Mass public executions in Trotskytopia [MT, Open]

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Thu Aug 23, 2012 8:59 am

The soldiers stared at Viktor, slowly standing up with a shaky nod. One of them stepped forward with a nervous salute, holding back sobs as tears swelled in his eyes. He muttered a quick "Y-yes s-s-s-sir..." They seemed greener even than the investigators guard as they slowly began to organise themselves, the man who had stepped forward issuing shaky commands to his soldiers in arms. Two of them lifted up the body of their CO and carried him to the medical tent so the tags could be sent back to his family, assuming he had any.

By this point Leo and the Soldier he had head butted were straight out fist-fighting around a circle of shouting, cheering and betting soldiers. Many of the Personal Guard had abandoned their posts to watch the spectacle which it seemed, was not that uncommon. Within the investigators view, even those apparently in high command were chuckling with their soldiers making bets.

OOC

The fight didn't last very long and Leo came out with a swollen cheek. The other soldier, however, remained on the floor, holding a heavily bleeding and broken nose. With some slight panting, Leo spoke to Viktor.
"Our traditions have not changed. It reminds one of the tales of Sparta. If you get a problem with someone in your regiment, you deal with it like that. No deaths, no snideness and no leaving them behind. You take it out there and then so there's no bad blood left over then you continue with your mission." Leo grinned, looking up to Brock. "I believe that's how we met, wasn't it Sanders? Have you seen everything you need to, Viktor?"

by **Virana** » Thu Aug 23, 2012 2:39 pm

OOC

Lenin International Airport — Trotskytopia
0805 hours Eastern Virana time; August 21, 2012

The pilot knew this wasn't a normal commercial landing, and he also knew that it might garner the attention of the air traffic controllers, but he did it as his duty anyways. Rather than reducing his altitude during the final approach, he maintained it until the aircraft was directly above the airport as the landing gear locked into place. He then made the jet roll sharply to the left and begin a rapid spiral downwards; seconds later, he sharply leveled the jet as its landing gear made a soft "thud" upon contact with the runway. The spiral landing—a technique used to avoid anti-aircraft RPG fire against low-flying planes—worked to perfection.

He pushed the intercom button. "Good news everyone, you've just landed without getting shot. Welcome to Lenin International Airport, Trotskytopia. We sincerely hope you've enjoyed the ride because up here in the flight deck it was a pile of crap. I suggest you all wait and when I turn the seatbelt sign off you better take some good notes on this country. Don't kill yourself!"

The spiral landing had taken Goins by surprise, but he still wasn't phased. The pilot—a twelve-year veteran of the United Republic Air Force—knew exactly what he was doing, and Goins trusted that. As the plane pulled into its designated parking area on the airstrip, he looked out the window and saw a Trotskytopian vehicle pull up to the side next to the mobile stairwell—undoubtedly holding Leo Transinsky himself.

Scott got up out of his seat as the four bodyguards quickly made their way towards the door of the plane, followed by the rest of the observation group. The flight crew awaited clearance as the stairs were brought up right against the door, and then promptly opened it. The security detail exited first, followed by the observers. As they stepped out, Scott looked to his right and saw Leo's personal guard lift up their rifles in a salute to the delegates.

Leo walked up to him as he reached the bottom and shook hands, announcing his status as well as a welcome.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Transinsky, I am Scott Goins and I will be heading this Viranian delegacy," he declared, shaking hands. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Leo. "Here is a list of the participants of this mission, as well as some areas of interest we'd like to see. I hope you are very willing to take us where we desire," he added. Throughout this conversation, he couldn't help but notice the large scar on Leo's face reaching from his cheek and over his lips to his chin.

One of the body guards, Joseph Veloz, watched the entire situation very closely. His wraparound Oakley Radar sunglasses kept anyone from noticing the fact that he was looking sharply at everything—every person, every guard. He had already examined Leo—including that large scar, possibly indicating some type of combat experience—and was mentally noting everything about the guards; they were holding AK rifles—they could be AKM or AK-74, he couldn't quite tell—but they were definitely Kalashnikovs. He observed their faces which seemed to be expressionless and disciplined, and that didn't surprise him. Him and the rest of the personal security detail weren't traditional body guards, they were what the government called "Tier-1 close protection assets"; that was a fancy way of saying that they were body guards selected from the highest tier of the United Republic Special Operations Command specifically for this mission. In fact, even the president rarely received this level of protection. Of course, no one was supposed to know he was a special operator with years of combat experience in the harshest conditions possible—everyone, including the Viranian observers themselves, thought him and the other body guards were completely fresh and green. The hideous, ignorant lie almost made him grin, but the years of disciplinary training had taught him to think twice before smiling to himself.

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Thu Aug 23, 2012 4:18 pm

OOC - I'll post IC tommorow, but for now what have I done to make it seem like I havn't understood the time-dancing?

I was aware.

by **Lord Scharrer** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 12:24 am

Vice Admiral Kregan tucked his hands in the small of his back. He was flown into the Trostskytopian capital earlier this morning, and he collected his thoughts, as the hours caught up with him. The red-eye flight had been necessary, as this county was in a state of chaos, and he didn't like the thought of a RPG taking the plane out from under him, nor a sniper staining his brains on his uniform. He was in one of the formal rooms left from the previous, corrupt, regime. He began his proposal;

"The First Canadian Imperium would like to extend it's thanks to the glorious Peoples Republic of Trotskytopia. As a token of good will, we can provide modern weapons at cost. Additionally, we have a further proposal that may require...more integration." The vice admiral paused for a moment.

"We have a carrier battle group two weeks away. We can put 50 000 boots on the ground. These considerable forces would be put in place to protect your oil fields and resource production, as well as protecting your trade economy. One can imagine that piracy can become quite the problem for an island nation at civil war. Portions of this force would also go towards humanitarian and rebuilding effort, though the majority will be in defense of after mentioned production facilities. In exchange for this offer, all we ask in return is exclusive rights to your resource markets and to allow Imperial Canadian corporations to develop them. Of course, this exclusivity would only last during the period that we assisted your government, while it puts this insurrection down. Lastly, our Psychological Operations will begin a disinformation campaign, putting your enemies in a poor light, and returning the peoples good will to your government."
Proposal finished, Kregan awaited the Trotskytopian response. He mulled over this change in his government. After decades of isolationist polices, the Emperor himself took interest in this matter. But, his was not to question, and the world was becoming a more dangerous place by the day. Having friends could come in handy.

by **Phonencia** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 1:43 am

Trotskytopia wrote:The soldiers stared at Viktor, slowly standing up with a shaky nod. One of them stepped forward with a nervous salute, holding back sobs as tears swelled in his eyes. He muttered a quick "Y-yes s-s-s-sir..." They seemed greener even than the investigators guard as they slowly began to organise themselves, the man who had stepped forward issuing shaky commands to his soldiers in arms. Two of them lifted up the body of their CO and carried him to the medical tent so the tags could be sent back to his family, assuming he had any.

By this point Leo and the Soldier he had head butted were straight out fist-fighting around a circle of shouting, cheering and betting soldiers. Many of the Personal Guard had abandoned their posts to watch the spectacle which it seemed, was not that uncommon. Within the investigators view, even those apparently in high command were chuckling with their soldiers making bets.

OOC
There'd be enough time for you and Brock to have any interaction you think is necessary.

The fight didn't last very long and Leo came out with a swollen cheek. The other soldier, however, remained on the floor, holding a heavily bleeding and broken nose. With some slight panting, Leo spoke to Viktor.
"Our traditions have not changed. It reminds one of the tales of Sparta. If you get a problem with someone in your regiment, you deal with it like that. No deaths, no snideness and no leaving them behind. You take it out there and then so there's no bad blood left over then you continue with your mission." Leo grinned, looking up to Brock. "I believe that's how we met, wasn't it Sanders? Have you seen everything you need to, Viktor?"

Glancing around for witnesses, Brock drifted over to Viktor, pretending to watch the fight as he whispered,
"Leo can't be trusted. If you want to know more, I suggest you ride shotgun with me on our way out."
he then drifted through the crowd, distancing himself from Viktor as he watched the fight...

Brock smirked,
"Yep, as I recall we whooped each others' asses. Of course I suppose you count as the winner, what with the whole "Leader of the Revolution" thing you've got going for you."
he replied with a chuckle.

Kirov groaned, wrapping an improvised bandage (the sleeve of his BDU shirt) tight around his leg wound.
That counter-sniper had been surprisingly skilled and he would've respected him more had the injury not hurt so much. He shambled back through the woods for quite a while until eventually meeting some fellow rebels who helped him back to camp. The Coalition would be pleased to recieve any information, even if it was as (relatively) unimportant as that Brock had collected recently.
Leo Transinsky's regime reaked of subterfuge and ICE's high command was determined to spray it with a hefty dose of fabreeze...

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 8:01 am

Leo nodded, showing Goins and his associates to the two trucks with Leo and the investigators in the first and the guards in the second, just like last time. As they clambered aboard, Leo's phone went off with a buzz and he held up a finger of silence to Goins and his associates as he listened to his ministers who were in a meeting, having connected Leo via loudspeaker phone.

"Sir" Mark Renyola, said quickly with a brief cough, "We have received another communique from the Canadian Imperium."
Leo shuffled his feet with a sniff, "And?" he asked curtly.
Reynola licked his lips, hesitating for a moment as he spoke. "And...they can offer us arms and propaganda...at a cost. Not unreasonable but...they can also provide fifty-thousand troops to-"
"Well that's brilliant!" Leo interrupted, "Say yes, make the arrangements!."
Mark waited a few seconds to make sure Leo had finished before continuing. "But, sir...in return they wish for their Corporations to have exclusive access to the untapped oil supplies of the South Sea Region."

Leo stared blankly ahead, his jaw dropping in slight shock. Slowly he began to speak quite deliberately, anger bristling under his voice.
"You can tell the Canadian Imperium that we have only just released our necks from the boot of capitalism. We will NOT hand over our supplies to their damned corporations! They will be nationalised, as will all goods. We will, however, agree to a very beneficial trading deal with them if they're still willing to assist us."
Leo was quite aware the investigators could overhear his side of the conversation. Indeed, he made a point to display it so as to show that Trotskytopia would not roll over for capitalists, but at the same time that it was willing to find a compromise. He also felt it necessary to express that Trotskytopia clearly had aid from outside nations, whether or not the Imperium would follow through, it would make any spy think twice before acting.
"You know what to do." He hung up with a sigh, shrugging to the investigators slightly.

To: The Canadian Imperium
From: The Trotskytopian Foreign Affairs Office

Your offer of supplies, weapons and ammunition is very welcome and we are open to discussing the necessary cost. However, your final proposal causes major concerns. It seems you fail to realise the nature of our government and revolution is Socialist. We will not allow corporations, domestic or foreign, to have rights or access to Trotskytopian land, sea or resources. We will, however, be willing to arrange a very beneficial trade deal once we have the Oil being refined and processed, in exchange for deploying your troops. Our numbers vary between each region, but we fight a guerilla war. Your forces would do well to place themselves as the vanguard of our advance into the Yand mountains if you are still willing to assist.

The economic deal we had in mind would take place after the ceasing of hostilities within Trotskytopia and would include oil supplies to your nation at a cost that would only make marginal profit on our end, thus providing you with cheap, secure oil supplies. We are well aware our nations political ideologies are near polar opposite, however due to the fact our initial plans of a revolution failed which would have made us self-dependant, we recognise the need for compromise.

Also, once the hostilities have ended, yours would be the first nation to be allowed to construct an embassy on Trotskytopian land. A privilege and an historical undertaking that I'm sure you recognise.

Two devils make for a God.

- Mark Renyola, Minister for Foreign Affairs.

Leo grinned at Brock's comment, rubbing his swollen cheek with a wince.
"Right" he announced quickly, "You've seen the battlefield, you've seen the barracks and you've seen the war. Anywhere else we can show you specifically? If not, I suppose the last people you should meet should be the ministers!"
As he finished, a beeping sound went off in Leo's pocket. He quickly unzipped it, removing a satellite phone upon which a text message was brightly displayed, visible only to Leo.

It read, "Update on the Nuclear Situation. You'll want to see this."

by **Virana** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 3:10 pm

Trotskytopia wrote:Leo nodded, showing Goins and his associates to the two trucks with Leo and the investigators in the first and the guards in the second, just like last time. As they clambered aboard, Leo's phone went off with a buzz and he held up a finger of silence to Goins and his associates as he listened to his ministers who were in a meeting, having connected Leo via loudspeaker phone.

"Sir" Mark Renyola, said quickly with a brief cough, "We have received another communique from the Canadian Imperium."
Leo shuffled his feet with a sniff, "And?" he asked curtly.
Reynola licked his lips, hesitating for a moment as he spoke. "And...they can offer us arms and propaganda...at a cost. Not unreasonable but...they can also provide fifty-thousand troops to-"
"Well that's brilliant!" Leo interrupted, "Say yes, make the arrangements!."
Mark waited a few seconds to make sure Leo had finished before continuing. "But, sir...in return they wish for their Corporations to have exclusive access to the untapped oil supplies of the South Sea Region."

Leo stared blankly ahead, his jaw dropping in slight shock. Slowly he began to speak quite deliberately, anger bristling under his voice.
"You can tell the Canadian Imperium that we have only just released our necks from the boot of capitalism. We will NOT hand over our supplies to their damned corporations! They will be nationalised, as will all goods. We will, however, agree to a very beneficial trading deal with them if they're still willing to assist us."
Leo was quite aware the investigators could overhear his side of the conversation. Indeed, he made a point to display it so as to show that Trotskytopia would not roll over for capitalists, but at the same time that it was willing to find a compromise. He also felt it necessary to express that Trotskytopia clearly had aid from outside nations, whether or not the Imperium would follow through, it would make any spy think twice before acting.
"You know what to do." He hung up with a sigh, shrugging to the investigators slightly.

Lenin International Airport — Trotskytopia
0810 hours Eastern Virana time; August 21, 2012

Goins waited through the phone call as he watched two of his security detail make their way to the black SUVs that had just been unloaded from the Boeing 787. He was sure Leo knew the SUVs would be following them on their journey.

As Leo hung up and shrugged, Goins said, "Government affairs," with a nod in an "I-know-what-you're-going-through" tone.

Completely disregarding what Goins had said, another investigator, Leala Vallée (who was holding a touchscreen tablet with a stylus), asked, "So first on our agenda is the military base. Mr. Transinsky, are there any military facilities near the warzone which we can go to?" Her commanding, womanly voice seemed to perfectly assimilate with her young, athletic figure and strikingly long, flowing brown-blonde hair that augmented her distinctly French appearance and heritage, starkly contrasting with her generic American accent.

As they talked, Joseph Veloz—in the truck behind them—was looking around at their surroundings. To their left a large white aircraft—commercial passenger airliner—was landing on a long strip of black-gray runway. To the other side in the distance was a building with several planes parked at various intervals, with airtight tunnels (the gates) connecting the doors of the planes to the rest of the airport. Although he wasn't in the same vehicle as Goins and the rest of the observers, Veloz and the other guards were listening to the whole conversation through their concealed earpieces, the conversation being recorded wirelessly onto data drives in the SUVs through a small microphone on each of the observers' clothes. He glanced backwards and confirmed that the Viranian SUVs were following the guard vehicle, before turning back around.

Veloz looked up at one of the Trotskytopian guards in the vehicle. "Excuse me," he said, addressing one of them. "What's your name?"

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 5:43 pm

Leo nodded, sighing slightly. They were always after bases.
"We'll head to Novakeen, it the largest and most secure military barracks we have near the front line that isn't effectively a camp made of rubble." he said swiftly, thumping the truck;s cab and calling out the destination. He shot a glance to Leala, attempting and failing to be subtle in eyeing her. Soldiers were not, after all, the most eloquent of romancers. He cocked a smile, pursing his lips as he realised he'd been caught, the fair-haired woman raising an unimpressed brow as he looked away slightly embarrassed.

The soldier in the truck behind shot a glance back to Veloz with a rather blank expression, glancing around as if looking for confirmation for what he was supposed to say from his comrades. When they all seemed disinterested he sighed, turning back to the foreigner and answering him.
"David Glukhov, and-er..you?"

by **Virana** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 6:57 pm

Leala noticed Leo's gesture but treated it with a compassionate rejection, giggling uninterestedly as he looked away shyly, before returning to business.

"So are the men at Novakeen currently involved in fighting the rebels?" she said, breaking an awkward silence, reading off her tablet. "And does the base have any rebel defectors? An interview with one is one of our goals."

In the truck behind them, Veloz stuck his hand out to shake as he replied to Glukhov, "I'm Joseph Veloz, nice to meet you. I'm just asking—and this may seem a little abrupt—but have you sided with the rebels for the entire civil war?" He then added reassuringly, "I'm just asking as a fellow soldier since it's something that interests me." Although his wide eyes were still hidden by sunglasses, a subtle wrinkle between the eyebrows and unmoving, tightly pressed lips confirmed a completely serious, matter-of-fact attitude.

Driving behind the rear truck in the SUV, two intelligence operators supporting the diplomats were furiously typing on their laptops as a third one set the GPS to Novakeen through its voice control feature while driving.

"We've got an ICE satellite being repurposed for us—good thing we've got friends at high levels, eh?" said one sitting in the back, smiling. "Here, it's on the big screen," he continued as a satellite image of Trotskytopia appeared on the vehicle's main screen and flip-down DVD player, as well as on a separate window in both laptops inside the vehicle. "Tracking major Trotsky and Yandian garris—holy shit."

"That's a lot of rebels near Novakeen," said another operator. "Any way we could get a drone in there? You know, just for observation, staying one step ahead—looks like a hornet's nest."

"Nah, I can try but I doubt shit'll work. Drones have a long-ass way to haul before they can reach that shithole, even from Acaema. They have to go from the North Pacific all the way to LA, and that's a good few hundred thousand miles," replied the first operator. "Oh and we're supposed to stay neutral, and I think sending a damn stealth drone here to watch the Yandians would be too militaristic an approach."

"So what if the damn rebels realize it's fucking Leo Transinsky right in front of us? That's one easy-ass assassination if they get a decent sniper on him. Or some kind of ambush, IEDs, you know the drill with insurgents. And those put our guys at high risk too, riding with the guy."

"We aren't exactly announcing to them that Transinsky is riding shotgun in the damn truck, are we? A drone would make it more obvious, dumbass. The best place to hide is in plain sight, didn't you learn that shit in like fourth grade?"

"But when two Army trucks are being followed by two huge black SUVs with a tint so fucking dark it looks like nighttime all the time from the inside, it's not hard to tell that there's some high-speed stuff going on. Especially when the SUVs each have giant-ass antennae on the back. An untouchable stealth drone is a deterrent to motherfuckers who think they can do shit."

"Whatever man, I'll try and get your damn drone in. But no guarantees."

by **Dentora** » Fri Aug 24, 2012 7:04 pm

To whom it may concern,

The Undead Empire of Dentora sends its congratulations to your successful revolution, and wishes you all luck in crushing the remnants of the previous, corrupt regime! As a gesture of goodwill, the Empire would like to offer military assistance to aid in the removal of these violent warmongers, if you would desire it. As well, we wish to send diplomats to your country to negotiate trade relations and a possible alliance between our people, in order to strengthen both our nations.

By the King's will,
Lord Jeremiah Bane, appointed Overseer of Diplomatic Relations

by **United Nations Alliance (Ancient)** » Sat Aug 25, 2012 3:08 am

Viktor nodded to Leo. "Yes, we shall go from here now...if my companions agree then we shall head back to the capital, and depending how gracious a host you are, we may stay in a hotel or somehwere in the city, or get back on our jet and head home" he said. Dominique and Amirah nodded at the suggestion to head back to the capital city. "I'm sure Leo will be a good host and allow us to stay in a nice place in the capital" Amirah said.

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Sat Aug 25, 2012 4:16 am

Leo nodded in reply to Leala, coughing slightly before taking the opportunity to explain the situation.
"It's pretty much in the heartland of it all. It's our public vanguard base, and yes it has a good mix of original rebels and defectors from the Yandian military. You'll get your interview."

Meanwhile in the next truck over, David chuckled a little at he replied to Veloz.
"Well-ah, yes we all did. We're Transinsky's personal guard, some of the original rebel soldiers and some who have proven themselves exceptionally. I'm a part of the former." He eyed the strange man, glancing briefly to the somewhat unsubtle SUV's lining the road behind them like roaring panthers. They were going to draw a lot of attention, but he was unsure where they were headed, so it might not matter.

Just as he was thinking that, a slight hiss sliced through the air and David furrowed his brow, looking around in confusion to see what it was. When he turned, he saw one of his comrades with a bullet through his skull. It dawned on him.
"GET DOWN!" he bellowed as an explosion rocked up ahead of the truck.

Leo was flung from the back of the truck with force as the IED ripped apart the right wheels and sent it reeling over. He spun and rolled down the badly damaged road, coming to a stop on the left side in a small crater at the side of the road. He coughed manically, holding his left arm with a wince, feeling as though he sprained his wrist but he couldn't be sure. Gunfire tore through the air as the soldiers from the truck behind poured out and began returning fire on against the hill to the right where a number of, what he could only assume were Yandian, ambushers had been laying in wait. Leo crawled up with a grunt, lifting his head over the rim of the crater to eye the scene. A few bodies lay spread around, some from the explosion and one or two from bullet wounds. He could see the truck he had been in laying on it's side, it appeared as if no one had come out yet. With a grunt, Leo tugged his revolver from it's place at his side and sprinted forward with all his might to the underbelly of the truck, pressing his back against it. No shots came his way, so he assumed he had remained unseen in the hellish fire storm going on around him. As he inched toward the back of the truck, Leo saw the men in the black SUV's hop out and begin to return fire, but he couldn't make out entirely what they were doing.

Leo swept his hand around into the back of the truck, blindly grabbing at anyone he could. When finally he felt a wrist or an arm, he gripped it with all his might and hauled whoever he held out and into the safety of cover with him.

Meanwhile back in the ministerial offices, Mark Reynola received an interesting letter from a nation he had only read about as one that tended to reject technology. He chuckled, unsure how exactly they could aid in such a war, but replied swiftly regardless.

To: Lord Jeremiah Bane
From: Mark Renyola, minister for Trotskytopian Foreign Affairs

Any aid you feel your Lordship can give would be very welcome and we look forward to establishing strong diplomatic and economic ties. If possible, we would be happy to host a diplomat from your nation in the following week to discuss all of the above.

A few weeks ago, during the UNA investigation....

Leo chuckled, nodding a few times to the investigators.
"Only the best for our guests!" he announced with a grin.

Getting to the capital took an hour and a half, but the journey was without incident. The sun had set over the horizon and the trucks noisily pulled into a parking bay outside a rather large hotel. Above the grand doorways read the name "Mamoutzu Hotel" with relatively few bullet holes in the architecture compared to many nearby buildings. It seemed to have been spared large-scale destruction either by design or luck.
Here is where you will be saying," Leo said as he stood in the truck cab, "Two of my soldiers will remain with you at all times, they are waiting for you inside the entrance. Enjoy your stay, we will be continuing with meeting the ministers tomorrow at 10 am." With that, Leo helped the investigators and their guard from the trucks, giving them a formal salute before the trucks drove away toward the Ministerial Offices.

by **Virana** » Sat Aug 25, 2012 11:23 am

Several minutes ago

Lucas Zuyev was now to be known as Robert Bodrov, and he was getting just starting to get used to the new name as it had been months in Trotskytopia. Bodrov had led numerous ambushes against the Trotskytopians and had escaped every time—he was already pretty high on their most wanted list.

His cell phone rang, and he saw it was one of his subordinates, Yefremov. "What is it Yefremov?" he said in Russian (OOC: That's Trotskytopia's main language, right?).

"I'm seeing Trotsky army trucks. They left the airport and are heading towards Novakeen, and I saw them being followed by two black SUVs. Volodin saw them too, a few kilometers down. Should we go in?"

"Do we have a device on the path to Novakeen?"

"Yes."

"Then do it. Quickly."

Present time

The truck was flipped over and was now a bullet magnet. Rounds were flying in and ricocheting off all the walls constantly. Leala felt a sudden sharp jolt of pain in her left hip. She looked down and saw blood gushing out of the bullet wound as her heart was beating faster than she had ever remembered.

She was the only one left in the rear of the truck—everyone else had been launched out. As bullets flew in she was lying on her back, a tear starting to form at the corner of her eye as she looked around in horror for help. In the middle of the chaos she saw a hand reach into the truck—a beacon of hope—and weakly reached for it, taking hold and putting all of her remaining energy into holding on. The arm pulled her out of the truck and she saw it was Leo, bringing her into the cover of the truck; a reassuring sight as she fell to the ground barely conscious.

Veloz's instincts made him grab his teammate David Martin and dive out of the truck, jumping into a ditch on the side of the road. He could hear bullets whiz by his head as he attempted to go through the OODA loop.

Observe - gunmen on that hill firing at us, we're trying to return fire. Orient - face them, laying in ditch. Decide - we need to fire back and gain superiority, airstrike would be nice. Act - pull out FMG, unfold, and fire.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small metal box. He held the handle, jerked it down, and watched as it unfolded into a 9 mm sub machine gun and he was holding its carrying handle. Veloz then grabbed the pistol grip, aimed, and returned fire.

"Fuck, there's too many of them!" he yelled. It didn't help, but keeping communication with his teammates during a firefight was vital—something he had learned during the thousands of such firefights he'd taken part in before. That experience kept him cool and collected as he pondered the next move. "RPG on the left, fire incoming from this hill, we've got what looks like thirty-plus gunmen!"

To his left the SUVs had stopped. Out of the rear SUV came two guards—Nicklas Clausen and Joel Benson—wearing short-sleeve combat shirts, cargo pants, and full-blown armor vests. Clausen was holding a 6.5 mm M18 ACW, and Benson a 7.62 mm SCAR-H. They took cover behind the bulletproof SUVs, yelling to each other. Being special operators, they knew exactly how to overcome the fire superiority, something they'd learned back when they were being taught the art of asymmetric warfare during SEAL training.

From the front SUV two intelligence officials stepped out, holding their FMG-9 machine guns. "Told you we needed that fucking drone!" one of them yelled.

"How in the world do you expect a drone to magically appear in thirty fucking seconds?!" the other screamed back. "Get an airstrike on their ass!"

The official, who was taking cover behind his SUV, turned towards Veloz in his makeshift foxhole. "Hey Veloz, radio command and see if we can get an airstrike! And get those fucking diplomats off the road!"

Veloz acknowledged, looking around. He saw to his right Leala's body with blood coming out of her side, but she was safe in cover behind the overturned truck next to Leo. The other two—Scott Goins and Richard Marez—were on the ground behind the truck, seemingly unconscious.

"Martin, get them to safety! Drag 'em back, those intel guys'll cover you," he said to Martin next to him. Martin got up and sprinted to Marez, the closest one, and was dragging him back. The intelligence officials were firing their entire arsenal, having the SUV's driver pass them extra magazines from inside—although the 9 mm rounds could barely hit at that range. Veloz pushed his PTT button and got on radio. "Command, this is Archer 4, we're in need of support NOW! We're pinned, I've got three packages down, one package has a gunshot wound to the hip, the others unclear and possibly dead, and we are running low on ammo. We're returning fire at thirty plus Yandy footmobiles at some 150 meters. Requesting air support!"

He fired off several more shots, hitting one of the rebels directly in the head. As his companions were temporarily distracted by the fall of one of their comrades, he fired a couple more rounds and dropped another. They probably weren't dead; 9 mm rounds didn't kill very much at that range, but they were down and injured badly. He turned towards one of the Trotskytopian soldiers who had taken cover behind his truck. "Hey you! Radio your command, get some reinforcements from Novakeen! Tell them to bring some medics too!"

A few seconds later, he received a radio transmission. "Archer 4, this is URS Caprica of the UR 3rd Fleet. CAG says we're deploying the fighters that were on CAP to support you. ETA ten minutes. Caprica out."

The immense relief overtook Veloz as he looked around. Martin had dragged both Goins and Marez to safety, but had been hit in the ankle by a bullet. He limped back into the ditch and began to nurse his wound. From the left, the other two guards had picked up two 6.5 mm M18 ACWs from the SUV and tossed them to Veloz, giving him immensely increased range and firepower, giving him the ability to kill at range. He handed one to Martin and then aimed his weapon. The magnifier was flipped in front of the holographic sight, allowing him to see the rebels clearly at that distance. Like any professional soldier using an assault rifle, he had it on semi-automatic and he fired controlled, aimed shots. His double-tap worked to perfection as both shots hit a rebel directly in the chest, knocking him down and likely out of the fight. Veloz fired several more shots, scoring hits on most, but there were still too many of them.

URS Caprica — Carrier Strike Group 4 — International Waters — Near Trotskytopia

The F-36C pilot of the lead aircraft knew his job. They'd already been in the air, an average combat air patrol around the carrier group to ensure safety, but they weren't expecting combat. Now they were to barge into Trotskytopia without knocking, drop a bomb, and get the hell out.

"Skyhawk 2-4, this is Skyhawk 2-2. Adjust heading to 2-0-1, Angels 2," he said into radio to his wingman. He then paused, pushing a button that said MASTER ARM. A green LED appeared next to it. "Master arm on, master arm on. Good light."

Him and his wingman uniformly turned towards their location, receiving the desired coordinates for the airstrike. They were to use small-diameter bombs to minimize collateral damage, and they were to fire them from long range and get out before they were detected by Trotskytopian forces. Luckily their jets were stealth—unlike those other squadrons flying F/A-18E/F Super Hornets—so it would be difficult to pick them up on any sort of sensors.

And they were also lucky that the task force had not reduced its alert level even when the UR had officially said so.

[OOC: TLDR: Firefight's heated up (at 150 m), Leala's injured, Veloz requested Trotsky reinforcements, airstrike incoming]

by **Phonencia** » Sat Aug 25, 2012 4:48 pm

[sorry, been busy]

Brock sprinted over to Leo by the flipped truck and slid to a halt, bringing up his AK-74 and firing off a long hard burst at the source of the sniper fire.
"Shit she's been shot!"
he exclaimed, looking down at Leala.
"Don't worry ma'am, you're gonna' be fine."
he assured, ripping his small medical kit off the back of his body armor's webbing.
He pulled the zippers open and withdrew a field dressing and some other appropriate medical supplies.
"Try to keep their heads down sir!"
he suggested, handing his Kalashnikov to Leo while he began working on Leala's wound.
"Sorry about this ma'am,"
he apologized, tearing the fabric covering her hip open and exposing her hip.
"This might hurt,"
he warned, going to work on the wound.

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 7:57 am

Leo tucked his revolver away as he took a hold of Brock's AK, twisting it's barrel around the end of the truck and taking some shots into the the bushes. He ducked back into cover as return fire tore up the gravel in front of him.
"Fuck!" he bellowed as he reloaded, taking a clip from Brock's belt as he worked on Leala. This repeat of popping out, firing and ducking back repeated itself for a few minutes while a few metres away, a member of the guard nodded to one of the Viranian guards and pulled out a clearly outdated radio set, screaming into it.

"This is Revolutionary Convoy to Project! Come in project!"
A slight hiss remained before a reply was hear.
"Come in Convoy, this is Project."
"We need reinforcements! We've been ambushed one click from the base! Medical assistance is needed! We have diplomatic envoys, consider this priority zero!"
Another hiss before a shaky reply came in.
"Z-zero...you mean? *Some background yelling of orders* Allright, they're on their way! Expect an armoured battalion in 5 minutes!"
The soldier looked up to the Viranian guard, repeating the information to him.

As Leo hugged the truck again, the sound of fighting suddenly went quiet. He furrowed his brow, time seeming to slow around him as he gazed about toward the wounded and the soldiers still fighting. The air appeared to be being sucked up to where the Yandians were before wind and noise whooshed back, blowing Leo against the road as time returned to normal.
With some frantic coughing he scrabbled to his feet, expecting to be shot as he raised the sights to his eye, only to see the entire hill aflame and cratered.
He dropped the gun down to his side as he stared ahead, dazed. The Trotskytopian army didn't have an airforce...even the Yandians had never been able to afford them...so what on earth had cause-
"Leo!" one of the guard shouted, jogging Leo out of his stupor. He turned to face the guard, drawing out a raggedy breath.
"See to the wounded, medics are en route." he said quickly, turning back to Laela who was clearly in pain, but conscious.
"They just attacked a diplomatic convoy. Still sure it's us you ought to be investigating?" he said with a frown before turning back and checking over the wounded to see who was dead or just unconscious.

by **Virana** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 9:51 am

Leala, barely conscious, moaned softly as Brock worked on healing her wound.

Martin had gotten the diplomats off the road, but they were both unconscious and he himself had gotten shot in the ankle. He quickly wrapped up the wound—the bullet had torn right through rather than getting stuck inside—and began to work on Marez, setting the M18 ACW to the side.

Meanwhile, Veloz saw some of the Trotskytopian guards firing long bursts into the distance. He yelled, "Hey! Single fire or it's a waste of ammo!" He then leveled his rifle again and fired a double-tap. The rebel he was firing at, after both impacts, was still alive—so he fired a third shot, hitting directly in the head, killing him.

A rocket flew from the distance, blowing a crater in the road right in front of him. He winced as chunks of concrete flew everywhere, trying to shield his head. As it settled, he realized who had shot it. "RPG on the right! I'll take him!" He fired five shots towards the RPG before running out of ammunition, then proceeded to reload using a spare mag that one of the other Viranians had tossed to him.

As bullets flew around him and ricocheted off the road, Veloz retreated into his ditch, pressing his back to it. "Martin, what's their status?"

"Marez is fine, I got him stable, just some minor wounds. But Goins has some severe wounds, one to the head, possible concussion. I'm working CPR on him, his heart's not working."

"Fuck!" Veloz yelled. He got up and sprinted behind the nearest SUV. He collapsed his legs sideways and got into the urban prone position, laying on his side with only his head and weapon protruding from the side of the SUV. After firing a few shots, a bullet ricocheted off the road and lodged itself into his arm. This prompted him to pull back behind the SUV, grunting with blood spurting from his bicep.

"Holy shit Veloz!" yelled one of the intelligence agents that was taking cover behind the SUV, now holding a Kriss Super V sub machine gun. "I got you!" He opened the door of the SUV and pulled a small medical pack from the door and went to work on Veloz.

"Archer 4, this is Skyhawk 2-2, we are in range and dropping the load. Be advised, danger close, danger close," came a voice on radio.

"Shit!" Veloz yelled. He ignored the agent attempting to extract the bullet and yelled "Everyone, airstrike incoming! Danger close! Danger close!" It didn't seem like too many people heard him in the confusion of the situation as the sound of weapons firing overwhelmed his warnings. He ran back to his ditch, the intelligence agent following, and laid down against the wall of the ditch facing the road. He heard exactly what he was expecting; a massive explosion, anonymous screams as the enemies were engulfed by flames, and the subsequent fallout of debris—flying pieces of white-hot metal and glass expelled in every direction at speeds that could kill, as well as the feeling of air being sucked completely out of the atmosphere and the heat wave that followed. He'd seen and experienced this sight too many times before.

As it all settled, he peaked up from his cover and saw the bright flames, now having spread across the hill. He could make out silhouettes of people in the middle of the flames, being suffocated and burned alive as their screams and tears were overwhelmed and literally evaporated by the fiercely crackling fire as they fell to their deaths, never to see the light of day again.

"Welcome to Hell," he bitterly muttered aloud.

In the Air — Trotskytopia
Two Minutes Ago

It was eerily silent inside the fighter jet as the pilots Paul Mejia (Skyhawk 2-2) and Jason Boyd (Skyhawk 2-4) only heard the characteristically fierce wind blowing past the pressurized cabin of the aircraft as they flew at Mach 0.88 while cruising.

Mejia's jet was well armed for the task. His jet's internal bays held two 1000-lb GBU-16 Paveway II bombs and two AIM-9X air-to-air missiles. Boyd's aircraft only held one such bomb, replacing the other with an AGM-88E HARM missile, intended to lock onto and destroy potential air defense radars that the Trotskytopians may use—perfectly suited for the suppression of enemy air defenses (SEAD) role. He still held air-to-air missiles for self-defense in case fighters were deployed against the Viranians. Because everything was loaded into the internal bays rather than mounted on the wings, the aircraft were extremely difficult to detect and were more aerodynamic, increasing fuel efficiency. The mid-flight refuel just off the coast of Trotskytopia had aided in extending the range of these fighters as they flew inland for their mission.

Once they were within 15 kilometers, the bombs locked on to their targets using the built-in laser guidance suite. Boyd spoke on radio, "We're in range," he paused. "Bombs armed."

Mejia then spoke, "Archer 4, this is Skyhawk 2-2, we are in range and dropping the load. Be advised, danger close, danger close." His forward-looking infrared (FLIR) could clearly see a number of white bodies—against a black background—firing weapons towards another group of people next to some vehicles. This would be close.

"Skyhawk 2-2, targets captured. Bombs out."

"Copy 2-2, this is 2-4, targets captured and bombs out."

The 1000-lb bombs, guided by their aircraft's laser guidance suites, disappeared in the distance. Mejia watched his FLIR, waiting tensely for the hit. Seconds later, the suspense was broken by three white-hot explosions, directly on top of the targets they'd been aiming for. And they didn't hit the good guys.

"Baseplate 5-5, this is 2-2, we've confirmed three hits, battle damage assessment confirms positive impacts," he said. "We're going home, over."

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 4:43 pm

Leo stumbled over to goins, eyeing the body with a sigh. He winced as something dribbled over his face. He wiped at it with his hand blinking in confusion as it came away red, he looked up to a soldier with a medical kit who began to thoroughly inspect his face. He sighed slighty, using the shiny syringe case as a mirror. Leo raised his brow as he saw a huge cut running the length of his face from his cheek down to over his lips.
"That's gonna leave a nasty scar." The soldier announced as he began cleaning it. Leo merely grunted in reply.
The ground began to rumble as soldiers appeared moving quickly on the horizon toward them. Behind them a battered, scratched tank with a long barrel followed, clearly previous Yandian Military but hastily repainted in the middle of a battle some months prior with Revolutionary symbolism. Along the front as it came closer, the words 'Transinsky's Knife' had been scrawled across in red paint. Leo cocked a smile, then regretted it as it stretched his cut, the soldier attending to him tutting.
"I had just got the bit sorted!"

The medics of the newly arrived reinforcement spread out, attending where they needed. A few of the guards directed them to focus on the envoys and they rushed over to help.

Leo growled as a ranking soldier approached with a stiff Yandian officers hat atop his rounded head.
"Report, sir?" the General inquired, with Leo replying quietly due to his inability to move his mouth much with the cut.
"Ambush. Huge explosion wiped them out. It wasn't us...?"
The general stiffened for a moment, shaking his head with a gulp. Leo shoved the attending soldier away, twisting around to Leala with a furrow of his brow.
"Do you know anything about this?" he inquired more angrily than he'd intended.
He couldn't deny it had saved most of their lives, but at the same time Yandia had no airforce beside a few old choppers and if other countries could bomb them so freely, they'd be in massive danger if the investigators decided the Leo wasn't fit to lead.

by **Virana** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 5:23 pm

Leala just looked at Leo with no idea what to say. She was clearly in pain, with Brock just having wrapped her wound, and had barely any idea what was happening. Thoughts were raging through her mind as she tried to get a clear grasp on the situation, attempting to keep her mind cool in the middle of a warzone, but everything had happened so fast, so fluidly, and with such terrifying brutality.

Veloz got up from his ditch, his bicep still pulsing in pain where he got shot. But it didn't matter, the rest of the Trotskytopians were here, so he'd get it patched up later. There were others whose injuries were worse—mostly the diplomats, since their truck had been hit by the IED. He looked up in time to see two small fighter aircraft in the distance, their dark gray paint schemes letting him know that those were Navy—this almost made him smile as he wiped the blood away from his nose.

He limped towards Leo as the distant sound of the fighters softly reached them with a subtle, continuous boom. "Leo, it was me. I called in the airstrike. We needed it." He turned to the general. "My sincerest apologies General, but I've been in more firefights than any of your men can imagine. I'll be the first to tell you that we absolutely needed that edge, and we got it." A few fresh cuts on his face and a bloody nose made his statement all the more believable and all the more true.

He glanced towards Goins and Marez. Marez was awake now, if just barely, but was shaken up bad. He had a deep gash on his forehead and the medics were saying there was a potential concussion due to the impact of the initial IED. Goins, on the other hand, still hadn't regained consciousness. Trotskytopian medics surrounded him, having torn away his suit, shirt, and concealed body armor. One of the rubbed the two paddles of the defibrillator together and uniformly touched them onto his chest, causing an electrical shock that made his body move with a jerk, attempting to restart his heart. There seemed to be no effect as the medics talked loudly to each other in a foreign language that Veloz could just barely understand.

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 6:58 pm

The medics rapidly talked away.
"Take defi, double-plus hit! Double! Double!"
"Know, know! Ugh, plus bad. D-Call?"
"Double-no! Rep, rep! P-zero!"

The conversation continued as such, clearly derived form English but incredibly shortened into what may appear to be meaningless drivel to those who didn't understand. Almost all Yandians spoke English, but most refused to use it in informal conversation or during intense ones like now.

Leo twisted about in time to hear Veloz' explanation. He flared his nostrils but made no hostile remark. He began to turn as Veloz issued his apologies, but stopped short as he finished his words, turning around with a glare of absolute hatred in his eyes. Leo rushed forward to grab Veloz by the collar, pushing him up against the still-standing truck. As he did so, the Viranian guards raised their rifles, and in return the Trotskytopian forces raised their rifles back, an almost perfect line between the two forces with Veloz and Leo in the middle. Leo was bellowing loudly,
"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MY MEN! You are a spoiled, well-funded little CHILD compared to what we've been through so don't you dare make a comment about the experience of my men again because we've suffered far more than your fucking rich fucking self with your access to jets and massive supplies could ever understand!"
Leo bristled with anger, but released Veloz roughly, twisting about and marching toward the tank. He grabbed a hold of the front and barrel and clambered on top before gazing down to the troops who still had weapons pointing at eachother.
He was sure many of those weapons weren't on the listed equipment but he wasn't going to complain after it had helped and he made a point not to raise the issue of the bombing.

"Put down your weapons!" He commanded to his soldiers who obeyed almost immediaetly, with only slight hesitation due to still having weapons trained on them. "Today an envoy we have beent asked to protect has been attacked. One of them may be dead. Despite diplomatic markings, the vehicles were still assaulted! These Loyalists have no pride or honor. They are the devils who oppressed us and we will not rest until every single one of them is dead or imprisoned. Men, what say you?!"
The men began cheering as Leo finished, raising their rifles in the air, a few firing off celebratory shots. Leo clamabered down from the tank with a glare toward Veloz, obviously riled by his earlier comment on his troops and began making arrangements with the general.

The soldiers returned to sweep the hills for survivors and medics continued their frantic work on goins and the rest. One young looking nervous Medic with the name "Private. Polski" stitched onto his uniform approached Veloz with a cough, speaking slowly in broken English.
"I-er..I swound. I-I swound. " He repeated this odd phrase a few times, pointing to Veloz' injury.

by **Virana** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 8:16 pm

[This'll be my last post of the night.]

Veloz realized what Polski was saying and allowed him to treat his wound. The Viranians were clearly shaken up by the events that had transpired, but it didn't matter. Veloz understood what had just happened; he had the training to react to how Leo had grabbed him, but his years of discipline, combined with his injured arm, prompted him not to use it. He felt oddly violated and relieved at the same time.

A true leader was one who could empower his men, not just order them. Whose men could trust him through thick and thin, not just mindlessly obey. Who would do anything necessary to defend his men, not just watch outsiders insult them. And who could make decisions that benefited the true goal, not defend some political crap. Veloz knew these through training and through pure experience; being a commander himself, he had gone through difficulties in developing these for himself in the past.

And Leo, in Veloz's eyes, was a perfect example of that leader. Veloz had dealt with numerous such foreign commanders during his SEAL deployments. While participating in the Acaema Civil War he sympathized with a local commander whose men had not gotten a day off for years in the wartorn country. That commander was currently the director-general of the armed forces of a now-secure Republic of Acaema. After this recent ordeal Veloz's respect for Leo Transinsky skyrocketed.

However, it also made Veloz reflect on things as he got into the Trotskytopian truck to head towards Novakeen with the rest of the Viranians (some of which returned to their SUVs, now ridden with bullet holes). His unit, while part of the SEALs, didn't always have a multitude of support. That was the very basic tenet of special operations. In various operations they didn't even have access to basic air support or artillery; they'd been forced to shoot their way out. Him and his men had taken down some of the highest-value targets in history. They had operated alongside and supported many poorer nations, giving them supplies and training and, most of all, hope. They had endured through the most insurmountable of odds, the toughest of operations—with or without support—and come out on top. And yet all of this seemed like it was nothing compared to what the Trotskytopians had dealt with.

Medical Treatment Facility — Novakeen

Marez seemed fine, and so was Leala. Their wounds were in the process of healing, and they were expected to make a full recovery.

For Goins, the outlook was not so positive.

He had been in the ICU for hours, with the top medical personnel at the base working on him. Severe brain damage, heart failure—everything had gone wrong. He didn't look like he could make it. Veloz and his men, UR intelligence officials, Leala, and Marez sat in a waiting room hastily set up for them—a tent with folding chairs and magazines scrapped from what Trotskytopian soldiers had discarded—and waited. It was an eerily silent and the suspense was extreme. Goins had been one of the UR's most outgoing diplomats, having taken part of such observatory missions in several countries riddled with warfare. He'd been in the middle of a battlefield before. He was supposed to be the next UR representative to the World Assembly. But this mission seemed to be his last.

The men sat there expressionless. Martin was reading a magazine—or so it seemed; he was trying to read but the thought of Goins dying kept entering his mind. He could have done something. He had been the first person to try to help Goins; couldn't he have gone earlier? Why didn't he just save Goins as soon as they were hit rather than waiting for Veloz to order him to? As a SEAL medic who had sat through years of constant medical training, such a loss of such an important individual was a massive hit to his reputation.

Leala, being the only woman in the room, was on the verge of tears. Her mind was still recollecting what had happened. It all seemed like a blur—she had heard a boom and the truck had overturned, and suddenly she was the only one in it. She'd been hit by the bullet and lost her will to live. But that hand that reached in had given her hope—Leo had saved her life in more ways than one. She felt almost stupid; why wasn't she able to keep her mind straight during it? All these men had kept calm and returned fire, but she had almost fainted. Maybe she could have helped save Goins. Who knows? She could have made a difference. But she had faltered against the pressure, disappointing not only herself, but, as she felt, everyone around her. Her two-years-younger brother was an active UR Air Force Pararescueman in Mektavia; it was routine for him to experience this type of combat and remain cool and collected while saving lives. And she couldn't even stand up during all of it; that made her remember him as a baby brother, but only now did she understand the type of things her "baby brother" was able to endure for days without end. The fact that she was now almost crying made her feel even worse about herself; the others were expressionless, but she was clearly losing it. Why couldn't she just control her thoughts? Why had she lived, but Goins, an all-important Viranian diplomat, die? The overwhelming guilt was taking control of her mind as she felt weak, her limbs trembling, her voice shaky and her speech slurred and stuttered.

[OOC: Goins is dead; break the news to these guys.]

by **Phonencia** » Sun Aug 26, 2012 8:30 pm

"Whoa, whoa Leo. Calm down."
Brock urged, rising and placing a hand on his commander's chest, pushing him back from Veloz lightly.
"We're on the same fuckin' side and that air strike saved all our lives! I don't give a fuck how experienced the men are it doesn't do any good if they're surrounded and pinned down!"
he drifted back behind Leo slightly, looking over his shoulder at Veloz then, ever so slightly he nodded to him, looking him in the eye.
"Everything's fine...let's just calm down."
said Brock, pulling on Leo's shoulder slightly.
When he finally simmered back down Brock slid to a kneel by Leala and examined her hip again,
"You'll be fine. Here, I think I have something for the pain."
he said softly, removing a small syringe from his medical kit and injecting Leala with it.
He glanced over his shoulder at the dispersing troops then looked back at Leala,
"Don't worry. Everything's under control."
he assured, tilting his head in Leo's general direction and simultaneously resting a hand on the Makarov at his hip. He glanced down at the dusty ground between them and slowly scribbled and I, a C and an E in the dust. He looked up at her, smirked, then wiped it away and stood back up.

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Mon Aug 27, 2012 3:12 pm

Leo sighed as he entered the medical tent. The surgeons looked up as he entered, shaking their head as they announced the time and left to clean up. Leo walked on over, eyeing the body for a few seconds. He had only known the man for a day, but he had been under his protection, to lose him was a blow. He couldn't help but grin inside, however, as this would certainly put the Yandians out of favour. They had inadvertenly played right into his hands.

Leo twisted about to face Leala with a frown.
"Is there anything we can do to help...?" he asked uncertainly. He had no clue what burial customs the Viranians held, so it seemed like a reasonable question.
"We've also got some of the Yandian defectors ready for you when you feel ready."

Outside, many soldiers were packing themselves around the entrance to get a look inside at the foreigners. Very few of them had been let into the countries during Yandian rule and for many, these were the first Viranians they had ever seen. The rabbled chatted amongst eachother in Yandian, clearly discussing Leala and Goins.

Meanwhile Pvt Polski approached Veloz again. He kept up a hopeful smile, trying to speak in English but clearly struggling. Another soldier was with him this time, translating for him.
"I-er..wh-what..your-like?" Polski asked with a stutter, the soldier next to him quickly translating.
"He's asking what Virania is like."

by **Virana** » Mon Aug 27, 2012 4:10 pm

As the surgeons brought the news, nobody said a word. It would be a grim day that would go down in Virana's history, a day when a man brave enough to put his life on the line in a foreign, war torn country to examine it for the world. The silence was broken by Leo, who had walked in and slowly, cautiously offered support.

"N-no, it's fine," Leala managed to spit weakly, her voice still shaking.

Seeing her difficulty in speaking, Marez took over. "His body will be transported to Virana. Since he gave his life on a battlefield he'll receive an official funeral—most likely a military one." His voice was also soft and weak from his concussion. "We'll talk to the Yandian defectors in a little bit—" he shot a glance towards Leala— "once we're feeling a little better." He then turned to one of his intelligence officials. "Relay the new home guys."

Veloz looked at Polski with sorrowful eyes. "Virana is a beautiful place," he began, looking deep into Polski's eyes. "A place where there is no war, there is no such violence. Where men and women are free to do whatever they want, with the opportunities, the desire to win. Where no one person is stripped uselessly of their rights, where we strive to stand out from the rest. I'd love to look at Trotskytopia someday in the future and think 'I helped make it like Virana.'"

Somewhere in Trotskytopia

Jack Gavrilov was flooring it. He had to get there fast. Simply calling was too risky.

Gavrilov was a Yandian sniper in charge of observing the impact of the IED attack on the highway from far away. He had given his men a signal to launch their ambush from almost a mile behind them—but during the firefight something unbelievable occurred.

He parked outside an old, vacant building. It had been the site of a construction project but was scrapped midway due to its immense cost; it was right now essentially a half-constructed building, with temporary stairwells, but otherwise completely empty and avoided. Which made it the perfect headquarters.

He raced up the stairs, holding his flashlight up in front of him and making it flash on and off over and over, like a strobe light—that was the signal. He reached a makeshift door near the top floor and knocked on it three times, and then pulled out his age-old CD player from his pocket and played the song We Will Rock You aloud. A masked man opened the door, letting him in, and then closed it.

"Let me talk to Bodrov," he said to the man. "Now."

The man nodded and led him through the empty building to the rear of the large room, opening another door. Gavrilov entered and, sitting in front of him, was Bodrov (or, as he alone also knew him, Lucas Zuyev). Bodrov saw him and said, "So what happened? I was expecting a call on the ambush."

Gavrilov nodded. "Something happened, sir. There was an explosion. A big explosion. Our comrades all went up in flames."

Bodrov furrowed his brow. "Was it artillery? Those Trotsky fools don't have an air force."

"Sir, I saw them! They were fighters—you know, those new stealth fighter planes. They were in the distance as the explosions hit. I felt like it was too risky to call—someone may tap in and listen. I think we hit a foreign envoy."

Bodrov was carefully analyzing the situation in his head. "Shit. Fucking Yefremov and Volodin. You go and tell them the shit they've done. Now those damn foreigners are going to be against us on the Trotsky side. Any idea who it was?"

Gavrilov shrugged. "No idea sir. We'll see something in the news if it was an envoy."

Bodrov agreed. "Now go tell them!"

Gavrilov sprinted out of the room, running down the steps. He exited the building, making his way to his car. It was in the middle of the night; the streets were empty; it was quiet, only the sound of crickets heard from everywhere around him. He pulled out his keys to unlock his car. And then it hit him.

The 8.6 mm .338 Lapua Magnum bullet penetrated his skull. For a millisecond he had seen his entire life flash by; the time he spent at the Viranian training camp, the constant warnings that they would be watching his every move. Everything had just begun to make sense; in that millisecond his mind had started to put it all together. But it was too late. The next millisecond he was laying on the floor, blood gushing from his head, dead as a rock.

[OOC: That was a Viranian sniper, jlyk.]

Presidential Palace — Virana City

President Luis Castilla had just heard the news.

The JIA intelligence officials had just debriefed him and the rest of Cabinet in a debriefing room in the Presidential Palace.

"Oh, but there's one more thing," said the nameless intelligence official presenting it to the rest. "One of our informants working under the Yandians confirmed that the attack had been authorized by a man named Lucas Zuyev—under the alias Robert Bodrov. Zuyev had been trained by the Viranian Operation BLACK RAIDER program seven months ago and inserted covertly into Trotskytopia to destabilize Leo Transinsky's regime. We believe he didn't know who he was attacking—but now he's useless. Zuyev is a loose end that needs to be tied up."

Castilla raised an eyebrow. The all-important envoy had just died, and they were already getting ready to kill another guy responsible? And he was a former Viranian ally?

"We've got a plan that needs presidential approval. A special mission unit should be deployed to Trotskytopia, working with some of our intel officials and Trotskytopians to track this guy down. We'll declare him an enemy of the state, they don't need to know the whole story."

Castilla nodded. "I'll sign for it. Any particular units you'd like to send in?"

The official replied, "Yes. The same unit that protected Goins and his envoy. They'll want some serious revenge. One got shot in the ankle."

by **Trotskytopia (Ancient)** » Mon Aug 27, 2012 4:45 pm

Leo nodded solemly, bowing his head before leaving the tent by walking backwards, a Yandian custom never to leave a room containing the dead with your back to the bodies out of respect. As he left he quickly called out, "We have a barracks hall prepared for you and your men, just head in when ready."

After leaving, he twisted about to his soldiers who had stepped back slightly to give him room. He tutted, sighing as he quietly spoke an order.

"Leave them be, they deserve some peace. You'll have an oppertunity to talk to them later, I assure you..." A few pouted or grimaced before leaving, most however nodded in understanding and returned to their duties. Some who were off duty approached some of the Viranian guards and pestered them with question after question, clearly amazed by the presence of the foreigners and less disciplined than Leo's Personal Guard.

Leo himself marched into the Command Tent and met with the high-ranking officers stationed there.
"You had news regarding the situation?" he asked with a cock of his brow.

Polski furrowed his brow, turning to the other soldier who translated quickly for him.

"V nicewise. No crimethink. Man-woman plus free. Um..oppertunities and win-wise. No joycamp, man-woman free for oldthink or newthink. Wants Trotskytopia goodthinker by Virania."

Polski blinked as he turned back to Veloz almost completely dumbfounded. His mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he glanced between his translator and Veloz, laughing slightly with glee.

"Trotskytopia be double-plus good!" he said extatically, "I minirec newthinker?" The translator nodded, turning to Veloz.

"He said, he hopes Trotskytopia could be like Virania someday, and he asks if he could write to you?"

"What the hell are you saying?!" Leo slammed his fist down on the table, bellowing into his generals face. "How could the Yandian government have afforded that!?" The General shifted uncomfortably.
"We believe they were being funded by an outside source, but we don't know who" the General said, pursing his lips.

"So you're telling me that somewhere in the country there's a fucking nuclear missile that both sides are now looking for?!" This presented a problem. It appeared that during the Revolution as fighting heated up in the capital, the Yandian government burnt most records of their secret missile project. They had funding from an outside source and had been diverting money from social spending in order to pump the missile program with money. Now with the records burnt, the Yandians had lost the location of the silo, but where very much aware of it's existance. Now too, the Trotskytopian forces knew the same.

"You realise what position this puts us in? If we don't tell the investigators and the Yandians find it first, we're dead. If we're discovered being aware of it, we're dead. If I fucking TELL them about the situation, we'll HAVE to accept some form of foreign military presence until we find it and get it decomissioned!"

One of the generals piped up, "Sir, why don't we just find it and use it to-"

"Because then we'll get fucking nuked ourselves, you moron!" Leo shouted in reply, making the guards outside flinch. "Jesus Christ...I don't see any other choice. Get one of the investigators in here now."

by **Virana** » Tue Aug 28, 2012 1:29 pm

Veloz replied, "Sure, you can write to me." As soon as he said it, one of the Trotskytopian soldiers barged in and told them that they were needed in the command tent urgently.

Marez and Leala walked into the tent alongside the head intelligence official—who still hadn't given out his name—and Veloz. As Leala walked by Brock she gave him a slight, subtle nod—a sign that she'd seen his signal earlier. In the tent they were informed of the nuclear device—leaving them awestruck.

"So you're telling me that there is a nuclear weapon hidden in the country and both sides know about it? And that they'd be willing to use it?!" said Veloz alarmed, glaring at Leo. He looked at the intelligence official, who replied with a nod and went into the corner, murmuring something into a hidden microphone.

Department of Defense Headquarters — Saladin Facility — Virana City

"We've got new intelligence," said an fully-suited official to President Castilla. "We need to hunt down Zuyev, but there seems to be another obstacle that the Trotskies are worried about a little more."

Castilla was looking with his eyes torn open. They had transported all of Cabinet here, alongside the Chancellor of Congress. It was a briefing room deep underground in the very heart of the Saladin Facility—the UR equivalent of the Pentagon. The room was custom-made for the president and other officials for briefings, and right now was a time that warranted its use as much as any.

"There's a nuclear device in Trotskytopia. The Yandians are hunting for it. The Trotskies are hunting for it. We've got a nuclear terrorism threat, Mr. President. The Trotskies are requesting our support—special forces to help track it down. In exchange they're willing to help us find and capture Zuyev. It seems to be a win-win."

Castilla glared at him, completely and utterly terrified. "Nuclear terrorism? We need to get our envoys out of the country, fast. Fuck the interviews, we got all we need. They've been attacked once; we don't want them nuked."

"We've got a plan for them as well," he said. "They'll be in conventional unmarked vehicles—not at all something that would raise an eyebrow. Well in front and behind the vehicle—preferably a good distance away to avoid attention—we'd have Trotskytopian military trucks in case things go awry. They'll be escorted to the airport where we'll get them the fuck out."

"Sounds good. Bring those men and women home in one piece. They've already been through a lot. What about our special forces?"

"We've got one team of SEALs in the country, and they'll be receiving their equipment in a short time. More will be deployed soon."

"This won't be easy. Two tier-one objectives at once."

"We'll take them both. No one said this would be easy. The only easy day was yesterday," the intelligence official replied, quoting the motto of the SEALs.

Mass public executions in Trotskytopia [MT, Open]

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