Lamerikan-Stojamian Cold War (MT/IC/APPS)

[Lamerika]

OOC

---

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerikan
Proletariat Mansion

A large TV blared inside the office, in the west wing of the Proletariat Mansion, Lamerika's seat of Government, as a group of men and women, some in military uniform, some in suits watched from the darkness of the room. Their faces were only illuminated by the light from the TV, their eyes focused on the man who was currently being displayed, standing before a ruined State Capitol Building. Below the man was a headline, "President Jameson Taylor, Live from Calgary".

Despite the wishes of the National Assembly, the Lamerikan President had insisted on traveling across country, to rebuild morale in the civilian and military population of the People's Republic. Now he was in Calgary, a war ravaged city, bombed into near oblivion, but none the less the President Stood among the ruins, wearing a uniform covered in dust, no doubt from hard work. He was surrounded by men and women, some in uniform others in civilian clothes, all looking up at him. "Our war is not over..." Taylor was saying, "Our war was never over! This..." He gestured behind him, "Is the last offensive of the bourgeois dictatorships. The desperation of the old powers. They fear us, because they cannot control us! They fear us because we cannot be bought, because we have tasted freedom, and will not stop until we have shared our nectar with the workers of the world! Our war was never over, not until we paint the world red!"

In the room, one man stepped in between the group and the television, clasping his hands before him. He was a shorter man, but he had a dominating presence in the room, cold dark eyes and an emotionless expression. He was Nikita Zakharov, former President and one of Jameson Taylor's inner circle. "He's right. The ceasefire has only bought us time, but how much time is anyone guess. Our enemies will come for revenge." He stated cooly, "So... we must beet them to the bunch, aye? Stojam is a threat, so long as Miroslav is in power. The man is nothing but a threat to the global revolution. He needs to die."

[Stojam]

(Image)

OOC

---

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerikan
Proletariat Mansion

A large TV blared inside the office, in the west wing of the Proletariat Mansion, Lamerika's seat of Government, as a group of men and women, some in military uniform, some in suits watched from the darkness of the room. Their faces were only illuminated by the light from the TV, their eyes focused on the man who was currently being displayed, standing before a ruined State Capitol Building. Below the man was a headline, "President Jameson Taylor, Live from Calgary".

Despite the wishes of the National Assembly, the Lamerikan President had insisted on traveling across country, to rebuild morale in the civilian and military population of the People's Republic. Now he was in Calgary, a war ravaged city, bombed into near oblivion, but none the less the President Stood among the ruins, wearing a uniform covered in dust, no doubt from hard work. He was surrounded by men and women, some in uniform others in civilian clothes, all looking up at him. "Our war is not over..." Taylor was saying, "Our war was never over! This..." He gestured behind him, "Is the last offensive of the bourgeois dictatorships. The desperation of the old powers. They fear us, because they cannot control us! They fear us because we cannot be bought, because we have tasted freedom, and will not stop until we have shared our nectar with the workers of the world! Our war was never over, not until we paint the world red!"

In the room, one man stepped in between the group and the television, clasping his hands before him. He was a shorter man, but he had a dominating presence in the room, cold dark eyes and an emotionless expression. He was Nikita Zakharov, former President and one of Jameson Taylor's inner circle. "He's right. The ceasefire has only bought us time, but how much time is anyone guess. Our enemies will come for revenge." He stated cooly, "So... we must beet them to the bunch, aye? Stojam is a threat, so long as Miroslav is in power. The man is nothing but a threat to the global revolution. He needs to die."

Sofia, National Assembly Building, Stojam.

Adrian Miroslav stood up with a microphone and sort of speaking table near him, he took a breath and then began his speech. "The Lamerikan president, Jameson Taylor, thinks he can take our freedom, with his bloodthirsty ideology of his, I have personal and horrible experience with Communism, in PR-Bulgaria, the atrocities the regime committed, in the name of Communism, was horrible, the world of his mind, is delusional and far away from reality, which sums Communism up, I believe that the world will be much better without him! And in addition, he wants our glorious motherland to himself! He wants to use us as slaves! He wants our nation to crumble down and die, and replace it under a dictatorship like his nation, so let's not let him! We will not stop until the world will be free and democratic, free from scum like him! Be ready my brothers! The Lamerikan monster will not give up! Enlist to the army, and be a noble knight of our blessed country."
He then saw the crowd with Lamerikan flags, "I see you got Lamerikan flags there, I know what you can do with it! Stomp on it! Burn it! And send the ashes to the Black Sea!" And the crowd did exactly what he said.

[Lamerika]

Calgary, Alberta, Lamerika
Taylor's Alberta Residence

At long last, civilians were returning to Calgary in droves, to homes that had been bombed and burned and gassed. Most would still be staying in refugee camps outside of the city, but at least they could attempt to salvage whatever belongs they could, while the PRA kept looters at bay, all while attempting to maintain some semblance of order. Construction crews were already well underway, repairing the damage done to the city by fighting, with the hope of being able to return most the the citizens to their homes as soon as possible.

In the city center, across from the State Assembly Building as a rather modest house, large yet plain in appearance, with tents surrounding it, heavily guarded by soldiers and local militiamen. It had suffered some damage, but miraculously escaped mostly unharmed. It was meant to be Jameson Taylor's personal home in the city, but had been converted into a kind of refugee camp and stronghold. Not that Taylor minded. He liked being surrounded by his people, it calmed him. And it help morale, to see the President wading through a damage and destruction of the camp, speaking with the wounded soldiers and displaced families, raising their spirits. He smiled kindly as he walked through the camp, speaking softly with a young woman in a PRA Medic Uniform, the rank of Major on her shoulder. She was Taylor's wife, Kiara, a member of the Lamerikan Militia and high ranking member of the Communist Party, "Did you see Miroslav's little speech?" She asked.

"Yep." Taylor sighed, "It was cute. The man seems to think I'm Stalin..." He chuckled to himself, "Should I be flattered?"

Kiara shrugged, "Burning the flag was a nice touch. They're fanatical bastards, eh?"

"For now," Taylor shrugged, "But Stojam is a zombie. Cut off it's head and the entire thing will be useless." His voice got quieter, and he began to lead his wife away from the crowds, "The issue is getting the knife to cut just right, a clean slice. An inch too low, or to high, and it's bound to be messy." His brow furrowed, "The zombie is getting ready to bite, so we need to know when to strike." A safe distance to from the crowd, "Where's the Okanagan?"

"She's ready."

"Good." Taylor grinned, beginning to move away from his wife, "Contact the Ministry of Intelligence, I want tabs on any citizens with connections to Stojam. Friends, Family, the guys who sell them Coffee, everything. Don't let anyone fool you, we are at war."

"And where are you going?"

"I'll see you in Vancouver. 3 days. I have something I need to see too." Taylor marched away.

---

Meanwhile, in the Mediterranean, far from the Stojam coast, the Lamerikan Aircraft Carrier, the LSS Okanagan was sailing slowly along, under the cover of the night. From the deck of the ship, a single spy drone launched into the sky, climbing to a high altitude, heading towards Stojam as the Carrier pulled away. The drone was armed with a plethora of Camera's and sensors all aimed at the ground below.

[Populi-Terrae]

Presidential Palace, Freiheit

Inguo Hayo was watching the anti-Lamerikan demonstration, unfolding in Stojam, on the Terraen News Network. He couldn't help but smile.

"It seems that tensions are increasing rapidly between the two powers", one of his advisers said. Hayo nodded in affirmation. "Yes, it would appear to be so. It's good to see that rancid Communist get his just deserts. I think it is time that we got our share of the spoils",

"Sir?"

Hayo snapped his fingers. One of his other advisers gave him his sharpest pen and a parchment.

From: President Hayo of the Democratic States of Populi-Terrae
To: The leadership of the Government of Stojam

I have observed the tensions growing between you and Lamerika. We seem to have a common foe. You have our diplomatic support. However, we will not give you any direct military aid. We will sell you weapons and perhaps send over some advisers. That is as far as I will go",

[Stojam]

Calgary, Alberta, Lamerika
Taylor's Alberta Residence

At long last, civilians were returning to Calgary in droves, to homes that had been bombed and burned and gassed. Most would still be staying in refugee camps outside of the city, but at least they could attempt to salvage whatever belongs they could, while the PRA kept looters at bay, all while attempting to maintain some semblance of order. Construction crews were already well underway, repairing the damage done to the city by fighting, with the hope of being able to return most the the citizens to their homes as soon as possible.

In the city center, across from the State Assembly Building as a rather modest house, large yet plain in appearance, with tents surrounding it, heavily guarded by soldiers and local militiamen. It had suffered some damage, but miraculously escaped mostly unharmed. It was meant to be Jameson Taylor's personal home in the city, but had been converted into a kind of refugee camp and stronghold. Not that Taylor minded. He liked being surrounded by his people, it calmed him. And it help morale, to see the President wading through a damage and destruction of the camp, speaking with the wounded soldiers and displaced families, raising their spirits. He smiled kindly as he walked through the camp, speaking softly with a young woman in a PRA Medic Uniform, the rank of Major on her shoulder. She was Taylor's wife, Kiara, a member of the Lamerikan Militia and high ranking member of the Communist Party, "Did you see Miroslav's little speech?" She asked.

"Yep." Taylor sighed, "It was cute. The man seems to think I'm Stalin..." He chuckled to himself, "Should I be flattered?"

Kiara shrugged, "Burning the flag was a nice touch. They're fanatical bastards, eh?"

"For now," Taylor shrugged, "But Stojam is a zombie. Cut off it's head and the entire thing will be useless." His voice got quieter, and he began to lead his wife away from the crowds, "The issue is getting the knife to cut just right, a clean slice. An inch too low, or to high, and it's bound to be messy." His brow furrowed, "The zombie is getting ready to bite, so we need to know when to strike." A safe distance to from the crowd, "Where's the Okanagan?"

"She's ready."

"Good." Taylor grinned, beginning to move away from his wife, "Contact the Ministry of Intelligence, I want tabs on any citizens with connections to Stojam. Friends, Family, the guys who sell them Coffee, everything. Don't let anyone fool you, we are at war."

"And where are you going?"

"I'll see you in Vancouver. 3 days. I have something I need to see too." Taylor marched away.

---

Meanwhile, in the Mediterranean, far from the Stojam coast, the Lamerikan Aircraft Carrier, the LSS Okanagan was sailing slowly along, under the cover of the night. From the deck of the ship, a single spy drone launched into the sky, climbing to a high altitude, heading towards Stojam as the Carrier pulled away. The drone was armed with a plethora of Camera's and sensors all aimed at the ground below.

The Border Guard, South Stojam.
After a few weeks the drone was launched, it came to South Stojam, the deep south, it was very close to the border station, so close of being shot down, since it had high altitude, they didn't know Stojamian border guards have radars and constant eyes in the sky, after a few moment the drone was shot down, and was brought in the Border guard station after 30 minutes, they recognized it's Lamerikan through studying of spyware, they contacted the intelligence ministry, and now it's under investigation just like in the U2-Incident.

Unknown, Stojam
"Hello gentlemen." Said President Adrian Miroslav as he walked through the dark room near a table, "So the Lamerikans want to play with us huh?", "We got a drone from them, Mr.Miroslav." Said one person with a dark uniform. "I see...... Well, let's find our contacts yeah? From what I know we got many options from Anti-Communists to Classical Liberals....... But two groups have caught my eye somehow...... The Turnbull ACs and the Wardogs, Turnbulls are lousy skinheads and the Wardogs well.... Overzealous gung ho.... Useful idiots I believe, contact Ramirez and Birdie, tell them that they have a new oppritunity to supply us info, and that they can make the Lamerikan regime crumble from inside. Keep doing what you are supposed to do gentlemen, I am out." Said Adrian Miroslav as he walked away with his guards.

"Alright, Birdie is a Turnbull AC semi-leader eh? And Ramirez is the leader of the Wardogs? I think yes, alright gentlemen, contact them, but make sure that you call from a blocked number so we won't get tapped, and use voice changers! Alright now get back to work!" Said a dark uniformed man.

[Lamerika]

Seattle, Washington, Lamerika
People's Gendarmerie 1st Division - Ministry 7

Lamerikan Police Cruisers and Vans screamed down suburban Seattle roads, sirens blaring before they came to screeching halt before a single detached home. Before they had even come to a complete stop, officers flooded out of their vehicles, some in regular patrol uniforms, some in full tactical gear, carrying assault rifles, and began setting up barricades around the single house. Tactical teams were quick to storm the home, guns raised, shouting orders to those inside. Many locals had gathered around to watch, kept at bay by the police, until minutes later, the tactical officers emerged dragging two young men, kicking and screaming before they were thrown in the back of police vans.

As they did, a black sedan rolled up to the house, and a man in a black suit stepped out. He walked over to a Tactical Officer, pulling out a badge, "Eric Jackson, Ministry 7." He announced, and the Tactical Officer saluted, "What've we got here Captain."

"That one had ties to Patriots Army insurgents, supposedly defected back at the end of the Revolution. Doesn't explain why he was speaking with this bastard." The Officer pointed to the men in the back of the van, pleading their cases, "2nd Generation Stojamian." The Officer spat in the mans direction.

"Good. Take 'em back to the station, we'll find out what they were doing." The Ministry 7 Agent sighed, "Good work here today, Captain."

---

Fort McMurray, Athabasca Republic, Lamerika
Fort McMurray AFB

Lamerika's cold interior was beginning the thaw with warm spring weather, but the atmosphere among military personnel was certainly not warm. An Mi-17 Helicopter touched down on the airfield, and President Taylor hopped out onto the tarmac, met by a military officer who rushed out to meet him. "Comrade President! Welcome to Fort McMurray!" The officer saluted, "Colonel Tremblay, at your service."

"Comrade Colonel, it's good to see you." Taylor saluted, "Tell me what's going on!"

"We lost contact with our drone!" The Colonel shouted over the sound of the helicopter blades, now taking back off and flying into the distance, leading Taylor towards and main complex in the air base. "Stojamians must've shot it down before it could gather any important info."

"God damn." Taylor hissed, "Have they said anything?"

"Not yet publicly."

"Good. Then we don't say shit yet, work on a cover story! If that's how it is, we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Contact Ministry 7, we're going to have to go boots on the ground. See if we can get a contact inside Stojam."

"M7's already on it." The Colonel announced, "Some Neo-Soviet elements working in Eastern Europe, we're going to try and get them into Stojamian territory."

"Good. Let's get it done, Colonel."

[Stojam]

Seattle, Washington, Lamerika
People's Gendarmerie 1st Division - Ministry 7

Lamerikan Police Cruisers and Vans screamed down suburban Seattle roads, sirens blaring before they came to screeching halt before a single detached home. Before they had even come to a complete stop, officers flooded out of their vehicles, some in regular patrol uniforms, some in full tactical gear, carrying assault rifles, and began setting up barricades around the single house. Tactical teams were quick to storm the home, guns raised, shouting orders to those inside. Many locals had gathered around to watch, kept at bay by the police, until minutes later, the tactical officers emerged dragging two young men, kicking and screaming before they were thrown in the back of police vans.

As they did, a black sedan rolled up to the house, and a man in a black suit stepped out. He walked over to a Tactical Officer, pulling out a badge, "Eric Jackson, Ministry 7." He announced, and the Tactical Officer saluted, "What've we got here Captain."

"That one had ties to Patriots Army insurgents, supposedly defected back at the end of the Revolution. Doesn't explain why he was speaking with this bastard." The Officer pointed to the men in the back of the van, pleading their cases, "2nd Generation Stojamian." The Officer spat in the mans direction.

"Good. Take 'em back to the station, we'll find out what they were doing." The Ministry 7 Agent sighed, "Good work here today, Captain."

---

Fort McMurray, Athabasca Republic, Lamerika
Fort McMurray AFB

Lamerika's cold interior was beginning the thaw with warm spring weather, but the atmosphere among military personnel was certainly not warm. An Mi-17 Helicopter touched down on the airfield, and President Taylor hopped out onto the tarmac, met by a military officer who rushed out to meet him. "Comrade President! Welcome to Fort McMurray!" The officer saluted, "Colonel Tremblay, at your service."

"Comrade Colonel, it's good to see you." Taylor saluted, "Tell me what's going on!"

"We lost contact with our drone!" The Colonel shouted over the sound of the helicopter blades, now taking back off and flying into the distance, leading Taylor towards and main complex in the air base. "Stojamians must've shot it down before it could gather any important info."

"God damn." Taylor hissed, "Have they said anything?"

"Not yet publicly."

"Good. Then we don't say shit yet, work on a cover story! If that's how it is, we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way. Contact Ministry 7, we're going to have to go boots on the ground. See if we can get a contact inside Stojam."

"M7's already on it." The Colonel announced, "Some Neo-Soviet elements working in Eastern Europe, we're going to try and get them into Stojamian territory."

"Good. Let's get it done, Colonel."

OOC: Are you talking about Birdie and Ramirez here? Birdie is not young, he is a Lamerikan veteran, just like um, 47 Years old, Ramirez is a War Veteran from Brazil, he is 49 Years old, so they aren't young, but if you tried to reference Birdie and Ramirez then.... Description is like..... Bad.

[Escocaria]

Within the Escocarian palace's war room, the two most powerful people of Earth-Victor stood together discussing the growing conflict. The İmparatoriçe, ruler of the first modern Empire, was speaking with the newly elected Başbakan, Ned Thompson. "So you're sure of this, Mr Thompson?" Annette asked.

"Certainly." He said, with a nod. "We don't have to get involved directly and for the sake of multiverse security we would be forced to use old technology, such as the weapons we used during 2017 and similar. I would recommend using German technology in that regard. Additionally, we could use mercenaries to act as a proxy force since we can't get our own military involved, as much as we would love to." He had a small smile on his face as he explained.

Annette returned the smile. "Such a shame, really, that we can't use all of our weapons. Either way, the Lamerikan swine needs to learn to obey his betters. If not for his sake then his peoples. Who knows? Maybe we can convince some of them to leave and live a better life in the Empire...or your Autocracy, if the Magus would be willing."

Ned chuckled slightly. "I'm afraid that the Magus would likely not allow that, not mass immigration at least. Certainly if there were some interesting individuals or those who held valuable intelligence then he would let them in but he wont let the average individual in just because you asked nicely. Anyway, even if I can do this without asking I would like your permission to put this forward and begin supplying the Stojamians with weapons, intelligence and manpower. We can't let the Communists go around unimpeded, after all."

"Very well." She nodded. "You have my permission and support, Mr Thompson." She gave Ned a salute. "Escocia için."

He returned the salute. "Escocia için."

[The Federation of Kendor]

(OOC: Keep in mind this happened before the Meeting in Kendor.)

---

Presidential Palace Military Bunker, Baxter, Kendor

---

Inside the military bunker, which look like a typical Kendorian military bunker, with some changes, President Dan Ferrell was speaking with five other people. The people were Debbie Wilson, the Grand Marshal of the Kendorian Army, Ben Stanley, the Grand Admiral of the Kendorian Navy, Skye Wilson, the Grand Marshal of the Air of the Kendorian Air Force and the sister of Debbie Wilson, Tyler Lane, the Head of the Kendorian Intelligence Agency, and Kenny Aaron, the Head of the mercenary company "The Capitalist Forces", which supplies mercenaries to any capitalist nations in trouble. As for the Grand Marshal/Admiral position, it's the highest position one can attain in the Kendorian army, and there are only three, as the Grand Marshal were immediately given a job to lead the entire military branch they are serving under. They can be distinguished by their military coats, which were colored according to the branch they are serving, with some customizations to further distinguish them from the regular officers, and their badge, which have five stars, with a chevron on both of each side, and the coat of arms of Kendor in the lower part of the badge.

They all were holding a meeting about how to deal with Lamerika after the failed invasion of Lamerika in the Brisketistani war, which could have been won if the Kendorian pushed faster before Brisketistan surrendered to Lamerika. They all have different viewpoints, as Dan Ferrell wanted the destruction of the communist government, Debbie Wilson wanted the invasion of Lamerika, her sister, Skye Wilson wanted to perform raids on important Lamerikan locations through flying drones, Ben Stanley wanted to perform coastal raids and daring strikes on the important ships of the Lamerikan navy, Tyler Lane wanted to perform intelligence gathering through any means necessary, and Kenny Aaron wanted to send mercenaries there to support Lamerika's capitalist rebels. Tyler Lane finally stood up, saying, "Since this a cold war between Lamerika and Stojam, we should support our ally Stojam by gathering any intelligences on Lamerika. We must be careful though, because we don't want to be discovered by the Lamerikan. We must also note that our relationship with Lamerika is bad, considering our invasion of them and hatred of their ideology." President Dan Ferrell soon nodded in agreement to Tyler Lane, before finally saying, "That's all I need to know and approve. So, meeting dismissed."

They soon got back to their jobs. Tyler Lane, who was given the task of gathering intelligence from Lamerika, was returning too, through a secret path....

---

KIA HQ, Baxter, Kendor

---

Tyler Lane returned to the Kendorian Intelligence Agency Headquarter through walking in a secret tunnel connecting the military bunker to the other bunker in the KIA Headquarter, though there are many paths that lead to inportant places in Baxter, and even some secret transport stations, which leaded to the secret network in other cities, because this tunnel is a part of the secret tunnel networks in Kendor. After some minutes of walking through the tunnels, he finally reached the KIA HQ. He soon walked down the hallway, which was pretty white, with some wirings and covers in the walls, as well as lamps in the ceiling, where he soon reached the elevator, which tooks him to the main floor. He soon walked into the Hacking Room no. 1, which contains some computers, where there are some hackers working to collect intelligences. He soon calls them to hack into Lamerika's servers, to collect intelligences, which they obey. The hackers used an advanced program in order to try hiding their tracks, and frame the act on other nations if necessary. He also ordered for a message to be sended to Stojam, by phoning the head of the Foreign Affair's Ministry to send a message to Stojam.

[Stojam]

Bathurst, New Brunswick
After the message from Stojam, Thrash the Warlord of the Turnbull ACs, has told Birdie to send a message to all Anti-Lamerikan gov't militias and groups to meet in their club, "The Red Devil", first it was sent to the Wardogs in Seattle who have taken a Zoo and neighbourhoods nearby, and also they sent it to Patriot's army and other Anti-Lamerikan gov't groups, after hours later, all of the delegates went inside the main place of meeting for the Lousy skinheads called the Turnbull ACs, they expected some Turnbull ACs, and they did came, the delegation of the Turnbulls consisted of Birdie and some other Turnbulls, "So you guys must be the delegates eh?" Said Birdie quietly as the place was blasting with music from their head band, the Angry Cocks, which played this song they expected for an answer from the delegates as the place was full of partying ACs.

[Lamerika]

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

A group of men approached, led by a man in a cowboy hat, wearing a cowboy hat and dark sunglasses. He looked around nervously, before nodding at birdie. "Aye, that would be me." He said in a thick southern accent, "Shane Walker." He introduced himself, offering a hand to shake, again glancing nervously around him. He looked to be in his mid 40s, wrinkly skin, but built like a tank. Well over 6 foot and with the muscles to boot. Regardless, he seemed to be shaky and rather unsure of himself, glancing about nervously and fidgeting with his hands.

Mediterranean Sea, LSS Okanagan

"Bachelor 1, this is Base plate. Radio jammers are active, you're in the clear. Good luck, comrades." The voice of a Lamerikan Admiral came over the radio, to the men in the Zodiacs along side the Air Craft Carrier. The men were all members of Ministry 7, the Lamerikan Intelligence Agency, and they had all been packed and prepared for an extended 'Vacation'.

"Right then. Let's get this done and dusted." One of the men sighed, lowering the Zodiac into the water. The engines were already running by the time it hit the water, and the little boat began to motor it's way to an uninhabited stretch of Coastline, were they would disappear into the forests. They're journey had just begun.

[Stojam]

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

A group of men approached, led by a man in a cowboy hat, wearing a cowboy hat and dark sunglasses. He looked around nervously, before nodding at birdie. "Aye, that would be me." He said in a thick southern accent, "Shane Walker." He introduced himself, offering a hand to shake, again glancing nervously around him. He looked to be in his mid 40s, wrinkly skin, but built like a tank. Well over 6 foot and with the muscles to boot. Regardless, he seemed to be shaky and rather unsure of himself, glancing about nervously and fidgeting with his hands.

Mediterranean Sea, LSS Okanagan

"Bachelor 1, this is Base plate. Radio jammers are active, you're in the clear. Good luck, comrades." The voice of a Lamerikan Admiral came over the radio, to the men in the Zodiacs along side the Air Craft Carrier. The men were all members of Ministry 7, the Lamerikan Intelligence Agency, and they had all been packed and prepared for an extended 'Vacation'.

"Right then. Let's get this done and dusted." One of the men sighed, lowering the Zodiac into the water. The engines were already running by the time it hit the water, and the little boat began to motor it's way to an uninhabited stretch of Coastline, were they would disappear into the forests. They're journey had just begun.

The Red Devil club, New Brunswick
"I am Birdie, nice to meet ya." Said Birdie as he shook Shane's hand. "I guess we are all here for one cause, destroying the shitbag of a gov't we got here, gentlemen, do you have any plans for this?" Said Birdie with a little bit anger, since he was Bipolar, but no one could feel that because he could already control it through many therapies and discussions. He was ready to destroy the Lamerikans.

[b]Stojamian Navy Guard station, Buchkin 2[, The Mediterranean Sea./b]
"Captain, there is something strange here..... The radio, it's jammed! What are we going to do!" Shouted one soldier as he looked in horror at the radio, "Contact the military intelligence agency! Be ready for any boat or invasion or anything! Arm yourselves now!" Said the Captain as the whole place was on alert, as well as they contacted the Military intelligence agency, the whole Navy was on alert, as well as the Stojamian military, the jamming could only mean one thing, Lamerikans.

[Lamerika]

Mediterranean Sea, Stojam Coast

"Come on, come on hurry it up!" The few Lamerikan Agents spoke in hissed voices as the hauled the dingy ashore, "We 'aint got all day!" This wave of the invasion was substantially smaller, than what would surely come when the time was right. 4 Men and 2 women, dressed in civilian clothing, and the single zodiac, completely devoid of markings. The men, aside from a few concealed knives and other small weapons, were unarmed, and they were going to try there best to keep it looking that way. And if all else failed, they had their cyanide pills.

"Right, everyone's got what they need?" One of the men questioned, pulling a wallet from his coat pocket. Flipping it open was a Stojamian Drivers licence, legitimate looking enough to hopefully fool any beat cop, or anyone else with prying eyes. It read Petar Bliznakov, his new identity. The others had similar possession, similar identities that would help them blend with the crowd. "From now on out, we don't know each other..." Mr. 'Bliznakov' sighed, "Not until the mission is over. Maybe then we'll meet at a bar. Jackson'll buy." The group laughed.

"That's Tihomir to you." The man named Jackson joked, "Damn, it's gonna take a while to get used to that."

"Well you'd better hope not." Bliznakov said, before getting up from the boat, "You know the deal. One way or another, Miroslav dies. Good luck Comrades." They all ran their separate directions.

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

"Whaddya think I've been trying to do for the past 13 damn years." Walker snorted, "Ever since Taylor and his little dick brigade came to town, who ya' think's been trynna kill the fucker. But it ain't so simple. The Party's got the country on lock down. Even out here we ain't safe... Taylor got his fingers in everyone's pie." Shane Walker spat a wad of chewing tobacco on the ground, "But the Communist Party's like a hydra, you know? Cut off one head, and two more will replace it. But you know what that means?" Walker leaned in close, "Cut faster." He grinned a little as he pulled back, "Nikita Zakharov." He threw a folder on a table near them, full of pictures, "Taylor's right hand man. Man's a hero. He's also flying to Europe tomorrow for a little R&R." He shrugged, "It ain't long to prepare, but we could intercept that flight over Canada. Snatch up ol' Tricky Nik, aye?"

[Stojam]

Mediterranean Sea, Stojam Coast

"Come on, come on hurry it up!" The few Lamerikan Agents spoke in hissed voices as the hauled the dingy ashore, "We 'aint got all day!" This wave of the invasion was substantially smaller, than what would surely come when the time was right. 4 Men and 2 women, dressed in civilian clothing, and the single zodiac, completely devoid of markings. The men, aside from a few concealed knives and other small weapons, were unarmed, and they were going to try there best to keep it looking that way. And if all else failed, they had their cyanide pills.

"Right, everyone's got what they need?" One of the men questioned, pulling a wallet from his coat pocket. Flipping it open was a Stojamian Drivers licence, legitimate looking enough to hopefully fool any beat cop, or anyone else with prying eyes. It read Petar Bliznakov, his new identity. The others had similar possession, similar identities that would help them blend with the crowd. "From now on out, we don't know each other..." Mr. 'Bliznakov' sighed, "Not until the mission is over. Maybe then we'll meet at a bar. Jackson'll buy." The group laughed.

"That's Tihomir to you." The man named Jackson joked, "Damn, it's gonna take a while to get used to that."

"Well you'd better hope not." Bliznakov said, before getting up from the boat, "You know the deal. One way or another, Miroslav dies. Good luck Comrades." They all ran their separate directions.

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

"Whaddya think I've been trying to do for the past 13 damn years." Walker snorted, "Ever since Taylor and his little dick brigade came to town, who ya' think's been trynna kill the fucker. But it ain't so simple. The Party's got the country on lock down. Even out here we ain't safe... Taylor got his fingers in everyone's pie." Shane Walker spat a wad of chewing tobacco on the ground, "But the Communist Party's like a hydra, you know? Cut off one head, and two more will replace it. But you know what that means?" Walker leaned in close, "Cut faster." He grinned a little as he pulled back, "Nikita Zakharov." He threw a folder on a table near them, full of pictures, "Taylor's right hand man. Man's a hero. He's also flying to Europe tomorrow for a little R&R." He shrugged, "It ain't long to prepare, but we could intercept that flight over Canada. Snatch up ol' Tricky Nik, aye?"

The Red Devil club, New Brunswick
"Nikita? I think I remember him, shit, man, this piece of shit...... Taylor and Nikita ordered to torture my ass, and now I have my permanent physical disability, my shit knee...... But nobody pushes around Birdie! Remember that! Anyways, where is the flight coming from? Is it from New Brunswick or any other place we have chapters in it? Since Turnbulls are a real heavy set." Said Birdie as the Wardog delegate was watching in boredom and had a smug smile on him, he knew something important.
Stojam Coast
When Bliznakov ran and after 30 minutes, he realized he is in some city, it was big city, some real heavy fortune city, "Nova Constantinople" it was the name of the city, as some soldiers got up near and asked him in Bulgarian "Passport please" they expected him to know Bulgarian.

[Lamerika]

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

"You're not the only one." Walker growled, "The flights taking off from Calgary, not situational, but it should go over New Brunswick. That shouldn't be a problem though." He shrugged.

Mediterranean Sea, Stojam Coast

"Certainly, officers." 'Bliznakov' said in fluent Bulgarian. The man's family was ethnically Serbian, and had migrated to Canada only a few years before the revolution. Not only, but the man had undergone rigorous training to deal with any situation, and was fluent in Bulgarian, Romanian, Russian and English. "Digging into the pockets of his bag, he pulled out a Stojamian Passport, handing it to the soldiers.

"I hope everything is alright." He said, acting somewhat curious, "I'm just on my way to visit my in-laws." His in-laws, or his contacts who would help him get to the Stojamian Capitol.

[Stojam]

Rebel Hideout
Shane Walker - Patriots Army

"You're not the only one." Walker growled, "The flights taking off from Calgary, not situational, but it should go over New Brunswick. That shouldn't be a problem though." He shrugged.

Mediterranean Sea, Stojam Coast

"Certainly, officers." 'Bliznakov' said in fluent Bulgarian. The man's family was ethnically Serbian, and had migrated to Canada only a few years before the revolution. Not only, but the man had undergone rigorous training to deal with any situation, and was fluent in Bulgarian, Romanian, Russian and English. "Digging into the pockets of his bag, he pulled out a Stojamian Passport, handing it to the soldiers.

"I hope everything is alright." He said, acting somewhat curious, "I'm just on my way to visit my in-laws." His in-laws, or his contacts who would help him get to the Stojamian Capitol.

The Red Devil Club, New Brunswick
The Wardog delegate decided to say something, "We got contacts in Calgary, we can soldier our way through countless soldiers until we get to the flight.... But then.... There might be a chance we won't survive this, so we must be smart and stealthy, the Wardogs got strings to push all around Lamerika, question to you Walker, do you know Ramirez? Do you know the Wardogs in general? Because you might know that we are powerful and we are also planning to push your militia up on the food chain.... That would be quite risky, but we can do a lot of things together." Said the Wardog delegate waiting for response.

Nova Constantinople, Stojam
"Alright sir, I believe you would want to get out of here since it's not really safe in a case of the Turks coming, since we kind of pissed them off with the town, also this town is still work in progress, so there is the only way out, go down on Bajamaria street from south to here, but there is a large anti-Lamerikan protest so you wanna not get offended, just kidding I am messing with ya. So.... Have a good day and stay safe." Said one officer in Bulgarian with a smile on his face.

[Lamerika]

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

Bliznakov laughed nervously, "Thank you, officers." He nodded, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Good evening." With a wave, he began to walk onwards, careful to keep his movements natural as he moved away from the the soldiers. However, he was only about a block away when a black Skoda Octavia pulled up next to him, with a local man a few years Bliznakov's junior sitting in the drivers seat.

"Petar! God damn man, you've been looking all over for you! Momma was starting to worry!" He said in a loud, booming voice, as if he was trying to make sure the soldiers a block behind could hear.

Bliznakov laughed, recognizing the man almost instantly as his handler, "You know me, I like to take the scenic route. It's good to see you, Alek"

"Aye. Now get in, no point in keeping them waiting any longer." Bliznakov slipped into the car, and had barely slipped on his belt when the car raced away. Alek's face instantly hardened, "We're already running behind schedule." He hissed, "Let's go."

Rebel Hideout

"Ramirez? Ain't never heard of him." Walker shrugged, "But if you plan on fighting your way to Zakharov, your gonna be up the river without a paddle. PRA ain't gonna be stomped by some bikers n' shit. That is unless Ramirez has a plan. My boys are ready to work with him, just give the word."

[Stojam]

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

Bliznakov laughed nervously, "Thank you, officers." He nodded, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Good evening." With a wave, he began to walk onwards, careful to keep his movements natural as he moved away from the the soldiers. However, he was only about a block away when a black Skoda Octavia pulled up next to him, with a local man a few years Bliznakov's junior sitting in the drivers seat.

"Petar! God damn man, you've been looking all over for you! Momma was starting to worry!" He said in a loud, booming voice, as if he was trying to make sure the soldiers a block behind could hear.

Bliznakov laughed, recognizing the man almost instantly as his handler, "You know me, I like to take the scenic route. It's good to see you, Alek"

"Aye. Now get in, no point in keeping them waiting any longer." Bliznakov slipped into the car, and had barely slipped on his belt when the car raced away. Alek's face instantly hardened, "We're already running behind schedule." He hissed, "Let's go."

Rebel Hideout

"Ramirez? Ain't never heard of him." Walker shrugged, "But if you plan on fighting your way to Zakharov, your gonna be up the river without a paddle. PRA ain't gonna be stomped by some bikers n' shit. That is unless Ramirez has a plan. My boys are ready to work with him, just give the word."

Red Devil Club.
"Nah nah nah, we AIN'T bikers." said the Wardog, "We are a strong militia, we are organized, we have army codes, we have contacts, we have a turf, we have almost everything needed! Also Ramirez is Brazilian, he was once a heck of a powerful person in Brazil, you know how many Commies disappeared when they tried something stupid and Ramirez knew about it? A lot, anyways, Ramirez will need a delegate to come over to his turf, just take off your guys colors, and come as civilians, since we Wardogs don't want to get caught and shit, so we must be discreet, we will plan together everything needed." Said the Wardog delegate as he was about to go but he remembered to give address.
"Carcer street 89,Seattle, at Monday, hour 2:10 PM, alright?" Said the Wardog delegate as he waited for response.
Nova Constantinople, Stojam
The Anti-Lamerikan demonstration blocked the path, so they had to wait out or beep, but waiting it out was making sense, because the Stojamian protestors wouldn't care or come with violence.

[Fascistisk State]

Overkommando Kombihæren Headquarters - 'White Rose' Building, Helsinki
Helsinki was a sea of steel and concrete. Finland had always been the most militaristic of the Fascistisk States, and this was evidently clear in the structure of their capital city. Helsinki had been nearly flattened during the Grand Fascistisk Revolution, but it had been reconstructed by the same architects that had expanded Oslo and Stockholm during the first and most radical years of the Fascistisk Union. Great monuments to the Kombihæren dotted large marble squares, flagpoles of wrought iron were ordered all around the roads and backstreets, the Nordic cross of Finland on one side and the golden eagle of the Fascistisk Union swaying on the opposite.
The Headquarters of the Overkommando Kombihæren was situated in the Government District of the city, a group of buildings that housed the nerve centre of the Fascistisk military. Nearly 20 000 employees were working on the grounds at any given day, going about their critical work just as the city stirred around them. In the centre of this group, there was a building that stood out when compared to the others - a tall structure of white marble that the citizens of Helsinki called the 'White Rose'. It was here that the most important military officials would convene with their civil counterparts, and today, a meeting had been called.

Chancellor Trygstad stepped out of her car, nodding to the driver as she breathed in the cold Finnish air. It had been a long trip from her position in Norway, but a necessary one. The High Party of the Fascistisk States was required to meet with the military to discuss a course of action in these turbulent times, and the Chancellor was the most primary member of the High Party. She walked through the wet grounds, coming to stop at the oaken door to the White Rose. She pushed it open, coming into a small, circular room.

The walls on the ground level were beautifully carved all the way around the wall; depicting workers being crushed by a faceless man wearing a wickedly sharp looking crown, buildings burning and fields of graves, sturdy looking men and women wearing steel helmets helping the workers to stand, the soldiers and the workers standing together against the king, and finally, the golden crown melting down from the top of the depiction into a brilliantly sculpted Fascistisk eagle. The eagle was the only hint of colour within the whole tapestry, appearing directly behind a semi circular table at which four people sat.

All four of them wore masks, each of them painted in the colours of the old Scandinavian flags on them, corresponding to which of the countries they represented. A seat was empty in the middle of the four High Party members, obviously reserved for the Fascistisk Chancellor and the final member of the High Party. Another table sat opposite the first one, filled with groups of men and women dressed in full military dress uniforms.

The Chancellor took her seat, donning her own ceremonial mask - which was coloured in the flag of the Union rather than any one nation - and patiently waiting for the meeting to begin.

An older man stood at the opposite table, bringing his fist to the centre of his chest in the traditional salute of the Kombihæren. "Chancellor, I trust you have been briefed to the issue at hand?"

Trygstad nodded. "I have an understanding, yes. I read about it on the plane. I'm sure you have an advanced report, Field Marshal Lystad?"

The officer made an agreeable sound. "Skjult Marshal Ukjent prepared a presentation for our purposes today. We have been through it with the other members of the High Party while we waited for your arrival."

The Chancellor nodded again. "Good." She turned her attention to the masked officials to her left and right. "And what is our consensus?"

The Finnish mask spoke up first, a female voice as cold as the metal behind her. "Mixed. The only thing we have agreed upon is to keep the People's Assembly from passing any sort of declaration on the subject. Careful times, we must be careful."

The room erupted into a chorus of agreement and disapproval.

The Danish High Party member. "The Lamerikans must be stopped!"

"Stojam is not our ally, we needn't involve ourselves. Not after we have just won our last war." A general by the name of Kivi, his voice controlled and ordered.

The Swedish mask now. "We should turn our attention to the Middle East. There is work to be done, this is naught but a distraction."

The Finnish voice was raised again, with a shred more colour than before. "Taylor's speech was rather clear - he is not content with his situation. Any kind of hesitation is appeasement, and history should show that this sort of expansionist communism must be stamped out before it becomes a blight on the world."

Trygstad was silent while the officials continued to bicker, waiting for the last arguments to petter out before saying her piece. Field Marshal Lystad held up his hand, quieting the military officials while the High Party quieted. "I was under the impression that Taylor cannot pose a practical threat to our country. His nation is war-torn, and although his military seems to be triumphant, I'm sure that the populace is beginning to tire. Is there any definitive reason we must consider war so quickly? Perhaps a strongly worded message would better suit our needs."

A murmur of agreement passed throughout the room, dying quickly as the old arguments began to flare. This time, however, the Norwegian party member was able to silence the infighting. "The Chancellor makes a reasonable point, comrades. We have no need to decide a side to back - if any - at this very moment. Since Taylor seems to be the aggressor, I assume it's fair to say that our first course of action should be to attempt to discourage him? I like the idea of a message." The rest of the High Party remained silent, their expressions hidden behind the flags they wore on their faces.

The Chancellor scanned the room, trying to gauge the reaction of the Overkommando. "The Kombihæren," she probed. "Is it ready to meet the threat of Lamerikan invasion?"

Field Marshal Lystad was the first to reply. "A direct attack on our homeland would be repulsed with relative ease, but our territories in the Pacific and the Middle East are far more vulnerable. If they were to strike there, defensive combat would be difficult, but ultimately, I am confident in our victory. In any case, they seem focused on Stojam for the time being. We can reinforce territorial positions, if you will it?"

"That would be prudent," Murmured Trygstad. "I will speak with the Skjult Marshal about hardening our more... Unseen... defences. Now then - are we in agreement about this course of action?"

"I think it folly." The Finnish mask was speaking again. "We cannot trust these Lamerikans any more than our forefathers could trust the Soviets. We must break them while they are weak, not wait for them to raise and train yet more reds. Communism has been our enemy since our foundation, like monarchism and like capitalism! We are Fascistisk, the only course we can take is our own. Parleying with these reds is like trying to pet a starving dog - we will only be bitten."

Trygstad thought about her talk - the Finnish were, undoubtably, the most traditionally Fascistisk of the Union, and their elected official displayed that orthodoxy quite clearly. "Thank you for your input, Ringstad. A vote, then? All for the message raise your hand, all against it remain still."

Three hands were raised - Norwegian, Danish, and Swedish. The Finnish member folded her own arms, stubbornly glaring at the Chancellor through her painted mask. "Very well," Said the Chancellor, seeing that the vote was clear. "I will see the thing done."

Jameson Taylor,

The Fascistisk Union has observed a definite rise in tensions between your own country and that of Stojam. While we understand that you are a sovereign nation, and that it is your right to carry your people to war, the High Party and the Overkommando of our own great Union urge you to lay your arms down and focus on the rebuilding of your own nation.

A conflict will bring nothing but suffering to all sides - there is no need for it. We ask that you come to seek terms with Stojam, if not for your own citizenry, then for theirs. You say your care is for the workers of the world - commit yourself to peace.

Sincerely,
Fascistisk Chancellor Rakel Trygstad, with the wishes of the High Party.

[The Seryyiok Empire]

---

Imperial Palace, Beijing

---

The Two Emperors, Seriok Kuzio and Lynn Ki, would be sitting upon the Emperor's throne that has been expanded to hold the spouses of the monarch as they are the also the head of the state and government to represent the Kingdom, the people, the Empire that was founded by the Qing Dynasty in 1644 before the Kuzio Dynasty came to power in the early 1930s during a time of civil unrest with the spread of Stalinism by a wicked and tyrannical leader by the name of Mao Zedong and his rebels was trying to overthrow the Imperial Government but was defeated by the hands of the First Emperor of the Kuzio regime, by the name of Fan Kuzio known for his extreme military tactics and grand economic policies that decrease poverty in the nation with allowing the lower classes access to free education and other benefits to ensure that people remain loyal to the government and his dynasty which was followed by other monarchs in the family becoming more progressive leaning though still having traditional authority in the government without any limitations that made the nation classified as an Imperialistic Liberal Monarchy.But anything of western ideologies would be restricted dearly as the dynasty believed it would be corrupt the country and lead them to their downfall though their policy in running the kingdom are in the mixed of the left-right spectrum so they are mostly radical centrists.

Anyways the Two Emperors would be having calming of green tea and Peking Roasted Duck for their morning breakfast before starting the day as that was happening, one of their civil officers, whom would be of Arabian and African descent named Abd al Rashid as he would have born from an immigrant family that came from Northern Africa to look for a better life here in the Seryyiok Empire with this land being the land of tolerance and understanding as the united states is seen as the land of oppression and savagery, given the increase in hate crimes and backward policies that discriminate against the minorities of all groups, he would firstly bow to the Emperors dressed in a golden silk robes with colorful dragons dancing and have a red keffiyeh on his head.

"Rise, and speak of the matter you wish to tell us, my friend" said the First Emperor with a calm and friendly tone in his voice towards abd al Rashid."Your majesties, I have news of tensions between the Stojamians and Lamerikans, shall I tell, my lords" said the officer, the Emperors would given permission, the doors that led into the throne room would automatically shut as the civil officer begins to explain in great details of the reason of the growing tensions of two antagonists by using facts from the Brisketistanian-Lamerikan war that might be the means of the problem with the atrocities by Lamerika's enemies upon her people as questions of which side, the empire should stand on.
Although the Emperors would already made up their minds to join with Jameson Taylor of Lamerika to aid his war-torn country and join in vengeance against the Stojamians and their allies, as they would not wish by justified means to have another conflict over their Alaskan and Northern Canadian territories that was in the 1960s."You may leave, my friend" said the Second Emperor, Lynn Ki, to the officer.Abd Al Rash would bow respectively and leave the room in silence with the two lords alone.

Lynn Ki would have concerns on his mind, but knowing his spouse, they would be meaningless in this time of interests and so he would say nothing as the First Emperor ordered a message to be sent to the President of Lamerika at once.

Jameson Taylor

The Kingdom of Imperial China has observed your wars with the devil man of this world, that are blind to the truth of understanding of your ways, they have no respect for the innocents, they wish to only profit and exploit the helpless, we have seen, and we have wished to aid your in these dark times, we will have all assistances open from diplomacy to militarily assistance, we will fund and supply with anything you need to restore your nation from the war wish benevolence without you owing us anything, as we believe as a species of this world that we must help our brothers and sisters without such worries of how they will pay for it,as helping the fallen and beaten, is the greatest payment that we will ever need to keep our heart in the light and not in the dark.

Sincerely, Emperor Seriok

[Lamerika]

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerika
Proletariat Mansion

Jameson Taylor was tired, but his presence wouldn't betray that for a second. Since, their drone had been shot down in the Mediterranean, he'd been racing up and down, north, south, east and west, all across the country. For now, the Stojamians had neglected to take any action to retaliate, at least in the sense that any Lamerikan Official could tell. So far as they knew, they still had the initiative. And so Taylor had spent the past days visiting his troops, workers, anything to keep up morale for whatever would come in the coming months.

He was dressed more formally than he would normally be, in a clean uniform, polished boots and straight cap. His face was unusually stern, as he saluted passing soldiers on his way to his office.

"Comrade President." Taylor turned into a corridor, running into one of his advisers, Anton Krol. By Lamerikan Communist Party standards, Krol was a radical. Born in Poland in the Soviet Union, Krol's mother had been KGB, and his father a Political Commissar, having imigrated to the west following the fall of the USSR. He was small, yet with a dark and hostiles eyes that could burn a whole in the bravest PRA rifleman. Even Taylor sometimes found himself of put by the man, but regardless he was a strong asset to have. "Comrade President, it's good to have you back in Victoria."

"Good to be back." Taylor sighed, as Krol began to march besides him, "What have you got for me?"

"Something you may find interesting." Krol growled, "The Fascistisk Chancellor has sent a telegram. The message is in your office, Comrade. She wants us to 'lay down arms'."

Taylor laughed out loud, startling a nearby squad of soldiers, "We face invasion from Stojam and her allies, but they see us as the aggressors?" He snorted, "Swine. I will not make Stalin's mistake, and put my trust in a Fascist."

" The Seryyiok Empire, has also reached out." Krol said, "Seems they've offered to watch our back."

Taylor reached his office, placing a hand on the door knob, "Of all the men out there, and Emperor's coming to help. Fuck me."

Chancellor Rakel Trygstad

While I appreciate your concern for our people's well being, I regret to inform you you seem to be ill informed. We are doing nothing but protecting our own sovereignty from those who seek to strip it away.

I do not wish to send my people to war, but I will do what I must to defend them from those who seek to destroy us. Stojam wished us nothing but pain and suffering, and should they want a war, so be it. We will fight them if we must, and we will be ready.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

Emperor Seriok

I would like to extend to you my personal thanks, in regards to you offer of support to our cause. I know more than anyone, that in our present state we need all the help he can get, and your most kind words. If it is in your intrests, we would be willing to meet with a delegation of yours to discuss such things in person.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

---

Rebel Hideout

"Right." Walker said quietly, almost to himself, "Whatever you guys are, ya'll better be ready. Anyone standing between you and tricky Nik ain't gonna be no Putty Patrollers. They're gonna be fanatics, and they're gonna be trained." He nodded off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, "I'll send some guys to meet with 'em. They ain't gonna be in uniform, don't worry." He turned to look the war dog in the eye, "They'll be there, trust me."

---

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

"Son of a bitch." Alek swore, planting his fist squarely on the horn of his car, as Protesters blocked the road, "Y'all mind fucking off." He hissed quietly in the confines of the vehicle.

"This ain't gonna be easy." Bliznakov sighed, "That's a lot of angry civilians."

"That's a lot of Gulags." Alek joked, snorting a little at his own joke, slowly crawling trying to get through the crowd, which was looking less and less likely, "A lot of bullets."

Bliznakov shrugged, "If we could kill Miroslav without turning this country into the fucking Ukraine, that would be great."

"Hey, Kulaks are Kulaks." Alek stated matter of factly, "If they don't want to change, we'll give them what all capitalist pigs like most." He grinned a little to himself, "Incentive."

"So how are we looking." Bliznakov questioned, "Obviously these bastards ain't on our side."

"A few rebellious kids. Soviet Flag wavers and what have you. Mostly goons. The big guns are the Turks. Let's say they're not to happy about the Orthodox Christians coming to town, raising up the Stojam Flag in New Constantinople. There are more than a few fuckers that want to see Miroslav gone, all they need are the guns." He paused for a moment, growling under his breath as he pulled around and began to move away from the protesters to find a way around them. "That's where we come in."

[The Seryyiok Empire]

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerika
Proletariat Mansion

Jameson Taylor was tired, but his presence wouldn't betray that for a second. Since, their drone had been shot down in the Mediterranean, he'd been racing up and down, north, south, east and west, all across the country. For now, the Stojamians had neglected to take any action to retaliate, at least in the sense that any Lamerikan Official could tell. So far as they knew, they still had the initiative. And so Taylor had spent the past days visiting his troops, workers, anything to keep up morale for whatever would come in the coming months.

He was dressed more formally than he would normally be, in a clean uniform, polished boots and straight cap. His face was unusually stern, as he saluted passing soldiers on his way to his office.

"Comrade President." Taylor turned into a corridor, running into one of his advisers, Anton Krol. By Lamerikan Communist Party standards, Krol was a radical. Born in Poland in the Soviet Union, Krol's mother had been KGB, and his father a Political Commissar, having imigrated to the west following the fall of the USSR. He was small, yet with a dark and hostiles eyes that could burn a whole in the bravest PRA rifleman. Even Taylor sometimes found himself of put by the man, but regardless he was a strong asset to have. "Comrade President, it's good to have you back in Victoria."

"Good to be back." Taylor sighed, as Krol began to march besides him, "What have you got for me?"

"Something you may find interesting." Krol growled, "The Fascistisk Chancellor has sent a telegram. The message is in your office, Comrade. She wants us to 'lay down arms'."

Taylor laughed out loud, startling a nearby squad of soldiers, "We face invasion from Stojam and her allies, but they see us as the aggressors?" He snorted, "Swine. I will not make Stalin's mistake, and put my trust in a Fascist."

" The Seryyiok Empire, has also reached out." Krol said, "Seems they've offered to watch our back."

Taylor reached his office, placing a hand on the door knob, "Of all the men out there, and Emperor's coming to help. Fuck me."

Chancellor Rakel Trygstad

While I appreciate your concern for our people's well being, I regret to inform you you seem to be ill informed. We are doing nothing but protecting our own sovereignty from those who seek to strip it away.

I do not wish to send my people to war, but I will do what I must to defend them from those who seek to destroy us. Stojam wished us nothing but pain and suffering, and should they want a war, so be it. We will fight them if we must, and we will be ready.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

Emperor Seriok

I would like to extend to you my personal thanks, in regards to you offer of support to our cause. I know more than anyone, that in our present state we need all the help he can get, and your most kind words. If it is in your intrests, we would be willing to meet with a delegation of yours to discuss such things in person.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

---

Rebel Hideout

"Right." Walker said quietly, almost to himself, "Whatever you guys are, ya'll better be ready. Anyone standing between you and tricky Nik ain't gonna be no Putty Patrollers. They're gonna be fanatics, and they're gonna be trained." He nodded off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, "I'll send some guys to meet with 'em. They ain't gonna be in uniform, don't worry." He turned to look the war dog in the eye, "They'll be there, trust me."

---

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

"Son of a bitch." Alek swore, planting his fist squarely on the horn of his car, as Protesters blocked the road, "Y'all mind fucking off." He hissed quietly in the confines of the vehicle.

"This ain't gonna be easy." Bliznakov sighed, "That's a lot of angry civilians."

"That's a lot of Gulags." Alek joked, snorting a little at his own joke, slowly crawling trying to get through the crowd, which was looking less and less likely, "A lot of bullets."

Bliznakov shrugged, "If we could kill Miroslav without turning this country into the fucking Ukraine, that would be great."

"Hey, Kulaks are Kulaks." Alek stated matter of factly, "If they don't want to change, we'll give them what all capitalist pigs like most." He grinned a little to himself, "Incentive."

"So how are we looking." Bliznakov questioned, "Obviously these bastards ain't on our side."

"A few rebellious kids. Soviet Flag wavers and what have you. Mostly goons. The big guns are the Turks. Let's say they're not to happy about the Orthodox Christians coming to town, raising up the Stojam Flag in New Constantinople. There are more than a few fuckers that want to see Miroslav gone, all they need are the guns." He paused for a moment, growling under his breath as he pulled around and began to move away from the protesters to find a way around them. "That's where we come in."

Seriok would be in his personal quarters in the royal office for the crown ruler of the nation, which have a daycore of the himalayan mountains on the wall behide him, a roll of columns with stories of the common people written in mongolian and han chinese, nevertheless the room would be fitted for royalty.

A servant would enter the room and tell him that the President has responded with acceptance and request of having a delgate sent to his country.

Seriok would take up his phone on the right side of his desk as the others would be filled with important document regaurding the conflict that is happening and some proposals of green lighting the military host war games in the Arabic deserts near the Iraqi-Chinese border line and the Russo-Sino border line in the Ural mountain region as making preparations for a possible invasion of Europe, if the times and storm of the Middle East also naval wargames would be requested also, each of the documents on military matters would be allowed by his majesty and he would lessen the need for the Armed Forces to ask perparation for such things to let them have more freedom in a way though still loyal and very so loyal his majesty's government with the entire government being stratocratic.

Seriok Kuzio would have message sent back to the President telling him that his son will be the delgate with Taylor's government.

Jameson Taylor

Thank you for accepting our offer of assistance, the Emperor has decided to sent his son ,Prince Jasper to be the delgate to have the discussion, he will arrive in the coming hours

The Prince would be broading a private Nexus 67 airliner that would have two decks for enterainment and other for classified reasons."My father is counting me to do will the Americans" he'd sigh as he look out the window as the plane took off from the runway on course for Lamerika."My prince, you will do well in the meeting and your fathers will be very proud in our fight against the devilman" said one of his bodyguards with a positive tone.

Also a fighter escort of eight jets would takeoff from the CSF Beijing, a supercarrier in the yellow sea to protect the royal cargo to the Americas.

[Stojam]

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerika
Proletariat Mansion

Jameson Taylor was tired, but his presence wouldn't betray that for a second. Since, their drone had been shot down in the Mediterranean, he'd been racing up and down, north, south, east and west, all across the country. For now, the Stojamians had neglected to take any action to retaliate, at least in the sense that any Lamerikan Official could tell. So far as they knew, they still had the initiative. And so Taylor had spent the past days visiting his troops, workers, anything to keep up morale for whatever would come in the coming months.

He was dressed more formally than he would normally be, in a clean uniform, polished boots and straight cap. His face was unusually stern, as he saluted passing soldiers on his way to his office.

"Comrade President." Taylor turned into a corridor, running into one of his advisers, Anton Krol. By Lamerikan Communist Party standards, Krol was a radical. Born in Poland in the Soviet Union, Krol's mother had been KGB, and his father a Political Commissar, having imigrated to the west following the fall of the USSR. He was small, yet with a dark and hostiles eyes that could burn a whole in the bravest PRA rifleman. Even Taylor sometimes found himself of put by the man, but regardless he was a strong asset to have. "Comrade President, it's good to have you back in Victoria."

"Good to be back." Taylor sighed, as Krol began to march besides him, "What have you got for me?"

"Something you may find interesting." Krol growled, "The Fascistisk Chancellor has sent a telegram. The message is in your office, Comrade. She wants us to 'lay down arms'."

Taylor laughed out loud, startling a nearby squad of soldiers, "We face invasion from Stojam and her allies, but they see us as the aggressors?" He snorted, "Swine. I will not make Stalin's mistake, and put my trust in a Fascist."

" The Seryyiok Empire, has also reached out." Krol said, "Seems they've offered to watch our back."

Taylor reached his office, placing a hand on the door knob, "Of all the men out there, and Emperor's coming to help. Fuck me."

Chancellor Rakel Trygstad

While I appreciate your concern for our people's well being, I regret to inform you you seem to be ill informed. We are doing nothing but protecting our own sovereignty from those who seek to strip it away.

I do not wish to send my people to war, but I will do what I must to defend them from those who seek to destroy us. Stojam wished us nothing but pain and suffering, and should they want a war, so be it. We will fight them if we must, and we will be ready.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

Emperor Seriok

I would like to extend to you my personal thanks, in regards to you offer of support to our cause. I know more than anyone, that in our present state we need all the help he can get, and your most kind words. If it is in your intrests, we would be willing to meet with a delegation of yours to discuss such things in person.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

---

Rebel Hideout

"Right." Walker said quietly, almost to himself, "Whatever you guys are, ya'll better be ready. Anyone standing between you and tricky Nik ain't gonna be no Putty Patrollers. They're gonna be fanatics, and they're gonna be trained." He nodded off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, "I'll send some guys to meet with 'em. They ain't gonna be in uniform, don't worry." He turned to look the war dog in the eye, "They'll be there, trust me."

---

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

"Son of a bitch." Alek swore, planting his fist squarely on the horn of his car, as Protesters blocked the road, "Y'all mind fucking off." He hissed quietly in the confines of the vehicle.

"This ain't gonna be easy." Bliznakov sighed, "That's a lot of angry civilians."

"That's a lot of Gulags." Alek joked, snorting a little at his own joke, slowly crawling trying to get through the crowd, which was looking less and less likely, "A lot of bullets."

Bliznakov shrugged, "If we could kill Miroslav without turning this country into the fucking Ukraine, that would be great."

"Hey, Kulaks are Kulaks." Alek stated matter of factly, "If they don't want to change, we'll give them what all capitalist pigs like most." He grinned a little to himself, "Incentive."

"So how are we looking." Bliznakov questioned, "Obviously these bastards ain't on our side."

"A few rebellious kids. Soviet Flag wavers and what have you. Mostly goons. The big guns are the Turks. Let's say they're not to happy about the Orthodox Christians coming to town, raising up the Stojam Flag in New Constantinople. There are more than a few fuckers that want to see Miroslav gone, all they need are the guns." He paused for a moment, growling under his breath as he pulled around and began to move away from the protesters to find a way around them. "That's where we come in."

Seriok would be in his personal quarters in the royal office for the crown ruler of the nation, which have a daycore of the himalayan mountains on the wall behide him, a roll of columns with stories of the common people written in mongolian and han chinese, nevertheless the room would be fitted for royalty.

A servant would enter the room and tell him that the President has responded with acceptance and request of having a delgate sent to his country.

Seriok would take up his phone on the right side of his desk as the others would be filled with important document regaurding the conflict that is happening and some proposals of green lighting the military host war games in the Arabic deserts near the Iraqi-Chinese border line and the Russo-Sino border line in the Ural mountain region as making preparations for a possible invasion of Europe, if the times and storm of the Middle East also naval wargames would be requested also, each of the documents on military matters would be allowed by his majesty and he would lessen the need for the Armed Forces to ask perparation for such things to let them have more freedom in a way though still loyal and very so loyal his majesty's government with the entire government being stratocratic.

Seriok Kuzio would have message sent back to the President telling him that his son will be the delgate with Taylor's government.

Jameson Taylor

Thank you for accepting our offer of assistance, the Emperor has decided to sent his son ,Prince Jasper to be the delgate to have the discussion, he will arrive in the coming hours

The Prince would be broading a private Nexus 67 airliner that would have two decks for enterainment and other for classified reasons."My father is counting me to do will the Americans" he'd sigh as he look out the window as the plane took off from the runway on course for Lamerika."My prince, you will do well in the meeting and your fathers will be very proud in our fight against the devilman" said one of his bodyguards with a positive tone.

Also a fighter escort of eight jets would takeoff from the CSF Beijing, a supercarrier in the yellow sea to protect the royal cargo to the Americas.

OOC: I swear to god, if you try to pull of invasion, then I will void this, it's a COLD war, not a regular war! Sorry, it's just for now....

[Stojam]

Victoria, Vancouver Island, Lamerika
Proletariat Mansion

Jameson Taylor was tired, but his presence wouldn't betray that for a second. Since, their drone had been shot down in the Mediterranean, he'd been racing up and down, north, south, east and west, all across the country. For now, the Stojamians had neglected to take any action to retaliate, at least in the sense that any Lamerikan Official could tell. So far as they knew, they still had the initiative. And so Taylor had spent the past days visiting his troops, workers, anything to keep up morale for whatever would come in the coming months.

He was dressed more formally than he would normally be, in a clean uniform, polished boots and straight cap. His face was unusually stern, as he saluted passing soldiers on his way to his office.

"Comrade President." Taylor turned into a corridor, running into one of his advisers, Anton Krol. By Lamerikan Communist Party standards, Krol was a radical. Born in Poland in the Soviet Union, Krol's mother had been KGB, and his father a Political Commissar, having imigrated to the west following the fall of the USSR. He was small, yet with a dark and hostiles eyes that could burn a whole in the bravest PRA rifleman. Even Taylor sometimes found himself of put by the man, but regardless he was a strong asset to have. "Comrade President, it's good to have you back in Victoria."

"Good to be back." Taylor sighed, as Krol began to march besides him, "What have you got for me?"

"Something you may find interesting." Krol growled, "The Fascistisk Chancellor has sent a telegram. The message is in your office, Comrade. She wants us to 'lay down arms'."

Taylor laughed out loud, startling a nearby squad of soldiers, "We face invasion from Stojam and her allies, but they see us as the aggressors?" He snorted, "Swine. I will not make Stalin's mistake, and put my trust in a Fascist."

" The Seryyiok Empire, has also reached out." Krol said, "Seems they've offered to watch our back."

Taylor reached his office, placing a hand on the door knob, "Of all the men out there, and Emperor's coming to help. Fuck me."

Chancellor Rakel Trygstad

While I appreciate your concern for our people's well being, I regret to inform you you seem to be ill informed. We are doing nothing but protecting our own sovereignty from those who seek to strip it away.

I do not wish to send my people to war, but I will do what I must to defend them from those who seek to destroy us. Stojam wished us nothing but pain and suffering, and should they want a war, so be it. We will fight them if we must, and we will be ready.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

Emperor Seriok

I would like to extend to you my personal thanks, in regards to you offer of support to our cause. I know more than anyone, that in our present state we need all the help he can get, and your most kind words. If it is in your intrests, we would be willing to meet with a delegation of yours to discuss such things in person.

Regards,
President and General Secretary Jameson M. Taylor Sr.
Lamerikan Communist Party

---

Rebel Hideout

"Right." Walker said quietly, almost to himself, "Whatever you guys are, ya'll better be ready. Anyone standing between you and tricky Nik ain't gonna be no Putty Patrollers. They're gonna be fanatics, and they're gonna be trained." He nodded off into the distance, lost in his own thoughts, "I'll send some guys to meet with 'em. They ain't gonna be in uniform, don't worry." He turned to look the war dog in the eye, "They'll be there, trust me."

---

Nova Constantinople, Stojam

"Son of a bitch." Alek swore, planting his fist squarely on the horn of his car, as Protesters blocked the road, "Y'all mind fucking off." He hissed quietly in the confines of the vehicle.

"This ain't gonna be easy." Bliznakov sighed, "That's a lot of angry civilians."

"That's a lot of Gulags." Alek joked, snorting a little at his own joke, slowly crawling trying to get through the crowd, which was looking less and less likely, "A lot of bullets."

Bliznakov shrugged, "If we could kill Miroslav without turning this country into the fucking Ukraine, that would be great."

"Hey, Kulaks are Kulaks." Alek stated matter of factly, "If they don't want to change, we'll give them what all capitalist pigs like most." He grinned a little to himself, "Incentive."

"So how are we looking." Bliznakov questioned, "Obviously these bastards ain't on our side."

"A few rebellious kids. Soviet Flag wavers and what have you. Mostly goons. The big guns are the Turks. Let's say they're not to happy about the Orthodox Christians coming to town, raising up the Stojam Flag in New Constantinople. There are more than a few fuckers that want to see Miroslav gone, all they need are the guns." He paused for a moment, growling under his breath as he pulled around and began to move away from the protesters to find a way around them. "That's where we come in."

Nova Constantinople, Stojam
The Protestors surrounded the car as it beeped up, some even glared at the drivers, something bad was about to happen, the protestors weren't happy of some random people bothering their right to free speech, if they find out about their place of origins they were going to get a hell of a beating.
Red Devil Club, New Brunswick
"Alright, I guess I need to show you around Shane, let's go around the turf, you might be surprise about some things." Said Birdie with making a sing to Walker for him to follow Birdie.

[Ruskland-Preuben]

Deep Underground
Layer Group 2

A man sat down on a green beanbag chair, table with papers slightly strewn at his front, the cold cobalt blue wallpapered wall behind him. A bulky computer was at the left of the door, in it were all the things, unlimited access to the drones, to the nukes, and the containment zone that was Layer Group 3, below him. It also contained all surveillance data as well as military data, not to mention the latest news, from cars raining to nuclear warhead launch, as well as being able to email everyone on the planet, leaders included, how it does it? Not one person knows, although Plotium can be smelled. It had a red beanbag chair complimenting it. On the walls was a picture of his family, a sturdy hanging fridge and microwave, and a highly sterile vent that a man could crawl in, it also served as the dump for his chefs to throw his food, it was connected to other vents as to keep it squeaky clean. That was the right side of the wall, on the left was yet another vent, this time its edges connecting to the floor, and was a bit larger, it had a hatch, which was open and was pointed upwards when opened. This vent was connected to other vents of the same size and the maintenance tunnels or the maze as he liked to call it, this maze, if navigated properly, would led to Layer Group 3 and 1, otherwise you will get lost and die.

The man, who was the emperor, sighed and stood up. Walking to the fridge and grabbing a coke, he would then go over to his computer and read over some news. Cow somehow getting into space without rockets, eh. Man plants flag on a flag that has a flag on it? Whatever. Cold War? Cold War... Oh my, the emperor just noticed this escalation now? How embarrassing for him, he had to write an email right away to who he supported, Lamerika! Who supported them, in that conflict somewhere...

'Whatever.' The emperor would think, and he began working on a War and Peace number of words email, or what he thinks.

To: Lamerikan Leader
Greetings, and I will be blunt, we shall support you in anything against the Strawberry Jammians.
Err, Stojamians.

P.S: A female nephew faps to you

Toodles!