the nearest bases as fast as he could. He just then came to a small village on a hill were Maverican militia and soldiers were. James ran into town.
"The Mizrads are coming! The Mizrads are coming!" Yelled James as he ran through town till he found his father. He was the commander of about 1,000 militia and 500 Soldiers.
"Dad! The Mizrads are coming through Marston Clemp Pass!" Said James to his father Michael.
"Good job son for telling us. But were is the others!?" Said Michael.
"They stayed behind to buy some time." Said James
"We must help them quickly! We must get them to safety and defend the pass! No man left behind!" Said Michael
Just as he said that soldiers started to spread the word of the Mizrad invasion. As the word spread more troops gathered at the small village.


Maverica city
President Justin was in the war room with his military advisers discussing plans to defeat Mizrad. But then Secretary of War Tristan Caster stood up.
"I would like to propose a way to defeat Mizrad by cutting off their raw supplies." Said Tristan
"But where do they get them?" Asked a man.
"In Desteriaro. It is a little shabby colony. Not much resistance so it is easy pickings. And plus those materials will then be ours!" Said Tristan
"Like the idea. We will have General Johnson in charge of the invasion force . They will leave from Fort Tim with a large force. When they get to their destination they will storm the beaches quickly and take over the colony. Now gentlemen that settles it!" Said President Justin as he wrote a letter to Destinado Tierra.

From: Maverica
To: Destinado
Hello. You have caught our attention of that your goverment has been very corrupt to it's people. So I am willing to help you overthrow the goverment to form a new goverment that will treat it's people with respect. But in return Maverica wants to have a few military bases in your country and a trade agreement between us.

Sincerely
President Justn

[Fallenrun]

Sat in his office, Arkus was browsing some of the reports of some military exercises between the Imperial Federation's Land and air forces. The exercise was going well and so far the commanders from their respective nations were working together well despite the recent tensions between Drakia and Mislau. Then Arkus opened the next report. It was about the fleet movements of several TCA members and the war in the east. After reading and calling for several of his advisors and had a small meeting decided that sending a large naval and marine task force under the guise of the HPC to join the TCA fleet of the coast of the eastern continent in question via Eirtac was the best way of hopefully enforcing peace. He sent a quick telegram to Eirtac about the decision so they didn't get spooked by 12 carrier groups sailing by. Then he gave the orders. He silently hoped that nothing would force him to use the Federation's military force in anything other than peace keeping but he knew better, knowing the certain nations involved relationship, he doubted the conference would do anything.

Island of Drakia, off the north eastern coast of Fallenrun
Admiral Schmitz was reading the orders in his office and handed them to his aide. "Send the relevant orders." He commanded the aide. "Sir!" Said the aide as he saluted and left. Soon the ports on the island became frantic with activity as 5 carrier groups prepared to leave and meat up with another 7 carrier groups out to sea. A large marine contingent loaded up onto their transport vessels with their vehicles and supplies.

Nova Imperialis, Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Preparations where being made to send some robots to the conference. Nothing more than a screen and a Web cam on some wheels with a weird looking satellite array. Several techs and the robots were loaded onto a plane and began their trip to the peace conference.

[Eirtac]

Dictator Crow's personal house and office
Crow sat in his office as he stared out the large window looking over the estate in which he worked and lived. He heard a knock at the door "Come In" he shouted. An aide scuttled into the rom as Crow swivelled in his chair to face him. " I've got news Sir an telegram just came in from Arkus of Fallenrun our allies they said that they would be sending 12 carrier groups to the war in the east via Eirtac where several member of the TCa have stationed fleets Arkus is sending them under the HPC" said the aide in one big flurry. " Interesting" mumbled Crow " Send out a resupply team out to them when they arrive and Also if they are going I think ill join them and help with the peacekeeping, Send Admiral Omen with 20 carrier groups and send Arkus a telegram explaining this " said Crow with a smile " OH and while your at it send a person to the conference" the aide sighed but nodded " Yes Sir" as he ran off.

Military port of Graven on the coast of Eirtac
Admiral Omen sat in his office as a private ran in " Sorry to disturb sir but we have orders to meet with a Fallenrun fleet heading to the war in the east to help bring peacew e are to meet with Fallenrun with a resupply team and 20 carrier Groups Sir" he shouted out " Good Private tell the sergeant to get them ready to go" the Private saluted as he ran away down the hall Omen sighed " God what has he got in his mind now" he thought as he stood up and stared out of his window down at men below.

[The Soodean Imperium]

Nuclear Submarine ISS Shya'tsaoyu
About 500 kilometers east of Mislau
Eosian Ocean

"Captain!" the sensors officer called out as his ship's commander hurried through the narrow hallway outside. "Captain, you may want to have a look at this."

The Captain frowned, then nodded and stepped into the sonar instruments room. "What do you have to report?"

"It's the cavitation signals we've been listening to for the last few days, sir. They've drawn closer into passive sonar range, and based on the strength and nature of the engine noise, we've been able to estimate the size and composition of their formation."

"Very good, Lieutenant. Prepare a report and submit it to my office, I have to meet with the quartermaster now."

"Sir, it's..." The sensors officer paused, swallowed, then regained his composure. "The fleet is much larger than our initial estimates suggested, sir. So far, we've been able to identify ten likely capital-ship-grade engines, and there's a strong likelihood that several more are running in the background; with this many noise sources, we can't get anything beyond a vague estimate. By tracking the strength and direction of the sound, though, we've determined that their fleet started heading west-south-west after passing the Cape at Mislau, and is now headed directly for the Maverican theatre."

"S'choda," the Captain murmured under his breath. "At least ten carrier-sized ships in a single formation? That's not a blockade, that's an invasion force. Those kinds of numbers can only mean..." He froze, then looked up at the sensors officer, his face caught in a momentary expression of terror. "How many escorts? What's their distance? Are they close enough to see us?"

"Negative, Captain. A fleet of large warships makes a lot more noise than a single quieted submarine, and as long as we don't get any closer we can continue to monitor them while remaining out of sight."

"Good. Now hold on here and continue feeding me data as it appears; I'm going to re-route us southward, head out of range into the open ocean, and transmit a coded message over Sat-Com. CMC needs to know about this as soon as possible."

City of Changzha, Lu Province, The Soodean Imperium

"I take it you've seen the latest reports," Admiral Kazuo Matsushita said as he strode down the Naval Headquarters' main hall beside his superior officer.

"Yes, I have, and they leave me ill at ease," Fleet Admiral Tsur replied. "This situation is getting out of hand. It's escalated far too quickly."

"What do you propose we do about it? We can't afford to confront hundreds of ships at once."

"And we can't afford to do nothing, either. This is a serious development, Matsushita, and I don't speak lightly when I say that it could blossom into the defining national threat of our decade. If the TCA manages to extract a favorable outcome with this blockade, it will set a dangerous precedent for future 'enforcement' actions."

"Ironic, isn't it? Until recently, there was speculation in High Command that Firmador could be the greatest threat to local security. Yet in the end, it was the collapse of their government that upset the balance of power in the region."

"Which is why we must act quickly to restore that balance." Fleet Admiral Tsur slowed to a halt, then turned to his subordinate. "Admiral Matsushita, I want you to take the Sea Combat elements of the Second Fleet and sail to the west, around the Cape of Firmador. The Third Fleet will be there as your second echelon, and I'll attach additional SIGINT elements to your command."

"Yes, Commander. Should I keep the units on full EMCON?"

"Not at all, Admiral; I want your fleet to operate with unrestricted radio and radar use. Show our presence, show our capability; keep close enough to monitor their movements, close enough to strike if needed, but not so close as to be in danger yourself. Just watch and wait."

"That seems terribly risky, Fleet Admiral Tsur. Even if we sent every ship in our navy, it wouldn't be enough to intimidate them. If anything, it may make them suspicious of our intentions."

"Which is why we're taking the diplomatic route as well. I've already spoken to Special Advisor Shun Yin about this; he has contacted the Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, and they've arranged for us to send a small delegation to Naybra to take part in the upcoming treaty conference. Even if they cannot influence the outcome of the treaty, they can report back on the state and progress of the negotiations. Interestingly enough, your younger brother is one of the observers they chose."

"They're sending Ryou?" the Admiral asked.

"Yes. He's a promising young man; he lacks your skill for command, Kazuo, but he makes up for it with honesty and diligence. Even as a Fleet Intelligence Representative, he will serve our Emperor well. I'm certain of it."

En Route to the Capital of Naybra

"Remember, Ryou, what we're doing is perfectly legal," the head of the three-person delegation said. "If they start asking questions, tell them that because this is at its heart a military matter, the Imperial Soodean Navy has dispatched a representative to observe the proceedings and report back on their strategic implications. But if they don't ask anything, don't say a word."

"Hai," Ryou replied, checking the buttons on his civil uniform. The grey fabric and gold piping marked him as a civil official, even though he was officially employed in a sub-bureau of the Navy.

"Look, Mr. Matsushita, I can tell you're worried. But this won't be a dangerous mission. All you have to do is sit calmly and quietly while Alena and I do the talking. If anything interesting comes up, adjust the top button there; that will start the recording device. Again, perfectly legal if they ask, as our superiors will want clear records of what happens here; but if they don't ask about it -"

"-don't say a word," Ryou finished. "I know that, but this entire business gives me a bad feeling. Even if it's legal, the way we're handling it feels..."

"What we're doing may feel suspect, but it is necessary if we are to gather information for the protection of our People and our Nation. The Emperor himself is said to have a hand in this. Just do as I say, and it will soon be over. Let's just hope that Heaven, not Hadt, is directing our fate today."

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

[OOC note: This was released yesterday before a substantial map revision, which necessitated a complete revision of the article].

---

Excerpt from the New Alexandrian Courante online version; 18th Augustia, 2014, Assorted Ausitorian Standard Time
Subsidiary of the ABC

---

Reserves mobilized upon expectation of imminent hostilities in Zathalon

Please click here to read the full article.

With Parliament widely expected to approve hostilities against the Empress Lara within Zathalon within a couple of hours, perhaps even before the Senate does, an eerie calm has fallen upon the nation as it prepares for its first major unilateral military strikes for decades.

The Chancellor of the Excheqer, Lord George Tilt, used his speech to Parliament to reassure investors, saying that war was unlikely to directly touch the Imperial Commonwealth realms, and that Zathalon was 'the only place where human rights and international stability are being seriously threatened'. He also pointed out that the price of domestic shipping insurance has continued to fall on the news that 2 carriers returning from the Capitalist Associate fleet are to be repositioned as a new 'Amrajan Fleet', which will take responsibility for the confined waters between Heilanor, the Amraja, and Naybra.

However, this was followed by the Defence Secretary Lord Argus confirming a full mobilization of all reserves 'as a precuationary measure' and that Ausitoria was granting all nations 12 hours, effective immediately, to remove unannounced sub-surface assets from Ausitorian waters, which could no longer be considered to be enjoying 'innocent passage'.

In the wide-ranging joint Parliamentary debate, the Prime Minister, Sir Henry Taylor, further confirmed that the cabinet is of the opinion that "the war in Mizrad-Maverica is a historic anomaly that holds little immediate strategic interest". Although refusing to rule out Ausitorian intervention should the peace conference fail, the Prime Minister drew attention to the number of Ausitorian allies now on the scene, from Maverican allies to Mizradian allies, and suggested that "Ausitoria can therefore continue to rebalance its forces to counter newer threats". However, he refused to comment on whether 'effective victory' could really be claimed before the peace treaty had actually been signed, stating that the Ausitorian government was like a central bank for nations: the moderator of last resort, always ready to shuffle forces to maintain international order.

The debate continues.

Please click here to read the full article.

[Fallenrun]

Dear Admiral Schmitz,

You are to turn ten of your carrier groups around and send them home. This includes the super carrier Sword and the four Athena class carriers and their support ships. Your marines will also need to head back. They will be replaced by regular legions later. Once these preparations are complete, please come back yourself.

P.S Don't ask why until I meet you in person.

Consul Arkus Wolffe

[Mizrad]

OOC: Fallenrun don't feel the need to extend your post, everybody already knows what you're trying to do and I don't think it's going to hurt the RP if you just one line it to show your ships are leaving. Taking the time to have them arrive in the other RP though should probably be a long post.

Isaac Mountains, Inside Maverica
10:45 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
24th Army Special Operations Group Platoon, 9th Mountain Division
OPERATION HOMEFRONT

"INCOMING!"

Screams Captain Michael McWorth as a hail of bullets pelts the ground around him. Quickly diving behind a rock, he yells over the radio for help as the platoon scrambles for cover. Regressing to what they were trained to do the left flank of the platoon is pushed forward as a group of riflemen and a machine gunner rush up it to force the enemy to rethink their strategy. Little did they know it was a group of children with a small army following in behind them.

"Sears! Get on your gun and start taking these fuckers out!"

Yelled McWorth through the radio. Hidden in the snow covered brush with his ghillie suit on beside his spotter Justin looks down his sights to adjust them for firing on the group pinning down his comrades. Quickly tracking down the shooters by watching for the muzzle flashes, Staff Sergeant Strong begins spotting for Sears. Near invisible due to their camouflage Strong looks down his monocular and quietly calls out targets.

"I count two by the ridgeline suppressing the captain, armed with military grade rifles. Roughly five or so hundred yards. Judging by the way they look they won't be able to see or shoot back at us. Watch the brush, bullets don't like trees. Take the one on the right first. Wind is going west, fire when ready."

Flicking off the safety, Justin breathes in and watches his target. Setting the cross hairs just a tad bit up and to the left of the boy's head to compensate for the wind and distance he squeezes the trigger. Upon the trigger being pulled back a fifty caliber bullet bursts out of the barrel and screams through the air. Showing no remorse for the fact he may have just killed a young teenager Sears pulls his eye off the sight and rails back the bolt of the sniper. Slamming back forward to chamber a new round he sets his eye against the scope once more as his spotter begins speaking.

"Unknown effect on target, we'll check for a body later. Adjust to fire on the target to his left. Same distance same windage, don't miss. Fire when ready."

Settling his sights once again over the boy's head Justin presses the trigger and shoots towards his target. Once again not knowing the bullet's effect he begins pulling back the bolt when over the radio McWorth makes another call.

"Nice work Sears and Strong, keep those fighters suppressed so we can move up!"

Obeying their orders, the sniper team continues to pound the teenager's position with a rain of pin point accurate fire from Justin's .50 Caliber high powered sniper rifle. Meanwhile on the ground the team that had pushed up on the flank was continuing to make progress. One of the NCO's in the platoon, Sgt. Joshua Borne was leading the charge with his M240. Setting up behind a massive fallen tree he kicks out his bipod and settles it on the thick tree. Pushing up his iron sights and pressing his cheek against the stock of the LMG to prepare to fire the rest of his squad, four riflemen, were already covering him by pelting the Maverican's position with semi-automatic fire from their rifles. Slamming back the charging handle chambering a high caliber bullet the chain of rounds is fed into the weapon.

"Lord forgive me for I have sinned."

He whispers before pulling the trigger. In fractions of a second a hail of bullets spews from the barrel of his gun. In quick, methodic bursts of fire he suppresses the position of the teenagers while a rifleman moves up to help him and the other's continue pushing. This tactic was a favorite of the Mizradian special forces. Moving fast and powerfully with lethal force to overwhelm their enemies rarely ever failed. The idea was to take away the enemy's momentum and use it against them. If things went wrong, the A-SOG operators were also skilled in the fighting retreat. It was the same concept yet reversed, leap frog away from the hostile forces while firing back at them in between moving from cover to cover.

Continuing to fire at his enemy's position, Josh slowly feeds his weapon by gentley moving the ammo belt as he fires. Over head, the sound of the 31st Airborne's C-17's could easily be heard. The sergeant knew that could only mean one thing; Everything was going exactly to plan. The plan, thought out by Arner and other officers was to rip away all anti-aircraft capabilities from the Mavericans with continued artillery and bomber strikes. Once that was accomplished the next step was to push the A-SOG and mountain troops forward until they reached resistance. Once said resistance was reached, the 31st Airborne would move in to confuse the enemy and help A-SOG in overrunning the Maverican defenses by shocking them into fear or even better, surrender. All around Sears' platoon the situation was the same. A-SOG platoons were encountering militia operators and becoming slowed to a near stop. Hopefully the arrival of a few thousand paratroopers would change that though.

Above the Isaac Mountains...

"Hook up!"

Screamed Captain Gregory O'Connor from the open fuselage of a Mizradian C-17. Just under a hundred paratroopers were stuffed inside the plane and they'd be tasked with storming the Maverican defenses from right above their heads with only small arms, a few vehicles and whatever air support could be mustered. A dangerous yet extremely important job. If the 31st failed now, Justin and every other Mizradian on the ground would be forced to fend for themselves.

"I said hook up!"

The captain yelled again. Listening to the captain, the airborne soldiers slap karabiners around the static line they'd be jumping off. One of the men, a scared and inexperienced corporal had just seen his first conventional battle only a few hours before at Fort Thomas. Corporal Hesh Wheatley was a quick thinking and intelligent man who could also shoot a moving target at five hundred yards with ease. He had grown up in northern Mizrad where the Winters lasted until July and the temperature only went up a small amount to the mid-50's before it dropped back into the negatives once again. Everything was deadly, from the weather to the wildlife, one must fight to survive there. Yet that's exactly what Hesh did and that's exactly why he was perfect for the mission he was about to embark on.

"Check your comrades!"

Yelled the voice, ordering the men to check the equipment of the men in front of them and sound off.

"One OK!'

"Two OK!"

And so on yelled the voices. Then suddenly the world seemed to slow down. Flak shells begin to explode all around the cloud of cargo aircraft, even nailing some dead on causing them to burst into flames. Hesh could see this easily from the rear open ramp of his aircraft. Then things seemed to slow even more as his captain yelled once again.

"Green light! GO! GO! GO!"

Sprinting out the back of the plane, each man falls out one by one on the static line and hopes they won't die on the way down. Descending quickly through the air, Wheatley looks around at his surroundings. Up above him the C-17's and their F-18 escorts were struggling to not get torn out of the sky much like the paratroopers around him. Holding on for dear life as he falls from the sky Hesh's gut begins to get at him until finally he looks up.

"Oh God please no!"

He yells, noticing the line failed to open his chute. Praying that it was still there, his instincts kick in and he pulls hard on the manual rip cord. In seconds he is pulled up into the sky on a slow, casual float. In a sigh of relief Wheatley calms himself with the fact his parachute had in fact opened. The sweat in his palms began to dry up and his heart was no longer racing. Yet the hard part had yet to even start. Looking down at the ground below him, explosions and gun fire were already raking the forest. Feeling around for the hard case the contained his rifle, Wheatley felt relieved once again. It was still there just like the rest of his equipment. Although there was another issue.

How the fuck was he going to land safely?

Grabbing on to the handles that steered the chute, he pulls hard on them to ensure he'd land where he wouldn't be shot before even touching the ground. Looking off into the distance Hesh begins to realize something; he was caught in the valley between multiple massive mountains and landing in between them only meant one thing. He and whoever was still alive on the ground would be forced to fight a battle up the face of a mountain and into enemy territory. Wheatley was however smart enough to keep track of some other things. While drifting through the air he starts memorizing the land beneath him. Way off by the mountains on Maverica's side were the infamous highland villages. Entire towns full of die hard patriots willing to do anything for their country. In a way he was almost flattered, being picked to fight in the most dangerous region of all of Maverica could only mean that he was one of the best. Grinning at the thought he begins to look off into the sky when something changes. Feeling pressure on his foot Hesh looks down to realize he was now clipping the canopy of a tree. Steering outwards more he starts dodging the taller ones only to get caught on an average sized tree.

"Well, fantastic"

He mutters. Reaching for his knife Hesh removes it from the sheath and begins chopping away at the cords holding his parachute on. Quickly slicing them off Wheatley swings himself into the trunk of a tree. Standing on a large branch, he sheds the bag that carried his chute and pulls up his equipment. Taking the hardcase and back pack and strapping them to his back Hesh then slides down the tree and reaches the ground. Looking around him as the Sun begins to come up the sound of other parachutists landing around him and slapping into the trees becomes easy to hear. Placing the case containing his gun down, opening it and pulling out his AR Scorpion Hesh loads a magazine and chambers a 6.8mm round. Tightly grasping the rifle he starts trying to recognize his surroundings. The heavy gunfire coming from just south of his position meant he had landed only a few hundred meters from the front line and getting to it to start fighting was crucial. Fortunately the corporal was only a rifleman and didn't need to look for a machine gunner to give ammo to or an ammo man to take rockets from. Taking a knee next to the thick tree he had just climbed down he takes a deep breath and starts scanning the forest for his squad mates. Noticing a few troops moving up in woodland camouflage with snow camo covers and some with parkas under their vests he gets up and takes a look through his scope at them. Without a doubt they were Mizradian and from the 31st.

"What's the house number!?"

He yelled, hoping to get their attention. If they replied back "Number 31!" then they were most likely Mizradian. Fortunately they did yell that back. Meeting up with the squad of four their leader is the first to speak.

"Staff Sergeant John Jameson, 22nd Platoon. What's your name son?"

Hesh grins and pulls back his balaclava.

"Jameson it's me sir, Wheatley."

The two laugh and shake hands. The three other men also happened to be from Wheatley's platoon and the reaction was the same. Then the staff sergeant speaks again.

"Sorry to break up the reunion but we've got a war to fight. Judging from the stuff I saw on the way down we shouldn't be too far from the fight. Just a few more miles and we'll be in the heart of the Highlands. Lock and load gentlemen, we just jumped feet first into hell. Now follow me."

The five man squad begins rushing forward through the light snow and brush towards the front line. The signs of heated combat were clearly showing on the horizon. Multiple Mizradian planes had been shot down and were either spiralling out of the sky or had smashed into the ground already. Thick, black smoke could be spotted rising from the forest and the sounds of gun fire and explosives began to get louder and louder as Hesh and his squad push forward. Over head a pair of F-18's bear down on an open section of forest with armed with high explosive multiple hundred pound bombs. Releasing them over flat ground in the valley to clear out sections of forest for vehicles to be dropped in the two fighters drop their payloads and pull up and away from the fighting. Storming in behind the two fighters is yet another wave of ground attack craft. Descending to an almost dangerously low altitude a squadron of A-10's level out and begin pounding the ground with their missiles, rockets and guns. Hesh didn't know if they hit anything but the explosions caused by their fire showed that even the dirt and snow on the ground where they struck would've been atomized.

"Yeah! Burn motherfuckers!"

Yelled somebody from in front of Hesh. Jameson quickly raises his rifle and yells to the massive group of soldiers gathered by a group of boulders and fallen trees firing on the Mavericans.

"31st moving at your rear, hold your fire!"

Somebody yells back through the gun fire.

"What number is the house?"

Jameson quickly says the counter to the challenge.

"Number 31! Hold your fire!"

The five man team comes up behind a large rock roughly four feet tall as they duck for cover. An A-SOG operator in an OD green light coat with the sleeves rolled up turns to the men. His thick grey beard was doused with snow, dirt, ash and blood. His MARPAT woodland winter pants and boots were soaked with the same substances. On his head was simply a black beanie hat.

"Captain Brandon Walters, 19th A-SOG unit. Where you from boy?"

The man asked in a booming voice between ducking in and out of cover while dumping a hail of bullets from his assault rifle into the defending Maverican troops.

"31st Airborne, 22nd platoon sir. What can we do to help?"

Answers John before the captain turns around and looks him dead in the eye.

"Start shooting!"

Quickly obeying the order the paratroopers lay out fire against their enemies. The same situation was being repeated all across the front line as the 31st Operators reached their destinations. Only a mile or so behind Hesh, the first airborne vehicles were touching down. LY219's, Luchs light tanks and humvees were all falling out the back of C-5's and floating down to the ground with their parachutes or had skidded off only a few feet off the ground and then slammed into it. Either way they were now advancing towards the line and hopefully the permafrost on the ground would hold out under the weight of the lighter combat vehicles. Considering heavy main battle tanks and other such tracked vehicles would easily sink through the ground due to how much they weighed only the light tanks could be used to help lead the Mizradian charge. With heavy dozer blades mounted on the front of their hulls whichever ones were still operational and in fighting condition were now either dodging past trees or clearing a path to get to the fighting. Things were about to get very interesting.

Meanwhile A Few Miles Outside Fort Williams...

"Sir! We've entered range of the enemy's guns!"

Yells Sgt. Will "Deuce" Milano from his position mounting the tank's .50 Caliber HMG to his commander, Master Sergeant Aidan Woods. The MSgt yells back.

"Got it Deuce, button down the hatches and get inside. We'll use the co-axial gun to take down any stragglers but I don't want anybody hanging outside this tank that should be inside it."

"Yes sir!"

The sergeant says as he quickly crawls back to the gunner's seat in the tank and locks the hatch above his head down. Pressing his eye against the aiming device he looks off into the distance. Mizradian Panther 1A1 tanks were charging across the temperate desert plains right along side him in a thunder run kicking up plenty of dust. They would be the first ground unit to strike Fort Williams and that meant they would undoubtedly be running into heavy fighting. With a shell already loaded into the smoothbore cannon Will patiently eyes the horizon for anything worth shooting at. There weren't villages or anything else they would have to worry about in sight so Milano could rest easy knowing he wouldn't accidentally blow up a school but he was still nervous. If the Mavericans could almost overrun him and the 4th Division while he was on the defensive then wouldn't they be able to utterly shatter the 4th when it was their turn to be defending their homeland? All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind but shutting them down soon became one of his main priorities. Suddenly a call comes over the radio.

"All callsigns this is Cowboy 1-1 prepare to fire on Fort Williams in two mikes. We should be within range by then. Just stay calm gentlemen, we can do this."

It was Major DelPrado who was the commander of the 4th Armored Division. The man had been right along side the tankers in his division in every battle he fought in and this was no exception. His voice always remained intimidating yet calm and smooth. It began to bring Will down from his cloud of fear when he is scared back into it. A Mizradian F-25 had smashed into the ground in front of his tank and out of the burning, twisted metal fell a charred corpse that was once the pilot. Alfonso just stared on in awe until something happened. That something was more and more planes falling out of the sky. Both Mizrad and Maverican. Each time, Milano continued to get pushed closer and closer to his breaking point until finally he snaps. Looking through the IR sights of the 120mm cannon, DelPrado comes over the radio again.

"All callsigns this is Cowboy 1-1 again, fire for effect on Fort Williams. Burn that place to the ground."

He said remaining in a composed tone. This however was Milano's chance and after swiping the sweat from his brow he slams the trigger causing a 120mm HE shell to explode out of the barrel and scream forwards towards the defenses around Fort Williams. All around him the other tanks were doing the same thing. The Mavericans were putting up quite the fight but hopefully the blitzkrieg on the ground would overwhelm them. Trailing roughly a mile behind the tanks, tens of thousands of soldiers were also rushing forward on foot or on vehicles towards the fort to rid it off life. Eighty thousand Mizradian troops were now bearing down upon it in an all or nothing assault that could easily change the course of the war.

Above Fort Williams...

The sky was a haze of explosions, projectiles and planes all roaring through the sky looking to keep themselves in the air and rip others out of it. The situation was quickly becoming bleak for almost the entire force of Mizrad ground attack aircraft. The F-18's and F-35's were doing their best to hold off what was left of the Maverican Air Force but it didn't take a genius to realize they were losing. Falling out of the sky in hefty numbers over fifty planes are lost within the opening shots of the biblical air battle. Yet fortunately the Mavericans had walked right into the trap set by the Mizradians. Breaking radio silence for the first time in hours would be the voice of General Arner.

"All Reaper squadrons the ace is in the hole. Weapons free you are clear to fire. Good luck."

With that, hell would be unleashed. Little did anybody know that roughly seventy five F-25's were waiting in the clouds far above the flight ceiling of any other plane in the battle. After receiving confirmation from their general the planes barrel down from the sky with their weapons ready. Armed with long range AIM-120 high explosive air-to-air missiles designed for taking out targets from afar the planes switch their priorities from being stealthy to using their insanely powerful engines and armaments. Quickly locking on to the Mavericans who had seemed to be nearly invincible, the fighter planes let loose with a hail of hundreds of missiles in their opening volley.

Emerging from the clouds by the squadron the seventy five fifth generation fighters break out into three equal groups and respond to the desperate distress calls of their comrades. The once helpless Mizradian A-10's were now being escorted out by the F-18's as the F-35's and F-25's head back into the fray for more. What they were about to do would easily go down in history for the Mizradian Air Force had only seen a dog fight reach such a high scale only a few times before. Surely that wasn't the only reason, for hundreds of planes were now throwing themselves at one another in an all or nothing fight reaching biblical proportions. The battle for Fort Williams had now truly begun.

Southwestern Coast of Mizrad
10:00 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
7th Mizradian Strike Response Fleet
OPERATION HOME FRONT

The radar on the Mizradian flag ship was clinging to life as it searched the sky for more attacks. The Mavericans had been pounding away at them for hours now and despite the modern and highly effective countermeasures of the Mizradian ships the incoming fire was still becoming too much to handle. Multiple cruisers, destroyers and frigates had been sunk but there was one trick the Navy had yet to use. Unfortunately that would have to wait due to the radar having picked up something horrifying. A huge volley of fire was now soaring towards the MNS Neptune's Spear and closing in fast. Instantly reacting to the threat, the aircraft carrier's many CIWS and anti-projectile guns were blazing the sky with their own fire. Effectively knocking out a large portion of the incoming fire they still can't seem to stop the rest of it from slamming down into the hull of the ship. A chunk had been taken out of the ship's forward hull and the rear flight deck while the other fire had pocked it full of smaller holes or fires. The Spear was heavily damaged and could barely function, but it was time to pull the last card.

"All submarines, fire everything you have at the Maverican fleet's heavy targets. Anti-aircraft boats, destroyers and flag ships I want them all gone. Clear a path for our planes and we might be able to win this fight."

The admiral spoke in a grim tone. He too had been wounded as the bridge of the ship had been rocked around with gun fire. Yet the inferno the subs were about to let loose was going to be far worse and utterly mind boggling.

"Affirmative sir, Illumnati class subs starting the rain ETA thirty seconds."

Quickly getting confirmation from both the captain and head weapons officer of each submarine, the hundreds of missiles they all carry when combined are locked on to a ship from the Maverican fleet. The flag ship is the first to be targeted, then the destroyers and then any ships with effective AA capabilities. Going through the pre-launch measures in a haste the all clear is given as the massive volley becomes ready to fire. Only the nuclear missiles on each ship were spared from launching and if needed, they would be fired too. Ascending in the depths to a point in the water where the missiles can be fired each sub levels out as their captains turn the keys to fire.

"May God help us."

Most of them mutter in the dead silent interior of their ships. Placing in the key and turning it the missiles are fired. Emerging from their pods one by one they rocket into the air and turn to descend in a downwards spiral towards the enemy ships by the hundreds. Bursting from the air and roaring visibly towards their targets whatever ones had yet to be shot down were now on a direct collision course with whatever stood in front of them.

Government Tower, New Boston, Mizrad
12:00 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
Mizradian Government Union [MGU] Meeting
OPERATION HOME FRONT

"Mr. President, the Union is waiting."

Spoke the MSDG guard at the door to the meeting room. Saluting the masked man, President Ryan West moves forwards through the door and takes his seat in the room. All around were the faces that meant something to the conflict. The Secretary of Defense and commander of Mizradian forces General Frank Douglas, the Treasurer and other economic advisers, Mark Gabriel as the secretary of foreign affairs and the president himself. Sitting at the large mahogany table the men and women stop conversing as West speaks up.

"Ladies and gentlemen you've been called here today due to a message intercepted by Maverica and one received from our embassy in Destinado Tierra. It's a cause and effect relationship here and the evidence is right in front of us. The Maverican president requested that the people of Destiando revolt and said they would assist them and the message from our embassy shows that's exactly what they did. Right now the slums are being hit the hardest with terrorist attacks dotting the richer areas of the nation. The rebellion can be put under control but if Maverica does intervene then what little forces we have there won't be able to stop the onslaught of the rebellion. General Douglas if you could please explain the military situation, Mr. Treasurer if you could prepare to speak of the economic side next that would be appreciated."

Frank wastes no time in getting up and talking about what was going on.

"As you all know, we are stuck in an all out war against Maverica as Firmador collapses. Fighting it may prove easier than doing so against Firmador too but it will still undoubtedly be one of the hardest fights we've ever gotten into. Right now Maverican forces are shelling Fort Thomas once again as we speak. The damage reports have yet to come in but we also have some better news. The assaults on the Isaac Mountains and Fort Williams have both begun and the fight in the air is heating up over Fort Williams. The battle in the mountains however is an all out infantry slug fest with little vehicle support due to the terrain. Fighting on the ocean is simply claiming more and more lives from both sides and nobody seems to be winning. So keep all of this in mind as I tell you the plan to cool things down in Destinado Tierra."

He tosses a map of Brandy Island and New Maverica on the table.

"Both places are crucial to Maverica however only one stands in the way of any support we can give to Destinado Tierra."

Douglas flips over the picture of New Maverica.

"Brandy Island. The place is home to Maverica's navy and a large force of the Maverican military. While we can make an attempt to go around it doing so will be near impossible as anything we send would be intercepted by their ships. That's why we must strike somewhere they'll never expect us to. Everybody thinks the island is damn near impossible to take, a massive, impenetrable fortress. Yet once we gain a foothold taking it may just become possible. With help from Volvek, Treneria and anybody else willing to lend a hand we could send a leviathan invasion force to overwhelm one small sector of the island. History has shown Maverican forces will have to completely revamp their entire plan to meeting the needs of stopping the breakthrough and in that time we can invade other sections of the island. Once we get a momentum going an all out blitzkrieg through the island will be the next objective as getting bogged down is not what we'll be there to do. Once we gain control of at least half the island the force tasked with aiding the Destinadians in their fight will be deployed. More details on the plan will be sorted out once approval is given but that may take days. Until then we have this to go own. That is all. Mr Gordon, the floor is yours."

Joseph Gordon, one of the nation's head economic advisers and treasurers stands up.

"Thank you general. Anyways ladies and gentlemen what we're facing here is an all or nothing crisis. While we will have areas full of resources to reap here at home, the loss of Destinado Tierra will cripple us. Production will undoubtedly slow and the economy will come crashing down. There's simply no other way to put it. War may be great at jump starting an economy but if we can't get the stuff needed to provide people with jobs or the war that demands those people work then we'll survive maybe a year or two in a downward spiral before a depression the likes of which we haven't seen since our last civil war takes place. Mr. President."

Gordon sits down as West gets up.

"Well, now you've heard it. I don't think we really have another option at this point. I'll give the order to commence the operation immediately. Now concerning the peace talks, Mr. Gabriel you will be going with another political adviser and a handful of guards to ensure the DMZ doesn't take up a large amount of our land and that peace does ensue. We'll be in contact. Now this brings our meeting to a close, good luck everyone."

West turns to his assistant.

"Would you care to call the Volveken hotline for me and tell them to have their leader call me? I do believe a talk is in order."

Walter Walker Memorial International Airport, New Boston, Mizrad
12:30 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
Mizradian Delegation to Naybran Peace Conference
Mizrad-Maverican War Peace Conference

Pulling up beside a C-17 cargo aircraft with a white top, blue bottom and a black line seperating the two colors, a small convoy of three black Chevy Suburbans come to a stop. For a moment they wait as the rear ramp of the aircraft lowers down revealing a waiting squad of soldiers. They quickly move to the sides of the fuselage as the three SUV's move up into the cargo bay and park. The inhabitants, hidden by the dark tinted windows and bulletproof plating exit their vehicles and meet with the other passengers on the plane. Meanwhile the back ramp closes up again as the engines begin to roar. Over head two jets scream by and then circle back acting as the escort for the C-17. On the intercom, the sound of the pilot's voice comes on.

"Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking, thank you for choosing giant funny looking military aircraft airlines. Now would you all please kindly take your seats while we take off?"

With a few grins at the man's pun the passengers sit down and continue talking quietly to eachother. The numbers for the Mizradian delegation now stood at ten men and women all specializing in a certain area to make sure Mizrad wouldn't be getting screwed over by the treaty. The other twenty men and women were Mizradian soldiers all highly experienced and well trained, each one would be keeping a watchful eye on everything going down at the meeting. The vehicles at their disposal were the three Suburbans and taking up the rear was a caiman MRAP. The next step now was to reach Naybra, and they were now on their way to doing so.

[Maverica]

At the border Maverican lines

At the border Maverican soldiers were still taking cover from Mizrad artillery. The hospital was in full gear taking care of wounded men suffering from mostly head wounds. But others were not lucky. The dead kept mounting. Bodies laying all over the Maverican lines. Most just walking to get a simple drink of water. Already more bunkers were taken out encluding a hospital tent killing over 200 wounded men and 50 nurses. Just from one place! Every man was thinking "When will it end? Is this it? Are we going to sit here forever just pounding at each other till nothing is left?" The men thought as Maverican artillery and Mizrad artillery pounded at each other.

Behind the ridge Maverican artillery kept firing. The massive 200mm and 300mm artillery was slow firing but combined with rocket artillery and regular artillery delivered a destructive punch at Mizrad lines. Trucks full of ammunition kept coming barely keeping up with the artillery.

Back in the front lines General Henry was sitting at the table in his bunker talking to General Johnson.
"This is getting very expensive of firing artillery and anti aircraft guns. We used more ammunition in this deadlock war than The first Mizrad Maverican war and all of our wars in Sunalaya combined!" Said Henry.
"Well their is not much else to do other than keep on shooting artillery and sending more planes in the air." Replied Johnson.
"I know. And we can not let our boys head over the top. They would be cut down before they got within 1,000 yards by artillery and rifle fire." Said Henry.

Just then a runner ran into the bunker.
"General!" Said the man as he saluted.
"Yes my good sir?" Said Henry.
"A message from the President for General Johnson." Replied the man
"Well thank you kindly sir. Here have a cigar." Said Johnson
"Thank you sir. Here is the letter." Said the man as he took the cigar and beer. He then ran out to his station again.
Johnson opened the letter and read it at his desk.

Dear General Johnson
I have a very important assignment for you. You are to be leading a army in a war against Destinado Tierran Goverment. We have sparked a civil war there and we need to help the rebels. And seeing that General Henry has his hands full I call to one of my trusted Generals for this task. You are to go to Fort Tim for this mission to meet you army.
Sincerely
President Justin

General Johnson turned to Henry.
"Well I guess I get to lead my first army by myself." Said Johnson grinning.
"Good for you. You will do great! Bring much glory for the Fatherland!" Replied Henry
"I will sir!" Said Johnson.
"I will miss you Johnson. You make a good right hand man. But it is your time to shine. I will miss you greatly!" Said Henry while he shook Johnson's hand.
"Thank you. I best be on my way Henry. Bye" Said Johnson as he left the room.

Johnson walked outside and ran to a small bunker while artillery rounds pounded around him. Johnson made it to the bunker to meet his ride. He opened the door of the Humvee and crawled inside on the front passenger side of the Humvee. The driver a young soldier looked at Johnson.
"All your stuff is in the back seat sir" Said the Driver.
"Good. Drive to Fort Tim. I have a army to meet." said Johnson as the Humvee took off down the rugged road. Following the Humvee was 4 other Humvee with armed soldiers inside to guard General Johnson.

Back on the front lines Major Brando was sitting in his trench listening to all the anti aircraft fire and artillery being fired as Sargent Dickson walked to him.
"So now what Major?" Asked Dickson
"Now? Now we sit in this hell waiting it out. There is nothing we can do but fire right back at them. Only if we destroyed the Mizrad's aircraft capabilities we might of been drinking in a bar in Savanna by now!!!" Said Brando angrily.
"Whats wrong Major?" Asked Dickson
"Whats wrong? I will tell you whats wrong! From when me and my comrades defended Savanna to when we made our stand at Fort Tim! We fought valiantly and bravely! But what did we
get!? Nothing but witnessing my comrades being murdered by Mizrad! Coming home to a heart broken and widowed nation! Coming home to a nation with no PRIDE and HONOR! The
reason why I am fighting is to get revenge!" Replied Brando as he crawled into his bunker.

Village in Issac mountians
James sat silently on his horse with his AK-47. His dad Captain Michele and Colonel Tristan was getting the relief army together to help the kids at Farrison Pass. The army was made up
of 7,000 militia, 5,000 infantrymen, and 3,000 Highlanders. Word of the Mizrads spread fast in the mountains and now a army is ready to fight them with hundreds of other militia groups and a few soldiers and highlanders rushing towards Farrison Pass. Michele and Tristan rode up front next to James.
"Everyone forward!" Yelled Tristan as he rode forward. All the expressions on all the men's face was full of anger and revenge. Everyone wanted to kill some Mizrads. They ride was very quick but was silent. Just a two miles from the battle everyone but 500 militia dismounted and started to make a quick run to the pass. Gun fire could already be heard. Everyone was ready. the 500 mounted militia rode ahead in attention to shock the Mizrads.



Farrison Pass, Issac Mountians Maverica

Once the Mizrads started firing the boys were firing back confident that they could hold with out no one getting wounded or killed. But just then as John was firing his M16 in the trees Bang! a bullet passed right through his head. John fell back on the ground and rolled off the rock he was sitting on in cover and landed right in the line of sight of the Mizrad soldiers and the other boys. Alex looked down and seen his friend laying sprawled out on the ground......dead......... Alex looked in shock at his dead friend. Sadness turned into fear then turned into anger. Anger.... Anger for the Mizrads.
"For Johnny!!!!!" Yelled Alex as his raised his M4 and fired at advancing Mizrads with no cover.
The others did the same shooting any moving thing in the open. Not known by Alex or any of his living friends another of his friends was laying dead in a crack in the rocks. Shot by Mizrad sniper fire. The rest of the kids maneuvered in cover changing positions on the ridge. But not without taking hits. As they tried to get in better cover 4 more kids were killed or wounded by the Mizrad soldiers. One of the kids named Larry was laying down on his belly 700 meters away from the Mizrads. He was using his M1 Grand hunting version to pick off any Mizrads. Just then he spotted something in his scope. Hiding behind a rock a Mizrad machine gunner. Larry silently smiled as he put his cross hairs on the man.
"Three...two...one..." Said Larry as he pulled the trigger. BANG! The 30.06 bullet from his rifle left the barrel spinning towards the Mizrad machine gunner.

Just then out of the mist bagpipes were sounded and bugles played. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sx-y17F62lk As Maverican militia, soldiers and highlanders rushed over the ridge guarding the pass and let loose a massive volley of RPGs, rifles, pistols, gernades, and other weapons straight at the Mizrad soldiers. They then quickly took up cover and positions along the ridge guarding the pass and continued to shoot at the Mizrads. Now along the whole ridge surrounding the Mizrad's on the side and front was ablaze with gunfire being directed at the Mizrads. While rushing over the ridge they took minor casualties but the battle only begun.

James was running towards Alex and took cover with him.
"Is this enough help Alex?" Asked James as he chuckled
"Enough! We can march to New Boston with this army!" Laughed Alex as he fired his rifle.

As the battle was raging the 500 mounted militia were silently traveling through heavy brush going around the pass to trap the Mizrad soldiers in the pass to surrender or be sliced up. The terrain is very dense and extreme. But once the Mavericans get around the Mizrads it would be not as dense and more room to have battle.

The battle of Farrison Pass has just begun.....


Fort Williams

Out side of the fort in the large town Maverican soldiers were preparing for the worst. Citizens ran in the streets. Some running to the front line some to the river to be carried to the other side for safety. Artillery was being positioned along the town's walls and tanks scattered in the town taking up position. Maverican soldiers grapped their rifles and ran to the walls ready to defend their town. The commander of the forces in the Town was Major Patrick. Patrick was in the streets yelling out orders and getting things ready through all the traffic of civilians running to the river.

Back in the Fort. Colonel Martin the commander of the fort and town was getting ready for battle. His men was all ready in position and ready to fight to the death. Martin like most of his soldiers in his garrison was born in the Highlands and knew the old ways. Martin himself was related to a great warrior from the 1000s. And like many other of his troops were warriors. It was in their blood. And now it was kicking in. Martin ran out of his quarters to the front wall. As soon as he seen the approaching Mizrad army he laughed.
"Of course they come with tanks! They may seem strong but once you fight one on one with them they are not tough!" Yelled Martin as he laughed.

His men started to laugh with him and started shout insults at the Mizrad army. But just then Martin raised the flag of the Highlands as a symbol to fight. Just as he raised the flag a volley of artillery fire was launched at the Mizrads. The town and the fort was ablaze with gunfire. Machine guns, rifles, artillery, tanks, rocket launchers, rocket artillery and mortars were fired at the advancing Mizrads. As all hell broke lose on the Mizrads 10 Apache helicopters rose from the fort and flew towards the advancing Mizrads firing Hellfire missiles, Mini guns, and, auto cannons strait at the enemy. As all of this was happening anti aircraft crews continued to fire at any Mizrad aircraft that flies in range. As the town and fort took more hits several machine guns nests and artillery positions were knocked out killing several dozen soldiers in the process. In the town several tanks and some houses with soldiers in were hit and in the fort a artillery she'll hit the hospital room killing dozens of needed and wounded and sick soldiers.

Also meanwhile in the nearby ocean Maverican ships guarding a shipment of supplies to Fort Williams got a distress message from Fort Williams about the attack. The commander of the fleet was Commander Thomas. Thomas quickly ran up to the bridge and started barking orders.
"All battleships, destroyers, and ,cruisers head towards the coast line and start to bombard targets near Fort William. Frigates head towards the Issac River opening and also start firing on the targets. Everybody move quickly!" Yelled Thomas as he chugged down a bottle of rum.

As this was going down on the River Issac Maverican patrol boats and gunships were gathering near Fort Williams port. They all came from areas on the river that was alerted about the Mizrad attack. Maverican gunboats and patrol boats started to open fire on the Mizrad targets while letting fishing boats carry people back and forth across the river to safety.
The Battle of Fort Williams has begun......


In the Issac Mountians

In the mountains word of the Mizrad invasion was spread like wildfire. The Mizrads simply had crossed the red line by invading Maverica's sacred, beautiful, and heartland of Maverica. Everywhere Maverican militia went out of their fortified and guarded villages to ambush Mizrad soldiers, shoot Mizrad paratroopers out of the sky, capture and destroy Mizrad supplies from supply drops, destroy Mizrad vehicles from airdrops, and set booby traps along small foot paths. The militia also are doing many other ways to stop, or disrupt the Mizrad progress. Some militia and police helicopters also started to fly around the mountains to send out teams to destroy or capture Mizrad supplies, send troops to small skirmishes, and give airsupport by dropping homemade bombs and shooting a heavy machine gun out of the door. And taking away dead or wounded soldiers. In the villages women and girls make makeshift hospitals and graves for the dead and wounded fighters that died or got wounded while fighting. A party has been started and the Mizrads are not invited.



In the air above

Sgt. Franklin Carlin was in his F-29. All around him it was just explosions and death. But he and his men were winning! He thought as he blasted another Mizrad F-18 out of the sky. But suddenly....all hell broke lose. Out of nowhere Mizradian F-25s flew down shooting Maverican fighters down one by one. The radio was full of cursing, screaming and orders from Maverican pilots in the confusion. Frank looked around him watching his nightmare come to life. He then did what every other man in the sky would do in this situation. Fight. He quickly got a Mizrad F-18 in his sights and quickly launched a air to air missile at it blowing the F-18 to pieces. All around him Maverican fighter planes struggled to stay in the sky as Mizrad fighters picked the Mavericans out of the sky.

As Frank was doing this new, battle harden, well trained fighter pilots entered the fray. The force consisted of the 201st Southern Wing, 202nd Southern Wing all using mostly F-29s and some F-18s, and the 10th Seabird Squadron using F-22s. The F-29s and some F-22s took to the higher heights to shoot down and block off the Mizrad F-25s from climbing back up to saftly while most of the F-22s, F-18s and a some F-29s flew lower to shoot down the lower Mizradian aircraft. As the plan went into action the planes already in the fray continued to shoot down any enemy aircraft they could using auto cannons, air to air missiles, heat seeking air to air missiles and laser guided air to air missiles.

While the main battle was happening lower to the ground watching the Mizradian paratrooper planes and F-18s silently was a squadron of F-29s and F-22s. They silently stalked the Mizradian planes to wait for the right moment. Just then a air to air missile was fired strait for the paratrooper planes. As that happened the Maverican planes swarmed in quickly taking down the lower classed Mizrad F-18s and Paratrooper planes. The Maverican fighters took down anything that was the enemy in the sky. They went after paratroopers falling down, Mizradian paratrooper planes and F-18s. The Maverican fighter planes here have taken light damage so far only losing 5 F-29s and 10 F-18s.
Hell has met the sky!



Southwestern coast of Mizrad

On the Maverican flagship MSS Goldenburg the Maverican Admiral, Admiral Jones was laughing after his volley of artillery hit the Mizrads. Jones kept on laughing like he was drunk. Some soldiers looked at Jones and thought he was drunk. Just then the smile was wiped off his face as explosions, fire and loud booming noises happened. The nearby destroyer the Ram was engulfed in flames and was sinking. Other ships took hits also. But as things were thought to be over another volley of torpedoes and missiles were rushing towards the Maverican ships. The Mizrad missiles and torpedoes ripped apart the Maverican ships. Sinking several ships and damaging the rest.

Admiral Jones and his crew were all flung to the side of the ship as round hit the Goldenburg. Sirens were sounded and crewmen rushed around. The Goldenburg was sinking....... to the bottom of the ocean. Admiral Jones and his men grabbed emergency equipment and rushed to life boats. Some Crewmen grabbed wreckage and jumped overboard. Others climbed into lifeboats and started to sail to the nearest ship. Admiral Jones himself was in a lifeboat yelling orders over the cordless radio.
"How far is our support!?" asked Jones.
"Just leaving Brandy island." Said the radio operator
"What!? Order all remaining ships to fire all missiles, torpedoes, and naval artillery at the Mizrad ships! They must be tired and almost beaten! we just need to hold till our support comes!" Said Jones.
"Yes sir! We will aim at the Mizrad Flagship also! We lose our flagship! They lose theirs!" Yelled the operator as he carried out the orders.

As Jones and his men climbed aboard the remaining Maverican ships the Maverican ships were putting down a hail of missiles, artillery, and torpedoes on the Mizrad ships.

The Maverican ships may be just about destroyed but so is the the Mizrads........



Brandy island

At Brandy island the small fleet of Maverican ships started to leave. Commander Drake leading the fleet was positioned on the Flagship the MSS Smith. As a destroyer it may not be like the massive Maverican flagships but it can still put down good fire support. As the fleet raced to the Maverican fleet everyone hoped they are not too late.



Government Offices, Maverica city

Entering the government council chamber President Justin walked in. In the room was several government leaders and the Secretary of Defense and Foreign affairs Gabriel Lartz. President Justin sat down in the President Chair as a maid came in the room and gave him a glass of wine. He thanked the maid and looked at the government officials.
"Good day gentlemen. I have called us together to discuss the ongoing war. Gabriel take it away." Said Justin.

"As you all know the Mizrads have been bombarding our positions on the ridge overlooking the desert. But now we have troubling news. I have just gotten a report from Fort Williams saying that they have gotten contact with the Mizrads. Also militia groups in the Highlands are making the Mizrad's advance very difficult. But if they win the battle at Fort Williams the Maverican heartland could be in danger!" So our southern army is being sent up nort to help push back the Mizrads! But one other thing. We have received word from Destiando Terria that they have started to rebel. Our plan is working so far. Our next step is to send General Johnson over with a small army to help the rebels win the war. But also brings us to another problem! Peace talks will begin soon. Meaning that we will have to wrap up Destiando Terria very quickly before peace. Or else we might not get anything out of it and the rebels might keep going. So we need to do this quickly." Said Gabriel as he took a long drink of wine.

"Sound good so far Gabriel" Said Justin as he also took a swig of wine.

"One last thing to address. Our colony on Mist island has been neglected recently and I propose that we turn it into military bases and have more people go to live their. Now when we have Mist island up and running it will finally pay for all the money spent in that place. We got one last thing to address. In our colony of New Maverica I propose that we hold a recruitment there
to help our soldiers fight here in the Fatherland." Said Gabriel as he sat down

"That sounds good to me Gabe. Meeting adjourned!" Yelled Justin as he and other government leaders walked out of the room.



Maverica city airport

Walking down the hall to his plane Jacob Newart and several armed guards were climbing aboard A C17 headed to Naybra where peace talks were to be held. He looked at the guards and out the window knowing Maverica depends on him.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

The Peace Conference
Naybra

Even though neither delegation was actually late, it felt as though it had been an age to the Ausitorian civil servants in the Foreign Policy Watch Office who were wearisomely waiting peering out of the mobile teleconferencing robots for those damnable delegates to arrive. The whole war, as far as Ausitoria was considered, was an aberration that needed to be tied up neatly and quickly before any more lives or money was lost. Secret diplomacy had made the entire thing little more than a formality, and there had been dark mutterings that if either side failed to turn up for any reason then there was a forged copy all ready in Ausitoria to be brandished - 'I have in my hand a piece of paper...' and all that - and subsequently ready to be enforced by the Ausitorian fleet whether anybody liked it or not.

So when they finally entered the room, which the Ausitorian robots had frightened into silence, the two robots rose ominously, malevolently nodded their greetings, and, obeying strictly the Naybran Minister's demands that none of the observers spoke, glared ominously at the Mizradian and Maverican delegates and wordlessly passed each delegation a copy of the treaty and a pen, and then stared silently at the delegation, waiting for them to sign it.

[The Soodean Imperium]

Temporary Central Military Command Map Room
City of Jeidal, Esfahad Province, Northwestern Soodean Imperium

A collection of high-ranking officers stood in small groups around the map table, their whispers betraying a certain level of anxiety and tension. Many were tired and jetlagged after long trips by air or rail to reach the small and remote city of Jeidal, and others seemed unaccustomed to the dry, hot climate of Esfahad province. The new temporary command center, set up inside an old library to keep the important personnel inside away from their more obvious meeting places, was dusty and ill-ventilated, which only added to the problem. Even so, there were many among the crowd who felt relief that any nervous motions or stains of sweat could be written off to the arid climate. At the very least, the room was well-lit; the thin silk curtains on the tall windows of the left wall obscured the scene from outside, but allowed beams of pale light to flood through the air and illuminate the motes of dust swirling high up over the officers' caps.

Colonel Beryoz stood off in a far corner of the room, watching the tense motions of the crowd with concealed interest. His hair, once a bold shock of red-brown curls, was now peppered with grey, and his rough moustache and beard were now kept neatly trimmed. His navy blue dress uniform bore a blue-and-silver medal emblazoned with a snowflake emblem, marking him as a veteran of the Second Themiclesian War. He had risen in rank in the years since then, and now commanded the Second Regiment of the First Armored Legionary Division, but the memories of that swift and critical offensive still hung fresh in his mind. Whatever became of this conflict, he suspected it would not end as easily as the Second Themiclesian War, and he dreaded that it might become as long and bloody as the First.

After seeing the last two valuable personnel enter the room through a side door, the Colonel glimpsed motion at the far end of the room, and shifted his gaze there to see Supreme Commander Kyodan striding forward to the map table. Kyodan was the highest-ranking officer in the Soodean military save for Emperor Su Dou, whose portrait hung in a massive frame behind the High General. A swath of bright medals hung across his chest, and while most were only ceremonial, a careful eye could pick out the real pieces which identified his accomplished involvement in Themiclesia and Bratislav. He was not a front-line commander, the kind Beryoz himself had been half a decade back - was it really that long ago? - but when it concerned the need arose to organize and formulate a plan at the higher levels, he had the valuable Soodean talent for cautious but calculated steps. How that talent would show itself in the coming crisis had yet to be seen.

"Very well, Comrades, I see it is time for us to begin." The Supreme Commander picked up a long, thin pointer from the side of the table and rapped it on the map, indicating the hastily drawn and re-drawn troop position estimates along the Maverican-Mizradian border. "Our reports on the progress of the forces are, regrettably but understandably, quite limited, with most information coming from the civilian 'observers' we relocated to the border provinces in response to the rise in tensions. Even so, all reports we have received from them suggest a massive expenditure of munitions on both sides, primarily in the form of dispersed fire from stationary heavy artillery batteries."

"Stationary heavy artillery batteries?" somebody asked. "Are you suggesting they've moved into stationary attrition warfare?"

"This seems to be the case," Kyodan replied. "Again, reports are inconsistent, but almost all make references to a massive bombardment in the absence of a conventional offensive."

"Maybe," somebody else interrupted, "our reports would be more consistent if we had devoted more effort to building up our intelligence-gathering capabilities?"

Colonel Beryoz could see this speaker from his vantage point, and recognized him as Major-General Pomu. This came as no surprise; the steep reductions in espionage assets enacted by the Soodean regime after its rise to power following the 1987 Coup had attracted many retrospective critics, among whom Pomu was fairly outspoken.

"And risk triggering retaliation in kind if one of our agents were caught and detained? Our resources are scarce enough to meet our needs as it is," someone else cut back.

"Enough!" the Supreme Commander barked. "This is a debate for another place and time, gentlemen. Today we are gathered here to react to the present and plan to the future; you can wait until later if you wish to discuss the past. Now: Civilian intelligence has also reported on the presence of a large Mizradian troop movement toward Maverican positions in the vicinity of Fort Williams. Our civilian assets within the city gave similar reports of a coming large attack before we lost contact with them, suggesting that a large-scale engagement has indeed begun. Spottings of aircraft follow a highly irregular pattern of surges, suggesting the same. This is fully consistent with our wargaming projections: when brought into a military conflict, the strategic culture of Mizradian forces will indeed motivate them to pursue focused operations on well-defended priority targets at the strategic level. We have yet to see, however, whether this prediction applies as closely to Maverica, which is what I'm much more interested in finding out."

"What about the movements of naval assets off the Mizradian coast?" asked High Admiral Tsur, whose white uniform marked him as one of the few Navy observers in a room full of Ground Forces and Military Aviation personnel. "Do we know anything about their patterns of engagement?"

"This much is a great deal harder to say," Kyodan answered, a note of regret audible in his voice. "Band Three of our RORSAT system is only partially operational, which means that our surveillance of surface targets off the West Coast of Tethys is intermittent at best. Based on what we have put together, it seems the Mizradian and Maverican contacts in the main area of engagement are still positioned abnormally close together, on an order of magnitude where one can speculate that torpedoes and guns could be playing a role in engagements. Even so, until official accounts of the exchange are released by the combatant sides, we can't say anything certain about the weapons used. What concerns me more is the most recent satellite imaging of harbors at Brandy Island, which show a number of empty slots where warships were once docked. Unfortunately, while we can say for certain where those warships aren't, we still don't know where they are."

"Reason suggests that they may be heading north to take part in the engagement against the Mizradians," somebody noted aloud.

"Yet reality is often more complex than what reason alone suggests," Kyodan replied. "What concerns me more is the growing political instability in Destinado Tierra, which has been a subject of growing importance in international news. While we lack much in the way of confirmed information, we can say with some degree of certainty that Maverica has a motive to capitalize on this unrest."

"Exactly what I stated in my preliminary report," Fleet Admiral Tsur added. "And this, if it is true, presents us with a rare opportunity to apply force at a critical point. Heavily laden with troops and equipment, the Maverican fleet en route to Destinado Tierra will be directly within the Second Layer of our Defensive Naval Engagement Scheme. If we act quickly and decisively, we will be able to stop their offensive in its tracks, securing the trust of the Mizradian military leadership and presenting a resilient warning to our rivals in the region."

"Why can't we do the same with a land offensive?" Colonel Beryoz asked, speaking at last. "The Maverican military forces are already occupied fighting against Mizrad, and will be all the more hard-pressed on that front given the absence of Firmadorean assistance. This is the exact scenario we prepared for in War Plan Blue. If we mobilize all Army Groups along the border and make a swift mechanized offensive into Maverica's back door, we will be able to drive deep across the flat, level ground before they can react at the strategic level. If we simply sit here fortifying our defenses and gathering reinforcements for a war that will never happen, we will lose a rare opportunity to strike forcefully on two planes at once."

Supreme Commander Kyodan, however, shook his head. "I have considered this situation many times, Colonel, but until circumstances change I cannot commit our nation's military to War Plan Blue. An attack involving naval forces is dangerous enough given the volatile political climate, and despite the High Admiral's confidence I remain skeptical of its viability. If we go so far as to execute a full-scale land invasion of a neighboring state, we could easily find ourselves thrown directly into the gunsights of the Capitalist Association."

"And, worse still, we would have nothing to gain," Tsur added. "Whereas if we succeed in aiding Mizrad in the naval theatre, we may secure permission to operate a major naval base on Destinado Tierra following our participation in the war effort. Such a development would greatly extend our Naval Defensive Engagement Scheme, presenting a sturdy defensive bulwark against any invasion fleet seeking entrance to the Meditethrhean Ocean."

"Let's not forget the problem at the heart of it all," Major-General Pomu cut in. "We still don't know where their fleet is. Until we know that, we can't even say for sure that it's headed for Destinado Tierra at all!"

The High Admiral, now, shook his head, a confident smile spreading under his bristled moustache. "We don't need to know where they are now to tell where they will be, so long as we know their motives and their ways of pursuing them. A well-defended but important target has presented itself to them, and they have dispatched a fleet; it does not take a genius to predict the connections between the dots."

"Even so, we will need to determine their exact location if we are to plan an interception. And we will need to determine it without giving away our own intentions." Supreme Commander Kyodan's voice was calm but subtly stern.

"Of course; this goes without saying. We already have periodic flights of maritime patrol aircraft venturing into the southern areas of the Eosian Ocean, and once the Mavericans pass the Cape of Firmador-"

"If they pass the Cape of Firmador," Pomu interrupted.

"...they will be directly within the regular path of Radar Satellites operating on the orbit patterns designated Band One and Band Two. And when that happens - not if - we will be ready with a pleasant surprise." High Admiral Tsur smiled again as he finished his speech, his grin familiar but cold.

ISN Second Fleet
25 kilometers southwest of Firmador

The Attack Cruiser ISS Standart steadily made its way through the azure waves, setting off on a journey towards the unknown. The first ship in her class, she had been already been patched up through several minor refits, and for this occasion her crew had taken the time to thoroughly scrub the decks and roll on a fresh coat of paint. One of her sister ships, the Admiral Ivanov, sailed along a few hundred meters off to port, her elegant bridge gleaming in the midday sun. The ISS Chimuri followed further behind, and close to a dozen smaller destroyers and frigates sat on the outer edges of the formation, some of their radar towers just visible over the horizon. The Cruiser Battlegroup was an impressive enough sight by itself, basking in the clear weather like a parade formation at the Review of the Fleet. Yet for all its pride, it was only a supporting element; the Second Fleet's true strength lay a few hundred kilometers further back, where two Carrier Battlegroups tailed the vanguard formation.

Admiral Matsushita would normally have taken this opportunity to step out into the fresh air and watch the rare, relatively close-packed formation from the sunlit deck, but even under such good conditions he had a hard time calming the prodding sense of concern in the back of his mind. With a deep sigh, he walked over to the starboard side of the Standart's flag bridge, gazing off to the northeast. There, a few green peaks rose from the edge of the blue horizon, marking the presence of an alien land. The Soodean fleet's course remained just outside Firmadorean territorial waters, making it technically legal, though the Admiral doubted that the tattered remnants of the Firmadorean military could have done much even if they had sailed within a few kilometers of the shore.

To some degree, he still had trouble believing that the government there had collapsed so quickly; Firmador had been a rogue state almost from the very beginning, but its transition into literal anarchy had created a daunting list of challenges and opportunities. No doubt that power-hungry Tsur is already hatching a scheme to snatch away some critical patch of their coastline, Matsushita thought with an air of resignation. He trusted the High Admiral, and even considered him a friend in some ways, but there was something deeply unsettling about the air of calculated precision with which he went about his work. Tsur's relentless efforts to build up the Imperial Soodean Navy over the last ten years had already won him fame and renown across the country, and today's ISN was truly a world apart from its pathetic state back in 2004. Yet there were times when Matsushita wondered just how great the High Admiral's ambitions were - and how long it would be before he took his projects a step too far.

"Admiral, we have new orders from satellite relay," the communications officer reported. "CMC wants us to adjust course and head directly West South West at 257 degrees."

Matsushita turned around, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "West South West? I thought our orders were to pass north of Eirtac."

"Presumably CMC wants us to bypass Eirtac from the south, Sir. They've also requested that we break regular formation and enact moderate restrictions on radio and radar use."

The Admiral nodded, thinking over the situation. It made sense, after all; if Eirtac was dispatching carriers to aid Maverica, passing between the two countries would leave the Second Fleet in a vulnerable position. And passing to Eirtac's south would also allow the Second Fleet to monitor the gap between the Helian Sea and the Eosian Ocean, a prime access route for ships and supplies inbound from Libraria-Ausitoria. The order to restrict radio and radar use, however, triggered an instinctive chill down the back of his neck. While he could take some comfort in the fact that it was not an order for full EMCON silence, and thus not a precursor for an attack, the fact that CMC no longer wanted them to make their position clear suggested that the nature of the mission was beginning to change.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

The Naval Intelligence Office, The Cabinet Policy Intelligence and Security Committee, Alexandrino, one hour previously.

"So you're saying that we've lost the Soodean Fleet," said an irate Rear Admiral, Naval Intelligence, to the officials who cowered before him. It was unreasonable of course to expect to be able to keep an eye on every single warship, or even every single squadron, but the Rear Admiral Sir Charles had been brought up to the rather enjoyable success of the Ausitorian Intelligence services at almost invariably knowing a completely unreasonable amount about what was going on on any of the world's oceans. So he was rather put out to discover that just for once, when the situation in south-west Tethys was politically so very finely balanced, that his office no longer knew where this particular fleet was or where it was going too. All they knew was that it had moved, which meant that they had managed to loose a fleet.

The officials cast their eyes downward. They knew perfectly well that their Admiral, for all his fire and brimstone manner, was perfectly reasonable and as sharp as a razor, particularly when it came to matching obtuse statistical mathematics to the vagaries of human minds. But all the same, the officials were at least as disappointed by their inability as the Admiral was, and if possible, even more keenly annoyed at being all at sea about where at sea the Soodean fleet was, since that was what they had devoted their last half an hour to trying to work out.

But the Admiral was not in the mood for such introspection, and he tapped at his ornate desk impatiently and forcefully. "Well, find it!" he commanded.

"They have switched to full EMCOM silence, and the trouble is that when we look at a satellite image of a group of ships we do not know whether it is a convoy or not," replied the Lieutenant Commander, finding firm ground on which to stand. Everybody knew about that.

"I know!" replied the Admiral, and he did know: whether a pixel on an image was a warship or not was not at all easy to see, even with the expensive low-flying radar satellites that had been slipped into the last budget while the treasury was busy trying to reduce the size of the health budget. "And what does the book of naval intelligence say?" he demanded.

"Ring up all the people who might be sending merchant ships there to find who owns which ones so we can ask them whether they are being accompanied by Soodeans," said the Commander quickly, who didn't particularly like being patronized too, and was getting his revenge by speaking quickly, "and we are doing that, but sir, the trouble is that there are so many convoys being announced since Firmador's descent into piracy and there are so many cargo ships that might exist that even if we can't find members of a convoy we still couldn't be sure. And there aren't enough submarines in that particular sea and there aren't any carriers nearby, so..."

"Don't tell me," said the Admiral grumpily. "We'll have to send some carriers back to look for them."

The officials nodded, casting their eyes back to the floor, and the Admiral glared at the ornately decorated ceiling as he contemplated. It was the forgone conclusion, he knew; but it was still deucedly annoying. Ausitoria's oceanic commitments were straining her navy to the very limit, and pulling a couple of carriers out of normal operations to hunt for a fleet would require ship movements all around the world, and millions of dollars in fuel, and thousands of man-hours in committee work, and thereby upset the planned fleet support for the invasion of Heilanor...

This particular fleet was such a nuisance, he reflected. Even while they watched it leave Soodean waters, there had been millions of man-hours of hurried meetings, fine-tuning possible responses. Perhaps they were going off to hunt down merchant shipping, or maybe transferring to the Maverican coast, or perhaps going to intercept or join the Maverican fleet that was sailing through the Capitalist Association fleet which was being shadowed towards Eirtac, or just maybe, they were going far away to invading somebody else while Ausitoria's attention was so divided around the world. Or perhaps the fleet was heading to invade/reunify Firmador, and thereby resurrect Ausitoria's greatest enemy. If they didn't decided to land on in the rich urban west coast or the capital (which they could still do if they turned North).

That last one, he thought, was most unlikely: there was an Ausitorian fleet off Firmador's North-western coast, and besides, there had been a hurried message from the Tethys Intelligence Office: No major troop movements planned currently known about in Soode, so probably they're not planning a continental war, but we will keep our eyes open in lieu of the fleet movements you reported.

But it was no good knowing what wasn't going to happen. It was certainly an unusually large fleet to send somewhere for no particular purpose. If a continental war wasn't brewing then there was something being planned elsewhere, and that might be even worse; which made him distinctly jumpy. Everybody had been asking the same question for what felt like weeks: where is the fleet going?

And now they didn't even know where it was, and everybody would be asking him.

Damnation, he thought.

Time to get the carrier aircraft buzzing again.

Air Command, HMS Outrageous, 500 km north-west of Firmador

The Rear Admiral Charles Parker was in luck, and only had to suffer the Ausitorian Inquisition for half an hour before the Soodean fleet was spotted. Of course, they didn't know for certain that it was the Soodean fleet initially: they knew them to be warships, but for a start, the Ausitorians expected the Soodeans to be sailing within missile range of Firmador as little as possible, and certainly not hugging the coast at a distance of a mere 25 km; and for a second, the Ausitorians initially thought the fleet belonged to Firmador, which was fast descending into what looked like the beginnings of warlordism, and they did not want to buzz a Firmador fleet. But as the fleet continued away from Firmador, in the direction of Eirtac, it became obvious that it did not belong to Firmador, and nor was it sailing on any sensible shipping route.

And so, just to check that they had identified the right fleet, and that they could continue tracking it, down swooped an unnamed and seemingly unimportant Sea Tornado from a Combat Air patrol two hundred kilometers away, and it was Wing Commodore Andy Fitzmarks who broadcast to the suspected fleet.

"Ahoy there! This is Wing Commodore Andy Fitzmarks of the Ausitorian fleet to unidentified fleet. Whoever you are, you're quite welcome to sail the high seas, but we prefer it when we're sure of who and where you are. Please do identify yourselves if you like, or we'll have to identify you."

And that, they all hoped, was that; and they would follow the fleet to its destination, wherever that might be.

[Destinado Tierra]

Independencia, Destinado Tierra
12:30 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
Lieutenant Walter "Walt" Garcia
"Los Vaqueros"

"Viva el Destinado Tierra!"

Screamed a young boy at a massive passing convoy of humvees while waving a Destinadian flag. Rolling through the unpaved yet hard packed dirt of the outer coastal ring of the nation's capital known as "The Strip", Lieutenant Walter Garcia leads his line of eight vehicles through the hilly favelas of the city. Looking over the horizon to the leviathan skyscrapers poking into the atmosphere the lieutenant straps on his helmet. To their north lay an open ocean and an unforgiving jungle and to their south lay an equally mercyless urban landscape.

"Welcome to the heart of the jungle Walt."

Exclaimed the soldier sitting in the turret behind Walt, in a heavily Hispanic accented tone. Garcia was the son of a white mother from Mizrad and a Hispanic father from DT so being made fun of by his comrades was a common occurence. Yet today was different, this was the first time Walt would see anything more than an isolationist patrol hundreds of miles away on the other coast of the country. Now he was seeing what he had signed up for, Destinado's richest yet most ghetto city. The murder rate where they were driving had remained at least multiple per day where as only a few miles inland it was only a small hand full per year. Needless to say, crime was the nation's biggest issue and the gangs weren't afraid to pick on anybody.

"Just watch the road you spear chucker."

Joked Walt back to his friend, Corporal Jose Manuela who was scanning the buildings around the convoy for signs of a threat. Ambushing government convoys was a dumb idea but the pay off was too large for some gangs to ignore them. Unfortunately the latter was about to occur.

"RPG!!!!!!!"

Came the ominous scream of another humvee gunner. It was the acronym every Destinadian soldier hated the most yet seemed to hear the most often. Suddenly the convoy was now being lit up with gun fire. From their sides, the roof tops and from their front and rear. The smoke trail of an RPG whizzes by Walt's truck and drills a building right behind him causing the lean-to to collapse and block the rest of the convoy. Not letting this hold them back, the second HMMWV which was now trapped pulls back a bit and then slams the gas. Bursting through the rubble with their gun blazing the truck rushes to Garcia's aid. Stuck in a state of shock, Walter was finally tasting combat. Feeling a warm, wet liquid drip down his leg the man is suddenly knocked out of his stare by blood splattering all over his face. Somebody had blown his driver's face clean off. Not wasting time Walt immediately pushes the slumped body off the wheel and takes control. A soldier behind him pulls the fallen man into the back seat as Walt climbs in to drive. Up above, Jose was battering the enemy's position with his high powered machine gun. Not feeling the humvee moving he yells down to his friend.

"Walt! What the fuck are you doing!?"

Snapping out of his trance Garcia punches out the smashed up front windshield and slams his foot on the gas. Seeing the rest of the convoy close behind him the man continues to speed down the hill towards the section he knew -a wide open soccer field. Dodging through alleyways and through poorly maintained streets he comes to a drop off. A retaining wall thirty feet high blocked him from the field, however it did give him a clear view of everyone below and the road it ran along also had room for each remaining hummer. Pulling up into position as he's peppered with bullets Walt dives out of the passenger door and springs back up with his rifle. Railing back the charging handle on his '416 Garcia begins picking targets as the other men in the convoy either flee or take up position with him.

Spotting a sniper sprinting along the roof tops he looks down his sights and leads him as he continues running. Pressing his finger down on the trigger, the gun rocks and sends a 5.56mm bullet from the barrel to the man's throat as the force throws him off the roof killing him. Quickly transitioning to a man with a machine gun firing down at Jose, Garcia aims at his chest and squeezes the trigger in quick succession. Absorbing the recoil and keeping his aim steady as he fires, the man on the receiving end slumps over and falls down as well. Knowing his job was to be the commanding officer of the convoy, Walt begins a head count. Out of the forty men they began with only thirty three weren't dead or gone. Most of those thirty three had however suffered minor or severe injuries. After the head count he heads for his humvee's radio and begins making a desperate call.

"Protector 1, this is Whiskey team! We have seven men down and many more wounded! Requesting immediate casevac and air support on our position! Danger close!"

After a few moments of static a response comes back.

"Whiskey team this is Protector, we can't provide support at this time you're going to need to hold out on your own."

Punching the dashboard Walt screams back.

"What fuck do you mean you can't provide support!? Where the fuck is everybody else!?"

Little did Walt know what he was dealing with was happening all over the country. An uprising of sorts was occuring due to reports of the Ghish emperor taking over Zathalon and promising his support to nations like Destinado Tierra. Added to that was the issue of Maverica literally telling the people of Destinado Tierra they'd be saved from poverty in return for taking over. Of course, the public hadn't realized that didn't mean either side would support Destinado Tierra itself and the nation was now full of violent supporters of the Maverican president and Ghish emperor. Destinado was now dealing with what seemed to be the beginning of a full blown civil war.

"Whiskey team all other assets are tied up elsewhere. There's fighting all over the city we suggest you hunker down and prepare for the worst until we can get you support. Good luck, out."

Came the voice over the radio.

That was it. They were stranded in the poorest district of the entire country all alone. Yet Walt knew he couldn't panic for he had trained for this exact situation too many times to fail now. Running over to each individual humvee he makes sure to check up on each team. Making his way to the second gun truck he runs into his old friend, Sergeant Diego Cortez.

"Dee, how's everything over here!?"

Yells Walt over the gun fire.

"About as good as you can be while getting shot at sir, move on to the next victor we're all set here."

Cortez yelled back. He was an experienced and professional soldier unlike most of the Destinadian military. Having fought as a private contractor deep in the jungle against the best trained and equipped insurgent groups he had no problem taking on the weekend warriors charging at them now. The man's "Icon" was a Mizradian SRR-1 customized for urban combat. The rifle packed a punch and could easily tear an enemy clean in half -body armor or not. Before running to the next truck Walt would see the stone cold sergeant's brutal efficiency as his opponents dropped like flies in a cloud made of mustard gas.

Arriving at the next gun truck, a far more grim scene would be spotted. Propped up against the rear wheels of the humvee were two dead soldiers and firing back next to them were two heavily wounded rifleman. Up in the turret, the humvee's squad leader had taken the gun after watching his gunner take a round to the chest. Nothing would stop him from mowing down his enemy's so Garcia simply asks one of the rifleman.

"Hey ese, how you doing over here?"

The scared soldier would lock eyes with Walt and respond.

"Not very good LT. Could you possibly get us some bandaging? My shirt is doing much to stop the bleeding but we've got plenty of ammo."

Patting the man on the shoulder Walt replies with a nod before running down the rest of the line of trucks seeing varying results each time. Ushering ammo and medical supplies to the men who need it Walt then finds himself back up at the lead humvee laying down fire once more. Hearing a call for Whiskey team over the radio he jumps to it and responds.

"Goliath 4-1 this is Whiskey team, go ahead over."

Goliath was the call sign for mechanized units in the area, and if they were calling for help Walt knew some serious shit was going down all over the country. Praying for the response not to be for assistance his prayers are answered.

"Whiskey we've set up a safe zone about a mile south of your position. It's going to be hard to respond to your distress call because manuevering a tank through roads that we'll fall through isn't a good idea. We suggest you haul ass over here ASAP because your convoy won't last long all alone. Look for the hospital with the massive parking lot, it's like the only structurally sound building for a long distance in any direction you can't miss it. Good luck man, out."

Knowing that call may have just saved his life, Walt thanks the man and stands up behind cover to yell to the rest of the convoy.

"Whiskey team, mount up we're moving!"

Suddenly another twist occurs and an RPG slams into the fourth victor sending it over the retaining wall. Watching as it's tossed like a rag doll over the edge and then witnessing it burst into flames and explode Garcia can only run away. That truck had been equipped with a Mark 19, and every grenade that was going to be used in it had exploded due to the fall and rocket. Nobody in that humvee would ever come out of it alive and everybody knew it. Not bothering to sit around and waste time, the lucky man who had been thrown out of the door and didn't go over the edge is tossed into another truck and the now seven strong convoy rushes down the hill side. Seeing a large group of insurgents converge on the soccer field where the humvee was burning Walt decides to make sure his comrades wouldn't be used as propaganda.

"Whiskey this is Walt, we're taking a short cut. Follow me and fan out!"

Storming past the entrance to the field Walt breaks a hard right and smashes through the chain link fence. Pushing the truck well past the speed considered "Safe" the adrenaline filled officer yells up to Jose.

"Light em 'up jungle boy!"

With the seven humvees fanned out across the field they begin charging forward gunning down the helpless rebels and driving right over them. Smashing through another fence the convoy lines back up on another road. Taking a left and gunning it down the hill towards the hospital the gun fire begins to die down. In the brief silence Jose speaks up.

"Walt, what the fuck just happened?"

Not taking his eyes off the road, the lieutenant answers the question.

"The city's favelas are having an uprising trying to overthrow what little government we have. I don't know why, and I'm assuming it's happening in other places too but we must have just left their territory. We're heading to the hospital now, the tread jobs got a safe zone set up there."

"Tread jobs? Haven't worked with one of those bastards in a while. Must be nice getting a 120mm gun and four inches of armor."

"Tell me about it."

The two joked. Yet the joking would soon end as they converged on the hospital. Thousands of civillians were flushing towards it or into the inner sanctum of the city looking for safety. Walt and his convoy could only look on in hopes they'd survive. Gaining more and more ground they then begin to run into check points with other units similar to their own running them. The looks on their faces clearly showed horror and hopelessness, and the blood staining their uniforms and bodies showed it far better than words ever could.

"It's a fucking shooting gallery and we're on the wrong end. Poor bastards."

Said Jose, knowing very well a last stand at the hospital was inevitable.

"Ain't it a bitch, there's only so much we can do brother."

Replied Walt as their convoy pulled up into the parking lot. Quickly dismounting, the sight would be overwhelming for almost all of them. The Mizradian aviation unti stationed just outside the city was now evacuating everybody they could while attempting to provide support for the Destinadian's helpless effort on the ground. Parked behind hesco barriers and sandbags in defensive positions, T-72M's and T-80A's would provide most of the heavy support along with their manned machine guns. All around them, other humvees and troops were set up to take on a massive force of enemy troops. Around the hospital, some of the only high rises and well built structures in the favela still stood strong and would make up the outer defensive ring. The shanty buildings around them were already being knocked down so the enemy would be seen coming. All around, choppers circled waiting to land and pick up more refugees. Little did anybody know but there was also a Mizradian AC-130 silently waiting far up in the atmosphere for it's chance to rain explosives on rebel forces. On the roof tops snipers and more positions had been set up while down in the parking lots below tents and cargo containers were being used to house and register both troops and refugees while also providing medical care and acting as resupply depots.

Being approached by a man in Mizradian uniform, Walt shakes his hand as they begin walking towards a command tent. The rest of Whiskey team simply dismounts and looks for whatever help they needed be it medical or seeking more ammo. Entering the large green tent Garcia sits down covered in blood, dirt and ash with his tattered uniform and equipment. A scratched up HK416 hung from his shoulder. All around the room Walt noticed most of the people looked just like him. They were all from his unit's sister platoons and groups. The "Alphabet Battalion" as they were nicknamed consisted of roughly thirty convoys of eight humvees each under a callsign starting with a different letter or using the military alphabet. They were also the unit which had rotated in to police the Strip for the next few months as a regular police force would be slaughtered. Watching the Mizradian man stand at the head of the table with a dusty and bloody uniform eye the room, Garcia waits for him to speak up. Eventually he does so with a heavy eastern European accent.

"Gentlemen, I come to you with urgent news. If you have yet to notice the world is in turmoil. Everywhere from my home country, to yours to Ghant war has broken out. However we must stand together in these times of need for a house divided will fall. But I'm sure none of you wish to hear my useless pep talk so I'll get right into what's going on. Hours ago, the president of Maverica issued an order to the people of Destinado Tierra. If they were to rise in rebellion and give Maverica partial control of this country they would help you all reach riches. I also don't need to tell you this is a lie. What I do need to tell you though is help is on the way. Destinadian mechanized divisions are converging on the city as we speak and talks of a quick reaction force being sent from Mizrad have already begun. Yet we need to focus on the current situation."

He rolls out a map of the surrounding area on the rickety table.

"We're here, and this is how far out the ring of security goes."

He points to a dot on the hospital and a red square going out a mile in every direction from said dot.

"This square gives us four square miles of land to make a last stand. We are one of the last surviving safe zones in this sector of the city and the rebels will undoubtedly go through hell to see this place burn. It's up to us to make sure that doesn't happen. If worst comes to worse we'll evacuate but we can't do that until every civilian is pulled out. That may take a few hours even with Mizradian help. So it's hold out here or die. If you're not willing to fight until your last breath for the people here, yourself included, to get out then please leave this tent immediately."

Nobody moves.

"Good, I knew I could trust you men. So here's the plan; we'll take four humvee platoons and station them at four seperate high rises. One in each square mile will give us a commanding view and the ability to rain hell on the rebels. Remember, they'll be rushing at you with whatever they have with only the thought of killing you but there is good news. You have trained for this very moment since the moment you signed up for the military and you've been given the means to do so. As far as we know Maverican support has yet to arrive and help from Mizrad will surely arrive first if we can muster it quickly. This means you will have the advantage. With a platoon spread out in a reinforced line strecthing out for two or more city blocks we should be able to hold the insurgents off long enough for sniper teams and air strike designators to get into position. A Mizradian AC-130 is on call for tasking on the designators your platoons will be tasked with protecting are the only people capable of guiding her into a firing position so don't take your jobs lightly. This isn't a suicide mission either because you will have the wrath of a pair of little birds supporting each group. You all know this area far better than anybody else so navigating it shouldn't be too hard but as you know maps are here for you. You'll also be one of the first lines of defense. Only two blocks ahead of you is the outer most ring in our many defensive layers which is made up of BTR's, M113's and more humvees. Protecting their flanks and rear will also be a main objective of each platoon. Now unfortunately I don't have any more time to explain things to you so if you need assistance call in over the command channel for instructions. Now get to your trucks and get moving, time is of the essence gentlemen. Good luck."

With that, the average height Mizradian with a dark brown beard and hair cut rolls up the map and sits down at the table for the next group's briefing. Taking the hint to get out the four platoon commanders exit the tent and rush out to their vehicles. Most of their men had already been there waiting for them and the others who weren't were now returning. Garcia quickly jumps into the driver's seat of the first humvee as the rest of his platoon gets together. Over his radio he begins calling out orders.

"All Whiskey team victors mount up and follow me, we're heading out to protect a recon team directly behind the front line. Strap in and get ready for one hell of a fight because we're in this one for the long run."

Quickly getting in to what HMMWV's remained the platoon sets off. Already two men had deserted and multiple more were dead or wounded. It was rag tag group of soldiers but they were the only ones left to get the job done. Moving out beyond the safety of the hospital they push through the streets. Most were completely deserted aside from being dotted with defensive emplacements or abandoned cars, clothes, items and dead bodies.

"Fuckin' pitiful. Why we gotta' live in a world like this dog?"

Asked Private Manuel Cortega, one of Garcia's men through the radio.

"Because humans are a fucked up race of people. We get paid to put them in line so please try and do your job."

After the short drive out to the line the team comes across a group of three soldiers guarding an M35 parked out side the target building. They had set up a tiny sand bag emplacement, barbed wire and pushed two cars in to the road as a defensive set up. Beyond the line was a pile of dead rebels. The streets were soaked with the blood of both sides.

Pulling up behind the wall the troops get out as Walt barks orders.

"All gunners stay with your vehicles, Cortez take your element and help these men hold the streets we'll head into the tower."

The troops quickly do as they are told as Walter meets with one of the recon operators.

"I'm Lieutenant Garcia, we were sent here to help you defend those laser designators. What's the current situation?"

The two shake hands and the recon man responds.

"I'm Sergeant Chang pleasure to meet you sir. Sadly we've run into quite a bit of trouble. We started with ten men, three deserted, two are dead and there's us down here with the other two in the tower either providing cover or using those designators. It would sure as hell be helpful if you split your men up and had some help us down here."

Cortez arrives.

"Not a problem, my group and I can hold the streets if everybody up in that tower can do what they need to do."

The sergeant of Asian descent nods and orders everybody to get into position. Cortez and the gunners line up along the street as Garcia takes a small group of soldiers and rushes up to get to the top floor. The building was empty aside from a few dead office workers and the equipment they had left behind. Taking to the roof far, far above the street level they meet with the two snipers. Rushing through the hand shaking what they need to do becomes obvious as one of the snipers looking down his scope pokes his head up and looks at his partner.

"Sir, we've got a massive group of hostiles moving down the street. I suggest you take a look at this."

The lead sniper takes a look through the scope and Garcia stalks the target with his binoculars. The sight wasn't helpful. All the civilians fleeing to the evac zone attracted a parade of rebels. They packed the road from end to end with seemingly no room in between.

"There's got to be a thousand of them down there!"

Yells Walt.

"Get on that designator now!"

The platoon quickly fans out along the roof and prepares to fire as the sniper team locks in a target for the AC-130 from the Mizradian Air Force. After some chatter through the radio a red beam bursts from the green box and heads towards the crowd. It was the main road coming in to the square and fortunately it was the only one that had been that filled with rebels but the side streets had groups of insurgents pushing down them in hefty numbers as well.

Then suddenly from the clouds a huge burst of orange lines rains down like a fire from God. This was no rain however, this was a hail storm of 105mm rounds and 40mm shells. Upon reaching their target they begin to burst and explode sending the rebels flying. Fires broke out and they all began to scatter. But they pressed on and it turned into an all out charge. Picking up the fire the gunship uses everything it has to try and slow them down. Multiple 20mm gatling guns, 40mm Bofors cannons and a 105mm gun all bear down on the insurgents. Smashing the streets, crumbling the buildings and thinning their numbers. Extending on for miles the line continues to push inward until they reach the outer line of defense. BTR's, M113's and other vehicles unleash hell combined with their protector in the sky. Raining down every bit of ordanance they have the push finally begins to slow. Now the group, still hundreds if not thousands strong fans out and converges on the Destinadian military.

Over head two UH-1 Hueys whiz by the roof top and begin blazing the streets with their miniguns. Suddenly something emerges from the crowds and ascends into the sky then rails itself into the belly of one of the hueys. Upon contact it explodes and the chopper bursts into flames and snaps in half. The other helicopter quickly buzzes away and dodges the other incoming missile before turning back to the hospital. Behind the tower the remaining evacuation helicopters take flight and storm away from the square. So on this process continues as the government desperately attempts to usher out the civilians.

Taking up aim with his rifle Walter begins pelting the stragglers who made it through the outer line. The other soldiers quickly follow in as the snipers try once again to get the AC-130 to help them out. Then not too far off in the distance, maybe a few blocks away something horrifying occurs. The outer laying skyscrapers become engulfed in an explosion and crumble to the ground. It quickly turns into a chain reaction bringing down three massive buildings in total and killing hundreds in seconds.

"Shit! Hold on they're coming down!"

Yells one of the snipers as the ground begins to rumble and dust bursts throughout the streets. Over the radio the AC-130 comes in.

"Recon Element this Overwatch, be advised we can't tell who is who down there and we're running low on ammo and fuel. Sorry but we've got to bail. Good luck gentlemen we'll be back as soon as we can. Overwatch out."

And with that their biggest hope of survival flies away. Down on the streets two BTR's rush by and head for the safety of the inner circle. Realizing this scene would be playing out everywhere and that his objective was technically completed, Garcia orders all of his men and the snipers to head down to the streets to pack up. On his way down the stairs he makes a call to command.

"Whiskey Actual this is Whiskey 1-1, we are being surrounded and have lost gunship support. Please advise over."

The commander replies back in a rushed and worried tone.

"Whiskey 1-1 hold the line as best you can we're trying to evacuate all wounded and high ranking personnell. There is a road out of here and most of our forces are convoying out on it because the choppers aren't ferrying everybody out fast enough. Just hold on son."

"Yes sir, I'll see what I can do."

Reaching the street level to find his men were still being surrounded yet only taking a light amount of fire, he takes up a position behind the wall and reloads his weapon. The platoon wasn't ready to give up without a fight.

"El Diablo's Villa", Northwestern Destinado Tierra
Hours Before Martin and Turner's Escape
Zakkhar Anatoly
"Bullets are the Beauty of Our Sky"

Waking up in a small adobe house in El Diablo's Villa, the tall former field surgeon looks around as his eyes adjust to the early morning. The sun had yet to rise and the crudely put up lights in the village along with the massive light show up by the main villa mansion were the only things providing light. Getting up off the matress he had set up on the floor Zakkhar Anatoly makes his way over to the bathroom. Pushing open the thin wooden door he turns on the old porcelain sink and splashes water on his face. Quickly brushing his teeth and then turning the water off he heads for the shower. Making sure to scrub himself up he's out in about two minutes. Drying off the tall Loufian and Destinadian mixed doctor pulls a grey v-neck t shirt on over his tanned Hispanic skin hiding away his fairly muscular build. Tossing on a dark blue pair of jeans and black combat boots he gets ready to head out the door before stopping to grab himself a pair of sunglasses. Black, "frogskin" Oakleys to be exact.

Walking up the hard packed dirt road towards the main villa mansion under the dark sky Zak looks towards each little hut and house as he moves by them. He was fortunate enough to hold a rather high position within the cartel; acting as one of the Boss' right hand men as well as being his go to doctor. Anatoly was never great with a gun and never really liked most types of people but what he was amazing at was anything within the medical field from fixing a brain injury to curing a disease this man could help to accomplish it if not do it entirely alone. The Hispanic had also picked up quite a few hand-to-hand combat skills throughout his life and remains a highly trained and great fighter up close whether he is wielding a weapon or his martial arts expertise. Those two things were what got him to the place he was and that was why he was given a small house on "The Hill" where any of the Boss' lead men resided. Anybody below the hill was most likely living below the poverty line and was considered expendable.

Starting at the less fortunate reminded Zakkhar of his past as he could connect to it so well. Armed men roamed the streets and sat on roof tops, some times they would push around the civilians but that was discouraged in public. Everybody knew rape and murdering occured so often at night that people just stopped caring. That evoked Anatoly to almost always view the enforcers of the cartel badly. Almost every single one of them was an evil person through and through. Zak was stuck in the wrong place however and now the only thing he needs is money, thus why he'd begun working for the cartel.

Eventually Zakkhar would find himself standing in the courtyard of the Boss' villa after being let in by the guards. There he was. "El Diablo", "The Boss", "Overseer", he went by many names but only one of them was official. Pablo Juarez. A Destinadian man through and through Pablo was also quite short. Pablo, or Paul in English in fact meant "Short" in Latin. Pablo referred to that as a lucky guess. He had light and cloudy blue eyes with extremely tan skin and greasy black hair. His chin was cleanly shaven down to the skin. Dressed in a white suit and expensive black shoes he shakes the hand of Anatoly before they begin walking throughout the courtyard together.

"Zakkhar, I've know you for a long time mi amigo. I can trust you, no? There is a man that helped get me to where I am today. You have met him before. A tall soldier with a heart of iron. John Turner, we were much younger when he became aqquainted with me and in that time he sheltered me from harm. El es an amigo. Nosotros ayudamos amigos."

He says in Spanish showing he was serious.

"Head down to the airfield and pack your things. You must head to Loufe to retrieve him. I owe him one, this cartel will repay their debts."

Anatoly nods. Loufe was his home country and this would be the first time in a while he had to head back there.

"I understand Pablo, I'll get it done. How will I know where they are?"

The Boss laughs.

"The pilots will get you there, just make sure he or our equipment isn't hurt. Be on your way."

They shake hands again before Zakkahr exits the perimeter of the villa. In a matter of minutes he would gather his things, lock the door to his small house and head down to the air strip. A lone little Aviocar sat waiting for departure. Stepping on board while pulling on his parka Anatoly glances at the pilot. Knowing Zakkhar would be sent down to him, the pilots quickly start the plane and make way for Loufe. In a few hours they would be arriving to rescue Martin and John. Little did they know, the world may also be at stake.

[Mizrad]

Farrison Pass, Isaac Mountains, Maverica
12:00 HOURS, 10/23/13, DAY 8
24th Army Special Operations Group Platoon, 9th Mountain Division
OPERATION HOMEFRONT

"Fuck! Bourne is hit!"

Yells McWorth as he notices a bullet has ripped clear through Josh's throat. Only small flaps of skin held the man's head on. He would be dead before he even hit the ground. Meanwhile the sounds of more men rushing into the pass from far off in the distance could be heard. Knowing the enemy would continue to advance if he didn't do anything, the captain orders his men to stop trying to move and begin laying down fire so they could fall back to a better defensive position. Remaining behind the cover of the rock, McWorth pulls the M240 down into his hands and reloads the weapon. Mumbling a quick prayer to Bourne as he does so the captain realizes what he must do. Staying crouched behind the boulder he places his rifle against it with the barrel poking out, making it look like a man was there waiting to shoot. Using this to draw fire he then makes his way over to the other end of the rock and remains unseen. Waiting a few seconds until the other men in his platoon start shooting again the captain ascends from cover and unloads on the main position of the Mavericans only to hear bagpipes and find Maverican horsemen were rushing forward. Keeping up the fire he calls through the radio with a plan.

"Sears, Strong get to the high ground behind us and start suppressing their reinforcements. Make them think we're larger than we actually are."

Then he flicks the channel to speak with the paratroopers.

"All callsigns this is Frost Team, we are located at the mouth of Farrison Pass under heavy fire and encountering what might be the Maverican QRF. We have multiple KIA and wounded if anybody is around we need help immediately over."

Putting down the radio Captain McWorth resumes firing and dumping hundreds of 7.62mm rounds into the oncoming Mavericans. Right behind him the other members of Frost Team were doing the same thing refusing to retreat. Every single one of them knew how important it would be to hold the entrance to Farrison Pass. If they managed to put a hault to the Maverican counterattack the Mizradians would have a clear shot into the heart of Maverica. If not, the Mavericans would march right back to the Avery Mountains and all that Mizrad had fought for in just about every war against Maverica would be lost. Unfortunately it was eighteen versus well over ten thousand in a battle which would undoubtedly end in the deaths of all eighteen. All they had to do was hold on for just a few more minutes, the fate of the war would now rest on them.

Meanwhile, the team's sniper and spotter had repositioned themselves in the snow just under roughly three fourths of a mile away. The .50 caliber anti-material rifle which Sears had been armed with would have no trouble rushing the distance to get to a target with pinpoint accuracy. Noticing the boy with a sniper rifle taking aim at McWorth as he had Bourne only a short while earlier Justin adjusts his scope to fire while Strong spots more targets.

"I wish you would have just stayed home kid."

Sears whispers as he takes the shot. His crosshairs rested just above the body of the boy as it would compensate for the distance making the bullet more likely to land on target. Pulling the bolt on the rifle back a bullet casing is ejected from the gun. Popping out and landing in the snow Sears shuffles his position a bit. He moves on to another enemy, this time one of the men riding in on horseback. Deciding hitting the person would be too unlikely, the spotter orders the sniper to aim for the horse. Quickly adjusting and then pulling the trigger another .50 caliber bullet bursts from the barrel and heads through the air. Reloading his rifle, Sears asks for another target. Strong begins calling out everything that has a heavy weapon for Sears to shoot. Over and over the two men would hit priority targets to provide cover for the rest of their platoon.

"How we lookin' on ammo?"

Asks Strong.

"Not good, only a few shots left."

Replies Sears. Things were getting desperate and these men needed a solution to their problem.

Under the watchful eye and protection of Justin's sniper the platoon fans out into a half moon around the mouth of the pass. This would do a few things. The first would be minimizing how many Maverican troops could actually fight and maximizing how many Mizradians could get a shot. This would then take the second thing into account; the Mizradians would seem like a force far larger than they really were as they could put shots into their enemies with relative safety compared to their opponents who would have to rush into the open with only trees as cover. Although this tactic could only work so well and despite how hard Frost Team was fighting they were still taking on far too many casualties. Almost everybody in the platoon was now wounded if not dead and the Mavericans were starting to show up not by the tens but the hundreds and soon it would be the thousands. Reinforcements capable of evening the odds were still far away but finally, something could at least provide a helping hand. Through the radioes of Frost Team they hear something that lifts their morale up to a level where they can finally fight again.

"Frost Team hold on to your helmets, 31st Division, 1st Field Artillery is dropping ordnance danger close in front of your position over."

Says a firm voice.

"Solid copy artillery! There's a special spot in Heaven reserved for all of you fuckin' angels!"

McWorth yells back through the radio. Only a few seconds later the light 105mm artillery pieces fire on the pass. Their rounds drop all over the entrance to Farrison as they only have little knowledge as to what they're trying to shoot at but the handful of cannons still give the help the men of Frost Team so desperately needed. Using the confusion the artillery provided the A-SOG operators use what little time they have to hastily reload and reposition. Unfortunately there were very few men left now and a few had even died from the 1st Field Artillery's support. Though this wouldn't stop them from fighting. Slapping fresh magazines into their guns they pop up to fire once again with their dying breaths. Everybody knew they would lose this battle but they would die knowing they may have just saved the war. Helping up an injured rifleman, McWorth begins yelling things to his men. Blood soaked his uniform and he'd been shot four times in the chest, twice in the leg and a bullet had even ripped off the side of his helmet rendering it useless. Dust, ash and grime covered almost every inch of his body. The colors of red and black stained his skin but he presses on shooting.

"We won't die in vain my brothers, running is useless now! We'll drag these invaders down to hell with us! Onward to victory!"

McWorth yells, firing shot after shot from his machine gun into the Mavericans before finally being taken down by being shot in the head. Like Bourne he would die before hitting the ground. Down to seven men with Strong and Sears now joining in the fight at a closer range to utilize their other weapons Frost Team runs into the problem of running low on ammo. Most of their cover had been destroyed as well and now all they could do was fire their last shots into the Mavericans before succumbing to their wounds. Scavenging bullets off their fallen comrades the A-SOG operators press on. Sears uses his high powered rifle to bring down any armored targets or those using horses while the men with LMG's suppress and the riflemen take potshots at anything that moves. Being pushed further and further back the men are forced to congregate in a crater behind a giant boulder. As one riflemen focuses on shooting at anything that tries to surround them while another piles up magazines, equipment, bodies and debris at their flanks to use as cover the other five stand strong at the rock firing into their agressors. One by one the men of 24th Platoon go down and can no longer get up. The front of the rock was being chipped away by the hail of gun fire and they were slowly being encircled. Knowing this would be the end as the Mavericans get only feet from their position Sears takes control and suggests a daring plan. Screaming over the gun fire he tells everybody what he was about to do.

"I'm callin' in everything we've got on our position. If those Maverican fuckers want us they can take us! Throw your hands up and surrender on my mark!"

Despite the confusion everybody agrees and provides Sears cover while he calls it in.

"All Mizradian forces in the area! I am currently located at the entrance to Farrison Pass! It is designated as Marker 19 on the battle map! I want everything you have rained down on this position there are thousands of Maverican troops surrounding us! We have four men left and we're only bullets away from running out of ammo! Don't let us die in vain! Semper Fidelis!"

He screams before tossing the radio and ripping off his dog tags. Sears tucks them under the boulder in the hopes that they would survive and be found there to be sent home to their families. He then orders his men to surrender and they wave a white rag in the air. Coming out from behind cover to meet their enemy Justin grins.

"It's been an honor serving with you all. I'm sorry we all couldn't get back home. See you brave, crazy, loyal morons on the other side."

With their dying breaths... the men laugh at Sears joke. Then the whistle of Mizradian artillery, bombs, rockets, missiles and gun fire can be heard coming in. Nobody would know if the Mavericans shot the survivors of Frost Team first or if friendly fire had got to them but the hail of Mizradian fire support would surely deal a damaging blow the Mavericans who would've had to have bunched up around Sears and his team. With all those men in a rather open space they would surely be slaughtered. In the handful of minutes that Frost Team had provided, the 31st Division's field artillery managed to set up while other Mizradian fire support elements became available once again. It was now all directed right on top of Farrison Pass. Slamming into the ground and oblitering everything the explosions send a shockwave throughout the forest even louder than the previous battle.

The time saved by McWorth and his men hadn't only been used to regroup the fire support battalions, it was also used for the 31st Airborne Divison to gather up and make their retaliatory strike at Farrison Pass and at the feet of the mountains. Luchs light tanks and LY219's outfitted for different roles such as IFV's armed with 25mm guns or MGS' with 105mm HVAP guns finally become operational after landing and meet up with the troops. Pushing through the forest with dozer blades ripping over debris and trees the vehicles head for various positions that had been marked on the invasion map. Marker 19 was Farrison Pass, the only path wide enough for a large scale invasion to use as a road in and out of the mountains. The other markers, going up to 20 were dotted along smaller passes through the mountains and defensive positions set at the base of the range. What General Arner and his advisers had put in place as a plan was rather simple. The main invasion force would push through the passes and hold them while the others kept the mountains isolated as trying to take them quickly would prove impossible. Air support was the name of that game where as infantry and vehicles would be the name of making a move on the heart land of Maverica. All the while fire support and logistics battalions would set up behind the cover of the mountains and begin shelling different targets in the way of the invasion.

On the ground things were getting dirty, the front line was a jagged, zig zagged line running just a smidge west of Mizrad's objective. All attempts that had been made by the 31st to land past the mountains proved unsuccessful as Maverican militia and police destroyed and killed off anything that had been dropped in that area. On the other side of the mountains there was also stiff resistance but landing was at least possible. So close yet so far thought Corporal Hesh Wheatley while riding on the back of a Luchs light tank armed with a 152mm gun launcher. The convoy consisted of the tank he was riding on, another light tank armed with a 90mm gun and an LY219 AMTV armed with a .50 Caliber M2. Roughly a platoon of men was riding with them and other troops could be seen rushing through the woods by their sides. On their ride through the woods Hesh looks to the sky and watches the columns of acrid, black smoke rise into the air. They weren't too far from where Sears had just been disengrated and that meant the Mavericans would begin closing on them once they started recovering from the artillery strike. Although the Mizradians were rushing to the mouth of the pass en masse and would be delivering the first blow. While they were doing that, Hesh and his group would run into another problem. A large force of Maverican troops, probably a company strong had come down through the mountains and were now causing trouble for the 31st. Though they had managed to press on past the initial squads of Maverican militia men fighting the Highlanders and the Maverican regulars would prove a lot harder. A burst of fire rips through the air and pings off the armor of the light tank infront of Wheatley while more accurate fire hits the man sitting next to him in the stomach. Grabbing hold of the injured man he drags him down to the other side of the tank and dives off. Rolling against the ground he then props up the wounded Mizradian against the tank for the medic to treat him. Jameson then yells for help as the 90mm cannon of the Luchs rips a shot into the woods around where the shots had come from. The 152mm gun armed light tank was now repositioning itself off the path to fire, as doing so where it was previously would deafen everybody as well as scream their position to everybody in the surrounding area. Loading an HE shell and targeting where they had been fired on, the crew fires their massive gun. As it makes contact a massive explosion occurs while also shaking the ground around the tank. They quickly load another round to fire while the other tank and APC open fire. The infantry split into two groups, one stays behind to support the vehicles and assault element while the other designated as the assault element would rush forward and locate who was giving them trouble.

Hesh would be one of the men ordered forward along with the 19th A-SOG platoon. Just east of their position was a few squads of Mizradians, two teams of eight men. Fortunately one had a 60mm mortar despite none of them having any other heavy weaponry. Pushing around to make a sort of half circle in the way of the Mavericans Hesh meets the two friendly fire teams and points out where the enemy troops had been firing from. Setting down the mortar to begin firing Hesh and Walters then make a rush forward into the enemy. While taking fire they settle in behind some trees and uneven terrain. Once in position they then open fire. Meanwhile other Mizradian forces would be pushing in and they were about to show the Mavericans that the tides had finally turned.

Just beyond Hesh, maybe a half mile or so southwest was Farrison Pass. There the Mizradians had decided to focus a huge amount of fire power. Continued artillery strikes were now targetting the entrance on the other end of the pass to cut of the Mavericans while the paratroopers pushed on the Mizradian side of the mountains. Finding where Sears and Strong had once set up with his rifle three quarters of a mile away from the battle the Mizradian QRF takes note of it as they push on. With three 90mm gunned tanks, one LY219 armed with a 120mm mortar alongside a convoy of four HMMWV's and multiple platoons of infantry sizing at just over a company the Mizradians were going to encircle the mouth of the crevice just as Frost Team had done. This time though, they had enough firepower to level a town.

Over the Isaac Mountains

"If everything is going according to plan, you're walking into an ambush"

This was a direct quote from just about every hand book in the Mizradian military. Whenever things were going good all members of the armed forces from the privates to the generals were expected to be as on edge and vigilant as they would be while in the middle of a heated battle. This tactic would be what saved the aircraft transports dropping men into the Isaac Mountains. The cargo aircraft begin utilizing every different countermeasure and maneuever they can as the squadrons of F-18's and F-25's close in on the Maverican air force who had stupidly taken the bait of transport aircraft and moved into the open. Barreling down from 68,000 Feet above sea level multiple squadrons of F-25's lock on to the enemy F-29's and unleash hails of AIM-120 long range air-to-air missiles and 20mm cannon fire. Rushing to the aid of the damaged transport aircraft they quickly wrap around them like a protective blanket and rip into their unsuspecting enemies. Adding additional support to the helpless transport aircraft are the F-18's which had already taken quite a few hits from the enemy F-29's who had reaped on them like the F-25's of Mizrad had to the Mavericans. Now flying in a massive formation giving mutual protection to the huge force anything in their way meets a hail of fire. Sticking together to ensure that the Mavericans don't pick off any stragglers, squadrons of F-25's break off one by one to take the fight to enemy. Recent bombing runs and the artillery bombardment from Mizrad had reduced the numbers of both Maverican aircraft in the north and had made their radar and AA systems nearly non-existant. The only thing standing between Mizrad's complete air superiority was multiple wings of F-29's.

From the ground, the mobile anti-aircraft guns dropped in by the 31st could wreak havoc on the enemy F-18's and anything else that flew too low or too slow to escape their grasp. Avenger-Humvee mounted missiles and mobile SAM's mounted on the LY219's point themselves to the sky and fire. Whether or not they would be effective enough to actually take down a significant portion of Maverican fighters was one thing that was most likely not going to happen but scaring them off was far more likely.

Back up in the sky the Mizradians had devised a strategy. The F-18's would fly with the vulnerable transport aircraft on their way back to Mizrad as squadrons of F-25's would split off, engage the Mavericans for a short period of time then kick in the afterburners to get to their service ceiling far above where the Mavericans could ever hope to reach. At this height they would then fly to transport aircraft and rejoin them while another squadron repeats the process over and over keeping up the intensity while not having to subject one specific group to a continued dog fight, where as the enemy would be forced to fight non stop in an attempt to wear them down. As the air force begins to pull this off, they head for the safety of Mizrad where more fighters would replace the transport aircraft and they would rejoin the fight over the Isaac Mountains.

Meanwhile at Fort Williams
"Thunder Run"

"Garcia! Load HE rounds!"

Screams 1st Sergeant Brody Smith, the commander of a the "Bringer of Peace", a Panther 1A1 MBT leading the assault on Fort Williams. Looking through his cupola the signs of destruction all around can be seen with clarity. Corporal Alfonso Garcia, the tank's loader hurriedly slams a 120mm high explosive shell into the barrel of the tank as he sweats profusely. Nailing the shell into place and preparing it to be fired, Alfonso sits back in the tank as he yells out to the gunner, Sgt. Will Milano.

"Will you're all set! Get shooting!"

He screams over the mechanical noises inside the tank and the battle going on outside. Milano wastes no time in finding a target. Using the gun stabilizers to his advantage the sergeant spots an AT gun firing upon them. Before he can react it fires, sending a shell straight towards the Bringer of Peace. The round lands in front of them harmlessly as Brody starts yelling again.

"Milano put fire on that fuckin' gun! We might not have another stroke of luck like that again!"

Will presses his eyes against the optics and moves the gun into place. The frantic feeling of knowing what he did next would decide the fate of his crew tries to push into his head but the sergeant fights on and finds his target. As the gun rests in place while they hurl themselves towards the front line just past thirty miles an hour he takes the shot. The tank is knocked a bit off course as they roll forwards but their desperate retaliation had worked. Off in the distance a plume of smoke billows up from an explosion where Milano had hit.

"It worked! Fuck yeah!"

Garcia cries out with a smile.

"We ain't done yet Al put another high explosive in!"

Brody says putting the crew back in check. Knowing the city around Fort Williams would be the area where everybody was to head first before assaulting the fort Brody then orders the driver Private Dontez Chance to fall in line with the other vehicles. The Mizradian assault was poised to nail the northeastern sector of Port Williams. Fifty Panther 1A1 tanks were hauling their way into the confines of the urban jungle and the Bringer of Peace was right up at the front. From his commander's cupola, Brody could watch the sky erupt with thousands of different explosions and squadrons upon squadrons of planes chasing after each other. Returning his focus to their objective Smith spots AT rockets screaming out of the buildings on the outskirts of the town. One comes straight towards their tank and explodes as it hits the front of the turret. Getting knocked around inside the tank the occupants recover and push on.

"Another hit like that and the spall liner might not hold up!"

Screams Garcia.

"The turret should be fine! It's getting stuck inside the city without a working chassis that I'm scared of! Now put some lead in that fucker's house!"

Smith whips back. Alfonso hurriedly releases the spent shell casing and replaces it with a 120mm HEAT round. Sweat drips off of his face as his veins bulge and his body turns a bright red. Lifting the ammo wasn't an easy task even when they weren't being spanked with all sorts of bullets and projectiles. Locking the shell into place and giving the ok to fire the young Hispanic starts praying as their tank lurches forward and receives fire from more enemy anti-tank measures. Pressing hand against a picture of his family taped inside the tank he hopes they'll survive the fight. Milano then takes over and moves the turret to a firing position.

"Fuck! Fuckin' fuck! The gun's stuck!"

He punches the ammo case next to him cutting up his knuckles. Garcia is quick to come up with a solution.

"Deuce the thing will still work just keep me alive long enough to fix it!"

Milano rests his forehead on the optics as the Mizradian tanks get even closer to the city.

"If I can't angle it what the hell will I do to keep you alive!?"

Garcia gets thrown out of his chair by another hit from a rocket. The tank comes to a stop as Chance holds his chest, he'd been hit by a piece of metal thrown around in the cabin and was now suffering from a few broken ribs. Knowing they would be a sitting duck Alfonso places his hands on the shoulder of Milano.

"Just fucking point it at something brother. Get us home to our families. Win or lose we're in this together! HIT SOMETHING!"

Hearing bullets bounce off the armor of their panther Milano wraps his fingers around the controls and moves the turret into position. Aimed right where a hail of defensive fire was coming from Will pushes Al back into his chair and fires. The tank is rocked around as the HEAT round ejects out of the gun and screams towards it's target. Before "Deuce" can see the result the tank starts moving again and he finds another target.

"We're still in this! We're still in this!"

Dontez chants ignoring his injuries while pressing on. By their sides the remaining tanks, downed from fifty to about thirty five and dwindling do the same. Right behind the armored spearhead would be the infantry making a flanking attack in their trucks and APC's. Swinging around to the east and circling back in they would strike with the tanks while still being shielded from enemy fire. Getting deeper into Maverica than any other Mizrad ever had the Bringer of Peace pushes into the outer defensive line of Port Williams and begins to open up with the coaxial and roof mounted machine guns. Emerging from the interior Brody ducks behind the reinforced shield of the M134D pintle mounted mini-gun and looks for where they were being hit from. Spotting enemy infantry sprawled out in their path with the chance to take out their tank he presses down on the firing mechanism and the multi-barelled weapon spews out an ungodly amount of 7.62mm rounds into the Mavericans. Down below the coaxial 7.62mm machine gun opens up as well as one more HEAT shell is loaded into the breach. Spitting orders down from his position behind the MG, Smith calls for a shot into a three story building firing down on them. Realizing that the gun wouldn't be able to be elevated into a firing position Dontez angles their tank into a good defensive spot before nominating himself to fix the gun.

"No! We can't risk losing you!"

Milano yells.

"I'm the closest to it anyways, and besides all I do is drive! It's just like on a car you can replace me!"

The arguing continues until Chance decides to just do it anyways. Brody and Milano utilize their roof mounted guns to suppress the enemy as Dontez makes a daring attempt to remove the shards of metal out of the elevation mechanism. Feeling the butt of the M240G push hard into his shoulder as he fires, Milano fires round after round as the shell casings gracefully jump out of the bullet chamber. Watching helplessly while bullets ping against the Bringer of Peace Dontez, sprawled out on the hull of their tank, gets to work. Reaching with his hands and removing the shrapnel he gets down to the last piece before being shot in the back. Screaming in agony and crumbling to the ground with a thud Alfonso notices his fallen comrade.

"Cover me!"

The fearless Hispanic calls out clamboring through through the crew's cabin to reach the driver's hatch. Emerging with an M4A1 Carbine he sprints off the top of the hull and ducks behind a rock. Popping out while kneeling on one knee and placing four shots towards the enemy lines he then whips around to Dontez who was cowering behind the vehicle to keep himself alive. Sprinting low over to where he was Alfonso looks over the top of the tank and releases a small burst of fire at the Maverican lines.

"You okay shit ticket? What were you thinkin' ese?"

He asks.

"I don't know, j-j-just get me inside the fu-fucking tank!"

Seeing blood soaking through the back of his shirt Garcia leans him forward and notices the bullet wound between his spine and lungs. It looked like it missed any vital areas but it would still cause a lot of issues if the bullet, which remained inside his body, moved around and punctured a lung or cut up his heart.

"Try not to jump around like that again or you'll have quite a bit of trouble breathin' dumb fuck."

Al picks him up gently and aiding him back into the tank while providing cover fire the brutally maimed driver points to the gun.

"I-it's still jammed!"

Pushing Chance back into his chair Alfonso makes his way to the gun. Holding the carbine in one hand, spraying 5.56mm rounds furiously towards the enemy he begins kicking away at the shard until it comes loose and falls out. Dumping his magazine and loading another he drops a few more shots and then climbs in as the Mavericans get a bead on him. As a bullet grazes his shoulder he descends into the belly of the Bringer of Peace with a disgruntled smile on his face while wiping away at his shoulder.

"We ain't done yet motherfucker!"

The crew laughs as Smith and Milano return to their stations and button up. Dontez gets a towel pushed into his wounds to soak up the blood before everybody gets back to their tasks. Getting the tank moving again as the anti-tank weapons of the Mavericans close in on them they quickly get out of dodge and catch up with the other remaining tanks. Using his recently fixed gun to take care of their problems Will awaits Brody's decision on what to fire at. Each man was covered in grease and grime while the driver and loader shared the commonality of being covered in blood. Running his hands down his cheeks trying to look for what would be the next most important target Brody spots enemy troops moving into place.

"Hostile footmobiles at your twelve! Outside the first floor of the red brick building! Load HEAT, fire for effect!"

With the high explosive anti-tank shell already loaded Milano finds his target in a short time and makes goes to make quick work of them. Blasting away with the 120mm cannon the 4th Armored lurches forward towards the city as the infantry would soon come in from the east with only one thought. Take Port Williams at all costs.

Over Fort Williams

"Well there they are, all callsigns open up on those remaining Maverican aircraft."

General Arner says through the command radio channel to all Mizradian fighters in the area. Their radar and other reports, along with eye witness accounts had proved intelligence was to a degree finally correct. Maverica's anti-aircraft and aircraft network in the north was decimated. However this didn't mean they couldn't fight, like a cornered dog clawing at it's enemies before finally being put down the Mavericans were trying to hold on to air parity with all they had. After some quick research the remaining targets were now identified. A good number of apaches alongside an even larger amount of fighters were in the air. Yet a far more numerous amount of planes were still grounded. Taking note of the need to quickly establish superiority before the Mavericans could field the last of their fighters the order is given for the F-18's to escort the A-10's into all or nothing strafing runs on the runways of Fort Williams and the airport in the city. At the same time the F-25's would shatter all other resistance still embedding itself in the sky.

Seperating from the main force a pair of A-10's flanked by a squadron of F-18's head for the less heavily defended airfield of Port Williams. Bypassing their enemy in the air as the F-25's take them head on the two ground attack fighters go at full speed towards the airfield. Unexpectedly a storm of AA fire takes the air and pulls down two F-18's instantly.

"Don't stop moving! They're trying to break us out of formation! Hold steady and we'll be out in no time!"

As they close in on the air field the F-18's start to break away to engage enemy fighters as they try and stop the two A-10's. Coming within striking distance they begin unloading with every weapon they have in an attempt to shred the runway. While spraying the airport yet another burst of anti-aircraft fire comes in and takes out one of the engines and bursts holes in the wings on an A-10. The pilot fearlessly keeps his eyes on the prize as bullets and shrapnel enter the cockpit sealing his fate. Coughing up blood he makes one last radio transmission.

"Clear the sky at Port Williams"

He pauses to cough and wheeze, his last words trail off getting quieter by the letter.

"I'll finish this."

As the wings of his A-10 finally break away and the plane begins spiralling uncontrollably, like a football thrown from a quarterback he sends himself and his aircraft into the runway before bursting into a ball of flames. Before the Mizradians could see where the runway had been hit -if it was at all even more AA fire continued to erupt forcing them out. Pulling back and heading towards the airfield at Fort Williams the A-10's that weren't taken out or had retreated were now backing out to refuel and rearm while aircraft were now inbound. As this happened the F-18's had come to take over the role of ground attack craft. Knowing that the airfields of Fort Williams would be heavily guarded by the last bastion of Maverican AA measures the tactics here would be changed from just rolling in and strafing with more bullets than a tax payer could point a finger at to dropping cluster bombs from a squadron of F-18E's outfitted for exactly this type of mission.

Retreating behind the defensive line of F-25's and air-to-air oriented F-18E's that were holding off what Maverican fighters still flew about the specialized squadron soars above Fort Williams out of the range of any AA guns. Missiles though, remained a different story. Once again this realization would quickly be made as the lead plane and it's wing man get blown up and another loses a wing forcing the pilot to eject. Down from seven to four the pilots regroup and begin popping flares in attempt to shake off any more enemy AA measures. Using all sorts of countermeasures as they come over the fort the hornets shrug off the incoming defensive measures and line up to drop their weapons. Releasing a bundle of cluster bombs the four jets scream through the air after doing what they had come to do the Mizradian jets all gather up and form a perimeter around the city to take out anymore incoming aircraft threats. As this goes down another wing of F-18's and F-25's numbering at about fourteen of each come in to relieve the initial aerial attack force which had received far more casualties than previously expected but had still been ordered not to fall back anyways. This plan, while having survived, strained the pilots of souther Mizrad even more than they had already been in the past week. As the fresh new pilots and planes come in they immediately bypass the perimeter of aircraft and head straight to block the Maverican aircraft presumed to come in from beyond Fort Williams and deep into Maverica. The ground and the water may not have been safe for Mizrad but the sky was soon to become their haven.

Off the Southwestern Coast of Mizrad

"You've got to be shitting me... we should have just killed them all when we had the chance."

Muttered Admiral James Santos as he looked down with a depressed look on his face towards the cracked radar screen. From behind him a radio man yells out some good news.

"Sir! Maverican defenses have been shattered! If we're going to mount a VBSS attack now is the time!"

Santos whips around.

"Then do it! We don't have much time!"

Immediately the radioman demands all aircraft in the air begin heading for the Maverican fleet while as many other jets that can be launched off the carriers of the fleet do so. Knowing that the coastal defenses of Mizrad would be within range if Mizrad were to retreat just a short distance, Admiral Santos knows it must be done rather than waiting on the Mavericans to give up. Realizing the incoming projectiles would be hitting within seconds he grabs the radio and yells out to the members of the fleet.

"Fall back within the defensive ring! Keep the fighters in the air and show these fucks they won't get what we've fought so hard for!"

Moments later the MNS Neptune's Spear shrugs off the first few incoming shots from the Maverican fleet. Only a short time later the ship is then brutally railed with all sorts of ordnance causing it to explode. Ripping a quarter of the hull right off the boat begins going down in flames. Slapping his bloodied hands on the destroyed desk at the bridge, Admiral James Santos regains his footing with a massive shrapnel wound in his torso. Taking hold of the radio in the blown out command center he makes one final message.

"This is Admiral James Santos.... all MNS Neptune's Spear personnell abandon ship. Avenge us."

He says before collapsing to the ground and breathing his last breath. While he and the flagship died out, the fighters in the air moved out. Two squadrons of F-18E's and one squadron of F-35's scream forward towards the Maverican fleet to cover their own as they fall back into the safety net of the Mizradian coastal defense batteries and out of range of Maverican cannons and torpedos. Armed with cannons, anti-ship and anti-air missiles with their eyes on the prize they break out and begin reaping the souls of the Mavericans.