Furthermore, I am of the opinion[IC, Invite Only]

[Valkalan]

Tekeri Countryside, 2117Z

The ruck through the rugged, mountainous Tekeri wilderness was a challenge. A torrent of rain bathed the Maj Meijer and his men as they came to a halt on a ridge overlooking their first target. Through his binoculars, Meijer surveyed the valley below. The target was a Patriot missile battery, which was illuminated by the occasional flash of lightening. The battery was one of three which had been designated for destruction by the analysts at the Prysm. Thermal optics revealed that the battery was guarded by at least four men, and Meijer knew from his briefing en route that active Patriot missile batteries had a three man crew. "Jynsen. Strigge. Cover us while we go in." said Meijer to his team's two marksmen.

Meijer and his four companions slowly made their way into the valley, taking care to remain concealed by the foliage. Once they were within 50 meters of the battery, Jynsen and Strigge fired their first shot, carefully synchronized with the thunder. Two Tekeri soldiers were down. A third Tekeri soldier turned when he saw his comrade hit the ground in his peripheral vision, only to be hit with a three 5.56 rounds to the chest, courtesy of Meijer's rifle. Meijer's shots altered the four survivors. Jynsen fired his second shot, ending the life of the battery's Tactical Control Officer as he rounded the corner from behind the battery. The three survivors took cover behind the battery, peering around the corners to fire at the team. "Cover me!" barked Meijer. His four companions kept the Tekeris suppressed while Meijer lobbed a flashbang in their direction. The three disoriented men were quickly dispatched by Meijer and company.

Bjorn, the team's demolitions specialist, placed C4 along the Patriot's launch tubes. Once the men moved to a safe distance, the Bjorn activated the explosives, sending the battery into oblivion.

[Caracasus]

Tarken Hall – Ferrum.

What are we gonna do now?
Taking off his turban, they said, is this man a Jew?
'Cause they're working for the clampdown
They put up a poster saying we earn more than you!
When we're working for the clampdown
We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
We will train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers

Inigo Karakatis sat at the back of the vast hall. Many had gathered to hear the political lectures given by Commander Josep Cazcau. Since its inception, the Tusk Militia had grown and grown. Started by Cazcau and a small band of loyal followers, Tekeristanis, Caracasusians and those from a variety of nations had gathered under its banner. All united under one cause. To resist the invading armies of Cardulan and their allies and to expose the treachery of Caracasus. Cazcau spoke for hours without pause for breath, condemning communists and lesser races alike. His energy and righteous anger throbbed within him and drove him onward as he read extracts from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, The Cult of Ganesha and The will to Power.

“And I hear you say, well what did the Caracasusians do?” Cazcau waited, a dramatic pause. The hatred for Caracasus ran deep within the crowd, nowhere more evident than those like Inigo and other ex-caracasusians.

“It has been proven that the Cult of Ganesha and the Caracasusian government own the mortgages on almost sixty per cent of Cardulan's churches! The investigations were a ruse, right from the start. Cardulan sought more land and Caracasus?”

Here he paused.

“Caracasus. Land of perverts and degenerates. Communists and their like. Where the strong are broken and made to serve the common herd. Caracasus wishes to commit that most heinous of crimes – cultural genocide against us. They would have us used as another failed experiment, another South Cardulan.”

“Right now, as of this very moment we can arm and train twelve thousand brave partisans ready to defend with our last breath our motherland! Twelve thousand! Remember our history – we stood alone against the Turks and won – we will win here!”

The speech went on, long into the night. Inigo listened, captivated as the words flowed over him.

---

Constanta – The Gate bar

As war came to Tekeristan, and mass panic set in among non-native and native Tekeristanis alike, many chose to flee overseas. Bohemivaria was a popular destination for many, to the extent that an informal route, starting in Tekeristan, travelling by Yohannes operated ships, was soon established. Constanta became the place to catch vessels leaving Tekeristan. A safe haven, with a promise of sorts from the invading forces that it would not be bombed.

You must remember this,
A kiss is still a kiss,
A sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply,
As time goes by

Nazeem looked up from the row of glasses he was busy examining for chips. Glared at the jukebox and yelled out. “Turn that bloody song off!”

A tired looking woman, the only one of his employees working at this time in the morning walked over to the jukebox and flicked it to the next song. Sunlight found its way into the bar, in spite of the best efforts of Nazeem to blot it out with shutters. It crept around doorframes and chinks, casting lines across the near empty tables.

“What the hell is that song doing there anyway? I don't remember putting it on the jukebox.”

The woman shrugged. “Satellites are down. The jukebox is just going through the pre-loaded selection.”

“Fuck's sake... just switch it over if it plays that song again, will you?”

Nazeem went back to inspecting glasses, his head pounding. The effects of his first drink of the day were wearing off, and the tremors in his hand reminded him of the seductively viscous amber liquid sloshing in the still half full bottle beneath the bar. He poured himself a good measure and gestured to Sandra. She shook her head. “No boss. Too early. I'm nearly done here, and we've only got three people in... mind if I get off early?”

Nazeem nodded. “Yeah, okay. I'll see you tomorrow. If we're still here tomorrow.”

As she left, three men in uniform pushed past her. She shot a worried glance back at Nazeem, who waved her on before finishing his drink.

“Gentlemen. What can I do for you today?”

The TISA agent and his two friends strode up to the bar, boots clanking. Nazeem winced involuntarily at the noise as the agent slammed a photograph down on the bar.

“We're looking for a man.”

Nazeem smiled. “Aren't we all? You might have better luck at The Parrot down the road though.”

The agent frowned. “Fuck you Nazeem. This isn't comedy night.”

“Sure it is. I've got three jokes right in front of me.”

One of the men spoke. More a growl than anything.

“Look at the photo. You seen him?”

Nazeem glanced at the photograph. It showed a man in some form of uniform, though Nazeem couldn't place it. Close-cropped hair that appeared to be somewhere between light brown and strawberry blond. Grey eyes.
“Nope. Not seen him”

“Sure you're not hiding him?”

Nazeem sighed, wearily. “Listen James. How many times do we have to do this little song and dance? When have you ever known me to stick my neck out for anyone?”

The man named James gestured to his two lackeys, they helped themselves to the remainder of Nazeem's bottle and took a seat at a table. “Yeah, yeah – don't worry. It's on the house.”

James leaned in closer. “So, Nazeem. Why did you leave Caracasus anyway? I heard it was love. Is that true? Mind you, I also heard that you got caught at the border with a shipment of rifles. That true?”

Nazeem looked around. “Nope. Why do you care anyway? I'm a citizen of Bohemivaria now. I'd show you my passport but you've already seen it three times this week. A fly landed on the bar, crawled towards a puddle of condensation.

“I don't get you. You leave your country. Go to another. Then here. Why? Why did you come to Constanta?”

“Why does anyone do anything? I read a book once about a bar in Constanta. I thought it sounded like a nice way to spend my time.”

James nodded. “Well, I believe you. Like you said, I doubt you'd stick your neck out for your own mother. Still...”

He gestured to his lackeys. “You two. Search the place.”

Nazeem sat back and opened another bottle.

[Watersville]

Waters City International Airport, Watersville

The large group of volunteers that had arrived were, to say the least nervous about what was yet to come. They had amassed a group of 300 volunteers that were deciding where they were going to go. About 200 of the volunteers were set toward Ferrum with the other 100 sent toward Saint Trevik. Each group then had a separate plane that housed the 60 men and women that made up the Aid Protection Forces. Within the next two hours, all of the supplies had been packed and the flights were on their way to the respective destinations.

Several hours later
Ferrum International Airport, Ferrum, Tekeristan

The aid workers that were on their way into Ferrum had finally arrived. They quickly took the materials and supplies off the plane and loaded it onto trucks and vans that they had bought. Then they had quickly packed into the cars and had driven to Point Alpha where Aid Camp One was set up.

Saint Trevik International Airport, Saint Trevik Tekeristan

The. Second crew had just arrived as the rain slowly began to fall on the city. They had also quickly packed their things into purchased vehicles and had made their way to what was called point Beta. When they arrived, however they found that the area had been inundated with floodwaters. They quickly looked over the plans and moved out toward Point Gamma. They quickly found that Point Gamma was a long way from where they were hoping, but they felt that this was probably better anyway. Now, there were camps set up in the Mountainous East and one closer to the coast in the west.