Alainha Province, Wrexwic (TG for Entry)

[Bubba Reb]

"Don't mind if I do!" Earnest says as he gratefully accepts the offered cigar. "Nothin like a fine stogie in good company!" He says with a grin.
Now Bubba doesn't have a problem if a person wants a smoke, but that doesn't mean he has to do it, so he passes and graciously declines the offer.

Getting up from their chairs with their hosts, Bubba offers in a joking tone "yeah, ol big dog here enjoys his smokes about as much as a rabbit likes his ears."

Immediately the crew in the tanker responds to the anticipated signal. looking back at the thermals one last time and still seeing nothing but what appears to be boxes in the truck and no further suspicious activity from the occupants, the reply is heard in the mens earpieces, "big dog... rabbit ears. Transport on your two. The bananas are yellow."

Opening the door and looking directly to the right at the unidentified truck, Bubba exits the building with Earnest hanging back slightly while pausing to retie his bootlace. Satisfied that the truck is indeed not an immediate threat, Bubba turns back to his old friend as he watches him exit the building.

"You and your bootlaces! Ol son we gonna have to get you some o them velcro shoes like grandmaw used to wear if'n you caint figure out how to keep em tied!"

"Now that's a good idea Bubba. Reckon they got some in my size?

Hiding a smile Bubba looks down at his friends feet and then frowns. "You do got a point bud, I don't reckon I've ever seen none in size 'canoe' before."

Hidden behind the armor plate on top of the tanker the prone Bubba Rebian sharpshooter grins at the crazy antics of the two men. [i]If only we had a fat bald guy named curly, this crew would be complete.[/i]

Outside of the building now, Bubba assures the Wrexian soldiers.
"As far as your frenchy gang problem is concerned boys, one thing you wont need to fret over is us allowin their filth into our society. I don't know how y'all handle maggots like that here, but back home we put em on the end of a gun, tell em to smile and wait fer the flash.

Which brings up another point we need to be clear on. When its under our roof, its under our rules. If some punk trash decides those laws are just suggestions, we just flat out wont tolerate it. He'll have a trial by jury, of which I hope some of your good folks will be a part of. And if that sucker is found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, we ain't gonna put him in no penthouse prison suite fer 20 years while the taxpayers foot the bill for his innernet, satalite TV, and air condition.
Naw, that trash is gonna git 30 days max before his sentence is carried out.

If he's caught in the act of a level three crime, like rapin a kid, murderin innocent civilians or beatin up on old folks and he gets ventilated tryin to fight the cops, there ain't gonna be no violent protests tearin up peoples livelyhood and such.
And if some of his ignorant numbnuts family tries suing the police fer puttin down the rabid mutt, we might give a tely-vision show for "Who wants to be a comedian" but that's about all they gonna get.

Now if that's a problem tell me it is right now, and we'll take our ball and go home. If not, then I reckon we gonna get along just fine."

Wanting to ease any potential tensions that might arise from Bubbas passionate words, Earnest adds in with a chuckle.

"From the sounds of it boys, we might have already .....had the displeasure of encountering some of your french gang members at a little roadside bar a ways back.
It didn't turn out to be a big deal, but it's a place your police force might want to look into. Speaking of which, I'm not sure what kind of police presence you have out that far, but if it helps any we'd be happy to set up a satellite station on the outer perimeter of our wall for your departments needs."

Taking another drag on the cigar he holds it between his thumb and two fingers and looks at it closely. "This here is fine tobacco Captain, are these produced here?"

[Bubba Reb]

(((OOC Edited as requested.

Bubba would be open to trade for sure. Don't mistake the Bubba Rebians tendency to be overly suspicious as a shutdown to possible Interaction. Its just a quirk to add to their eccentricities. I very rarely will RP a shutdown to interaction with another player.

[Vangaziland]

OOC: The story is going great! It's still open for others to jump into as well... And with our other RP coming up, I'm sure we can bring in new writers who can add to our story.

I see Wrexwic as my long term project. So with that, this RP is a whole nation where people can show up and help shape it with a little of their influence. Any creative writer would jump at the chance. At least I would hope so, because I want their input in helping to shape my nation's culture. That's a cool factbook paragraph....

This RP has just started!

Kheeriin, feel free to let your character wander around off camp if you want. I don't want you to feel like you have to train every cop through RP. But I do like reading the kinds of posts you have put so far! Cool camp setup too.

I'm working on my next post... It'll probably end up with the Wrexish officers splitting ways with the Bubba Rebians for now, just so we can both build more background stuff. I tried to have that truck show up in case you wanted to buy his M-16s and so you could have a character to interact with.

As Wrexwic I'll get involved and build onto you guys' plots.. So this is an interactive world. Not just a collection of stories... One story.

[Kheeriin]

A pure silver Bankhar Bataar galloped towards the "Bubba Rebians" and Wrexes with the speed of a grayhound. Her kevlar vest had KFH, the acronym for the Kheerish Foreign Horde, velcroed to both the port and starboard sides. Tied to her neck was a parchment letter and a ballpoint pen; both bounced back and forth like a broken pendelum. Each step moved the dog meters and meters closer to the VIPs. Usuall they would of sent a van to pick them up, but the Sheriff thought Les Cassuers would try to bomb the van, (leading to Kheeriin spending millions of dollars starting a peace-keeping mission.)
When the Bankhar Bataar reached the Wrexes and the Rebians, she shook the note and pen out of her collar. The note landed face up with the pen barely touching the bottom corner. The dog gave a bark as loud as an artillary cannon to get their attention. The note was short, but contained important information.

Unofficial Ambassadors of Buuba Reb's Dictatorship and The Protectorate of Wrexwic

Sheriff Lincoln Nottingham would like you to come to Camp Khan as soon as possible to discuss the majority, if not all, of these topics;

• Firearms and Uniforms Purchasing
• Embassy Exchanges
• Les Cassuers
• The Bubba Rebian Settlement
• Operation Trainee
• Trade Agreements

Is an Ambassador from Bubba Reb's Dictatorship going to be present?
[] Yes [] No
Is an Ambassador from The Protectorate of Wrexwic going to be present?
[] Yes [] No

The dog looks directly at Bubba Reb, waiting for him first to pick up the pen and check off one of the boxes.

[Bubba Reb]

(((OOC This is awesome! I have a Great Pyrenees dog IRL and the Pyr and tibetan mastiff are my favorite dogs of all time! You have just introduced me to another incredibly smart gentle giant that I've never heard of. I just love learning about a new "big ol goofy furball" END OOC)))

When Earnests head snapped around at the sight of the miniature horse that was bounding in their direction, it's tongue slapping in the wind and a big goofy grin that only a dog can acquire, he involuntarily took a step back. Noticing his partners movement Bubbas attention was drawn to the beast.

Bubba got such a huge Smile at the sight of the monstrous animal that if Earnest had been looking, he'd have said Bubba had a grin wrapped all the way around his head.
Earnest would have surely thought his buddy had lost all his marbles. When a dog the size of a house is galloping down on you, he figured the smart reaction would be to get the heck out of dodge. But then, Bubba was known for doing things that other folks thought was down right whacky. He had to admit though, often times the crazy rasckal had a method to his madness. Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe Bubba saw something in the hairy beast that he couldn't. He did have all those big ol black and white mutts back at home. Newfoundland and Pyrenees Mountain dogs if he remembered right.

Bubba had a big soft spot for dogs. Real dogs anyway, not those little rats that yap their fool heads off everytime the wind blows. So when he saw the silver mountain of fur bounding his direction he could quickly recognize the happy look of a good working dog doing her job.

Standing tall and relaxed Bubba stepped in front of his nervous friend so the dog would focus on himself instead. Hands casually by his side Bubba pretended to ignore the dog as it ran to meet him. As soon as the elegant animal gave her announcing bark Bubba looked down and started praising the dog like a long lost friend.

Noticing the pen and paper that the dog had so cleverly delivered, Bubba couldn't hide his respect at the dogs intelligence and its trainers skill.

Pen in hand he shows the note to his companions. "Now how in the heck do ya answer a question like that?" He asks no one in particular while checking the box labled 'yes'. "Naw, I ain't sendin no ambassador up there, but yeah, me and ol Big Earnie here is goin to scoot on up there our own selves. All these foreign folks and their ambassadors." He musses with a shake of his head. "I like to look a feller in the eyes. See what's rattlin around in there behind em. Sure beats sittin up in some ol ivory tower powderin yer wig and polishin yer toenails while somebody else runs yer bidness."

Handing the items to the Wrexian Captain, Bubba squats down to allow the giant dog to sniff him and starts scratching him on his chest.

"How bout y'all Cap? You got time to spare?

[Wrexwic]

As Bubba mentioned a trial, all of the Wrexish soldiers immediately broke out in deep belly laughter. Capt. Kruntz literally held both hands around his stomach. He even had to make a sudden movement to stop his slung M4 from sliding off his shoulder.

"Wrexwic is not the place where trials apply to criminals like that. If the government would hear about some of those crimes, they would put a bounty out to us. We would send some of our guys out, lock them up for safety, investigate and if there is enough evidence.... They get locked up."

What he did not mention was that the nation's elite were the only ones who could really afford the overpriced lawyers. There was a very complex economic system in play here. After the depression, the Oligarchical system of families that ran the economy clung onto as much wealth and control as they could.

The nation was run with good intentions and decency in regard to diplomacy... But the system was still recovering. This aid package should help bridge the gap.

The other two militiamen became distracted by the distant sound of the radio, barely audible through the open door. They walked right back closer to the door to listen. Soon after very impressive canine showed up.

Kruntz watched the animal as a military leader and immediately starting thinking of the capabilities of such an animal. It was just good knowing that these dogs were around. From some of the paperwork that had gone around before the foreigners showed up, Kruntz remembered that there were many, many of these dogs right there at that camp.

They weren't something he would trade for. But he saw them as powerful allies. And he realized he was surrounded by them. Bubba's talk interrupted his thoughts.

His head snapped back from the dog and quickly to Bubba, as if startled. "Oh yeah I'm going over there... I can radio in all kinds of things from throughout this area... Let's see what's going on in there."

Kruntz took a smooth pull from his cigar and reached for a small radio on his tactical vest. It was called an MBITR and was basically a secure walkie talkie. He pressed the button down without lifting the radio from his vest and said, "Gate Guard this is Six... Send one guy to the convoy to escort me to Camp Khan."

When a transmission comes on a military radio, the first thing you hear is a loud buzz and then a crystal clear beep. And it comes together in one sound, which echoes off every radio in earshot. So the sound is totally immersive...

*mmmmBEEP* "This is gate guard, Roger."

"Mind if I catch a ride with you guys? Might as well save the gas." Kruntz said that just by chance, but it also showed the reality that the militia did not have unlimited gas or other resources. Everything here was conserved, utilized.

Pollution was a problem in other parts of the rural provinces. The reason the Bubba Rebians were sent to this land was that it was the last available bit of pristine wilderness in the region. It was a vast area. The Vannish helicopters first flew over a grove of tall trees that stretched for miles when it first landed in Wrexwic. That path of trees twisted Southwest and led to that river. The grove curved around the landscape of highway roads, tall trees, occasional houses and red soil. Camp Khan, The Bubba Rebian Settlement and two other small, rustic villages were located in this expanse.

[Bubba Reb]

"Aww shoot fire ol son! Ya dang straight you can ride with us! That'll give us time to go over a little contraption I was wantin to jaw with ya about. Step on up here to this rig and we'll go over it some. Earnest can drive that ol rattletrap tin can while you an me ride in the big rig."

Walking over to the truck Bubba climbs in and holds the door for the Captain. They step through the cab to the rear sleeper compartment that has been converted into a small mobil office. Bubba pulls a device from a cabinet door. It looks like a large glass jar, with wires wrapped around a plastic rod going all the way to the bottom of the jar. The wires are connected to terminals sealed onto the outside of the lid. There are two surgical tubes comming off nipples on the lid.

"See this doohicky here? This here is a nitrogen generator. You put water in the jar, run power to the sucker, and the dadblasted thing starts generatin nitrogen! That ol contraption that Ernies drivin? Its runnin one of these gizmos right now. Ya hook it up to yer intake see? And all that nitrogen bein produced, gets burned right along wit yer fuel.
O'course what that does is, it provides enough combustible gasses to the engine for that sucker to run like a scalded dog, without burnin up nearly as much fuel.
Now these suckers can be tweaked, have a water system run to automatically refill when it gets low, custom sized, all kinda stuff. But the point is, you double yer drivin distance on a tank of go juice with these things. We've got em on a lot of our equipment Back home and here in the little campsite we got goin up.
I figure with such long travel betwixt fuel up joints around here, it might help the local military and law dawgs to have these things to put on yer rides. We got a buncha other redneck engineerin we can share with ya if you want to know about it. Like brewin up yer own white lightnin, and convertin your vehicles to run on the alcohol yer still makes.

Thats some of the ways we got our country indipendent from foreign oil. We just make our own hooch! Now not everything can run off it. But it'll let you save your expensive fuel for the stuff ya got that cain't run off it. We also run stuff like big ol generators off of gassifiers. Them suckers dont need any fuel but wood, or maybe bamboo to run. You can run trains off of em too.

We plan to do that here, but we'd rather train your folks to run the trains, help em get set up good, then when profits start showin, they can buy more materials to expand the railroad bidness ya see? We'll be partners in it, if that sounds like a winner to yall that is?"

[Wrexwic]

They got to the vehicles as Bubba finished speaking.

"I would love to. Thing is... I'm just a militiaman." He ashed the cigar, took out a clip and snipped the burnt end before quickly stashing the rest it in a small case. Even though he was a Captain, that only carried so much pull. "I could work with some others to get the materials for that, bolts and such.... I'll have to really make some phone calls before I can say anything for sure though.."

The Wrexish militia was casual and relaxed in appearance, but every major component of the old engine would have to be categorized and signed over from officer to officer until each part made its way into storage. There would have to be meetings upon meetings before it even got to that. And the new engines would have to also be categorized in such a way. It was all a complex system to keep accountability for equipment on paper..... Well, on computer.

"But let's see what they have at Camp Khan!" His voice carried excitement. "We do have a lot of surplus though."

Just before they got in, two Militia up-armored Humvee 4x4s rolled past the outpost towards Camp Khan. Through the small, thick windows, one could briefly see Vannish Naval fatigues.

Soon Capt. Kruntz and his guard found space in the convoy.. The whole time he had pretended not to notice it's impressive and intimidating style. Vehicles like this would put on quite a show of force to 'Les Cassuers'.

The other gate guard stood by to help guide the vehicles out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.

[Bubba Reb]

(((OOC I didn't drop the ball here did I?
I assumed that since everyone was in the traveling convoy that the next step would be from the Sherrifs dept encampment.)))

[Vangaziland]

[OOC: *edit: so I'm starting this up again. Feel free to start posting hits and firefights. The Consiglierie is third in control. Someone can get the second in command, the Underboss. And then we can do a big op one day to get the top gun. The timeline is open now. You ca n pick up where you are two weeks from now, or if you really had a good reason, you could skip even farther ahead.]

[Vangaziland]

Two Weeks After the Last Post
1945 hours, Rixley Town, Alainha Province, Wrexwic

A black, late model Dodge minivan sat parked next to a three story building. It had driven there hours ago. Four men, dressed in Jeans and Sweatshirts got out of it. One man carried what looked like a guitar case. Each man had medium sized backpacks. Another person stayed in the driver's seat, eyes on the road.

This building was a library, the only one in Alainha province. Somehow, the men got access to this building after hours. They must have picked up a key somewhere.

Overhead, a grey 'civilian' small Cessna flew in wide circles around the area.

The landscape within view of the library's top floor had a few rolling hills, several two or three story buildings and many stretches of road.

The situation is that those men are not just four random guys. That Cessna is no random private pilot.
----------
850 meters away

A Mustang Convertible drove along a stretch of road. It passed a few rolling hills, it darted between a short buildings.

Inside the car was Buddy LaFarve, one of the top Casseurs in Alainha Province. He was acting Consigliere/Part Time Capo for the organization.

Right now, 80's music blasted from the car's stereo. There were a few other vehicles on the road and people on the streets.

I GOT THE POW-ER!, the song rang out. Little did the occupants know, it truely was getting, getting, getting kind of hectic.

The bass and the loud beats drowned out the snap sound as the head of the man in the passenger's seat vanished into a pink flume that flew back and spilled all over the back of the convertible. For all the pain and terror and manipulation of the islanders he caused, he had finally been compensated properly.

The driver noticed the flash and freaked out. He slammed on the brakes and threw the car in reverse, jerking the wheel, hoping to head back for cover. He noticed the shot came after they had made a right turn, straight towards several three story buildings.

He was in the open. The next shot hit the windshield and into the middle of the car. The thump that went through the rear seat and out the trunk clanged over the bass and treble.

I GOT THE POWER!, the song sang again.

The next shot hit the driver dead in the back as he tried to escape. He was one of the top Casseur soldiers, with major ties to the crime in this area. The car veered off to the right, slamming into a guardrail and flipping over on its side, leaving a tangled mess where two bad men once enjoyed themselves.

The little plane flew directly over the accident, it's sole engine buzzing happily in the sky above.
----------
In The Cessna

"Voltron November, this is WideEye... That is an afirm on mission. BDA; two casualties confirmed with video, over."

The voice of a Vannish soldier crackled on the radio. "Roger WildEye... Hey this is Voltron November. We are egressing from OP, time now.. Over."

The pilot could see the whole landscape. Right now he saw the black minivan pulling away from the library.

"Affirm and acknowledged, your route is clear."

The Cessna was an Actually a highly advanced, Electronic Warfare plane from the Wrexish Air Force. Many other nations would put such a platform on a drone. But the disguise of being a private plane could be a stealthy surprise for enemies like Les Casseurs.

The plane had the hardware needed to tap into cell phones or other electronic systems. It was top secret. Les Casseurs after all, were Wrexish citizens. The public might freak out if they knew the government was using EW planes on its own citizens.

But it was for a good cause and the safety of the nation.

It didn't take long for the radio in the plane to track several frantic phone calls between the French Syndicate's leaders.

From the sounds of some of the calls, the Vannish sniper had stirred the hornet's nest. But hornets are nothing compared to a lion with a can of bug spray.

[Bubba Reb]

"But Bubba, you said yourself that those Cartel thugs are no joke, and you're just going to waltz right down the street and take them out on their own turf?
Those men are actually pretty good, and they know it!"

"Yep, they do know it Ernie! They also know that nobody would be dumb enough to hit em right smack dab in tha middle o the evenin, in broad daylight, at they own headquarters, on main street of thugville Wrexwikilicky!"

Bubba grins at his old pal, a very mischievous glint in his eyes.

"And that's exactly why we's gonna do just that!"


Earnest pauses before asking. Afterall, he is no well trained military stratagist. He is an ex pro wrestler, and a successfull business man, so for the life of him, he can't figure out what Bubba has up his sleeve. But Earnest has seen that sneaky look in his old friends eyes before, and he knew it mean that things were about to get real interesting.

"So..... I guess we're dumb enough to do it?

Bubba gives his friend a knowing look, "dumb like a fox bud, dumb like a fox.
See, them ol boys been on high alert now for weeks. And we all on purpose like, aint done a thang to em. Now, the human body can only take so much of that before its just starts to lose focus and the mind starts tryin to wander.

The adrenaline rush they had after the hit them Vangazi boys put on em, will have worn off about now, and no matter how much they try not to, they gonna be fightin their own minds just to stay sharp.
And that's just the way we like em."

-------------------------------

The old, faded green john deer tractor squeeled and creaked its way down main street. The tired diesel engine clattered under the load as it pulled the long wagon stacked so high with hay straw that it seemed it would topple over at every bend and curve in the road.

Inside the french bistro that served as a front operation for the cartels criminal headquarters, a man sat near the head of the table, fork in hand, with a dinner roll ready to stuff into his mouth. The heavily built mans big ham fists were covered in scars from years of his chosen hobby. Pierre "The hammer" Tredeu loved to hammer people to death with his fists. Especially women, he loved to make them beg for mercy before pounding his fists into their skull until they died from trauma enduced seizure. He had risen to the boss mans second goon in charge by sheer intimidation and force, not by any skill or acceptional intelligence. He was furious over the deaths of his two men at the hands of a sniper of unknown origin.
He had his suspicions on who was behind it, though he had nothing real to go on. The crime syndicate had set up base here, in Wrexwic because the remote territory lacked the strong hand of order that militaries like Vangaziland wielded. This was supposed to be their turf! And now, here he was, more irritable than usual for even him, due to sleepless nights and the rigors of wondering where the next hit would come from.

Hearing the noise from outside, he glares at the two guards near the doorway that opened into the bistro. Pointing with an upraised fork the two guards nodded and left to check up on the source of the noise. As they leave, Pierre is destracted by the whimpering moans of the crumpled body in the rear corner if the room. Turning to the source he stares with evil hatred at the battered woman who is beginning to regain consciousness. Her swollen and bloodied lips quiver as her left eye struggles to flutter open. With a snarl he turns to a guard behind his chair.

"Geet de whore out ov'a me sight! Keel her, throw her out, I don keere. Just shut'a her up zo I can eeet een peaze." He says with a wave of his hand as he spews bits of food from his teeth.

The two guards sent to investigate the noise were just about sick and tired of jumping up everytime Pierre thought he heard a frog fart. He'd been this way ever since the sniper ambush, and his men were getting weary of his paranoia.
And to them, it was obviously paranoia, because several weeks had gone by with absolutely nothing. No threat at all, not even so much as a bee sting. They figured it was becoming clear that the ambush was an isolated event. It sure wasn't like the men hadn't made any enemies.
Exiting the building the two thugs were relieved to finally see some kind of action. Especially this kind of action. Both men grew big leacherous smiles at what they saw was the source of the noise. Or rather, when they saw what was riding on the source.

Sitting at the wheel was a dark skinned young man with an afro the size of a beach ball. He wore a bright orange shirt that said "make love, not war' in dirty white letters. His frayed bell bottomed jeans dangled loosely over the sandals he wore on his feet.

The nineteen year old girl sitting next to him sported a tie dyed halter top and was clearly wearing no bra as the cool evening air swept by them. Her way too short "Daisy Dukes" were tight enough that if she'd had a quarter in her pocket, one could almost tell in a glance if it were heads or tails.
Her bleached blond hair looked almost white next to her well tanned skin as she sat there smacking her gum and examining her multi colored nails.

The drivers eyes were squinted and his mouth in a slackjawed grin as the girl ran her hand up and down his inner thigh.

The two guards slung their MP5s over their back, stepped into the street and held up their hands to stop the odd couple.


((( Part Two comming later tonight.)))

[Bubba Reb]

"Baaaby.. baby. BABY!" The girls voice rises in volume and intensity as she raises her mans attention to what lies ahead.
"You gonna run over them two.... strong handsome men baby?" She says while staring at them with a lustfull look in her eye.

Comming back to his senses the young man frantically pulls levers and pumps pedals in a grinding of gears before finally getting the dilapidated old tractor and wagon to a stop.
He finally manages to bring it to a halt with only four feet to spare before hitting the human road blocks.

Leaning forward he squints harder, looking at the two men as if they were the tooth fairy twins that had just appeared out of nowhere.

"Yo yo brutha maaan! Where you come from?" He says while bobbing his head to the beat of music that exists only in his own head. He holds up a fist full of cash and says, "yo bruh, I need some smoke! You dig?"


Meanwhile the scantily clad girl has locked eyes with the guard on her side. She licks her bright red lips slowly, then flashes him a teasing smile.

Both guards start to approach, intent on snatching the money and the girl, then killing the boy.

Seeing him draw near, the girl puckers up her lips and leans forward, giving the very happy guard a view that nearly causes his eyes to pop. By leaning forward, the tractor drivers balance is thrown off and he neatly topples over backward, arms flailing wildly.

Suddenly the guard lunges forward to snatch the money before it's flung into the wind. At the same time his partner reaches out to the girls awaiting embrace.

Which is exactly what the couple has been waiting for.

With a vicious headbutt the girl slams her forehead into the guards nose, hearing bone and cartilage shatter. The sudden move and shock of blinding pain stuns the man long enough for her to deliver a full force punch to his adams apple. His larynx now crushed, the guard falls backward, gurgling his last dying breath.
Looking over to see that the now fully alert young man has succesfully sent shards of broken bone up into the other guards brain with a savage, upward heel kick to his nose, the girl shoves the tractor into gear and pins the pedal to the floor.

Feeling the forward lurch of the wagon, the SEAL team hidden under the carefully stacked bales of hay sets phase two into action. With a roar, the high powered tactical ATV lunges forward, bursting through the wall of hay bundles and becoming airborn before landing on the blacktop with a screech of its churning tires. The driver does a quick U-turn while the SEAL straped onto the platform behind him draws a bead on the bistro with the M240 machine gun mounted to the ATVs frame. Six team members spill out behind them, flanking out in both directions to follow the tractor into the building.

Just before the tractor barrels into the plate glass windows of the diner, sending empty tables and chairs flying in a chaotic spray of glass and splintered wood, the couple leap from the tractor to the ground. The young male specialist reaches up and jerks the afro wig from off his head, then retrieves the dead guards weapons. After the tractor comes to a shuddering halt halfway into the room occupied by the cartels sub boss, the team members flood in through every avaliable opening, poping the stunned remaing guards like fish in a barrel.

His meal interupted and the big dining room table nearly pinning him to the wall, the sub boss frantically reaches for a weapon.

Quickly striding up to him, the girl smashes him in the mouth with the barrel of her captured MP5, breaking off teeth and filling his mouth with blood. With her support hand she grasps his wrist that is now desperately clutching at his backup handgun. With a quick sharp twist in a downward motion she snaps it like a twig.

Leaning hard on the gun shoved into his devistated mouth, she asks him a question. "Your boss, where is he? You have three seconds to tell me or I paint the walls with the inside of your skull."

Mumbling around the guns muzzle, the terrified sub boss tells her that the Boss left moments ago for the neighboring town. As the SEAL team finishes mopping up all of the remaining resistance, and confirms the absence if their primary target, the tractors former driver walks in supporting the woman who had been beaten beyond recognition.

"All clear hot lips." He says to the girl holding the sub boss on the end of her gun. He then reaches for the comm device provided him by one of the SEAL team members.

"Woodstock to base, operation Gomer Pyle is a failure. Surprise, surprise was executed flawlessly, But it looks like the boss man skipped out before we arrived. We have his second in custody. Hot lips and team are unharmed. We have one injured civilian, over."

"Copy that woodstock, good job. Chopper is inbound. Wrap up the packages and bring em on in. Base out."

Seeing the battered woman, "hot lips" gives the submachine guns barrel a savage twist.

"Oh you like beating on women huh big boy?
Well beat on this!" She says, slamming her knee into the mans groin with all the force she can muster. The mans mouth is cut severely as the barrel is ripped out by his involuntary reaction to the crushing blow. She follows his downward motion by slamming his face into the concrete floor, then landing with all of her weight on her knee into his back.

"Oops.... sorry, I slipped." She says with a snarl before jerking his arms violently behind him to be ziptied secure.

With the sound of the incomming chopper the crew exits the building to join the ATV that has secured the LZ.


-------------------------------------------


"Incoming message from Bubba Reb for Captain Kruntz, Wrexwic Militia." The operator says when the call is picked up. Hearing the Captain answer, Bubba gives him the news.


"Hey pardnah! Don't say I aint never give ya nothin, cause we got a present fer ya. It's not in the best o shape I'll admit, the gal we sent fer him ah..... "accidentally" dropped him on his head.

A few times.

But you can still question the piece of crap if ya want. Even if he will be squeekin in a real high pitched voice fer a while. Serves him right, after what he done to that poor gal we rescued from that worthless piece of maggot puke. She's hospitalized right now, and in stable condition. Docs say you can move her tommorow if ya want. But it'd be best to leave her here fer a week or two. The poor gal looks like she's one of your citizens, but she aint well enough to ask any questions of her quite yet, so we aint really sure who she is.

We got intell sayin that the head of this snake is most likely gone dark, but we reckon that the rat is in a little border town north of where we picked up ol hammered head here.

Well, this filth aint worth no more than a flea turd on a maggot infested monkeys butt to us, so yall figure out if you want him, or if you'd rather we just turn him into fertilizer. It don't make no nevermind to me. Just make up yer mind quick like bud, cause I ain't wastin no food or resources on a slug like him.
We can send you boys a chopper if helps any."

[Wrexwic]

Kruntz had listened to the call with a pleased look on his face. Over the past few days, he really grew to appreciate the Rebians and their pioneer effort. Now it sounded like they had captured the number two man in Les Casseurs.

Not long before that, the number three man had been handled by the Vannish. Capt. Kruntz spoke up on the phone.

"I've tracked the general location of your operation today. Would you believe, that lowlife will be picked up by cadets of the Kheerish trained Alainha Provincial Police Department? He will be the first person arrested by the APPD..."

Kruntz spelled out the acronym of the new police force.

"I personally would love to end that guy's misery, but he will be valuable alive. I think a public trial will do a lot to dissuade citizens from joining local gangs. It should also build confidence in both the foreign militaries and especially in your Rebian settlers."

As the phone call was happening, Wrexish police cars were already speeding to the approximate location of the mission.

"Listen for the sirens and turn him over to the police. Meanwhile, I am sending two companies of militiamen to cordon off the Northern town. My guys will block off the roads, build checkpoints and keep an eye on anyone who comes in or out of that town. I'm also getting the Vannish involved. That Northern town is going to be a major objective. Usually our patrols take fire when we get too deep into that town. The number one won't go down without a fight. So we will increase checkpoints and plan, gather resources and mentally prepare ourselves for the most dangerous, violent operation in the recent history of Wrexwic. I might even have to call the government's Regular Army."

The phone call continued, patching up the details needed to transfer the captive to the hands of APPD officers.

As the call came in, the enlisted radioman at the Operations Center reported the event to the Vannish commander.

It turns out Vannish officer got in touch with the Wrexish Air Force. As a result, the Wrexish government committed to establish a 24/7 combat air patrol on the northern Alainhan town called Tremooty.

This town was in the hills, rugged country where general stores sat on desolate cliffs. It was urban and developed in some places with winding roads and lots of places to hide things. With the loss of the second and third man, many of Les Casseurs fell back to Tremooty and dug in for one big fight.

This left a lot of the gang's businesses to close. Their finances were taking a big hit.

By the time the phone call ended, a pair of F-14 Tomcat fighters were circling high above Tremooty. Tomcats were usually seen as Naval Aircraft but the Wrexish Air Force chose to purchase many surplus F-14s as other nations phased them out. They were armed with plenty of Air-To-Ground munitions, along with a few sidewinders and such.

In a few hours, the might of many of the coalition forces would put the clasp on Les Casseurs at Tremooty. And with the APPD and Rebians interrogating him, the force might learn exactly where to go to find the number one target in all of Wrexwic.

The Vannish Naval humanitarian force went on high alert increasing security at their settlement, as the Kheerish forces at did at Camp Khan.

[Bubba Reb]

Bubba signalled silently to his SEAL team. Like ghosts the men split up, and dissapeared into the night. Looking up the cliff face, Bubba reached into a pocket and rubbed the black chalk onto his finger tips. Every bit of the gear and weapons he had was blacked out, or covered in soft neoprene tape to prevent even the slightest rattle, clink or whisper of noise. This mission brought stealth to a whole new level, a level he and his elite team had been to many times over the years. Gripping the natural crevices and cracks in the face cliff, Bubba began his ascent.

Just before reaching the top, he paused to slow his breath. While listening for any sound of activity, he clung to the jagged rock four stories above the stream he and his men had infiltrated in on. Having sufficently slowed his heart beat from the rigors of the stealthy climb, and satisfied there was no sign of life from the ridge above, he ever so slowly raised his head to peer over the edge. He made sure that the scraggly bush growing stubornly on the cliffs edge concealed his movement and the moons light did not silouete his outline, he pulled himself over the ledge, then waited silent as a stone, listening for movement. His eyes and senses had grown so accustomed to the pale moonlight and the still sounds of the forest, that he hardly needed the night vision system he now utilized.

Slowly, the scene unfolded before him. The French gangs hastily erected mobil camp site began to take shape. Thirty yards from the cliffs edge were the remains of a campfire, its embers glowing red as the last of the dying flames licked its edges. A bald broad shouldered man with tatoos covering his skull sat slumped before the fire, having dozed off while staring into the mesmerising flames. Bubba was carefull not to fall for the same rookie mistake, he knew that only a greenhorn would look into the flames of a fire while in a potentially hostile territory. Such a move would cause night blindness, and as the heavily muscled shirtless man now proved, could lull one to sleep with little effort. Remaining still, Bubba continues to take in his surroundings. It's a good thing too, as he spots a dark shape in his peripheral vision leaning against a tree with his back to the cliff. The sentry was busy watching the perimiter to the left, which meant there was likely to be at least one more on the right. Just as suspected, the encampment of men felt safe with the cliff to their backs. They likely made the mistake of assuming that if they couldnt scale it quietly enough to attack, no one else could either. Bubba resisted a smile at the thought, it was no mistake that he had chosen this difficult route. It was also no mistake that they had chosen to launch their mission at zero three hundred hours when the untrained human body finds it most difficult to resist the embrace of slumber.

Moving through the terrain with the skill of a jungle cat, he came up behind the sentry without a noise. At the exact same moment, both hands reach around the tree. The skinning knife in his right hand slices through the mans throat nearly to the bone. As the sticky red blood flows over the blade and down to his elbow, his left hand is clamped around the mans mouth and nose in a steel grip, preventing even the slightest escape of noise. As the dying mans nerves relax, Bubba moves on to the next victim. He comes upon three men lying beside one another, their blankets shielding them from the dampness of the night as they sleep. Dispatching one man as he did the first, bubba skips the second in line. He doesnt recognize the face from the surveilence recon gathered over the previous weeks, and even though he is reasonably certain the man is still a gang member, he still chooses to move on to the third. Pulling a syringe from his pouch, Bubba clamps a hand over the mans mouth and nose, and injects the contents into his neck. The niny needle delivers its deadly fluid, leaving a mark only a carefull autopsy would reveal. Moving through the camp, he continues this seemingly random pattern, leaving some alive and snoring happily away, while dispatching others who often lay right beside them.

Finally approaching the man at the fire, Bubba takes position behind him, carefull to always stay within the shadows cast by the brutes sleeping body. Assuring he has not yet been discovered, he reaches around the mans head. Just as before he quiets the man as he injects the syrum into his neck, after a few brief moments when the deadly toxin has rushed to the mans brain and first paralyzes the body, then ends the mans nervous functions forever. Feeling the life leave from the man, Bubba grimaces in disgust at his next move. He knows that the psychological effects on the encampment will shake the gangs members to their core, but that doesnt make him hate this task any less. He takes a sharpened spoon from his pouch, and swiftly removes the mans eyes from their sockets. On the way out he will lay them on some unfortunate mans lap, to be discovered upon waking. Stealthily retreating back the way he came, Bubba reaches the cliff, then circles around to the second guard. Bubba had chosen to avoid the third sentry at the front position of the camp. He wanted one left alive just to cause more mystery and confusion among the gang. Reaching the second guard on the right flank he removes the final syringe. This is loaded with only the paralytic compound, and lacks the lethal ingredient.
As the mans body looses all ability to consiously function, Bubba swiftly runs his blade around the mans skull. Pulling steadily at the mans hair, he peels the scalp from his head. The mans blood runs over his face and neck and within seconds he is covered in his own blood.

Swiftly turning on his moccasin clad feet, he retreats to the cliff, leaving no sign of human tracks on the dirt. Knowing that the man will begin to recover from the effects of the drug any moment, and no doubt begin screaming at the pain and horror of loosing his scalp before passing out from blood loss, Bubba swiftly rapels down the cliff and gathers his gear behind him. He is happy to see that all of his men have returned from their similar objectives.

He whispers quietly, "we'd better scoot. Them boys are about to wake up to a nightmare any second"

As the men leave the area they hear a blood curdling scream from the clifftop encampment.

The men that were left alive become suddenly alert as the terrifying scream jolts them awake. Comming out of the bushes is a vision many of them had only seen in their darkest night terrors. His white skull gleaming in the moonlight, and bright red blood covering every inch of his face and shirt, the sentry runs, stumbling toward the campfire. His weakening body slams into the eyeless corpse and he topples into the coals. The embers suddenly catch flame on his pants, casting vivid shadows all around the camp as the fires light brings the scene into focus. The bald tatooed brute lies on his back, arms outstretched, his empty sockets staring into the night sky. As the gang members rouse in confusion and chaos, they begin finding their fellow thugs, who have been left with bright red slashes in their necks, their lifes blood drained into the sand. Others are found who show no sign of what has stolen their lives from them, except their cold pale lifeless bodies lying where they slept. Some sit rocking back and forth in shock, surrounded by their dead, men who moments before had been visited by an unknown death within mere inches of the sleeping survivors.

With a grin one of the SEAL teamates looks at Bubba, his native Indian features unmistakeable even under the camoflague paint. He leans his head back and cuts loose with a scream that sounds so close to the genuine cry of a panther in full attack that it sends shivers up and down Bubbas spine.


Back at camp, the SEAL team listens to the incomming intell as the surveilance floods the airwaves. Men are heard giving reports with haunting sobs as they describe soulless beasts that kill leaving no trace. Reports of terrified men running off into the night moaning about ghosts and spirits that steal mens eyes and toungues are heard. The men look at each other in satisfaction of a gruesome job well done. They know that it will be a long time before the gangs fighting men get any restfull sleep. The rumors and speculations will likely spread, and keep the gang on the very ragged edge of their frazzled and disturbed minds.

"Well boys..." Bubba says quietly. "they done terrorised the innocent folks of this country long enough. it's about time they saw what real fear was like themselves. Rest up men, the real fightin starts soon. we get ta corner that scumbag that slipped his noose last time. I recon that with the other forces invloved and the net they got around the town, he aint gettin out of it this time."

[Wrexwic]

Top Casseur Surrenders

Top French gangster, Arturo de Leon surrendered late at night to the Alianha Provincial Police Department. A series of brutal raids targeted at Les Casseurs leadership and businesses finally turned the tide and freed the province from the violent grip of the French criminals.

"The Militia and Goverment forces worked together to infiltrate the gang and systematically tear apart their command and control structure", said Captain Kruntz, Commander of the Militia Battalion responsible for Alainha Province.

A spokesman for the APPD mentioned dozens of gang members turning themselves in after the hits on several notable members. "de Leon will put on trial. He will be held accountable for what he has done to the province, by the province."

The Wrexish government has shown support for the militia and APPD and has claimed responsibility for the raids resulting in the death or capture of the top Casseurs, denying that the Vannish or any other military participated.

The Government still has allocated minor funds to the province. The Kheerish government, Bubba Rebian settlers and the Order of The Purple Cross have donated major funds and resources to rebuild the outlying areas of the province.

With the major threat of Les Casseurs out of the picture, aid can come to the largest city in the province, Tremooty. The APPD will make the town of 105,000 citizens over a non-dense, widespread area it's main priority.

Police Captain Charley Ward said, "The only gang we want to have take it's place is the APPD. And maybe the militia."

Several other gang members turned themselves in visibly shaken, disturbed and suicidal after surviving the government raids.

-Sarah Jacossen, Associated Press
-The Wrexwic Times
-

[Vangaziland]

It was 2030 hours or 8:30pm on the night following the News Reports of the Top Casseur's surrender. A convoy sped down the relatively empty highway coming from the Vannish base southeast near the coast, up to the hilly suburban city of Tremooty in the Northwestern edge of Alainha Province.


Convoys move in stages, called serials. The first serial was a Vannish group of four dark green, up armored Humvees and 2 older model DURO, up armored cargo trucks. They had strange looking antennas on top. The circular array of "fingers" was called the boomerang.

It was an antenna that calculated the trajectory of shots fired at it, a real help for convoy security. It was old, tested and true technology. There was also "the Duke", an Electromagnetic box that interrupted cell phone and Internet systems, preventing certain roadside devices from being triggered.

The militia had been donated these vehicles from the Government's Army after the Wrexish government signed a new deal for Vangaziland-made MOWAG Eagle V 4x4s. In a weird way, by ending up in Vannish hands, the trucks had gone full circle.

The early moon light painted the sky a deep dark blue, a crystal clear spring night. It wasn't a full moon, but it was close enough.

By this time, other convoys had left the original destination. Passers by waved at the trucks, especially since the trucks had tiny but bright Vannish flags painted on the rear doors. Some female fans of the Vannish military even waved, kissed or went further to show their support to the convoy as they passed it. Of course most soldiers were just surprised and didn't really pay them any mind.

That seemed to happen often on convoys.

Now the convoy turned up an off ramp. It had been a long drive since the trucks could barely reach 45 mph. The sailors in the Humvees were from the 35th, part of the Naval Unit's 900 personnel. Almost everyone of them was thrilled that Les Casseurs had been toppled by unreported units.

Now they could do their humanitarian work. Inside the two bigger trucks were a total of 115 doctors, nurses and general staff. They were going to set up a makeshift hospital/base at an abandoned high school. The Vannish military planned on moving 175 sailors here to help run and defend things. There would be dozens of civilian medical staff from various nations under the Purple Cross banner. Now the city that needed all this medical aid would get it.

Of course there was a hospital in Tremooty already, but many could not afford it. The Purple Cross and her member nations were the ones paying the bill this time.

The convoy made its way through the city streets. At one point, they passed a group of children hanging out at a park on the corner. As quickly as the vehicles drove by, a few fully inflated soccer balls were chucked from the passenger side windows of the first two Humvees.

It was standard practice to hand out trinkets like that to local children, who may be so inspired by this soccer ball that maybe one day they will become pros.... Or will at least think fondly of the Vannish Empire.

Hearts and Minds, now they could win hearts and minds.

The Humvees and trucks looked huge on the regular streets, such wide vehicles.. Many civilian cars had to pull over and let the convoy pass. Not everyone was happy to see the sailors in their Humvees, wearing their blueish, purple Navy fatigues. Many dirty looks were given.

After passing a large empty lot, absolutely covered in plastic bottles and trash, the former prestigious, private highschool came into focus.

There was a football field, covered in waist high tall grass. Above it was an announcer's tower! A place just begging to become a guard tower. The convoy pulled into the school's lot. There were three buildings, the central one was a long three story rectangle filled with a gym, offices, a cafeteria and a few storage rooms.

It was flanked by two, two story buildings containing mostly classrooms.

Slowly, the sailors and doctors stepped out of their vehicles. It had been a long drive. The next few arriving colonies would show up throughout the night and some might not leave until morning. The system of segmented convoys or serials was to prevent 50 trucks from blocking off the highway.

One NCOIC called the makeshift base FOB Hospital over the radio. The name seemed to stick.

There was a small shed next to the parking lot. It would probably be a good place for mechanics to post up. Two large garage style doors were closed, separated by a piece of wall. It once held a tractor and landscaping equipment. But for now two padlocks kept empty room secure.

All the classrooms were empty, the desks and other school supplies had long been sold and used either as firewood or in other schools.

The private schools of Wrexwic had long closed... Except for in the capital city.

Sailors started marching into the buildings, securing them and calling dibs on which soldiers would bunk together three or four to a classroom. Of course, the few officers brought teams with them so their choice of office could be claimed.

So far there were a few stragglers, each one seemed okay with the Vangazi.

[Bubba Reb]

It was all going well so far, several familes had shown up, a lot of children were running around, snow cones and cotton candy in hand. When the Bubba Rebian settlers had first started handing the treats out, the kids had been unsure to the point of being fearfull. But then one of the settlers children had waltzed in with a leash attatched to a dog bigger than she was. Its gleaming silver hued fur was just begging to be petted as the beast wagged it's tail exitedly and it's tongue lolled out in a lazy fashion. The girl had taken a big hunk of cotton candy, shoved a fistfull in her mouth, then giggled with glee as she opened her mouth wide to show the growing crowd of youngsters how it had dissapeared.
That had certainly gotten their attention. Then, as she held the mound of spun sugar out for the dog, the chidren erupted in laughter as the brute lapped at it with a big slobbery tongue, then looked at the suddenly smaller bunch of candy on confusion. That's all it took for them to want to try it too.

Earnest had chosen the poorest little town he could find near the settlement for this event. His people had dirven for miles around inviting people to come out and enjoy "Freedom Week", a celebration of the provinces freedom from gang oppression and torment. The rumors of the rednecks deeds had spread fast. After several encounters with local thugs and punks in the little villages nearby the Bubba Rebians encampment had led to their often violent demise, it had become clear to the locals that, strange as they were, the presence of these "rednecks" had certainly made the surrounding country seem safer.

At first the locals had been terrified when the settlers began doing business in their stores and resteraunts. They always came in very heavily armed, and drove the strangest and most fearsome vehicles. But they had always been polite, and shown respect to the locals, and the strange vehicles were shortly replaced with more traditional APCs, armored SUVs and such. They had gown to realize that these settlers were easy to make friends with, but would kill quicker than a coiled rattlesnake if they were attacked. So a decent number of people had shown up for this "freedom Week" celebration.

There was a huge white screen set up in the towns center, and the projector had begun to play the old Three Stooges videos Bubba had sent them from their home island. Before long, the audience had grown significantly and laughter could be heard for each slapstick move that Larry Curly and Moe dished out. Security was vey tight for this event, because they knew there were still a few isolated pockets of the drug cartel scattered about, and the last thing the settlers wanted was some form of attack on the civilians from the remaining criminal factions.

After the festivities were over, the dozens of bicycles, balls, and various other prizes were handed out, dinner was served. All the food was from the farming projects the settlers had developed and expanded to include some of the small towships closest to the encampment. Local wildlife had been prepared and cooked on huge pig cookers and served piping hot to the attendees.

Earnest and a few staff members sat down with the local communiy leaders and mayors, outlining plans to build schools, libraries and clinics in their towns. They insisted on feedback and involvement from the locals, ensuring them that it was thier homelands, and that the settlers were here to help them bring it to its greatest potential, together.

As Bubba had so eloquently stated, "Ain't no need to just give em ever'thang so's they can underappreciate it and get the notion that we is here to provide handouts fer life. Naw, if we can git em invested in the place theyselves, show em that success fer us means success fer them, then them folks will start to pitch in with a passion."

As he often was, Bubba was right on this one as well. The vangaziland troops had begun their "hearts and minds" campaign and the rednecks figured they could do the same thing with a "Brains 'n bellys" type of program. Big doublewide trailers were being shipped in for temporary schooling while the permanent schools were being built. Earnest was quite pleased to see the plans comming together. He smiled a big smile as a group of local kids ran by, giggling and laughing with the settlers children as they imitated the antics of the three men in the old black and white films.

"Yep, things are starting to turn around here." he thought as he wandered off to check in with the military Sgt in charge of security in his sector.

[Vangaziland]

It had been a few days since FOB Hospital had been established late one night. now security had been set. The football announcer's booth had become a guard tower, a 7.62 machine gun poking out from its window. Sailors regularly did PT in the recently mowed grass field.

Sometimes local kids would show up and play soccer or American Football with the sailors.

The weirdest thing started to happen with increasing regularity. A local accent was starting to form. Here in Southwest Wrexwic, among the red soil and here in the hills people started to share culture.

'How y'all doing?' was a common saying... As was 'Y'all take care now, ya hear?' Everyone wanted to be like the Bubba Rebians. And the Vannish encouraged it.

They pushed the term 'happier than a June bug in a tomato plant.' It was a saying that they too had picked up from a random Rebian. The kids were constantly talking about 'big ole bad Moe', after nightly screenings of the Three Stooges became a major hit.

Vannish Humanitarian sailors had spent the past few hours on a major clean up mission, helping to clean up the large field of trash they encountered. Locals showed up and had been cleaning alongside them.

Hippie doctors from the Purple Cross sang songs and even helped the locals plant seeds and young yearling trees OPC volunteers brought from Vangazi Christmas Tree nurseries. It would be a better fate for the poor trees, to grow and shelter this land, as opposed to being slaughtered for a ritual. Of course, the view was a little harsh on the tree farm industry.... But either way, it worked out for Wrexwic and the trees.

There was still crime. Sometimes there were fights and arguments. The Alianha Police department took over an old, abandoned shoe factory and set up a HQ, as well as other random little stations around town.

Their cars began to replace militia convoy patrols... Just in these few short days, the Wrexish had begun to feel free. Freedom Week had spread from the poorest suburb of Alainha, right to the heart of the Province's largest city, the second largest in Wrexwic.

But there was still a large separation between those in power, living in the capital city and these outlanders in Alainha...

[The United Oman]

Rather late as I am, I am still determined to help this community. With our new budget established I shall be heading over to the nation myself to greet these people and help.

I brushed past an armed guard on the naval ship of T.U.O. Savior, heading over to the railing. We had recently just departed and we only expect it to be a day or so to get there. The breeze blew my hair into my face and the cold made me shiver, just a little. The planes will be getting there first. We had set off with one aircraft carrier, 3 battleships, and one transport filled with supplies, peacekeepers, and doctors. We had also taken 3 cargo planes for drop off.

Our main goal is too help take care of any disease in the area, then in partnership with The United Oman Transportation we are going to try and establish a public transportation service. The last on our list is to get a nice housing development done. As long as it is ok with the government of course. These are the founding blocks we plan on laying down.

"Owen!" I heard the voice carry over from the far end of the deck.

I looked down to see Josh moving down towards me. When did he get here?

"I flew in to tell you something." he said with a gleam in his eyes.

"What is it?"

He walked over and kissed me.

It caught me off guard but hey

"What is it?"

"We got an extra one million dollars from Project Freedom."

"Thats awesome!"

He walked away leaving me to my thoughts to what will happen when I get there.

[Bubba Reb]

Earnest was quite pleased with the progress so far. They had just cut the ribbon for the grand opening of the "Alainha Peoples Market" headquarters. The building was now the largest in the little village. Of course, that wasn't really saying much, since the whole village was only a couple months old. It had sprung up as a way camp, much like the gold rush towns of old, as local residents had filtered in from the surrounding areas. They had heard about the food processing center located just outside the walls of the Rebian encampment and had been supplying the Rebian efforts with more help than they could have ever expected at the start of this endeavor. The small community garden had grown into a full blown agricultural business. The Rebians had been hand picking people from the hardest and smartes workers and promoting them to formen and even managers for some of the more educated locals.

A community college had been established using shipping crates modified for classrooms, and the locals were being taught everything from hybridization of plants for maximum growth, to business management and accounting. Already one promising family had taken the initiative after working on a well digging crew for the Rebians, and Earnest had approved the offer to sponser the local man and his family to start up their own franchise under the umbrella of the parent well drilling company. They had begun digging new wells in several surrounding impoverished villages, and installing the solar pumping stations modeled after those in the Rebian encampment.

With this new market headquarters now complete, they could move forward with phase three of their plan. There were already three steel buildings erected in nearby villages, that served as grocery stores stocked with fresh produce, eggs that had been layed by free range chickens just a day or two before, fresh meat from livestock that would never see growth hormones and chemicals introduced to taint their purity, and all manner of food that was being produced by local gardens as well as the main Rebian farms. This pattern would follow in villages and towns throughout the province.

Setting the ceremonial scissors down on the red tablecloth beside the podium, Earnest turned to greet the next person to be introduced.
The speakers squealed momentarily as he lowered the microphone a bit to far, and with an embarrassed grin he apologized to the large gathering of locals and Rebians, that were becomming increasingly difficult to tell apart.

"Sorry folks" he said with a grin, "would you believe me if I said I did that on purpose to make sure you were awake? No? Yeah, well I wouldn't either." He paused as the crowds laughter died down, then continued.
"This next gentleman I'd like to introduce is no stranger to most of you here. He has been instrumental in assisting us in making this day happen. When we asked you who was the person you would say is the best hunter in the land, who knows these forests better than any other, who knows the wildlife and their habits best. Overwhelmingly you answered with this mans name. It took us a little while to find him, but with your help we did!"

Turning to the local man he motions him forward and places a friendly arm accross his shoulder. Earnest introduces the man while leaving out the details of the situation they had found him in.

After days of following leads to the whereabouts of the homeless groups makeshift shanty town in the woods, Earnest and Bubba had finally found it.
the ramshackle little buildings looked as if a stiff wind would send them flying, but they were impressed to see that the place was kept very clean. There was no trash lying about like they had seen in the slums of the big cities of more "civilized" nations. And even though the homes were made up of leaking tarps, salvaged building materials, and everything from old car hoods to discarded decking lumber found in the inner city landfills where the affluent citizens dumped their trash, there was still a sense of order and care evident in their construction.

After meeting with the small gathering of people they began to get their stories. One by one they told of how they had come to this plight. One family had been evicted from a tennament building in the nations largest city. The buildings owner had been payed a hefty sum to lease the land to a corporate giant so they could build a strip mall. Another couple had been unable to afford their auto insurance for that month, and had suffered a minor auto accident when the bald tires of their twenty year old sedan had slid on a wet city street and rammed into the back of a lawyers shiny new Rolls Royce. They had been unable to pay, and without insurance, the judge sided with the lawyer and hey lost their home to cover the court fees and damages to the mans luxury vehicle. That home had been purchased using every dime of their lifes savings, and they had only owned it for three weeks. They still had a few pieces of luggage packed from their honeymoon trip to the beach from two weeks before. Now all they had was crammed into the wrecked car they used as a living room and dining room table.

The community of unfortunate victims had done the best they could with what they could find, and under the leadership of this man who now stood at the podium with Earnest. He had grown up foraging in the woods, surviving on what he could bring back home to his two siblings. Their parents had both died of pneumonia when he was only eight, so he had become both brother and parent to his younger siblings out of neccesity. They had become masters at trapping local wild game, and foraging edible foods from the land.

After explaining their plans with the group, they had jumped at the offer. Using their knowledge of the land and its plants, they had begun supplying highly valuable gensing root that was only found wild in the woods in the southern portions of Alainha Province. The Rebians had supplied the fuel, vehicles and logistics while the group of formerly homeless people had provided the product. Wild rasberries were processed into delicious jams, jellies and preserves, and marketed to the big cities as a specialty product free of preservatives and artificial ingredients, Under it's "all natural organic" banner the product had become a hit among the cities elite and wealthy, bringing hefty profits back to the people who produced them. After expenses and the workers pay had been covered, the group of formerly homeless people had recieved eighty percent of the profits. They Hagan increasing the variety of goods and had now become a major supplier for wild boar meat, which also had begun to help reduce the damage done by the highly overpopulated native species. It was marketed as a limited supply of all natural, organic meat, and was becoming a delicacy among the nations wealthy, replacing the farmed pork due to its superior taste.

Their little community had begun to change rapidly, as the tumbledown shacks were replaced with Rebian supplied log homes and shipping container storage buildings and garages, sold to them at cost. This little community had been the first location to host "freedom week" which was now expected to be an annual celebration.

Continuing with his introduction, Earnest says,

"This fine gentleman is now the proud CEO of Wrexwics own all natural herbs and produce company. He is backed by a board of of his closest friends and neighbors, those individuals who helped him turn this dream into a reality. Their products are swiftly becoming the most sought after items among the very citizens who once abandoned them in their hour of need. We have a booth set up where you can submit your application for employment. The business is growing very rapidly and we need delivery drivers, packaging associates, and a number of other positions filled as soon as possible. Profit sharing options are available to all employees because we believe that you should grow with the business that you put your valuable time into."

Earnest has to pause as the crowd erupts in applause and cheering. He shakes hands with the CEO and after the crowd quietens down again he continues by bringing Bubba Reb to the podium.

"Awright now, ya crazy rasckals, bring 'er down a notch, yer bout to bust mah eardrums!" He says with a huge grin. The crowd erupts again in laughter and someone off in a corner yells "GIT-R-DUN!" in a thick Wrexwician accent.

Laughing at the unknown locals excitement, Bubba continues.

"Now some o you folks may have been wondering what's goin on with all this kungfu fightin and weapons training and other such activities goin on around yer towns. For those of you who don't know yet, don't git yer panties in a bunch, we ain't gearin up for no war or any other such nonsense.

You all remember how it was around here just a few months ago when them sorry, low down, pieces of maggot puke french mafia turds were runnin around here like they owned the place right?" Bubba listens as the crowds murmurings subside, many nodding their heads in agreement.

"Well that crap ain't gunna happen agin around here! We ain't just gonna set you up with a good way of makin a livin, and leave you sittin like fat ducks on a still pond waitin fer some other scum to come snatch you up and take what you've worked so hard for. And lord knows the gov'ment ain't always around to protect ever'body from every two bit thug and punk that wants to steal instead of work.

No, since you cain't fit policemen in yer pockets, we figure the next best thang is to train you to know how to defend your own selves and families. So fer every person that wants to apply, we have psychological evaluations ready. If you pass the evaluations and the required training courses, we will train you in the arts of Bubba rebian homeland defense. That will involve in depth mixed martial arts training centered around a base of Krav Maga, one of the worlds finest combat arts. And it will consist of firearms training, weapon retention drills, use of force guidelines, home invasion defense, and community safety protocols among other schooling and technique's.

From now on if some filthy gang or anybody else fer that matter wants to push you around and abuse your familes, you will have the tools to stop em dead in their tracks. So, in tha words of a long gone group of fine warriors, "Molon Labe" "Come and take them" Cause we aint gonna give em up without a fight Jack!"

Some of the people in the crowd that have come from the far reaches of the provinces remote lands sat in stunned silence at what they have heard. Others who have heard the rumors but couldnt quite believe anyone would really invest all that, and not want to keep all the profits while forcing the workers to remain in a poverty striken servitude, find themselves almost breathless to see and hear it happening before their very eyes. The native population that that have come to know the Reban settlers have quite a different reaction. They have been working right alongside the freedom loving and fun loving rednecks, building their country into something to be proud of, eating dinner with the them in their homes, attending their casual parties and some even attending church sevices with them. They begin jumping to their feet, hooting and hollering and celebrating as if they had been doing so all of their lives, rejoicing in their newfound hope for he future.

Bubba unconsciously shifts gears as he moves into the role of inspirational leadership that his people know him for back home, all sign of his thick accent is gone as he raises his voice to address the stunned and excited crowd.

What was once a forgotten burden for the elite members of Wrexwician society, will soon become a thriving partner that is determined to pave the way of peace and prosperity. Never to be looked down upon again, but instead, to be followed, as you pursue your dreams, and prosper, setting the standard for your nation to follow!"

Bubba turns and walks from the podium, to mingle with the people, meeting new faces, shaking hands and swapping stories with their new friends.

[New Edom]

The National Council for Refugees Center, Harbourtown, Bara Province, New Edom

Mara pushed her pruning fork across the ground. "Phew," she said quietly to herself brushing her forehead with her hand - it certainly was hot in the garden sector of the Center. A rivulet of sweat ran down between her breasts. As she glanced up, she saw a pair of courting butterflies which landed for a moment on a nearby tomato plant. Such a nice sight, and she felt a bit wistful. The earthy reality around her was also artificial when it came to her position, always threatening to take this down to earth work away from her.

With determination Mara set to work again removing the weeds, tidying the greenhouse area's vegetable garden adjacent to the hydroponics facility. Her well toned arms and dirty hands pushed, tugged and plucked, her sensible sandals moved across the moist ground as she worked. Some who had known her before might not have recognized her. She was a little on the solid side from all the gardening but with her charming friendly face and laughing eyes under a cascade of black hair she was still herself. She seemed a vision of earthiness, strong, fertile and truly feminine. Like any person who lived and worked in this mostly Edenist city (outside of areas where you had to wear something for health and safety purpsoes) she could be viewed in her entirety - wide hips a generous bottom, flat stomach hinting at muscle and firm but ample breasts.

When it was time for her break, she went to review the matter of the National Council for Refugees' report on the requested assistance from the New Edomite branch of the Order of the Purple Cross. The organization was supported by the national government which provided most of the resources allocated to it.

"However the current mission parameters go beyond what we have already allocated," explained Dr. Ballard, the President of the NRC in his message to her." she clicked her tongue in annoyance, she had forgotten to clean her hands and there were flecks of dirt all over her laptop's keyboard. The air in the open garden outside the greenhouse, smaller, more for hardy herbs and flowers to help people relax than to grow vegetables, was rapidly cooling the air on her skin, and it helped her think more clearly as she rubbed her hands and considered his concern.

[i]"This is not a disaster relief or peacekeeping mission in the usual sense, though no doubt a few more security troops could be needed. It is rather one of building from a troubled state to a more sturdy one...

Mara smiled and she felt a lump in her throat. This was something she could truly get behind. The troubles of her own country might never stop but she could surely influence this. Not too much to ask...

Silo 1339 was the name of a company from Callaban which produced aquaponics kits. They could vary in size from being as large as a big dining table to being big enough to fill the ground floor of a small house, and generally operated on the principle of water flow, natural irrigationa nd baceriological support through a combination of fish and benign invertebrates and vegetable growth. Part of the whole idea was to have communities able to grow their own food in large quantities, including raising fish (catfish and carp were among the easiest for this kind of purpose) fresh water edible invertebrates like crayfish, and many kinds of vegetables including dwarf breeds of grains if need be.

Besides this, as community improvement was being done, Reverse Osmosis Water Purification units would be shipped out as well as portable hygiene units (showers and washing stations) which could easily be hooked up to the ROWPUS. Employees and volunteers from the National Council for Refugees would partner with the Purple Cross volunteers and employees from New Edom in order to help with this.

"I want to go too," Mara sighed. "But I wonder if I would be allowed, and it would just cause more problems than it solves...if I would just be a burden or a distraction...." well what she was able to do was start to set things in motion.

To her teary eyed delight though, not only was the NRC and the Purple Cross eager to support this mission, but Silo 1339 gave them a huge discount on the purchase of the Aquaponics units. The Department of Defense gladly agreed to cooperate, and agreed to send the following units to help:
1 flight of CM-7 Coureurs (the medium sized cargo lifter capable of landing on rough runways if need be, a very sturdy plane)
1 Squadron of mechanized infantry with light armour support from the 9th Marine Infantry Regiment to help with patrolling.
1 Hygiene and Health Support Company to help with instruction, installment and maintenance of the ROWPU and field shower units

There was much preparation to be done. But she wanted to very much to go herself, if only to see the place!

[Vangaziland]

The Wrexish Times
Archduke Silvio Serian Dies in Car Bombing

Central Wrexwic as well as citizens from all over the nation are mourning the loss of the top investor, the most important financial officer in Wrexwic, Arch Serrian. He was coming from a meeting in the enclave but leaving to go but lunch at his favorite place among the finance district.

At 13:08 today, Silvo was driving his 1999 Ferrari F355 Spyder along the Haynes expressway at an overpass, bombs went off coming down from an underpass. Bombs hit the roadster from above and below.

The Duke's closest family members were killed. Some had said the other oligarchs in power outside of the Silvo family, would be open to a free market. Now the test is on.

With as sad as that death is, there is a real possibility for Wrexish leaders to give into Vannish pressure and bring in a free market. Wrexwic could give back to his people... By giving them more freedom.

But it will take a lot of imvesting and trust in the market to really build Wrexwic. Skilled financial leaders are wanted.

Of course there was a weird angle. A piece of the bomb had a trace to Vannish serial numbers. So the nation has been placed in high alert. Foreign nations are under scrutiny, but not so much in Alianha where a mismatched team of hard workers, military personnel and doctors have turned to one poorest province into one of the top Wrexish places to live.

[Wrexwic]

Post-Silvo Serrian Conferences Push For Free Market

Polls have shown that the assassination of the financial Archduke has brought mixed feelings into the mind of the average Wrex. 89 percent of those surveyed have expressed deep feelings of sadness at the Archduke's death. 71 percent of voters said that Serrian's death would be "an important step towards the improvement of Wrexwic".

Many of Serrian's counterparts had been pushing for a more standardized type of government and the abolition of the pseudo-royal oligarchical class with its Dukes and Earls. As of now, Serrian's predecessor, Tom Way has not accepted the title of 'Archduke of Finance.'

For now, he has taken the title of Prime Minister, a title that has not been used in Wrexwic since 1953. He and members of the other wealthy, illustrious oligarchical families have formed a council and conducted emergency meeting.

When walking through the capitol city, one can't help but notice a feeling of hope that had been missing from our nation's dreary streets.

Kyle Quarter, 25, a city bus driver seemed optimistic. "If the oligarchical system turns into a regular govermnt by the people, or at least for the people, then maybe.... I don't know. Something good might happen."

"This probably won't affect me", said mother of 5 Roxy Kornholt. "But this is a great thing for my kids, I mean not the death. But the change."

In fact, with all this optimism, one must guess that Archduke Serrian was not really liked.

A policeman weighed in with his opinion. "No, I didn't like Serrian. He was spoiled and overprivliged in a nation that went poor. We went from first world to third world and the whole time he was rich. Well now we can go back to the first world without him.

Of course some people only felt sorry for the violent death of the former Archduke and his family. "Whoever set off that explosive was not right. One shouldn't just kill someone to change policy.

Feelings are mixed, anticipation is high. Everyone wants to see what will happen next.

[New Edom]

"..so orders as follows: 6 CM-7 Coureurs under the command of Colonel Rachel Zelek will prepare to convoy supplies, supported by the 11th Support Group's refueling units."

From Gone Air Force Base, the New Edomite expedition was refitting for a humanitarian mission. Overwhelmingly the base personnel were supply and support services, and everything from supply orders to shipping to receiving was done by them. Negotiations through the New Edomite envoy to the Order of the Purple Cross and through Mara Obed's good offices out of Harbourtown made this possible.

At this stage, a lot of the work was packing the equipment carefully upon receipt of it. Some of the planes would be moving directly to Callaban to pick it up from the airport there, where the main warehouses for the Aquaponics units were stored. Others would be moving the volunteers and employees of the OPC and the NCR as well as the small security unit provided by the 3rd Marine Regiment.

The unit would consist of 8 LT-10 Phorushacos Light Tanks, an air transportable small tank that sported a 90mm gun and was pretty fast and maneuverable, 12 M28 Vigilo Armoured Recon Vehicles, 8 M20 Hamsher APCs, and 8 land rovers which would be modular and capable of both supporting the ROWPU units or sufficing for other needs. A total of 170 Marine Infantry would be going to the foreign land to help provide security there.