Precious Cargo (MT, Semi Open, ATTN Groko)

[Khazyan]

Rafik sat in one of many nondescript cargo planes that had taken off from Tykvelt that day, waiting until it passed over a more rural area. His eyes flicked between his watch, this small ovular window, and the door to the cockpit. How long had he been sitting there? He hadn't checked his watch when he first got on. He stood up to get a better look out the window, but before he did, he noticed the crate he was looking for in the reflection. A massive chrome padlock held the lid on, and he didn't think he could get through it with his handgun.

Beep Beep Beep

The timer on his watch sounded, and a small light flicked on and off with each beep. Showtime. He readied his Makarov, chambering the first round and turning the safety off, before calmly opening the door to the cockpit.

Khazyani Eyewitness News

It has been reported that a large cargo plane, reported to be Khazyani, actually, inexplicably fell out of the sky in northern Groko. There are no reported casualties outside of the airplane, but paramedics are yet to arrive on the scene. Now to Victor at the crash site. Victor, you're near the crash site, what do you see?

All I can see from here is smoke, Adila, but I hear something that sounds like gunfire. It could just be something combustible on the plane, but only time will tell.

Thanks Victor, more on the crash at six.

Khazyani Eyewitness News

(OOC: Please PM me before posting, except for groko, as this takes place there.)

[Groko]

It was funny how one seemingly insignificant thing can have far-reaching results. One would usually assume that something basic, like a phone call, would pale in comparison to the havoc that wreaked by a missile. Yet, it wasn’t a missile that hit the capital.

Groko, Haven City
Consul Duncan’s Office

The normally tranquil and orderly office of Consul Duncan, the co-head of the executive branch of the People’s Republic, was thrown into chaos with one simple call, from that same “insignificant” phone. Shania, the Consul’s secretary and the unfortunate woman tasked with delivering bad news to Duncan, answered the phone with a polite “Bonjour, Bureau de Consul Duncan” as usual, her fingers hovering over the dial pad.

“Department of Transportation (DOT), The DOT Minister wants to speak to the Consul?” she said, repeating the words to herself in shock.

“He’s in a meeting. Can I bring him a message?” she said hurriedly, following protocol.

She took the note in a hurry, barely comprehending what she had written. The DOT Minister had sounded rather apprehensive, and Shania knew it was an emergency. She practically sprinted from her desk in her rush to get down the hall, where the Consul was in a meeting with several senators over a new bill, leaving curiosity, apprehension, and worry in her wake.

Meanwhile, in the Meeting Room

“I’d rather we give the contract to Ada Construction,” one of the senators said, looking at his counterparts. “Ada is a dependable safe company, I’m sure they can handle the work. Besides, New Groko Construction (The state owned construction company) already has 85% of the maintenance contracts under their belts. We’ve got to give the private sector a chance.”

“No,” another senator barked across the oak meeting table that separated him from his colleague. “This capitalism crap is going to destroy the economy. We’ve been running fine on New Groko. There is no reason to change!”

“How about we…” Consul Duncan was cut off as someone knocked on the door rapidly, indicating there was a message of great importance.
“Come in,” Duncan said in his loud, booming voice. He knew it was Shania, he’d memorized her knock.

She entered the room at once, failing to mask a worrying expression on her face that immediately caught Duncan's attention.

“Sir, it’s the Minister of Transportation. He said there’s been an accident.”

And just like that, the events that would soon panic the entire nation, wreaking havoc from the smallest of homes to the largest of companies, were set in motion.

Crash Site

Loud whines filled the air as the sirens of incoming emergency vehicles competed for dominance in the once calm silence of the Udau tundra. The area was mostly, as the name suggested, a flat frigid expanse that stretched for miles in every direction.

Or it had been. Now it featured a deep scar of uprooted dirt and planes, metal fragments, and what was left of the cargo plane that smashed into the earth not less then a hour or so earlier.

Fortunately for any crash survivors, as well as the incoming vehicles, the winter snows had not settled in yet, and the hard ground provided a firm ground for the vehicle's tires.

Fire trucks, ambulances, police squad cars you name it, it was there. Even a HAZMAT team, dispatched from almost six miles away, was enroute. The loud whoop whoop of helicopter entered the fray as it circled above the crash site, using various types of scanning to look for survivors, and check for possible dangers. The local response teams were on the move.

[Khazyan]

Crash Site

Rafik picked up the thick, carbon-fiber encased cask and brought it to the door, smashed partially open by the crash. He had grabbed on to one of the nets against the walls to avoid injury during the crash, but it still shook him enough to injure his neck. Outside of the plane, a freezing, dry, Savannah-like field stretched all the way to the sea.

In order to get the cask into his ally's hands, he would need to go northeast, all the way to the port of Petriski, a task which seemed difficult enough without cops and paramedics breathing down his neck.

Vihnesvik Air Force base,
Silvan Province, Khazyan

"Remember, we're doing this as civilians, retrieving stolen property," said Bowman, leader of Mobile Task Force 14, specifically assembled to retrieve the [REDACTED]. "We can't take any assault weapons off the 'elicopter."

The helicopter lifted off, and Bowman dragged the side doors closed and fastened his seatbelt. The other Mercenaries followed, as they had so many times before.

Approaching Grokoan Airspace

The pilot descended as to avoid detection, approaching the southern shore of Groko. The six men in the helicopter looked at the smoke on the horizon unquestioningly, despite not knowing the contents of the box they were so expensively sent to retrieve.

[Empire of Symphonia]

tag in the name of the defense pact with Groko

[Groko]

Udau tundra
Crash Site

The emergency vehicles were just minutes away, bearing down on the crash site rapidly. The lead vehicle, a jet-black armored Humvee bearing Grokoan police markings, accelerated off of the dirt road they had been following, carving a path through the underbrush for the convoy to follow. Closely behind the Humvee several dump trucks arranged in a V formation further flattened the small tuffs of vegetation, effectively forging a new road directly to the crashed wreckage of the plane.

As the vehicles approached the clearing created by the plane’s abysmal impact zone, they fanned out, surrounding the area and working their way inward. The reflective yellow coating of the fire trucks presented itself to the crash site as the fire trucks took the lead.

The helicopter high above maintained its search pattern, climbing in altitude to assist its scanners. If anyone was going to make a run from the crash site, they’d have to do so fast. Within minutes, the area would be swarming with police, and no unharmed survivors were going to be able to get out of the area without severe questioning.

Petrol Coast,
Oil Rig C46

Oil Rig C46, one of the major semi-submersible drilling platforms off of the Petrol Coast, had suspended operations for the day pending a maintenance check up. Presently, a quarter of its crew was on board for security and other reasons. Four of these men, derrick hands by their job classification, were resting on an exterior catwalk, chatting in the chilly weather.

The sounds of an approaching helicopter filled the air and two of the men looked up, curiously wondering what a private helicopter, not marked with the blue and gold livery of Groko Oil, was doing so far out at sea. They made a mental note to report it to their superiors, but did nothing else.

Breaks like this were rare, they reasoned, why spend it filling out paperwork?

[Khazyan]

South-Eastern Petriski,
Hôtel Balnéaire Pélican,

The television in room 12 showed bulldozers bushing across a large expanse towards a crashed plane. By the size and shape of the plane, the two men in the room knew their ally Rafik, the man they had waited there for for four days, had arrived. One of the men pulled a suitcase out from beneath a one of the beds, opened it and revealed two .45 ACP Handguns. They loaded them and hid them away in duffel bags before going outside into a large white van and departing to the south east.

Crash Site

Raik carried the case out of the plane and began running northwest. He immediately saw a helicopter above, but disregarded it and kept sprinting towards safety, as he knew his allies would be coming to pick him up. His neck throbbed more severely than before, and he grew exhausted. He knew he couldn't stop, though. The police would have the crash site completely encircled soon enough. All of the guns they find on the plane that the Khazyanies were shipping west would keep them busy, though.

Northbound from Khazyan,
Currently over Southern Groko

The five of the mercenaries grew restless, but not Bowman. This was too simple an objective, and the pay was to good to deny. He had to wonder, though, what was in the cask he had been sent to retrieve? A bomb? Gold? Whatever it was, the Khazyani government was in no hurry to let go of it. Chances are, it is just full of documents or blueprints. A final hard-copy of something really important. It didn't matter, as long as it was light enough to carry.

[Groko]

Udau tundra
Crash Site

Without further delay, the fleet of emergency vehicles arrived. Police and ambulance vehicles filled the air with their flashing lights as they rushed over to the wreckage. The helicopter's scans had come up clean of hazardous material, although it had detected what appeared to be a large amount of freight and cargo boxes.

The medics, unaware that they had missed the only survivor, were at first puzzled. Then they considered a startling proposition, the bodies could have been obliterated on impact, scattering the remains for miles. Still, they continued to comb the wreckage with the aid of their police counterparts, hoping to find someone alive in the wreck.

The helicopter, which had been focusing its sensory equipment on the plane's wreckage, missed the escaping survivor as well. Regardless, the survivor wasn't out of danger yet. The entire area was in the process of being sectioned off, and all roads leading to the crash site were being closed. If anyone was going to come to the poor man's aid, they'd be forced to take the unconventionally way to the crash site and risk early notice by the helicopter.

There was a startled cry from one of the medics he moved aside a massive sheet of metal with the help of his counterparts. A random assortment of rifles, ammo, and more was clearly present, sitting in the remains of a smashed crate. Several of the police officer's raised eyebrows. It was illegal to ship weapons across Grokoan territory, they all knew that. Whoever owned this plane was going to be in a heap of trouble.