Lobotomy of Blue Zone 1's Ex-President(Open, MT)

[Reformed Britannia]

OOC:There is a 6 sentence minimum in this thread, try to make the posts sorta detailed if you can

Relations between Grecht-Albertsstein and Britannia had been strained incredibly; Grecht-Albertsstein had broken its treaty obligations that ended the war between the powers and was now aggressively asserting its sovereignty over its native lands, which had caused quite a bit of ire in Britannia. But relations were about to get a whole lot better, when the nation of Grecht-Albertsstein delivered a high-profile prisoner into the hands of the Britannians-John Hapgood, former dictator of Blue Zone 1.

Hapgood was the one who had called for invasions and embargoes of practically any nation that met with his displeasure, and he had also provoked an invasion of his own country after his forces murdered diplomats at the Weimar Conference Against Great Nepal. In the aftermath of this invasion, Blue Zone 1 was carved up between the victorious allies, and John Hapgood fled the country.

Needless to say, he was considered a criminal by many nations, Britannia included. Now that the Britannians had their hands on Hapgood, it was time to remove this menace from the world once and for all.
The following message was sent out to high-profile foreigners:
An Invitation
Greetings, ________. You have been invited to witness an event that will certainly be remembered by members of the world community, for better or worse-the lobotomy of the ex-president of Blue Zone 1, John Hapgood. The lobotomy will take place at the King James Theatre in Kensington as soon as possible.

Once again, you are invited to come and witness this historic event as John Hapgood is reduced to a blubbering vegetable by the removal of key segments of his brain.

[Castryan]

To: Reformed Brittania
From: The peoples republic of Castryan
Subject: Lobotomy of BZ1 ex-president.

We thank you for your invitation, and we are proud to say that I am once again going to represent my people on the international stage. I intend to be present at this event as my people were involved in the invasion of the ex-presidents homeland. This time I will be joined by 2 neurosurgeons and 1 psychologist who represent the chief medical institutes of my homeland.

Is it deemed acceptable if we ask for brief accommodation ? We will set out for your shores post haste.

Yours sincerely

Commandante C Downs

[Cyrupe]

A lone plane arrived in Reformed Britannia. It bore no markings aside from it's call sign, 'CYR-1' and it's tail number, 'NN08K2Z'. On board was the Cyrupean President himself, Christopher Karluk, his wife Michell and his son Mark. They were to watch the lobotomy of the insane man, John Hapgood. While he had never threatened Cyrupe or her colonial powers in the past, they had engaged in practices that were typically frowned upon in Cyrupean culture.

The plane landed and rolled to gate A8 to await the escort to the King James Theatre in Kensington. "This has been my what? 103rd trip to Britannia since I became president?"

Michell was amused by her own husband's loss of the ability to count properly. "17th time, dear. Why?"
"Well," he replied, "It just seems that every time I go here, the weather is either freezing cold or melting hot." Michell rolled her eyes and smiled softly, "You may have a point there, but please, behave yourself this time. I don't want to get evacuated by our special forces again just because you got in a gun fight." Christopher was dearly sorry about that moment and hated every time his wife brought it up. "You'll never let that one go will you?"

Michell stared off into the distance, noticing a limousine was coming towards them. "Nope." She spun around with a touch of amusement in her voice, "And I never will."

[Reformed Britannia]

To: Reformed Brittania
From: The peoples republic of Castryan
Subject: Lobotomy of BZ1 ex-president.

We thank you for your invitation, and we are proud to say that I am once again going to represent my people on the international stage. I intend to be present at this event as my people were involved in the invasion of the ex-presidents homeland. This time I will be joined by 2 neurosurgeons and 1 psychologist who represent the chief medical institutes of my homeland.

Is it deemed acceptable if we ask for brief accommodation ? We will set out for your shores post haste.

Yours sincerely

Commandante C Downs

Commandante Downs,

We would gladly provide accomodation to you and your retinue at the Clarkson Hotel in Kensington. It is a five-star hotel and is often regarded as the finest in all Britannia, and many notable guests have stayed at the Clarkson in the past.
We look forward to seeing you at the event; a limousine will provide transport to the theatre if needed.


The limousine pulled up beside the tarmac, and the driver honked his horn. He was there to take the Cyrupean president and his wife to the King James Theatre, so they could witness the event. The driver was a well-dressed young man, probably in his late twenties, and he wore a carnation on his well-tailored suit'
s lapel.

[Castryan]

To: Reformed Brittania
From: The peoples republic of Castryan
Subject: Lobotomy of BZ1 ex-president.

We thank you for your invitation, and we are proud to say that I am once again going to represent my people on the international stage. I intend to be present at this event as my people were involved in the invasion of the ex-presidents homeland. This time I will be joined by 2 neurosurgeons and 1 psychologist who represent the chief medical institutes of my homeland.

Is it deemed acceptable if we ask for brief accommodation ? We will set out for your shores post haste.

Yours sincerely

Commandante C Downs

Commandante Downs,

We would gladly provide accomodation to you and your retinue at the Clarkson Hotel in Kensington. It is a five-star hotel and is often regarded as the finest in all Britannia, and many notable guests have stayed at the Clarkson in the past.
We look forward to seeing you at the event; a limousine will provide transport to the theatre if needed.

From: Commandante C Downs
To: Reformed Brittania
Thank you for setting up accommodation for us. As for a limousine to the theatre, that won't be necessary. We would rather walk in order to admire your city.

Sincerely

The Commandante

Having departed earlier that day, the Commandante and his entourage landed in reformed Brittania on a passenger jet en-route to another nation. The Commandante got off the plane on the runway, once the plane had stopped next to the terminal. What appeared to be another delegate had already landed, and a limo had arrived to pick the delegate up. The Commandante quickly made his way over to the limo and walked over to the drivers side. He smiled and began.

'Excuse me comrade, but is this a limousine for the Castryan party or another delegate ?'

[Goober Kingdom]

An entourage of military transport helicopters landed at an airfield in Reformed Britannia. They immediatley got out and stormed the abandonned airfield, setting up reconaissance positions as they went along. They all knew that shortly Rall would arrive with more soldiers and his aides. To mask his appearence, he was also in a military transport helicopter. He was 15 minutes away from Britannia.

[Cyrupe]

OOC: Won't post in this thread much for the next 30-50 minutes. Feel free to RP the family if you feel it is needed to continue on the story line.

The Cyrupean family heard the horn and quickly loaded their bags into the limousine. Loading themselves into the car was slightly less annoying than their luggage. "I believe it is to take place at King James Theatre. However, I am positive you already know that." Christopher was agitated at his wife for embarrassing him, but then again, he had made a fool out of her several times before.

[Reformed Britannia]

The driver of the limo looked up at the Commandante, and shook his head.
"I'm sorry good sir, but this limo is for the Cyrupean delegation. However, we do have several other limos on standby if you need a drive." The driver looked back as the President of Cyrupe and his wife loaded their luggage into the car.
"Oh, yes, of course I know that. I'll get you there as soon as I can." The driver looked back to the Commandante.
"Excuse me, but I really must be going. If you need a lift, feel free to wave one of those limos over," the driver said, motioning towards a line of limousines parked beside the tarmac. The driver pulled away from the airfield, and began heading off in the direction of the King James Theatre.

The drivers watched the transport helicopters land with suspicion, and one of the limos prepared to drive up to whoever was being escorted by this more-than-moderate entourage.

[Castryan]

'Thank you sir. I'll probably see you again shortly.'

He took a step back to let the limo past and waved another forward. He opened the boot and put his duffel bag in alongside the doctors briefcases. He opened the door and motioned the doctors into the car. The Commandante got in and spoke up.

'Can we be taken to King James theatre please ?'

[Greisvelgr]

Nistak racked the bolt on his AK-47 as he inspected it. A beautiful piece of arms manufacturing, capable of pumping out bullets killing seven men each.
Kyman double-checked the grenades he carried--two frags, four flashcrackers, and a willie pete, just to make things interesting. He loaded his Remington 870 shotgun.
Artio placed the ammunition belt of his PKM into its mechanism, and closed it shut. He carried a good amount of tracer ammunition, enough to last in a protracted firefight, which was something they anticipated.
Marchyuk screwed the silencer onto his Bizon, and inserted the magazine into its position. They were ready to kill people to get to their target, and they were not inexperienced about it either.
Rustaan kept the car running. He cocked the slide on his Mini-Uzi, with its magazined taped together. it barely fit in the weapon, but was mobile enough to not pose a problem should a firefight commence. He also checked the pad on his chest that was connected to the EKG device located next to him. The device was wired up to a nice surprise, should anything unfortunate happen to him.
"Gentlemen, let's get this show on the road," Nistak said to the other four.
"Yes, man," Kyman said. "Let's make history."

The four gunmen left their van and walked to the back door of the theater. The van blocked the view of them from anyone outside the alleyway.
The door was locked. Marchyuk took out his lockpick gun, a device which could force open a lock on a door. He would have preferred to use his own lockpicks, but that required time, something that was not on their side.
The pick gun did not fail him, and the door was unlocked. Marchyuk raised his Bizon and shouldered the door open. At the other end of the hallway was a security guard who was minding the hallway on the other side of the room. He turned idly to see who it was.
Marchyuk put a 9mm bullet through his forehead. The four of them moved past the deceased security guard to the backstage area. He did the same to another security guard, putting a well-aimed burst right into his back. They reached the rear curtain, and took positions, Nistak and Kyman on stage right, Artio and Marchyuk on stage left.
"Do it," Nistak told Kyman.
Kyman took the flashbang from his webbing and threw it onto the other side of the curtain. The curtain muffled the sound somewhat for the four of them and blocked the flash, but the others on the stage itself weren't so fortunate.
They charged the stage.
John Hapgood was strapped to an operating table in the center of the stage. The surgeons around him were lurched over in pain, covering their eyes and ears as the flashbang grenade did its work, as were the pair of guards on the stage. Nistak put a three-round burst into one of them as Marchyuk pulled his trigger all the way onto the second guard, emptying two dozen bullets into him in but a second. Artio raked the theater with fire from his PKM, causing the security guards armed with pistols and light body armor to duck behind whatever cover they could find.
Nistak walked to the center of the stage where John Hapgood was located, assisting Artio with a hail of AK-47 fire. As he reached the operating table, he struck a surgeon with the butt of his rifle and knocked him to the stage.
Kyman walked with Nistak, and placed the muzzle of his shotgun against one of the surgeons. He pulled the trigger, blasting the man's skull into hundreds of fragments.
"Lobotomize that, you svatchya!" he yelled.
Marchyuk grabbed one of the surgeons and pulled him to his feet. He used the man as cover and as a brace for his Bizon.
Nistak used his knife to cut the leather restraints that held Hapgood to the surgeon's table. He was most certainly disoriented by the flashbang's effects as well.
"Mister Hapgood!" he said over the gunfire, "we've come to get you out of here!" He helped the former dictator of Blue Zone 1 off of the operating table.
There was an explosion as one of Kyman's fragmentation grenades ripped through a section of seats in the theater.
"Marchyuk! Artio! We're done here! Let's go!" Nistak said as he dragged Hapgood behind the curtain to stage right.
Marchyuk threw the surgeon to the stage as he moved to stage right. He ejected his empty magazine and reloaded it with a full one. As he racked the bolt, a stray bullet struck him in the right bottom of his abdomen. He yelled in pain as he swept the theater with fire from his Bizon and swore repeatedly in his native language. Artio moved to stage right with Marchyuk as he focused his fire on the zone from which the round was fired. Kyman moved behind him as Artio left the stage, but not before pulling the pin on the White Phosphorus grenade that he kept in his webbing. He underhand tossed the grenade to the center of the stage, where the operating table, medical equipment, and disoriented and cowering surgeons still lay. He was behind the curtain as the grenade detonated, and he heard screams that could only come from a man with burning white phosphorus embedded within his skin.

The four of them dragged Hapgood to the van. Marchyuk limped to the van, blood dripping from his wound. It was an in-and-out wound, but he would still need medical attention. They clambered into the van and sped out of the alley, turning the corner of the street just in time as the police came from around the other corner. They drove the van to another alleyway about fifteen minutes away, where they switched to another van. They took one of the on-ramps to the highway, and took it out of Kensington.

There was no mistaking it. A hunt would begin, and everyone would be involved.

[Goober Kingdom]

Rall arrived at the theatre with his military convoy. He had no idea what a lobotomy was, but he figured he would soon find out. He figured it had something to do with the leader of BZ1, and a vegetable, (mainly due to the fact that in the letter, it said him and a vegetable). He pulled up to the theatre and waited with two other humvees. The rest went on back to the airfield to make sure the helicopters were okay. Then they would come back and run from the theatre to the airfield in a continuous loop. Rall was nervous about being the only one with a military convoy. Now he thought it would bring attention to himself.* He had never been to Britannia, so it was important for him to make a good impression.

OoC:*=No, he is NOT paranoid

[Goober Kingdom]

Rall sent his troops to investigate the noises that sounded like gunfire. The troops stormed the building with their GKG&A Model 12-ACR's level and began firing at the gunmen. The troops ran for cover to fire from and to wait while the rest of the convoy could arrive and help them shoot at the gunmen. Little did they know, the rest of the convoy was busy escorting the Cyrupean first family the hell out of the war zone. The blackhawk choppers would leave the airfield fighting positions and would be over the building momentarily to evacuate everyone the hell out of there.

Rall's convoy actually turned out to be a good idea after all. He would DEFINATLEY leave an impression.

[Reformed Britannia]

The driver looked back at the Commandante, and smiled.
"Absolutely, sir. Off we go!"
Moments later, the limo began trailing the Cyrupean one through the streets of Kensington. It was easy to see that Kensington was a rich town; indeed, it was where a good deal of Britannia's upper-class citizens resided. The limos passed by the Clarkson, and after a few more minutes of driving through the city's venerable streets, they came to the King James Theatre.-which was surrounded by police.

Within the theatre, the guards hadn't been at all prepared for an attack of any sort; and a few high-rpofile guests in the theatre had been killed. Outside, the police were looking everywhere they could for any sign of the attackers, while the leader of the detatchment, one Lieutenant Masterson, was yellinginto his cellphone.
"Do you have any idea what the hell's happened here? Some bloody morons have freed Hapgood!" The Lieutenant was red in the face; he had no diea who would want to free a psychotic madman like Hapgood, but the Britannians weren't about to let it go unanswered.
"There's no way in hell we can let this bastard get away. Get on the horn to MI5; and have them speak to the PM. This whole bloody country needs to be on lockdown; nothing gets out of here, do you understand, miss?"
The Lieutenant finished his conversation with the secretary on the other end, and put the cellphone back in his pocket.
Within a matter of minutes, the country would be on lockdown-nothing would be allowed out of it. Squads of the Metropolitan Police's Fast Response Unit would be combing the suburbs and countryside, armed with R2C Tactical Carbines, and MI5 would begin an official investigation and inquiry regarding the case. This wasn't being treated as a local police affair; this was a matter of national security.
Christ, this is embarassing, the Lieutenant thought to himself, resting his head in his palm.

[Cyrupe]

Christopher felt sick. First he felt hot, and then cold.A burning sensation came from his abdomen. He looked at his torso and realized he had become shot during the gunfight in what appeared to be a vital place. Attempting to stand, he collapsed onto the floor, vision fading and breathing slowing. Michell ran to the remaining Britannian guards. "Help me! Please! My husband has been shot."

His son was nearby, "You know, Mark. I always thought I'd die in a battle for my country. Not like this." Mark shook his head, "No father, you won't die. It's not your time or place." Christopher nodded slowly, obviously in pain. "Perhaps, perhaps not."

[Goober Kingdom]

The blackhawks arrived overhead and they did a trade. They reppeled soldiers onto the building and onto the ground before landing and evacuating the important people and regular citizens alike out of the place.

Captain Chassex's first squad landed and set up a roadblock rite away. Then they set up fighting positions and a check-point and everything leaving the theatre would be searched thourgohly by the Gooborian Soldiers.

Meanwhile, inside the theatre, more Gooborians and other people rushed in and took up covered fighting positions. The snipers tried to fire on the gunmen but they wee moving around to much. They were ordered to switch to secondary weapons and opened fire on the gunmen.

[Cyrupe]

[[OoC: For the record, GK's portion of the post involving evacuating the royal family from the theater is null and void. I specifically told him not to do that at all.]]

[Reformed Britannia]

A crowd had gathered around Christopher, gawking at his wound. A voice came from within the crowd, and a man dressed in Britannian military uniform pushed his way through.
"Out of the way, ladies and gents," James Roberts said. The people were shocked to see him; evidently, he'd come back from whatever special mission he'd been on. He knelt down beside Christopher, and grimaced at his wound.
"Hang in there, sir. Paramedics are on the way. We'll catch who did this, don't you worry about that. Our intelligence services are the finest in the world," he said, trying to reassure Christopher. To a soldier like Roberts, the wound looked very serious-perhaps even mortal. But he tried to keep that thought out of his mind.

[Cyrupe]

Christopher looked up at Roberts and smiled weakly. "Ah. Good old James. Couldn't have been here earlier, eh?" It was hard to tell if he was coughing or chuckling at that point. "So, how bad is it? Do they know who did it yet?" It was obvious Christopher wanted to know of these things before his unavoidable demise. If anything, it would give him a small portion of hope to know that the people who had caused this were caught and tried for their terrorist ways.

[Reformed Britannia]

Roberts furrowed his brow, and shook his head.
"No, we don't know who did it. But there was a similar attack up in the countryside not too long ago; there may or may not be a link. But we'll find them, don't you worry. And we'll hand them over to you so that you can try them under Cyrupean law." Roberts turned his head as the paramedics rushed forward and began treating the wound to the best of their ability.

Roberts decided to try and get Christopher's mind off the wound that looked like it had the potential to kill him, and began speaking in a friendly, worries-free tone.
"So, Chris, how's the wife," he asked, although there was a small hint of desperation in his voice.

[Cyrupe]

"Oh she's fine. A little shaken up from the whole deal, but then again, so am I." He laughed weakly while the paramedics continued there work. "Under Cyrupean law, eh? That's easily a life in solitary sentence. Death sentence if I end up dying here." He grinned slightly at the thought of those people spending 23 out of 24 hours a day in a small, plain concrete box that is buried under four feet of dirt, with nothing more than an air vent and a plain meal, completely in the dark whittling their lives away.

He thought to himself while the paramedics tried their best, 'It is only best that I live so that they can experience that. I must live.'

[Reformed Britannia]

James smiled at Christopher's joke, and sighed.
"I was against this from the start...John Hapgood should have spent his life in prison, not wind up being lobotomised on stage in front of the Britannian upper class," he said bitterly, clenching his fist.
"In spite of that...oh well. It's not like I could have changed what happened here today...lobotomy or not, these people were obviously going to break him out at some point." James fell silent, and looked at Christopher with remorse in his eyes.
"You're lucky to have a son, you know that? Very, very lucky...I don't have a son, or children for that matter-to my knowledge, of course-but I suspect I'll try and make amends for that soon," James said, still trying to make conversation.

[Cyrupe]

"Yeah. I am lucky. You better make amends for it, Roberts. You and your playboy ways." He knew what he had to do now. "Perhaps it would have been better for him to end up in jail. After all, I probably wouldn't have come, and as a result, I wouldn't be where I am at this moment." He paused for a moment, "Roberts, remember you still have that beach house in Cyrupe. Use it one of these days, will you? It's nice this fall. And, take care of my family when you see them, will you? At least ensure they're safe while the country is in lock down"

Christopher sharply exhaled and closed his eyes. The president of Cyrupe was dead. At least he knew that if those people would be caught, they would pay for their nonchalant actions regarding the rescue of John Hapgood. It would be quite a while until the news would reach Cyrupe, at least with the lock down.

[Reformed Britannia]

Roberts smiled and shook his head.
"Playboy ways..." he muttered, knowing it couldn't be farther from the truth. He listened as Christopher reminded him about his beach house, and asked him to take care of his family. And with that, the life slipped away from the president of Cyrupe.
Roberts stood, his head still lowered in respect and sadness. He slowly raised his head, and scanned the crowd around him. The women had their hands clasped over their mouths, and the men stood silently and respectfully.

Roberts began making his way out of the crowd, and back outside where his car awaited him. He suspected the lobotomy wouldn't be occuring for a while.

[Goober Kingdom]

The gooborians arrived back at the theatre with Rall. Rall had heard that Karluk had been shot and was rushed back to the theatre. He burst through the doors with an armed guard but quickly told them to jyst stand guard at the door or something. He walked over to see a crowd of people with their hands over their mouths and some were sobbing. He recognised the Cyrupean first family and started running over. He made his way through the crowd and saw President Karluk laying dead on the floor.
He immediatley fell to his knees. He couldn't believe Karluk was dead. Immediatley, a cold wave of shivers came over him and a tear came to his eye.
He said a prayer and looked over at Karluk's family.
"I am very sorry about your husband and your father. If there is anything I can do... please, just ask me. If you wish, I will personally kill those savages that took his life. They don't deserve a fair trial. They should be shot on sight, but not a kill shot. They should be forced to suffer and rot in Hell. They have caused a national tragedy in two nations and that will not go unpunished. If there is anything I can do, please, just ask.", Rall told the Royal family.

[Castryan]

The Commandante holstered his pistol back into the holster built into his jacket. He fired off a couple of shots during the firefight, one of which hit one of the gunmen. The doctors were all uninjured, and were currently assessing the casualties alongside the Brittanian paramedics.

He made his way over to the delegate he saw at the airport. He was dead. The Commandante took of his beret and faced downwards in respect. As of that moment he tried to find the Brittanian man who had spent his last moments with the delegate. He seemed to be one of the most respectable men here, seeing as the crowd pushed into one another to let him through.

The Commandante ran through the crowd after the man, before they could close the gap. He ran outside and saw the man heading for a car.

'Excuse me, Comrade ! Comrade !' He shouted over the police outside.