WS: Series One [New Ausozera Only, Archive]

by **Valefontaine** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 12:17 am

THE GAZELLE
_{Southeastern Corridor}
_{SE Imalakia - Ma’athist-held territories}
_{Imalakian State}
_{4/1/2018 - 6:30 AM IST}

A lone Vi-27 flew not far above the canopy of the rainforest below, scanning for an enemy just below.

“I must remind you again, this man is dangerous, people. He’s had no trouble killing hundreds of Imalakian soldiers. He doesn’t like getting chased down, either. He’s going to put up a fight, and you’d better be damn prepared for it.” Sierzant Konrad Lozic announced to his squad.

“A bullet to the head, they all die the same.” Konrad’s second-in-command, Kapral Anna Melkor, was a quick-witted, boyish one. Her unthinking, overly-eager nature to get into combat made her often put 2. Sektion into troublesome situations.

The helicopter continued its way above the rainforest below, frontal turret scouring for a thermal presence. The uneventful patrol was suddenly interrupted, however, when a trail of smoke rose from the canopy, a missile careening into the tail of the helicopter.

“INCOMING!” The pilot’s shout was cut short by what came.

The effect was immediate, the helicopter spinning wildly before smashing into one of many trees below. The rotor was ripped to shreds as it struck the trees, causing the helicopter to touch down violently, crashing upside-down into the underbrush.

His harness was the only thing that kept Konrad from hitting the ceiling of the passenger bay headfirst — though the sheer jolt of the crash knocked him out cold.

When he came to, he saw him. The Gazelle, an associate of the Bull. He wore a simple brushstroke camo uniform and a ballistic vest.

Judging by the AAM-99[1] launcher holstered on his back, he’d been the one who shot the helicopter down. It struck Konrad as odd, in that moment… because it was a Euphemian weapon.

He was still bound to the seat by his harness, and was thus hanging upside down. The Gazelle seemed to be scanning the unconscious troops, checking the ranks on their collars… upon approaching Konrad and realizing he was awake, a wry smirk appeared on the mysterious mercenary’s face. He leaned in, checking his collar.

A loud thud could be heard behind the Gazelle.

“YOU’RE NOT GONNA FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” It was, of course, Anna Melkor, making a mad dash towards the Gazelle.

Without flinching, he turned around in a split second.

Konrad could hardly see what was going on as he faded in and out of consciousness… but the Gazelle’s index and middle finger lay at the base of Anna’s neck.

“What… are… you?” She stood motionless in place, to Konrad’s confusion. Indeed, she had been paralyzed… by whatever obscure knowledge of pressure points the man possessed.

“The Bull taught me many things… things I’ve come to master with ease.” He chuckled. Gently, he gripped her knife by the blade, taking it from her hand. “Allow this to serve as an example to your superior… I’m going to borrow him for a bit.” In a single, swift movement, he slit her throat, pushing her down to the floor to let her bleed out.

The mercenary’s attention returned to Konrad. “Now, back to what I was doing.” He spoke in Valefontene, which perhaps came as the most surprise to Konrad. Cuffing him, he cut Konrad’s harness loose, sending him falling to the floor. Grabbing him by the collar, he began to drag him out of the helicopter, pulling him into the dense underbrush…

/// [VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [3. Sektion] /// - “Contact has been lost with 2. Sektion.”

/// [AUFOR] - [1st Republican Guard Division] - [Bath Company] - [2nd Platoon] - [Charlie “Charlie’s Special” Squad] /// - “Don’t worry about it. We got this.”

The mercenary continued his way through the jungle, dragging Konrad at gunpoint. He paused at the sound of rotors, listening closely.

“Whatever the fuck you want from me, I—”

“Shut the fuck up.” The Gazelle replied, letting go of Konrad. Drawing his AAM-99, he locked onto the helicopter overhead.

WHOOSH

There was no mistaking it this time, it was a clear, direct hit. Whoever hadn’t been killed in the blast surely would’ve died when the burning wreck met its unfortunate end, crashing below the treeline.

Soon enough, he dragged Konrad into a clearing, bringing the bloodied knife to his throat.

“Now, I’ll make an example of you for your rescuers to see.”

Before he could do anything, however, he heard the telltale sound of rotors passing him overhead. Swearing under his breath, he threw his knife aside, drawing his AAM-99 to shoot whatever it was down…

And then it hit him. Had it been any faster, his neck surely would’ve broken. In a moment, he was on the ground, with someone’s legs wrapped around his neck. Feeling something cold press against the back of his head, his life was gone without dramatic delay or wait.

“What in the go—” Konrad stuttered, baffled at what’d just happened before his eyes.

“Didn’t expect that to work.” Bianka removed her deployable parachute, getting up to dust off dirt she’d gotten on herself during the landing. It’d been an interesting stunt, knocking down an opponent whilst parachuting, and then proceeding to shoot them in the head. Behind her, three more touched down by parachute — the rest of 3. Sektion.

“How underwhelming.” Niko lamented, looking at the limp corpse of the mercenary.

“I’ll cut our guy loose.” Leonid immediately set forth to break Konrad’s cuffs — shooting the chain certainly did the job.

“Looks to be clear… our guy was alone.” Adrienne looked to the edges of the clearing, Kb-92 at the ready.

“Where’s the rest of 2. Sektion?” Bianka asked the still-dazed Konrad, who slowly got back to his feet.

“Site of the crash. Should be marked.” Konrad mustered. “...how the hell did you pull that off?”

“We parachuted out the helicopter, pulled chute — I was going to attempt to kill him as I landed, but I couldn’t get a good shot from afar.” Bianka replied, checking for anything of relevance on the body.

Inside one of the man’s pockets, too, was a neatly-folded letter, which Bianka proceeded to open. To her surprise, it was addressed in Valefontene.

“Euphemian tank shipment… Keseto outskirts… looks like something command will love to hear.” Bianka tucked the note into one of her vest’s ammo pouches, then turned her attention to the rainforest. “We’ve got some people to rescue first.”

CDI MONEY FLOWS
_{Keseto Outskirts}
_{Central Imalakia - Contested Territories}
_{Imalakian State}
_{4/2/2018 - 3:04 PM IST}

Outside the monarchist-occupied town of Keseto, there lay a run-down, impoverished urban development just due west. Being controlled by Ma’athist forces, it was a point of contention between the two opposing paramilitaries.

Trawling through the jungle was beyond the question, as the rainforest had been laid with punji traps. The ED-1[2] buckled and shook as it traveled about the ill-maintained road, kicking up dust and dirt as it journeyed onward. The IFV had been airlifted in by helicopter — and as such, they were behind enemy lines. To their luck, however, the Augustan and South Ophiric heliborne forces were more than willing to conduct fireforce tactics to augment their advance.

The road in question was a Ma’athist supply line, so the road ahead would likely be clear for such purposes. An ambush from the royalists was unlikely — they weren’t exactly sufficiently armed enough to make a push beyond their own territories, and they lacked capable planners.

Inside the IFV, Bianka was busy thinking of their next move.

“So, this… M5A1[3] tank that’s apparently been shipped to the Imalakians…” Leonid began, raising an eyebrow at the vehicle that’d been mentioned in briefing.

“The Balthazar tank has been in development since the 1990s, after the 1991 Euphemian-Turmenistanian Border War.”[4] Bianka explained. This was, per usual, another instance of her obscure historical knowledge. “Information on its armor, armaments… all that is classified to the general public. So we don’t exactly know what we’ll be dealing with. Expect a fight.”

“A prototype?” Adrienne raised an eyebrow.

“More like a cash cow the Euphies have nothing better to do with.” Bianka shrugged. “I doubt Imalakian crews will be operating this tank. Probably more of those highly-trained mercenaries we’re running into.”

The vehicle suddenly made a violent swerve, an explosion sounding off nearby.

Bianka could hear the crew’s voices in the other compartment.

“Contact! Enemy AT in the treelines, most likely Ma’athist or royalists.”

The commander opened the door to the passenger bay, peeking in. “We’ve arrived. We’ll be following and covering your entry.”

“You better!” Bianka ordered her team up, disembarking from the IFV. They’d been taken up to the edge of the outskirts, their advance covered by the repeated firing of the cannon at thermal signatures in shacks and huts.

Indeed, the small town of Keseto had been reduced to a battle-scarred warzone, probably from fighting between the Ma’athists and the royalists.

The decrepit, decayed buildings that lined the outskirts were bad enough in perfect condition, and they certainly looked no better half-destroyed by artillery shelling.

The burnt-out wreck of a bus served as 3. Sektion’s first point of cover, as the sounds of what was clearly a confrontation between the two local paramilitaries raged on.

“We’ve got Lakkie small arms fire up ahead. Probably nothing we can’t handle.” Niko peeked to get a glance of whatever was going on ahead. Where would the Ma’athists be hiding a tank, anyway?

“Any visual from the Augustan drone yet?” Adrienne questioned.

“If it spotted the tanks in question, it sure as hell would’ve identified it.” Bianka said. “Either they’ve already been moved, which we’d have known of by now, or it was a farce… or it’s being hidden somewhere in the outskirts.”

The team advanced through the streets, a loud, thunderous CRASH sounding behind them as a technical smashed into a lamppost — its driver and passengers being promptly torn to shreds as the IFV opened fire upon it.

Surely enough, they ran into their first enemies: Ma’athist soldiers wandering the dirt road into town. The only distinction setting them apart from the royalists they presently fought were their olive drab uniforms and proper helmets… the royalists were much more rag tag in nature.

Upon witnessing these enemies, Bianka found the most convenient cover possible: a roadside ditch. With her Kb-92 on semi, she took a few shots at them, dropping them with relative ease. This certainly drew some attention, and so she switched to full auto.

As if on cue, the ED-1 pulled up as more Ma’athists hurried to their fallen comrades, reducing their bodies to charred fragments.

“And what if it—” Leonid paused, glancing upward. A smoke trail rose from somewhere deeper in the town, striking something in the sky with a spectacular explosion. In a rapidly-fragmenting fireball, it descended, ripping through what’d once been a three-story hotel. The building responded in turn with a guttural structural groan, the abomination of what’d be multiple code violations collapsing before the team.

“I can only assume that was the Augustan drone.” Adrienne glanced over at the pile of rubble and fixed-wing wreckage.

“If they have anti-aircraft, then an extraction is doubtful. Unless…” Bianka paused.

“You think that was the Balthazar tank?” Niko asked, curious.

“Only one way we can find out.” Bianka got back up to her feet, leading them onward down the road. They passed by the looted, often still burning facades of storefronts, shops and houses.

She turned around for a moment to gun down a Ma’athist who’d attempted to leap from the second floor of one of the burning structures. The body hit the ground with an ungraceful thud, soon being crushed by the IFV that was covering their advance.

“Not all of them are the brightest.” Niko remarked, taking care to check their left flank as they passed by a crossing.

Gunfire was still raging on ahead, which was followed by a large cloud of dust — another unsightly building collapsing, likely from damages sustained.

As they moved forward, the buildings ahead were occasionally pelted in 25mm rounds from the IFV, as it had clear thermal visual on enemies ahead.

Once again, they ran into another roving gang of Ma’athists — not all of them were armed, some instead carrying loot from shops, be it stolen TVs, hardware, essentially anything that wasn’t bolted down.

A derelict jeep sufficed as cover as the team began opening fire at the Imalakians. Taking care in dropping them one by one, most of the stragglers were bleeding out or fleeing by the time the IFV caught up to empty its rounds into their backs.

The road ahead was blocked — not by barricades or debris, but by derelict vehicles of unfortunate evacuees, their fates uncertain now. This made for effective cover, and an easy means to watch the chaos going on in the town’s center. Hanging from what’d once been a monument to Ygarthene colonists were flayed, mutilated bodies. Perhaps they were of high-ranking enemies…

“That’s an unpleasant sight.” Niko squinted, watching the plaza. The firefight, whatever it had been, had died down by now, Ma’athists now wandering about aimlessly beside the corpses of their enemies and compatriots alike.

“There it fucking is.” Leonid muttered.

“Huh?” Bianka was oblivious as to what Leonid was referring to. Peeking, he gestured ahead, beside what’d once been an administrative office for Imalakia’s former overlords.

It was a beast of a machine, dwarfing any tank in the VDR inventory. Bearing two massive cannons — they had to be about 140mm, it was a beast of a machine. A radar device existed between the two cannons, perhaps serving to guide the anti-aircraft missile launchers on the sides of the Balthazar’s turret.

“So that’s how they shot down the drone.” Adrienne muttered.

“No way in hell we can fight that thing.” Bianka said. “I’m lazing it.”

Kneeling over, she took a packed TV17[5] from her back, setting it atop one of the abandoned cars’ hoods. Activating it, its little mechanical legs sprung to life and its camera deployed, autonomously looking about for targets.

[VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [3. Sektion] /// - “Target has been marked. Clear to splash ‘em.”

[VDRFOR] - [XXXX] - [XXXX] - [Kori Ko-24] - /// - “Hold on tight, coming right up.”

Equipping her AR goggles, Bianka had a clear perspective on enemies the TV17 had designated, including the tank, without even needing to peek from cover. She could also see, through the minimap on her HUD, a flight of Valefontene aircraft on the approach.

In a moment, the tank was engulfed in an explosion, dust obscuring it from view. Bianka kept a nervous eye on the vehicle, waiting…

“It didn’t do shit, sierzant!” Leonid exclaimed, looking on at the Balthazar. Indeed, it had shrugged off two 500 lb bombs as if it had been nothing.

[VDRFOR] - [XXXX] - [XXXX] - [Kori Ko-24] - /// - “Can you confirm hit?”

[VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [3. Sektion] /// - “Hit confirmed — didn’t do shit to the damn thing.”

[VDRFOR] - [XXXX] - [XXXX] - [Kori Ko-24] - /// - “I’ll lodge a request of the artillery kind. Out.”

The tank seemed to be moving, as if to avoid getting struck again. By moving, however… it was getting closer to them.

It had come into view of the IFV supporting 3. Sektion, which promptly began firing — targeting the Balthazar’s radar module. The damaging of the device revealed a flaw in the Balthazar’s armor: a straight point, likely lacking in the armor much of the rest of the turret possessed to accomodate electronics.

As the turret slowly began turning to confront the IFV, Niko took action — against Bianka’s orders. AP1178[6] launcher in hand, he abruptly left cover, aiming at the weakened radar panel of the approaching tank… and opened fire.

“What the fuck are you—” Bianka’s question was cut short by the thunderous boom and resounding dust-cloud that followed as rocket artillery came down on the approaching vehicle, obscuring it again from view.

The silence that followed was cut short, however, as the Balthazar’s machinegun began opening fire through the dust, aiming in Niko’s general direction. He’d already moved by now, but the shots were certainly close — bullets shredding through the windows of the vehicle he’d sought shelter behind.

It became more apparent that the radar panel had been even more damaged in the barrage, the remains of the panel revealing the weak, vertical armor slat situated behind it.

“Hey, man. You gotta do what you gotta do!” Niko was practically shouting, as the terrible sound of the Balthazar’s coaxial MG made nearly everything else inaudible. Sliding the launcher over to Bianka, he also rolled a single unused rocket her way. The gesture was obvious.

She picked it up, loaded the rocket in, and waited… even as the Balthazar’s cannon turned, it made a god-awful noise. Perhaps it was searching for the IFV?

Bianka fired, the rocket speeding towards the terrible war machine’s radar panel, right between its two cannons…

Metal met metal, steel met steel. Penetrating the weak point, the rocket detonated, showering the inside of the vehicle with flame and shrapnel… it wasn’t long until it…

BOOM

The ground briefly — and violently shook… and then it happened. In a sudden, bright spectacle of flame and destruction, the hatches of the Balthazar were blown open, flames erupting from within. Whatever Bianka had done, it’d managed to ignite the racks of ammunition stored inside the powerhouse of a tank.

“By God…” Niko muttered, rising to his feet as he watched the tank burst into flames.

“Nice shot, Sierzant.” Adrienne complimented.

“Couldn’t have done any better myself.” Leonid was impressed by Bianka’s rather badass feat. It was, indeed, the second badass thing she’d pulled off in recent memory.

A second, even more spectacular explosion erupted, sending the tank turret off its chassis, landing not far from the original site of the wreck.

“This’ll be a message to Hoover, to Fern… and to any other Euphemians who stand firmly behind terrorism.” Bianka threw the launcher aside, turning away to walk back to the IFV. All in a day’s work.

EYES WIDE SHUT
_{Redwood Lodge}
_{Somewhere in Valefontaine}
_{Valefontene Democratic Republic}
_{4/2/2018 - 10:47 PM VST}

“And in this far-off land, a game of chess.” Goettczheld began. “The Euphemians have their piece, the Bull… and we have ours.”

The other eight members of the table were listening intently, as it was likely old Goettczheld was going to give them an order.

“Our piece? We have many.” The young man in the electronic ‘smiley’ mask replied.

“The Queen of Spades. Unbeknownst to her, she falls into our plan perfectly. The Dreamraker Project has ensured this… present individual of interest is to be a docile one. Easy to control.” Goettczheld explained. “Case White will be enacted. The young soldier will overcome the Bull and wreak havoc and destruction… and Euphemie will align itself towards war. From there, who knows what’ll happen?”

“And if she fails?” The man in the red mask questioned, curious.

“We find another.”

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - AAM-99 - MANPADS system native to Euphemie.

2 - ED-1 - A Ludzowe Armie IFV, in use with the airborne forces of the VDR. Check the ‘Ludzowe Armie’ WorldWideWiki page for more information.

3 - M5A1 - The M5A1 Balthazar is a monster of a tank, developed since the 1991 Euphemian-Turmenistanian Border War. The project quickly began bleeding funds, however, and was canceled sometime in 2003.

There are many design flaws apparent in the Balthazar that cannot be perceived at first glance. For one, the radar panel used by its integrated SAMs protects a weak layer of armor. This weakness is due to the large, bulky electronics and wiring in that specific part of the vehicle. Due to the ridiculous amounts of fuel the vehicle burns, the Balthazar is also insanely vulnerable to napalm because of its rather large fuel supplies.

Nonetheless, whoever sent such a beast to Imalakia certainly had friends in high places.

4 - 1991 Euphemian-Turmenistanian Border War - The collapse of the South Ophiric Federation in the 1920s left long-standing contested borders between the Federal States of Euphemie and Turmenista. These tensions came to a boiling point in 1991, when Euphemian president V.C. Minton attempted to press said claims.

The conflict didn’t escalate much further, however, due to pressure by the Continental System. Since then, Euphemie has been preparing for a final war where it will reassert its claims. Under the stern leadership of President George Fern, it’s very well within the realm of possibility.

5 - TV17 - A quadrupedal optical surveillance system/laser designator device.

6 - AP1178 - Rocket launcher in service with the VDR. Due to its higher caliber, it is preferred for dealing with heavier targets.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 3:57 pm

Dong, Imalakia
Disputed Territory

The sounds of explosions and artillery fire dominated the ears of both mercenary, government and Ma'athist soldier alike. Dong had for weeks been starved out, and was on the verge of capitulating. Some shrewd Imalakians however had talked Eric and Imalakian commanders on the ground into being convinced that killing the Ma'athists before they could formally surrender would be a more preferable option - mainly to prevent infiltration and sabotage by more genuinely loyal soldiers. Thus, they chose to attack before the commander in Dong decided the game was up. Thankfully for the mercenaries, it seemed the Zhanguean militias in the area weren't willing to give the Ma'athists some aid. The result spoke for itself, the few dead Ma'athists on the immediate outskirts of the town were fairly withered around their waists, and it was guessed that morale wasn't exactly high.

It certainly wasn't going to increase now that hordes of infantry were appearing in the most removed multi-story buildings and streets, shooting their way through weakened defensive positions and eliminating hard points with artillery fire. Some had already speculated that the majority of the town's defenders were pretending to be civilians and had given up their arms, or that they fled into the jungle to continue a protracted guerrilla campaign. If that was the case, it wasn't the mercenaries problem though. Word on the vineline was that after Dong, they were going to secure a road through small pockets of Ma'athist territory as well as Zhanguean territory, and then drive to Ziwago and prepare for an unspecified campaign there.

For the next hour, artillery fire and sporadic exchanges of bullets spread among the town, while the Ma'athist commander was bled of fighting-able men. The previously-deployed gunship came in to act as fire support, and went about the city knocking out hard points and strategic positions. Eventually a couple of men who had somehow obtained loudspeakers cried out that the commander wanted to discuss surrender treaties. The mercenaries and Imalakians gave a pre-planned response, saying that they would only discuss surrender if all Ma'athist soldiers reported to the main square. The mercenaries wanted to see how many men they were really facing up against, the Imalakians were thinking of other things as both headed off to the center of the city.

Fortunately, the Ma'athists actually assembled in the main square and laid no sorts of ambushes or what not. The number was fairly small, though given the circumstances it wasn't surprising how few were willing to appear. Some Imalakian NCOs and Ma'athist commanders went to a nearby cafe to organize the surrender, while the Ma'athists threw down their weapons and were tied up. They returned after a few minutes, and Dong was now under the rule of Kugande. After that, most of the soldiers dispersed, although a few stayed behind to "deal" with the prisoners - whatever that meant. Thoughts of their allies performing summary executions and/or torture aside, it was now time to head back to Analamanga. Along the way though, a Marc Arceneaux had made his way up the ranks. Most well known for being a very persuasive speaker and devout Solist, he was now in charge of about a dozen men and seemed to be on the path of making friends with his superiors. The consequences of this would be seen.

Kabasunya, Kassulo-Mulengo
Underground Black Market

Yves Parmentiener made his way through a surprisingly large crowd. The semi-famed black markets of Kabasunya District in Kassulo-Mulengo could sell just about anything. AK-47s were so common to the point where dealers sold them for pennies. The only reason they didn't give them away for free was that they could still make a marginally small but meaningful profit off selling those. RPGs came through every day, if you missed out on the latest shipments of the AT4 you could expect to have another shot at buying some before the end of the week. Strelas and Iglas were more rare, but if you knew the right people you could acquire a fair number in a reasonable amount of time. It baffled Entrecaseauxois agents like Yves that such a lawless trading market could exist in Kassulo-Mulengo, but admittedly it wasn't even the biggest one on this side of the world. At least tanks weren't sold here, unlike some large markets in Meridian. It was perhaps no surprise that, after some investigation, that this market existed only because General Mbua ka Ngozi allowed it to exist. The soldier turned leader was a peculiar man. Among other things, his list of accomplishments included convincing the nation he had developed a cure of HIV made solely of natural herbs and honey, supposedly eradicating homosexual thoughts, and fighting a war on Ashaian culture that he claimed was winning.

Yves had been for some time collecting evidence of where the illicit products were going from here, and the evidence was damning for alot of groups, most of which were in the war-torn country of Imalakia. But not all of them, though...

by **Empire of Donner land** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:05 pm

Olmar Bay, Imalakia

4/2/2018

"There's only one thing a man can do - find something that's his, and make an island for himself."

The Donnish Military recruited and operated based on one of many ideas, one being of the idea of the Citizen Soldier. A soldier, that when gravely needed, will go from cushioned civilian life to the military to defend the nation in its righteous cause against the enemy whoever it may be. To combat them and achieve victory, for the Council, for the People. All of them had a past civilian life, they weren't bred for war, like cattle with no motivation or reason, or trained for it their entire lives like noblemen that would break the instant the fighting started as they did in the past.

Clarehg walked through the now under construction base on a quickly constructed dirt path. HESCO barriers surrounded them and quickly made large tent barracks lined their paths as various other people made their rounds around the camp during their free time on base. It was busy, nowhere near as busy as bases back in Donner Land, but decently so. Every once and a while he'd pass another person.

Accompanying him was another Sergeant, a squad leader he looked fondly upon by the name of Ijaehg Byrstuh, a friend, besides Inster. They had with them cigarettes, a luxury they were only allowed to use on break. They sat down and leaned back against a tent. "How's it feel," Byrstuh asked.

"The constant stabbing feeling I have in the back of my head that something seriously dumb is going on in the military, or these garbage cigarettes in my lungs you got from that local shop?" Chlarehg retorted then blew out a puff.

"The first one," Byrstuh said throwing the pack on the ground in front of them, "these are the cheapest I could get, I thought it was a good deal..." he argued

"You need to practice your consumer skills then, I can deal with 'em," Clarehg tapped the ashes into the ground. "I don't know, I just don't feel like this whole operation is a good idea. These aren't our people, and they aren't our government, we serve the Council, not these Ygarthan... fools."

"The only good red is one that's dead," he sang a bit, "they're practically suffering the same problem we have with the D.C.L.F, aren't they?" Byrstuh said, offering an argument.

"We dealt with our problems without any help, can't they?" Clarehg offered as a rebuttal, Byrstuh just shrugged and continued smoking. Then he looked up and noticed something out of the ordinary. The Officers tent, which had a metal device next to it containing a fan with a tube wrapping into the tent. "Wait a second, Byrstuh, what exactly do you see over at that tent there?" he pointed his smoking hand towards it.

Byrstuh leaned forward and did a squint jokingly, "looks like us getting screwed over," they noted. Despite the attitude that Officers weren't any different than enlisted men in the army besides giving orders and higher pay, they certainly did seem to be treated like royalty. "Air-Fuckin'-Conditioning, and he said there wouldn't be any for any of us."

"Looks like it's your fault for thinking the Leaders of this Op would suffer along with the grunts."

"Guess so," Byrstuh took another long drag. Byrstuh was a simple guy with little to no want or need to argue or contend with others. He believed in what he wanted and followed those ideas to the end, its what made him so popular with his own men and Clarehg. He came from Nemenjeilehg, which was in contrast to his usual calm warm demeanor. Helped own and operate a fishing business with his brother, but in the 1st Helsan War it went up in flames, literally, along with his brother. Some brief shore bombardment from angry Vanquarians over the Hesefaya Valley had killed around 10 Donnish Civilians and wounded some 100 more. Byrstuh never acted bitter about it.

"Hey," a voice called out next to them from behind the corner of the tent, "L.T is hosting a briefing, we're goin' out bush humping I think," he spoke with an uneasy voice.

The jungle wasn't the worst part of the experience, they could handle foliage, it was the humidity. At every instance, one would feel like they were walking through a gelatinous wall, sweating at every moment from every pore.

Infront of them, down a large incline that went up to a plateau of thick jungle brush covered in weeds and trees, was some kind of compound. They'd been marching quietly for miles, by the time they reached it, the sky was nearly dark with the last few patches of dark blue sky shrunk into the black. The walls of the building, surrounded by a barbed wire fence, were made of rusty corrugated steel panels with holes through them. Not big enough to see into the building clearly, but they dotted the wall plenty. Through the low jungle fog they could spot the movement of guards, in Clarehg's opinion they seemed unusually uppity and stressed from the look on their faces. They were so far behind enemy lines and the intel they received on the place said it was lightly staffed.

The guards were regular guerilla's, apart from a nearby communist faction around the once capital city of Imalakia. They were close enough to the city to hear frequent pops and bangs of artillery and the rattling of gunfire being exchanged. The complex, from the briefing, was said to be full to the brim of ammunition. An excellent target to put a dent into Communist operations.

'Easy target none the less, looks like a couple of good positions to set up a base of fire on the place...'

Clarehg flipped down his Visor with the nod of his head, the Heads Up Display it contained flickered to life. Immediately he had the positions of his entire platoon visualized, among other useful data. Two squads were down the plateau from him surrounding the complex on the right flank and he had taken the left flank with his. Meanwhile, the Lieutenant's team took center. "Lieutenant, send the word, we've got good shots on the foot patrols on our side, they shouldn't be able to hear us coming," Clarehg said over the radio.

"Negative, First Sergeant, we're doing this loud and fast, we don't have time to pussyfoot this place with silencers." they answered back over the radio into his ears, they talked quickly and sounded angry.

Clarehg sighed, orders were orders. he motioned for the rest of his team to remove their silencers. "Looks like we're going in the hard way, " Inster mentioned in a hushed whisper. They all still lay prone over the edge of the plateau.

"Well, getting out shouldn't be hard, we'll get this done quickly and get out just as fast." Clarehg reassured. "When have I ever lied to you?"

"Alright, sir. Fire Team, get that LMG ready!" Inster yelled in a whisper.

"When the shooting starts, I want the Assault team down there by that fallen log," he pointed down the incline where it stopped falling at a large fallen tree trunk in front of the barbed wire fence, "You'll blow the fence using that 40mm GL," the young Private nodded and motioned at one of his men and pointed. Then Clarehg turned to his side and pointed at Inster, "Inster you take the Fire Team to the left of him, find cover and once that fence is blown start laying down suppressive fire at whoever comes around that corner of the building to cover our flank," he motioned to the far left of the log in the deep tree line where cover was easily available, the far corner of the building behind the fence would be easily kept under control.

Clarehg took a double take at his eleven subordinates, they all had their Visors down and were anxiously breathing. Then came the order over the radio to everyone. "Go for the attack, move!"

The next few seconds were a blur as a hail of gunfire erupted from the treeline, sparking all across the metal exterior of the building. Clarehg ran down the incline and so did the rest of the platoon as the advancing fire surrounded the complex. He could see as he ran down the return of fire from the building but as quickly as they reacted, they were silenced faster. Bullets cracked all round in the air, then came the crescendo of 40mm Grenade detonations as holes in the fences were formed. He came to a running stop and crashed into the log in a crouched position, and with him came the Assault Team.

"Firing!" the Grenadier yelled, a loud thump! followed as he crouched above the log and they too created their entrance into the complex. To his right, the 6 man Fire Team began their deafening suppressive fire as they locked down what sounded like the rest of the complex's manpower. "Let's go, squad! Through the hole! Fire Team keep up the fire as you move down the hill!" Clarehg bellowed through the radio, he helped a private up out of cover and pushed the Assault team further down and into the hole through the fence. Following suit was the Assault team, keeping up the gunfire as they sprinted after him.

He kept tabs on the situational awareness, the rest of the platoon was moving in and were breaching the perimeter of the fence. The Fire Team and Clarehg ran for cover on a wall of the building just by a corner. Infront of them came the Assault Team through the fence. The Autorifleman dove prone onto the ground and opened fire as a Guerilla came around the opposite corner thinking the threat was gone. They received a burst of fire and fell to the ground. Clarehg motioned to move them around the corner, he took the point. "Door in the wall, stack up," he commanded and stopped at a white metal door in the corrugated steel. The Fire team stuck behind him, while the Assault team took the wall opposite and kept security on the other corner of the building.

"Sir, no one else has breached the building yet, none that I can see. You sure?" Inster yelled over the gunfire.

"Someone's got to go in first, may as well be us." Clarehg responded, "Breacher, blow it!" another corporal came up running from behind wielding a small shotgun, aimed at the door handle and lock, and fired. He pulled back and the squad poured in as the door flew open with splinters covering the ground. Immediately they entered an immense and filled warehouse. The intel wasn't wrong. Boxes and boxes of war materials lined up to the walls. They walked inside, flabbergasted. Their helmet cams were recording the entire time.

"Jackpot?" A private asked

"Jackpot," Inster replied.

Clarehg moved up to a corner of the massive box wall and looked around the corner, no one, they must have all fled outside. A box not yet stacked upon laid open close by and he went over to investigate it. The rest of the squad relaxed as the gunfire died down outside. He raised the lid and looked inside, they were VAR-18s, a year or older version of the Bullpup VAR-19s they used currently and were used exclusively by the Donnish. He couldn't believe his eyes at first. How they got into communist hands was beyond him. "Inster, this isn't right," he stated.

Inster walked up and leaned in to look, "Those aren't AKs, not what I expected," he picked one up by the stock and looked at the rear end of it, "they've got the correct serial numbers and everything, so they aren't copies, these are the real deal, got any ideas?"

Clarehg got the sudden realization that they weren't supposed to be there and took a picture with his helmet with the press of a button on the side of his head. It was now stored on an SD Card. Then over the radio came yells of friendly fire.

"This is First Squad, Blue on Blue!"

"CEASE FIRE, WE'RE FRIENDLIES"

"This is Second Squad, cease your fire, who the hell is that!?"

"What..." Inster spoke in disbelief, a wave of confusion washed over them, but that stoppedwhen Clarehg had connected enough dots.

"We aren't supposed to be here."

by **The United Remnants of America** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 11:07 pm

Coba Wells

Mieszko, Soren, VDR

4/4/2018 - 03:30

Coba Wells pushed her laptop and closed and laid her head on the case, closing her eyes. It was early. She had work the next day. But she'd been all over Internet forums and news sites, looking at posts and videos.

Wells had decided the world was going to shit. With Imalakia heating up, and that war in Helsa happening, it seemed chaos was reigning supreme in the world nowadays. Not like it mattered to her, it shouldn't matter to her. But it did, especially now. She was supposed to be safe in Valefontaine. This was supposed to be a safe country. But not since the blast.

That blast shook the city, the country to its core. Plus it wiped out the historic district. Coba liked visiting there, seeing all the older buildings. It beat her small apartment and the modern building where she worked.

Where she worked. SysCorp. Wells was just an executive secretary there, but the company was one of the largest she knew of in Mieszko. It was also the source of a lot of online conspiracy theories. She knew that because she'd read dozens.

Coba sighed and stood to wander off to her bed, crawling into the sheets in the darkness, not even bothering to turn a light on. She had to be up in 4 hours. Good thing she was still young and fit, otherwise the lack of sleep she got every night would've killed her, if nothing else hadn't first.

The dark ceiling played out her memories as Coba drifted to sleep. Memories of bleeding Helghast children and dying friends. The memories she had of her past life weren't really any different than the videos she'd seen of just this past day happening all over the world.

Hopefully, Wells thought, those conspiracy theories about SysCorp were true. If they were a globally-powerful corporation capable of toppeling governments, and orchestrated the Twin Falls Bombings in URA, then maybe they could also make the world a better place.

Maybe.

Conan Bilbrey

Olmar Bay, Imalakia

4/4/2018 - 05:20

Bilbrey's dark skin was already coated in sweat. Imalakia wasn't the coolest country he'd been to. A Torian-Remnant by birth, Conan Bilbrey had joined the Remnant Army and became a tanker. But after his time was up, he wanted better pay, and the CPD offered that.

The CPD had let Bilbrey see the world: Azen, most of Numidia, Donner Land, Namenia, and now Imalakia. But he'd just learned he'd most likely be returning to a place he'd already been to.

Bilbrey's phone was clenched in his hand as he hung up. His superiors had just informed him that Task Force Imalakia was to tell their Ygarthan allies that they were packing up and wishing them the best of luck, that they could get help if they contacted the GRCS for assistance. But not them, they had to go. Bilbrey's task force would be meeting with a flotilla in Oenosia before returning to the URA to supply up and meet a larger fleet. Based on some texts he got from buddies in Sishai, they'd been getting similar messages about packing up and leaving their cooperative mission with Cirillia and the Federation behind.

Apparently, they were all mobilizing and gearing up for something big. And whatever it was, Bilbrey didn't like it. But based on how some of the foreigners in his unit currently looked; angry, saddened, enraged... He knew he'd have to go help his brothers in arms defend their home.

From whoever tried to take it. Just like they'd done for him and his home.

by **Valefontaine** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 5:07 pm

This takes a bit of a non-linear format.

CASE WHITE
_{SNvI Safehouse}
_{Lee, District of Ophir}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{4/4/2018 - 11:35 AM EST}

The trip into Euphemie was far from legal. Crossing the border through the vast, unprotected jungles in western Euphemie, their helicopter had stopped at several SNvI safehouses, the last quarter of the journey being spent in a 1988 Pontillac™[1] Firebrand™[2] four-door sedan.

The journey had worn Bianka down, who struggled to stay awake as she waited at the front passenger seat.

“Shouldn’t be far.” Leonid assured her. Perhaps as a change of pace, he’d been the one driving for this quarter of the journey, and he’d also seemed a bit on edge lately. While he himself hadn’t mentioned anything, Niko and Adrienne were also having strange dreams. Could it, perhaps, be a cloud of paranoia weighing over the entire squad?

“Wake up, dumbass.” In the backseat, Adrienne was busy nudging Niko awake. In the past few weeks the team had been assigned together, they’d bonded quite well. But now, they were on their most dangerous mission yet: so clandestine in nature they hadn’t even been briefed on it at base.

“Huh?” Niko sluggishly leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. “We there yet?”

“Almost.” Leonid said, glancing briefly to his passengers in the back seats.

The sedan came to a halt outside an unassuming rowhouse in an equally unassuming neighborhood, Leonid stepping out of the car first.

“Finally.” Bianka muttered, exiting the vehicle. Soon enough, everyone was out of the sedan and almost in a rush to enter the house where they’d be briefed.

Bianka, of course, had been given the keys to the house, and promptly unlocked and opened the door.

“Upstairs, wasn’t it?” She asked, looking to Leonid.

“Yup.” Leonid said, hurrying up the stairs.

Bianka and the rest of the squad followed close behind, curious to the odd nature of this briefing. Carefully, Leonid opened the doors to one of the rooms…

Inside lay a vast array of electronic equipment, televisions, and several speakers. One such television’s text told them to wait, as apparently the SNvI agent who’d brief them was preparing himself…

“I’m sorry.” Leonid said, pressing down on a switch he’d tucked away in his pocket.

“Huh?”

The TVs came to life, colors and images flashing.

“Thirty-three… eight… zero… seven… eight… seventy-four… East of the Sun, West of the Moon.” Leonid said.

To these words, paired with the odd sights and images on the television, made Bianka fall to her knees, her consciousness… fading away.

_{Fiat Lux}
_{CDI Building}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{12:15 PM EST}

“Bianka? Bianka!” Niko’s voice was the first thing that occurred to her in that moment of awakening.

She could vaguely remember going to a house for a briefing… a terrible dream… and nothing more. Opening her eyes, she saw Niko, who seemed quite worried for her well-being.

“Almost thought you died.” He nervously laughed.

“What about the others?” She rubbed her eyes, examining her surroundings.

“Dead, I’m afraid.” Niko answered. “There’s no way we can fight our way out of here. I shot the cameras out when I woke up, just in case…”

Bianka felt a chill run down her spine. Dead? “Do you remember anything that happened? I…”

“I don’t either.” He replied. “Look, we can’t get out of here alive if we’re dressed like this. We gotta change into a staff uniform and get to… the airstrip.”

“Airstrip?” Bianka asked.

“I remember us having to go to an airstrip after we… what did we even do?” Niko shook his head, confused.

“So, we get out of here. Got it.” Bianka looked to a collapsed section of the situation room, where several bodies of CDI workers lay. Taking the clothes from one of the deceased, she turned back.

“What’s up?” Niko himself was dragging one of the deceased out of the rubble, with the intent to take their clothes.

“Don’t look.” She said.

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” Niko answered, moreso concerned with how they’d get out of what was essentially the nexus of Euphemian national security.

Changing into the uniform of a deceased, apparently high-clearance government worker, Bianka looked to Niko to see he’d gotten himself into a rather simple, almost casual shirt and tie, with black pants that’d been partially torn at the knee and bloodied by its former wearer.

“Wouldn’t think my superior fancied ‘em striped.” Niko jested,[6] picking up a can of Spryt™[7] from one of the vacant desks.

“Wouldn’t think my subordinate fancied administrative leave.” Bianka replied.

“Hey now…”

The building shook, perhaps the effect of a gas line exploding further up. The structural soundness of the building was a doubtful topic, so finding a way out became… rather important. Exploring the subterranean floor, they eventually found the way they’d come, soon ascending the stairs to the first floor.

The first floor was likewise a mess. Papers were scattered about the marble flooring, the occasional dead body on the floor. Bullet impacts were littered about the walls, which made Bianka question who’d wreaked this much havoc.[8]

Occasionally they’d run into traumatized survivors, their clothes and hair covered in ash. Most of them were in too much a state of shock to even speak… many just incoherently rambling as they walked the ruined halls.

The lobby seemed even more of a sight, the ornate CDI logo on the marble tiling almost obscured by ash and dust from whatever flames still raged in the facility.

Stumbling outside, Bianka led the way through the parking lot.

“You remember something I don’t?” Niko asked, taking a quick glance at the CDI building. Smoke still billowed out of the damaged structure, indicating the flames still raged somewhere within.

“The blue car… I think it’s ours.” Bianka replied. The greater lack of emergency services on the scene almost took Bianka aback. There were a few derelict police cars at the scene, yet nothing more. It was then that she began to notice the other pillars of smoke in the distance, and the distant sounds of gunfire. What had happened while they’d been out?

Sure enough, Bianka reached the car with Niko in tow, and apparently the keys had been left inside, the car’s doors ajar.

“Guess we were thinking ahead.” Bianka said, stepping into the front passenger seat. In the glove compartment, a KbK had been neatly tucked in, with a few magazines of ammunition beside it.

“That was probably the idea.” Niko began driving, which made it all the more apparent the situation in Lee. The streets were filled with rioters and looters, some of them armed. Bianka aiming her KbK out the window was enough to scare them off from attempting to block their passage.

“Hey, Niko…” Bianka began. “While we were out… did you have a strange dream?”

“I certainly did. I was being chased by… myself, in the house of my childhood. He was about to kill me, with a knife… and then I woke up.”

This certainly struck Bianka as odd.

“Why do you ask?” He glanced to her, raising an eyebrow.

“I had a dream… I was trapped in an airplane, a big one like the 141s[9]… there was a strange teenage boy just watching me… and then I was being chased, by… someone who looked just like me, but they had these… glassy eyes…” She seemed distant as she reminisced on the dream. “...and they spoke in a weird, backwards-forwards… voice? I dunno.”

“How oddly similar.” Niko replied, oddly fascinated by the strange parallel between their dreams.

Passing by the sights of ruin and civil unrest, they eventually found themselves passing through an unfinished stretch of highway — to their sides they could see adjacent highways packed with vehicles and weary evacuees. What had happened to the Euphemian capital while they’d been out cold?

Surely enough, they happened upon a private airfield not thirty minutes away from the inner city, just as Niko had remembered. A propeller aircraft awaited them at the strip, its pilot a typical SNvI[10] spook in a suit, casually waiting beside the craft.

Bringing the sedan to a halt beside the aircraft, Niko stepped out, and Bianka followed…

“I expected more.” The man said, smoking a cigarette as he waited.

“Casualties.” Bianka simply said.

“Fair enough.” He opened the doors to the plane, climbing aboard and gesturing the two in.

In no time, they were in the air, the sights of Lee burning behind them.

/// [Federal Aviation Commission] - [J. Beaumont International Airport] - [Air Traffic Control] /// - “All aircraft in eastern Euphemie have been ordered to ground or face charges! Comply immediately!”

The pilot simply chuckled, ignoring the message. This was the beginning of a long flight…

POST BELLUM
_{Evans Air Station}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/5/2018 - 7:15 AM IST}

The plane ride ‘home’ — and ‘home’ meant a military base in Turmenista, had been a long flight. They’d been forced to fly dangerously low for a good deal of the journey, as local National Guard air wings had become increasingly irritated by the flying FAC violation in their airspace. Somehow, regardless of this, they’d made it back to Turmenista.

She had to fill in some sheets, answer some questions due to the casualties sustained in the mission, and answer to some SNvI spooks about what she did and didn’t remember… all this had worn her out the day before.

Sleep for Bianka had come quickly that day, as the operation was vastly more mentally and physically exhausting than she’d expected.

Today was young, Bianka having just finished her usual morning routine before breakfast. Now, the low, constant droning of the television served as background noise to her idle thoughts.

It was almost surreal, in a way. The first time she’d lost someone, it felt terrible… but now, she felt little more than numbness.

Was she going insane? They’d apparently done an entire operation which she held no memory of. No… were they going insane? Niko likewise remembered little, and had also had an oddly similar dream in that time.

“We certainly pissed someone off.” Niko interrupted Bianka’s thoughts, remarking at something on the TV.

“Hm?”

“Euphemian President George Fern has issued a statement regarding the widespread attacks on government facilities across the country undertaken by the Weather Overground, an associate of the Ophiric Internationale…”

“In light of the tragic attacks that have struck the heart of our nation’s capital, the FSE has little choice but to intervene in Imalakia. We did not seek war, nor does the average Euphemian citizen seek it.

The Weather Overground is a radical Communist terror cell that seeks nothing more than to destroy the values our mighty, devout nation was built upon. They are affiliated with the Imala Action Front and Communist elements in Imalakia. If we are to stop terror at home, we must destroy its suppliers abroad. As such, we will employ a deployment into Imalakia, along with take further measures to enforce peace at home.

With this move, I would also like to announce our counter-intervention in Imalakia against the foreign powers threatening its sovereignty. Additionally, our good men are crossing the Turmenistanian border to finally secure the contested regions.”

Thank you all, citizens… and may Eden continue to bless Euphemie.”

Niko gave a nervous laugh. “Looks like our deployment in Imalakia’s about to get a whole lot longer…”

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Pontillac™ - Euphemian car manufacturer. The economic boom under the Fern administration has caused automotive cities like Rockwell to flourish and prosper with the success of such car companies.

2 - Firebrand™ - A midsize four-door sedan produced by Pontillac™.

3 - Dream - Imagine being unable to control your own body. Imagine being trapped in the most vivid dream… no, the most vivid nightmare.

4 - Weather Overground - The Weather Overground is a domestic terror group within the FSE aimed at overthrowing the government and giving sovereign homelands and equal rights to all the oppressed peoples in Euphemie.

It is an adherent of the Ophiric New Left movement, and thus supports other revolutionary socialist movements in Ophir, such as Ophirica, the Republic of New Ophrika, and the Imalakian Organization of Popular Liberation.

5 - Egzekutor - The Egzekutor is also widespread beyond Valefontaine due to its high power and aesthetic. Thus, bringing a Valefontene service pistol was not out of the question.

6 - jested - Workplace harassment isn’t a joke.

7 - Spryt™ - A certain lemon lime soda from Valefontaine, but bottled and exported to most corners of the globe.

8 - who’d wreaked this much havoc. - If only she remembered…

9 - 141 - The Lo-141 is a Valefontene jumbo jet airliner in widespread use across the globe.

10 - SNvI - The SNvI, or Servizo Nazional vün Inteligentzi, serves as the VDR’s primary external intelligence agency.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 6:53 pm

Coba Wells

Mieszko, Soren, VDR

4/4/2018 - 08:30

Mieszko was a beautiful city.

Coba wondered if all of Valefontaine was like Mieszko. True enough, she hadn't traveled much since she had gotten here. Travel didn't suit her real purpose, plus, she was busy trying to be the best secretary she could be. But Mieszko's sky wasn't grey every day, something to be admired. Living in Helghan always seemed dreary, especially among the severe and muted Helghast. And Mieszko was a damn sight happier than the URA's slums, where hundreds of millions lived in layers of urban decay in Olympia and Twin Falls.

SysCorp was her destination, the building's headquarters was across Mieszko, giving her time to walk and use the transit systems to get around. Again, public-access transportation that wasn't run-down or made you feel less safe than walking was a godsend. Secretly, Wells hoped her post never changed and she could retire here to this beautiful country of neon lights and culture.

SysCorp had actually been the center of recent tragedy and scandal. The last CEO had been found dead on suspicion of suicide. Wells didn't know the details, but that seemed about right. The rich always got the option to kill themselves. She shuddered, momentarily remembering her childhood, where children worked to support the family, usually doing simple jobs like deliveries and repairs on equipment. The new CEO for SysCorp was a good company man, but Wells knew him personally. She was his executive secretary, and he was taking her up to the top with him. Wells liked Fischer enough, but she knew he wasn't just a corporate CEO, and SysCorp wasn't just a company.

Valefontaine was beautiful. But that beauty is only skin-deep. There was something ugly happening, and Wells knew SysCorp was at the center of it all.

Conan Bilbrey

Olmar Bay, Imalakia

4/4/2018 - 09:45

Conan Bilbrey fought the urge to throw his phone across the small motel room he was using as a headquarters.

Olmar Bay was probably the furthest you can get away from home while still being in the GRCS, but the Ygarthan colony-city wasn't a tourist getaway. To Bilbrey, it was the last bastion of Ygarthan authority here, the last defense against the nationwide chaos that had enveloped Imalakia. Olmar Bay had been reinforced since the war came to a fever pitch with various nationalities. He'd seen Porteans, Donnish, and a myriad of others here, which added on to his unit, which was roughly half foreign-born, and only a handful of were actually Remnant like he was.

Speaking of his unit, he'd gotten five different order sets since being here, three of those in the last few hours. It all started with the war those Liverpudlians started, and his orders had been dashed. He was supposed to pack up his troops and head home. But an hour into pack up and chill, he got another phone call. His ships and aircraft were leaving, but he and his troops were going to sit in Olmar Bay, and hold the fort. The ships hadn't even left the docks yet before he got yet another phone call with his most recent call, the worst of all.

They were taking all the equipment they had, loading it up, and going into Imalakia. They'd leave Olmar Bay behind, with no air cover from their now-departing fleet. Orders? Go forth and conquer. The detail in Bilbrey's new orders were to find as many allies as possible and "stop the conflict in Imalakia."

"This has to be a joke. Someone's fucking with me," Bilbrey was talking to himself. He had to call someone, but who? Bilbrey looked through his phone's contacts. He didn't find anyone. Bilbrey dialed his second-in-commands phone to dispense his daily marching orders.

Guess they're going to Romor to rustle up some information. Romor should be safe, being Imalakian government and all.

Right?

by **Tangaliro** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 8:34 pm

I am Chen Wu, Chen's my surname and Wu's my given name. My parents gave me the name of Wu in the hope that I will one day join the ranks of soldiers protecting our motherland. I still remember how disappointed they are when they heard that I ended up in the political wing rather than the military. So now I am here, standing at the foremost front in the protection of our country and people.

My comrades call me by the nickname of "Commissar", while that is no where near my formal occupation, to know that I'm serving a part in the moral indoctrination of our army with my knowledge, I am deeply honored.

~Chen Wu "Commissar", second in command of Alpha Team, Special Operation Platoon, 88th Mechanized Division, TNA

Somewhere South of Nanshan, Tangaliro
4/8/2018
6:00am

Weather: Sunny

Freak is quietly thinking while staring at the horizon from the window of the bunker.

Just recently, due to the sudden aggression from Euphemie, their deployment plan has been changed, the marines will finish off what they started in Imalakia themselves, while the 88th Mechanized Division over the past days has been relocated to the southern border with FSE, awaiting further order from the central command alongside the local forces and mobilized reserves in the region. He is happy that at least for now he no longer needs to step onto the land he desperately escaped from many years ago, but he is more concerned about the perils he and his squad has stepped into with this sudden change.

Since the division has arrived in their position, the whole unit has been on high alert, as the AIA has received enough intelligence to conclude that the presence of FSE forces on the other side of the border is large enough to launch an offensive on the border, should the FSE find interest in doing so. Freak will not be surprised if they will be ordered to deploy in an offensive or defense operation any time soon.

Suddenly, a hand patted his left shoulder.

"Ey, Chen." Freak greeted calmly, leaning rightward to give way for Chen, Chen Wu is the real name of Commissar, the second in command of the squad, while they frequently get into arguments for Freak's behavior, they are actually on quite a good term with each other.

The platoon has been stationed a few defense lines behind the front line, just so in case any side decides to take action, the special operation platoon will not be caught in the immediate crossfire. Freak's squad has been stationed in a large semi-underground bunker with its overground compartments hidden under the disguise of bushes.

"Morning, Sierzent[1] Wen."

"Hows the rest of the squad?"

"Pretty good. Zhong'shi, care if I ask you a question?"

"Depends on what you're asking."

"Last time, when I informed you of our deployment in Imalakia, you seemed to be quite irritated, is there a reason behind?"

"Some unhappy memories about the place, but it will be quite a long story to tell, so lets leave it for later, we are still having quite some work to deal with here, aren't we?"

"Indeed."

Suddenly, the door behind them knocked.

"Come in." Chen answered, opening the door for the man behind, a bulky Turmenistanian man in Tangaliroan uniform walked in, the huge profile of the man dwarfs Chen and Freak in comparison.

"Greetings, Sierzents." The man saluted.

"Greetings, Spezialista[2] Osas." The two saluted in return.

"The headquarter has delivered their next order, we are to pack up and get ready for combat within 2 hours. The details of our operation is noted on this document." Osas reported, and delivered the document to Freak.

"Right, thanks for the delivery, Spezialista." Freak answered,taking the document and begins reading.

"I will go inform the rest of the squad to pack up, see you later, Sierzent." Chen said, walking out of the room with Osas and closing the door behind, leaving Freak along with his document.

[1] - Due to the huge influence VDR poses in the modernization of TNA historically, Tangaliro retained usage of Valefontene rank names alongside their own Sinican ones, the Sinican term for the rank of sergeant would have been Zhong'shi (中士), but Sierzent is used here for OOC reading convenience.
[2] - The Sinican term would have been Te'deng Bing (特等兵).

by **Vacif** » Sat Apr 07, 2018 6:00 pm

_{Cpt. Khane Bo Min}
_{Acting Vacifan Detachment Leader
Evans Air Station TOC}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{2/18/2018 - 2:55 PM TST}

He was late. He hated being late. He hated it because it made him look bad. He hated it because it wasted time. He hated it because it made him a hypocrite. He hated it because it perpetuated a stereotype. [1] Though to be fair to all Vacifans tardiness was almost like a cultural trait. So that stereotype was actually kind of well founded. To make matters worse for himself he had no real reason to be late. His watch was set, there had been no obstructions on the way, no red tape. He was just late. It didn't leave a good impression, this was the first official deployment of Vacifan forces abroad in probably an entire generation. [2]

His soldiers had completed setting up their quarters and had adjusted to their climate well. Vacif was a tropical jungle nation with a climate and geography not too dissimilar from the land they'd be operating in. They were right at home in the heat. The men in question were an odd mix of Vacifan 41st Rangers, 88th Jungle Stalkers, and 29th Special Ops. He'd personally be leading the 29th into the field. They would be the primary hitters with U-50, with the 41st, and 88th acting as support elements if they needed it.

Bo Min marched into the TOC's mission control center, the sight of the fully kitted Anowan soldier made him wonder if he'd missed or forgot some information for their meeting. Were he and his men supposed to be ready to deploy immediately? Regardless he'd just have to work with his unpreparedness. He strode towards his allied counterparts and snapped off a brisk salute. While Captains were often given much authority (In this case managing an overseas deployment) chain of command, protocol and respect were still a thing.

"Captain Khane, Vacifian Ground Forces. My men are all situated in the barracks." He said rather speedily. [3] He lowered his arm and entered resting position.

[1] Vacifan culture is very relaxed and flexible. They understand traffic can be bad, or that things happen. If the party or meeting starts at 14:00, guests will likely arrive at 14:40, punctuality is not a tenet of Vacifan culture.

[2] Vacif went into political isolation in the '60s and has not officially deployed any assets abroad since then.

[3] Vacifan is often a fast paced language, entire conversations can be carried out an what sounds like a brief sentence. As such when conversing in other languages Vacifans will often speak with the same speed of their native tongue.

by **The Enclave Government** » Sat Apr 07, 2018 6:11 pm

EVANS AIR STATION, ARCADIA ISLAND
REPUBLIC OF TURMENISTA
4/6/2018, 18:00 HOURS

A Meeting of the Minds

This was written as a collaboration between The Enclave Government and Valefontane. Line breaks signify swap in authorship; from Enclave to Valefontane.

As the base-wide PA system crooned to life, a message began to emanate from all of the corners of Evans Air Station.

"Food will be served in the mess hall at 18:15. Please make your way to the Communing Area for meal ticket distribution......"

This message was delivered by two decade old sound-speaker systems to Edward, Sierra, Dylan, and Joseph - officially Squad Taris of the Republican Guard - as they lounged around their barracks in the Augustan sector of the base.

Edward started to get up and crack his back. "Well, chow is chow. And I'm hungry as shit. Are you all going to be coming with or sitting it out?"
Dylan groaned and began to lace his boots. Joseph turned over in his bed and said something amounting to "bring me a chocolate bar." Sierra had already been awake, mindlessly checking her phone. She nodded her assent.

Taking stock of the men and woman under his command, Edward took the keys off of the nightstand as the three left their room. Locking the door as they left, Edward and co. began to walk to the Communing Area, known to the chaff as the mess hall. A few too many military tropes in movies lended themselves to organizational reality, and soon ahistorical fiction became eerily close to fact.

Within ten or so minutes, the three made their way to the mess hall and began to crowd around the Ticket Distribution Center. Turmenistan logistics as they were, and the status of the installation as a fairly remote island out in the middle of the ocean, meals were rationed. You got what you got, and you usually got it a few hours later than you wanted it. But that's military life.

As the party began to mill about, a certain individual stood out to their eye......

A certain Valefontene soldier stood by, tray in hand. Usual inconveniences as they were, she seemed quite disappointed with her ration. It was, after all, quite well-known among the CS troops that the Valefontene troops were renown for good hygiene and quality food. Passing by some Tangaliroans, she made herself comfortable at one of the tables... or tried to, at least.

Indeed, it seemed most of the VDR's troops — the new deployments from the mainland, especially — to be quite irked at the conditions of Turmenistanian facilities. Those who'd been stationed with VDR Forces Ophir had already become quite accustomed to how things were, and thus there was a stark contrast between the new arrivals and those who'd been around long enough.

Edward collected his squad's meal tickets from the dispensary, and handed each back to his squadmates as he returned. Looking around for a table, they coincidentally happened to sit down at the table as the aforementioned Valefontane soldier.

LAUDENSLAGER, DYLAN
PRIVATE, REPUBLICAN GUARD
OPERATION ABLE EAGLE

1x Salisbury Steak
1x Hot Rolls
1x Corn on Cob

LORRAINE, SIERRA
PRIVATE, REPUBLICAN GUARD
OPERATION ABLE EAGLE
1x Sweet & Sour Pork
1x Egg Noodles
1x Collard Greens

HAVEN, EDWARD
LEFTENANT, REPUBLICAN GUARD
OPERATION ABLE EAGLE
1x Grilled Steak
1x Baked Potato
1x Steamed Rice

Edward sat down at the edge of the table, Sierra to his right. Dylan by chance ended facing across from Sierra. Sierra, rather unhappy with her mealchoices, quickly palmed Dylan's ticket into her hand and put hers face down infront of him. Dylan being too preoccupied quite obviously staring at the Valefontane soldier, hardly noticed.

Edward lightly tapped on Dylan's foot under the table. "No ogling, eh? Save it for the locals."

Dylan shook his head and leaned back, cracking his back. "So how long are we going to have to stay here?"

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, Edward replied. "Until we pay off the cost of the hawk. Which is probably a year or two's service in this man's army.......

Offering his cigarette and lighter to Sierra, Edward continued. "Someone remind me to get Joseph a chocolate bar from the commissary before we leave."

The soldier's attention was drawn to the Augustan soldiers that'd come to the table.

"Hm?" She glanced over to them, upon hearing them talking in Augustan. Valefontene troops had been trained with the Continental System in mind: learning Augustan, Ofrikaans and Sinican were part and parcel of becoming a soldier of the VDR.

Edward glanced over. "Yeah?" Noticing the VDR patch on her soldier - now that he took stock of it, most of the troops at this table were Valefontane - he spoke nonetheless in Augustan. He was fluent but not yet comfortable in the lingua franca of the Old World.

"Ah, well... hi, I guess. I heard rumors a certain team of Augustans went poaching, on a Turmenistanian sloth no less... what adventure!" She began, making small talk. This soldier was clearly quite fluent in Augustan, indicating they'd perhaps taken some actual courses beyond the barebones lessons Ludzowe Armie training demanded.

Something about her rang a bell, however... word of a certain Valefontene special forces team that'd gone into Euphemie had gotten around, despite OPSEC. The specifics were lost to mystery, but it seemed quite the dastardly feat, considering Euphemie had just begun their bold war in Imalakia — and to a degree, Turmenista itself, yesterday.

Edward snickered as Sierra pulled a tuft of sloth fur from her back pocket. "Yep, that'd be us. Bagged and tagged."

It'd become the talk of the base that the Sloth Squadron was based there - though few knew the specific identities of the men involved. For some reason, the Party felt like they could trust this woman.

Edward nodded to Dylan. "That's Dylan. Girl's Sierra. And I'm Edward, private-in-charge."

"Name's Bianka, pleasure to meet you all." She replied. Indeed, her reputation preceded her. Surviving an embassy siege in Azenyanistan, killing an infamous IAF mercenary whilst parachuting... lots of talk went about. Latest story had to do with a certain operation in Euphemie — one that'd apparently cost the lives of half her squad.

The LAtR-13 patch on her shoulder gave fair indication of her affiliation: The Ludzowe Armie's airborne forces.

Edward tipped his Republican Guard beret to Bianka. "That name rings some bells. What lands you in this hellhole? LAtR-13 ain't usually in the rear with the gear."

"Reassigned to this place after what happened in Mieszko." Bianka replied. It was obvious what she was referring to: the Vaalbarium terror attack that'd struck the city's historic center on the 1st of March — the IAF's doing, of course. "I'd kill to be assigned with VDR Forces Augusta instead... hell, even the Tangaliroans would be more convenient to be around." Being a girl of short stature had its downsides, especially when around the rather unruly Turmenistanian troops. It was almost comedic, in a way, that the Continental System's smallest army was also its least organized and disciplined.

Sierra nodded. “Remind me, are VDRFOR Augusta engaged in the Jeffersonian insurgency? If not, then yeah, this assignment blows pretty hard.”

"I'd much rather be shooting some unruly militiamen than dealing with one of the strongest militaries in Ophir. But hey, maybe I'll get a few medals." Bianka shrugged. Across the continent, VDRFOR Augusta were aiding the Augustans in containing the country's Jeffersonian insurgency. Considering Augusta and Tangaliro held the bulk of VDR forces in Ophir, it probably wouldn't be long until more units got reassigned to Turmenista.

Sierra took a puft from her cigarette. “Fair enough. Guard Intelligence has been picking up increased chatter about Jeffersonians planning something in East Augusta. Something in Pence or Syracuse. Considering the East Augustan regulars have been called up and shipped out to South Ophir, it’d make sense. Whole world’s going to shit.”

Edward nodded. “Euphemie ain’t to be trifled with. Almost feel bad for the Regulars. This is the first time the Regulars have been sent ‘overseas’ - that’s usually the Guard’s job.”

"I hear things are looking pretty bad for both sides on the front." Bianka replied. Word was, an Euphemian force had entered through southeastern Imalakia — getting into direct conflict with VDR, Turmenistanian and South Ophiric forces that'd been unfortunate enough to be near the border.

“From what I told, the Joint Chiefs expect Guard units in Imalakia to be fighting holding actions until the Turmenistans get off their ass. I don’t see us winning this war without more men from Valefontane - South Ophir and Augusta are tied up on the Ophiric-Euphemian border, and trusting Turmenista to hold its own is... unlikely. Augusta can’t really be asked to commit over two hundred thousand men so rapidly.”

"More Valefontene troops are bound to come. That would take time, however... and I'm not sure how Turmenista will fare against the full might of the Euphemian military." Bianka paused for a moment, as if to think. "...regardless, I've got a score to settle with them. Half my squad, killed in action."

Edward nodded along. “Elaborate. What happened?”

"We were going after a mercenary, you've probably heard of him. The Bull. He was going to meet with his sponsors — the Euphemian government. My recollection is vague, but when I woke up, half the squad was dead, I had no recollection of what'd happened, and he'd ran off. Probably whatever happened made me forget a whole lot of stuff..." Bianka was, of course, careful to not mention the nightmare that'd plagued her during the infamous operation.

Edward looked fairly concerned. “That’s pretty fucked. Was it a capture or a kill op?”

"Kill. They say the man's singlehandedly killed a few hundred Turmies during Kalahari. Broke up supply routes while behind enemy lines, killed officers... fucked the Turmenistanian command in that battle from the top-down."

“I heard about the collapse on the right flank. Army War College is already working on a presentation of it as a what-not-to-do for Officer’s School.”

"What about you? You got any... ambitions during this whole war?" Bianka asked, curious.

Edward shook his head. “Make it out alive, score a few medals, go back home a hero. I’m a simple man.”

"I see, I see." Bianka replied. By now, she'd (begrudgingly) finished most of her tray, leaving her seat only to dispose of the tray's contents and putting away the ration tray itself before returning.

"So, anyways—" The sudden blaring of the alarms almost made her jump from her seat.

"ALL TROOPS ASSIGNED TO LATR-13 AND THE REPUBLICAN GUARD, REPORT TO THE BRIEFING ROOM."
"Guess that's me." She began to file out with the others for... whatever was going on.

“Guess that’s us too.”
Edward put out his cigarette, as did Sierra, and the trio made their way to the briefing room.

As the squad made their way onto the main thoroughfare of the base, troops of the Republican Guard began jogging in formation towards the briefing room. A whole company of the Guard had been stationed at the Air Station due to concerns over Imalakian insurgents targeting the F-111s operating out of the base.

On her way to the briefing room, Bianka ran into her squadmate, Niko. He hadn't been at the mess hall, which had confused her.

"Where were you?" She asked.

"Desperate already? I've only been gone an hour." Niko joked, smug grin on his face per usual. "I was eating at MacArthur's."

"...we're allowed to leave the base?"

"This is a joint military airbase, not a prison, sweetie."

Inside the briefing room, they were greeted by a maze of seats, and a rather imposing man waiting at the podium.

Joseph was one of the jogging members of the Guard, joining up with his squad in the back of the room. Dylan handed him his treasured chocolate bar, and the squad took their seats at the back.

Soon, the troops that'd come along had seated themselves, to which the officer handling the briefing — one of the Boers, judging by his patch, began pacing about.

"TOOK YOU ALL LONG ENOUGH! NOT THAT I GET PAID ENOUGH, ANYWAY." Judging by his tone, he was probably going to be redeployed elsewhere, and thus had little disciplinary consequences to worry about.

Edward leaned over to Sierra and whispered, "Ima boor" into her ear, with an affected accent.

"HERE'S THE DEAL. EUPHEMIAN FORCES ARE HITTING US HARD IN IMALAKIA. AS WITH THE TYPICAL INCOMPETENCE OF OUR ALLIES, WE FACE THE POSSIBILITY OF THE LINE BREAKING — YES, JUST LIKE THAT TIME. FUCKIN' TYPICAL... AS THIS IS AN EMERGENCY SITUATION, YOUR SQUADS ARE GONNA BE REARRANGED IN ACCORDANCE WITH... HELL IF I FUCKIN' KNOW. USUAL COMPLEX SHIT. MAYBE IF YOU HANDLE THIS SUFFICIENTLY, YOU'LL COME BACK HERE WITH A MEDAL. I MEAN, I'M JUST DOING THE FORMALITIES. PROPER ORDERS WILL COME WHEN YOU'RE THERE."

The assorted troops of the Guard raised their fists and their berets and yelled Hooah. Standing up, Edward shouted over to Bianka. "EY BROAD! WE GOT ROOM ON THE C-130 IF YOU DONT WANT TO GET SHOT THE FUCK DOWN!" Inbetween the shouting, troops of all Continental System states began to file out to the airstrip.

"Great..." Niko muttered. "Hopefully we get assigned to an actual squad. I don't think me and you are actually capable of fending off... whatever's over there, on our own."

Somebody began to go by the rows, giving papers of squad organization to everyone present. Clearly it'd been done in haste, which meant the situation in Imalakia had gotten ugly for sure.

Bianka had been assigned to — with perhaps no surprise, the Republican Guard squad she'd been talking to earlier. Either it was coincidence, or they just decided to organize the teams based on who was sitting with who, or the pencil-pushers were simply... blindly merging squads in this emergency situation.

"Looks like Fate has its ways." Bianka shrugged, tailing behind her new team. She wasn't even sure of his rank, but could only assume he outranked her — and was thus her superior now.

As air-raid sirens began to blare, troops rushed out onto the tarmac and began suiting up and retrieving their arms from the armory. Continental System standardization agreements made this normally arduous process a breeze. Edward retrieved his HK416, Sierra her HK417, and Dylan his MG5. Suiting up on the grass to the side of the tarmac - it is difficult to overstate the lack of preparation the Air Station had for a deployment of this size - the team began to board their C-130, Spirit of Herrington, along with sixty other members of the Republican Guard and LaTR-13.

"Here goes nothing." Bianka made quick work in finding a seat along with the rest of her squad. This operation was a logistical nightmare, with near-nonexistent planning... it almost made Bianka shudder.

In no time, the C-130 had set forth, on to the hell that awaited...

15M SOUTH OF THE IMALAKIAN-EUPHEMIAN BORDER
SOUTHEAST IMALAKIA
IMALAKIAN STATE
4/6/2018, 20:00 HOURS

After a two hour flight, the plane was reaching the operating area. A Turmenistan Major had clambered ontop of a humvee and began to address the 60 soldiers with the 'battle plan.'

"Righto..... those Euphemian nincompoops are currently inflicting heavy casualties, our job's to flush em out by landing in grid-ref A-"

As he began to call out the grid references, the C-130 shuddered as two Euphemian F-15 Eagles came out of supersonic flight and began an attack pattern toward the C-130.

The Major barely had time to scream before he slipped off the humvee and out the now open ramp of the C-130, equipment and supplies ejecting with him as everything not tied down became a dummy bomb for whatever poor sods were below the C-130.

Edward began yelling to his squad through his oxygen mask. "YOU ALL HAVE CHUTES AND YOU ALL KNOW HOW NOT TO LAND ON THE FUCKING GROUND! NOW LETS JUMP OUT OF THIS BIRD WHILE WE STILL HAVE A CHOICE AS TO WHEN WE WANT TO LAND!"

Troops of the Guard and the squad began to run to the back of the C-130 as the pilots righted the Hercules, desperately attempting to keep it from losing speed while also avoiding the attack pattern. No luck.
As the squad and 20 other troops of the Guard and LaTR-13 jumped out, the C-130 was hit hard by two AMRAAM missiles. Most occupants were dead before the aircraft hit the ground.

That, of course, was of little solace to the Guardsmen and our intrepid heroes who were now falling towards the ground at 40 meters a second.

The burning hulk of the C-130 and tracer fire from the battle provided enough light to get a rough fix on the battle lines - and aim to land, hopefully, on the Continental side of things.

As it happened, they landed pretty spot-on to the frontline. The cracks of firearms and the steady thump-thump of Continental and Euphemian anti air guns greeted the Guardsmen as they touched down, bereft of everything but their rifles and whatever they had in their packs.

The men had little time to take stock of their situation before Euphemian rifle fire began landing within ten meters of them - they'd landed right in the middle of a contested sector! The burning hulk of a C-130 was replaced by the afterburners of F-45 Phantoms and F-111 Aardvarks as Continental air strikes pounded the Euphemian armored positions.

The fighters breaking off, the task was obvious to the Guardsmen - eliminate the infantry before the infantry eliminated them.

Bianka was, in the meantime, trying not to panic as she descended to the ground by chute, flak exploding around her. Though LAtR-13 was an airborne unit, no training could've made her mentally prepared for the horror that'd taken place.

"SITREP?!" Bianka called out, removing her oxygen mask as she sought cover — the burnt wreck of a South Ophiric helicopter would have to suffice.

"PRETTY DAMN CLOSE TO FUBAR!" Edward shouted as he fired over a burning Abrams.

"WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO CLEAR OUT THE INFANTRY IN THE TOWN BEFORE THE ARMOR CAN MOVE UP!"

"Looks like the plan went to shit before we even started." Niko ducked as enemy fire — presumably that of Euphemian main battle tanks — began pelting the village they'd found themselves in.

As Continental BAZ Meshupars began a combat air patrol over the village, Euphemian Tomcats and F-15s of their own began to dogfight. This, of course, was of little pertinence to the infantry; that was until the wreckage of a F-14 came crashing through the village at Mach 3.

Dylan began to point to the sky wordlessly, as suddenly the battlefield got a whole lot lighter - it was a Euphemian sunbeam!

Hundreds of rockets blotted out the starry night's sky as thermobaric hellfire rained down onto the village.

"GET INTO THE HOUSES!" Edward screamed, as the infantry began to panic and flee into whatever cover they could find.

A Turmenistan rifleman shouted out "BY THE NINE DIVINES! FIRE! FIRE" as the rockets began to touch down, covering the grasses in fire - along with some rather unfortunate auxillary Turmenistan troops.

The landscape was bathed in fire, a scene of Biblical proportions.

Bianka found herself in a simple townhouse, presumably of Ygarthene design — with Niko, Edward and the rest of the team. The absolute chaos that'd taken place had taken its toll, as she found respite in resting against the wall, trying to process what'd happened in the past hour — no, the last few minutes.

"Kalahari was nothing like this..." She mustered.

Edward closed the door behind him, as Euphemian artillery continued to salt the earth surrounding the village of Bantu.

Panting, he took stock of the situation.

Bianka and Dylan lay resting against walls, with Sierra and Niko still firing out of windows. Turns out Euphemians are happy enough to burn you or shoot you to death.

Edward slumped down on the door, reloading his rifle.

"Fuckin' A. What the hell do we do now?"

"Judging by comms, we've got Euphemian mechanized and armor just north of us. Good deal of infantry, too." Bianka replied. The sound of gunfire continued to fill the outside air, occasionally followed by explosions that made the ground tremble.

Sierra shut the window from which she was peeking out of. "Yeah, well you're in the fucking army now. Shit happens. No plan ever survives contact with the the enem-"

CRACK

Almost as if on cue, a shot ripped through the drywall housing into Edward's thigh.

"FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

The sight of Edward collapsing to the floor brought Bianka back to her feet, rushing over in a panic. Hurriedly, she dragged him away from the origin point of the shot — a hole in the wall.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!" Surprisingly, she cursed quite well in Augustan.

With her only first aid kit, she struggled to tend to his wounds. It had grazed, but it certainly left a nasty wound in his side.

"It's nothing big..." She covered the unsightly gash with bandages, which began to soak up the blood. "We'll have to get those bandages changed — later. Don't worry about it."

The sound of engines drew closer — it was undoubtedly the sound of an Euphemian M3A4 Mastodon. Bianka, in turn, became hastier in her work to patch up the wound, at the verge of panicking.

"GET UP GET UP GET UP—" She exchanged a nervous glance to the hole where the shot had come from as she tried to help Edward back to his feet.

Edward cursed both under his breath and out loud as he began to lean on a wall and tie a torinquent around his leg.

BOOM

An HE round shredded through the northern wall of the living room, covering everyone in dust and drywall. When the dust eventually settled, it became apparent the Euphemian armor had arrived, potentially to cover an infantry advance. The house the Party was in was an untenable position.

Edward had crashed down back onto the ground after the northern wall became a sunroof. Dusting himself off and dragging his now limp leg into a right angle, he surveyed his surroundings.

"Well, we got two fucking choices. Take out the tank or get taken out by the tank. I'd bet my bottom dollar that once the Euphemian advance is blunted the Continentals will be back in force. Sierra, do you have your AT4?"

Elbowing her window's door shut, she nodded assent and unslumped her AT4 from her back.

Edward's radio croaked to life.
THIS IS HOTEL ACTUAL. WE NEED GRID REFS FOR ARTILLERY BOMBARDMENT.

Sierra laughed somewhat. "About fucking time!"

Dylan unfolded his map from his breastpocket and began to bark grid references into his radio.

"A14! B16! AND GET IT OVER HERE FUCKING QUICK!"

The house began to be shot at by a seemingly titanic wave of Euphemian soldiers growing out of the elephant grass. Sierra and Dylan kneeled, desperately trying to buy time for the artillery strike - until a fifty meter circle of of napalm and fire was singed into the minds of men and the ground alike.

Hundreds of Euphemian soldiers, only seconds before aiming with deadly accuracy towards the Party, were now desperately patting themselves down and screaming in agony as naplm cooked their skin to the bone. Their only concern was to get it off. Screaming somehow overcame the backround sounds of war, and for the Party, all they could see and all they could hear was the cries of broken and burning men. Dylan began to retch - due to the fumes or the scene, no one could tell. Edward put his weapon down before he noticed Sierra beginning to shoot the burning men.

"Mercy killing. And they were trying to kill us too the same fucking way only five minutes ago."
With that, Edward wordlessly continued his fire.

A few minutes after the napalm strike, the party began moving through the side allies of the village, attempting to get an angle on the Mastodon.
This, of course, following Sierra's inital inadvised hail mary shot that damn near got them killed.

Stalking the tank through the streets, they finally had a side-on shot to the beast. As Sierra took out her AT4 and crouched and fired, the Mastodon transformed itself into a warped and burning casket for the Euphemian tank crews in it.

The town bereft of enemies, Dylan popped a green smoke - an exfil marker - in the village center. Sierra began to tend to Edward's loose torinquent as Continental aircraft flew overhead, dogfighting with Euphemian F-15s.

A few minutes after the last sonic booms were uttered, a fleet of UH-60 Blackhawks and UH-1Y Venoms descended on the town. The venoms were marked with medic regalia and the Blackhawks filled to the brim with fresh troops of the Republican Guard.

"All I wanted was a day off." Niko sighed, looking on at the approaching helicopters. The battle had certainly taken its toll on everyone, himself included.

One of the choppers, however, was rather.... unlike the others. One man stood with the side door slid open, one of his feet dangling over thin air as he gripped the rail. He pointed out the squad to his pilot and had the bird set down.

"Well well well, if it isn't the Sloth Squadron."

Colonel Revan gave a mocking salute as he hopped off the chopper.

"Leftenant Haven."

Edward stood up with his back to the wall.

"Colonel Revan" he said, firmly saluting.

"That looks like a pretty bad leg wound. Let's get you on that medevac."

Edward shook his head. "Not without my squad, sir."

Revan mockingly laughed. "Your squad has been reassigned to a tier one capture or kill mission. You're not in shape for that."

Glaring at his commanding officer with a look of steel, Edward stood up from the wall and placed his injured leg on the chopper. "With all due respect, I beg to differ, sir."

Shrugging his shoulders, Revan replied. "As you wish, Leftenant. Get the rest of your men on the chopper. You're all about to learn the price of a mile."

FIN

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Sun Apr 08, 2018 2:18 pm

Near Mugande, Imalakia
Government Territory

Theme Song

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Eric screamed as he listened to the man calling him. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN I'M FIRED!" he said, as the other man tried to calmly explain to him why Kugande had disposed of him and hired some mercenaries from Ashai instead. Eric pressed the 'end call' button on his phone and threw it down. He was now unemployed, and without notice. Was this how things worked in Imalakia? Assets were deployed and disposed of at any moment? It sure seemed like it. He could have expected this before hand, but Kugande had at least promised Eric a few months of payments before they could re-negotiate their contracts. What was done was done, now he needed to think of what to do. The groups only helicopter was still getting maintenance work in Analamanga, would they take the helicopter? It wasn't exactly cheap, and it was in their capital...

A phone call to the capital would be in order. Later. First, he had to break the news to his employees that they had all just been finessed by the most unstable government in the world. He called over a few guys with radios, told them to get everyone assembled, and once that was done broke the news to them. "Thank you for coming promptly! I really don't know what to say, but I have to inform you that our contract with Kugande was just cancelled. Which means that until I find a new contract, you guys are technically unemployed. However... I have rumors that certain people in northwestern Augusta would give us a tempting contract in exchange for our services. Accepting this would come with some consequences. Namely, we'd all face lengthy prison sentences and possibly the death penalty if we accepted it and got caught. However, I think we're all aware that we probably became fugitives in our home country as soon as we allowed Kugande to employ us. I will say this: If you do wish to not take the risks associated with this contract, I will have to release you from my employment, though I will pay you a decent cash sum. Or, you can come with me and make some money! Raise your hand if you wanna take the contract, and come with me!"

About two thirds of the assembled group of around 300 raised their hand. Being a mercenary was technically permitted, but you could only legally operate in certain areas of the world without being arrested as soon as you came back home. Officially, Entrecaseaux had no official position on working for any faction in Imalakia except the Ma'athists (who were entirely blacklisted as a terrorist organization) but it was no secret that all factions had committed war crimes, including Kugande's forces. The men thus did not come on the pretext of assuming they could just go back home, almost everyone who joined fit the narrow sub-category of ex-soldiers looking for a sense of adventure no matter where it took them. Some of them, however, didn't like the idea of 40 years in prison or the death sentence. Thus, understandably, about a hundred of the men refused to raise their hands. Now they would all be released from the company, receiving about ₳5,000 each to pay for a flight to well, anywhere and some leftover cash.

The group dis-convened, to pack up their stuff and prepare for the new road ahead of them. The next day, still at their encampment spot near Mugande, the remaining soldiers listened to find out what they would be doing from Eric. He had already began speaking by the time some of the soldiers began walking to where he was at in the center of the camp. "... unemployed groups of the poor in western Augusta, popularly known as Jeffersonians have put out an offer for external help. We will be answering that offer. For a quick rundown, they want independence because free trade and all that shit has put them out of work. They tried everything to get their government to help, but they did nothing, so now a independent state is their best hope."

He paused. "But. They've scrounged up some money. And if we help them grow, they'll make us more money. If they can start a genuine successionist movement, that will be a win game for us. I've made some arrangements. We will sell our helicopter to the Ygarthene farmers north of here in exchange for safe passage, where we are going we will not be able to take it with us. Unlike say, here, or Turmenista, Augusta is developed. I'm sure they won't refuse a offer like that. Tomorrow the helicopter flies into this area, they let us take it out of Analamanga for whatever reason. We trade it off, and then we proceed to the front lines. We kill some triads, make for the border and cut through the jungles of Gilji to Tangarilo. From there, we'll see. Get packed up."

Kruitboschstad, Imalakia
Self-Defence Militia Territory

"Alright. So you drive into our village with 200 men all carrying guns and expect us not to be wary?" a man wearing a stereotypical cowboy hat with a bandana covering his face said. Eric knew these guys were going to be on edge. Perhaps a bit nuts. He didn't figure they were this impatient though. "Okay, that's understandable I suppose. What, did you expect the object to just come in with us?" he asked. The man pondered the thought. "Yeah, I guess we did." he said. "It'll show up soon. Until then, guess all of us are going to wait for it." he pushed his shoulders up in a shrug. "What, you guys want a glass of wine or something? I have some Ambernac in my car, I had a taste earlier, some of the best wine I've ever heard, I'm sure you don't get good stuff out here-"

"Shut the fuck up, seriously." the man spoke. "You think this is a game?" he questioned. Eric had a knack for witty retorts. "Yeah, I do actually. You have six guys. I have a bulletproof vest and two hundred men, thirty of who can call in a helicopter that can turn everyone you've ever loved into an ash urn. I think I'm the one with the advantage here. So we'll just keep waiting. You do still have the cash, right?" Suddenly, before the man could respond, the faintest sound of rotors moving a distance away came into hearing range. Eric noticed a change in his tone and attitude as he said "Yes." Eric nodded. "Great, bring it out, I don't want to sit on my ass all day." One of the Ygarthenes walked off towards a nearby house as the sounds of the rotors slowly increased in volume. Pulling out the first suitcase, he came back, dropped it and said "First of ten." Eric looked down upon the suitcase.

"Whats in there?" he ordered. "20,000 Leyvals. Total of 200,000 in that shack. As soon as the deal as complete." Eric broke into a whistle waiting for the helicopter, until it finally hovered into sight over the village. Two guides on the ground guided it down to a open square of sorts in the center of Kruitboschstad, where the pilots got out, turning off the engine as they dismounted. Eric and the Ygarthenes looked at the helicopter, parked on the ground. "Is this satisfactory?" he asked. The man with the cowboy hat turned around. "Does it have ammo?" Eric released a sigh. "Fuck you, seriously. Of course it does. Do you like it? Just say yes or no." The man still didn't want to shut up about the questions he had. "Can you-" Eric swiftly pulled a gun out of his holster and shoved the barrel into the mans stomach as he quickly backed up, prompting everyone around him to raise their guns.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked. The man, fearing for his life quickly stuttered out a "Yes!". Eric backed up slightly, and placed the gun back in his holster. The Ygarthenes lowered their barrels just slightly. "Then the helicopter is yours. Now, you can fulfill your end of the deal and tell all your friends to let us through. Got it? Place the money in that jeep over there..." he finished, pointing to his vehicle. He turned step and walked to the drivers seat, thankful that he got his point across and didn't get shot.

Smoking a nice expensive cigar as they finished placing the briefcases of money in his car, he turned on the engine and took off, being near the front of the convoy. Driving out of the village, he noticed that one of the houses on the outskirts was torn in half by a crater. He thanked his lucky stars that the communists couple villages over hadn't fired a mortar at the deal. Wouldn't that suck?

Kleinnijenhuistad, Imalakia
Self-Defence Militia Territory

As Eric's vehicle rode into the jungle-covered town of Kleinnijenhuistad, he stopped the entire convoy to look at an old, rusting welcome sign. "Koen-van-de-Onstwedde-op-de-Wons-stadt? Is that actually what this fucking town used to be called? God, even Kleinnijenhuistad is a improvement over that." With his curiosity amused, the convoy continued moving into the town. The first vehicles eventually bumped into two men holding guns. One of them yelled something to them, Eric thought it meant stop. He didn't speak Ygarthan though, and hadn't yet met someone who he couldn't communicate with using a translator speaking fluent Augustan. He asked around for someone else in his car who could speak it, finding someone who could speak it to his luck. The two had a conversation, after which the newfound translator whispered into Eric's ear: "They know we were coming. They said it's a fools errand defending this village, and that they're going to torch it tonight and run into the brush. Guy just wanted us to know there's Triad about three miles from here all the way to the border." Eric looked forward. "Well, that's not very surprising."

"We are twenty five miles from the border though. Now, that seems pretty odd, if you think about it. Twenty minutes until we're out of this shithole, and in those twenty minutes we could all end up dead. Guess there's nothing we can do but slam on the gas." he observed. He put his foot on the pedal, and got his vehicle and the ones behind him moving. Driving through the town's only street, those two men didn't seem to be lying. There were jerry cans and puddles of gasoline lying everywhere, and people running around occasionally with torches. The town was small, and it didn't take long to be out of civilizations reach.

When they did leave town, Eric decided to give a reminder through a radio inserted into the jeep's console to expect enemy fire and perhaps use of anti-tank weaponry in their mad drive to the border. Sure enough, not even five minutes after leaving that town, some waiting Zhangueans, probably scouts opened fire from the dense jungle on either side of the road. It was just small arms fire, but in some amazing feat one of the enemy scouts killed a driver and sent the casualty's jeep flying into a tree, killing the other occupants. Aside from that, there were only a few injuries sustained from there, it was silent riding to the border as wounds were patched up when possible. In sight of the border, Eric realized his luck. He muttered out "Is there seriously nobody on that fucking road? Props to Euphemie border security, I'm amazed those triads didn't do this either. Or did they?"

"Well, it'd explain the drug epidemic," he said as his vehicle entered the Federal States of Euphemie at 65 miles per hour. The rest of the long chain of vehicles behind him did so as well, and after crossing he ordered the vehicles to pull over for a very quick briefing on what was going to happen. Picking up the microphone for the radio console, he gave a short description of what they were doing to Euphemie. "So, I have had the opportunity to speak with some spooks in Tangarilo. They have told us, that, if we go around the countryside and make life a living hell for the Euphemian forces in this region, they will grant us free passage through Tangarilo to where our Jeffersonian friends are. They have told me where we can get a head start on that, so we're going to head to that spot and begin making life hell for them. Fuck 'em." He pulled a topographic map out of a glovebox and began studying it.

by **Tangaliro** » Sun Apr 08, 2018 9:07 pm

*Mocking laughter* Ah, Senior Operative Zhaoski, that is very kind of you, sparing these little harmless innocent children. These kids will be spared from death, grow up to threatening our state like their parents did. They will launch an attack against the state, and lots of people are going to get killed from it. That is very kind of you.

Has anyone told you that you are a great killing machine?

~Deng Chang, I.S.B. Paramilitary Operation Unit, TNA

Somewhere South of Nanshan, Tangaliro
4/9/2018
4:00pm

Weather: Sunny

It has been one day since Operation Northbound, and things have not been very pleasant for the 88th Mechanized Division, the FSE forces in the region proved themselves to be ready for the Tangaliroan offensive, while it is indeed true that Tangaliroan forces managed to secure a small ground beyond the border, the price for the mile has been huge.

Freak and his squad at one point was airlifted to somewhere near the front line in preparation for an infiltration operation, but after a previous air assault got jeopardized by hidden enemy air defenses, the plan was aborted. Now they are just sitting there watching as today's battle slowly draws to its end. Tangaliro was unable to push further, and the FSE forces has likely sustained their fair share of casualties, retreating.

A pair of LKZ-2[1] flew past their head, likely in response of incoming enemy air strikes, the air wings in the region took quite a loss in SEAD and bombing operations, but the enemy's air wings are not having a pleasant flight either. It's been quite a while after the dogfight over the control of the airspace began, and not one enemy aircraft has slipped past the Tangaliroan air defense grid flying, Freak can constantly see traces left by missiles flying toward incoming enemy ground attack aircraft, lines of flares, and sometimes the smoke of downing aircraft through his binoculars, in a way, it was quite a bizarre sight. According to a few soldiers returning from the front line, their biggest adversary was not enemy air strikes, but rather Euphemian artillery.

While Freak feels sorry for those who had to go through the hellish experience of getting shelled, it is none of his business. The central command dispatched an ISB paramilitary operation unit to the front line, and the Alpha Team is ordered to work with them on a special mission. The P.O.U. is standing right in front of them right now.

"Well, well, guess who's here." Freak said, looking at his new colleague, Deng Chang, he doesn't like this guy. Rumors say that the man has a record of morally questionable behavior[2], whether it is true or not, the business smile on his face still creeps him out.

"The name's Deng Chang, Sierzent, it is an honor to be able to work with you, I have heard about your courageous and noble acts, and have been looking forward to meet you in person since then." Deng said, extending his hand, still with a smile on his face.

Freak didn't shake his hand. Normally, Chen Wu would intervene on such impolite behavior, but this time, he just quietly stands by.

"Your infamy precedes you. I am neither interested in knowing the truth behind nor commenting on the rumors about you, but since we are going to work together, I wish us a good time cooperating."

"Very well."

"Well, what is our job here?"

"To kill, as usual, but this time, the target is a bit more...specific. It's not the best place to talk here, please follow us, we can talk on our way." Deng said, pointing toward a pair of TX-44[3] nearby.

"Fair."

The helicopters took off after the team boarded, leaving the battlefield behind them.

"So, who is the target?" Chen Wu asked.

"I'm sure being here long enough, you probably have already heard about the man who goes by the code name of The Bull."

"Indeed." Chen nodded, putting his rifle aside.

"He will be our target."

"The Bull, huh? He'll be The Beef by the end of this." Freak interrupted.

"Sierzant, mind your manner." Chen reminded, frowning upon the rude interruption of Freak.

"Right, right."

Deng continues.

"I adore your bravery, sierzent, but my advice is to not underestimate him. He is a well-seasoned soldier."

"Great, he is ready to be served on a plate." Freak once again teased.

"Ahem."

"Right, right."

"Our Valefontene comrades have dispatched a team to hunt for the man a while ago, half of them didn't come back."

"I'll ensure that doesn't happen to us."

"Then I wish you best of your luck." Deng nodded, still with his iconic business smile on his face.

"Are we straightly going in now?"

"No, no, of course not, we will need some preparation for the hunt. We think that it is best if you get acquire some information about the target from the head of the squad in the previous attempt before we go."

"And the person is?"

"Sierzant Bianka Ziekowski of the VDR Ludzowe Army, I'm sure you have heard of her."

[1] - LKZ-2, or Lianhe-Kongzhong-Zhandouji(联合-空中-战斗机)-2, is a product of CS joint fighter program, the reason behind CS adapting the Sinican code name of the program is yet to be known.

[2] - Rumors say that Deng Chang has had records of unethical practice during his participation in the crackdown of political extremists during early martial law period, such as black prison, unethical interrogation and unlawful execution. However, the most notorious of them all is the execution of two unarmed children during an extremist group hideout raid. Rather they are true is yet to be known, but the resignation of over half of his squad after the operation and ISB's intentional suppression of his promotions makes it more believable. Nonetheless, the man is kept in his position, though shunned by everyone else but his loyal grunts.

[3] - Tangaliroan licensed production version of VDR's Vi-44.

by **Free Asian Ports** » Sun Apr 08, 2018 10:10 pm

Two: The Spider Spots a Fly

Erebus, Vaal
Valefontene Democratic Republic
25 February 2018, 1:04 PM VST

Ritsuko took a sip of her tea and tried her best to look like a tourist as much as possible. Among other things, pretending to be a tourist was a classic spy move. Ignorant foreigners in a big city were hardly an uncommon sight, so theoretically if someone as distinctively foreign as a Portean in Valefontene wanted to hide they’d do it like this. A blouse from a local brand, jeans brought from home, new shoes that a shopper would walk all day in, and a pair of shades helped Ritsuko look the part. The acting was the difficult part. Observing local police movements and staring too long at government buildings or politicians gave one away pretty fast to counter-intelligence agents. Acting tough when confronted by thugs also drew attention. Even though Ritsuko had a suppressed handgun loaded with subsonic armor-piercing rounds stuffed down her pants, she was loathe to use it. As the ambassador had said, going around blowing off the heads of whichever meathead looked at her wrong was not going to earn the respect of the locals. Landing herself in a police station interrogation room won’t help either. She was a spy, not an assassin.

Well, assassination was in her job description. The list of important men she’s killed is not short. Killing just wasn’t her objective right now. Which irked Ritsuko. Two weeks on mission and not one dead body to show for it. It wasn’t that she enjoyed killing, she wasn’t a psychopath. It was just her purpose. II Corps was the offensive operations part of FIA’s Special Activities Division. Killing, arming rebels, staging atrocities, actually committing them, etc. were all in their playbook. Sneaking around a foreign nation was a I Corps job. If a II Corps operative was doing something in a foreign nation that wasn’t overt war, it was just flat out killing enemy intelligence agents. So what was Ritsuko doing tracking down some girl with dubious connections with Union nobility? She understood the implications, the girl’s potential for leverage either against the larger Union or even the FAP specifically was fairly clear. What she couldn’t understand was why they were sending a human killing machine to do it. Manpower shortages? She doubted that. Organization changes? This was more likely, a change of strategy for the traditionally autonomous SAD would mean new roles for existing operatives. She wasn’t going to argue that, she would merely point out the difference in skill. She was a blunt instrument, a tool used to erase an enemy outright. I Corps might’ve hired a few locals to do it. Briefly, she wondered how much would be enough to pay off a local to do simple observation and reporting. What would the cost be to buy a turncoat? This train of thought was broken by a waitress. The café was obviously a tourist trap, Ritsuko could see people of many nationalities here to sample the wares of a modest restaurant with good reviews on a travel website. It was in the middle of a busy square and was right next to a hub of public transport close to the airport. The tea wasn’t bad, but hardly a landmark of the city. The waitress was asking if she wanted more tea, but Ritsuko politely declined and asked for the check. She could probably spend all day here but that was hardly fitting for someone hoping to avoid notice. Tourists tended to visit multiple attractions, after all. For a moment, Ritsuko wondered if in reality her mission was a vacation. She certainly had a history of declining the use of her vacation days, so she wondered if she had been deliberately handed an easy assignment in a manner of forcing her to take a break. That sat ill with Ritsuko, as she’d much rather spend that time with her sister of her own accord.

As Ritsuko walked the streets of Erebus, she considered for a moment the people who lived here. Whenever a Portean, especially one with a job like Ritsuko’s, ever thought of the VDR, they always imagined the events laid out in textbooks. A violent Communist revolution, an authoritarian regime, the current system of quasi-socialism and an apparent unclear devotion to democracy. A Portean tourist might ask a local questions of what they thought of their government or their foreign policy. The fact was, as Ritsuko knew from experience, was that the locals hardly cared. To them, their life was normal. Few, if any, would ever travel to the FAP to see what life was like where people spoke a different language, chose their leaders a different way, or had a different attitude towards the military and overseas ventures.

Ritsuko wasn’t a fool. She knew very well all that was important to their fate whether they thought about it in the shower or not. Suppose the nearby shopkeeper at a convenience store didn’t bother to watch the news. Would it matter to him that his country’s service members were risking their lives to keep him from a worse fate than taxes? Would it matter to him that his government, the people he votes for, have different agendas? Would it even matter to him that a foreign spy, standing not a few meters away from his doorstep, was doing her part in a hidden game of shell games and violence? Likely not. She was used to that. What mattered to her was that the job got done. That was how she was raised. Even her eccentric sister understood, though she couldn’t be blamed as she, too was in this line of work. Well, now that she was in Imalakia with a new uniform she was. Ritsuko wondered if she would get sent to Imalakia, too. Then again, this gig was a forced vacation. If anything, her superiors wanted her to take it easy. Back to the embassy, then…

1 km of the coast of Dong
Dong, Western Imalakia
Imalakian State
28 February 2018, 11:30 AM IST

Kimiko took a gulp of air as she yawned, then immediately regretted it as sea spray splashed into her mouth. She gagged as the sea water left a bitter-salty taste in her mouth, and just about coughed her way through the radio operator’s report. “You alright, Cap?” she asked, a little worried. “It’s nothing, just a bit of spray. Shit, the water here tastes bad. Blech” coughed Kimiko in response. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to stick her torso out the hatch of the BTR. On top of the sea spray, there was the complete lack of protection. Then again, Kimiko never really cared for that kind of thing. The inside of the vehicle was cramped, anyways. Her radio operators and their equipment took up what would’ve been the troop compartment on a normal BTR, her first sergeant was busy lecturing the crew about discipline while she herself was ready to puke again, and mountains of gear made moving about the inside the already small interior of the BTR. So it wasn’t strange that Kimiko had stuck herself outside the vehicle while it swam to shore. A few minutes ago, they were on board the Kaiyohime Maru, the company seeing to their vehicles while Kimiko briefed the platoons and support sections. They weren’t simply going to just find a pier from which they could offload their vehicles in Imalakia. The entire country was to be considered hostile, and it wasn’t as if a port in all of Imalakia could even handle Kaiyohime Maru. Therefore, it was decided that a combat landing by the force would be undertaken using the amphibious capability of their armored vehicles, swimming to shore and engaging any enemy forces while the mercenary group assembled for their expedition.

“Ma’am, the spook is on the line from Vehicle 2. He apparently has a command suggestion” said the radio operator again. Eagle evidently had something to say about the way Kimiko was executing the operation. “Alright, put me on” she ordered while she started to work her way back into the hatch. The interior seemed even more claustrophobic than Kimiko remembered a scant few minutes ago. The bobbing and rolling of the BTR certainly didn’t help. Not a moment after she sealed the roof hatch behind her, Kimiko felt a pack hanging from the roof gently bump into her head. Batting the pack aside, she turned to her seated radio operators and gestured for a headset. The operator handed her one with a face of displeasure. Apparently Eagle was being needy. “What is the reason you decided to bother my radiomen?” asked Kimiko as soon as she had the headset to her ear. Eagle seemed taken aback for a moment from Kimiko’s unfriendly opening question. “Nothing especially important, I hope. If we’re performing and amphibious assault, shouldn’t we be laying down some covering fire?” radioed Eagle. Kimiko skulked and rolled her eyes at the understanding crew of the vehicle. Typical civilian. “First off, don’t use comms if its’ not important. This channel is to be left open for company-wide communications. Don’t pester my radio operators for this line again. Second of all, we’re not likely going to face opposition on landing. I don’t want to waste ammo before the journey ahead” she lectured, angrily. Eagle remained silent for a moment, Kimiko liked doing that to spooks, before he spoke up again. “There will be plenty of ammo in Imalakia, I understand they use the same 15mm ammo we use for our BTRs-“ he managed before Kimiko cut him off. “I mean we don’t want to waste the good ammo. Odds are, the stuff they have in Imalakia aren’t up to snuff. I’m not using it up suppressing some fishermen and old ladies. Vehicle 1 out” hung up Kimiko.

Frustrated, Kimiko sunk into her seat. Sergeant Takeda leaned over to her to offer words of encouragement. “Just so ya know, we had to deal with spooks, too. Don’t worry, give it a few ours in the shit and he’ll keep his lid shut until the op ends” she said, hoping to assuage Kimiko. Sighing, Kimiko gave a grim response. “Mounties aren’t spooks, and I doubt this guy is gonna shut up any time soon. He seems to be pretty seasoned as far as II Corps agents go. We’re stuck with him for a while yet”. At this, Takeda frowned. “Well he’d better not fuck with our ops again, the last thing we need is a backseat general” she grumbled before turning to the vehicle crew to pester them about preparing to hit the beach. Kimiko got ready to pop the hatch again, but this time took her rifle off its mounting hook. It was an older GAU-5, rather different from the Howa 89 she used to use, but it was familiar since it was the same platform as the Type 65 she used before the Army forced the 89 on a begrudgingly standardizing Marine Corps. As much as she knew that excessive force was unnecessary here, it didn’t hurt to bring along a gun to scare off any local dumb enough to challenge the landing mercenaries. Slapping in a 30 round mag, she charged the cocking handle and pushed open the hatch to the outside world.

The sea spray came back into Kimiko’s face as she got back her view of the coastline and the force of BTRs pushing ahead. In front of her was three platoons of mounted infantry and a mortar section. Behind her were several landing craft carrying VBLs and a couple trucks with the supplies they’d need for the coming weeks. The landing craft would return to the amphibious assault ship after the landing party finished dismounting. No sense in securing the village. At this speed, they’d hit the beach in just a couple minutes. Kimiko brought up the headset to the company comms with her and sent out a company-wide order. “All sections, prepare to land. No anticipated defenders, but keep your eyes peeled. First and second Platoons will form a perimeter around the landing site while we offload the support sections. You are weapons free on anybody that pulls a gun on you. Prepare to take and hold Dong!” she ordered before signing off. It was only a moment after she put down the headset that she realized how suggestive that was. Quietly, she hoped nobody thought of that. That wasn’t going to change much, she figured.

Second Platoon’s vehicles hit the beaches first, their hulls bouncing up as they drove up the sand and rock. First and Third platoons followed, while Kimiko’s command section and the mortar section came last. As Kimiko jumped off the roof of her vehicle, she could see the infantry platoons do the same as they moved out to secure the perimeter. A handful of huts dotted the shoreline, mainly occupied by confused onlookers who were obviously concerned about this new development. Likely, a local army had moved through their village previously and they worried over how this change in power would affect their daily lives. Elders and children looked on as squads moved through the collections of huts while BTRs followed. They had secured about 50 yards inland from the landing point when they came to a halt and checked in with Kimiko. Eagle was walking up to her while she ordered third squad to keep the locals in line and help unload the landing craft that were just now dropping their ramps. “Mighty fine work, you were right. Only old ladies and small children. Hard to believe they managed to screw their country up this much…” he trailed off, adjusting his belt. His sidearm was holstered, he obviously felt safer with Kimiko’s mercenaries doing the hard work. Kimiko grunted, unamused. “You can drop the act, I know you’re a salty spook. You know damn well that there aren’t any men or boys here because they’re either dead or recruited into a local army. This place is desolate” corrected Kimiko. They weren’t going to find anything useful here.

“So, what are we gonna do about that?” asked Eagle, now impatient. The landing craft had dislodged their load of vehicles and were being prepared to return to the Kaiyohime Maru. The whole operation had taken less than 5 minutes. “Do you know where the Communists, are? We can start there” she responded, hefting her rifle. Eagle grinned, apparently back to his old self at the prospect of being needed for something. “As a matter of fact, there’s a pocket of fighters to the northeast of us. A village called Mugande, not big but it’s the center of an IAF stronghold according to our sources. That’s also really close to the route we think a few drug cartels take to ship their product throughout South Ophir” he reported matter-of-factually. “Good, we’ll start there…” said Kimiko, moving out to meet with her Lieutenants.

Interregnum
State Apartment Bloc No. 418, Mieszko
Soren, Valefontene Democratic Republic
8 March 2018, 8:40 AM VST

"You know, everywhere I fuckin' go... 'Queen of Spades' this, 'Queen of Spades' that." An MvH agent led Ritsuko to the lobby of the apartment bloc, where, had his knowledge of her typical schedule been right, their... person of interest would be around in no time. He was Lukas Horak, an unassuming agent of the Ministeria who'd been assigned to ensure the general safety — and continued observation of the Queen of Spades, the code-name for a certain active-duty VDR airborne soldier... Bianka Ziekowski. He had many questions about how, what, and why she was important, or why a spook from one of the Union's affiliates was likewise intrigued — but he'd learned since childhood not to question things. Pausing at the lobby, he waited at the counter — not to make small talk with the cute girl at said counter, but rather to wait with his apparent friend...

"Now, you might be askin' ... why are we at the lobby when we can be at her front door? Well... she's got a friend at her place — or fuckbuddy, I wouldn't know the nature of their relationship, I'm not... THAT into violating people's privacy. All I know is he's a civvie, and when you're working with me, we don't do things that might... potentially confuse outsiders." Lukas added, in Portean, to Ritsuko. At this hour, the lobby was in its usual near-vacant state. Had they perhaps come at a later time, it would've been uncomfortably busy.

Ritsuko rolled her eyes. The attitude of Lukas was beginning to grow tiresome. He seemed either unaware of her position and typical tasks or too arrogant to heed the danger of getting on Ritsuko's bad side. He certainly seemed to be a womanizer, given his apparent infatuation with the clerk. She followed him into the lobby nonetheless, wishing to continue the mission rather than engagee in pointless banter. "We'll deal with him when we get there, if need be. Unless you want to take a more sublte approach". Ritsuko's eyes flicked around the room, instantly analyzing the lobby. There were no threats here, but she kept her suitcase in a firm grip. Its contents, she hoped, would help her complete her mission, at any cost.

Lukas seemed to pause for a moment, quietly scrolling through his uPhone™. As unassuming as it looked, he was actually listening for footsteps... distant at first, but gradually approaching. Squinting at the clock on his phone, he noted she'd come along just about now... darting his eyes to one of the doors — which led to the rather vast maze of apartments, he waited. He steadied his breathing as he subtly eyed the door, watching the knob slowly turn. It was the janitor, minding his usual business as he hauled his cart of cleaning materials with him. God damn it! He continued waiting. The girl at the counter had since gone back inside, as it seemed to be a slow day anyway — all the better. Much to his dismay, he continued waiting... his ears honing in on a second set of footsteps, coming from the corridor... the door's knob turned again, opening to reveal a rather short girl wearing a pink Macrosse™ jacket. This was the one. "Good day," He glanced over to her, flashing his MvH badge. "Lukas Horak, MvH. Mind coming outside with us for a moment?" Bianka paused for a moment, tensing up as she noted the woman standing beside him. She was oddly familiar, almost as though she'd seen her before... in Aura, wasn't it? "N-no problem." Bianka answered. What'd she done to warrant the spooks' attention this time?

Ritsuko calmly stared Bianka down. The girl had some answering to do for leading her on a wild goose chase ever since Aura. She hoped this time though she would get some honest answers. "I'm sure you remember me, but for posterities' sake I'll introduce myself again. Nanasawa Ritsuko, FIA. You have some questions to answer..." she said, leading Bianka outside

"Certainly..." Bianka answered, a bit unnerved by the suddenness of the affair. Lukas led them to his vehicle, an imported Pontillac™ Fierro sedan — its paintscheme jet black, a common style for MvH vehicles. Getting in the driver's seat, he gestured them inside. The MvH agent certainly was paranoid about outsiders listening in on their conversation.

Ritsuko gestured for Bianka to get into the back seat, waiting for her to get inside before sitting in the passenger seat herself. Once inside, she ensured all the windows were up. Like Lukas, she was somewhat paranoid about secrecy. The situation had escalated in the past week, which is why she presumed she was finally getting acess to Bianka in the first place after such a long wait. "You lied to me, in Aura. You know I don't like being lied to. I can understand if you were ignorant, but the facts seem to be adding up here. I'd like to you be honest with me, right now. What do you know about your status as Queen of Spades?" There would be no trick questions or clever cover stories. Ritsuko wanted the facts, now.

"A distant member of the Union royal family." Bianka replied. It was clear to her that feigning ignorance wouldn't get her any further. "I— I don't know how distant, but... you know how it was at the Esgonian consulate, back in Aura."

"I'm aware of that much, the MvH was very helpful there. For now, that seems to be the extent of Union involvement here" noted Ritsuko. She wasn't sure if Bianka knew that, but it didn't help to reinfoce that the cards were in Ritsuko's hands now. A shoutout to the MvH didn't hurt, either. "Surely you see our problem? Your relationship with the Union is not that important, but should a certain unlikely chain of events were to bring you closer it would be a terrible embarrassment if we were not in control. In short, the issue is leverage. We don't want you to be leverage against us. So, we've reached a compromise with the VDR..." Ritsuko set the suitcase down on the center console between the driver and passenger seats. The black leather case was undeniably ominous, and it was obviously quite heavy.

Lukas gave a wry smirk in the front seat, casually listening in on the conversation occurring behind him. The Porteans certainly were full of surprises, and this was one of them. "..?" Bianka eyed the suitcase, suspicious of whatever lay within.

Ritsuko used a key to unlock the case. The padding was heavy duty, a strongbox designed not to be broken. As the case opened up, a glint of light caught the contents and lit the surroundings with a faint yellow hue.
Inside lay several bricks of gold, neatly stacked and well insulated so that the contents did not shift in transit

Bianka was almost baffled at the sight. "You're paying me to...?" She could hardly muster a sentence, awestruck at what was certainly worth thousands — no, millions of Valets.

"We're paying you to keep quiet. The terms are simple, and the agreement is verbal. But I'm going to make it clear that it remains binding. This case contains approximately 2 million Valets worth of gold, along with documents you may use to obtain a few free trips to the FAP. All tax free, of course. In exchange, you must agree not to participate in any operations or government policies designed to use your relation to the Union's nobility against either the Union in general or the FAP specifically. Additionally, you may not inform anybody of your relationship with the Union. Are these agreeable terms?"

"O-of course! I would never... thank you!" She nodded, accepting of the deal.

Ritsuko snapped the case closed and set the key on top of it. Ritsuko leaned back in the passenger seat quietly relieved that this part of the interview was over. "I'd like you to know we never actually considered you would squawk in the first place. This was merely insurance. We'd prefer you as an ally, rather than an enemy. Or worse, a neutral party. That said, I don't think our business together is over. I had hoped to finish this deal last month, but the attack has changed the situation..." Ritsuko trailed off

Bianka paused at the mention of the terrorist attack from a week prior. She and Maltt had almost gotten themselves killed back there... "I— I was there, I saw it happen." Deep down, she suspected the nature of the attack itself. How did an Imalakian terror group get their hands on Vaalbarium? Much less, how'd they learn to make an explosive device with the substance?

Ritsuko watched in the rear view mirror for a moment as she observed Bianka recall the attack. The girl seemed a little naive, so it was hardly surprising that something like this would so shake her. But Ritsuko didn't need a victim right now. "Three days ago, a Letzbourgish Army infantry patrol near the Letzbourg-Lotschen border was ambushed by a group of smugglers. They were victorious with minimal casualties, and uncovered a significant cache of weapons. The ledger captured with the weapons listed their destinations. This included Imalakia, as well as the FAP. Among the weapons captured was components for manufacturing bombs. This included about 10 kilos of Vaabarium. Working with MvH, we traced it back to the warehouse you raided not long ago. This problem is evidently spreading fast. Therefore, the FIA has seen fit to intervene."

"I... I see." Bianka nodded. Looking around a bit hesitantly, she continued. "Well... can I go home? I kinda have to..." She looked down at the rather heavy suitcase. "Put this somewhere."

Ritsuko looked over at Lukas and nodded, indicating that she was finished with Bianka and that they could release her. Bianka may yet work with the FIA in the future. But today's encounter seemed to have concluded.

"Very well, then." Lukas chuckled, unlocking the doors. Bianka went about her way, leaving to her apartment with the suitcase about her. As she entered the apartment, Lukas looked back to his passenger. "There's something greater at play with her... I digress. Back to the MvH?"

"I suppose so. Unless you plan on something else, we have business to attend to..."

"Of course." Lukas smirked. Driving off, he turned on [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HtHEgINHO0]the radio[url] to complement the trip to the local MvH building in Mieszko...

Kudu, West of Mugande
Mugande, Imalakian State
29 March 2018, 7:12 AM IST

Kimiko’s view through the binoculars wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. The ocular device had been dropped in mud an uncountable number of times and run over twice. It had survived a couple engagements and weeks of constant movement. And now it was providing Kimiko with a mediocre view of Mugande, the city Kimiko’s force was about to attack. It wasn’t the biggest city in the region, but it was the stronghold for Imalakian Action Front troops here. This bubble was the largest concentration of IAF troops in Northern Imalakia, and represented a major threat to stability. In addition, and more pertinent to Kimiko’s group, they had seized a major Imalakian Army depot containing a fair chunk of the government’s military equipment and supplies. According to Eagle, they had free reign over what they could take from that pile for themselves. No doubt, plenty of tanks and weaponry could be found in the depot itself. Well, what hasn’t already been taken by the IAF and subsequently destroyed in this conflict. Sakura Brigade was especially interested in the supplies the depot had. Ammunition, gasoline, and rations. The stuff needed to carry on this glorified road trip. And in order to take it all, Kimiko needed to take Mugande. Through her binoculars, Kimiko could see the flag of the IAF flying over the town hall of Mugande. Closer to the city limits, there was obvious evidence of fortification. Checkpoints, bunkers, and hardpoints to keep control over the city and the surrounding area. There was even some artillery. Assaulting the city would be tough, the IAF certainly outnumbered Kimiko’s force. That was why she took Kudu first.

Kudu offered a position slightly higher in elevation over Mugande. It made an excellent observation point, and a tempting target for counterattack. Which Kimiko wanted them to do. It would likely come later today, probably around the afternoon when the most light was available. The IAF was probably not a terribly effective fighting force despite their apparent experience shooting civilians. Concentrated artillery and combined arms were not likely. They would throw their numbers at Kudu, hoping to dislodge the Portean mercenaries on numbers alone. They would eventually find that this does nothing but deplete their numbers. By the time they realize that, it would be too late. The enemy will have been softened up enough for an infiltration assault to work. The beauty in the tactic was that Kimiko would be defending, not attacking. The brunt of the casualties would be borne by the Imalakians. The experience of the Portean mercenaries would prevail here. That much was certain. When Kimiko put down the binoculars, she already had a plan in mind. Takeda crawled up to her position with a prepared mess kit. “Sir, what’s the plan?” she asked, almost as if on cue. Kimiko sunk back down into the hastily-dug foxhole and replaced the camo net. She, and Sergeant Takeda, had foliage stuffed into their helmets as well as plenty of camo netting around their position. To the untrained eyes of the Imalakians, it was as though they were nothing but a bush. The company sniper team could perform this job plenty enough, but Kimiko wanted her own view of the imminent battlefield.

Kimiko graciously took the ration handed to her. “Thanks. Yeah, I’ve got an idea. We’ll try for a nighttime infiltration, use suppressed weapons. Throw them into a frenzy, that kinda thing” answered Kimiko. Takeda nodded in understanding. She and Kimiko had grown a rapport over their first few weeks of this operation. Takeda kept Kimiko appraised of the situation with the troops and Kimiko was showing herself to be a competent leader. They had grown something of a mutual respect. They even managed to begin tolerating Eagle after a while. “Now what about their counter-attack?” asked Takeda, ever to the point. Kimiko chuckled. “Oh, that. Are the infantry platoons in the positions I wanted?” Takeda nodded and took out her own mess kit to eat. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all. “Pretty much exactly. Interlocking fields of fire?” she posited. Kimiko swallowed a spoonful of cereal and rehydrated powdered milk. “Yup, all we need is barbed wire and it’s trench warfare” joked Kimiko, her mood lightened. “Only the Imalakians don’t have a hole to hide in afterwards.” The two shared a couple laughs as they thought about machine gun teams mowing down poorly trained and equipped Imalakian Communists, helplessly attacking an entrenched position without the slightest thought towards using actual tactics or stratagems.

The situation regarding the conflict between Sakura Brigade and the IAF was indeed hilarious. When they had first entered IAF territory a while ago, a muscular man warned them to avoid fighting the ‘mighty’ Imalakian Action Front. He was obviously into machismo or some kind of homosexual sex thing given his propensity to gesticulate with his Kalashnikov and his lack of a shirt. When he noticed that Kimiko’s unit was all women, he promised each of them would be raped repeatedly until death. Or something like that. They’d ignored the threat and continued anyways, confident in their ability to beat off any assailants before they succumbed to some cheesy porno plot. It wasn’t misplaced. Not a day after they had entered IAF territory, they were ambushed by about a platoon of IAF fighters. During the resulting battle, Sakura Brigade left no survivors among the Imalakians. At least, none that they could find. Corporal Iketani banged her fingers on a hatch. She later punched a squadmate who suggested she needed a band-aid with the same hand. The rather lopsided disparity between the forces was clear to anybody not blinded by power or doctrine. Kimiko just hoped it stayed that way.

by **Valefontaine** » Mon Apr 09, 2018 12:53 pm

TUNNEL SNAKES
_{Imalakian Rainforest}
_{Coalition-occupied Imalakia}
_{Imalakian State}
_{4/17/2018 - 11:17 PM IST}

Logistics, being as terrible as they were, Bianka still hadn’t been given replacements for the casualties incurred in Case White.

Instead, she’d be taking orders from 2. Sektion until reinforcements from the mainland came. She knew their CO, Konrad Lozic, quite well — after all, Bianka had saved his life on a previous occasion.

A lone Vi-27 helicopter traversed the jungle, tracers firing off in the distance. Bianka could hear nothing over the hum of the rotors, but judging by the occasional sight of gleaming beams of rocket-light, or as CS troops had come to call the massive MLRS barrages the FSE utilized… ‘sunbeams’ … it was clearly an ugly battle.

“I sure am glad I’m not a few miles east…” Niko glanced on at the horizon, which had become lit in a dim orange light by napalm.

“Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” Konrad looked on at the scene of destruction in the distance. It almost looked peaceful.

It was called Operation Neckbreaker: a joint Valefontene-Augustan force was locked in brutal, bloody battle with Euphemian forces, and thousands were presumed dead. Bianka knew that much… but it wasn’t relevant to the mission.

The mission in question had been explained during briefing — it was quite a relief that things were at least more coherent than the previous operation.

“A bit quiet there, Biko.” Bianka’s reassignment to 2. Sektion, and losing her role as squad leader made Niko call her by her nickname, either to tease her for what was effectively a demotion, or because he saw her as an actual friend. It really was hard to tell at this point.

“Hm?” Bianka seemed to have been lost in thought until he’d interrupted. “I’ve just been wondering what those Augustans could be up to, now.” Word had gotten around that she’d fought alongside the renown soldiers of the ‘sloth squad’ — rumors about them aside, she’d found them to be decent enough people. Something about Edward, even his CO, Revan… seemed to intrigue her, as though there were an underlying mystery she was yet oblivious to.

“Quite the odd bunch, weren’t they?” Niko shrugged. “Probably asleep back at Evans… where I’d rather be.”

“One of them mentioned a capture-or-kill operation… I wonder what they were referring to?” Bianka thought aloud.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Niko dismissed whatever Bianka was implying.

“Here we are,” Konrad announced, the helicopter gradually making its descent upon a clearing. Doors opening, the squad of 13 began to disembark. It had been 12 people, but an unfortunate run-in with one of the Bull’s associates and the (indefinite) integration of what remained of 3. Sektion had brought the squad to such an… unlucky number.

Nearby in the distance, the smoke-trail of a fire could be seen… an undeniable sign of activity. They’d come to investigate a compound nearby, which, should the reports have been true, been hosting the man himself. The Bull, due to his lifestyle, lacked a permanent holding. They had a window of time to fulfill this, as he never stayed in the same place for too long.

Moving onward into the jungle, they soon happened upon the hole that’d been marked by Turmenistanian trackers ahead of the operation.

“Now, which one of us is the shortest?” Konrad asked. This was essentially a rhetorical question, which was followed by most of the squad looking to Bianka. “Ah, right. Of course. You handle the tunnel, we’ll handle the compound proper.”

“I’ll deal with it…” Bianka muttered, embarrassed.

“Niko, you make sure your friend here doesn’t get hurt. Go with her.” Konrad gestured, before continuing his advance into the jungle with the other 10 men.

“Yeah, yeah.” Niko waited for Bianka to enter the tunnel.

Setting up the TV17 drone at the entrance of the hole, Bianka crawled inside close behind it, nearly forgetting to put on her AR goggles.

The tunnel was, as the briefing had foretold, as cramped as Bianka had expected. Quadrupedal drone moving on just ahead of her, and Niko just behind her.

“Of course we have to fuckin’ deal with the tunnels.” Niko complained. “At least I get a nice view.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry about it, keep going.” Niko replied, hiding a smirk.

The drone stopped for a moment as an Imalakian Diamondback[1] snake slithered past, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnels.

“What’s the matter, Biko?” Niko whispered.

“…snakes…” Bianka shuddered, carefully continuing to follow the drone.

“Y’know, back in the day… I was out in the fields at my dad’s ranch, handlin’ the cattle. One of the fuckers bit me in the leg. Used the machete I typically use to cut grass… cut the thing’s head clean off, threw it away. Wasn’t venomous, I’d dealt with those creatures before. As I’m continuing my rounds… I get bit again. I look, there’s the fuckin’ thing’s decapitated head, lodged to my leg. When you kill a snake, you gotta bury the fucker. I was lucky because I knew it wasn’t venomous, but now we’re in a pretty exotic continent… who knows what we’re dealing with?”

Bianka wasn’t sure whether to be reassured by the fact Niko knew to handle snakes, or to be doubly scared by the postmortem reflexes of snakes.

The drone continued on, its camera picking up no thermal signals ahead.

/// [VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [2. Sektion] - [Szt. Konrad Lozic] /// - “Anything down there?”

/// [VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [2. Sektion] - [Szt. Bianka Ziekowski] /// - “If there was, we’d have found it by now. We seem to be reaching the end of the tunnel.”

/// [VDRFOR] - [LAtR-13] - [12. Falsczhirmkompania] - [4. Platun ‘Husaria’] - [2. Sektion] - [Szt. Konrad Lozic] /// - “Understood. Out.”

Another hole waited at the tunnel’s end, to which Bianka packed the TV17 drone away and crawled out with Niko in tow. They found themselves in the Bull’s compound, which held shelves of books, crates of ammunition, and more of the sort.

The rest of the squad was either occupying the compound, or standing guard outside.

“Wouldn’t have expected the Bull to be the scholarly type.” Bianka looked about, fascinated by the man’s possessions.

Two books attracted her attention: one was a yellow hardcover book, which appeared to be quite old. In bold red letters, its title simply read: ‘山南派’ … the other book bore the words,

‘THESIS ON RECURRENCE
AUGUSTA DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY’

“We allowed to take things, sir?” Bianka looked at Konrad. She referred to him as ‘sir’ because a sierzant calling another sierzant a sierzant would be… odd.

“International law is a myth nowadays.” Konrad jested. “Take what you want.”

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Imalakian Diamondback - A snake recognizeable by the shiny scales on its back. It’s also believed to be highly venomous.

by **Turmenista** » Wed Apr 11, 2018 11:34 pm

FULCRUM ⍺

__________________________________
_{Somewhere in Turmenista}
_{Kubwa River Floodplains^[1]}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/4/2018 - 9:53 PM TST}

Zombie no go go, unless you tell am to go (Zombie)
Zombie no go stop, unless you tell am to stop (Zombie)
Zombie no go turn, unless you tell am to turn (Zombie)
Zombie no go think, unless you tell am to think (Zombie)

- Fela Kuti

Kingfish^[2] sailed over the Turmenistan landscape silently and swiftly, encountering no major troubles along the way. The Icarus VTOL had been exclusively retrofitted with shrouded exhaust pipes and painted with black low-radiation iron ball paint, as to minimize its radio and thermal signatures. Usually, an Icarus fitted for gunship missions would have a myriad of rocket pods, laser guided ATGMs, and short range AA missile launchers fitted on wing-mounted pylons, but SOCOM went an extra step further in having the weapons located in internal pylons, as to provide additional reassurance that nothing was going to detect this when it was flying.

The various members of Group 15 sat in the VTOL as it cruised over the background of the country, gradually entering into the more rural areas of Turmenista where it became more frequent for one to see just a farm out in the middle of nowhere rather than a full town. Soon, dirt trails began to replace properly paved roads, and fences sectioning off reservations or farms gradually began to disappear to wild territory.

Most of the members of Group 15 had already heard of the incident involving Operation Kalahari, where the Turmenistanian defensive line broke apart to a massive push by the Ma'ahists, much to the amusement of the rest of the CS nations and horror to the underdog.

Of course, Turmenista was capable of holding its own against such odds - it had done so in a border war between Euphemie in the early 90s^[3], but this time was different. The team didn't want to put too much thought into the disaster at Operation Kalahari (considering that it had been rectified by the massive success of TAFOR in Operation Aardvark), but some of them couldn't help but gossip about the two operations.

Xori couldn't blame them.

"Rumor has it that our boys got fuckin' abandoned by our CS 'buddies' back during Kalahari," Danny, the Group 15 operative and a skilled grenadier, spoke to James, another member of the team, whilst he twisted on a silencer to his ZM6. "They said we were gonna be gettin' just some regular contacts, not a buncha mercs with Hinds and T-80s."

"But we showed 'em we're not a bunch of jokes during Aardvark, that's for sure," James slapped a magazine into his R1L^[4], then lowered the weapon to his side. "We even took down one of their officers. Mulenge Butafogo - bastard tried to escape in a MI2, but our Wolverines^[5] made sure he wasn't goin' anywhere."

"He just ate that fuckin' Starscream^[6], eh?"

Xori couldn't help but just crack a smile. The thought of another Ma'ahist leader dead made things a lot less stressful and helped a lot in dismantling the IAF's morale and organization, but the CS wasn't just there. Yet. Euphemie trying to sow shit in their backyard wasn't helping out the situation at all, either. They all had to deal with the other existing partisan and rebel groups in Imalakia, not just the IAF, along with the fact that, inherently, some of the mercenaries working under the IAF happened to be a bit troublesome to find and catch. These were men like The Bull, who was responsible for the massacre at Operation Kalahari, and The Sloth, an affluent associate to the merc who tried to cleverly hide his past and "retire," only to support his former comrade from the sidelines with under-the-table shipments of money, guns, and women.

The Sloth was skilled, but so was Group 15. And Xori wasn't just going to let such an opportunity to get to The Bull slip away like this.

He stood up from his seat, venturing from the pilot cabin and past where the side door gunners would've been, and eventually made his way to the crew bay, normally big enough to fit at least a Heinessen Utahraptor or a few ATVs in the back. Said space today had been reserved for the black ops team's use, and even had enough room for a miniature weapons rack in the center, allowing the team to take their pickings. With one hand clinging onto the cargo netting on the roof of the troop bay, Xori Ventured over to the back of the VTOL, one hand on his chest rig, before he turned back to his men.

"Alright boys, listen up. Our target is - get off your goddamn COMMLINK and stop playing Sennight^[7], Rocky."

"Sorry, boss."

Xori continued. "Our target is some ugly bastard named Ndengo Momofati, otherwise known as The Sloth. He's a man laying low in Turmenista, some estate near the river, nothing too important of note. Or, at least, that's what he wants us to think. Officially, he's a merc from Imalakia, with close ties to our buddy, The Bull. After doing some mercenary work over there with some of the rebels, he's settled down here. Now, he's important because he is one of the Bull's resident arms, money, and sex slave dealers. We get him, get what we can out of him, and that's one less boundary we need to cross to find The Bull. Section 1 thinks he's somewhere in the Kubwa River Floodplains, but they've only been watching him. Section 3's informed us that they are actively triangulating his realtime location and are broadcasting it to us - he'll be somewhere within the red circle on your COMMLINK maps."

The team all briefly checked the multipurpose PDAs issued to them, either located on their wrists or as a smaller device they pulled out. Sure enough, there was a big red circle hovering over what appeared to be a warehouse near the Karoofee Valley^[8], marking The Sloth's estimated location.

"We have reason to believe that The Sloth is rendezvousing with a few of his accomplices at this remote location, a warehouse not too far from the shore. We're to make our way to this warehouse, raid it, find out what he's doing here, then follow him back to his home, which we believe is located on Cape Xu^[9]. Once we get to his house, we nab him and bring him in, then it's up to Section 3 on what they want to do with him. Any questions?"

"Where are we dropping, boss?" Rocky inquired as the team all strapped on their Advanced Combat Helmets, pushing up the faceplates of the ACHs and pulling down the ENVG-IIs built into the new helmets.

"The middle of goddamn nowhere." The black man briefly checked his watch. "60 seconds, we're out of here. Kingfish will be providing overwatch and, if needed, fire support." A three-tone ping in each of the men's ears indicated that Xori had changed his channel and began to speak.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Switch to side COMMs. Keep an eye on those COMMLINKS to see if we can pick up what he's saying. Let's go.”

Each of the men of Group 15 stood up, making their way to the back of the aircraft as it gradually began to slow down. The world outside of the VTOL stopped flying from under them as the aircraft slowed down and stopped over the landscape whilst engaging its vectoring engines, keeping it a nice distance above the thick treeline to give them some additional cover as the men dropped out.

The rear doors opened - each of the men, one by one, made their way to the rear and leaped out as the light turned blue^[10], plummeting to the land below. Finally, as Xori was the last man out, he pulled down his ENVG-IIs, turning the rather dark outside into a much more visible green as he stepped off the aircraft. Arms and feet spread out into an X formation, he reached to his front and pulled his chute, further slowing his descent down to the ground as he - and the rest of the team - aimed for a small clearing not too far from their landing site.

The team was already there, waiting for him as he landed, pulling out his Vektor R5 from his side as he tore off his chute. After scanning their surroundings to ensure the area was clear, Xori gave the command to move on.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Get to it! Head to the AO - we can't let our man leave before we're there.”

FULCRUM β

__________________________________
_{Somewhere in Turmenista}
_{Karoofee Valley Region}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/4/2018 - 11:31 PM TST}

Another three-tone chirp went off in Xori's ear as another member of Group 15 began to speak up: Jo, the team's resident sniper and a former SDU^[11], had something on his scopes.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [GSGT Joseph Reisner 'Jo'] - /// - “Jo to Actual. Contacts ahead: PACs, 750 meters, right in front. Looks like TAFOR regulars. Hold your fire.”

Regulars? Xori and the rest of Group 15 got down in the bush as the patrol, consisting of a few guys atop AM-3 Lions^[12], drove down the road. What the hell were regulars doing out here? The nearest base, according to the map, was FOB Jaguar, not too far away from where they actually were, but the regulars being out would jeopardize the safety of the entire mission.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Actual to Jo, solid copy. ID Confirmed - we can't let 'em mess with the mission.”

He suddenly switched lines up to Kingfish.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Actual to Kingfish. We've got friendly troopies on the ground unrelated to the mission. Requesting interdiction of friendly forces, over. ”

A few moments later...

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [YF-21 Icarus 'Kingfish'] - /// - “Kingfish to Actual, acknowleded. Sending out the broadcast now. Wait one. ”

Everyone in the area stopped as their COMMLINKs or radios went off suddenly with a four-tone chirp - this was the Dummy Signal, a fake broadcast designed to sound exactly like that of a regular command broadcast.

[TAFOR] - [HIGHCOMM] - [MAGNOLIA CENTCOM] - /// - “The following broadcast is directed to friendly forces in the Grid-Reference as follows: Delta, One. FOB Jaguar. Local reports indicate that you are crossing into tribal areas of high sensitivity. Please return to your posts at once. Acknowledge when received."

[TAFOR] - [1. Division] - [1st Regiment] - [14th. Mech. Battalion] - [Charlie Company] - [AM-3 Lion 'Two-Charlie'] - /// - “Two-Charlie complies, out."

The AM-3 lions turned around, going offroad for a bit before heading back onto the paved roads, expediently speeding back towards FOB Jaguar. Xori sighed. "That was way too fuckin' close. Keep moving." Ensuring the area was clear once more, he got up from his prone position and motioned for the team to keep moving.

It didn't take long for the team to enter the Karoofee Valley, but the red circle had since moved on, graudally making its way towards the nearby Kubwa River. The lush valley had several cliffs which dropped down into forests below, but the team knew their environment well. Crossing through the area was a breeze, but crossing down the cliffs without falling several hundred feet to one's doom was a bit of a challenge. Eventually, though, the team resorted to rappelling down the sheer cliffs, making their way to a small plateau which overlooked the compound they were above.

It was a collection of warehouses, garages, and cargo crates that a small group of syndicalist^[13] militiamen were using as an encampment, with several Heinessen Utahraptors and other old cars lying around the area. A hollowed out barrel had been filled with wood and was being used as a makeshift campfire, whereas the entire compound was lit up with already pre-fabricated street lights. According to their map, this was the last known location that The Sloth had been in, so, with any luck, they'd find something at least of use in there.

First nodding to Jo, who had taken a cozy spot on some rocks above them, Xori directed his index and middle finger to the lights, then to a sleepy partisan by the front of the compound, who stood by a nice getaway vehicle - a four-wheeler. This meant that Jo had the job of killing the lights, leaving the hostiles blind in the dark as Group 15, graced with high-quality night vision and suppressed weapons, would dispatch the rest of the garrison with ease. They wouldn't even know what was coming to them. The rest of the team knew the drill well: Pick a man, stick with him, then suppress him if he went into cover, allowing a buddy to flank around and take him down. Once each and every member of the team had picked a target, Xori counted down from five, his right hand raised high in the air.

At one, the HUD on his ENVG-IIs lit up as he designated the barrel the as the area for his ZM6 OICW's Airburst Launcher to detonate its incoming ordinance. He moved his hand his hand back to the airburst launcher on the front of his OICW, firing off a single round to start the shooting. As a small explosion erupted in the center of the camp taking down a nice group of hostiles, Jo's shooting promptly took out the street lights and the man by the ATV at the front of the compound, whilst the rest of the team culled the unsuspecting militiamen with ease. In about 50 seconds, all hostiles were eliminated.

Now came the hard part.

The team would have to manually clear out each and every building in the compound, which meant door kicking and room clearing. Fortunately for them, this was easier done than said, and in minutes, the compound had been cleared from head to toe, but had lifted no promising results.

They had been to late, which meant their target was still somewhere in the Karoofee valley. There was still hope in the situation, though. The team realized this as they brought up their TACPADs to view, noticing how the red circle had stopped, right above a lodge in the Karoofee only a drive away from their location.

And what better way to get there than to steal the technicals and other cars that the syndies had coincidentally stockpiled in their little hideout?

FULCRUM Γ

__________________________________
_{Somewhere in Turmenista}
_{Karoofee Valley}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/5/2018 - 1:01 AM TST}

[OPFOR] - [Ndengo Momofati 'The Sloth'] - /// - “Fucking TURMIES!!! Send help here as soon as you can, they got their spec ops coming. But I have a gun..- ”

The signal cut off abruptly as the small radio tower near The Sloth's estate was promptly blown up by a C4 explosive, and the team watched from a safe distance as the tower fell to the ground. "Is it gone?" Xori asked, to which Danny nodded. "He's not calling for any help anytime soon. Bastard didn't even get the chance to send it to his friends. Not even a text."

"I'll keep that in mind." the black man nodded. "Move up. Kick down his door if you have to."

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Actual to Kingfish. We're moving up on the house now, prepare for extra-. ”

They barely made it to the front steps, as the front doors had been blown off their hinges and sent flying at the group. Xori and the rest of the group that moved up ran for any cover they could find as an all too familiar howl of a "BRRRRRRRRTTTTTT" roared over their heads, flattening anything and everything in its way. As soon as he could, Xori rose from the tall grass and fired off a shot blindly at the Sloth, missing once. He fired another right after the ground beside him was tore up with bullets - another miss - then quickly ran to regroup with the rest of Group 15.

The Sloth had stepped out of the house, a XM214 Microgun^[14] in his hands, spooled up and ready to go.

"MINIGUN!!" Xori bellowed, lifting his rifle up once more to keep on suppressing the man as he stepped out of the house, practically untouchable thanks to the sheer amount of firepower he was putting out. "Focus your fire on the fucker NOW!!" Hot red-white and blue tracer rounds from each side were exchanged as the Sloth kept moving forward, forcing the group further and further back into cover - an unadvantageous position given how this meant abandoning armored Heinessen Utahraptors and technicals for mere trees and shrubbery.

In that time span Xori realized that Group 15 had made a grave mistake - their guard had been let down. In hindsight, it was foolish for him to think that an arms dealer wouldn't have been carrying such big heat and was trained with skills that only The Bull had taught him. Likewise, he also realized that for his mistake, one of his boys would pay the price. He had barely any time to stop it from happening, and could only open his mouth to shout, helpless to stop it . He could only watch as Rocky took the full brunt of the microgun's rage head on, the 5.56 rounds easily tearing through him and his light body armor as the the physical force of the burst took him off his feet and airborne for a few moments. The Sloth shouted out in glee at the sight of his kill, quickly rushing back to the house as Group 15's autorifleman sprayed back at him in response.

Xori let out a yell of frustration and anger, unloading what remained in his ZM6 OICW before he quickly transitioned to his sidearm - which wasn't much at all. The Sloth simply hunkered down behind a column at the porch of the house, waiting silently. Had he run out of ammo? Jammed? Or was he granting them a brief moment of respite? Either way, Xori intended to use the silence to his advantage.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Jo, cover my ass! I'm grabbing Rocky! MOVING!”

The sniper dutifully did as he was told, keeping The Sloth suppressed in cover as Xori raced across no-man's land, slinging his rifle behind his back. He reached down and grabbed the smaller man, using his strength to lift him up and carry him across his shoulders, rushing back across the open before settling back into cover. Coincidentally after, the Sloth poked his head and microgun out once more, suppressing the naturally-made fortifications of trees, bushes, and small mounds that had been outside of his house.

"Don't move Corporal, you're going to be alright, okay?!" Xori knelt down and gently lifted up the man's head, inspecting the damage for himself. It was a miracle that he was alive, but Rocky was just barely holding on to life. Blood oozed from several gunshot wounds in his chest and legs, but, eventually, he managed to sputter up a word and looked at the Lieutenant.

"Boss? I....Boss.. I fucked up.. big time.." he coughed, panicking as soon as he realized the copious amount of blood that he was losing. Xori did his best to calm the panicking Commando by gripping his head and bloodied hand, turning it toward him. "You're going to be fine, you hear me?! James, get the fuck over here, NOW! Call the god damn CASEVAC." By the time the medic got over to them, though, Xori knew it was already too late, but not without one last sign from Rocky.

"Listen... I always looked up to you.. thank you for Amama... please don't forget me.." With his trembling words and hands, he continued on his last dying breaths. "Kill the bastard for me.."

Xori continued holding the man in his arms until he noticed the man beginning to weigh down in his arms, his eyes glazed over and trembling suddenly ceasing. James stared blankly at the man, he and his commander practically oblivious to the ongoing firefight behind them.

"He's gone, boss," James said plainly.

The words hit Xori like a baseball bat, and it took him a while to actually realize the weight of the situation as it stood now. The Sloth had gained significant ground against them, a much more organized and more formidable unit rather than a random arms dealer with a microgun.

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Actual to Kingfish. We've got one man down. Requesting immediate CASEVAC on my position, over.. ”

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [YF-21 Icarus 'Kingfish'] - /// - “That's a negative, Actual. LZ's hot and is about to get even hotter - you've got multiple heat signatures coming in from due south of your position, on horseback. Wait five minutes then relocate - ensure the asset is in your possession before extraction. How copy?”

[TURFOR] - [CIC] - [SEC 3] - [MILSPECWARCOM] - [G-15] - [Lt. Xori Bantou 'Actual'] - /// - “Uhh... copy? What do you mean horseba-”

A white flare popped over the house suddenly, showering the area with daylight as everyone looked to the sky for a brief moment, then heard the thundering of hooves.

[INDFOR] - [NDJENGO TRIBE]^[15] - [IMPI]^[16] - [XXXXXX] - /// - “TO THE MAN THAT WE HAVE CALLED THE SLOTH FOR YEARS... WE GROW TIRED OF YOUR RULE ON OUR LANDS. YOU STEAL OUR WOMEN AND TAKE OUR MONEY AS YOU WISH, BUT NO MORE! THE NDJENGO HAVE PROTECTED THESE LANDS FOR MANY GENERATIONS... AND TODAY, WE RIDE TO RID YOU FROM OUR HOME!!"

"I never thought I'd see the day.." The Lieutenant stopped - several dozen dark-skinned men on equally dark horses armed with spears or old Kalashnikovs had rode in the area, and had begun to encircle the area like something out of a rancho^[17] movie. Horses and men fell to the minigun like lambs to the slaughter, yet the tribal militiamen persisted. Eventually, Xori heard clicking coming from the rotary machine gun carried by the man, followed by a loud swearing as he pulled out an equally as large magnum. He directed the six-shooter to the horse-bound or foot-bound tribal men, felling each and every one that was danger close with a quick shot to the temples, before he stopped to reload.

This gave Xori enough time and wide enough of an opening to take down The Sloth in the most foolproof way yet: Indlela.^[18]

After the Sloth began to reload, Xori went down into a sprint and rocketed down the open field, straight for the man. Left foot forward first, he sent a powerful left hook to The Sloth's face, followed promptly afterwards with a second punch to his kidney. His left leg swept out from the ground and slammed into the back of one of the Sloth's legs with a satisfying "thump" as his side folded beside his powerful kick, before finishing off with one final, colossal punch to the face with his strong, right hand.

THWOMP

At the end of all this, the Sloth fell over onto the floor, his eyes rolling backwards into his head as he crumpled down onto the ground. Xori rolled the man onto his chest, pressing his sidearm's suppressor onto the back of the man's neck as the tribals surrounded him.

"Shiya le ndawo!^[19] Leave this place! Go, now!"

Reluctantly, the Tribals lowered their spears and weapons, quickly leaving atop their horses as the rest of the Group 15 operators approached the area slowly. The hum of Kingfish approached the estate as the group entered a defensive formation around their man, popping a flare to indicate the LZ for the VTOL.

They were away from area as quickly as they had come in, leaving no man left behind. 1 friendly had fallen, 1 OPFOR had been extracted, and 14 commandos had left the scene as the darkness of light fell upon it once more.

FULCRUM Ω

__________________________________
_{The Colossus^[20]}
_Louisa
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/5/2018 - 7:41 AM TST}

Xori had a mere four hours of sleep on the way back to Evans Air Station, and on the flight to Louisa, yet on the way there slept restlessly almost all the way. On the seemingly short, uneventful ride down to the Capital of Turmenista, he contemplated life.

He'd executed the mission perfectly - a textbook example, even, yet no one had informed him of the massive amount of firepower that the Sloth was carrying along with him.

He also knew the CIC in and out. He knew that they'd hardly ever bat an eye to a loss achieved by one of their "expendable" playthings, but the thought of an all out war between the CS and Euphemie made things all the more serious. Minor losses like these to people like Xori were considered devastating, but to the men in the room behind him, it could easily be shrugged off. It was the hard, cold truth, but he knew it, and had to accept it.

His most frustrating thought, though, was that Rocky was never going to see the end of this godforsaken conflict in Imalakia, and bring the man who had killed so many of his friends in Kalahari to justice. But to the CIC, one death for Group 15 could easily be fixed up, passed off as "non-critical" losses on paper. But group 15 was no ordinary unit. Every single god damned man on the team counted - even the pilots of Kingfish, for all he cared. Even upon his introduction as the greenest member of the team under the then-Captain Townsend, to his appointment of the leader of Group 15, this had been clearly evident to him. Every soldier on the team - even the vehicles and weapons they used - were far from normal, and far from just "non-critical" pawns in battle. Surely Rocky deserved better than this.

Even though he sat directly below the large painting of King Momofati II^[21], Xori could feel the painting's eyes staring down into him, either in a mix of pain and sadness, or disappointment. Both men had their arms folded, though Momofati's remained folded permanently in time. Xori had remained silent for the entirety that he had been here. In the room adjacent to him, some of the most powerful men and politicians in Turmenista had gathered, including Commander N'Jobu Ido^[22], officials from the recently-revealed Section 0^[23], Major Townsend, the recently declassified Colonel Halsey^[24], and even the president himself.

As the doors opened up after what seemed like an eternity, Xori first noticed an entourage following Kuma out of the room, who seemed totally oblivious to his presence whatsoever. He was accompanied by several uniformed officials and guards, while the rest of the officials from the Intelligence Community poured out of the room soon after.

Making up the last of the individuals in the room were Commandant Ido, who simply gave a nod to the Lieutenant upon leaving, along with Colonel Halsey and Major Townsend - the former of which simply gave a sigh as she stepped by, her head low.

"I'm sorry."

"Ma'am?"

She said nothing more. He raised an eyebrow at her cryptic farewell, but questioned nothing else as the high-ranking intelligence agent disappeared into the amalgamation of government workers walking amok in the Colossus or gathering outside to see President Kuma. Thus, the official last man in the room was Major Townsend, his usual beret to his side as he stood outside of the doors of the meeting chamber, just as silent as the lower-ranking Commando was.

"Townsend.." Xori began, "What happened? Why is she saying she's sorry? What the hell went on in there?"

"...I tried to reassure them."

"Ian, please tell me, what happened in there?"

Townsend's head was low, just like JOKER's was. "They've shut down Group 15. Permanently."

"They what?"

"Kuma just figured out about Praelia Caicos and Fulcrum... and every other operation the Group's done before then. He was pissed beyond anything I've ever seen before. Decided that MILSPECWARCOM didn't need a group that he didn't know about or what it was doing anytime soon, and everyone agreed, of course. They've agreed to disavow Group 15, reassign its members to their regular special forces groups for further planning. As of now, the group's been disavowed. JOKER is being reassigned, man.." One hand ran over his grizzled beard ^[25] as he silently, but violently hissed a "Fuck!" out. "I tried to stop them.."

"Townsend.. they can't do this. Look at what all I've done for this country - what this group did-"

"Actually, they can. JOKER and I couldn't do anything in front of the president, HIGHCOM, and Section 0. I never even knew it existed.."

"Why the hell wasn't I in there?!" Xori suddenly roared. "I could've testified in front of them, told them our cover was blown on Fulcrum, but it was life or death here. They don't understand what we do, Townsend."

"Yes, and arguing with them would be suicide," Townsend swallowed. "I couldn't say much, you know."

"I'm not afraid to say what I want to say," Xori frowned. "I should've been in there."

"They placed you on shore leave, advised you to take a little break, Xori. You know.. maybe you should...-"

"A break?"

Townsend was originally sent back by Xori's suddenly hostile hiss. "They want me to take a break? After what I've done? What I've seen? I need to be back out there, Townsend. This war's done things to people like you and me. You know this. I just witnessed one of my squad mates die a few hours ago, and now they suggest for me to tale a break?" He scoffed. "Unbelievable, man. Fucking unbelievable. Government bureaucracy should play no part in the way the military operates, and you know this, Ian."

"Xori, I couldn't do anything."

"Of course you couldn't," The black man growled. "But unlike you, a real Commando would've stood up for his brothers in a situation like this. I really hope we can work something out, Townsend, because I can't keep living like this, being pushed around by people who I should trust. " Before he started for the exit, he turned back to his superior. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a casualty report to write and a body to bury. Good day, Townsend."

TIME FOR REVOLUTION

__________________________________
_{Unidentified Safehouse}
_{Lee, District of Ophir}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{4/5/2018 - 1:23 PM TST}

The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run brothers
The revolution will be live
- Gil Scott-Heron

The broadcast had done more than just set off a catalyst of riots and protests across Euphemie: it had reactivated each and every Weatherman and Weatherwoman across Euphemie in a signal of numbers and flashing images, instantly drawing thousands to their cause for freedom.

The plan had been orchestrated perfectly, but still, there remained a large force of poor blacks and whites in need of some reassurance, which was where Nala Obu and her expertise came in.

A ping went off on Shadowdancer's computer, whilst he pulled what appeared to be a USB stick out of his laptop and jammed it into a much, much larger computer nearby his own personal one.
He quickly slid over to his rolling chair, rolling across the room towards a soundboard-like set, where he tapped on a large, antique keyboard near the front of the construction. Chewing a toothpick, he began typing even faster, the sound of his fingers against the keys similar to machine gun fire as he suddenly removed the toothpick, tossing it into the trash.

Nala sat patiently on the stool in front of the microphones, watching the TVs showing the carnage of the ongoing race riots and crime sprees taking place in major cities all across Euphemie - Lee being one of them. Shadowdancer nodded, his hooded and mask-wearing face still invisible to the young woman. "Everyone in Euphemie is gonna be hearing this. Even the Feds."

"Then let them come," She said silently.

"Very well." The Shadowdancer grinned underneath his mask, hovering his finger over to a large, intimidating red button. Counting down from five in his head, he nodded one last time to his compatriot, before the bright red "ON AIR" lights came alight in the room, bathing Nala's face in a deep crimson color.

She slowly raised the sheet of paper in front of her, then narrated:

"Citizens of Euphemie, this is the voice of Basanteland^[26]:"

"To my oppressed brothers, sisters, and friends on the streets and in the cities; to the lowly layman who toils tirelessly for little reward, we are here for you."

"A new force faces our nation, and that is the tide of pan-Ophiricism. Our leaders have always broadcasted to us that Euphemie is a white country, made by white people, for white people, and that all other races are simply treated as 'undesirables.' This nation belongs to the Ophirics, has always belonged to them, and will continue to belong to them."

"Under the corrupt regime of George Fern, our country has undergone the greatest drug crisis to ever face it in its history. Combine this with rampant unemployment, inflation, and complete negligence of the situation on the Government's part, and you've got yourself a concoction doomed for failure. This is what my organization seeks to rectify: The white regime of George Fern is on a warpath to destruction, and we exist to keep exactly that from happening."

"I ask every able-bodied Euphemian to join me. Join me in the fight to topple our oppressive regime, and rename our country to the name it was given from birth: Basanteland! Long live the Basanteland!"

CONTEXT NOTES

- A fertile region of the expansive Kubwa River running through Ophir, mostly used for farming. Native farmers have timed their harvests with the river's flood patterns, and the floodplains are also known for their biodiversity, scenic falls, and cleanliness.
-The designation given to a modified TAFOR YF-21 Icarus VTOL aircraft assigned to Group 15, which saw action in Operation Praelia Caicos earlier this year.
- Prior to its collapse in the mid-1920s, the area constituting modern day Euphemie, Turmenista, and Imalakia existed as a combined state, known as the Republic of South Ophir. The breakdown of this federation led to heated and long-standing border disputes and deep animosities between the Federal States of Euphemie and Republic of Turmenista, effectively ruining relations between the two countries as they argued over which drawn border was the correct one. Many people - especially those belonging to the Basante, a major Southern Ophiric ethnic group indigenous to present-day Euphemie and the contested border region - would find themselves effectively sandwiched in a deadly and nigh inescapable situation, facing the prospects of harsh discrimination and banned travel to Turmenista on one end, and a lengthy, costly, and bureaucratic future to freedom on the other end. Tensions between the two countries eventually came to a boiling point in 1991, when the then-Euphemian President, V.C. Minton, attempted to press Euphemian claims on the region with force. The conflict didn’t escalate that much aside from a few skirmishes and minor standoffs, however, primarily due to pressure by the Continental System and also economic strains put on Euphemie in an attempt to keep up with the rapidly expanding military-industrial complex of Turmenista. Since then, Euphemie has been preparing for a final war where it will again reassert its claims. Under the stern leadership of President George Fern, it’s very well within the realm of possibility, though the country may soon find itself not fighting its egalitarian neighbors, but its own citizens.
- The R1L is the standard-issue 5.56mm assault rifle in service by TAFOR, Duirel, and some elements of SOCOM, renowned for its sturdiness and modular capabilities. Many specifications include a carbine mod for crew and security, an underslung grenade launcher, DMR varoamt, and even a SAW with a mounted bipod and drum magazine. Visually similar to a mixture of a Galil and a FAL in real life.
- "Wolverine" refers to the nickname given to a type of 8-wheeled Stryker-like AFV, equipped with a RCWS-controlled HMG and a mounted MANPAD launcher, similar to that of the IRL Humvee Avenger. Most of these units are responsible for the successful kills of enemy helicopters and airplanes, and were even acknowledged by an Augustan Commander as being reliable air defense assets.
- A classification of "Dual Purpose" laser-guided missiles in TAFOR's arsenal, capable of targeting slow-moving or low flying aircraft and, to an extent, ground vehicles, thanks to laser guidance. Due to their rather large size they not man-Portable, and thus are only employed on air defense systems such as the Wolverines, Kruger Marksmans (T1A1 AD model), and dedicated tracked launchers.
- A popular video game globally, Sennight - Battle Royale™ pitches players in a totally open world scenario in a shrinking environment on a random map, forcing players to use their wit and skill with building to be the last man (or last group) standing.
- Located between the Karo and Ofee rivers in the central part of the country, this valley is home to a great irrigation scheme built by the native Turmen peoples of the area. Even today, the concrete system irrigates some 1,000 farms. According to local Turmenistanian farmers this is probably the largest irrigation scheme in Ophir. Produce grown here includes olives, pecans, peanuts, citrus, wine, cotton, and stone fruits. Wheat, maize, and grain are also grown in the Karoofee Valley.
- A rocky coast with a very familiar name to old stories. Also noteworthy for it's ubiquitous presence of Marine Iguanas.
- Blue [usually] means go in Turmenista. Blue traffic lights, blue jump lights, you name it. Nobody really knows or cares why.
- The Special Duties Unit is the dedicated Sea, Air, and Land special forces division of the TAFOR-NV, known for their daring missions behind enemy lines, long reconnaissance missions, riverine capability, and boonie hats.
- The AM-3 Lion is an 8-wheeled armored reconnaissance vehicle built by Land Systems ROT in the late 1980s for the TAFOR. The Lion preceded the T1A1 Kruger Main Battle Tank and served as a dedicated armored reconnaissance vehicle for counter-insurgencies, but proved its capability as an effective Tank Destroyer during its service. It is equipped with a stabilised 120mm high velocity gun for anti-tank and fire support purposes. More information is located on this WorldWideWiki page.
- Radical syndicalists militias, who want to transform Turmenista into a state fully run by the workers, still exist, though have been seen in rather scarcity and extremely low numbers due to unpopularity.
- The XM214 microgun is a Euphemian prototype 5.56 mm rotary-barreled machine gun. Essentially, it is a scaled-down and lighter version of the famous M134 minigun, firing M193 5.56×45mm ammunition, thus making it man-portable.
- Pray that you don't mess with this tribe. They've protected Turmenista for many generations and have reportedly defeated militias and terrorists with iron spears, hide shields, horses, and sloths.
- The warriors of the aforementioned tribe.
- A genre of music and film focused on the "Ranch" life or countryside. Analagous to country music or rock and roll IRL and a big part of Turmenista's music scene along with Ophirbeat.
- All members of SOCOM are trained in Indlela, a martial arts style developed by a mercenary of Turmenistanian descent, designed to disarm or incipacitate the target as quickly and stealthily as possible.
- This is Basante, one of the many spoken tribal languages in Turmenista and traditional language of the Basante people.
- The aptly-named title of the massive administration building and headquarters of the Turmenistanian Department of Defense, located in Louisa, the center of many government buildings.
- One of the most popular and definitely the most influential tribal monarchs in Turmenista's history, King Momofati led his people in driving off the colonists, created peace with the Basante to the north, and organized a strong peace between the Turmen peoples, the Basante peoples, and the whites of in Louisa and Biko. He is credited as being the creator of the idea of a South Ophiric federation and for creating the strong harmony between whites and native blacks seen in the country today. His portrait is displayed in the Colossus and in a statue in his hometown, Wanaga.
- Commander N'Jobu Ido is the current acting leader of TAFOR HIGHCOMM, and is thereby the most senior officer of all of TAFOR.
- A recently unveiled and previously deemed non-existent sector of the CIC, Turmenista's prime intelligence agency. Section 0 is the most secretive of the 4 sections of the CIC, and is focused on internal affairs primarily.
- A possible real-life name given to the CIC Section 3 Field Liaison code named JOKER, acting as the CIC representative and commanding officer of MILSPECWARCOM Group 15, along with Major Ian Townsend.
- TAFOR's rules on facial hair for commandos and other SOCOM operators tends to be more lenient compared to the rest of the armed forces. Sometimes this is due to blend in with the local populace.
- According to groups like Weather Overground and the Republic of New Ophrika, "Basanteland" was, apparently the original name of Euphemie, referring to the Basante peoples that once inhabited the countryside of Euphemie, but were forced into submission as Euphemie was created. Now, WO and RNO are calling for the country to be renamed and for the oppressive white regime to be overthrown in a revolution worthy of the history books...

by **Valefontaine** » Wed Apr 11, 2018 11:53 pm

A NEW ARRIVAL
_{Evans Air Station}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/18/2018 - 9:05 AM IST}

In the bunk-room formerly assigned to 3. Sektion, which Bianka and Niko still used, Bianka had been hard at work for the past two days studying the contents of the books she’d found. They’d been able to do much procrastination with their newfound freedom, as they were effectively to do whatever in their barracks until a proper replacement for their casualties came about — Bianka’d been notified of such a replacement coming in lieu of another coming operation targeting the Bull, the document of transfer resting on the desk beside the books.

“This entire book’s in Sinican…” Bianka had taken to reading the yellow book first. There were also illustrations, incantations of various purpose and meaning…

“What’s in it, though?” Niko was in his bunk, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone’s news feed.

“It’s some kind of martial art.” Bianka replied. “Meditation, pressure points… paralyzing people temporarily, you get the idea.”

“What about the other book?” Niko asked, curious.

“A certain thesis written by a Professor Eden…” Bianka began. “I skimmed through it, looks like a load of pseudoscientific trash.”

A knock at the door was followed by two figures entering the room. Ludzowe Armie uniforms, thank God.[1]

“We’re the new arrivals from the mainland.” The man began, extending his hand to Bianka. The person beside him was a woman who couldn’t be much older than Bianka.

“I’m Sierzant Bianka Ziekowski.” She returned the gesture by shaking his hand.

“Indeed. Your exploits are known by many.” He spoke with a heavy, unsophisticated accent… he had to be one of those Easterners.[2] “Guess I should introduce myself. Kapral Luka Vernon, this here’s my friend, Privat Karolina Símek.”

The woman beside Luka gave a shy nod.

Something about his accent, and him… seemed familiar to Bianka, but she couldn’t quite pin who it could’ve been.

“Pleasure to work with you.” Bianka nodded.

“Likewise.” Luka grinned. He’d gone through a great deal of MvH clout-pushing to get a faux-reassignment. This Bianka girl had somehow been of importance to Jet, and to Kaczka… and both were gone now. Certainly there was something greater at play with this enigmatic girl, despite her innocent, unwitting appearance — the Dreamraker Project file served only to affirm such belief.

“I assume the operation begins soon.” Bianka said. She could only assume that preparations were reaching completion, if replacements from home had arrived.

“Well—” Luka was interrupted by the loudspeakers.

“LAtR-13, 12. Falsczhirmkompania, 4. Platun Husaria, 3. Sektion… report to hangar for briefing…”

RODEO
_{Pyramid of N’djah}
_{Coalition-occupied Imalakia}
_{Imalakian State}
_{4/18/2018 - 11:30 AM IST}

The vast jungle canopy stretched for miles upon miles below a lone Vi-27, expanding off into the horizon.

Despite the beauty of the place, Bianka wasn’t in the best of moods. The man who’d killed half her squad, whose lives she sought to avenge… was to be captured, not killed. She sat quietly and idly by, her thoughts set on getting this mission done as quickly as possible.

“I’ve heard much of this place.” Karolina looked on at the beautiful, vast expanse of jungle around them.

“These jungles stand to conceal nothin’ but horror and despair.” Luka interjected.

A mountain range lay ahead, the helicopter passing between a rather wide ravine between two of the mountains… and then Bianka saw it.

A decayed pyramid-like structure, towering above the jungle around it.

“What the hell is that?” Niko looked on, awestruck at the ancient architecture before them.

“The Pyramid of N’djah.” Bianka replied. This was, once again, something she knew from her rather questionable knowledge of obscure history. “Built by the Faoron[3] N’djah of the Middle Ophiric Kingdom in 1400 BE[4]… his pyramid served as a testament to his conquest of this jungle, even after his death. The place was believed to be a mythical, lost site… until recently. The Imalakian Civil War has made archaeology in this part of Ophir difficult.”

“And the Bull uses this place to… meditate?” Luka raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently so.” Bianka shrugged. Questioning the SNvI’s methods of… knowing… was not something she had the inclination to do.

As the helicopter circled the pyramids and its surrounded structures of temples, housing, and other amenities, two Augustan helicopters joined them in the circling act — fire support if shit went awry.

Swinging open the doors, Bianka threw the ropes down. The squad rapelled to the ground, advancing through the ruins, AR goggles equipped.

The pyramid deviated from its typical shape in only one aspect: a direct line of stairs leading upward on the structure.

Judging by the fact no red markers were appearing on their HUD yet, the Bull was not in the surrounding ruins, but rather… within the pyramid itself.

/// [AUFOR] - [1st Republican Guard Division] - [Bath Company] - [XXXX] - [UH-76 Greyhawk] /// - “No thermal signals in the ruins. You’re clear to move up.”

Situated at the edge of the ruins, upon a rather wide river, lay the wreckage of a convoy of river-ships. They appeared to be in a severe state of decay, having perhaps been there for a few decades. One thing that hadn’t decayed, however, were the Ygarthene flags set upon their ruined masts.

The first ship bore the inscription ‘VOOROUDERSERFGOED — FMS Leeuw’ … which Bianka couldn’t understand a word of.

“Looks like we weren’t the first people here.” Luka glanced at the wreckage off in the river. He was quite impressed with how… filled with adventure being a member of the Airborne was.

Ascending the steps of the pyramid, which were rife with the growth of vines and mosses of various types, Bianka led the way up.

At the top of the pyramid lay an antechamber of sorts, a small fountain of murky still-water at the center of a circular staircase that led downward — into the depths of the pyramid, perhaps?

“We won’t know what we’re dealing with now.” Bianka removed her goggles, tucking them away in her kitbag. “Be quiet down there… and be ready for anything.”

Slowly, they descended the steps, NVGs guiding them on.

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, they found themselves in the first chamber — long and corridor-like, with oddly situated stone panels across its floor.

“Somehow this place looks suspect…” Niko muttered.

“What did I just say?!” Bianka looked to Niko. “Be quie—” Bianka stopped. One of the panelled floors had weighed down as she stepped upon it — a pressure plate!

In a moment, the plate sunk, and Bianka found herself helplessly screaming as she fell down a chute of some sort. Hitting the ground with a thud, she found herself in complete darkness, with only her night vision goggles. Hearing another thud beside her, she turned around.

“Biko— I mean, Sierzant…? Are you alright?” Niko whispered, walking over to her.

“Do I look alright? Does anything about the fact we’re trapped in an ancient pyramid… seem alright to you?” Her voice quivered, as though she were at the verge of breaking down. She checked her radio, and upon realizing it had cracked during the fall, only became more anxious. “We’ve been separated from the others, I don’t even know how long we’ll last against the finest mercenary in Ophir…” She removed her NVGs as she began to cry. Emotional breakdowns like these weren’t typical for her…

“C-calm down! We can get through this together.” Niko reassured her.

“I’m pathetic. I lost my best friend, I lost half my squad… I failed them. I failed everyone. Now here we are, probably about to meet our end…” She curled into the fetal position as she sobbed on. “Nobody takes me seriously… I’m short… you always…” She had difficulty continuing, but mustered it. “You always bully me…”

“Those were just jokes, Bianka.” Niko tried to ease her by using her name, rather than call her sierzant. “We both got issues we need to sort out… like the operation in Euphemie we’ve conveniently forgotten… our lives back at home… we got friends and family out there, waiting for us.”

“Why does everyone think I’m some kind of hero?” She moped. “I’m so fucking dumb… and incompetent… why do you even deal with me?”

“You do your job. And you do your best. I joined up because I wanted adventure in my boring life. Fighting alongside you has been the funnest adventure of my life… everything ‘till now has been so… boring.” Niko wasn’t sure if this was a heartfelt admission, or lip-service… but he continued. “When you’re out there, you’re quick-witted, you’re composed, you’re self-assured… be confident in yourself, Biko.”

“Am I a… friend… to you?”

“Not only are you my squad leader, but you’re also my friend. The bond we’ve formed is genuine, forged in hard-fought camraderie.” Niko responded, looking down to her.

Gradually, she composed herself, getting back up, her crying now the occasional sniffle. Resting her back against the wall, she wiped away tears as she tried to think of what they’d do in this situation. Surely they’d be trapped down here for awhile… and if the SNvI had been correct, they were trapped here with the Bull himself.

These could very well be their last hours… what had Bianka achieved in her life? She’d fulfilled her dream of making music, she’d made so many friends along the way… but was her life really complete? No! There was so much more for her to achieve, to aspire towards, to dream for.

“Niko?…” She leaned forward, unable to see where he was in the darkness.

“Look, this isn’t a romance flick. I’m not going to kiss you to give you motivation, sweetie. That’s just cliché. Please, just get over yourself, grab your NVGs and get moving.” Niko was back to his usual, arrogant self… yet in a way he was surprised at how honest he’d been when he’d gushed on about life to her.

“I wasn’t even…” Standing up and putting on her NVGs, Bianka once again led the way. Outside of the stone chamber they’d fallen into, a tight corridor led on, the two slowly navigating whereever the hell they were.

Every now and then, they’d pass the skeletal corpse of an unfortunate adventurer, a grave reminder of those that’d stumbled upon this place and failed to escape.

Once again they stumbled upon another set of stairs, leading them down to yet another level. It seemed that the deeper they went, the place’s condition seemingly became better. Less apparent decay, less overgrowth… as though it were being maintained by someone.

“Niko… be ready.” Bianka whispered, descending the steps. The level in question appeared to be mildly flooded, with water up to Bianka’s ankles. Had she not been wearing boots, it would’ve been a serious discomfort.

They moved forward, as quietly as they could… gradually approaching what could only be a light at the end of the corridor.

This appeared to be the nexus of the pyramid. Two grand statues of cat-headed men flanked a grand, golden facade of what probably would’ve been N’djah himself. The source of the illumination became apparent: lamps bolted and wired along the pillars. The source of such power, of course, was a leak in the wall that spun a homemade water turbine — presumably to generate energy. If this was all the Bull’s handiwork, he certainly was a skilled man. Flanking some of the pillars, just above the waterline, were benches stacked with books of every variety and sort… what mind would find itself at peace in an ancient tomb? Regardless, it wasn’t long until they found the man himself.

He sat idly as he faced away from them, meditating atop a small stone pedestal.

“I knew you’d come.” He spoke Augustan quite well. “To kill me, to arrest me, to put an end to my work.”

As he turned around, it occurred to Bianka that this was the first time he’d seen him without a mask on — all photos of him existent had him wearing his iconic shemagh.

“Doesn’t have to end this way. If you have a weapon on you, drop it.” Bianka ordered, aiming her Kb-92 at his legs.

“Ah, I recognize this voice.” He smiled. “And it seems you were no Augustan after all.” He took note of her Valefontene uniform.

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Bianka instructed, again. She was confused by his words… did he know something she didn’t?

“I don’t intend to be captured without a fight. It would be a stain on my honor.” The Bull replied.

“Then so be it.” Before Bianka, or even Niko, could immobilize him, he’d already made his move. A kick to Bianka’s chest sent her against the wall, and Niko was likewise disarmed and paralyzed.

“Yes, indeed… I do remember you.” The renown mercenary said, carefully analyzing Bianka’s facial features.

“I-it seems my reputation precedes me…” Bianka wryly chuckled.

“I suppose you didn’t learn the first time. Does he know?” The Bull looked to Niko, who was still unable to move.

“Know what?” Bianka raised an eyebrow.

“I gave you a choice…” He lowered himself before Bianka, his piercing gaze filling her mind with unease. “Either I’d shoot the other girl, or I’d shoot him.You wanted him gone, didn’t you?” The Bull paused, as if in thought. “I did the opposite of what you wanted… because I learned in life, that life’s all about dealing with people we don’t exactly like…”

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about…” Bianka meekly replied. She’d forgotten everything — was that why Adrienne had been dead when she woke up, during Case White? No. There was no way it was her fault…

“Perhaps you’re one of those legendary… Dreamrakers.” He looked closely at her LAtR-13 patch. “…yes, entirely possible.”

“Now, now, you sonuvabitch.” A familiar man’s voice could be heard.

“So the little mice have friends. Replacements, perhaps?” The Bull rose to his feet, turning around to see Luka and Karolina.

“Let’s settle this. Stand aside.” Luka smirked as he gestured Karolina to stand aside, perhaps out of stupid confidence or a genuine deathwish. Aiming his Kb-92 at the Bull seemed to make the mercenary exercise caution.

“That so?” The Bull scoffed.

“Sure is, partner.” Luka threw aside the Kb-92’s magazine, indicating he clearly was going to settle this… up close and personal.

The Bull came forth, his lunges and strikes being blocked with apparent ease by Luka, who was using his Kb-92 as if it were a saber.

Despite his apparent versatility at blocking the mercenary’s moves, he was slowly losing ground… if he didn’t strike, he’d soon be cornered against one of the pillars.

Four loud BANGS resounded, which apparently brought the powerhouse of a mercenary to his knees.

“You’re welcome.” Karolina holstered her Egzekutor pistol. It became readily apparent she’d shot the man’s shoulders and calves.

“Yeah, yeah…” Luka restrained the man with a pair of cuffs, dragging him by the collar of his shirt. “Deal with the other two for me.” He instructed Karolina.

Karolina approached Bianka and Niko, who were still seemingly paralyzed from whatever technique[5] the Bull had employed. “Can you move?” She asked.

“It was but a temporary blunder.” Niko got back to his feet, an anxious chuckle hiding the confusion he held at what the mercenary had said about Bianka…

“I… think I can. I owe you both my life.” Bianka replied, struggling to regain her bearings as she got back to her feet. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here…somehow.”

INTERROGATION
_{Evans Air Station}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/18/2018 - 6:45 PM IST}

Escaping the pyramid, of course, wasn’t an easy task. It involved explosives, the Republican Engineer Corps[6] and the painstaking task of dragging their injured HVT the entire stretch with them.

The Bull had become a prisoner in Turmenistanian custody, but his words had left Bianka with many questions. Dreamraker, something about Niko… there were questions to be answered.

“We meet again.” The man said. Despite the fact he’d been shot in the shoulders and calves, the authorities had still bound him to the bed with metal restraints — there was no such thing as being ‘too safe’ with the Bull.

“You have some explaining to do.”

“I suppose I do.” He nodded.

“First of all… do you even have a name?” Bianka leaned in, curious.

“I had a name once. I was born in the land you, of the civilized world… call the Heart of Darkness.” He went on. “I was taken from my land at a young age. A man took me in… he was a Boer mercenary. He taught me the ropes, he taught me the craft.” The merc sighed, as if deep in thought. “His name was Markus… I took the name after he kicked the bucket. After a while, I became known as the Bull. Don’t ask why.”

“So your name’s… Markus?” Bianka seemed interested in the mercenary’s tale.

“You can call me that, if you’d like.”

“What did you say about… Dreamraker?” Bianka questioned.

“Ah, Dreamraker…” He chuckled. “I know many people who know many things. Subdirector Hoover assures me that your country has a program… a mind control program. You can commit the most heinous crimes… and you won’t even remember it. You’ll think you were dreaming throughout it all… the program only involved fifteen people, from what I know, and that it got canceled once the MvH discovered its existence. Its victims, however, are still within the ranks of the Ludzowe Armie, unsuspecting of their own nature…”

What a preposterous story. Bianka felt certain this Markus fellow was lying to her… but she felt there was an ounce of truth somewhere in his words. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me? You’re an enemy combatant, you’ve killed countless Continental System troops… why would I trust you?”

“Because my contract with the Euphemians was ending, anyway. After all… you know why you’ve come to me. You desire answers… answers I possess.”

“Let’s say, hypothetically, you are telling me the truth… what happened at the CDI building?” Bianka pressed on.

“You and your squad detonated a Vaalbarium device outside of the CDI building, attacked while disguised as Weather Overground militants… tried to kill me. It failed. I paralyzed you, gave you two choices.” He explained. “Kill the girl in your squad, or kill the guy — Niko, was it?”

“Go on.” Bianka said.

“You picked him. I like to be a tricky person… so I shot the girl instead. What’d he do… for you to favor his death over hers?”

“I’ve heard all I need to know.” Bianka got up, leaving the Bull in his (rather heavily-guarded) hospital room. The walk to the barracks was one of apprehension and worry, her mind plagued with the thoughts of what she might’ve potentially done. Sure, Niko was a bit of an asshole… but did she really do such a thing under pressure?

Had she simply killed the Bull, she wouldn’t be in such a situation. The entire conversation had left her with more questions than answers. Her own sanity was coming into question… if she’d really wished death upon Niko, it would really be hard to look him in the eyes.

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - God - In the Polarist faith, the Arditekt (Supreme Architect in Ophiric and Ygarthene interpretations) is the supreme creator of the universe, represented by the Polar Star.

2 - Easterners - The inhabitants of Eastern Soren are known for their rural accent, their cowboy culture, and their rowdy nature.

3 - Faoron - The title of ancient rulers of ancient Ophir. The structures paying tribute to kings, emperors, god-kings and god-emperors, all under the universal title of ‘Faoron’, have been mostly overtaken by the jungle or the desert.

4 - BE - Before Eclipse in the Valefontene interpretation. In the Edenist faith, a sect of Polarism, the same letters are used to describe Before Eden, that is, time preceding the year 1/25/1725.

5 - technique - The martial arts utilized by the Bull originate from an exiled branch of monks from Tangaliro who journeyed south. The term roughly translates to the Death-point striking technique of Shannan.

6 - Republican Engineer Corps - The engineer branch of the Augustan army.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Thu Apr 12, 2018 7:41 pm

Glensville-on-Delta, Euphemie
F.S.E. Administrated Territory

On the western region of the Kubwa River, in currently Euphemian controlled territory northwest of Chakibe, was positioned the small town of Glensville-on-Delta, seemingly named by someone who did not know what a Delta was because it was ninety miles from the Kubwa River itself and hundreds if not thousands from an actual Delta. Glensville-on-Delta was important because it was positioned on a rare asphalt road leading from the Kubwa and snaking through jungle, breaking up into multiple paths spanning the core area around the west side of the river. It was also, so Eric heard, currently where a couple of Euphemian Mastodon tanks were located. He couldn't verify the authenticity of these reports, but then again, the only requirements to getting a free pass to Augusta was "fuck shit up", and attacking towns like Glensville were the best way of accomplishing that without being blown up.

The best Eric had to go on for information was a series of online maps he printed out, after taking over a gas station and being lucky enough to get a good internet connection. The town didn't have a garrison though, and the idea of 'international law' was going to hell in a handbasket. Perhaps sending a message would do some good? He had formed up three strike teams, two of which were to fan out around the surrounding countryside and causing havoc while he would go with the third and see what there was to offer in Glensville. The town being mostly serviced by a nearby train station, and a small one at that, there wouldn't really be many avenues of escape for the tanks Eric was looking for. Well, if he could find them - those reports were still rumors.

The attack plan was simple: Drive up to the City Hall and take everyone inside hostage, look for anything of military value and then round up the residents. Once the residents were assembled and any possible Mastadons were dealt with, Eric was going to put this entire town to the torch and go blow up the train station to prevent Federal forces from using it. After that, he would find another town to attack. He hadn't gotten that far in planning yet. In reality, he didn't need to. When your entire strategy is random chaos, it's hard for the enemy to react. And chaos was the style of uneven warfare Eric liked to practice best.

When the plan was actually executed though, not everything exactly as intended. The fight for Glensville started when the posse of vehicles engaged in a firefight with a police car right outside the town, spooking the residents into hiding. They then drove to the city hall, were a few Euphemie soldiers presumably on leave exchanged bullets and killed three of Eric's mercenaries before dying themselves. The city hall was captured after another additional security officer was taken hostage. Later they received word that one of the groups Eric sent out had neutralized the local power grid, knocking lights off just as the first firefight with the police had started. Although he was relieved to hear that no cries for help would be coming any time soon, he still felt anxious about the fact that they had only just barely managed to prevent local army reservists from mobilizing. A more pressing concern though was the Mastadons. What Eric had heard was just rumor, there were no tanks. Any that were there before were gone.

This somewhat disappointed him, because he wouldn't get the opportunity to deprive Euphemie of millions of dollars in high-grade weaponry with a couple sticks of dynamite. He figured to himself that they were perhaps at the train station nearby. Moving some soldiers around town to go collect jerry cans, he drove down with an armored escort to go take over the train station.

"Aww shit, shit! You see that?" a mercenary hissed into Eric's ear. Pulling up to the front of the seemingly unguarded train station, a few train cars were barely visible. On top of one of them was the target he was looking for. "Now that's one big son of a bitch. Get out, let's go check the buildings." he said. The three of so vehicles were parked along the road leading alongside it, as the group dismounted and walked towards the three buildings on the property. As Eric and two others walked to the front of the main terminal building, a seemingly dazed soldier probably supposed to be guarding the train's cargo walked outside. Eric's gun raised and he set off the alarm, putting a few shots into the side of the soldier. The mercenaries scrambled to life, entering the buildings and trading gunfire with the few occupants. There were... surprisingly few guards though. Eric put the body count at maybe a dozen, including the seven or eight crew for the Mastadons they found. Was Euphemie really so desperate for soldiers on the front?

A few boxes of plastic explosive, stolen from a destroyed supply truck they found near the border were brought up and placed inside the tanks themselves. Very regrettably, they couldn't operate these tanks and thus were going to have to destroy them. True to their reputation for being tough nuts to crack, the turrets of both tanks didn't fly off as they had anticipated even when detonated from inside. The interior though would make these two Mastadons effectively worth only the price of scrap metal, there was no repairing what C4 did to the targeting computers and breech. Appeased, Eric and the others drove back to town.

Returning to town, word spread about the two Mastadons the crew had found. Their success didn't last too long however. A explosion heard in the distance returned everyone's attention to reality, and found them gazing at a cloud of fire erupting from the area around the explosion. Looking up in the sky, Eric and others could see a Euphemian jet. He didn't need to think about what to say. "Everyone, disperse and get in the houses! If you're designated for carrying an anti-air launcher, pull it out and try to take that thing out!" he ordered. Most of the men around town started running for cover or just dispersed into the general area, while a couple of men rushed to pull anti-air weaponry out of vehicles. One of them acquired such a weapon and targeted the jet as it turned to go in the direction of the town. After a few tense seconds, a lock was acquired and a missile fired.

The enemy jet spun to it's left and deployed decoys to avoid the missile. It missed most of the decoys, but the clearly experienced pilot moved out of the missiles path at the last second. Another mercenary also tried locking on as the enraged pilot moved to perform what would likely be a strafing run. Another missile went off, this time the pilot pulled up while deploying decoys. The missile avoided the decoys and slammed right into the middle of the planes underbelly, turning the entire plane into shrapnel and taking it's pilot with it. To intense cheering and celebration, the plume of smoke dissipated as the remnants fell to the ground.

In the aftermath, Eric thought about what this meant. Clearly, they had pissed off the Euphemie military to the point where they were diverting pilots from the skies of Tangarilo to prevent the destruction of tanks and kill mercenaries roaming behind the front lines. He couldn't have just expected not to meet resistance, but a jet... it was a pretty impressive feat to take that down. It also meant he just put a target on his back. He was going to have to get out of this area, fast. Glensville would be "free", again. The mercenaries pulled out of town in their vehicles, and regrouped with the other men Eric sent out across the area. Eric got the idea in his head that he couldn't do brazen things like capturing Glensville anymore, he would need to try to limit his actions in the future. He and his men disappeared into the jungle, waiting and preparing for their next move against the Euphemie warmachine.

by **Ygartha** » Thu Apr 12, 2018 11:25 pm

REINFORCEMENTS
_{FBO KRINOEN, OLMAR BAY
FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF YGARTHA
3/21/2018 | 3:30 PM IST}

AMBIANCE

FBO Krinoen, one of the fourteen FSK(1) Forward Bases of Operations (FBO) in Olmar Bay, was alight with military activity today. Soldiers who had been there for weeks, who had been there for months, and even some for years were finally gathering along the nearby shores to watch a pair of massive transport ships glide towards the port of Olmar Bay. Few of them particularly knew what was within those ships, but seeing reinforcements arriving at all was a huge boost of morale to the soldiers. Each ship gave a resounding blow of it's horns to the coasts of Olmar Bay, both to announce their presence and to greet the thousands of men stationed in this small corner of the world. Finally, help arrived.

Situated approximately 12 miles north of Olmar Bay proper, Krinoen was effectively a functioning village with the number of soldiers it housed; 3,000 and some more troops belonging to a miriad of military units. The 101st "Troopie Scouts" Regiment(2), all organized under GHC Olmar Bay(3), was one of the largest based here. The light infantry unit was primarily rivaled by the 207th "Sky Warriors" Squadron(4), belonging to the FLM(5), was also in the vicinity of FBO Krinoen; their arsenal of 18 Horrell Ostvalk Mk. 115's(6) were one of Krinoen's finest assets, due to the limited air support available in this region. Many other elements of other units, mostly reserves or auxiliary support units sent to support the garrison, were also based here.

As the cargo ships pulled into port in Olmar Bay, it was likely they'd be unloading for most of the day. Krinoen's garrison dispersed from the shoreline to resume their daily duties about the facility. Many were grouped in HTS units(7), which served any number of uses within the base. These sizable green-tan tents were propped up in large columns throughout the facility, then grouped into different 'Wards.' There was a Medical Ward, where a mobile field hospital was propped up and surrounded by smaller medical HTS units. A Personnel Ward for all the troop accommodations, and housing soldiers in groups of 6. A Command Ward(8), Armory Ward(9), Logistics Ward(10), and Intelligence Ward(11) also existed. Beyond the HTS wards, there were a number of permanent, re-purposed structures in the FBO as well. The Air Traffic Controller for the adjacent airfield was situated in the encampment; there were radio towers as well, and even a slow but free internet connection provided by Olmar Bay for higher up officers in the facility. Many of the troops simply called it the 'Net for simplicity, but weren't often on it. Some apartment complexes and warehouses had been repurposed for military purposes as well, though mostly for additional housing, supply management or just room spacing. The facility was enclosed by a chain-link fence littered with watchtowers, and had a number of dug in positions watching Horizon Zero(12) in particular.

Horizon Zero was the flat grassland, often dried and torn up due to a lack of conservation efforts and good weather in recent years, that led directly to the northern border with Imalakia. Krinoen's primary purpose was to protect this border as it's closest stationing point, and if any soldier wasn't idly at base or specifically assigned there, then they were certainly positioned in any of the dozens of defensive positions along the border. The only thing in front of them was a singular road and sparse acacia trees among the grasslands, but for the most part this secure buildup was meant to deter any direct military incursions into Olmar Bay—through this border crossing, that is.

Alas', many of the hostile elements of Imalakia were described as being, “too cowardly to face their 'oppressors' with their own nationalistic zeal,” and tended to resort to indirect fire to draw out Ygarthene forces. Rockets, mortars, and sometimes just futile long distance shots were some of many methods the enemy attempted upon the garrison of Krinoen; it used to be a once a month occurrance, but in recent times conflict has escalated, and now attacks come once a week. The garrison was hesitant to open war with their former colony however, and tended to reserve counterfire when they could help it. Any casualties caused by an Imalakian strike were always responded with full force.

Now that reinforcements had arrived, the game plan would change. Change would be upon them and these loyal men and women, humans and lupis alike would all have to adapt to survive. War wouldn't remain consistent forever.

LITTLE OL' CONVOY
_{FBO KRINOEN, OLMAR BAY
FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF YGARTHA
3/21/2018 | 7:30 PM IST}

A convoy departed from Olmar Bay that evening, the vibrant sunset catching the sandy hues of the vehicles included in it. IFVs, APCs, Transports, and an entourage of Herhal(13) and Vleirat(14) tanks were all included in the massive deployment. Clearly, it meant big news for their destination. The convoy was over 40 vehicles long, and carried at least some 400 men. There were even light trucks accompanying it. Their target was easily identified in the near distance: FBO Krinoen.

One such vehicle wasn't quite the same as the others, though. It was all blacked out, and had an unusual symbol(15) on it's side. The vehicle was a mere armored car, but it was surrounded by some of the heaviest armed units in the convoy, clearly a high-value component..

Within that black vehicle, four individuals were seated, each one occupied with their own thoughts on their circumstances. The Driver was an enigma to the three, but that was how protocol demanded in their line of work. He was a federal asset, introduced into the Leger Intelligensie Korps(16) under the pretext of “serving and enabling the safe coordination of military regiments amidst troubled times in the Ophiric Front(17),” but what had come out of such a program was a readily armed mystery. He simply followed orders, but would not disclose much personal identification about himself.

Behind the Passenger sat a rather youthful but well ordained Lupid(18), clad in the uniform of the LIK and clearly showing a degree of rank. Her name was Riela Strathern, one of the more jovial members of the intelligence branch, but mature nonetheless. Her signature tail, a brown fluffy complement to her comparatively small form, lay draped across her lap as she watched out the blacked out windows at the eastward sky. The girl was a Lanster-Korporaal(19), and even had a handful of medals upon her formals, reminding those who didn't know her that she'd done her fair share of service thus far. Still, she wasn't really prepared mentally for this deployment to Olmar Bay.

Her eyes drifted to an initially low murring noise in the sky, but her immediate curiosity was sated by the appearance of an Oriatlas T-180(20), a formidable transport aircraft the FLM fielded to ferry heavy cargo around to Ygartha's various establishments. It was moving slowly, but in comparison to the convoy it was quickly crossing the sky as it descended towards Krinoen AFB(21). Many in the convoy watched it's descent, amazed by the appearance of it at all really. Just what was Command planning here, Riela wondered within the safety of her mind.

There remained two other individuals in that armored car, both considered Riela's superiors. The passenger beside her was a man of truly unknown origin, not even in an official uniform yet somehow attached to the LIK. It confused Riela, who didn't know much if anything of precious federal secrets, but she knew this man was important and opted not to interfere with him if she could help it. When his face wasn't concealed, his eyes were, always behind a set of shades. He was Human of course, but that was about the extent of what she knew about him. She'd been told to address him only as "Gauss," and nothing else. This was the first time she'd ever seen someone like him, so she was just trying to pretend he wasn't there.

The other passenger, in front of Riela, was another human woman whom she actually knew fairly well. She could only see the lush chestnut hair flowing against her seat, but recognized her higher-up uniform and soft, tan complexion without needing to see her face. Esther Orasmyn, as she was known, was a close friend of Riela. Born from a Ygarthene-Agrabani(22) union, she's a remarkable woman in Riela's eyes for her feats back in the November 2017 Maurisstadt Attacks(22); Esther was the one who actually encouraged Riela to apply for the LIK in the first place. Now, the Offisier-Opperste(23) was taking her informal 'prodigy' to a new beginning for her to gain some much needed field experience.

And so, Riela was left in awkward silence in the armored car. The Tv-180 had disappeared behind a row of tall buildings, but she knew right next to them lay the airstrip in the area, so it had no doubt landed. None of the individuals seemed to have anything to say to one another–until the Convoy came to a stop.

HOME SWEET HOME
_{FBO KRINOEN, OLMAR BAY
FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF YGARTHA
3/21/2018 | 8:45 PM IST}

Riela looked out the side of the vehicle, confused what had caused them to stop. However, she needn't worry longer, for it was precisely what she expected it to be. The convoy had arrived at FBO Krinoen, and she could hear Esther speaking in a language she did not know to the Driver, who then shifted their car out of the line and drove slowly towards a different entrance, where a group of riflemen were awaiting them. Once at the entrance, Esther looked over the edge of her seat; two amber eyes, that of a fellow Lupid, met Riela's cobalt blue ones.

"Welcome to Hell. Come on, I'll show you around," Esther told her with a toothy smile, showing more than humanly sharp ones amidst her smile before she hopped out of the armored car. Riela nodded nervously, and joined her too. The only thing the two had on them was two suitcases of personal belongings and Vektor SP1's(24). Riela didn't see Gauss disembark, but when she and Esther went around the vehicle to greet the guards and enter the base, Gauss was nowhere to be seen.

They walked past the various Wards of the facility, where both Esther and Riela got plenty of looks from huddles and groups of idle or wounded grunts. Not everyone always took kindly to the LIK, due to their secretive business. At the same time, not everyone was as tolerant of Lupids overseas as they were back home; in fact, most people who volunteered for service in the outer territories were pro-Humans, per se, and did not like it when Lupids were shipped over to work alongside them. Still, they were all Ygarthene, and a little xenophobia wouldn't come between two Ygarthenes and their opposition.

At one point, Riela briefly fell behind Esther and their escort, and before she could jog out to catch up to them, she tripped over someone's LGL R2(25) rifle and fell flat on her face, her tail flying up high before coming to rest atop her hair. A group of men and women around her shared a laugh directed at the clumsy wolfgirl, most simply leaving her to get herself up and go on her way.

"Sorry about that, I shouldn't have left my rifle out like that.. you alright?"

Just as Riela was about to get up, she saw a pale hand reach out to her, and looked up to see a particular soldier standing before her, offering her a hand up. Riela returned his kindness with a small grin, and took his hand, helping herself up the rest of the way and nodding. She noticed he seemed.. off. His physical appearance was an oddity, to say the least. Pale skin, a feminine hairstyle, soft features; if Riela didn't know better, she almost thought it was a woman helping her up. Riela just chose not to think too hard on it.

"Mhm. Thank you, err.." She glanced to his uniform, and found the surname "Karlisle," to which she then gave him a thankful smile. "Trooper(26) Karlisle. Oh! I need to be on my way!"

She gave a brief bow to him, and took off after Esther so as not to lose her guide. The bewildered soldier looked on at the fleeting Lupid, unsure what to make of such a bizarre woman. Karlisle, as he was known, wasn't exactly in a position to concern himself though, and took up his rifle and joined his squad in one of the tents.

Riela did manage to regroup with Esther and her guide, who did not seem too happy that Riela had gotten lost so easily, but let it slide for now. It was her first time here, so long as it wasn't a repeated mistake she tended to be tolerant of her actions. The two arrived at their destination: a sizable tan tent with numerous antennae protruding from it, as well as being adjacent to the permanent radio tower. It was one of the Intelligence Ward's tents, and most likely where Riela would be doing most of her work while at FBO Krinoen.

The two Lupids entered, and inside Riela saw exactly what she thought she would. Technology littered desks, tables and stands for all sorts of record keeping, data review and reconnaissance processing. It was one of three communications hubs in the base, and thus a hotspot for activity. Although, things seemed.. slow. Of the four background workers operating any of the various instruments in the tent, only one of them really seemed to be doing anything productive. Many of the machines added to this eerie inactivity with their silence, but when Esther arrived the soldiers stood up to attention.

One of them spoke up to brief her, "Offisier-Opperste Orasmyn, Sir! We have intelligence to get you up to speed on the situation present in Imalakia when you are ready!"

She waved for them to at ease, and took a seat at a long briefing table, giving a nod to the one who spoke to her. "Fetch it then. Riela–" She cut herself off before clearing her throat, recalling the others in this tent did not know her. "Everyone, this is Lanster-Korporaal Riela Strathern. You are to treat her with respect, and welcome her over the next week to Forward Base Krinoen. Understood?"

The four soldiers acknowledged her, the one who spoke to her delivering a series of pages and working on pulling up the electronic maps and data they'd received. That left Riela to smile to the three lower ranked soldiers, to give them her own proper introduction.

"Indeed, and I look forward to working with all of you!" She spoke honestly.

The group welcomed her in after that. This unit of 6, consisting of Riela, Esther, and the four intelligence soldiers accompanying them, would be one of the most crucial components for whatever operation Command was planning for them. For now, the new reinforcements had to get settled into their new base of operations.

Then the Federal Republic could retaliate in full force.

Footnotes:
(1) - Federale Strijdkrachten (FSK), the Federal Armed Forces.
(2) - 101st "Troopie Scouts" Regiment, a light infantry airborne unit in the FSK.
(3) - GHC Olmar Bay is a Ground Headquarters Command, a section of the order of battle making up the FSK.
(4) - A squadron of the ensuing FLM air force.
(5) - Federale Luchtmacht (FLM), the Federal Air Force.
(6) - The Horrell Ostvalk Mk. 115 is Ygartha's 5th generation multi-role aircraft.
(7) - See image; HTS are Rapid Deployment Shelters, and have a multitude of roles.
(8) - The Command Ward is for officers and high-ranking individuals to coordinate the facility.
(9) - The Armory Ward is where extra supplies, unassigned vehicles and other armaments are stored.
(10) - The Logistics Ward is where humanitarian supplies, rations, and auxiliary military equipment is stored.
(11) - The Intelligence Ward is the hub for all communication to and from the facility.
(12) - Horizon Zero is the nickname for the northern border FBO Krinoen overlooks.
(13) - Herhal tanks, coming in variants of Mk. II, III, and IV, are the standard main battle tank of Ygartha.
(14) - The Vleirat Light Tank is an additional vehicle in service for Ygartha.
(15) - ███████████
(16) - Leger Intelligensie Korps (LIK), the Army Intelligence Corps.
(17) - The Ophiric Front is a general term to represent Ygartha's ongoing involvement in West Ophiric conflicts.
(18) - Lupis (Lupid singular) are another civilized species native to The Cape of Ygartha. They are an integral part of Ygarthene society, and are frequently seen co-existing alongside Humans. They're most remarkable feature is their lupine tail, their canine teeth and, in some cases, a set of wolf-like ears appearing out of their head. They are often chalked up to being 'wolf-people.'
(19) - Lanster-Korporaal, or Lance Corporal.
(20) - The Oriatlas T-180 is a heavyweight transport aircraft in service for Ygartha.
(21) - Krinoen AFB is adjacent to FBO Krinoen, and services all FLM aircraft stationed there.
(22) - Agrabani meaning, from the nation of Agrabah.
(23) - Offisier-Opperste, or Officer Superior. Equal to a Major.
(24) - The Vektor SP1 is a standard sidearm for any soldier of the FSK.
(25) - The LGL R2 is a standard firearm for any rifleman of the FSK.

by **Valefontaine** » Fri Apr 13, 2018 9:21 am

BROAD DAYLIGHTS
_{Evans Air Station}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/20/2018 - 9:05 AM IST}

Niko was awake by now, an uneventful sleep being interrupted by the roar of aircraft engines in the early morning — presumably a Turmenistanian or Augustan air mission. Luka and Karolina weren't in the room, as they were off grabbing breakfast. They were early to rise on most days, after all. Bianka was still fast asleep, muttering something to herself as she moved about in her bunk.

Curious, he hopped out of bed and listened in.

"Maltt..." She muttered. "I..."

He nudged Bianka awake, curious to see her reaction.

"Who's Maltt?" Niko asked, smirking.

"What?" Bianka muttered, rubbing her eyes as she woke up from a rather deep sleep.

"I dunno, you were muttering about some Maltt guy..." Niko shrugged.

"Fuck you." Even in the dim lighting of the room, it was quite obvious her face had gotten quite flushed at the realization she'd been talking in her sleep. Getting out of bed, she slowly adjusted to her surroundings.

"The others are off eating breakfast." Niko changed the subject.

"Please tell me the food from the mainland's arrived... tired of eating Turmie MREs." Even if there were local MacArthur's™[1] joints on the island, nothing compared to the high quality meals from home. Bianka was a picky eater, and that made life in a Turmenistanian base especially hard.

"Sure has. I intend on starting my day with some good ol' Kafé i Leicze."[2] Niko began his way to the door, but stopped to look back to Bianka. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Maybe at breakfast you can tell me more about this Maltt guy."

"Go fuck yourself!"

5:20 AM IST

Showers were relatively easy enough. Valefontene troops were known among the CS to be quite obsessive about hygiene, after all... Bianka had concluded her usual morning routine, gotten into a new pair of fatigues, and was off to get breakfast... the cafeteria was its busy usual, mostly Valefontene soldiers at this hour.

Tray in hand, Bianka was lost in her thoughts. The way Niko acted was sometimes grating, and yet other times he could be honest, motivating her not to lose hope... it made Bianka feel conflicted as to how to deal with him. Surely any other squad leader would've reported someone like him for disciplinary violations, and yet Bianka would never consider such a thing. Was it like her to be this nice?

As it came her turn to make an order, she was quite relieved that Valefontene food was, indeed, on the menu.

The usual she'd order while at base: cereal, milk, and kafé.

Carrying her tray to the table Niko, Luka and Karolina had situated themselves, she found they had a pleasant view of the aircraft passing their ways by. While typically she'd pull out her phone to begin texting her friends back home and her friends in TheInterstice, Bianka didn't feel like getting teased any further by Niko.

"The Anowans are sure getting serious on Euphemie. Nuclear strike group and all..." Niko said, listening in on a nearby TV tuned to VFN™.[3]
"No kidding." Karolina remarked, carton of orange juice in hand. "Damn glad they're on our side."

"Hey, Luka." Bianka looked to Luka, who seemed to be spacing out in thought...

"What's up?" He leaned forward, now fully attent.

"When you and that mercenary were fighting... what martial art was that?"

"Traditional Valefontene Martial Arts. Learned it real early, when I was a kid. Might not look — or sound — like it... but I descend from one of 'em... families of aristocracy, you know what I'm sayin'? ... it was just like fencin' to me, except I was usin' a gun instead of a sword..." It was indeed a surprise for someone with such an unsophisticated accent to come from such... sophisticated roots.
"Huh..." Bianka herself was pretty surprised at such a revelation. She looked to Karolina. "Thanks for saving my ass back there."

"It was nothing." She smiled. Unbeknownst to Bianka, Karolina was probably reveling in how ironic — or comedic, perhaps, it was that two MvH agents had managed to take out the Bull, who'd managed to kill so many LAtR-13, Turmenistanian Army and Augustan Army soldiers with ease.

The sun was gradually rising in the horizon, bathing the cafeteria in a beautiful orange light.

The loudspeakers interrupted their brief moment of bliss.

"LAtR-13, 12. Falsczhirmkompania, 4. Platun Husaria, 3. Sektion... report to hangar for briefing..."

5:45 AM IST

3. Sektion had hardly had the time to finish their breakfast, and the wait for whoever was going to brief them was quite a bore.

"I wonder when Euphemie's gonna cross the line... invade Turmenista proper. That'll be when the war really picks up." Niko thought aloud.

"It probably won't be long." Bianka shrugged. "I've also heard the Euphemians are planning something big... rumors about strategic assets getting moved around the country. Warheads."
A door opened, revealing a man in a medal-adorned uniform — General Fernando Joppel. His exploits were well-known: Kalahari, Angevin, Ydelheid... Neckbreaker. He was one of the more well-known Valefontene commanders in Ophir, known by his subordinates not only as a leader, but a philosopher and thinker. If he was heading this briefing, it certainly pertained to the war effort at large.
"No wonder the quality of things at base has improved. Man's got high standards." Niko whispered.

"Be quiet!" Bianka whispered back.

"Morning, ladies and gentlemen." Fernando began. "Today's operation will be simple: go into Euphemie, steal a Vaalbarium warhead."

Was he being ironic? Bianka couldn't be sure. The man was known to be an eccentric, too; word had gone round of his addiction to kafé, drinking copious amounts of the caffeinated beverage to keep himself, as he put it, 'at peak performance'.
"...care to explain more, sir?" Bianka meekly questioned.

"Of course, sierzant." The general nodded, heartily chuckling to himself. "The Euphemian Strategic Air Defense System, they call it ESAD, relies on the transportation of its strategic assets by truck — lately dissidents have been sabotaging the rail lines. You're going to drop in and wipe out a convoy. Usually these trucks are escorted by M151 Wombat MRAPs... to which one of you will be given a certain weapon."

He opened a crate, showing to them a bizarre abomination of a weapon. A rocket launcher, with various electronics and systems attached to it, with four tubes.

"This weapon can lock onto, and fire upon, four targets at once. It's not a prototype per se, moreso something we'd never in our right minds give to the standard infantryman."

"...I see." Bianka was a bit awestruck at the bizarre weapon.

"I almost forgot to ask: which one of you can operate an AT launcher?"

"Myself and I." Niko raised his hand, a grin across his face. Though Bianka had destroyed a Balthazar tank before, she didn't actually have any training with AT weapons — so it'd be ideal for Niko to be entrusted with such a device. Not that Niko had a problem with it... the opposite, in fact. Using such a crazy weapon seemed to be quite the thrill.

"Very well, then." Fernando continued. "Your insert will be by a KoN-88 strategic reconnaissance craft. There'll be a distraction to keep the helicopters escorting the convoy at bay. Once you destroy the convoy and hijack the truck, you'll meet up with Vipr's team at a farmstead a few miles southeast of your insertion point: Ram Ranch. There, you'll take the warhead from the missile, then you'll head to a small airstrip a bit to the north, and you'll make a clean exfil by private jet. All these locations will be visible on your HUD, so don't worry about directions. CS satellites will be able to mark enemies, and the convoy itself, on your behalf. Any questions?"

The silence that followed answered his question... it was time.

6:45 AM EST

"What is up with these spacesuits?" Niko muttered, annoyed with the bulky pressurized suits they were wearing.

"They're called Full Pressure Suits." Bianka corrected. "...do you know how high we are in the atmosphere right now? We'll take them off when we touch down."

"...are we seriously goin' to... jump from the stratosphere?" Luka questioned, laughing nervously.

"I've been in more life-threatening situations." Bianka replied.

"...um, how high are we?" Karolina asked. The one thing she'd forgotten to tell Luka when they had the clever idea of infiltrating an airborne unit: she was direly afraid of heights.

"About 90,000 feet above the Ausozeran surface. Don't worry, our parachutes will automatically open up at 3,500 feet... if they don't, I'll tell you when to pull chutes." Bianka explained.

That statement clearly didn't ease Niko or Karolina...

"We're closing in on Irithyll, ladies and gentlemen." The pilot announced.

"But... it's only been twenty minutes?" Bianka asked, confused.

"That's a KoN-88 Phoenix for you, sierzant." The pilot chuckled.
Soon enough, a green light illuminated the passenger bay, indicating it was time to drop.

"Thank you for choosing Fuck Euphemie Airlines." The pilot announced.

"Hope you're all ready." Bianka stood up, approaching the doors.

"Here goes nothin' ..." Luka seemed to be the more enthusiastic one among the group.

"R-right!" Niko joined them at the doors, with Karolina wordlessly following suit.

Here went nothing...

The doors opened, and the drop began at a baffling speed. Bianka's heart was racing as she made her descent. The pressurized suits made things impressively quiet, and they'd be able to freely communicate by radio as they made their descent — the suits allowed for a closed network of communications.

"Well, what do you think?" Bianka excitedly asked.

"This is the craziest fuckin' shit I've ever done in my life!" Luka exclaimed, hollering with anticipation.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!!!" Niko, on the other hand, was clearly terrified as he descended.

"Y-you said the chutes were automatic?!" Karolina asked on the other end.

"Yeah, don't worry!" Bianka replied.

The Ausozeran surface drew nearer and nearer as they descended, the radio chatter filled with Niko and Karolina's screams as they approached the troposphere.

"How much longer?!" Karolina was terrified as ever.

"Right about..." Bianka was jolted back as her chute automatically opened. Being rather large, it served to lessen their speed of descent as they gradually neared the surface.

"I shouldn't have eaten breakfast before this!" Luka chuckled, between incomprehensible muttering, excited yelling and hollering.

"I shouldn't have signed up..." Niko lamented.

Below them, mountain and desert stretched as far as the eye could see. The distant lights of a city — no doubt Irithyll itself, lay ahead. Between some rocks and dunes, a blue marker was on their HUD, no doubt their designated landing spot. Off in the distance, an objective marker and several red markers were traveling along a stretch of highway. Bianka could only assume this was the convoy.

At last, they touched down. The suits were far from easy to get out of — they were designed to be pressurized, and had various safety locks to prevent a depressurization. Eventually, however, Bianka did get out of her Full Pressure Suit, only to realize Niko and Karolina were off to the side, lurching as they vomited the morning's breakfast onto the sand.

The most composed individual beside herself was Luka, who was admiring the desert. "Just like home." He smiled.

"I assume you're from east Soren." Bianka raised an eyebrow, looking to him.

"And I assume you're from west Soren." Luka knelt down to make use of his suit's backpack, taking the Kb-92 he'd brought along for the trip.

"By Eden's good name..." Niko muttered, resting beside his Full Pressure Suit. He'd taken the launcher from the backpack attached to the suit, and was idly staring at the strange machination.

"God..." Karolina staggered to her feet, KbK in hand. The drop had disoriented her, and she was still trying to regain her bearings.
Slowly, the objective marker made its approach in the distance. There were numbers beneath the marker, indicating how far away it was from them. It surely wouldn't be long before that 2000m became 1000m, and that 1000m became 500m... so they'd have to get in position fast before that came to pass.

"This'll help us." Bianka took a TV17 from the suit's storage compartment, setting it upon the dune. "And now, we wait." She descended the dune back to the small relief where 3. Sektion was situated, as to not draw attention from the convoy... which was on its gradual approach.

"What if we accidentally destroy the truck?" Karolina asked, nervous.

"Don't worry about it!" Niko climbed up the dune, going prone as he kept the launcher trained on the highway.

Surely enough, the convoy came, headlights illuminating the highway as it approached. The device locked onto the four MRAPs escorting the truck with ease...

"Sierzant?" He called out to Bianka.

"You're good to go." Bianka gave him a thumbs up from where she stood at the base of the dune.

Simply nodding, he clamped down on the trigger. Four rockets jettisoned out of the tubes, guiding themselves toward their targets.

BOOM

Four explosions later, and the truck had come to a screeching halt, the burning wreckage of the MRAPs blocking its path.

"Go!" Bianka ordered, charging up the dune as she led the squad to the truck.

"What in the goddamn?!" The driver was clearly disoriented by what'd just happened, and Bianka was feeling merciful. Pulling him out of the vehicle, she simply discarded his radio and shot it, leaving him unable to call for help. Assuming the driver seat as the rest of the squad climbed aboard, she began the drive south. Another marker was on their map: Ram Ranch. This was where the second team was, and where they'd disassemble the missile and subsequently take the warhead.
"That was... too easy!" Niko exclaimed, laughing.

"...not really." Bianka glanced at the side-view mirror, taking note of the... absurd amount of police cars that were tailing them, sirens blaring.

"Fuck!" Luka clutched his Kb-92, ready to fire at any police cars daring enough to attempt shooting the driver... luckily that didn't happen. Heading off-road, the police maintained pursuit. None dared ram their vehicle, perhaps out of fear of the truck's hazardous contents.

A wooden sign reading 'RAM RANCH' indicated they were on the right path. Smashing through the gates of the ranch, Bianka brought the vehicle to a halt, trailer facing the farmstead's garage.

The Irithyll PD were in over their heads. As their Forke™[4] Crown Paulina™[5] sedans stopped outside the ranch, the officers immediately came under machinegun fire from inside the ranch. The suppression that ensued was enough for Bianka and her team to hurry indoors.

"Consider me impressed!" Bianka hurried inside with her team, immediately running into the leader of the second squad: the 'Vipr' Joppel had spoken of.

"I've heard a lot about you." Vipr chuckled, taking a few shots at the surviving police officers outside.

"Likewise." Bianka paused. "Who's going to handle the warhead?"

"My men have prepared for this. Gryf and Zolik are on it."

"Fair enough." Bianka nodded.

"...if you could help me get these fuckers..." Vipr added, gunning down several more cops.

"S-sure." Bianka joined him at the window, opening fire at the policemen. Behind them, Gryf and Zolik had returned, the warhead in their hands. "That thing... it's safe to handle, right?"

"Warhead's safe. Stuff inside it ain't." Vipr replied matter-of-factly.

More red markers were approaching on Bianka's HUD.

"Enemies approaching." Bianka announced. "Venus Lake National Guard."

"How do you know?" Vipr asked, then realized. "Ah, right. You use the goggles. I don't... makes the experience a lot more... exciting." He chuckled.
To the surprise and shock of both, a Mastodon tank came over the hill.

"Fucking hell!" Vipr ducked, gesturing Bianka to likewise get down — she obviously complied.

"I don't have much ammo left on this." Niko hurried to the window, locking on and taking a shot at the tank. Two of the rockets managed to hit the tank despite its countermeasure systems — and two rockets were enough, quite evidently. The ammo was set alight, transforming the armored beast into a burning wreck.
MRAPs appeared to be approaching the compound, judging by the markers on Bianka's HUD.

"FUCKTON of National Guard coming." Bianka said. "How much time do we need?"

"One moment." Vipr hurried off into the farmhouse's kitchen, where Gryf and Zolik were hard at work with the warhead. "What's the holdup?"

"Trackers. We're good to load this badboy onto our ride." Gryf replied.

"GET MOVING, SIERZANT!" Vipr called out to Bianka.

"We've definitely pissed these people off..." Karolina muttered.

3. Sektion followed close behind Vipr's men, boarding an up-armored SUV decked out in ERA plating, machineguns in the windows, and a single GMG mounted on top: the ideal getaway car.

"What an interesting vehicle..." Bianka remarked, climbing aboard with her squad.

"It's been my side hobby for a few weeks. Shame I'll have to let it go." Vipr replied, climbing into the driver seat.
In no time, they'd set off. The SUV handled offroad quite well, even with multiple MRAPs and Dumvees[6] in pursuit. Occasionally their pursuers would open fire at the vehicle, to no avail.

Bianka's radio flickered to life — it was quite a surprise that the Euphemians had gotten onto their comms.

"Stand down and you'll be treated with the legal rights of a prisoner of war! Refuse and we'll have no choice but to exercise the full might of the Federal Army!"

"Kiss my ass!" Bianka replied.

"Watch this..." Luka hurried to man the GMG, aiming it at the Euphemian vehicles chasing them through the brush. Opening fire, several of the unarmored Dumvees were immediately destroyed by GMG fire, their burning wrecks smashing into the larger, better-armored MRAPs beside them. An explosion brought a morbid end to several of the vehicles, to which Luka returned to his seat. "Just had to get that out of my system."

"The Euphemians aren't playing around..." Karolina said.

"Of course they aren't. Us stealing this Vaalbarium warhead sets their plans to level Nw'engo back by a few weeks." Gryf, one of Vipr's squadmates, said.

"We're coming onto the highway." Vipr announced. The SUV, for a brief moment, was in the air as it traversed a dune, hitting the asphalt of the highway with a loud THUD.

"Is that an 18-wheeler coming up?!" Bianka pointed ahead.

"All the better." Vipr smirked, switching lanes to the left side of the road — putting him on a direct collision course with the truck, which carried a large stainless steel fuel payload.

"They aren't fucking arou—" Niko ducked as the armored glass on the rear window finally shattered. "GUYS!"

"I suggest all of you duck." Vipr said.

The 18-wheeled, without a choice, swerved to its left, blocking the right lane. In turn, the SUV swerved left, drifting as the Dumvees passed by and slammed directly into the truck. The explosion that ensued was a spectacle of flame and destruction, the shockwave alone almost knocking their SUV over.

"Ho-ly fuckin' shit." Luka chuckled, in sheer awe at the devastation Vipr had incurred with his clever maneuver.

"Airstrip ain't far." Vipr noted. "Rest of the trip should be a bit more peaceful."
Surely enough, they found themselves at the airstrip, a single private jet waiting for them there. Hurriedly, Vipr brought the vehicle to a stop beside the aircraft, Gryf and Zolik carrying the warhead into the craft with haste.

"Fucking hell..." Karolina was first to climb aboard, visibly exhausted from the action-packed experience they'd been involved in for... awhile, now... considering the sun had already risen past the horizon.

"They're here!" Niko hurried inside, with Bianka and Luka in tow. More Dumvees were on the approach, taking potshots at them — but failing to hit anything.

"Go, go!" Vipr ordered.

"Roger that." The pilot responded. The jet's engines came to life, the low hum rising to a roaring crescendo as the aircraft sped down the runway, sharply rising into the air as Euphemian vehicles attempted in vain to block the highway.
"The entire Air National Guard is about to be all over our asses, without a doubt." Vipr sighed.

"Nah, don't worry about it." The pilot explained. "Augustans and Turmenistanians sent a few squadrons into the airspace to distract them. Bastards think we're going to bomb them... heh, that comes later."

Their jet soared on, flying near the surface to maintain a low radar profile. In no time, they'd be crossing the Turmenistanian border as heroes.

Collis Palatium
_{Lee, District of Ophir}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{9:45 AM EST}

President George Fern stood idly in the Round Office, his quarters. A dire matter of national security had been brought to his attention: Valefontene special forces had made off with a Vaalbarium warhead, which would set his plans to enact his shock and awe campaign on Turmenista back by... a few weeks, in the least. This bothered the man.

A knock on his door resounded, bringing him out of his train of thought. Judging by the quantity of knocks, a man he knew well...

"Come on in." Fern said.

Entering the room was Alexander Cleveland, Secretary of War — and one of Fern's most trusted associates. "I'm certain you've heard of the news." Cleveland began.

"Of course. Anything you know that I don't?"

"I know the name of the soldier that'll be #1 on the ISA's Most Wanted List."

The mention of this brought Fern to attention. "Is this person... the one who stole the warhead?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

The SECWAR extended his hand, passing Fern a photo with a name written in sharpie...

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - MacArthur's™ - Popular Augustan food joint.

2 - Kafé i Leicze - Coffee and Milk

3 - VFN™ - Valefontanisczh Radfunknetvork, or VFN, is the VDR's state-owned broadcasting service.

4 - Forke™ - The Forke Motor Company is one of the automotive giants in Euphemie.

5 - Crown Paulina™ - Crown Paulinas are largely used by Euphemian police departments, and have become a symbol of authority and the enforcement of law.

6 - Dumvee - Standard issue Euphemian infantry mobility vehicle. Though there are up-armored variants, most national guard units aren't equipped with them.

by **Tangaliro** » Sat Apr 14, 2018 5:55 am

This is a collab post between me and Valefontane, line breaks (Except the one immediately below the quote box.) signify swap in authorship like it does in Augusta's post, but from Tangaliro to Valefontane instead.

I am Osas, Jordan Osas. My father was from Turmenista, he enlisted in the Tangaliroan Army and earned his citizenship for his service many years ago. If it hadn't been his bravery, my life would have been entirely different. And now, I am following my father's path, to serve the country with my strength and wisdom.

~SPZ Jordan Osas "Big Joe", member of Alpha Team, Special Operation Platoon, 88th Mechanized Division, TNA

Evans Air Station
Enfield, Arcadia Island, Turmenista
4/19/2018
8:00 AM IST

Weather: Sunny

It is another relatively peaceful day for the garrison on the Arcadia Island, but today, something different appeared in the skies above the Evans Air Station. It is a pair of Vi-44, or by the Tangaliroan codename for it, TX-44, bearing Tangaliroan insignia. Considering that the TNA has been devoting their efforts on their southern border against the FSE, and that there has been no major Tangaliroan deployment near the island except the Tangaliroan deployment in Amama. It is quite an unusual sight for the men garrisoning the air station.

The pair of Vi-44s drew closer to the air station, and after receiving signals from the ATC, slowly landed on two helipads within the airbase, an approximate of 20 people in Tangaliroan uniform walks out from the choppers, if anyone is to be looking at them right now, they would notice that the gears of the team seems to be quite dirty, it seems like they have probably gone through a huge fight before arriving here.

"Well well, it sure is one hell of a place. I pity whoever has to stay in here for mission sake." Freak said, looking around the air station.

"Sierzant." Chen Wu said.

"Right, right."

Deng looked around, and approached for the nearest officer.

“Good morning, sir. We are the Tangaliroan dispatch previously mentioned in the radio communication from our Amama garrison yesterday. May I inquire for the whereabouts of Sierzant Ziekowski under the Valefontene LAtR-13?” Deng asked, with his usual business smile.

"Barracks, E7." The officer replied. As was typical of Valefontene troops, he spoke fluent Sinican, as it was a requirement.

"Thanks."Deng nodded, and turned to the rest of the group, "That way, soldiers."

By this time, much of the base was already awake and busy: the cafeteria busy with Augustan and Turmenistanian soldiers. The corridors of the barracks wing were filled with soldiers and officers alike discussing various matters, both related and unrelated to the war at hand. Finally, they reached a door marked E7.

Deng politely knocked the door.

The doorknob slowly turned, to which they were met by a rather short Valefontene girl.

"What's the matter?" She asked.

"We are the recent Tangaliroan dispatch to the island. If the documents we got earlier aren't wrong, are you Sierzant Ziekowski?" Deng inquired in fluent Valefontene[1].

"Indeed, that is me." Bianka replied. The rest of her squad was inside, their attention drawn to the news: widespread race riots in Euphemie.

"Very well. We are originally supposed to be here to inquire for intelligence regarding The Bull about a week ago. However, we have been caught in the middle of a major IAF offensive on our way here. The airspace was not clear for us to proceed here until yesterday."

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Deng Chang, head of the Tangaliroan ISB Paramilitary Operation Unit Beta Team, this is Sierzant Karl Wen, the squad leader of the Alpha Team under the Special Operation Platoon of our 88th Mechanized Division." Deng said, leaning aside to give space for the rather short man behind him.

"Hello there, sierzant." Karl saluted.

"My team captured him yesterday with success. What do you need to know about it?" Bianka asked.

"Ah, allow me to congratulate you for your achievement." Deng said.

"Well, thats a bit awkward, but originally we are supposed to inquire you for the way The Bull fights before we launch our own attempt against him. But it seems theres no need now."

"However, it would still be of great value for us if you can be so generous to share with us his fighting style. While The Bull himself is now captured, his merceneries still lurks around in the jungles, we may need that information against his remaining henchmen later on." A man next to Karl added, the uniform of the man looked far more tidy compared to the rest of the team, it seems he has taken some time during the flight to get all those mud off his gears. If Bianka would look carefully on his dog tag, she will be able to see the name of the man, which is "Chen Wu", written in both Sinican and Valefontene.

"I don't know how to put it except that it... paralyzes people." Bianka explained. "The book we found during one of the raids seems to be his method... pressure points and the like."

"I was unable to move for, like, five minutes after he used one of his moves... and then suddenly I could move again." She added, as if confused by how such a martial art even worked.

"Interesting." Freak replied.

"Well, I guess we are here at the right time, Osas, you got any clue?[2]" He turned toward another man in the squad, the man, who is named Osas, holds the skin tone and facial feature of an South Ophiran. But what would impress Bianka would be his size. The man has a bulky profile that can rival The Bull himself, however, despite the fierce profile, the man seems calm and disciplined.

"Nice to meet you, Sierzant." Osas greeted, in a calm tone.

"Likewise." Bianka replied. "After we apprehended him, we were rescued out of the pyramid by the Republican Engineer Corps."

"I see." Freak nodded.

"May I take a look at the book you found? Madam?" Osas asked.

Bianka nodded, looking to one of her squadmates. "Niko, fetch me the yellow book."

"Yeah, yeah." He replied, handing her the book and returning to watching TV.

"Here you go." Bianka handed the man the yellow book...

"Hmmm, interesting. The Shannan Monks[3], when was the last time their name has been heard in the Jianghu[4] again?" Osas muttered, opening the book and reading through the pages.

While Osas is busy reading, a rather young soldier among the group looked over from behind some other men. The soldier looks approximately slightly younger than Bianka, with acnes all across his face, but what distinguishes him from the rest of the group the most is his curly chestnut-coloured hair.

"Hey, you look as tall as my little sister! I'm sure she will be happy to meet you." The soldier said happily, with a genuine smile on his face.

Bianka's face became a flushed red at the mention of her height. "I-I see." She smiled, trying to maintain composure despite her embarrassment.

“Privat Leonid, behave yourself.” Chen said, frowning.

"I..I'm sorry, sir." The soldier named Leonid backed down like a scolded puppy.

Freak smirked, but when Chen turned to him, he immediately made a serious face.

"Thank you for your information, Sierzant, this is a very valuable one, both for our future confrontation against The Bull's grunts, and for the research on ancient Tangaliroan martial arts. Can I borrow the book? Our team will probably be staying here for a while, I would like to take the chance to take a closer look on the thing. Don't worry, I will return it to you as soon as I photocopy it." Osas, after some reading, said, pointing at the book.

"No problem, go right ahead." Bianka nodded in consent.

"I thank you on behalf of the team and the Tangaliroan Jianghu." Osas said with a salute.

"Well, I'm sure our men can use some rest after the long flight in the midnight. I would like to thank you for your assistence. We will see you later when we have something to inquire or offer." Deng said.

The team turns away, but after a few steps, Freak stopped, telling Chen something. Afterwards, he turned back, and walked toward Bianka.

"Do you, by any chance, know of the Interstice?"

"Hm?" Bianka raised an eyebrow, feeling as though her heart skipped a beat at the mention of her friends' Harmony™ chatroom, TheInterstice. Did he know?

"What about navy?" Freak hinted, with a smirk.

"Are you...?" Bianka was baffled — they knew each other well online, but she'd never seen his face until now. "W-we should talk about this somewhere else."

"Indeed."

Bianka led her... online acquaintance... to the parking lot at the front of the airbase. "I never thought I'd see the day..." She laughed, almost surprised they'd meet after all these years. "How's it been?"

"Pretty good. And yea, neither did I think so. By the way, how about you and the rest?" Freak said, he has long been a member of the Interstice, but due to a few personal reasons, he has isolated himself from the Harmony™ chatroom for a long time, it's been a while since he last heard about the folks of the chatroom.

"It's been a wild ride... I guess. Riela left, for some reason... Maltt ended up, well... living at my house. It's a long story." Bianka replied.

"A long story indeed. Well, for me, things have been fine. I'm still in the military, and, as you heard from that ever-smiling bastard, I'm a Sierzant now, leading my own squad."

"That's great!" Bianka smiled, glad to know her old friend was doing well. "How strange is it that fate had our paths cross... I wonder if Riela's in Olmar Bay."

"Possibly, maybe I can check about it once I return to Amama, the central command reassigned my team with the marines. Theres certainly a chance that we will get somewhere near the Olmar Bay. By the way, hows IronContact?"

"Great! She's off somewhere in... I really wouldn't know, at this point. She's usually just playing games with the others these days, since I'm... y'know, out here." Bianka seemed a bit saddened at how things had become. "I miss the calm life back home."

"Indeed, things are far easier back in Tangaliro, and to think that I need to go back to that shithole called Imalakia...geez." Freak nodded.

"By the way, now that Leonid mentioned it..." Freak placed his hand over his head, then slowly moved it above Bianka. As a form of comparison.

"How did you end up being shorter than me? Is there malnutrition problem[5] in Valefontane too?" Freak asked in a confused face.

"N-no..." Bianka blushed, insecure about her height. "I really don't know why... maybe I missed my growth spurt..."

"Heheh, don't worry about it."

"Being short isn't neccessarily that bad, as my old superior said, 'An inch shorter is one less inch to be hit by a bullet.', judging by my time at the Tango-Namquocian border, my height worked like a charm, sorta. Or shall I say, shorta[6]?"

Had anyone else made a pun that awful, Bianka would've been angered. She simply laughed, knowing this was the old friend she'd known. "I guess you're not wrong..."

"Well, I guess we should cut it here, that bastard in glasses isn't wrong, we fought those Imalakian motherfuckers off for days after landing in Amama, and directly got sent here afterwards, I can really use some sleep. Well, good luck surviving the clusterfuck out there." Freak said, waving a good bye, with his usual chill face.

"See you later!" Bianka gestured him goodbye, heading back to the barracks. It was quite interesting, the odds she'd run into someone from the chatroom in real life...

Freak walked several steps away, but suddenly turned back with a more serious face. "By the way, Biko?"

"I've heard about what happened to your squad during your first hunt. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's... it's nothing. Don't worry about it." She smiled back, before continuing her walk to the barracks.

"I see..."

[1] - Due to the huge historical influence of Valefontane on Tangaliro and the current alliance, Tangaliro's public education system teaches Valefontane as the primary second language. As a result, a majority of the population has a relatively good level of Valefontene literacy. For Tangaliroan officers, the requirements are even stricter. Though Deng Chang is known to know even more languages due to the nature of his work.

[2] - Jordan Osas, while not being a native Sinican in origin, has a high level of knowledge about Tangaliroan martial arts, and is a practicer of the craft himself. The skill and knowledge he holds also proved to be useful in his past combats.

[3] - The Shannan Monks, a famous group of monks originally under the Monks of the Huangtu Temple. The Shannan Monks got exiled to south of the mountains in Huangtu after a bloody fight with the Thirteen Golden Monks of the Temple for their practice of evil martial arts, and thus got their name "Shannan", meaning "South of the Mountain". The incident has been well-known throughout the Jianghu of Tangaliro. It is widely believed that the monks ended up in the Heart of Darkness, thus explaining why The Bull, raised in the Heart of Darkness, knows of the craft invented by them.

[4] - The term referring to the community of Tangaliroan martial arts practicers.

[5] - Freak, while never talked about the details of his past, is known to have been living in a poor living condition when still living in where he comes from. Despite going through malnutrition at young age, he still ended up taller than Bianka.

[6] - Freak is well-known among the people of the Interstice to make atrocious puns.

by **Valefontaine** » Sat Apr 14, 2018 11:44 am

LIBERATOR
_Nw'engo
_{FSE-Occupied Turmenista}
_{4/23/2018 - 9:05 AM TST}

The Euphemians had made their move, crossing the metaphorical Rubicon that was the long-contested Turmenistanian-Euphemian border. The little Turmenistanian military resistance they'd met had been dealt with easily — Turmenistanian forces not fleeing west were themselves in danger of being pocketed by the Euphemian advance. The real difficulty the Euphemian military had met was the locals themselves, who were far from willing to accept foreign occupation.

The city of N'wengo had been the largest civilian center to fall to the coming advance. It had gone down without a fight, the few Turmenistanian military units in the city either surrendering or being killed. That wasn't to say Euphemie didn't have friends in the civilian population, however. Race was a divisive issue in Turmenista, and the Federal Army did well to exploit the paranoia of upper middle-class whites: come Victor Bluewater, charismatic community organizer and head of the Knights of the Southern Cross.

Under his collaborationist, Euphemie-backed regime, the city resumed functioning on business-as-usual grounds in the few days after occupation... though that wasn't to say he had some things done his way. The Knights of the Southern Cross had become his own paramilitary force, and they'd become a tool of oppression towards minorities. The feds back in Lee, D.O. didn't seem to have a problem with it, either.

Bianka and the rest of 3. Sektion had been tasked with getting into the city — and they'd already succeeded, to some end. Huddled in the back of a Turmenistanian Postal Service van, they were making their way on to a warehouse at the edge of town.

"A delivery van? We really couldn't pick anything else?" Niko sighed, uncomfortably shifting away from a stack of cardboard boxes that moved and shook with every bump in the road.

"Better than being out in the Imalakian jungle." Bianka assured him. "We'll be at this warehouse in no time. Isn't that right, driver?" She looked to the front. The driver of the van was, of course, some Turmie spook in on the plan. Bianka had forgotten she was speaking Valefontene, and the driver probably had no clue what she'd just said. "You get the idea." She simply told Niko.

The vehicle came to a stop, the driver finally calling out. "We're here!" He said in Augustan — the effective CS lingua franca, even down in southern Ophir.

With the team dismounting, the van soon sped off... no worry, however.

"Trip was shorter than I'd expected." Luka chuckled.

"Maybe when this war's all over... we'll be able to enjoy cities like these on our own time." Karolina looked to the city's skyline, which wasn't far away from the warehouse they'd found themselves in.

"I'd much rather be in Mieszko!" Bianka headed inside the warehouse, where an SNvI agent waited, maps and equipment of various use situated beside him, presumably for the briefing.
"Well, if it ain't for the Sierzant herself." The agent was impressed with the squad that command had sent.

"Sierzant Bianka Ziekowski, LAtR-13. This is my squad, 3. Sektion. My reputation precedes me, it seems." Bianka smiled, shaking the intel officer's hand.

"Today's situation is quite simple. Vaalbarium warhead from your last stunt's gonna be used to level Nw'engo International Airport, which the Federal Army has transformed into their headquarters in the region. They've got a few generals there, yadda yadda... but we've heard rumors the place is also being used by Bluewater's boys as a detainment center for undesirables."

"Anyone who doesn't agree with him politically, I take it."

"Correct. If you find that to be the case, then please... for the love of God, free those people before you blow the damn place sky high."
"I assume there's more to this..." Niko said, a bit puzzled by the apparent simplicity of the whole thing.

"Of course. Your team's going to be divided in two. Two of you are going to be infiltrating the TV station, using these badboys..." He picked up two little electronic boxes the size of poker cards, setting them on the table. "Put 'em inside the building, turn them on. That's when a broadcast from our friends in the Turmenistanian resistance will play for everyone in Nw'engo to hear."

"A distraction?" Bianka asked.

"You catch on quickly, Sierzant. Resistance cells in the city don't exactly have coordinated communications, so the broadcast will be the perfect order for them to wake up." The SNvI agent nodded.

"How many Federal troops are in the airport, exactly?" Bianka questioned.

"Low estimates say a few thousand. You're not going in guns-blazing. Your heads-up display will show the blast radius of the Vaalbarium warhead. Ideally you'd try to get the warhead as close you can, then try to go in to verify those rumors... ah, almost forgot to mention... there's a truck out back with the warhead onboard. Another truck for the second team. You get the idea."

"I'll split the team accordingly."

By the flip of a Ꮴ1 coin, they'd arranged the squads. Bianka was with Luka, tasked with infiltrating and destroying the airport. Niko was with Karolina, assigned to launching the broadcast hijacking.

Bianka's AR goggles had been cleverly designed for a mission like this. Mimicking the fashionable appearance of thick-rimmed sunglasses, it was just as functional as its tacticool variant. Judging by the HUD, there were red enemy markers along the highway leading toward the airport — presumably a roadblock, checkpoint or something to such a degree.

The detonator to the warhead that rested in the compartment behind them was neatly tucked into one of Bianka's jacket pockets, which perhaps made her a bit anxious as they continued driving. Judging by enemy positions, they'd be able to find a way in if she took a nearby exit, using the smaller roads to get around Federal Army checkpoints CS satellites had designated.

"You're becomin' pretty popular with the troops back at base." Luka's attention was half-drawn to the road, half-drawn to making small talk with Bianka.

"It's a bit stressful and tiring, I gotta admit..." Bianka sighed. She hadn't the least idea of how to hold up her reputation among CS troops as an apparent badass — with nicknames like 'Bianka of Ophir' and 'Bianka the Liberator' ... a lot of these were ridiculous, to say the least.

"Oh, yeah. I can totally agree with that. I'd never want to be famous." Luka chuckled.

The drive brought Bianka to make for the nearest exit on the highway, and soon they were on a road that'd, quite evidently, fallen into disuse since the occupation.
"Hey, Luka, uhh... do you and Karolina know each other?" Bianka had been curious about the nature of the relationship between the two for some time now, and figured a long drive like this was the ideal time to ask.

"Merely childhood friends." Luka's innocent smirk veiled an inconsequential fib.

"Ah..." Bianka felt a brief wave of sadness overcome her as she recalled her memories with Sigmund, the friend she'd lost in Azenyanistan.

"Oh, right. Sorry 'bout your loss... read it in your record." Luka attempted to console her.

"No, it's fine." She reassured him. "I got over that a long time ago."

The radio's usual music was interrupted by harsh static, and soon it became quite clear this was the broadcast hijacking they were waiting on.

"Brothers and sisters, citizens of Turmenista... liberation day has begun. President Fern's armies of oppression walk through our lands, killing our children and burning our homes. Our military can break, our military can retreat. But the Turmenistanian people, regardless of race... will fight on. White, black, all creeds and colors... unite against the foreign oppressor! Abantu Bahlanga!"

"Guess that's our cue. How long 'till the airport?" Luka asked.

Judging by the map on the bottom right of Bianka's HUD, this road would take them just within the warhead's radius of the airport. From then, they'd just need to desert the vehicle and infiltrate the airport... see if the rumors were true.

"Not long at all." Bianka slowed down as they neared a roadside ditch, a small forest separating them from the adjacent airport. The blast radius calculations put the airport well within the estimated fireball of the explosion, which worked perfectly to plan. Stopping the truck at the ditch, Bianka stepped out.

"If they're roundin' people up at the airport, there'd have to be some obvious signs." Luka exited the vehicle, adjusting his gavéczh[1] hat.

Bianka paused, as if she'd forgotten something. "Oh right, the guns." Heading back into the truck, she opened to glove compartment to fetch herself and Luka their KbKs[2] and Egzekutors.[3]

"Almost thought we were going in empty-handed." Luka took the KbK as she passed it to him.

"Here goes nothing, I guess." Bianka led the way into the forest, weapon at the ready.

At this time of year, the forest was greener — and denser — than ever, which all worked to her benefit. Making her way through the underbrush with Luka in tow, she stopped, ducking behind a rock to think.

"What's our course of action gonna be?" Luka asked, finding shelter behind another nearby rock.

"Keep these in handy." Bianka opened her backpack, tossing a CDD™[4] to Luka.

"One of 'em CDDs?" Luka questioned, turning the device on and slipping it into his pocket.

"Sure is. I've also requested an Augustan drone over the area to keep track of enemies on the ground. All we need to worry about are soldiers indoors... because they won't be on the HUD."
"Fair enough." Luka peeked from the rock he'd taken cover behind, looking on at the terminal entrance. Derelict civilian cars were stacked to the side, likely having been cleared to make way for the hundreds of Euphemian military vehicles in the parking lot.

The patrols at this hour of morning were negligible, though they could see a few vehicles driving out in groups — presumably to answer to the increasing crescendo of gunfire coming from the city.

One truck, however, set itself apart from the HMMTTs[5] driving out of the airport. It bore a much more civilian appearance, coming to a stop outside the TCA™[6] Worldport™[7]. It gained Bianka's attention for rather obvious reasons...

"Wait." She gestured Luka to wait before they moved, taking out her binoculars to watch closely. The truck's payload quickly became apparent: people, being escorted by men in white-blue garbs — no doubt the so-called Knights of the Southern Cross. Judging by the way they were nudged about by the Knights, they weren't here on their own accord. A man in a more decorated outfit led them to the entrance of the Worldport™, speaking to what was probably a Euphemian officer, who promptly gestured them inside.

"What's the matter?" Luka asked.

"Those rumors were right. We gotta get in there and set those people free." Bianka replied.

Collis Palatium
_{Lee, District of Ophir}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{8:00 AM EST}

As usual, Fern was in the Round Office, which had become increasingly guarded amidst the war... nearing further escalation. One of their more talented mercenaries, the Bull, was in the custody of the Continental System. It didn't help that a certain Valefontene soldier was off terrorizing Euphemian troops at home and abroad. He'd need to send a message, and soon.

"So the Bull's being held at Evans Air Station?" Fern questioned.

"Indeed." SECWAR Cleveland replied. "We've got an insider in the facility. Changing of the guard happens at 9 AM sharp. We've already got a team on Arcadia Island. They're waiting on your call, sir."

"Do it." The President ordered.

Nw'engo Intercontinental Airport
_Nw'engo
_{FSE-Occupied Turmenista}
_{8:00 AM TST}

Terminal D was, for the most part, left untouched by the Federal Army. Some areas had been vandalized, furniture moved or drywall torn down presumably for future projects with the terminal.

Hiding behind the counter at one of the gates, Bianka and Luka were busy listening in on a patrol of Euphemian engineers that were wandering about the otherwise vast, eerily silent terminal. Euphemian was much like Augustan, so Bianka had a clue of what they were saying.

"Fuckin' Turmites."[8] One of them said. "We gotta walk all this fuckin... grand expanse of nothing just to get around."

"This... Resistance I keep hearin' about, they're probably why the rail lines are blown up." The other said.

Sliding a suppressor onto her KbK, Bianka carefully peeked from cover, firing at the men in two successive burst shots. They dropped dead, the thud making a cold echo across the empty terminal.

"What were they saying?" Luka questioned. As the MvH didn't mandate learning any other languages, it was a surprise his inability to comprehend other languages hadn't been noticed yet.

"Guerrillas blew up the rail lines connecting the airport. We're going to have to walk the full way." Bianka replied. It slightly confused her that he couldn't understand them as well... odd.

Passing the gates as they continued their walk down the terminal, Bianka could see Euphemian aircraft of various specialization taking off, touching down — quite the busy day for the Feds. It almost made her feel bad that these Euphemian soldiers would never see it coming...

Soon enough, they reached the next terminal, and judging by the distant clamor of voices and footsteps, it was much busier than the derelict one they'd just been in. Luckily for them, it was lavishly decorated with an interior garden. To help their case, the sky lighting that shone through the glass roofing was not all that good — presumably because it was getting cloudy outside.

This garden, however, would make an ideal form of concealment and cover as they moved through the terminal.
The bushes and flowers of the garden served as excellent cover for Bianka and Luka, who had stopped to gather a bearing on their surroundings.

"Looks like the Worldport™'s up next." Luka whispered, gesturing to a sign ahead.

"Patrols are gonna find the bodies soon." Bianka whispered back, listening to Euphemian radio chatter. Two soldiers walked past the garden, seemingly oblivious to the two. "I think it's time to move."

The presence of TCA™ symbology paired the vast assortments of shops indicated they were now in the Worldport™. The two could hear shouting and clamoring downstairs, and with a single peek... it quickly became apparent to Bianka what was going on. The first floor was crawling with members of the Knights of the Southern Cross, who were organizing so-called undesirables line and file...

"This one's a liberal dissident. Put him in 5A." One of the Knights ordered, gesturing to one of the 'undesirable' men ...

The man was grabbed by two other Knights, who hauled him over to one of the shops downstairs. The text at the entrance, which previously read 'MIZUIRO COFFEE' had been vandalized, the code 5A simply reading atop in spray paint. Pulling up the metal shutters of the shop — which would've otherwise indicated it was closed, but now served as a makeshift prison cell — they tossed the man in.

"This is sickening." Bianka muttered, watching the bizarre scene play out below.

"Turmenistanians screwin' over other Turmenistanians." Luka whispered back.

"Not if I can help it." Bianka took aim, opening fire indiscriminately at the Knights walking about the floor below.

The situation devolved into chaos almost immediately as the prisoners took the guns from their deceased wardens, and soon the entire first floor was a warzone.

In no time, the prisoners were opening the shops, freeing those that'd been put into the makeshift prisons. Those who weren't armed with guns had picked up whatever they could, beating the Knightsmen to death. Heading downstairs, the fire alarms going off only confirmed Bianka's suspicions that enemy reinforcements would be on their way soon.

The Turmenistanians they'd freed soon witnessed their liberator.

"LISTEN UP!" Bianka called out in Turmenistanian, to the crowd of a few hundred freed prisoners. "THIS ENTIRE PLACE IS GONNA GET BLOWN SKY HIGH... IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, DROP YOUR GUNS, GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

The response was immediate, as the crowds evacuated the Worldport™ in droves, some trying to thank Bianka and Luka as they fled.

"Euphemian ROE is strictly against killing civs. They were letting the Knights do the dirty work... now that's backfiring." Bianka explained to Luka, still waiting for more enemies to come. At any rate, they'd be facing Euphemians, which wasn't a big problem to her.

"So they're just gonna let all those Turmenistanians run?" Luka questioned.

"They don't have a choice. Now we just buy time for them." Bianka sought cover in one of the shops, the counter shielding them from the gunfire to come. With her radio, she contacted the other half of 3. Sektion...

"We're coming over in an MRAP." Niko's response was quite... to the point.

"Where the hell did you get an MRAP?" Bianka questioned.

"The Feds are getting fucked in downtown. They've riled up a hornet's nest of Turmie cells... all I know is, I'm comin' over to you with this MRAP, and we're getting the hell out."

"An ETA on that?"

"Soon-o-clock."
The sound of footsteps hurrying into the main atrium of the Worldport™ was indication enough that the Feds have arrived.

"Alright. Out." Bianka tucked her radio back into her pocket, peeking from cover to get a view of what was coming. Federal troops were hurrying down the stairs and escalators, barking orders and aiming at the shops. Taking a careful burst shot at who she could only assume was their CO, she ducked again upon realizing it'd recoiled and struck his helmet. Gunfire barraged the walls behind Bianka and Luka as the Euphemians spotted them.

"SIERZANT BIANKA ZIEKOWSKI OF THE LUDZOWE ARMIE, SURRENDER AND WE GUARANTEE YOUR LIFE AND SAFETY!" The officer called out in semi-broken Valefontene.

"Lemme show these Euphies the what for!" Luka tossed a smoke grenade, then took Bianka's AR goggles.

"What are you doing?!" Bianka was confused at whatever Luka was attempting to do.

He set the AR goggles and its battery pack onto the counter, lens aimed at where the Euphemians were.

"Watch this." He grinned, waiting for the smoke to fade.

One by one, the Euphemians in the atrium were spotted and marked by Bianka's ARG, Luka propping his KbK's barrel against the counter as he fired through, taking out the Euphemians one by one, until the entire place had been cleared. He'd just wiped out an entire squad effortlessly, and the smug look on his face spoke for him.

"I... never thought of that." Bianka carefully peeked, collecting her ARG and equipping it again.

"What's the ETA on that—"

A loud CRASH was all they needed to hear as a Euphemian Meerkat MRAP smashed through the front entrance of the Worldport™, screeching to a halt.

"Get the fuck in!" Niko called out, gesturing them into the vehicle. The RCWS machinegun atop the Meerkat, presumably manned by Karolina, covered their escape to the vehicle, cutting through unfortunate Federal troops that'd arrived just a bit too late...
The drive out of the airport was a quick one, Niko clearly being quite the adept driver. Naturally, they had a sizeable group of Euphemians tailing them, but the MRAP was... armored enough. The highways of Nw'engo gave them plenty of space, so Niko wasn't concerned, per usual.

"Now, can you tell me... how the fuck you got an MRAP?" Bianka pressed.

"Let's just say me and Karo here make a great team. Ain't that right?" Niko smirked, giving her a playful nudge.

"You should've seen it, Sierzant. Downtown's been swept by complete revolution. Feds that weren't overrun were fleeing for the airport." Karolina was quite enthusiastic about whatever they'd achieved... judging by the pillars of smoke billowing from the Nw'engo skyline, they'd certainly caused some trouble on the way.

"We're out of the blast radius." Bianka noted, looking behind them. "I'll wait a bit then set it off."

"Our squad's gotten pretty famous around base lately." Niko grinned. He had no problem with 3. Sektion's borderline celebrity status at Evans Air Station.

"We're about to add another piece to our record." Bianka took the detonator out of her jacket pocket, clutching it in anticipation.

As the MRAP sped down the highway, a Dumvee had finally managed to catch up, attempting to ram the vehicle's side. As the two vehicles collided, Niko swerved to the right in a kneejerk reaction, the vehicle smashing through the concrete highway barriers.

Startled by suddenly being jolted forward, Bianka's thumb clamped down on the detonator as the MRAP veered off the highway. In a moment, they were in the air, and in the next they'd smashed into a tenement adjacent to the highway.

The world went black.

Bianka awoke in a cold sweat, her time unconscious plagued by a dream in a grey forest...

"Welcome to the afterlife." Niko was kneeling beside her, evidently he'd been concerned by her condition.

"Yeah, yeah... fuck you. How long have I been out?" Bianka asked, sitting up.

"Thirty minutes or so. Rest of the squad's out looking for a vehicle..." Niko looked to the other side of the apartment's lobby, which had been partially reduced to rubble by the huge armored MRAP that lay smashed into the floor. "...to, uh, get the hell out of here." Niko replied. "They left me here to keep watch."

"What happened after the explosion?"

"Entire city's in deep shit. Looting, rioting... it's not a good time to be a Euphemian soldier. From what I heard on the radio, Administrator Bluewater was dragged out of his office, lynched and hung in the square. Good deal of the suburbs are being razed to the ground... lashing out against people who would've benefitted under the collaborationist regime." Niko sighed. "Euphemian comms have been going wild about the stunt you pulled... it's definitely going to slow their plans to overrun Turmenista."

"I see. We've achieved a lot today, I'm glad." Bianka replied. Something else was bothering her, though... "Say, Niko... do you dislike me?"

"Where'd that come from?" Niko questioned.

"Sometimes you encourage me to keep going, to never give up... other times you just, like... tease and insult me."

"That's just how I am. Your reactions are just too cute." Niko laughed, playfully ruffling up Bianka's hair. "This squad would've never gotten this far without you. Never forget that. Biggest pride of my life is being part of this squad. You might not think it, but you're a better leader than you let on."

His words had quite evidently moved her. "I... I needed that. Thank you."

The doors opened, to which Luka and Karolina returned. "Oh, she's up. Good, we been found... a vehicle nearby." Luka announced.

Heading outside, Bianka was taken aback. Everything was covered in a thin layer of white-grey... snow? It took a moment for Bianka to realize it was ash, presumably from the buildings burning around them. A mushroom cloud still loomed over the horizon, despite the fact it'd been over thirty minutes since the detonation. Without a doubt, nothing at the site of the blast could've survived. How many Euphemian soldiers had died in that split second? Thousands? The power of Vaalbarium readily became apparent to Bianka, and it almost terrified her.

"Is it even safe to be out here?" Niko questioned.

"Safe." Karolina was occasionally glancing to check her Zeiger™[9] Counter as they moved forward.

As they traversed an alleyway, however, they found themselves surrounded from both sides by individuals who clearly weren't Euphemian stragglers...
"Now, now... I get you're just... trying to get somewhere safer, y'know?" A masked man, who was clearly the ringleader of the thugs, began. "But if you wanna get through, you might wanna... pay the toll, out of goodwill. We're just tryin' to get by..."

"Oi..." One of his men tapped him on the shoulder, nervous.

"If you don't got the money, then you're gonna hafta figure some otha way to... wait a minnit. I know you." The man removed the bandana obscuring his face, approaching Bianka with curiosity. "You're that Valefontene girl... holy shit! Did you fucking do that?"

"Yes." Bianka replied in Turmenistanian.

"Come right through! Fuck George Fern! Sloth gang!" He gestured them to pass through, the roving band of thugs clearly not interested in blocking the path of some Valefontene specops.

Continuing their way about the city, which had effectively fallen into anarchy in the absence of the Knights and the Federal Army, Bianka was pretty shocked at how quickly things had gone to shit. How long had they been in Nw'engo? Two hours? Three at most?

"The Turmenistanian military just... allowed this place to get taken over. This entire city was taken without a fight." Niko thought aloud as they trudged through the ash.

"Valefontaine's holding its weight in this war... that's for damn sure." Bianka smirked.

Occasionally they'd run into looters, some of them armed with stolen Euphemian assault rifles... but they'd usually run off. These were lone wolves — the large-scale looting, gang violence and other atrocities were reserved for downtown.

"Here we are." Luka announced, pointing to a sedan parked roadside. Climbing aboard, he gestured everyone else inside. "Already wired it up. Half a tank of gas. We're good to go."

Once everyone had gotten inside, the car set off, bound for the outskirts. With her ARG, Bianka simply marked their destination: a parking lot to a nearby stadium, and radioed in for exfil.

The occasional threat of highwaymen and looters wasn't too big a concern, as everyone in the vehicle was armed to some degree. Soon enough, they'd reached the stadium, with 3. Sektion dismounting and Bianka lighting a flare in the open parking lot.

"We begin here, but we'll take this war to Fern in no time." Bianka proudly announced.

"Damn right!" Karolina cheered on in agreement, with the rest of the squad.

Soon enough, a Vi-27 touched down and they hurried inside. The hell that had become Nw'engo was now behind them.
"What's the situation?" Bianka called out to the pilot.

"Good news or bad news first?" The pilot asked.

"Good news."

"You completed your mission."

Bianka got a bit nervous. Were things really this bad?

"Turmenistanian forces are getting fucked in the east. Whoever's commanding them just left them wide open to get pocketed by the Euphies. Fern's specops raided Enfield Air Station somehow, and the Bull's been missing ever since."

If Bianka was to stay in Turmenista, she'd have to grow accustomed to improvising and compensating for TAFOR's inadequacies...

CONTEXT NOTES
1 - gavéczh - Very similar to a cowboy hat, commonly worn by inhabitants of eastern Valefontaine.

2 - KbK - Karabin 1992 Kompakt.

3 - Egzekutor - The Egzekutor is the Ludzowe Armie's standard-issue pistol, but it has also seen widespread civilian and corporate use, perhaps in part due to how aesthetically appealing it looks.

4 - CDD™ - Camera Disruption Device. Produced by Luka™ Computronics, it was primarily intended for use with police, MvH and military... but has been a sought-after item on the black market since the early 90's.

5 - HMMTT - The HMMTT, or High Mobility Multi-Troop Transport, is the FSE's 10-ton truck.

6 - TCA™ - Transcontinental Airlines.

7 - Worldport™ - TCA's hub in Nw'engo Intercontinental Airport.

8 - Turmites - Derogatory term for Turmenistanians coined by FSE troops.

9 - Zeiger™ - Zeiger Biomedical holds an effective monopoly on the Zeiger™ Counter, which is used for detecting radiation.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Sat Apr 14, 2018 2:53 pm

Coba Wells

Mieszko, Soren, VDR

4/23/2018 - 17:45

Coba Wells fell forward onto her bed and yelled into her sheets. It had been another long day of running around the offices trying to accomplish every task she was given before the end of the workday. The Valefontenes she worked with were nice, but she noted an slight eye of distrust in some of them since the bombing in Miesszko a few weeks ago, as if they were now regarding her Helghast heritage differently than they once had. She was a foreigner, after all, and foreigners had done the terrorist attack, so Coba couldn't be any different than them, right?

She knew the sentiment well enough. It was how her true home had regarded foreigners, and still did for most situations. You're not from here, so why do you belong here? The more the world changed, the more it really stayed the same.

While laying on the bed, and exerting as little energy as possible, Coba pushed her work skirt off and then unbuttoned out of her blouse. A content sigh unconsciously escaped her mouth as she relaxed and melted into her bed. Coba's eyes closed as she tried to organize her thoughts and lock away the memories of the ten-hour day she'd just put in at SysCorp.

Twenty minutes passed before Coba rolled onto her back, stretched, and crawled to the desk in her apartment where her computer sat. Thirty seconds later, she'd booted it up and was scrolling through posts on 2gethr^[1] Her mind had detached from her body as she silently scrolled through, snorting through her nostrils when she encountered a funny video clip or well-formatted meme. Before long, however, she was writing a short post.

"Just got home from work. Can't wait to watch some SurlySchemers^[2]!

The post served two purposes. The post acted as a check-in through 2gethr. While she was in about as deep cover as one could get, she still felt somewhat obligated to check in every so often. So she left her account public and posted every so often to allow her agency back home to keep tabs on her location and her living status. They'd read the post and see her location and know that she was indeed still living in Miezsko, and she was indeed still alive. There wasn't an accepted code or anything, nothing that evolved. But if she didn't regularly post or posted something that raised concern, she knew they'd immediately notice, not like they'd do anything about it. She was as good as dead if her cover was blown in Valefontain.

The second purpose of the post was to vent her frustrations and talk to her friends. She was a female in her late twenties, after all.

Conan Bilbrey

Romor, Imalakia

4/23/2018 - 09:18

Bilbrey and his second-in-command Homer Shallow sat in cheap wooden chairs across a cheap wooden desk from a man in a slightly less-cheap wooden chair. The man was Romor's local leader. Bilbrey didn't know whether to call him a mayor or a military commander, as he seemed to be more or less both wrapped into one guy.

Romor was a government-controlled city not far from Olmar Bay, which meant it was luckily in the safety net provided by the Ygarthan troops in Olmar Bay as well as what little Imalakian government troops there were that were competent enough to defend the town. They'd been here a few days and Bilbrey had decided it was a decent enough town, or it could've been had there been no war.

Markos Elias Tedros was the local leader of Romor. The man was a deeply dark-colored man, with a personality and voice to match. Bilbrey and Shallow found it funny, as they were also dark in color, but had been lightened over the generations, as all ethnic Torians^[3] in the URA seemed to always have some Olympian^[4] and Roskian^[5] heritage. Tedros looked to be in his fifties and seemed like a competent, if harried local leader, unprepared for the conflict he now had to manage.

"So as you can see, Dango is in the way," Tedros explained, gesturing to a small mockup of a map on his desk. "Fighters from that city keep intercepting almost anything from our city, and we need it to stop."

Bilbrey nodded, "Alright, and what would you like us to do about that?"

Tedros tilted his head, "Aren't you mercenaries here to help? Help us!"

"That's not what I meant. Is there anything specific you'd like to see done here? Or are we supposed to just burn the place to the ground?"

Tedros thought it over, "Possibly you could convince them to surrender, yes? Lay down their arms and rejoin the government, yes?"

Bilbrey nodded empathetically, sensing the man's desperation to end this conflict, "We can try that, of course. But if they don't want to, if they stand by their, their values-"

"They're political reformists," Tedros corrected.

"Right, if they choose to keep being that and be aggressive, what do you want from us?"

Tedros looked pained, "Don't hurt the families, please. Try and avoid hurting the people, just try to get the leaders, yes? The others, they're just townspeople, like my own, fighting for what they think is best, yes?"

Bilbrey nodded again, "Alright. I'll see what I can do, okay?" He stood, signalling Shallow to follow him. Tedros bid them farewell as they left his office.

"So what do you think?" Shallow offered as they walked out of Tedros' administration building and into the streets

Bilbrey snorted, "I feel for the guy, I do, but he wants this to end peacefully, and they all seem past that already. We can try his way, but we gotta be prepared for it to get ugly."

Shallow shrugged, "Right, so do we all go?"

"Nah," Bilbrey was shaking his head, "I think if you go, take a few platoons, the dogs, maybe both of the VADS, you should be good."

"I'm taking a town with a hundred guys, some dogs, and two mobile anti-air guns?"

"You're right," Bilbrey decided, "better make it two hundred."

"Fuck you, Conan," Shallow laughed at the audacity of the plan, as well as the general state of their affairs, in which they barely had a light infantry battalion's worth of troops and equipment.

"Hey guys!"

Bilbrey and Shallow turned to the voice yelling behind them.

"Oh fuck," both CPD commanders sighed in unison.

Carson Andreinov ran up behind them, his phone in hand. The RNN^[6] journalist had been following them since they'd all arrived at Olmar Bay, constantly pestering them with questions.

"What do you want, Carson?" Homer was first to ask.

Andreinov ran up in between the two of the commanders and stopped a second to catch his breath before speaking, "Oh, nothing, just wondering, did I catch you just leaving Mayor Tedros' headquarters?"

"So he is a mayor..." Shallow mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Yeah, you caught us right. What's it matter?"

"Well," Andreinov pondered the question, "It matters because you talked to the local leadership. I just want to know what he had to say."

"Yeah?" Bilbrey quipped, "That sucks."

"Oh, come on. I'm here and you two are going to fucking stone wall me every time something happens. Tell me what's going on."

Bilbrey sighed and groaned in one breath, "Fine. Shallow's taking some troops over to Dango to secure it. Happy?"

Andreinov's eyes lit up, "You're starting combat operations?"

"No, we're securing a town from political reformists."

But Andreinov had already stopped walking and was busy typing on his phone, "Yeah, uhuh, I'm coming with you, so you better not ditch me here!"

Shallow and Bilbrey shared a look as they kept walking towards the ad-hoc camp just outside Romor their unit had set up upon getting here. Bilbrey's expression told Shallow exactly what he was thinking.

"What a douchebag."

[1]: 2gethr is a popular social media platform, a subsidiary of Origin Corporation, a Remnant-based company specializing in entertainment, advertising, media and tourism.
[2]: SurlySchemers, a popular web video group that publishes videogame playthroughs as well as prank videos. Known for their main duo, Darren Jansen and Van Imavan.
[3]: Torians are the Remnant equivalent to African-Americans.
[4]: Olympians are historically from Olympia and are Western European in appearance.
[5]: Roskians are Eastern Slavic in appearance.
[6]: RNN, Remnant National News, the largest news source in the URA, a government corporation with major ownership by the Origin Corporation.

by **Anowa** » Sat Apr 14, 2018 9:43 pm

_Valkyrie
_{CO of MoD/MIAHS JFOR- Clandestine "Headhunters", Bridge Team}
_{Occupied Nw'engo}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/23/2018 - 8:11 AM TST}

The duo of Headhunters had been wading into occupied territory for three days now. Their objective was simple on paper, locate and extract Agent Walker, a SIGINT specialist who was working on obtaining intel from the encroaching Euphie army. Unfortunately this meant that -as the Anowans discovered- Turmenistan wasn't all too good at up front warfare. It didn't matter to neither Valkyrie nor Keres. All that mattered right now was getting to Walker and extracting her.

And due to the ongoing riots and general civil discourse, it was going to both easier and harder to a degree. Easier due to the preoccupation of the Euphie occupiers, but harder due to the fact that there may be unknown or unforeseeable hostiles. Again, a mild inconvenience for the duo of black ops soldiers.

The duo moved as one, not only as siblings in arms, but as actual siblings. Born twins [1], they were orphaned at a young age, and that's they were at liberty to say. Headhunters were the blacker than black section of Anowa's JSOC, there was a reason their lives were erased, and replaced with a simple noun for name.

[BLUFOR] - [CIC] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Grey-Box] - /// - “Grey-Box to Bridge, be advised, the UAV above the city is about to have line of sight on you.”

The duo said nothing in response, a small timer popping up on their helmet's HUDs, less than three seconds before they were in sight of the UAV. A small alley became ringed in blue, and the duo made a beeline for it.

As they tucked into the alley, the duo took a knee, one watching either exit, firearms at the ready. After a few moments, the all clear was given by their handler, and they kept moving towards their objective. Less than three blocks, and they were making good time, weapons were still cold and no one had been directly informed of their presence.

Keres spoke, her voice a calm and even monotone, despite the sounds of gunfire echoing elsewhere in the city, and the 60 pound weight of the Kite BDU she wore. "Target building in sight."

Valkyrie spotted the rather small apartment building no more than 6 floors. But still an apartment building nonetheless. In the distance was the ATC tower of the airport. Valkyrie's response was nigh identical in tone, "Affirm."

As they approached there was sounds of a commotion inside, not to mention the wide open front door, it was not a good sign. "Possible OPFOR. Stack up."

The twins took either side of the crusted door, the sounds of a fight coming from within. Valkyrie reaching to his belt and pulling a M88 Banger [2] off. Moments later a pin was pulled, and he tossed the cylinder into the room, closing it behind the door. A muffled whump indicated detonation, and the duo busted through the portal without a word. A single suppressed gunshot was fired into a Euphie soldier, armed and stumbling away from a man laying prostrate on the ground, face bleeding and himself coughing. There would be no time to help him, as they had a limited time to actually finish their mission.

They went thundering up the stairs, over 400 pounds of flesh and metal went through three flights before reaching the required door. Only to find it open. The duo slid up against the wall on a single side, another flash was tossed in, and again they entered the room. Nothing of note was found, just a bed, a desk, and their HVT, sidearm [3] aimed at a now dead Euphie soldier.

Walker quipped, as she took in their view of the fully geared operators. "A few seconds behind."

As Valkyrie was about to update their handler on the events that had just transpire, she was interrupted.

[BLUFOR] - [CIC] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Grey-Box] - /// - “Grey-Box to Bridge, be advised, I have determined the origin of the UAV. It is Augustan. Furthermore, comm interceptions indicate that there is a Valefontinian Special Ops team in the city.”

[BLUFOR] - [BRIDGE TEAM] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Valkyrie] - /// - “Affirm. Location? Over.”

[BLUFOR] - [CIC] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Grey-Box] - /// - “Radio transmissions from local OPFOR indicate the airport.”

[BLUFOR] - [BRIDGE TEAM] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Valkyrie] - /// - “Affirm. Be advised, Agent Walker is secured. We're RTB.”

[BLUFOR] - [CIC] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Grey-Box] - /// - “Affirmative.”

Valkyrie took post near the door, watching for anyone who may come back up. Walker close behind her. As Valkyrie kept watching the stairs, Keres pulled a bottle out of her belt and started pouring a pungent liquid out of the canister. After dropping it after a few second, she pulled a chunk of flint out of her vest, scraping it against her glove, she set the apartment alight.

Within moments they were out. Down the stairs, the man at the body was gone, as was the Euphie soldier's rifle. Valkyrie silently wished the man luck in whatever endeavor he was taking. As they stepped out of the building, an MRAP tore past, taking zero notice of the trio of Anowan operatives.For a moment it was a worry, before Valkyrie remembered what Grey Box had said moments before, this road didn't lead to downtown, though it did lead to one of the main thoroughways of the city. Meaning whoever was in it was bugging out, and Valkyrie would bet the next two months of her rather measly pay on it being the Valefontanians.

She sub-consciously picked up her pace. They entered without help of friendlies, but it always helped to have a crutch if they absolutely needed it. The fact said crutch was now gone was a bit of a bummer, but there were bigger issues at hand. Mainly extraction. Due to the nature of their operation they had one of two methods: walk back to friendly lines, or obtain transport back to friendly lines, and another three days of walking didn't sound like a secure method of transport. Meaning they had to find something with a motor and working wheels. In some small twist of grim humor, the road they were on was barren of any transport sans the MRAP fading into the distance. They'd need to hike a bit before getting to a car.

The trio moved, the only one uncomfortable with the nigh noiseless walking was that of Walker, who looked so severely out of her element it wouldn't be a surprise if one thought she was just a civilian with a gun. Though given she was SIGINT and not HUMINT or even Infantry, it wasn't too far from an apt description.

Valkyrie stopped as Keres whistled behind her, Walker unintentionally ramming straight into the leading figure to no more effect than a slight waver. Keres was jacking her thumb into a garage and was in the process of entering it, Valkyrie grabbed Walker by the arm and started pulling towards the open doors of the garage. Stepping in, Walker less than two steps behind.

And then the sky darkened, as if something drastically brighter than the sun decided to make an appearance. The temperature around them spiked, Valkyrie could feel the ceramic and metal plates of the Kite start to warm, as the brightness shone through her jammed shut eyes and polarized plate of Alon glass. The sound of a shockwave and air blasting past nearly overwhelmed her ears, though she could hear... screaming. she risked opening one of her eyes for a monent, spotting Walker, in the full basking light, on fire and screaming as her body was slowly rendered down into ash. THe roof of the garage was now missing, the sight of an orange sky filled with debris and dust was the visage instead of a peaceful blue.

Someone had just set off a really big fucking bomb, and if the sounds her helmet were making were any indication, it was nuclear based. Walker was now KIA, and if all was likely than they would've been too if they weren't inside already. The sound had already died down, but the radiation, ash, and heat hadn't.

"Valkyrie! get in the fucking car!"

Her sister was right, their mission was now a wash, and for whatever reason someone had set off a nuke. Staying here for any reason was stupid. So they had to bail, sooner rather than later.

She walked over to the passenger side door, hopping in the engine keyed on, the older sedan roaring to life as they pulled out of the garage, wind buffeting the windshield as it was pulled back into ground zero. The vacuum of what the fireball made begging for something to occupy it again. But the duo of Headhunters were bugging out.

It had been maybe an hour and a half before their radios were capable of receiving any signal. Grey-Box had been concerned, though ultimately understanding of the situation. The mission had failed, and with it a wealth of info on Euphie plans and number had been lost. All due to someone who couldn't handle a nuke properly.

As the sounds of a MV-22 echoed across the valley they had stopped in, Valkyrie decided to pose a question.

[BLUFOR] - [BRIDGE TEAM] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Valkyrie] - /// - “Grey-Box. Any idea of what happened back there?”

[BLUFOR] - [CIC] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Grey-Box] - /// - “After putting the pieces together so to speak, it appears that the Valefontaine intentionally set off a warhead to remove Euphemenian capabilities in the area.”

[BLUFOR] - [BRIDGE TEAM] - [GREYSEC] - [MIAHS] - [Valkyrie] - /// - “...Noted.”

With that, Valkyrie cut comms, the V-22 landing nearby, and the SPECTRA team stepping out to secure the area. As Valkyrie and Keres stepped on board, the elder of the two couldn't help but think that this conflict was going to get a lot more blurred.

[1] In a series of tests in 1997, the Anowan Ministry of Health conducted a number of tests to determine if twins were sub-consciously linked to one another. No such link was confirmed, though it was noted that twins are much better at team oriented exercises, and much more capable of reading each other's body language.

[2] M88 Banger - In essence, a cluster charge of flash bang grenades, allowing coverage for much larger rooms.

[3] M12 - Standard issue sidearm of the Anowan armed forces. Gas operated and firing a 11.5x45mm round, usually in SAPHE configuration. Feeds from 12, or 16 round magazines.

by **Western Pacific Territories** » Sun Apr 15, 2018 12:02 pm

White Tents, Euphemie
F.S.E. Administered Territory

A explosion sounded off in the distance. Eric and his group had taken to a series of hills overlooking the jungle near the front lines of the Tangaliro-Euphemie border. Most of the groups time since Glensdale had been spent in the jungle taking potshots at random vehicles and police cars. Eric had made some limited contact with his Tangaliroan friends through satellite phone, and informed them of what happened in his path. They seemed to be quite happy with the results as it was, though they made sure to tell them that Tangaliro would be more than happy to supply him with better guns and assistance if he would stick around in Euphemie longer. Doing wetwork like ambushing military trucks, destroying police infrastructure, or just regular infrastructure, even just killing random soldiers. As long as it made Tangaliro's life easier, he was happy to do it. He did like the promises they gave him.

Since Glensdale, he had destroyed two police stations, murdered about 20 soldiers and police officers, disabled a radio tower, made a few roads inaccessible and tore up some railroad tracks. All together Fern's logistical situation here was bad, and Tangaliro was going to exploit it. And he stood up on the top of one of the hills overlooking the border and watched them do so. He couldn't see nothing specific from here except balls of fire rising occasionally and the sounds of thunder, but he assumed they were wiping up the Euphemians. Their forces were not numerous, the FSE's soldiers were all in Turmenista, Imalakia or the border with South Ophir. The soldiers here were basically just the leftover grunts sent to die on a neglected front. Some days Eric tuned into the radio, curious to see if they had implemented a draft yet. The way this war was going, they should've been implementing one.

They had not implemented a draft in the border town of White Tents yet, although they would have considered arming the populace if they had known Eric was about to come out of nowhere and ransack the place. For a town, it's buildings were pretty well dispersed along a long, flat plain. Ideal place to put some garrison troops and a couple of tanks, seeing how close the battlefield was. Maybe even some supporting vehicles, perhaps. Right now he had broken out the binos and was looking around. Some troops walking about, a few supply vehicles, three or four IFVs, nothing his troops wouldn't be able to face up against.

Behind the crest of the hill, a couple squads of troops were milling about. If Eric would have his way, he would contact Tangaliroan fire support and get them to drop a few cluster bombs on the houses here, they were all busy or something though. Probably bombing troops, though not in the spot where Eric would like them to bomb. A whizz-ing sound went out from the distance, and Eric noticed a bright circle of light moving towards a Tangaliroan plane from a nearby forest. The two objects impacted, sending the plane into a nearby patch of forest. "Fuck. I wish I saw where that came from," he thought. "I'm sure the Tangs would like me busting some SAMs." he muttered to himself in a silenced tone. Reaching down to his waist and picking up a walkie-talkie, he gave the order to come in through the jungle down the hill and begin silencing the Euphemian troops below in the town.

It was entirely vacant probably, all the civilians gone. The troops began cresting over and running down the slope, hoping nobody noticed. As they descended to a bit of a plateau where the town was primarily sat upon, they went to a crouch and began moving to a road running through the foliage-infested plateau. Coming even closer, and begin able to hear some Euphemian soldiers talking, they went into a crouch trying to stay concealed until they attacked. One Marc Arceneaux, finding himself increasing in status as a member of STA, was one of the few people who already knew some Euphemian before they ended up here, and he thought listening to what their enemies had to say was perhaps a bit interesting. He wasn't the most empathetic or caring person here either, you needed guts to be a mercenary in Ophir. People died, he just killed them more quickly than natural causes.

The troops froze as the sound of vehicles approached. Sure enough, there were some. A entire convoy of Mastadons with mounted troops on the sides and APCs moved in a line. One of the garrisoning Euphemian troops asked another on the leading Mastadon where they were heading. "To the left flank!" the soldier replied. The first responded with "Hell yeah, go get those Tangboi gooks!" Some cheering and talking occurred among the ranks of the troops outside as the convoy moved past. Eric asked a soldier to go tell someone with a long-range radio to get in touch with the Tangaliroans and tell them what was coming their way.

Thankfully for Eric, his radioman did have knowledge of Tangaliroan (this was intentional) and got a call through to some intelligence units Eric had previously co-operated with. "Reporting in. We are currently operating near the town 'White Tents', we have confirmed the presence of a garrison inside the town. We just saw about five Mastadons moving through the town, we have reason to believe they are moving to attack your right flank. Do not attack the town with aircraft or artillery, we will be attacking and securing it. Over." The other end crackled in response. "Copy, happy hunting. We'll look for and destroy those tanks."

Right after, Eric threw up a hand signal and gave the order to attack. Some of the troops rised up and began dropping the Euphemians, who scattered at the sight of enemy fire. The mercenaries advanced across the road and more fighting resulted as the town was slowly cleared out. The complex close-quarters combat took nearly ten minutes and surely somebody had alerted other Euphemians nearby. As Eric took a minute from the respite to gaze to the sight of the primary battle, a flight of Euphemian jets suddenly buzzed over heading towards Euphemian lines. Calling for the previous radioman again, Eric wanted to know where this air power was coming from. The response gave a foreboding answer: The Tangaliroan air defense network had been vaporized by Euphemian artillery and air support and Euphemian forces were pushing hard, and Eric's allies lost planes at an alarming rate.

He couldn't help but realize he had to take a smoking break, and entered a unoccupied house to use up one of his cigarettes. Looking around, he noticed a bookcase and decided to take a look around. It was barren, except for a few copies of the various volumes of En vouloir de souvenirs perdus. Interesting, he thought, how such a old-fashioned book of it's complexity was sitting on a shelf in the jungles of western Euphemie. He decided on impulse to grab the books and put them in a bag he slung on his back. Returning to more serious matters after finishing his smoke break, he decided that their position was no longer safe. As well, he had a feeling that his Jeffersonian contract would be waiting. He resolved to gather his forces and place himself in Tangaliro soon.

by **Free Asian Ports** » Sun Apr 15, 2018 4:06 pm

Three: The Little Spider Pounces on its Prey

1km south of Mugande City Hall
Mugande
Imalakian State
26 March 2018, 00:43 AM IST

“Yurika, I swear to god, if you say ‘nyan’ one more time I’ll beat you to death with your own rifle. And this time I’m serious”

“Ufufu, Maho-chan, perhaps you’re a bit stressed out? You know what’s causing that. Caffeine, if you’d just cut caffeine out of your diet you’d behave more like a proper lady.”

Despite the ludicrous response and light-hearted banter, Yurika hugged her National Armory SASS closer for fear of the ex-Army sniper. Both Maho and Yurika were half buried in mud halfway between Kudu and Mugande. Yurika had actually spotted the position while they were in Kudu the other day, and Captain Nanasawa had ordered them to take up such a position while the infiltration assault was underway. For the teenage bimbo attitude Yurika put on, she was a decent enough spotter. As much as it got on Maho’s nerves when they weren’t doing anything, she was forced to admit that Yurika was a necessary part of the company sniper team. Beating her spotter half to death in the middle of an operation would not do. Instead, Maho simply kept her eye to the relief of the scope on her AWM-F and got back to work. The scope was actually a new model of multipurpose scope, namely an electronic type. The front of the scope was a high-definition camera with an incredible level of zoom. At the shooter’s eye was a lens like a normal scope but with no magnification that simply looked into a small screen that displayed the camera view. Right now, it was on the IR setting. The body heat of people in the city, fires, even powerful lights were lit against a blued view of everything else. It made tracking the assaulting infantry platoons rather easy for the sniper team. Conversely, the Imalakians had no night vision. This was a windfall, as they relied on easy to kill sentries. Which brought them back to the task at hand.
Yurkia grumbled and returned to her scope. “Got another one, foxhole at 800 meters, just outside the blue warehouse. He’s probably trying to keep up the patrols” she reported, swiftly. “I’ll handle him…” said Maho, settling in to get a bead on the new target. It was a middle-aged man, about as poorly dressed for military service as basically every insurgency was. He had a gun, but didn’t appear to pack much ammo. Regardless, he did have one weapon that posed a threat, his eyes. The sentry would sound an alert as soon as he spotted one of the mercenaries. Maho therefore lined up her shot. “Windage: negligible. Range: 751 meters. At this range you will not have to take into account any other affects” Yurika helpfully informed. This was a bit of an easy shot. Maho zeroed the rifle on the specified range. She brought the reticle up on the man’s chest and readied herself.

“I have the shot”

“Fire”

Maho counted her heartbeats. Oddly, adrenaline made it slow down.
“Fire”

The man in the scope pulled out a cigarette.

“Fire”

Maho slowly and gently pulled the trigger until she felt the striker go. The recoil of the .338 shot thumped through the rifle as the bullet punched its way through the suppressor and into the night sky.

300m South of City Hall
Mugande
Imalakian State
26 March 2018, 0045 AM IST

The head of the sentry in front of 2nd Squad, 1st Rifle Platoon turned into a red mist as a magnum sniper round passed through it. At the range the sniper team was at, the sound of the suppressed shot would be barely audible. During the ruckus that the IAF was causing, it almost went unheard. It certainly solved the problem for Sergeant Watake, who kept her squad down when the enemy sentry appeared. Seeing that he was dead, she gestured to her fire team to move up. Their weapons were simple Type 65s, the coveted Commando model that historically was only given to Special Forces in the late 70s. Somehow, Sakura Brigade had managed to acquire a number for their Marine component. What made the weapon so rare was its ambitious use of an integrated electronic optic, at the time one of the first in the world. Here, it was also fitted with a suppressor for covert operations. Sergeant Watake supposed her platoon was holding a significant fraction of all such rifles in the world. Many of the other squads were using A-556s or G33SD6s, and were similarly stealthily approaching the center of Mugande. The IAF had obviously been quite mauled during their attempted counter-attack that Captain Nanasawa had orchestrated yesterday. All they were finding were sentries and drunks. The local garrison had probably called for reinforcements after failing to take Kudu and were not expecting the mercenary attack so soon. They were becoming panicked, irrational. Which only helped this clandestine assault succeed. Assaulting the city in broad daylight would end no better than the Imalakian attempt on Kudu. Moving in slowly under the cover of darkness and utilizing stealth was far more effective. Especially for the outnumbered Porteans. One by one enemy sentries and outposts were silenced, taken out with not even their nearby friends noticing. Sniper shots here, a few bursts from a suppressed weapon there, and slashed throats galore marked a bloody gash in IAF lines. It wasn’t far from town hall where the enemy commander was likely hunkered down. Dismantling the enemy defenses was showing a clear breakdown in command and communications. Either the local units were too caught up in petty rivalries over command and wealth or they simply didn’t have dedicated radio systems. Both, perhaps. It showed in the many dead bodies and lack of alarms.

Sergeant Watake crept around the corner of a mud-sided shed. Imalakia was a dirty place, and the Sergeant sure as hell didn’t envy the people who lived here. There probably weren’t even showers! Or even running water, at that. A clearly drunk Imalakian soldier, amazingly in the actual fatigues the IAF was supposedly issued with, was collapsed unconscious in a wooden chair just outside the shack. The sound of his comrade dying made him stir a little. Quietly, Sergeant Watake drew her combat knife and got ready to strike. When the soldier lifted his head, Watake lunged forward, plunged the blade into his throat, and clamped her hand tightly over his mouth. He struggled for a moment, fear in his eyes, before he drifted back into darkness. To be sure, Watake sawed the blade through his esophagus and ensured all major arteries were cut. For a moment she thought she had gone too far and nearly cut his whole head off before she realized that the volume of blood was just coming from the severed jugular. Evidently his heart hadn’t stopped beating yet. While she dragged the body into the darkness, one of her riflemen moved up to take point and keep watch while the corpses were disposed of. They let the nearby fire continue to burn, no sense in risking alerting nearby forces of the elimination of these soldiers just to keep themselves in darkness. After dropping off the body, Watake let out a grunt of disgust. The man’s blood was gonna be a bitch to clean off in the morning. She unslung her rifle and joined the pointmen at the first paved street they found in this entire city. Down the road, they could see city hall. It was easily the largest building here, several stories high and walled in concrete. An eyesore to look at, really. That was probably where the enemy commander was. There were a couple vehicles out front and plenty of guards. Judging by their laxity, the infiltration was turning out to be a success. Within a few minutes, two whole rifle platoons would be upon this garrison.

Sergeant Watake gestured for the squad machine gunners to take up positions. They had held their fire for the entirety of the infiltration assault. Even suppressed, their light machine guns would draw too much attention. Now they were setting up for more direct action. The squad’s plan was to move up another 100m from where they were right now and take the enemy by surprise at close range. At any moment, the rest of the platoon should appear at this location. Watake took the time to observe the enemy position. As expected, they were facing the wrong way. The City Hall was located on a crossroads in the center of town. The roads went north-south and east-west. Since Kudu was to the West, the Imalakians were expecting the counterattack to come along that road. Because of this, the bulk of City Hall’s defenses were facing that direction. The Porteans countered this by simply taking the time to attack from the south. It was surprisingly easier than anticipated. Presently, 1st and 3rd squads began appearing in the alleyways between houses. The squad leader for 1st squad, Sergeant Hayate, jogged up. “See any civvies on the way in?” she asked as she arrived. Watake shook her head. “Not a one. Why is that?” she asked, now curious. Hayate shifted her rifle around in her hands. “The IAF draws a lot of recruits from the outlying villages and farms. They didn’t exactly have a high opinion of city folk. When they took over the city, they probably started killing off ‘dissidents’. Which meant all the city dwellers…” she trailed off. The implication sent a chill down Watake’s spine. The IAF was going to pay, alright. It seemed at last everybody was ready. “Do it” came the first radio command during the whole operation. A flare shell fired from a grenade launcher shot into the sky and burst into brilliance at its apex. The surprise on the faces of the Imalakian soldiers was suddenly illuminated. Moments later, the City Hall was bathed in gunfire.

2km North of Ziwago
Ziwago
Imalakian State
18 April 2018, 2:48 PM IST

Kimiko was gently napping in the shade of the camo net over her command vehicle. Lunch was some time ago, and Kimiko was using the moment to catch up on beauty sleep. At least, that’s what she thought of the little nap. For once in the last two months they managed to find some respite. When they entered Ziwago, the locals had welcomed them with open arms. This was either because they had heard of the mercenary’s liberation of Mugande or of the many many bodies they had left in their wake. One way or another, the locals allowed the company while they rested and regrouped. The supplies captured from Mugande were holding out, but additional food was required. A helicopter had dropped off the necessary supplies, and for at least the last couple days an odd sort of calm had descended upon the resting company. To be sure, the force had camped out and entrenched in a clearing some distance from Ziwago, and guards still monitored the perimeter. That said, it was a cozy spot to rest. The sun made for a nice little nap. The trees were beginning to thin out as they headed East, and was beginning to appear more like the savannah. Jungle was replaced by tall grass dotted with thin trees. It was a beautiful countryside, of course. Just a shame it had to be in so war-torn a country as Imalakia. Kimiko didn’t mind, however. It was nice scenery and the sun was nice and warm on her skin as she napped. At least, the rays that made it past the camo net. Getting sunburned was a hassle. Idly, Kimiko dreamed of home and her friends and her time off once this job was over. It was a golden dream, lined with the treasures and wealth she’d gain from the mission. This thought stopped Kimiko’s dream for a moment. Since when did she care about that stuff? Was the mercenary work going to her head? She still felt a pang of hurt knowing she no longer fought for honor or her country but for fortune. She resolved not to fall prey to that impulse. She couldn’t, as long as she had herself to answer to. Another demon was the last thing she needed.

Kimiko’s quiet pondering was interrupted by a couple knocks on the vehicle hull below her. Lifting her head and cranking open an eye, she found herself face-to-face with Eagle, who had stuck his head through a hatch in the roof of the command vehicle. He’d lost his ugly smirk a while ago, and true to his word kept himself fairly serious. Especially after Mugande. Now he wanted something. They’d gone through Imalakia, toppled a stronghold of a major faction in the region, and seized some choice weaponry from the stockpiles. What more could he possibly ask Sakura Brigade to do. “Have you finally secured us an exfil route? Through Turmenista I hope. Not gonna deal with Tangaliroans…” she asked, mildly grumpy from being awoken from her nap. Eagle gave off a signature grin. “Even better,” he said, still smirking “I got an extension on our job. And you’ll be… interested to note that it has to do with Turmenista.” Groggily, Kimiko sat upright to hear the full story. “Please, tell me it’s the exfil route.” “As of today, the Federal State of Euphemie has invaded Turmenista. We’re working to secure you a contract with CS forces responding to the invasion.” He said, proudly. Kimiko sighed. “Why is that a good thing” she asked, displeased by the announcement. The explanation didn’t ease Kimiko’s new state of unrest. “It means now we get to loot our military equipment from a far wealthier nation. Think about it, Mastodons, fighter jets, the works. The stuff here is small pond shit we can’t even bring back. But Euphemie has airfields we can land a C-225 on and much more useful equipment. Doesn’t that sound enticing to you?” The siren song of lucrative contracts, indeed. Kimiko had to admit, the gig wasn’t bad. Easy enemies thus far and she was pretty sure she was going to be a millionaire by the end of this. The problem was that Euphemie was no Imalakia. Their troops were professional, their army well equipped, and they actually had a combat air force now. It wouldn’t be easy fighting them, especially on their own turf. And Kimiko just knew they were gonna have to fight on their own turf…

“What’s the mission?” she asked, expecting she knew the answer already. “We’re gonna give them a hard flank. It sounds like the Turmies are getting rolled back, so we’re gonna probe the soft sides of their salient. Our first operation will be to move into Euphemie from here. We will perform a search and destroy mission, identifying any primary military threats and eliminating them. How does that sound?” Kimiko thought it over for a bit, considering the costs and benefits. It certainly sounded like Eagle had planned for them to enter Euphemie all along. The crafty FIA probably predicted this situation some time ago and saw it as an opportunity to expand their dark funds. Hopefully, Eagle would make good on his promise of a contract with CS forces. They would require the assistance of a full military if they wished to survive. Nonetheless, Kimiko felt she had no choice in the matter. The FIA clearly made that decision for her. At least she’d get paid for all this trouble. “Fine” she said, after a moment “we’ll do the job. Just make sure we get support for the op.” Kimiko jumped down off the APC and gestured for Master Sergeant Takeda to come over. Eagle climbed out of the APC himself to join the gathering command element. “So when do you plan to begin the operation?” he asked, curiously. Kimiko turned back to Eagle after she had gathered her lieutenants. “Right about now, I think” she said with a laugh.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Apr 15, 2018 10:51 pm

To season 3 we go!

BEYOND THE HORIZON
_{Evans Air Station}
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{4/24/2018 - 6:30 PM IST}

It had taken some time for Bianka to realize the full weight of what she'd done in the past twenty-four hours. The thought that her actions had indirectly led to the deaths of hundreds of Euphemian soldiers, perhaps more... had truly set in for her. She'd spent almost all Tuesday in bed, blankly watching television as she reminisced about what she'd done. A Vaalbarium device on a Euphemian facility, its detonation dooming the lives of hundreds of Euphemian troops. Even if they were enemy combatants, the thoughts regarding the morality of her actions plagued her.

Had she become a monster? Was this how it felt to lose one's conscience? ...and yet, CS troops at base hailed her as a hero. That was the other thing, too. The stress of her reputation was beginning to weigh down on her. Bianka felt as though she didn't deserve all this...

That wasn't everything, either. They were to relocate to Olmar Bay, a Ygarthene overseas possession, for the fact Ygartha was presently neutral in this affair. Bianka's actions had made her public enemy number one in Euphemie, and so relocating to a neutral country would make them much more difficult to be targeted — lest the FSE seek further diplomatic crisis. There was just one problem with that: Bianka couldn't speak a word of Ygarthene.
All of this had left her stressed and drained, psychologically and emotionally.

She lay in bed, idly watching television. Occasionally she'd check her phone, specifically the Harmony™[1] chatroom, TheInterstice.[2] It was a slow day online, which really didn't help her mood either.

"Hey Bianka." Niko interrupted her silent self-deprecation and brooding with a tap on the shoulder. He'd likewise been the only one idling in the barracks with her, as Luka and Karolina were out doing... something before they set off for Olmar in a few hours, presumably something important.

"What's up?" She tried to keep composure despite her conflicted thoughts, but it was quite obvious something was keeping her down.

"Figured since we're leaving this place soon, we might as well enjoy it. Wanna head out for a walk on the beach, forget about things for awhile?" Niko asked.

"I guess..." Bianka replied, slowly getting out of bed.

As the two wandered out of the barracks, they passed the usual sights of Augustan soldiers making their rounds about the base, aircraft of various nationality taking off and touching down, and the distant calls of seagulls in the distance. Olmar Bay surely wouldn't be that different, but Bianka had grown fond of Evans Air Station in the few weeks she'd been there. She'd definitely miss it.

6:35 PM IST

The base's sights soon gave way to small roads, quaint housing and palm trees once they'd passed the security checkpoint. In no time, they were in Enfield, which was bustling with life. There were plenty of off-duty soldiers too, a few which Bianka recognized.

"You're right, I really might start to miss this place." She looked on at the myriad sights in Enfield as they made their way to the beach.

Making their way past the busy street marketplaces, coffee shops and high-end stores, they soon found themselves at the beach. Just off the coast, a large craft awaited. This would soon be their ride out of Arcadia Island — the Lur-class ground-effect vehicle, more commonly known as an Ekranoplane among VDR troops... but that came later. Bianka simply wanted to enjoy the beach for a while.

"Mieszko is nothing like this." Bianka looked on at the sea, admiring the setting sun — which painted the sky and sea alike with a diverse assortment of beautiful colors.

"Shame we never got to enjoy this place until now." Niko added. Arcadia Island was definitely a place he'd be missing... at least he'd get to enjoy his last day there with a friend. "You looked like something was bothering you back at base... was it yesterday's mission?"

"Do you think I'm a monster? I singlehandedly caused all those people to die... even if they were enemies, it feels... wrong." Bianka lamented, following Niko as they traveled along the shoreline.
"No. We were doing our job, that's all." Niko reassured her as they walked on. The sound of waves crashing, seagulls, and the distant bustle of Enfield somehow made the experience all the more calming. He stopped his walk, looking on at the sunlit horizon with apprehension. "Wanna hear a story?"

"Uh, sure." Bianka stopped beside him, wondering what was troubling his thoughts...

"I was fifteen years old. Had a loving mother and father. A little sister, too... you remind me a bit of her." Niko began. "We were out one day, I remember it so vividly. We were at the Grand Mall of the Republic..."[3] He seemed... less arrogant and glib than usual. "...it all happened so fast. Explosion went off, shots firing..."

"Wait... that terrorist attack?" Bianka looked to Niko with worry.

"...yes. I was the only one in my family who survived. The United Empire Front[4]... from there I swore I'd join the Ludzowe Armie when I was old enough. If Euphemie was arming those bastards too, I wouldn't be surprised at all. You did the right thing, and we showed the Euphemians... that Valefontaine and her allies aren't to be messed with. They got what was coming to them — if we didn't steal that warhead, it'd be destined to hit a Turmenistanian city... just think about it."

Bianka was struck then with sadness and sympathy. She still had a family, one she hardly spoke with anymore. She'd been taking the fact she even had a family for granted. In that moment, it became perfectly clear to her why Niko was the way he was... and she could only feel sorry for him. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it." He said. "I'm saying... I'll fight for this country, right or wrong. Don't let you tell yourself that what you did was wrong, either... Euphemie had this coming. Every enemy soldier we kill brings this war a step closer to an end. We did great last mission, we'll do great again."
"You and Karolina make a pretty good team." Bianka complimented, agreeing with his last statement. "I don't know how you two managed to get a whole city up in arms with that broadcast, but at this point I don't even need to ask."

"I was just saying that to try and make you jealous." Niko laughed. "Say, isn't everyone in the Ludzowe Armie required to learn Augustan, Turmenistan, Sinican... all those languages?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Bianka tried not to overthink the first half of his statement.

"I don't think Luka or Karo know..." Niko thought aloud. "Not sure how they passed."

"Well, that's not too much of an issue." Bianka shrugged. "I do most of the talking, anyway." It did strike her as odd, now that she thought about it...

A silence came over the two as they looked on at the sunset, and eventually Bianka decided to sit down.

"I guess we'll stay here awhile, then." Niko sat down in the sand beside her, casually watching Augustan F-121s fly off into the distance. "Hey, Biko..."

"Hm?" She looked to him.

"You think we'll make it to the end of this war?" Niko asked. "And if so... what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

"I don't know, I guess I'll probably go back to making music or something." Bianka was always one to separate her online life from her real life, so the fact she'd reveal such a thing indicated she now trusted Niko, to some degree.

"Making music?" Niko questioned.

"I used to make Future Funk tracks here and there under the name ピンクの海ＰＩＮＫＯＣＥＡＮ." Bianka explained.

"Oh shit! Now that I think of it... your voice sounds a lot like hers!" Niko himself had been an avid listener, but never would've suspected his superior to lead such a talented secret life.

"I was going to release an EP last month... and then the war happened. Life, I guess. I still have them saved up on my phone, though... wanna listen?" Bianka took out her uPhone™[5], offering him one of the earbuds so they could listen together.

"Sure thing." He accepted the offer.

Opening up her Dancamp™[6] app, she accessed her tracklist, opening a song she'd set to 'private' ...

Almost four minutes had passed, the two casually listening to the music play on...

"Why would you join the Ludzowe Armie if you've got so much talent elsewhere?" Niko asked.

"I wanted to stop terrorism back at home, fight for my country. You remember the Markeb Siege?"[7]

"Yeah... whole bunch of crazy cultists."

"I was there. It's partly why I got my promotion." Bianka explained. "Things haven't changed one bit, I mean... now I'm just stopping terrorism abroad."

"I get you." Niko nodded, knowing his own ambitions and grudges — and how they brought him here.

"This war's been so stressful..." Bianka continued. "Sometimes I wish we had something more than these... standard-issue vape pens[8] to ease the stress."

"That so?" Niko laughed. "Don't tell anyone this, but I snuck some Chrysanthemum[9] with me on the way to Imalakia." He took out two blotters out of his uniform's pocket, offering one to Bianka.

"We appear to have yet another thing in common." Bianka accepted the offer, taking one of the blotters.

The world devolved into a stream of colors and fractal patterns as they drifted away...

Collis Palatium
_{Lee, District of Ophir}
_{Federal States of Euphemie}
_{9:05 PM EST}

Fern had been biding his time carefully, aware of what'd happened at Nw'engo. Since the previous day, he'd been briefed on the matter repeatedly, and he certainly had a decision before him as to how he'd handle this devastating blow.

A knock came at the door, to which he finally spoke. "Come on in."

"We have an update on the Nw'engo situation, Mr. President." Subdirector Hoover entered the room. His left cheek was marred with burns, presumably from the small Vaalbarium device used on the CDI building weeks prior. He didn't care, however, as he began wearing this injury with pride once he realized he hadn't been exposed to a life-threatening dose of radiation.

"That being?" Fern asked.

"Surviving Federal Army elements have been forced to the outskirts of the city. Nw'engo is effectively in anarchy, so they can move in to re-secure the city whenever you give the greenlight."

"How many casualties?"

"General staff is in the process of making an estimat—"

"How. Many. Casualties?" Fern pressed. He knew full well when the Subdirector was full of shit.

"One-thousand, five-hundred and five." Hoover admitted.

"We can't make a response, not with the nuclear backing Turmenista's allies have. Tell the Secretary of War I want the advance of the Federal Army into Turmenista to come to a halt... we cannot back down yet, but we will certainly make ourselves appear merciful to our opponents." Fern instructed.

"And THANATOS?"

"I know damn well they aren't on our side. An Ophir dominated by Euphemie works against their interests. We're on our own... but we certainly won't go down without a fight." Fern leaned back in his seat, a wry grin on his face. "God bless Euphemie."

#### - ####
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{7:15 PM IST}

"You've spent the past few weeks turning this apartment into an intel station?" Karolina raised an eyebrow, confused at what her MvH partner had been up to — and why he'd desperately brought her here. The room, otherwise a fashionable, expensive place into what could only be described as a... mini intelligence agency. Computers of various purpose and use, printers idly humming away as they printed transcripts and spreadsheets... it seemed quite the fascinating sight.

"I've been listening to chatter on the island for awhile now... and I can tell you something terrible is about to happen." Luka replied.

"Does it involve u—"

"Yes, it involves us."

Luka said something in a hushed tone, which had certainly startled Karolina...

"Then use... whatever you do with your clout in the Ministeria... to get us reassigned. I'd prefer not dying just because you have a hunch about some girl being important in this... conspiracy we're unravelling." Karo had been quite direct in getting her point across — why intentionally get yourself killed?

"No! This girl, she ain't done nothing wrong... we gotta warn her and her friend." Luka replied, almost baffled she'd propose such a heartless act.

"Are you going to get in the SNvI's way... because of another woman?" Karo questioned.

"Am I going to let a woman die, because of another woman? NO!" Luka shot back. "We gotta tell her the fuckin' truth about what's gonna happen, and then we gotta FUCKIN' PREPARE!"

"That would give us away, wouldn't it?"

"Do it look like I give a damn? We're the goddamn feds, and we're gonna find whoever's in charge of this conspiracy!"

"So, we're going by Ekranoplane... right?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Aren't the odds of surviving a plane crash... rather small?"

"This ain't no plane. At most, it's gonna be flyin' a few feet above the water, for the whole journey. If this happens, we'll be stranded at sea, worst case scenario."

"Look, I have my doubts. But I'm supposed to follow your orders... so I don't really have a choice in this. I just think you're about to do something very stupid by going on the plane anyway." Karo crossed her arms, clearly annoyed at the fact they'd be putting their life on the line for something so trivial — trivial, at least, in the grand scheme of things.

"If we try to avoid gettin' on the plane, the spooks'll know. We're gonna have to cope with the fact something bad might happen. It could even be a bluff, targeted at us. I'm just sayin'..."

"Then go warn them." Karo said. "We'll split the work — you try to warn them of their imminent danger, I'll clean up our little HQ before we depart."

Enfield Beach
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{7:30 PM IST}

Bianka sat beside Niko on the beach sands, worried. In the midst of her trip, she'd had some kind of epiphany... and she'd remembered what she did in Case White. The Bull had been speaking the truth... she did try, to some degree, to have Niko killed. She could remember sitting there, unable to move... the Bull aiming Bianka's Egzekutor pistol back and forth, between Adrienne and Niko... and he told her to decide. He did the opposite of what she said, of course, and killed Adrienne... it all came together.

How, or why she did this... was still blurry in her mind. The Bull had mentioned something about Dreamraker, but it couldn't be true... Now Bianka could only wonder if the path to remembering her past lay in the psychedelic drugs Niko had snuck along with him.

"We should do this again sometime." Niko watched the sun set off in the horizon.

"Niko, do you remember anything?" Bianka asked.

"Huh?" He looked to her, confused. Chrysanthemum didn't come with memory loss.

"From that day — Case White."

"Like I said, vaguely." Niko replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I remember..." Bianka couldn't take it anymore. Tears rolled down her face as she thought not of what happened — but what would've been, if Niko had gotten killed then. She'd have never gotten to know him for the person he truly was. Resting her head on his shoulder, she continued sobbing away, overcome with regret and guilt for everything she'd done in the past month.

"C-calm down." He was confused and taken aback by her sudden emotional breakdown.

"I don't want to lose you." She cried on, babbling incoherently about their mission in Case White.

This outburst would wind up being shorter than others, and soon the two were quietly watching the sunset again.
"I take it you're done." Niko looked to her, still unsure what to make of her emotional state. "We'll be heading out soon... we should get back to base." He noted the Ekranoplane, which still waited at shore.

"O-of course." She got up, wiping away tears from her brief outburst. "Let's get going."

"Right." Niko agreed, following behind her as they left the beach, beginning their walk back towards Enfield. He was glad the beach they'd chosen wasn't busy... otherwise Bianka's emotional fit would've been embarrassing to onlookers.

Barracks - E7
Evans Air Station
_{Enfield, Arcadia Island}
_{Republic of Turmenista}
_{7:30 PM IST}

"We been looking everywhere for you two." Luka complained. "Surely y'all weren't..."

"Excuse me?" Bianka looked to Luka, confused at what he was trying to imply.

"There's been a problem I've been intendin' to tell y'all about... there's a—"

"LAtR-13, 12. Falsczhirmkompania, 4. Platun Husaria, 3. Sektion... report to hangar for briefing..."

"Look, we gotta—"

"Don't worry, privat. You can tell me when we're on the Ekranoplane."

The four filled their kitbags with whatever important possessions they had on themselves — Bianka made sure to stow away their reassignment papers and the Thesis on Recurrence, as something about it... rang important to her. The walk to the hangar was a quiet one, an air of unease and apprehension hanging over them.
"Right on time." An officer — whose name they did not know — welcomed them at the hangar. "As your papers might indicate, the redeployment's reasoning is simple. You, sierzant, are something of a high-value target to the Euphies. As Turmenista's a belligerent in this conflict, they won't hesitate to attempt another attack on the base. Olmar Bay, on the other hand? They'll think twice before attracting international anger for attacking a neutral country. You all will be assigned to FOB Krinoen. While I expect you all to become well-acquainted with your surroundings, I will add that this assignment may not be permanent. You will continue operations per usual, just... from a safer place. Any questions?"

"Are we the only ones being sent over there?" Bianka asked.

"I'm going with you all... business reasons. But to answer what you're really asking, we may or may not send more folks there depending on how... amenable the Ygarthenes are with us. So be on your best behavior." The officer paused, turning around to another officer who was busy muttering on into his radio. "The flight ready?"

"Yes, sir. Just some last minute check-ups..."

Luka seemed to tense up at the man's words.

"Call in the transport." The officer instructed.

"Right away."

"You okay, Luka?" Bianka glanced to her squadmate, curious as to why he seemed so... on-edge.

"Indeed I am. Somethin' the matter?"

"Just thought you looked a little worried..."

"That's my secret, sierzant. I'm always worryin' ..."

Soon enough, their transport arrived. Much to Luka's dismay, it was a small FM-888[10] jeep. He'd be in no place to warn Bianka in such a place, where they'd easily be overheard by the driver.

"I'm sure gonna miss this place..." Niko looked on at the horizon, the last slivers of sunlight off in the distance.
"It was alright while it lasted. Hopefully Olmar Bay will be better..." Bianka nodded in agreement.

"Turmenista? Ygartha? Pfft... no comparison. Ygartha any day." Karolina added. To someone who'd spent most of her life in urban Valefontaine, Turmenista was hell.

Passing through Enfield rather quickly, they soon found themselves at the docks. The mysterious officer, who hadn't even given his name, stood beside them as he waited... presumably for the Ekranoplane.

Sure enough, it approached. Illuminating the surrounding water with its lights, it closed in on the docks, its engines emitting a low hum. It was huge too, looming over them as it finally arrived at the dock, a hatch being opened for their entry.

"Ah, Letnant Kurtz." One of the sailors (this was, after all, technically a naval craft) called out to the officer, saluting him. "Glad to have you aboard."

"Tell your commanding officer I said hello." The officer nodded, climbing inside.

"Ah, if it isn't the Sierzant herself!" The man at the door was even more pleasantly surprised to see Bianka. "You're known among the CS troops as the Liberator... I wish I was that popular. Come right aboard."

"Pleased to be aboard." Bianka replied, following the Letnant to whereever the seating on the craft lay. She was joined soon thereafter by the rest of 3. Sektion, and soon the engines began to pick up.

Lur-class Ekranoplane
_{Near Olmar Bay}
_{11:50 PM IST}

It'd been a few hours since their trip began, and Luka was still unable to warn Bianka of the imminent danger that might be posed to the squad — Letnant Kurtz was wide awake, unlike Bianka and Niko. They'd be in Olmar Bay soon, but he had no clue when it was going to happen.

"We'll be arriving in Olmar Bay in about twenty minutes... hang on tight." The pilot announced on the PA system. This, of course, woke up the rest of the squad, to Luka's relief. Something bad was going to happen, but he had no clue when... but it'd be best if they were awake when it happened.

The craft shook, further jolting Bianka awake.

"Huh?"

"Turbulence." Kurtz replied. "We're probably hitting a draft."

A loud BOOM sounded out from the left side of the craft, and in moments they were violently jolted forward. When all the chaos had subsided, they found themselves to be perfectly fine.

Crofton Cove
_{Olmar Bay}
_{Federal Republic of Ygartha}
_{1:05 AM IST}

"What the fuck was that?!" Niko called out, confused by whatever had just happened.

"Don't panic." Bianka urged the squad to remain calm... to her surprise, Luka and Karo were oddly calm about the situation before them.

"Let's hear what the pilot has to say." Luka suggested, gesturing to one of the PA system speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've lost our left wing and beached. Radio is FUBAR." The pilot announced. "Try lighting a flare at...whereever we landed. We're within Ygarthene territory... I believe."

"I'll deal with it." Bianka was quick to action, grabbing a flare from her kitbag. "I'll also try to radio in for help from there."

"You ain't heading out there alone. We're basically in Imalakia." Luka got up, grabbing a KbK from the weapons rack — much of the squad followed this gesture, getting ready to get out.

"I suppose I'll speak with the crew." Kurtz rose to his feet, nonchalantly picked up an Egzekutor from the weapon rack, and headed to the front...

Bianka headed out, trudging on the sand with Luka, Niko and Karo behind her...

"What if they don't see our flare?" Karo asked.

"The flares will just make our position easier to see. I'm going to pop a flare and then make the call for help."

Above them, a large cliff loomed overhead, its facade covered in moss, vines and other growths of the jungle. Bianka was quick to pop the flare, set it upon the sand, and attempt to use her radio... to no avail.

"It's not working...?" Bianka was confused at the fact their radios weren't working either.

From aboard the Ekranoplane, a flare shot upward into the air, illuminating the jungle and beach below in bright red light. She could only assume Kurtz instructed one of the crewmen to use a flare gun.

"Something is amiss..." Karolina thought aloud.

"What's on your mind, Karo?" Luka looked to his 'squadmate' ... wondering if she'd found their issue yet.

"There's no reason our radios shouldn't be functioning... unless they've been jammed. Bianka is right, our radios aren't working."

A second flare shot upward into the air, further illuminating the beach. This time, it was followed by a distant sound — the sound of bushes and trees being overturned, of loud thunderous steps, not of man, but of beast...
"Uhhh... what's that sound?" Niko exchanged a nervous glance to the others.

"You ever hear of the Imalakian Junglestalker?"[11] Luka questioned, readying his KbK.

"Uh, no." Niko replied. "Should I know?"

"Imalakian Junglestalker?" Karolina questioned.

Luka chuckled. "It appears we don't watch the same nature documentaries."

"What's an Imalakian Junglestalker?" Bianka joined the others in questioning whatever Luka was referring to.

"That's an Imalakian Junglestalker." Luka aimed his KbK at the cliffside.

Bianka turned around, seeing what Luka had been alluding to. A horror of a creature lay before them: an arachnid beast, the size of a minivan, its eight limbs quickly taking it down the cliff. It moved with terrifying speed and agility, approaching what it clearly perceived to be prey.

3. Sektion was looking on silently, as if left speechless by the terror of the beast...

"FIRE!" Bianka screamed, hands trembling as she pulled down on her KbK's trigger, firing wildly at the giant arachnid.
The bullets practically did nothing to penetrate the Junglestalker's dense carapace, instead it appeared to incur mild pain — and anger — in the beast.

It stepped away from them, its abdomen suddenly jutting forward. Viscous, dense silk shot forth from its spinnerets, entangling Luka.

"FUCKER GOT ME!" He screamed. "HELP!" It began to drag him back, Luka screaming and attempting to shoot the arachnid as it reeled him closer.
The squad began opening fire at the monster, particularly focusing on its abdomen. The fear had been too much for Bianka, however, and she dropped her KbK as she trembled wildly with fear. The rest of the squad, however, was doing a decent job at targeting the Junglestalker's abdomen. Karolina's shot had been a good one, as it struck the spinneret. The spider recoiled, releasing its trail of silk — and Luka, as it practically leaped back from the pain it was probably experiencing.
"I ain't signed up for this!" Luka picked up his KbK, resuming the squad's usual activity of wildly and desperately firing at the beast.

It did little to faze the creature, which then proceeded to lunge forward. This time, it had found Bianka to be viable prey. Knocking Bianka over with impressive force, it loomed over her, its chelicerae dripping and oozing with venom. She certainly wouldn't want to be bitten by this thing.

"OH GOD! HELP!" Bianka's own arachnophobia did little to help her situation, shaking with fear at the sight of the monster.
To further her dismay, its spinnerets got to work, covering her legs in silk — presumably to restrict her movement.

The rest of 3. Sektion continued firing at the Junglestalker, Karolina and Luka's shots being particularly accurate in striking the creature's jaws. Bianka's uniform was partially showered in arachnid blood as the creature recoiled back and retreated to the edge of the cove, even more affected by its mouth injury.
"You alright, Biko?" Luka called out.

"I don't think my bladder's gonna handle a second spider attack too well..." She replied.

Still staggering from its injuries, the spider began its ascent up the cliff — making an even greater jump at the squad. Perhaps due to its injuries, however, it staggered, hitting the ground early and overcorrecting as it did, yet somehow still managing to crash into Karolina. Pinning her to the ground, it prepared its chelicerae again.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING? HEL—" The jaws of the creature were struck by the combined gunfire of 3. Sektion once again, Karo's scream being cut short as it jumped away from her.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR RESCUE?" Niko's voice trembled with fear as the creature quickly made its way about the cove, presumably to attack again.
The spider crawled up the cliff, making its retreat into the treeline... for now.

Bianka looked on at the forest atop the cliff, heart racing with fear. "W-what happens if it bites you?"

"You die. Simple as that." Luka replied. "Didn't bite you, right?"

"N-no... it didn't bite me." Bianka shook her head. "We should get indoors, before-"

Whichever crewman had fired the flare gun had fired it again, dousing the beach in a red light once more.

"...we should get indoors." Bianka urged them inside the Ekranoplane, making doubly sure to close the hatch as they entered.

"What have I missed?" Kurtz returned whilst smoking a cigarette, presumably he'd been speaking with the crew.

"What have you missed?!" Bianka took a moment to realize she was speaking to someone superior in rank to her. "...all due respect, sir ... there's a giant fucking spider out to kill us!"

"Ah, I suppose that explains the blood on your uniform."
"Sir, I have reason to believe our radio's been jammed." Karolina tried to not think about the terrifying fight they'd just had with the Imalakian Junglestalker.

"And you'd be correct." Kurtz nodded, producing a rectangular electronic device from his coat pocket. "This jammer was activated moments after our left wing was blown out. I believe someone intended for us to die."
"How'd it get activated?" Bianka questioned.

"Remotely." Kurtz gestured to a little antennae on the device.

"Did you contact the Ygarthans?" Luka asked.

"Certainly. They're well on their way. We crashed surprisingly close to the FOB." Kurtz said.

Sure enough, the sound of rotors in the distance approached. The 15-man crew, presumably ready to get to the beach, filed in, fetching KbKs off the weapon rack. Bianka hadn't a clue whether or not the men were aware there was a giant spider stalking the jungles outside, but surely they'd heard the gunfire, right?

"Careful, gentlemen." Kurtz gestured to the crewmen. "The Sierzant here says there's a giant spider out to kill them." Something about his unconcerned, condescending tone irritated Bianka. He led the way outside, which was still illuminated by the flare.
There were some chuckles among the men as they trudged along the sand, seeing no such spider anywhere in sight. The sound of rotors in the distance gradually drew nearer until three Ygarthene helicopters hovered overhead, beams of light shining down on the beach. Leaping from the cliff, the arachnid hit the ground with a thud, preparing to finish its prey off once and for all...

"Ah, so this is the spider." Kurtz noted, looking at the beast.

Thunderous gunfire sounded out, and to Bianka's surprise, the helicopters were firing down on the Junglestalker. When the machinegun fire stopped, a mess of blood, dismembered spider organs and destroyed carapace was all that remained of the beast.
"See? That was easy." Kurtz chuckled to himself, watching the helicopters descend. "You four will be with me on this one." He pointed up to one of the Ygarthene helicopters.

"F-fair enough..." Bianka nodded, looking at the smoldering arachnid carcass a few feet away from them.

Boarding the helicopter, they were greeted by a Ygarthene officer, whom Kurtz seemed to know quite well, judging by the fact the two were speaking in Ygarthene to one another.

"What did you say?" Bianka asked.

"Just told him to get us to Olmar Bay ASAP." Kurtz replied. Looking back to the other officer, he spoke in Ygarthene again. "Dit is het korte meisje..." The two men chuckled. "Laat haar uiterlijk je niet voor de gek houden."

The Ygarthene officer nodded, still smiling as he extended a hand to Bianka. "I have heard a lot of your achievements. You'll find FOB Krinoen to be of satisfactory conditions." He spoke in semi-fluent Valefontene.

"Pleasure to meet you...?" Bianka seemed to be asking for the man's name as she returned the gesture by shaking his hand.

"Kolonel Albers."

"Kolonel... Albers." Bianka nodded, mouthing the name.

"Do not worry about that spider — they are rare. I do apologize for the... rough first impression." He continued. "Me and Kurtz, we, uhh... know each other for a long time. Do not worry about that, either."

Bianka couldn't help but feel an aura of mystery lingering around the two men. Olmar Bay might be more interesting than she'd thought... but the first order of business to her would be getting clean clothes and rest upon arriving at Krinoen.

CONTEXT NOTES

1 - Harmony™ - The chat service Harmony™ is well-known for its excellent auto-translation system, and is in general a widespread service among Internet users.

2 - TheInterstice - Chatroom of Bianka and her friends.

3 - Grand Mall of the Republic - One of the largest malls in Valefontaine, the Grand Mall of the Republic was built in 1970 to sustain the increasing shift to a consumer-based society. In 2013, it was affected by a terrorist attack by the United Empire Front, the armed wing of the United Empire League, a banned neo-fascist, neo-monarchist political party in the VDR.

4 - United Empire Front - Armed wing of the United Empire League.

5 - uPhone™ - Popular line of smartphones in the VDR. The Copeland sysCorp controversy of a few months prior is fading away from public memory, and sales are gradually returning to their usual.

6 - Dancamp™ - A widespread platform for artists to manage and put out their music.

7 - Markeb Siege - In 2015, cultists worshipping the star Markeb were found to be possessing a grand amount of illegal firearms by the MvH. The MvH, the Agency for Firearms and Lasers, the Federal Narcotics Agency, the Federal Mounted Police and LAtR-13 were all employed to bring the cultists to justice. They succeeded, but it became a well-known event in public memory due to the VDR government's use of tear gas to flush out the cultists.

8 - standard-issue vape pens - Vape pens are standard issue for the VDR infantryman, as a form of stress relief.

9 - Chrysanthemum - Popular psychedelic drug in the VDR. While previously used by psychonauts and researchers, the drug has seen a massive trend in recreational use since the early 2010's. The likelihood of the drug being criminalized is low, as most of the Ludzkongress themselves are probably users of the drug. The most common effects of the drug are visual hallucinations and illusions, starting within minutes of use. The effects typically conclude within 20 minutes, but can be prolonged to 8 hours if multiple doses are taken. The intensity of said 'trips' relate to the potency and dosage.

Though there are no laws in Valefontaine regarding its recreational use among adults and minors, it should be used responsibly.

10 - FM-888 - A Valefontene jeep, see Ludzowe Armie page on WorldWideWiki.

11 - Imalakian Junglestalker - Like Turmenista, Imalakia has megafauna of its own. The Imalakian Junglestalker, however, is one of the more terrifying examples of such. With adult sizes ranging from that of a bicycle to that of a minivan, they are a terror to behold. They are rare, however, and breed extremely slowly. There are an estimate of 300 to be alive in the wild. Their favorite prey are elephants and Turmenistanian sloths, but can attack humans if they are provoked.

WS: Series One [New Ausozera Only, Archive]

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