OOC: Big thank you to
The Selkie for their help!
ApuilaInsurgency is tricky business. The insurgent, for one, is always at a disadvantage; the government has bombs, tanks, aircraft, and the insurgent generally does not. All insurgent tactics are meant to counter this; hiding amongst the civilian population, retreating to the forests and mountains, living in the sewers;
all are meant to offset the government’s generally-massive advantage in firepower.
Under Mao’s model of guerrilla warfare, the first stage of insurgency is organization. A vanguard group of professional insurgents was founded; the SWA was blessed in this regard, due to its origins as a law-enforcement agency. The south, officially billed as the ‘most pro-Insaastani’ regions, masked massive ethnic tensions and an impoverished populace who trusted their new Arabian colonial masters even less than the old, Northern-dominated central-government. From there a network of sympathizers, safehouses, and all the infrastructure of armed struggle was built, and the SWA began looking outwards. Assassinations, infrastructure sabotage, and bombings against government buildings, to say nothing of the arson committed against collaborators. Waves of violence rocked the city for years, with the SWA working to widen the gulf between the native Italians of Apuila and the colonizers.
There comes a point, however, with every successful insurgency, during which the government is weakened; be it from the insurgency’s own actions, or the actions of outside actors. Now, with the whole world bearing down on Insaanistan, the Social Welfare Agency saw it’s chance, and in a swift operation had seized control of the government, as well as large stockpiles of heavy weapons, armored fighting vehicles, and . Now, the struggle was to maintain their hold on Apulia, push north, deal with the colonizers and Maoists, and find immediate foreign support; then, once Italy was free, they would turn their attention to Iberia and it’s liberation.
Outskirts of OstuniThe pickup truck, with the flag of Italy flying from it, was a new sight for the citizens of the countryside. Previously the SWA had come in little convoys of men on foot, with supplies to trade for food, shelter, and the like. But one thing did not change; the SWA was not a nuisance, certainly for the yeoman-farmers in the agrarian heartlands of Italy, from which once upon a time, legions had sprung and cast-down Carthage for the sake of the fatherland, with naught but a little farm as payment for their toils.
The sight of the SWA, with pickups and heavy-machine guns, brought hope to the countryside. This patrol, however, was not here to drop off supplies and aid, or to pick up fighters, but to investigate a strange sight.
The camp of the 12 Mujahideen would awaken to the sound of motors, followed by a small knot of armed men wearing green rags across their sleeves approaching, rifles stowed and flying a white flace of truce. They appeared to be here to talk.
WarsawNOW PLAYING: 2-10 ”Teatime Fast Forward”; Katawa Shoujo OST - NicolArmarfi & Blue123
The wind rustled through Lillian MacDuff’s flaxen-gold hair as she leaned on one of Warsaw’s many park-benches. The 43-year-old(although she looked several years younger) Scotswoman was one of Prussia-Poland’s youngest generals; her first taste of combat, at 14, was during the Civil War, then followed by her participation in the Invasion of Iraq and the post-Invasion occupation as a young lieutenant/ Lillian soon caught the eye of her senior officers for her quick thinking and her ability to hold herself together under fire, even when a shell-splinter did her eyes in.
Her blindness did not slow her rise or her mind, and soon she found herself rising through the ranks; and now, she was a General. Granted, she was mostly involved in planning and logistics now, but with the Italian War and Prussia-Poland’s declaration of war, perhaps she would be tapped to head the ground element; she could think of no other reason that they would drag her out here and ask to speak alone.
Lillian heard the sound of shoes on cobble next to her; someone was approaching.
She turned her head to face the sound. “Hullo?” she asked.
“General Macduff.” the voice responded, followed by a shuffling of papers. “I have a message for you to reply to.”
He handed her a heavy piece of paper, with raised bumps pressed into it. Braille.
Lillian ran her fingers over the message rapidly.
Requesting your presence as commander of the Prussian-Polish contingent for the liberation of Italy.
A smile broke on her face; she was going back. “Of course.” she replied.
“Excellent.” came the reply.
A declaration of war by Prussia-Poland came out, followed by invitations for all nations to join in the liberation of the European colonies; Austria-Hungary, Germany, Exodia, Lauzanne, the Free Lands, South Reinkalistan and the Carribean Confederation were all invited to join the war of liberation.
RomeNOW PLAYING: Ace Combat 5, "The Unsung War" - Razgriz(Instrumental, The Warsaw Philharmonic)
Twelve streaks of grey streaked through the Alps, fresh from their base at Landsberg-Lech Air Base. Tornado ECRs were sheparded by F-15Es and Cs of the Prussian-Polish Luftwaffe, with the former armed for a strike mission and the latter armed for air-interdiction operations. Over the Adriatic Sea, a lumbering AWACS, operated by a French PMC crew, provided Command and Control for the group.
As the planes closed in on Rome, final checks began to be made. The pilots heard a crackle of static, as the AWACS, known to them as Elise, began to speak.
"Morning, gentlemen!" she said, cheerily. "How are you all doing?"
"Stupid Flight, checking in." The Prussian-Polish F-15E flight lead said. "How long until Rome?"
"You're five minutes out from the city limits. You should be getting interception soon. Weapons free from here on out; I'll let you know when they start organizing a reception."
"Roger that, Elise. Cheerio."
With that, radio silence resumed, breaking only as they flew over Rome.
As they approached the outskirts of Rome, they began their dance. The Tornadoes went in first, drawing out and then blasting hostile radar sites and air defenses. Once a breach was made, the F-15Es and Cs rushed in and began striking key targets; power transformers, railway junctions, and airports. A few munitions were spared for government buildings as well. At the end of it all, Rome was shaken, in the dark, with disrupted water and rails, while the planes headed home.
Sewers beneath RomeThe sewers were dark and damp, but they were safe. Sophia had split off with the Carribean delegation to their extraction point a while back, and now it was just Mariana, Giuseppe, Hillshire, and the Selkie-delegation, as well as a duct-taped Nura walking with a gun pointed at her head..
Hillshire cleared his throat. “Right. Mister Veidhlín. There are some things we should clear up before we leave, regarding the organization we all work for.”
Veidhlín nodded. “To my understanding, the Social Welfare Organization is a nationalistic, Italian group aiming to liberate Italy from foreign rule - a noble goal. One, which the Free Lands support.”
“That is correct.” Giuseppe responded. “But we were not always an insurgency.” He sighed and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, before lighting up a smoke and taking a puff from it.
“Hillshire, do you want to explain?”
“I can, if you don’t want to.”
Giuseppe seemed distant as he nodded.
Hillshire picked up from his partner. “Now, I can’t really prove it conclusively to you right now. But there are files, papers that we keep at Headquarters from the old days, and doubtless there are leftover Carabinieri documents in some archive in Rome about us.”
He paused for a second, before resuming. “I guess I’ll cut to the chase. We are- well, were, really a... special operations unit, of sorts. Primarily focused on internal security, law-enforcement, counter-terrorism, that sort of thing; you know how the Germans have GSG-9, the Prussian-Poles have the Royal Constabulary Border Regiment, and so forth? We were like that, in a sense. But...how do I say this.”
“The difference was that I, and people like me, were the...how do you put it. Wetworkers.” Mariana butted in.
Veidhlín looked at her with a puzzled expression. “My apologies, I am not familiar with that term.”, he said, looked back to Liliane, who shrugged as well. “What does a wetworker do?”
“I shot people.” Mariana replied, bluntly. “Or, at least, my predecessors 60 or more years ago did.”
Veidhlín looked at Mariana, looked her up and down. It was clear by his expression, that he was not entirely convinced - yes, he had seen her at the Conference, he had seen her handle her gun and he had seen her now, but still… she did not strike him as a killer or assassin. She looked like a teenager, who you would see on the streets of Fortham, loitering around with a few friends talking about whichever boygroup was in fashion right now or which actor was perceived as cute or handsome.
Then again, that might be her great asset., he thought - who would presume an unassuming teenager to be a killer?
Still, he replied: “Ah, thank you for clearing that up. So… the SWA was once a counter-terrorism unit training and sending young men and women out on missions, covertly, if I understood you correctly?”
Hillshire nodded. “Yes, but…” He glanced over at Mariana.
“...That’s not the only thing they did to me.” Mariana replied. “Or to my predecessors. Lillaine, was it? You’re carrying a blade, right?”
Liliane nodded.
“Stab my arm.” Mariana replied.
“Uh… no?”
“Fine.” Mariana sighed. “...Mind if I pick you up or something?”
Liliane looked to Veidhlín, who nodded. “Sure, as long as you think you can handle me.”
Without a further word, Mariana grabbed Liliane by the waist and slung her over her shoulder, before then lifting her up with her other hand, and then letting her down.
“They messed with my arm, simply put.” Mariana said. “There’s all manner of hydraulics and whatnot in there now. Same story with my legs too; what else, Giuseppe?”
The man looked up from the floor. “Brain too.” he said. “I’m not sure how you managed to resist it but I’m damned glad you did. Heart as well, but that’s not as important.”
Liliane looked surprised, dazed, as did Veidhlín - the latter put a hand onto the former’s arm, stabilizing her. He did not know, how heavy Liliane was (and he would not ask her, because he liked where his balls were right now), but he would bet, that he would not be able to lift her like that.
“Whatever they did…”, Liliane said, “...they did a lot.” She swallowed. “Remind me to not get into a fistfight with you.”
“I’d be getting into fistfights on your behalf.” Mariana groused. “With my predecessors, they did a lot more; they’d probably be able to lift you up with a single finger, from what I’ve heard.”
“So…”, Veidhlín resumed, “The SWA once was a counter-terrorism unit…
enhancing? Is that the right word?” He paused for a moment. “In any case, modifying the bodies of people for their own agenda, in accordance with their orders. So… how did you become a Nationalist Revolutionary Group then?”
“Well, first we were ‘cleaned up’ by the Carabinieri.” Hillshire replied. “It wasn’t just enhancement. The old SWA did...conditioning, as well. I’m not sure about the process myself but it involved wiping old and potentially traumatic memories out. Sophia...is one of those who went through that. One of the last ones, really, before we stopped with it. But yes, we ‘adopted’ orphans, mindfucked them. Or at least used to. And that’s not exactly a good look if it gets out, and the previous Italian government figured that it could just suppress the criminal element with regular police and troops since our job was done.”
Veidhlín nodded. It didn’t exactly look good, he would say, but it looked better as Hillshire was honest about it - he was telling them, instead of leaving it as a nasty little secret in the back of the locker. It was… as if the man was trusting them, to some extend at least, it seemed. But who knew what was going on in his mind.
“Ain’t right either.” Giuseppe spoke up, his voice cracking slightly. “The old agency really fucked up some of those kids.”
“Better, I think, than leaving them to rot in an orphanage or the ICU.” Hillshire replied, although even he didn’t seem sure.
“You haven’t seen the sort of shit we put the old kids through, Hillshire.” Giuseppe replied. “You weren’t there. It was horrible. Bordered on torture. Glad we got rid of those bastards.”
Mariana shrugged. “I think I’d prefer how I am now.” She cracked a wry smile. “It’ll be great for my college application; how many other kids can put ‘massacred colonizers alongside a brainwashed 12 year old’ on their distinctions and honors?”
Veidhlín was silent, looked to Liliane. “Younger Militia.”
“Not really comparable, but close.”, Liliane replied, then explained: “Once you get into school in the Free Lands, you are… well, drafted would be the closest term, into the Younger Militia. There you are trained to defend your city, town, village, hamlet, whatever with pike, sword and bow, alternatively crossbow, in case of a foreign invasion. Nowadays, it’s ceremonial and while we still march and learn the basics, the majority of the Younger Militia Training is more focussed on practical things, like first aid, and of course on their ceremonial duties. No one expects them to oppose a foreign invader with pointy sticks again, not after Anfa.”
“Do they systematically wipe out memories of your childhood?” Giuseppe replied.
Veidhlín shook his head. “No, admittedly.”, he said, “Hence, not really comparable. We do know the direction, though - these kids are… well, child soldiers, like the Younger Militia once was. And still, technically is.”
Mariana nodded. “I see. Well, once this whole business is over...Might pay your place a visit and see for myself. I’d like to start over at some point, after I’m done.”
Liliane nodded. “When you do, give me a shout. I’ll show you some cool places.”, she offered.
“Thanks.” Mariana replied, with a smile. “I’ll take you up on that. Oh, one more thing.”
She poked Nura’s back with a bayonet. “Mind taking this insufferable bitch off our hands? Don’t want her getting ‘rescued’ and we can’t really contain her magic bullshit.”
Veidhlín paused a moment, but he nodded slowly. “We’ll have to get a few agreements in place regarding her first, but generally, that can be done.”
“Nice.” Hillshire replied, breaking out into a smile.
“No promises.”, Veidhlín said, tempering the enthusiasm, “It depends on a few different factors, for example on my own government agreeing. Or the Captain of the ship, in who’s brig we would throw her into to rot for a while.”
“Still.” Giuseppe replied. “I hope she’s out of our hair soon.”
The end of the sewer approached; soon they would be at the rendezvous point.