The Sacred War (Workers of the World Unite! IC CLOSED)

[Chernobl]

"The Revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."
-Che Guevara
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OOC Thread
"The Sacred War" Chapter I: Insurrection

Central Square (Hero's Square*), Civitas Maxima (Chezkau*), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl*)
1900 Hours, November 17th, 20XX**

"THIS DEMONSTRATION HAS BEEN DEEMED UNLAWFUL. YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO DIS-"

A sickening crack followed by a clang was heard as the voice cut out and the loudspeaker the man had been holding fell from his hand and onto the thick steel armor of his black MRAP, bearing police markings. The dead body of the police officer who had been speaking was sprawled out over the roof of the armored vehicle, a trickle of blood leaking from a wound in his face, where his tactical helmet had failed to protect him.

Around the vehicle was a sea of people. People from all backgrounds, students, factory workers, secretaries, uniformed and fully equipped soldiers, beggars, paupers and criminals... even a few uniformed cops. Many were holding large banners, most of them red, bearing slogans of revolution, freedom, communism and socialism. All were yelling, the voices of millions, all yelling at once was simply too much to distinguish, and the noise could only be deciphered by the audial nerves as an incredibly loud humming, or just a collective of indecipherable shouts and yells.

From the sea of people, a man slinked his way up towards the MRAP, before climbing on top, and picking up the megaphone. The man was the vanguard of this spontaneous revolution, a young man, only 27 years of age, a doctorate student at Central Dominion University. He was above average in height, but not a large man by any means, in fact, he would be better described as slim. He was wearing black military surplus boots, work pants, a bright red zip up hoodie, and a black and red shemagh wrapped around his face. In his right hand, he held a Glock 19 pistol, which he raised above his head, eliciting a thunderous cheer from the horde of disgruntled workers and paupers that had filled the very heart of The Dominion, or as the communists referred to it, Chernobl. The nations historical name. The name it had used before the capitalists had sold the entire nation and its people out, and their culture and identities with it.

"URRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" The crowd shouted waving their bright scarlet flags, and thrusting their banners into the airs like hunting spears into the flesh of a wild boar. A few gunshots rang out, as a many of the armed revolutionaries fired their guns into the air, excited and renewed by the presence of their ever charismatic leader, their vanguard... Vasili Volgin. Direct descendant of a past Chernoblian revolutionary, and proud of his bloodline to boot.

"GOOD EVENING COMRADES!" Vasili shouted into the megaphone, his words ringing out through the square.

"URRRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRAAAAAAA!!!" The crowd shouted back, their own greeting. The traditional Chernoblian war cry, no longer used after the capitalist hijacking. Until now.

"Here we stand! Here we finally stand! In the very HEART of this great nation! Hero's Square! Chezkau! The city of our fore fathers! A city built on the blood, sweat and tears of our people! A city... that now cries tears of its own. The greedy, imperialist filth who have hijacked our nation, have raped this city, turning it into a horrific abomination, a shadow of its former self. They changed the names of the very buildings our ancestors toiled to build, and moved the seat of their puppet government away from the place where the leaders of our people have lived for hundreds of years, to an ivory tower of glass and steel, a symbol of their sick decadence, the very sick decadence that has been slowly killing this great nation, eating away at it slowly like a plague of old! Today, comrades... today... WE WILL TAKE OUR NATION BACK!"

The crowd was electrified, cheering and yelling, firing their weapons into the air, and then finally, the trademark...

"URRRRAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA!"

Vasili held up his hand, and began to speak again.

"Across the nation, others are joining us in this cause. In Vilickigrad, Stromya, Chernoblynsk, Byelostok, everywhere! At every military base in the nation, the soldiers, our fellow common man, our fellow workers, blood of our blood and flesh of our flesh, have taken up arms against their bourgeois commanders and joined us in our cause! The entirety of the great Chernoblian people cry out for freedom with a voice so loud, a fury so righteous, that it cannot be ignored! WE ARE WINNING! It is up to us, children of Chezkau, to take the ivory tower of our bourgeois overlords, and build our new nation, A NEW CHERNOBL! A CHERNOBL! WHERE WE! THE WORKERS! THE STUDENTS! THE SOLDIERS! THE FARMERS AND THE INTELLECTUALS ARE THE KINGS! THE HEROES! URA COMRADES! URA! ONWARD TO VICTORY! ONWARD!" Vasili yelled, with a god like charisma, pointing his hand to the tower behind them, through streets and alleyways, all of which were guarded by what was left of the police. The massive sea of people joined Vasili in his cheer, and began flowing in on the capital tower from all directions, their war cries echoeing through the city, their gunshots following them...

Central Tower, Chairmans Office, Civitas Maxima (Chezkau*), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl*)
1946 Hours, November 17th, 20XX**

"Mr. Chairman... The-they've surrounded the tower."

Erich Tjaden looked out from the window of his office at the very top of The Central Tower. 136 floors up from the ground. A little over 2,000 feet. Before him, lay his city. A city that he had built. It's towers massive, its infrastructure impeccable, expensive? Perhaps, but impeccable. Immaculate. Now, instead of seeing the shimmering sea of neon lights and glass he had looked out over proudly for years, he saw a city on fire. Plumes of smoke rose up over its buildings, probably from the filthy communists burning cars... or the bodies of his loyal policemen. Instead of the sounds of car horns and traffic, he heard gunshots and explosions. everything he had worked for, everything he had ever dreamed of, his life's work, was burning in front of his eyes.

"We... We need help. I suppose it's time to contact the ACA..." Tjaden said, an audible sadness in his voice.

"But sir! We need to get you out of here! We can do it!" The agent said. Ever loyal, even in what was so clearly the end.

"Nobody can get us out now son. They've already taken almost every military base... hell... they ARE the military now... even many of the police have joined them. It's us against the world my boy. I should have contacted them when the riots started... but I didn't think it would come to this." Tjaden said. He was barely keeping it together now. He spoke as a man who had already lost everything. The factories of his multiple companies no longer belonged to him, his house had been firebombed, his bank account frozen by hackers, and his nation... Taken.

"What should I say? We only have a few squads of cops outside, we don't have much time..." The agent asked. Just as he said that, the sounds of gunshots intensified. They were very close now. Right at the base of the tower, a torrent of fire.

"Take this down..."

Official Diplomatic Communique
From
The Vast Dominion

To: All Members of The Anti-Communist Alliance
From: The Desk of Supreme Chairman of The Vast Dominion Erich Tjaden

Dear Sirs,

I write you on this fateful night, November 17th, with the saddest news of my life. As you may know, a large and powerful communist element has taken root in my nation, and they have grown in power and influence more rapidly than I ever could have expected.

I write you, a broken man. I am in my office, in the city of Civitas Maxima, writing what will likely be the last letter of my life. Outside, an unknown number of communists rebels are actively engaged in combat with what remains of my police force, and Security Service. I am surrounded, trapped and in all likelihood, a dead man.

I do not write you to beg for help, I have accepted my fate. I write you to ask for a final favor, a dying wish, if you will. Please, do NOT let my nation, and my people fall under the despicable rule of communism. Do anything within your power to stop them. This, I beg of you. I hereby give all members of The ACA, express permission to whatever it takes, short of using weapons of mass destruction, to prevent these communists, leftist and their ilk from taking power in my beloved country.

It is too late for me it would seem... But it is not too late for my people.

Most Sincerely and Respectfully,

Erich Tjaden, Supreme Chairman of The Vast Dominion

*Denotes communist name.
**Allows for liquid time, and for all involved to insert their own year should they include this thread in their national history.

[Adwest]

Balfonheim, Adwest
November 18, 2013

Strong winds and continuous rain pounded the massive, stained-glass windows of the White Palace's audience chamber. The White Palace, a ancient fortress built in baroque architecture and the official residence of the Adwestian royal family, stood at the exact center of the capital city. A magnificent structure that towered above everything and where the seat of government lies, a structure that rivaled even the likes of the Palace of Vienna or the Neuschwanstein Castle of Germany.

However, despite the ostensible glory of the palace, it was also a relic of the hidden secrets of Adwestian society. When one would stop admiring its many towers, the Adwestian flag flying proudly within each, one could easily notice a moat positioned in its entrance, a couple of carriages exiting from it. When you looked around, the general citizenry trying to escape the rain really embodied the meaning of "peasant", no doubt because they'd either be a serf working in in the countryside or an unskilled industrial worker who worked 14 hours a day.

This was the truth, and perhaps the only two things that prevented a communist revolution from happening within the country was its economic system. Contrary to most states of the anti-communism alliance, Adwest was not a fully free market country. It was an economically fascist state, with a "tripartite" economic system, a neocorporatist system. Either that, or because of the ignorance of the masses. Such was the society of Adwest, something the country holds dearly to.

"...and that is the situation in the Dominion, sire. The country is irrevocably falling down the path of communism, with millions maybe even billions of their population rising up in arms against the corporatocracy-like government. I'm afraid to say that there leader might even be dead by now."

The trembling voice of the Adwestian War Minister echoed throughout the hall, as he explained the current happenings in Chernobyl, although the beating of raindrops against the windows still drowned up his tone.

Edward Durnador IV, Adwest's sovereign who was crowned quite some time ago, nodded calmly, though with a terse look on his face. "As a compatriot of their country, we are obliged to assist them, and that I will do. You have my permission to mobilize as many troops as we can spare."

The War Minister instinctively stood up from his kneeling position, his eyes growing wide. The Minister spoke quickly, trying his best to suppress dissatisfaction at the monarch's words. "But my liege, the country is swarming with revolutionary forces, way larger than our armed forces. The country's fall is inevitable, I'm sad to say."

"No. The communist scum that threaten the country do not dictate its faith. They are disorganized, they are driven by the spur of the moment, and they are not sufficiently supported by any other external force as far I can see. Therefore, there is still hope and we will do our best to maintain the current regime. The Dominion, being within the ranks of the ACA, will not fall. Do you understand me, Banks?", remarked Edward IV at Banks' statement, clearly beginning to be infuriated.

William Banks sighed and looked down, eventually giving up as he responded. "Of course, your majesty.", he said in a resigned tone.

"Good. I will leave you and General Silverberg with the strategic details, though I must request that you update me from time to time. If I were to ask, how long would it take for us to begin a naval deployment?"

"I presume between a week or a month, your majesty, depending on the size of the force we are to deploy. No doubt this is going to be a grand operation, one our kingdom has not seen since the liberation of Anglynova.", responded the Minister.

"Very well. You are dismissed.", finally said the Adwestian monarch, satisfied at the information.

Though not as aggressive in foreign affairs as his predecessor and father, Tristan II, Edward IV had proved not only to himself but also to his government and the Adwestian people that he was a weakling either, choosing to maintain Adwest's membership within the anti-communism alliance.

Communique from the Kingdom of Adwest
Ministry of War

---

To: The Government of the Vast Dominion, the Communist Insurgency
From: The Rt. Hon. William Banks, War Minister of Adwest

Date: November 18, 2013
Encryption: None

---

To the government and people of the Vast Dominion,

I bid you my greetings. My name is William Banks, and I'am the Minister of War for the Kingdom of Adwest, a state closely allied to the regime of Supreme Chairman Erich Tjaden, as brothers within the honorable Anti-Communism Alliance.

I have written this message for one express purpose; this is to convey the desires of the Kingdom of Adwest, following discussions with His Royal Majesty Edward Durnadov IV and all other relevant government bodies, to enter an official State of War against the barbaric and savage brutes that are leading an illegitimate communist revolution against the rightful government.

This message shall serve as an instrument of Adwest's declaration of war towards the revolutionary forces until such time that the following conditions are met:

1.) All those who have participated in the insurgency yield their arms and themselves to the remaining government authorities and/or the ACA itself, if necessary.

2.) All violence and anarchist hell-raising is ceased.

3.) And the proper government be restored in order to lead the state.

Unless all of the above have been accomplished by the necessary figures, Adwest will do its best in order to suppress this uprising and prevent the spreading of the disease that is Communism, in conjunction with our ACA compatriots.

I truly hope that you may see it within yourselves to fulfill our conditions, so we can avoid any potential confrontations that will eventually lead into unwanted bloodshed on both sides.

Cordially yours,


William F. Banks
Minister of War of the Kingdom of Adwest

[Mizuyuki]

Premier's Residence, Kirayuki
2245 hours, November 18th, 2013

The hour was late, and Shiraishi could barely keep her eyes open despite having recourse to her favourite stimulant, the highest quality green tea from the tea plantations of Shirano. Despite having been up since 5.30, when dawn was just breaking over the country, Shiraishi had been swamped with all sorts of official tasks till now - from attending local administrative meetings, convening her Cabinet for briefings and instructions, dashing off emails to global leaders, and committing to memory the stacks of memorandums that were now still stacked in a heap on her desk.

All in a day's work for the People's Premier of Shirano. That didn't mean Shiraishi enjoyed the tedium of the work, although she viewed it with a sort of detachment, simply as a necessity to provide for the people of Shirano. That was, after all, why she had been elected to office in the first place.

As Shiraishi was contemplating the tempting idea of getting herself yet another pot of the fragrant green tea, a message flashed up on the dimly glowing LED screen of her laptop. A glance told her all that she needed to know about the identity of the sender - it was from the Shirano embassy in the Vast Dominion, otherwise known as Chernobl. Shiraishi had always harboured strong contempt for the capitalistic nature of the country - and she strongly suspected that the enmity was mutual. Nonetheless, Shiraishi had been reliably informed by her chief of intelligence that the Vast Dominion was on the verge of collapsing into a communist revolution.

Unrest had been steadily growing for weeks, the communist ideas spreading like wildfire among the citizenry and taking root in their souls and hearts. The Vast Dominion was ripe for the picking, and Shirano was in prime position to benefit from the brewing revolution. Sipping her mug of tea, Shiraishi clicked on the message to enlarge its contents.

The message sprang to life with a beep. As Shiraishi perused the contents, she couldn't help smiling. The moment had finally come to liberate Chernobl from the capitalists' clutches, and restore the people to power.

---

National Operations and Strategy Centre, Kirayuki
2315 hours, November 18th, 2013

In the spacious National Strategy Centre, Commander Saegusa Mashiro and her superior, Minister of War and Defence Kamimori Wakana were busy drawing up plans for their militaristic intervention in Chernobl. Moments earlier, they had both been roused from their slumber by an urgent summons from Shiraishi.

"Be down at the National Strategy Centre by 2315 hours, Comrade Saegusa and Comrade Kamimori. An urgent matter has just arisen, and I need to discuss it with you immediately. Make sure you're punctual."

Upon their arrival, Saegusa had been ushered into the lobby by one of Shiraishi's PAs, while Kamimori was pulled over by Shiraishi for a quick word.

"Comrade Kamimori, it appears that the people of Chernobl have risen against their capitalist oppressors. We must take proactive steps to guarantee that their struggle succeeds. I believe that the local government is teetering on the brink of falling to the rebels, but our embassy in Chernobl discovered that the Supreme Chairman, Erich Tjaden, managed to establish some form of communication with the Anti-Communist Alliance. If we don't come to the people's aid, I fear that they may be crushed mercilessly by the armies of the ACA."

"Thus, I want you to first discuss our plans for the deployment of our forces in Chernobl with Comrade Saegusa. Get a workable strategy in place and I'll authorise our troop deployment in Chernobl with immediate effect. That is all."

With a parting wave, Shiraishi briskly walked towards her waiting presidential limousine, possibly to inform the monarch of Shirano of the recent developments. After Shiraishi's limousine pulled away with a silent purr, Kamimori calmly entered the National Strategy Centre to brief her comrade, Commander Saegusa, of the situation. Her mind was already whirring with strategic deployments, supply line formation, ammunition, and other details pertaining to the upcoming war effort. As the automatic glass doors slid shut behind her, the first rain of the season began to fall.

---

National Operations and Strategy Centre, Kirayuki
0215 hours, November 19th, 2013

In a few hours' time, the tactical genius of Saegusa coupled with the calculating prowess of Kamimori yielded the Shirano master plan. Still maintaining her composure despite getting only a few minutes of sleep, Kamimori tapped on her smartphone and sent the ORBAT for what they had dubbed "Operation Liberation" to Shiraishi.

"That's done with then, Comrade Saegusa. You should move on to brief your subordinates and get the military mobilised. This is going to be a difficult war to fight, but nonetheless we will expect a victory. The fate of the oppressed peoples of Chernobl rests in your hands now. Do not fail them."

---

[Transoxthraxia]

Regency Office, Monarch's Section, Vounomethea, Transoxthraxia

2100 Hours, November 17th, 20XX.

The Regency Office was never asleep. Although technically it was both the residence and the office of those in the Iron Ring, it also was, in essence, the building in which from the entire country was run. The complex was vast, the size of a city block on the surface, and being three stories tall, and many more into the ground. It was built in a Victorian style, and it was built to celebrate the independence of Transoxthraxia during the first periods of it's independence in the nineteenth century. On the first floor was the offices. It was the definition of bureaucracy, cubicles and computer monitors crammed in every room, some sap sitting at each desk, doing the various tasks that keep Transoxthraxia's heart beating. On the second floor was mostly dominated by the Meeting Room, where the Iron Ring convened and made decisions for the nation. Finally, on the third, were the residences of the Iron Ring and their families. And, on the floors underneath the first was where the TSB (Transoxthraxian Special Branch) and the TIA (Transoxthraxian Intelligence Agency) operated. It was in these bottom floors in which the uprisings and Vasili's speech had been first reported and seen, as well as the president's letter to come in. Within minutes, most of the Iron Ring was awake and coagulating on the second floor.

They received a full briefing, no details excepted. Then they had been given copies of the original letter the president had sent, as well as a transcript of Vasili's speech. The council erupted into debate. Some said direct military intervention, one hothead, the marshall of Transoxthraxia even demanded, at the height of his rage, that if it was Chernobl first, then it was Transoxthraxia. However, cool heads eventually prevailed.

Iaakob Skalkham, the Chancellor of the Iron Ring and one of the council who held the most sway, began speaking in a calm, yet unnerved and detached voice. If one took note at his hands, they were shaking as he held the president's letter in his hand. "It is clear, as a member of the ACA, that, if upstanding democracy and capitalism is to be preserved in Cernobl, Transoxthraxia is obligated to serve our brothers. As our Marshall suggested, direct military intervention may become an option. However, it is of paramount importance that Mister Tjaden escapes his predicament with his life, for, I fear, without Mister Tjaden, The democratic faction would lack a legitimate leader, and the Jakes would already have won. I suggest we sanction a carrier, perhaps an entire fleet, to the coast of the Vast Dominion, and equip the carrier with a complement of the TSB. Their job would be to extract Mister Tjaden. Then, we will see where the conflict goes, and how our fellow ACA members will respond. I also want a letter sent to Mister Tjaden, make sure he knows he isn't alone."

There was a dead, dead silence after he said this. A few nodding of heads, but, otherwise, the room was devoid of movement. Iaakob gave it a moment, then two. "Alright, then, it's decided. I shall give the order to mobilize the Third fleet, as well as a contingent of the TSB." Turning to one of his aides, of whom he had two, he said, "Also, make sure this does not go public. Any of it. If that monstrosity masquerading as the press asks our involvement, deny anything except the mobilization of the Third Fleet as a peacekeeping measure. If any other leaks get on the air," He took a breath. "Destroy it. Make sure it is all destroyed. If anyone protests, plead the eighteenth."*

They adjourned, and Iaakob returned to his quarters, where he immediately begun praying to his lord, the Avatar, that their men would be successful.

Communique from the United Ancirraic Republic of Transoxthraxia
From the office of the Chancellor, The Iron Ring

---

To: The Government of the Vast Dominion, President Tjaden.
From: Iaakob Skalkham, Chancellor of The Iron Ring and Transoxthraxia

Date: November 17, 2013
Encryption: High

---

Dear President Tjaden,

Your writing, along with your predicament, has truly moved the hearts of the council. However, your situation is not futile. It is possible, if we move quickly, that the third fleet will be able to get into position, and a detachment of Transoxthraxia's finest, the TSB, would be inserted into your tower for a rescue operation. I, as well as the rest of the council, believe that you, Mister President, are one of the key factors in this revolution. Without you, the Democratic cause is weakened greatly. However, we must move quickly, if you are to survive.

So, using presumed consent, from both you and our other ACA allies, we have begun to mobilize the Third fleet and the TSB team that will be inserted to rescue you. Remember, stay strong. Time is of the essence, and all is not lost. Feel hope, Mister President.

Feel hope.

Signed,
Iaakob Skalkham.

* The eighteenth amendment in the Transoxthraxian constitution allows any offensive or threatening material presented by the media to be destroyed, and those presenting it shut down temporarily.

---

A few hours later.
Chezkau, The Vast Dominion

(Open to two small helicopters, more specifically Little Birds, painted completely black. Aboard each one are four men, clad in gas masks and all-black clothing. This is the end, by The Doors, is playing.)

This is the end,
beautiful friend,
this is the end.

The two little birds flitted between the skyscrapers and buildings like the animal they were named after, their rotor's sound being drowned out by the din that encompassed the entire city, street by street. The little birds were unmarked, and painted all black, four men each, dressed in all black. They wore gas masks, and a stripped down, black version of the Transoxthraxian military garb. Normally, on their left arm, each wore a sash, some white, some light blue. Each sash had a green six point star in the middle. A white sash denoted a minor TSB agent while the blue represented a major. However, the sashes were covered in another, all-black sash, so to not be able to identify the TSB. They were seated, four in each Little Bird, two on each skid, armed with silenced MP5s and full SpecOps gear. None spoke. On the first helicopter, as they rounded the next skyscraper, could see the tower in sight. A Major agent, seeing this, tapped his comrade next to him on the shoulder. As the masked agent turned, he held up two fingers. Nodding, he turned backwards, and, through the compartment of the Little bird, tapped the next agent on the shoulder, and so forth. As they approached, they cocked their weapons, still no speech was heard. As they got to the top of the tower, it was apparent that no soft landing could be made. The tower had no top landing pad, which would create a problem getting the President to safety, however, time was of the essence. So, the major that sat in the first Little Bird told the pilot to bring them close to the top, as close as possible. Once there, the major hooked his grappling hook to one of the receptive rings in the helicopter, and gently began descending, the minor who had sat next to him helping to control his descent. Once he got to one of the top-most windows, he placed a small shaped charge. He pulled the detonator, and the explosive blew inwards, destroying the glass pane. He then maneuvered himself into the now-open window, and, one by one, the team followed suit, until all eight had reached the inside, through blowing two window panes of the top floor.

Immediately going through their motions, the four of them formed a semi-circle around the front of the next Little Bird to land. As the next four troops disembarked, each of them tapped their comrade in the semi-circle, and, again, without saying anything, using their drilled-in combat instincts, they headed for the nearest door, where one of them, a minor, tested the lock. Finding it open, he gently pulled the lever, opening the door for the man right behind him. They proceeded initially down the tight stairwell in one line of eight, and, once they reached the top floor, they spread into two, loose lines of four. They proceeded systematically, turning quickly from one door to the next, until their CO, operating back aboard the TRN Justice, a carrier off the coast, gave them the information as to what floor and what room the package was in. "Level One-Thirty-Six, Room Three." The CO said plainly and tensely. The team had a ways to go, and remained silent. They could hear those out on the street. It was intimidating to most, even those in the TSB.

From this point on, they moved down each floor in the same tight line they had entered the tower in. They didn't dare use the elevator, it was too risky and loud. Instead, they moved through the stairwell of the building. Once they had reached the floor directly above the president, The two majors stopped in front of the rest of the group. Turning towards them, they stood in front of the door. One held up his hand, and finally spoke. "Atceros, nu Transoxtraxinu." [Remember, no Transoxthraxian.] Turning back towards the door, the eight of them proceeded down the last staircase.

[Wewtlandem]

People's Government Administrative Complex, People's Liberty Square, Seytskograd, Seytskograd Oblast, People's Socialist Republic of Wewtlandem

Four hours ago, various members of the State Central Committee had been summoned by order of Georgy Konev. Some men knew in varying degrees of the situation that was developing in Chernobl. That was the official name that was now being used to refer to the "Vast Dominion", as the government of the People's Socialist Republic was now aligning to the communists in Chernobl. The best part of it, was that this particular battle in the Revolution was taking place in a country that was a member of the Anti-Communist Alliance. It was an organization that had spawned much hate rhetoric within the government of the People's Socialist Republic, and would be the cause of much more.

As for now, Georgy Konev was ready to get the meeting under way. He sat at the head of a long table that was the centerpiece of a large room, with light being provided by soft wall sconces and a huge window that stretched the length of the room, looking out on the sprawling grounds of People's Liberty Park. There were five men on each side of the table, with plenty of empty seats, but for now, those seats need not be filled, as only vital personnel needed to be at this meeting. There were several members of the government, and of course, the top military commanders, all of which were eager to know much more about the Chernobl situation and what exactly what was going on.

On the right hand side of the table, sitting farthest from the window were top officials of the government. There was Commissar of Defense Konstantin Kuzma, a man of forty-nine who stood at 6'4 and had a menacing scowl whenever anyone saw him. Then there was Commissar of Foreign Affairs Anatoly Gennadiy, fifty-eight, who stood at 6'10 and had a much warmer, approachable demeanor. Then there was the respective Deputy Commissars, Deputy Commissar of Defense Lavrentiy Nazar and Deputy Commissar of Foreign Affairs Luka Mefodiy. Then, in the seat farthest from Premier Georgy Konev sat Commissar of Supply and Armaments Leonid Makari.

On the left hand side of the table, sitting closer to the window, sunlight illuminating their bright accents on their uniforms, sat the top officials in the military. Marshal of the People's Socialist Liberation Forces Matvey Prokhor, a man of sixty-seven standing at 6'6 with an experienced, weathered look to his face. Then down the line, there was High General of the People's Socialist Liberation Army Nikolai Radomir, and then High Admiral of the People's Socialist Liberation Navy Pyotr Stas. Then there was High Air Marshal of the People's Socialist Liberation Air Force Zakhar Ilari. Then finally, at the end of the table sat a man that none at the table knew except for Georgy. He wore a military uniform, but it bore no rank, or name. He wore a face covering to hide his identity, and everyone at the table knew only that he was the Commander of the People's Socialist Unit for Revolutionary Protection.

Georgy placed a glass full of water back down on the table, just having finished taking a sip, and stood up from his ornate, cushioned chair, that matched the pattern of the rest of the chairs at the table. He looked at all of the men at the table, and smiled. He realized that this was a gathering of great men, and that all of them held a reverent respect for him, that he had earned after years of working for the people during and after the Wewtlandish battle of the Revolution. He walked to the head of the room, and then turned to face the men, with a stern look on his face, one that all of the men sitting at the table knew very well, and one they also respected very much.

"Comrades, we have received word of a monumental event in the course of the Revolution. The nation known as the Vast Dominion, from this point on to be referred to as Chernobl, is undergoing the course of a transition to a communist government. As we all know, Chernobl is a member of the Anti-Communist Alliance, a group of hate mongering, filth-spewing imbeciles that sees themselves as an opposition to the Revolution. This battle that is taking course in Chernobl is a chance for the People's Socialist Republic to advance the goals of the Revolution and to strike the Anti-Communist Alliance at their core, taking one of their own from them and bringing them to the enlightenment of the Revolution."

Georgy sat back down in his chair, picking up the glass of water and taking a big sip from it. He looked to the faces of all the men at the table and saw looks registering from happiness to ones of slight shock. He smiled and then began to speak again.

"I have already talked with some of you. Matvey has promised me 400,000 men to take place in the battle on land, of course Nikolai also approved of this. Pyotr has promised me a Fleet to transport these men. And our unknown comrade has allowed me to requisition 25,000 men from the People's Socialist Unit for Revolutionary Protection, the largest foreign deployment in the history of the People's Socialist Republic. I have already prepared a communique, and I have assembled you here to inform you, comrades, of my plan."

All of the men began to talk, giving their affirmation of Georgy's plans. Georgy was obviously pleased by this news, and he then dismissed the men that had attended the meeting from the room. Before anyone could stand, the nameless man had left the room. The rest of the men stood, stretching and chatting with one another. With all of their duties in every day life, it was rare that they were all able to gather together and just discuss day-to-day happenings, and their personal lives. Eventually they all began to file out of the room, and finally, Georgy left the room last, shutting the heady wooden door behind him and walking down the hallways towards the elevators so he could go to his office.

Sent To: Members of the Anti-Communist Alliance and the Rightful Government of Chernobl
Sent By: The People's Socialist Republic of Wewtlandem
Subject: Aid and Condemnation

For too long, the people of Chernobl have been subjugated by the evils of the bourgeois dogs. These "leaders" have brainwashed the people in an attempt to make them believe that working for unlivable wages is freedom, and that making the rich richer is a noble act that is the purpose of all people in every nation. The People's Socialist Republic knows that these statements are not true, and now, so do the people of Chernobl. They have broken the shackles of oppression, and have took it into the hands of the people to take part in the Revolution, to bring Chernobl to a better position, to bring all of her people into a better, more equal world.

No longer will the evil capitalists brainwash the population. No longer will humans be bought and sold for pennies on the hour. No longer will the evil, plague-ridden, lying dogs of the Anti-Communist Alliance be allowed to lie to the people of Chernobl. The beginning of the end is coming for the evil-doers that have lied and exploited the workers. Today, the People's Socialist Republic not only issues a condemnation of the Anti-Communist Alliance's pathetic attempt to crush the will of the people, but also declares support for the communists in Chernobl. Even now, our armies are deploying themselves and readying to die in the fight against the human rights abusers that lead the Anti-Communist Alliance and their cronies.

The People's Socialist Republic hereby issues a declaration of war against the former government of Chernobl and against all those who attempt to reinstate the old government. We will not stop until we destroy you. We will not let you silence the workers. We will not let you hamper the Revolution. This is the end to your cruel, ruthless reign. This is your undoing.

Sincerely,

Premier, Chairman of the Communist Party of the People's Socialist Republic, Generalissmus of the People's Socialist Liberation Forces, Paramount Leader of the Government of the People's Socialist Republic, Chairman of the Central Economic Planning Committee, Chairman of the Central Military Commission, Georgy Konev

Commissar of Foreign Affairs Anatoly Gennadiy
Deputy Commissar of Foreign Affairs Luka Mefodiy
Commissar of Defense Konstantin Kuzma
Deputy Commissar of Defense Lavrentiy Nazar

[Virana]

URS Empress (CVN-85)
Carrier Strike Group 8
United Republic Navy Unified Forces Command
In region near Vast Dominion
18 November

---

The captain of the Empress and his executive officer both sat in silence in the bridge, most of the staff in the mess hall for lunch. It was now noon on the 18th, the sun towering above the clear blue sky. The day had been a slow one at best, with little traffic going anywhere.

The XO was zoned out, repeatedly tossing a small ping-pong ball at the wall and catching it as it bounced back. "So we've parked here in a fucking aircraft carrier outside a country that's falling apart for weeks waiting for war to break out. Who's idea was this?"

The captain shrugged, not glancing up from his journal. "UNIFORCOM told me the order came from all the way up the flagpole."

"You mean from Sec Nav or Sec Def?"

"No, the president."

The XO was appalled. "The fucking president told us to waste our shits out here watching the fucking grass grow? I knew he was a shit. Ever since Castilla was killed back in May, our leadership hasn't been the same."

The captain looked up from his work with an annoyed expression. "Orders are orders, commander. Shut the fuck up." As he went back to his journal, the printer sprung into action. "A message from FLEETCOM?"

The XO spoke up, still tossing his ball at the wall repeatedly. "Probably another 'stay where you are and don't do shit'. Why the hell do they even send those to us anyway? If they don't send 'em, what're we going to do, launch a fucking nuke and invade?"

Shaking his head, the captain stood up and took the print himself. He smiled. "You're wrong, commander," he said proudly. "JIA's saying the Vast Dominion's leader is stuck up in their exec tower. Embassy's asking us to extract."

"The Joint Intelligence Agency is doing something?" The XO was surprised. "They were anti-commie badasses about forty years ago, but all the modern 'transparency' shit is tearing them apart."

"Yeah, well they got this intel from somewhere. Embassy in Civitas Maxima is contacting Supreme Chairman Erich Tjaden and letting him know we're getting him out."

"And how the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"We'll find out," the captain replied. "I'll let FLEETCOM know that they have to contact the embassy. We have to let the guys in the Dominion know before we launch."

---

- Brandon Sammon
- Chris Focht
- George Calvo
- Micheal Haddad
- Roger Masih

Flight deck
URS Emmeria
International waters near Vast Dominion
Three hours later

---

Ten men stepped out onto the flight deck of the supercarrier, clad in their Ground Combat Uniforms with MPBAS ballistic vests, all in an MCP Transitional and OCIE/PPE patterns. They were special operations forces at the highest tier, their unit officially non-existent. The Counter Terrorist Force, consisting of a few hundred handpicked operators from across United Republic Special Operations Command, was the most well-trained force in the entire country.

On the flight deck sat two MH-6H Little Bird helicopters built for special operations. The ten men boarded them, five in each, and the helicopters started to life and lifted off. At one end of the runway sat a relatively small stealth aircraft, the blurring heat waves behind it intensifying as it prepared to take off. There was no pilot inside the jet—it was a drone.

The drone soared past the helicopters staying far above them in the air. Brandon Sammons, the head of the squad, watched it pass by. "Let the angels watch over us, huh?"

Another squad member piped up. "As always."

Sammons looked around at the five in his helicopter. "Remember gentlemen, just do your thing."

"So... the VD knows we're coming, right? I don't want SAMs flying up at us," a third one said.

"Probably. I'm a little more worried about the, uh, commie hordes on the streets. I mean did you watch the news? There had to be fucking thousands there swarming around the building. Whose idea was it to land on a neighboring building and go down through the front fucking door?"

"The executive building has a pyramid roof. If you want to land your helicopter on that, by all means go the fuck ahead. We'll meet you at the door."

They all gave a collective, dry laugh.

"Alright guys," Sammons announced as they neared the coast. "This is it. Remember the fundamentals. Let's keep communicating, say everything you see out loud. We're landing on Building Bravo and we'll go down to the ground, across the street into Alpha, up the floors until we find the package. We will retrieve the package, get to some rooftop and get the fuck out. Embassy left two SUVs outside Alpha, all we have to do is reach them before the commies get us."

"I don't like it," one of them said. "Those streets are not fucking safe. Couldn't we just do it Call of Duty style and rappel through the side?"

"It'd probably be a hell of a lot easier," another chimed in.

"No one said this would be easy," Sammons broke in. "We got this, don't worry."

The team's helicopters flew into the city, the collective roar from below booming almost louder than the wash of the rotors themselves. As they neared the executive tower, the crowds below got thicker and thicker.

"I see small arms," one of the operators said. "Rifles, definitely. Look like AKs from up here, can't confirm."

"Well that's just great, we're up against communist terrorists with guns and some with military training."

The two helicopters took opposite positions above the building, and the men fast-roped out onto the roof. They examined the desolate rooftop and scanned the nearby ones.

"Clear!" someone yelled, and they broke their uniformity. Two men moved to the corner of the building and pulled out their sniper rifles; one had a Barret 98B sniper rifle, the other an M18H designated marksman rifle.

"We can't shoot from up here. It's too far," one of them murmured to the other, who nodded slowly.

The rest of the team moved into the building, breaking through the door's lock. They encountered a civilian inside—a janitor or maintenance staff member—and essentially scared the man away before continuing. They discreetly entered the elevators and made for the ground floor.

Upon reaching the bottom, they stormed into the atrium yelling at the top of their lungs. "Get down!" they ordered, pointing their M18 rifles at each corner of the room. Non-combatants around the room dove and took cover, the desk clerk pushing the panic button under the counter.

The special operators didn't care—they wouldn't be here long enough for police to arrive. They requested information about what was happening on the road outside—aerial reconnaissance from the drone indicated the crowd was there, many armed, and they were slowly overwhelming security forces inside the building.

"It's time," Sammons said, ordering his men to thunder through the front doors.

The crowd still outside the building was largely unarmed—those who had weapons had gone in the building behind the retreating security guards. The few who had weapons were caught by surprise; by the time they drew their weapons, there were three clean bullet holes in their chest and head. In the ensuing chaos the crowd dispersed in fear, clearing a literal path in the middle for the team to charge through. And they did, right into the executive tower. They were pursuing the communists that had gone in moments before—trying to chase them down before they reached the package.

[Arcicia]

Libero Central
The President's Office, Official Capitol Building of the Republic of Arcicia

A group of bureaucrats, many of them also politicians, were collected in an emergency meeting demanded by the President and authorized by the AIA(Arcician Intelligence Agency) due to recent matters in Chernobl.
The group was crowded around a large television, which had been showing constant news feed of the revolution in action. Banners of red were everywhere, and violent riots were seen all across the city. Molotov cocktails and rifles were in the hands of almost everyone, and what few did have one of the two or both were using some improvised melee weapon ranging from kitchen knives to lead pipes.

"This is Katherine reporting from the AND(Arcician News Department) in Chernobl <large explosion> and as you can see behind me, the people of Chernobl have risen up in revolt against what they claim to be "the corrupt capitalist system". The elected Minister of Chernobl has been cornered in the largest tower in the capitol city, and is presumed to be in the last moments of his life. Black, unmarked helicopters have been seen heading towards the tower, but their nationality is impossible to confirm as no flags or insignias were spotted on the helicopters, and the flew behind the tower behind our sight so it is unclear what they are doing. We suspect they are a Private Military Company who have come to extract the Minister of Chernobl, Mr. Tjaden."

While very few Arcicians were Communist, they nonetheless had been very disapproving of the status of life in Chernobl. A hard-hitting documentary, "Chernobl: The Worker's Dystopia" had alerted many Arcicians to the depraved nature of Chernobl's economy. While the Arcicians could not actively support the Communist revolution, most Arcicians nonetheless would rather have them in charge instead of what had been seen as unregulated slavery to most Arcicians.

The President finally walked out, and the television was muted so he could speak.

"My fellow Arcicians, obviously you all know the reason I have called you here. Chernobl and its people are in open revolt. The ACA has already declared its support for the Capitalists, while several Socialist and Communist nations have declared open support for the revolutionaries. Since we seem to be an in-between the two sides, I would support proclaiming neutrality. Sending food, water, and medical aid to Chernoblans outside major population centers, along with sending security units to protect these bases, would in my opinion be the best thing to do. We will send in the ACO(Arcician Covert Operations) to eliminate anyone we see as threatening, regardless of their side. That clause, of course, does not leave the room with, gentleman and women. We should also ask for peaceful and democratic elections in Chernobl, to be governed over by foreign observers to keep any fraud from taking place. Thank you for your time gentleman."

After giving the speech to the congressman, President Marshall Fuller walked over to his Supreme Chief of Staff, Timothy Oliver. He ordered Oliver to send a small fleet to the coast of Chernobl, proclaiming neutrality continuously along the way, and to drop off aid teams to set up humanitarian stations throughout the country. The Arcician Federal Air Force(AFAF) would fly small air security missions along their paths, in order to secure routes for future air drops. Meanwhile, the Arcician Federal Navy(AFN) would keep the sea paths open for any aid to be sent by ship. The ACO would be sent in discreetly, only when the humanitarian stations had been constructed

With that business concluded, Marshall began writing a letter to all the parties involved.

To: Minister Tjaden, Vasili Volgin, and all heads of state to intervene in Chernobl in any significant way
From: The Republic of Arcicia

This terrible revolution in Chernobl will no doubt cost many lives, and the innocents will suffer the most. While violent revolution is hard to condone, it nonetheless shows that the lower classes clearly have legitimate complaints about how things are done in Chernobl. Despite valid arguments from both sides, the Republic of Arcicia will not be fighting for one side or the other, and we will instead be sending humanitarian missions to Chernobl to assist the citizens. Medical aid, along with food, water, and security will be available in these stations and we hope more nations will show support by doing the same. We are neutral, and all bases will be painted with the Red Cross to show we will be providing aid to wounded. This medical aid will be primarily directed towards innocent civilians, but soldiers from both sides may be helped if resources permit. There will be no significant military force other than security in order to avoid provocation. Because of this however any attack on a humanitarian base will be considered an act of war.

Sincerely and with deep concern,

President Marshall Fuller

[Nachfolgia]

Obersterführur's office, Reichstag, Sturmgeist City, Nachfolgia
1000 hours, November 18th, 2013

Obersterführur Dieter von Sturmgeist, supreme leader of the Nachfolgian Reich, sat in his office in the west wing of the Reichstag. His office was ornately decorated with a variety of luxurious items and materials. The floor was of black marble and was polished so much so that you can see your reflection. His desk was made of dark oak and was also elegantly polished. The top of the desk had several framed pictures of the Obersterführur's wife, children, and of him and his brother when they were young soldiers in the Wehrmacht. The Obersterführur's personal computer, state of the art in the Nachfolgian Reich, was on one corner of the desk. Three black leather chairs were placed in front of the desk. Behind the desk, hanging on the wall, was the Black, red, and white banner of the Nachfolgian Reich. On the opposite side of the large room was a grey marble fireplace, dimly lighting that part of the room in an orange glow. Above the fireplace is a large, eight foot portrait of the Obersterführur. In front of the fireplace, were several black leather chairs and a couch. Along one side of the wall, were several marble busts of the former leaders of the Nachfolgian Reich, The seven Obersterführurs. All in all, The Office was fit for the leader of one of the most powerful nation in the world.

The Obersterführur sat in his chair, looking over several folders with a glass of Marillenschnaps in his hand. He wore the standard, grey generals uniform of the Nachfolgian Heer with a black leather overcoat that hung on the back of his chair. He took sips of the alcoholic drink as he read official documents reporting the status of Nachfolgian troops deployed to the German Colony of Persia. Suddenly, he was interrupted by his secretary calling him over the intercom.

" Mein Obersterführur, there is a telegram for you from Chairman Erich Tjaden of The Vast Dominion."

The Vast Dominion? They never messaged me before, nor have they showed any interest to. Unless those intelligence reports were correct. . The Obersterführur thought to himself. " bring it to me." The Obersterführur replied, pressing a button on his intercom. A couple of moments later, The secretary walked through the doors and into the office. She didn't look like the typical Nachfolgian, she was of Asian decent. Her uniform was also different from the usual Wehrmacht uniform, her jacket was a lighter shade of grey and she wore a black skirt that stopped a couple of inches above her knees. The uniform still had the Nachfolgian national eagle emblem on the right chest, but it also had the patch of the Aüslander Truppen on the right shoulder. The secretary walked up to the desk and handed the telegram to the Obersterführur. The Obersterführur took the telegram and quickly read it.

" DAMN IT, FUCKING COMMUNIST SCUM!" The Obersterführur yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk. The secretary took a stem back, fearful of the Obersterführur's outburst.

" What does mein Obersterführur want me to do?" The secretary said in German.

" arrange a meeting with the General Staff immediately. Tell them its an urgent matter." The Obersterführur said sternly.

" Ja, mein Obersterführur." the secretary replied as she bowed before turning to walk out. As she was leaving, a high ranking Nachfolgian General, wearing the Nachfolgian Heer uniform, walked into the office. " good morning, Herr Generalfeldmarschall." The secretary greeted the General in German, but he did not return the greeting, he just looked coldly at the girl as if disgusted by her presence.

" Brother, why do still have that unterlegen as a secretary." The man said as he took a swig from a bottle of liquor.

" Because Hans, she's smart and does what I say to the letter. A rare combination for an aüslander." The Obersterführur said as he got up and walked to the window and looked outside.

" Rare combination indeed. These unterlegens are as dumb as rocks, no wonder they're so easy to defeati n battle." Hans replied back.

" Enough of the subject. I just called a General Staff meeting. Brother, we're going to war."

[Chernobl]

The Central Tower, Civitas Maxima (Chezkau), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl)
2200 Hours, November 17th, 20XX

"Sir, they've entered the tower." The SSA agent said to Erich as loaded his MP-7 and unfolded the stock, racking the bolt back and looking towards The Chairman.

"Damn it... Tell the rest of your team to cover the staircase and lock down the elevators. I suppose you should join them. I'll lock down my office." Tjaden said.

"Yes sir." The agent said, shedding his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, before walking over to a cabinet and grabbing the last all black plate carrier and putting it on.

"Good luck son. Thank you for your loyalty, you've served me well all these years. You and your boys are heroes in my book." Tjaden said, knowing it was likely the last time he would speak to his faithful agent.

"We all took an oath sir. We're with you till the end." Just as the agent spoke, a torrent of loud gunshots began to ring out, clearly coming from inside the building now. The agent simply nodded at Tjaden and ran out to join his comrades on the staircase.

Erich walked over to his desk and sat down in front of his computer, entering his password and going going to a program called "Emergency Protocols", where he selected the file "Lockdown Level 136" and clicked it. Immediately, a huge steel door slammed shut over the thin glass door to his office, followed by another one on the inside. Behind him, thick steel shutters fell over the large black windows, making the room completely dark, save for the blue glow of his computer screen. Tjaden stood, walked over to a glass cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of 60 year old scotch, popping it, and then grabbing a glass and some ice cubes. He poured himself one glass, then downed it in one sip. Then another, which he downed again. He looked straight at the thick steel door in front of him, then raged, yelling in fury as he threw the glass at the door as hard as he could, causing shards of broken glass to scatter. He sat back down, letting his weight fall into the chair, and sat slumped, as a broken man. He didn't need the glass, he was just drinking straight from the bottle now. He sat there crying, crying as a man who was utterly, and completely defeated. A man who had failed on all fronts. His wife and two children were likely dead, since he had never heard back from the SSA team he'd sent to extract them almost 10 hours ago, his country, his people, hated him, hated him enough to risk their own lives to storm the building he had built. He was completely broken. Totally defeated.

He looked through his e-mails, which were full of communiques from other nations, even a couple saying that they would try to extract him. They gave him hope for a moment, before he realized that it was simply impossible. He considered replying to each of them, as a symbolic last act as Chairman, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He decided to polish off the bottle of scotch as the gunshots grew closer instead.

The Central Tower, Civitas Maxima (Chezkau), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl)
2200 Hours, November 17th, 20XX

"Keep firing! Keep moving!" Vasili yelled to the horde of fellow communists behind him, as he fired his Glock at the SSA agents a few floors above them. The agents were attempting to take cover anywhere they could, and get a few bursts of when the opportunity presented itself, but the storm of bullets that was coming from the rebels on the staircase below them made that rather difficult, especially when the rebels wielded heavier weapons for the most part. The agents carried MP-7's, but the rebels were using assault rifles of every make and model, shotguns, and many using machine pistols. The torrent of fire was simply too much, and the rebels made rapid progress.

URRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRAAAAAAA! URRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!" They yelled, every time a few bullets caught an agent, causing him to drop like a sack of potatoes. A few of them could be heard crying out in pain, bleeding from wounds that had caught them in a place that wouldn't kill them instantly.

The rebels kept moving, making rapid progress. Vasili led from the front, showing a surprising knack for combat for a man who had spent his whole life in a class room. Every time he came across a bleeding agent, he put a a 9mm round into his brain, eliciting yet another cheer from the mass that followed him. He was on floor 133 now, with his comrades stretching several floors behind him. 3 floors above him, what appeared to be 5 agents continued engaging the rebels with their MP-7's, facing down a hail of lead every time they did so.

As Vasili rounded the corner to floor 134, one popped around the corner, cutting the pie perfectly. Just before he could fire, his head jerked back and he fell into a pool of his own blood. Vasili looked to his left, to see a soldier, wearing full combat gear, with a red strip of fabric tied over the Dominion flag on his arm, looking down the sights on his AHLAR.

"Good shot comrade! I owe you one!" Vasili said to the man.

"I owe you more than one comrade, I'd take the same bullet for you." The soldier said, smiling.

Vasili smiled back, before they all continued engaging the last 4 agents, quickly overwhelming them with their combined firepower. The entire stair case was a gruesome sight, bodies of both rebels and agents were strewn about, as Vasili took a position at the edge of the railing, looking down at his followers.

"This is it comrades! Floor 136! That worm Tjaden is here! Today is our day of VICTORY! URRRAAAAA!" Vasili yelled, holding up his Glock as the mass of his fellows cheered in unison. As Vasili looked out over his comrades, he saw a few men moving up the staircase, several floors below his own. They seemed to be wearing a foreign uniform, as far as Vasili could tell, that he's never seen before.

"Below us comrades! Be on your guard!" Vasili yelled, pointing to the men, who were mere specks from this distance. The othe communists looked down, as well.

"I don't know who they are... Kill them if they threaten you comrades. Meanwhile, myself, and a group of our comrades will go and find that slug Tjaden! URAAA!" Vasili said, motioning for the nearest rebels and moving into the 136th floor. Behind him, the staircase echoed.

"URRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!"

((OOC Note: Vasili is engaged in combat, and Tjaden is fearing for his life, so neither will respond to communiques at this time. However, as there is no official government to approve or deny anything you want to do, you are free to act as you wish.))

[New Nassrau]

Foreign Ministry, New Constantinople, New Nassrau
"You're kidding... right?" Thats all that came out of the mouth of New Nassraus foreign minister, Uganda Lika. "No, i'm not, this is a true messgae from their leader, its almost like he's given up and wants us to help with everything we've got." Said an aid. Uganda shuffled through her files and tried to find the country he was from. The metal and glass table that held all the papers creaked as she shuffled through files. Then, Uganda opened her tablet and shuffled through some more files online. She finally found some information. "This great dominion is nothing more than practically a corporatocracy... just great." Uganda ended that sentence with a twinge of sarcasm. Despite being a foreign minister, she knew the troubles of large corporations. When she first came into office, the government was practically laissez-faire in their economic policies. Only a few years later, a massive investigation opened up horrible atrocities to both humans and animals and many more awful things like them trying to infiltrate government. Thus, the country imputed few but effective laws to control the corporations much more efficiently. However, New Nassrau didn't go as far as to make a corporate tax.

Uganda leaned back in her black leather chair and thought. The aid spoke once more, "Mam, if I may inject, this information will hit the Nassraunian public within two hours, it would be sufficient if we came up with a statement... uh, mam?" The aid was perplexed to see the normally quick witted Foreign Minister not respond. Uganda sat back up at the aid."Get the president on the line..."

Presidential Palace
Vitaliya Aleksandra has seen it all. She has been president for years, thus her and her country have experienced much inter nation drama. Starting with the CoPs, then later with the ACA. She has been ruthlessly denounced by foreign nationals, whilst praised within her own country. Over the years, war has taken its toll on her and her judgement. The once nationalistic and proudly conservative leader has now backed down from her former ideologies and has taken a more liberal approach. Now, she still isn't as far to allow government welfare, but it is a big enough shift for any Nassraunian to know it. Ever since the shift, she has backed down from former rivalries and lead many peaceful solutions to regional conflicts. Peace, however, does not mean she has lost her goals of regional domination. Each new treaty New Nassrau makes with the neighboring countries breaks away chips of their sovereignty. Her office computer soon buzzed away as the foreign ministry tries to reach her. She clicked yes and soon Uganda's less than cheerful face appeared on screen.

"Madame President, you have probably just been briefed, haven't you?" Asked Uganda. "Certainly mam, and it is odd seeing your face... you are not usually the one to ask questions to me, i'm the one asking you the questions!" The president responded in a cheerful matter. Uganda looked down then back up, "Look, i'm stumped, the country has a less than reputable government, but they are starchily anti-communist. We should probably intervene..." The president responded seriously this time, "Uganda, intervene? When I see this situation, I look to see if any side has crossed the line..." "Crossed the line? Excuse me? But mam, these people have risen up and not just peacefully. See, if the transition went in a democratic way, then we would begrudgingly accept it, but this is outright anarchy!" Vitaliya heard those words and it pierced her heart. She always worked to keep chaos out of anything. She spoke up. "Well, I mostly see your point... but if I send a presidential directive to send forces, I would be cut to pieces by even my own party... I must bring this up through the senate."

5 Hours Later...
"Dammit!" Utada cussed as she saw the Senate hearings end. Utada Hikaru is the ever so famous Head General of New Nassrau. Her position is unique as she is the head of the Ministry of War and also the head General of the nation, and a very involved one at that. She shook her head after seeing Vitaliya's contempt face after walking out of the senatorial building. Utada was in her office and watching it all from a newscast. Ever so suddenly, she got the word that peacekeeping forces would be sent. Those words almost lit her anger, and thus she sent for the president. Utada picked up the phone and called Vitaliya's cell phone immediately.

"Good Afternoon Miss Aleksandra. Seems like you got crammed out of your original goals." Vitaliya gasped at the other end of the line "No! Not at all, instead... Miss Hikaru, I had to convince them to help the ACA somehow, and thus we are sending forces to bring peace in one of their cities." Utada chuckled, "Really? That won't accomplish shit... see, if we were really to accomplish things, then we would commit to air and naval strikes. "NO, no air or naval strikes, Utada, we can't ignite the situation much further. If we do, then these people could commit terrorism against us, or worse, if the win, then that would be a stain on our relations with that country for years to come." "Well then, we make sure they don't win, its as simple as that." Vitaliya then became more serious. "You don't know a thing about foreign relations, we are just going to send a peacekeeping force and an amphibious assault ship plus assorted ships and materials. That is final." Utada, there after had to agree, as the president has higher authority.

Later that day, a Sapphire Class Amphibious Assault Ship loaded up with the usual equipment, of men, vehicles and such, and even aircraft, despite the orders not to use them. It was only a matter of time before it would sail off along with other ships.

[Prussia-Steinbach]

Berlin, German Empire

“Scheiße.”

The German emperor cursed under his breath, forcing air out of his tobacco-scarred lungs in one menacing blast. He held a piece of high-quality parchment in front of him―at the top, there was emblazoned the flag of the Vast Dominion. The scarlet licks of flame, rising above two olive branches made the Kaiser wonder how their wealthy, prosperous anti-communist allies had come to such an end. Destruction reigning above symbols and wishes of peace. Was this how the land of Chernobl had fallen? Exploiters crushing the will of the people in order to further their own selfish ends?

Schwachsinn, Steinbach thought, dismissing these populist voices in his head. Survival of the fittest was a necessary and ultimately desirable part of capitalist society. The strong―the intelligent, the business-savvy, the scheming, and the ruthless―would rise to the top, and become the “one percent,” the CEOs, the generals, the bankers, the kings. When criticising hereditary monarchy and the abuses of nepotism, no one referred to His Imperial Majesty, German Emperor and King of Prussia B.E. Steinbach. An accomplished military strategist and acclaimed military theorist, he was fully informed on all necessary matters, philosophical, military, religious, and political. There were foreign secretaries and veteran ambassadors that would never know as much about international affairs as the Kaiser forgot in a single night spent with several bottles of Schorschbräu Schorschbock. The Vast Dominion is―or was―a pinnacle of right-wing society. Would this change because of a few deserters and radicals?

“Your Majesty,” said Paul von Bismarck, German foreign minister for over four decades, as he entered the emperor’s private office within the Reichstag. “I have received the news. Sire, we have all received the news. The Dominion is falling.”

Steinbach rose from his seat behind an ornate oaken desk, at least six feet in length and certainly at least century old. His legs slammed into the piece of furniture as he violently rose, knocking a smouldering cigar from its precarious perch in a diamond ash tray.

“Gott verdammt noch mal!” he said, raising his arms above his head in a gesture of confused anger. “Bismarck, why do the unwashed masses always retreat into the oh-so-comforting arms of Marx in times of hardship? Why do they rush into some sort of misguided populism, crying out for liberté, égalité, fraternité? Is the idea that working for a living really that foreign to modern culture?”

“On the outside, Your Majesty, the idea of complete equality, everyone living in harmony, is an appealing one…”

“And then, they o on the path of their beloved Stalin and Mao! They do away with the oppression of the upper classes to implement the oppression of a ‘dictatorship of the proletariat,’ which always turns out to be a run-of-the-mill tinpot dictatorship anyway. Guter Gott, this all started with letting them vote.”

The German emperor had a personality described by some as “rough,” by others as “abrasive,” and others as “let’s just acknowledge it, Steinbach’s a dick and doesn’t give a damn if people know it.” Renowned for an insatiable love of good German beer more than fifty percent in alcohol content, he chained-smoked massive cigars and was never seen out of his famous sleek, black military uniform. His blond hair always combed back to perfection―never having been known to wear a hat or a helmet―in a style reminiscent of Cary Grant, and always standing up straight, broad shoulders pushed back and strong chest pushed out, he cut an impressive figure, so much some of his subjects, meeting him for the first time, fell flat on their face, praising him as the saviour of the German Reich, despite Steinbach’s acknowledgment that that would have been is grandfather, Georg.

“Indeed, Sire.”

The Kaiser glanced at Bismarck as he turned to look out his window, observing Berlin, the largest city in the Empire. In the distance, smoke from factories poured out of stacks, throwing in the face of any foreign visitors the might of German industry. He almost forced a smirk.

“Bismarck.”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Organise a meeting at ACA HQ. We will discuss the war.”

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building, Berlin, German Empire

The halls throbbed with diplomatic vitality. The staff was as diverse as a World Assembly potluck, with officials from the vast majority of prominent right-wing nations in the world present and accounted for. Kcalbites and Belhavians worked side-by-side on suggested economic policies for nation-states determined to push back against their recession; Nachfolgians and Tyrannians conferenced on ACA military doctrine; and ambassadors to the Alliance from every member state had offices on every floor, addressing their citizenry’s concerns about the ACA and reporting to their respective executives and department heads about the federal goings-on. It was busy; it was efficient; it was corporate; it was all the aspects and pure essences of capitalism, rolled into one governmental establishment. It was ACA Central Administration.

A short black limousine rolled up in front of the sleek, modern skyscraper that held this bastion of hierarchical Rightism. The uniformed chauffeur, departing the driver’s seat at the front of the car, made his way around to the door from which his cargo would make its egress. As he opened the door gently, with one leather-gloved hand, Foreign Minister Bismarck got out. Looking around, he admired the 459 feet of glistening metal set in front of him. Constructed in record time―one year―the building had a single purpose: house the governing elements of the world’s premier anti-communist alliance. This, it did in modernistic style.

Bismarck walked across the wide, clean sidewalk to the door of the building, above which was the seal of the Anti-Communism Alliance. He smiled. The organisation that had been the brainchild of Kaiser Steinbach, ObersterFührur Sturmgeist, and himself, had grown to magnificent proportions. Certainly, they had high hopes, but with that Bismarckian pragmatism, they had never expected it to become an entity such as that it was feared and renowned in virtually every region of the world―sometimes, in the case of the recent War of Words with Pardes, so much so that an entire region of Leftist sympathisers would band together to keep even the Alliance’s trade out. Bismarck chuckled. And how is that working out for them.

Entering the beautiful lobby, decorated with portraits of renowned anti-communists through world history, Bismarck stopped to pick up one of the complementary German cigars one of the hotel staff was handing out. It being illegal to ban smoking in any place considered to be open to the public, and generally allowed in places that were considered exclusive, this was not the most uncommon occurrence; but the cigars and cigarettes being handed out her were ridiculously high quality. Any of these twists of tobacco could have easily sold at two hundred marks a piece, retail. The Foreign Minister decided, with the Kaiser being for absent from this first meeting, he would have to pick up the slack in filling the room with a thick, grey fog.

Walking off of the white marble floor into the shining metal one of the elevator, Bismarck attained a flame from the hotel operator and began puffing away. Waiting to arrive at the thirty-fifth floor―next to the top, and officially known as the “Anti-Communist Leadership Conferencing Quarters”―he thought about the details His Majesty had given him on how the war was to be run. “As per ACA military policy, humanitarian aid will be provided to the populace,” he had said, shaking a finger at the man many years his senior. “However, we will add another condition: violent criminals will not be given any medical care or aid. By effectively defining ‘violent criminal’ as ‘Communist’―because Communists support the new attempt at a murderous Cherno regime―we can legally and rightfully deny and help to the vast majority of the populace, thereby allowing the upper and upper-middle classes―the ones that have remained loyal to the Dominion―to receive the aid.”

The Kaiser had also detailed a program, designed to help get the wealthy loyalists out of the new “socialist collective.” “The ACA will secretly contract helicopter and shipping companies to transport capitalists out of the place that’s sure to become a Marxist hellhole in a few months, if not weeks.” “But, Sire,” Bismarck had replied. “Do we have no chance of pushing back the Red Horde?” That earned the hardened diplomat a stare to frighten small children. “No chance.”

They had arrived. Bismarck left the elevator, still puffing on his cigar. Most representatives of the involved military powers were here―Nachfolgia, Old Tyrannia, New Nassrau, Adwest, and Castille de Italia―and they looked ready to begin. Not that Bismarck was late―he was exactly one minute early―but foreign nationals had heard about German punctuality, and feared the Kaiser’s wrath over them being fashionably late.

“Well, gentlemen,” Bismarck said, clapping his hands together. “Shall we begin?”

The room was sleek, metallic, professional. The table was polished wood, the floor shined steel, and the outside wall plexiglass. Bismarck hoped his guests were impressed.

[Arcicia]

Over Chernobl

Arcician Fighter pilot Rickey Vega flew the Mark 15 AFAF Interceptor across the skies. As far as he could tell, there was very little if not no air presence from the Capitalists or Communists. That was understandable, as most of the violence was happening on the ground. A few helicopter moved around, but they ignored the presence of the fighter squadron.

Behind the squadron was group of transport planes, not carrying any soldiers or supplies but dropping fliers across their path. The fliers informed that the Arcicians were not hostile to either side, and that violence would not be accepted. They also detailed the planned humanitarian bases for any innocents looing for medical care or food and water.

Off the Coast of Chernobl

The amphibious landing vehicles, or ALVs, were carrying teams of ACO to clear the beach in case of any armed thug activity. Meanwhile, small destroyers and a single carrier were further off coast defending them from any possible pirate activity, which was no doubt on the rise in a revolution like this.

The ALVs landed, and the teams went off in military fashion, even though the beach was completely clear. After making sure there were no traps or armed bandits on or around the beach, the ACO members lit a green flare to green light the landing of the humanitarian members.

As the ALV's were bringing in the technical crew and supplies, the ACO had decided to checkout a nearby village, where a small APC was parked, indicating an armed presence.

The CO of the squad went in, and found the village deserted, but heard shouting from the town hall. The APC was loaded to the brim with money, supplies, and ammunition, with very little room left for the inhabitants.

Most of the buildings they investigated that were of importance to the village, such as the banks, showed sign of robbery. After clearing the area, the ACO squad went to the entrance of the town hall and heard shouting.

"Let's hurry up and kill these scum already!" one of the unknown figured shouted.

Sergeant John Vickers looked through the door, and saw a bunch of what seemed to be the citizens of the village lined up against the wall. The man shouting was wearing military dress and an insignia, but since there were no national colors they seemed to be PMCs that deserted when shit hit the fan.

There were five PMCs there, so the Sergeant ordered three of his men to clear the windows while him and another went through the door.

Giving the hand signal, Vickers and the other member near the door fired eliminating two, while the other three opened fire and hit the other three further away. The ACO member ran in and put bullets in the heads of those who had survived in order to end their suffering as they had all been critically wounded.

With the PMCs taken care, the local ACO translator told the citizens to resume with their normal lives and bury the bodies. The citizens tried giving them money as thanks, but the ACO members refused thinking the citizens needed it more.

[Transoxthraxia]

Chezkau, The Vast Dominion
1100 Hours, November 18th, 20XX.

As the TSB agents walked along the final staircase to the supposed level the president was on, they had kept silent, as usual. Their job wasn't to talk. As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, it was clear that the sounds of gunfire and combat were apparent. The first major checked the door to the hallway. It was unlocked. He turned back, and gave a hand signal, much like a thumbs up, but with the first and second fingers jutted out, much like a six or seven year old would pretend a pistol to be like. All of them, knowing the signal, Brought their weapons to their front, at the ready. All of them were armed with the TSW, or Transoxthraxian Special Weapon. This weapon was special issue, TSB agents only. It was a fully automatic, thirty six round-firing piece of artwork. Chambered in nine millimeter, it barely weighed five pounds. Each man cocked his TSW, causing a clamor of clicking noises as the bolt was pulled back and let go. Finally, when the clamour had stopped, the major, the closest to the door, put his hand up in the air, so every agent could see it. He had each finger spread out, in a high-five formation, and slowly, every two seconds, to make sure that every agent was ready, put down each finger.

Once it was only his thumb, he turned, and kicked the door in. He initially thought that he was going to gently open the door, but kicking it in felt much more proper, he thought to himself as he entered the long hallway. The TSB worked in a pair of four men, each kicking down doors on opposite sides of the hallway. Each time, they yelled "TSB! Mister President! We're here to get you out of here!" Or a rendition similar to that. The TSB looked intimidating in their full, black SpecOps gear with their gas masks on. Their CO had ordered them to wear the full garb. Officially, it was because there was never telling what could be encountered within the environment of a full-scale riot. Finally, they reached the room that contained the president. The major kicked down the door, and walked in at point, yelling, "Mister President! This is the TSB! We're here to extract you!" He was actually somewhat surprised that he found the President. He scanned the room with his TSW still up. Declaring the room safe, two of the minors with him stood against the wall opposite of the president's desk, while the third went to notify the other four that they had found the president.

"President Tjaden." Said the major. He took off his gas mask, something against regulations. But he had a feeling that humanizing himself towards the president would be a better thing to do than keeping his face anonymous. "I'm Iaakob Knauvyat." He said in Russian, a language which he had hoped that the President could understand. "This is my team. We're TSB. The Transoxthraxian Special Branch. We're here to get you out of here, Mister Tjaden. We have transport waiting for you. Do you understand?" He asked plainly, before turning back to one of his minors, and nodding. He stepped forwards, and reached behind his back, detaching a spare gas mask for the president, and tossing it to the Major. Then, he kneeled down, and took off the backpack he was carrying. It contained a Kevlar Vest, with "TSB" Stencilled on the shoulders. He too tossed this to the major.

The major then caught both things, and turned back to the president. "If you don't mind, Mister President, but I have orders to deliver you alive. It would be a shame if we failed that directive, no? Please put these on. If you are unable, then we can assist." It was at this point that the other four came in, and the other major stalked up to Iaakob. "Major, we're running out of time. His security is being overwhelmed. I suggest we move, now." Iaakob nodded solemnly. He wasn't used to being on this tight a timeline. "Alright, Mister President, we needa hurry."

[Castille de Italia]

Fullhauer Ranch, Carter Province

John Fullhauer watched as his four-hundred-some count of cattle moved across the prairie beneath the plateau that stood upon, as his many ranch hands guided the herd safely across the land, back into the corrals. John scrambled up onto his horse, ready to head back to the ranch, ready for a lunch that his wife promised before he left out to check on the ranch earlier in the morning.

He jabbed his boots into the side of his horse, a fine Castillian Setter, with a beautiful flowing mane, and a rich brown coat. The horse reared back, then took off, and he rode the couple miles back to the ranch house, where his family was preparing to have lunch. And as he came up over the hill where he rode off to every morning, he saw a military helicopter outside of his house, bearing the markings of the Imperial Navy.

He quickly sped to the ranch, and saw his wife talking to one of the Legionnaires. Jumping off of his horse, he quickly ran to the man, recognizing him immediately. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Legate Williams? How are you doing sir?" he said as he extended his hand for a shake. "Well John, wish I could say I'm doing fine, but I'm not. Truth is, I'm here to recall you. Your unit is being sent to Chernobl, along with a couple Legions to deter the Communist revolution there. ACA joint operation," Williams replied.

John's wife, Michelle, quickly hugged John, as he pondered about the news he was told. He was told that he wouldn't ever have to worry about combat ever again, and now he was being recalled? Was that even a thing? "Sir, but my family. What about my kids?" John asked. "I promise you'll return. This will be just like Anglynova."

Senior Naval Officer Williams, Commander Fullhauer, and the two Legionnaires flanking them boarded the helicopter as its rotors sped up, and it lifted off towards Homestead Air Force Base.

A Few Hours Later, Battlegroup Manta

The Osprey landed smoothly on the deck of the ICN Perseverance, a Valerius-class aircraft carrier, and out came several officers and Fullhauer, clad in his black armor, only issued to the Black Knights, the deadliest of the Imperial Navy Special Forces Command, known as the 1st Navy Special Counter-Terrorism Unit on paperwork and Department of Defense dossiers.

Battlegroup Manta consisted of fleets, the Eighth, Eleventh, and Seventeenth Imperial Fleets. There were nine carriers total, and one-hundred Imperial Legionnaires and Marines ready to wade onshore as soon as the order was given. But Battlegroup Manta wasn't close to Chernobl, and the revolution grew stronger everyday, while the decision-makers weren't making many decisions.

Fullhauer, off the flight deck and inside the ship, he set off to find his room for the voyage, and to meet up with his old unit, which he once again would be working with again. He thought of the last mission, in Anglynova, when he took off in a UH-60 Black Hawk, and eventually, after the crash, he never got to take out Hewitt and his cronies. He thought of how he received the Medal of Honor, and how they told him he never would have to fight again, that they would set him up with a nice ranch in the Carter Province, and him and his family would never worry about the helicopter that landed outside of their home just yesterday.

"Liars," muttered under his breath.

Just then, he was punched in the groin, not to hard, but enough to get his attention. He looked up to see one of his old combat buddies, and his best friend, Buck, who was always the comedian. In that flash, he thought of all the pranks they had pulled at the old headquarters, like the time they had coiled a sex toy into one of the gas masks, right before a training exercise. Terrell sure was pissed that time.

Fullhauer quickly punched Buck back, and they both grinned. "I didn't think the devil let you guys outta Hell?" John said to Buck.

"Yeah, well, when the Navy knocks on your door, you get a Get-Out-Of-Hell-Free Card."

ACA Central Administration, Berlin, the German Empire

Princess Alyssa Giovanni, the Castillian representative to the Anti-Communist Alliance, walked side by side the Imperial Chancellor, Victoria Mede. As the two conversed as they waited for the Germans to begin session, Commander Cadinius and Admiral Young, the two commanding officers in charge of Castillian operations in Anglynova, were also present. By this time, they had learned to get along, and set each others religious differences aside.

"You think that we're gonna take out the Commie scum completely?" Cadinius asked Young.

"Given they don't have much in naval forces, on sea, yes. On land is a different story. They have millions in numbers, while we're only sending about one-hundred thousand troops. If you ask me, we're walking into a slaughter," Young replied.

Cadinius leaned back against the wall the duo were standing by, and watched the two females converse. It was as if they were at a sleepover, and they were talking about the cutest boy in school, but instead they were talking about which boy had the bigger guns. The German Foreign Minister, Paul von Bismarck, walked into the conference room, one minute early, and clapped his hands together.

"Well gentlemen, are we ready to begin?"

"Yes, sir." Giovanni replied as she nodded her head.

[Eastern Char]

Drachma Stock Exchange, The Dominion of Eastern Char, November 18th 2013, 8:00AM ECT

“SELL!”

As the opening bell rung hundreds of thousands of sell orders flooded the market. Although stocks had been trending down for the past week based on worries of a communist uprising in the Vast Dominion today was different. The news from the day previous had already spread across Eastern Char. The possibility of a communist uprising was no longer a mild chance, but a real possibility. By 8:30 AM companies from the Vast Dominion were down nearly 35% across the board, while companies from Eastern Char that were invested in the Vast Dominion’s success were down about 13% on average. National Steel and Gas of Eastern Char took the brunt and was down nearly 39%.

National Steel and Gas Headquarters, Drachma, 8:47 AM ECT

“This is unacceptable!” screamed Leonzio Dominic at his aid.

The report he got was damning. Nearly all the steel mills and hydraulic fracturing rigs set up by his company were either compromised or at risk of being compromised. The company was losing its investments one after the other, and the fact that across the room several large screens showed his company’s stock hemorrhaging value by the second was not helping matters.

“Indeed it is sir, but 2 weeks ago we were hoping this would all boil over and that the ACA would step in much earlier to prevent such an event from occurring.”

Leonzio scowled at her, “I can’t believe the ACA would be incompetent enough to let this get so out of hand. You have to rip the plant out before it takes root or else it becomes many times more difficult. Okay, get a call out to our representatives in the National Diet. We are going to push for a national intervention in this absurd rebellion.”

Once the aid left his office Leonzio reached for his phone. He would need the support of Andrei Nikoli to get some of the other less cooperative corporations to vote for the proposal in the diet.

National Diet of Eastern Char, Drachma, 9:02 AM ECT

“The honorable gentleman from National Steel and Gas of Eastern Char has the floor.”

“My fellow delegates. We all know about the events that are occurring in the Vast Dominion, and many of us have felt the pain of them today....”

“Oh Please!” shouts a man on the right side of the room, “Spare us the pleasantries Mr. Sarkovich, we all know why you are up there. You want us to approve some sort of measure to save your company from becoming insolvent. Explain to us why we should help you? Your company’s collapse would be an excellent buying opportunity for some of us.”

The senior representative straightened his tie and smiled, “That is a good question Mr. Antonovich! You are indeed correct about my intentions to find an option to keep my company solvent. Additionally, as you have pointed out it would indeed be an excellent opportunity for some of you. BUT! You mustn't forget that my company isn't the only one that has found itself in quite the predicament today. There are many here who are also in rough waters. What should happen if the panic selling were to continue? The stock market could very well collapse. Would your company be willing to buy every “opportunity” that presented itself? You must realize that is impossible, and on top of that many would become unemployed in the process. Do not forget that unemployment, low wages, and falling living standards are the kindling of revolution!”

Another man directly across from Sarkovich interjected, “My company has also faced serious problems in the past week, so I understand where the representative from NSG is coming from. The question still remains though, what do you intend to have us vote on?”

“Another excellent question,” responded Gilkin Sarkovich, “I propose that we go ahead with two actions. The first is to temporarily halt trading of all companies that are exposed to the current risks in the Vast Dominion. Additionally, I propose that we work with ACA forces that have already pledged to assist the government to ensure the safety of democracy and our investments.”

The moderator stood up again, “The honorable gentleman from National Steel and Gas of Eastern Char has put forward a motion. Voting shall now commence.”

[Chernobl]

The Central Tower, Civital Maxima (Chezkau), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl)
1100 Hours, November 18th, 20XX

Tjaden simply nodded as the man spoke, donning the vest and gas mask he had been given by the soldiers. He stood and spoke.

"How did you get in here? Are my SSA agents still alive? How are we going to get out?" Tjaden asked, one after another, nervous, confused and surprised. He had really come to terms with his inevitable death, but now it seemed like that very well may not be the case.

So joining the ACA had worked out for him after all, he was amazed that they had actually been able to come to his aid, amazed, and rather impressed. But, Tjaden would be a fool to get his hopes up now. sure, these men were elite, the very fact that they were able to get into the tower had made that clear, but there was tens of millions of communists out there. Getting out with him would be even harder than getting in, and getting out of Vastian airspace would be a monumental task in itself.

But, after a moment of doubt, hope had come to overpower negativity and Tjaden stood and followed the men out. He had nothing to lose at this point anyway.

Fort Pheonix, Druzno Province
November 18th, 1400 Hours, 20XX

The large fort belonging to a joint command between The Army and The Home Guard had changed in its visage quite rapidly over the course of the last 48 hours. When word of The Revolution had reached them, a lot of the soldiers saw their salvation in the news. Many simply jumped ship with their service rifles to try to get home and defend their families, but the vast majority had seen an opportunity to liberate themselves from their slavery.

The men had grabbed all of their equipment and stormed The Staff Barracks, capturing all of the highest ranking officers on the base.

Meanwhile, a group opened the armory, and began to clear it out, filling trucks full of military grade small arms, ammunition, explosives and other materiel and others full of soldiers, to be sent to Chezkau to assist in The Revolution. In the center of the base, just in front of The Commandants house, where the men would begrudgingly head to formation every morning, they had lined up all of the highest ranking officers on the base. Their "oppressors" ans The Revolutionaries would have them believe. Generals, Colonels, Majors, all of the officers that were of such rank to be disconnected culturally, emotionally and physically from the enlisted men and the lower level officers, whom all wished for better treatment and better pay, while the high ranking officers sipped fine brandy and had people to polish their boots and iron their uniforms.

They had them all lined up, about 25 of them, each wore a homemade sign around their neck that said "Traitor to Chernobl". Across from them stood 25 significantly lower ranked men, carrying AHLARS and wearing full combat gear.

A young Lieutenant stepped out onto the balcony of The commandants House, and began to speak to the men gathered outside.

"My brothers, I congratulate you on this day. No loger shall we act as the slaves soldiers of corporations, while meanwhile being oppressed and mistreated by the very men who were selected to lead us. No longer shall we put our lives on the line for pathetic weges, while we wear equipment every day that is worth our salaries ten times over! Today, that all changes. We will no longer be an army of the corporations, the banksters and the oppressors, as of today, we are an army of THE PEOPLE!"

The soldiers cheered at the words of the young infantry lieutenant.

"The men standing in front of you are the instruments of our slavery. The chains that shackle us. Tonight, we will break those chains. These men have been charged with high treason against Chernobl, a crime so horrendous that the punishment is death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The battered high ranking officers just looked down at their feet, probably not even listening.

"FUCK YOU! YOU'RE THE FUCKING TRAITORS YOU COMMIE SCUM! BURN IN HELL ALL OF YOU!" One General said, yelling at the men like he would have if their medals were not properly arranged or their attention was sloppy.

"Very well, that concludes this trial. Executioners! Prepare to fire!" The men raised their rifles and took aim.

"FIRE!" A series of gunshots rang out, and all the men dropped.

[New Nassrau]

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building, Berlin, German Empire

Alex Trivorgia was a man who did not entirely agree with his country. The man was a young thirty something whom if asked if he wants to do anything more, he would say no. This is the job that he wanted early on from when he was a child. Working in Foreign Policy. As a child, it always angered him how foreign ministers would always try to soften their language to world leaders and other foreigners. Well, Alex gives foreign leaders the cold and blunt truth. He loves it, its totally him, and he would change nothing.

He walked along the modern interior of the ACA building looking at the the art and the cute secretaries. Finally, he reached the main conference room and after hearing the Castillians, decided to speak. "Well, it is quite an honor seeing all of you here today. The what you all like to say, communist scum, has indeed risen against the government. New Nassrau does condemn this act, however our way of resolving things is sadly not up to par with the rest of your nations. Madame President, Vitaliya Aleksandra decided against an executive order to send troops, and instead went directly to the senate." He looked around the room then continued, "Why? Well, I don't know, maybe she's worried that people will tear her apart for sending troops on her own... well, anyways, after a few hours, the Senate denied sending New Nassraunian military forces to actively combat the communist rebels. However, my tactful president did make them agree to send peacekeeping forces. I'm sorry to disappoint, however we are positioning these peacekeeping forces in a strategic location."

He moved and motioned towards a map of the dominion on a screen. "Right here is the city of Byelostok. It is the Dominion's largest port and a capitalist holdout. Our peacekeepers will defend and patrol the city allowing easier access for ACA forces to arrive." He sighed after giving his speech, however he knew he would get yelled at for something his country didn't do right.

[Wewtlandem]

Marx-Lenin Combined Forces Military Base, Kolinskyansk, Kolinskyansk Oblast, People's Socialist Republic of Wewtlandem

It had been two days since the commander of Marx-Lenin Combined Forces Military Base, General Abram Lyosha, had received word that his base would be the staging ground for forces that would be deployed to Chernobl to assist the new communist government. He had coordinated some very rapid, very large deployments in his fifteen years as commander of Marx-Lenin, and he would undoubtedly carry out many more, but this one was truly massive. He had already requisitioned 275,000 men from nearby encampments, and the whole Fleet needed to transport the force was already moored at the docks that would be required to move the men from The People's Socialist Republic to Chernobl.

Lyosha looked out of the window of the central building of Marx-Lenin, one that stood thirty-five stories high and towered over the rest of the base. The building housed all of the offices of military personnel and government officials that were stationed on the base. Looking out of the window of his office, he gazed down at the huge bay. There he saw the People's Socialist Third Fleet. The Third Fleet was huge, comprised of four Longswords, twenty aircraft carriers, and an array of support ships. He smirked, knowing that the Third Fleet would be playing a huge role in the battle that was forthcoming in Chernobl, a battle that would be vital to the progress of the Revolution.

There was a large commotion in the bay as all of the troop transport ships were moving to the docks on the far left side of the bay, to make the loading of troops more organized and simple. There were thousands of troops marching on the sprawling parade grounds, and hundreds of supply transport trucks were lined up to load the Third Fleet's supply ships. Lyosha walked away from the window, turning his back to it and walking towards his desk, allowing the bright, midsummer sun to soak into his back. He sighed contentedly and picked a bottle of water up off of his desk, unscrewing the plastic cap and taking a large sip of it before setting it back on the edge of his desk.

Outside, a young Colonel, named Viktor Marat, stood at the entrance to one of the docks on the far left side of the bay. He was barking out orders, his booming voice commanding the attention of all those around him. He turned to a young private who had just dropped a heavy crate, and was now struggling to pick it up. He stopped yelling out orders and walked over to the private, helping him lift the crate and get a grip on it before turning around and beginning to direct around all the troops and supplies that were being loaded onto the transport ship to their places. All of the men being loaded onto this particular ship were under his command, and it was his job to see to it that they were loaded in a timely and organized fashion, as he knew that General Lyosha would have his head if he were off schedule.

e looked down at the other docks and saw many other officers on the same track. They were quickly loading their men and the supplies they would need for the trip to Chernobl onto the troop transports. He looked back to his own dock and then barked out a few orders and looked on as his lieutenants materialized out of the chaos and saluted. He began to give them orders to get their men organized and begin to load some of them onto the ship. The Third Fleet would be heading out in the next twenty-four hours, with 300,000 men, comprising the first wave of troops that the People's Socialist Republic would be committing to the battle in Chernobl.

As Marat released his lieutenants back to their duties, the loudspeakers that were situated throughout Marx-Lenin crackled to life. The resounding, familiar voice of General Abram Lyosha came out of the loudspeakers. The commotion seemed to stop, and even though none of the men could physically see him, Lyosha still commanded the attention of all of the personnel on the base. He seemed to cast an aura of reassurance, and all of the men, knowing that they could possibly be seeing their deaths in the battle of Chernobl, seemed at peace with the fact, and they listened intently as Lyosha continued to talk over the loudspeaker, issuing words of encouragement.

"Comrades, in twenty-four hours, many of you will be on your way to fight for the glory of the Revolution. Many of you will be on your way to fight the capitalist dogs of the Anti-Communist Alliance at the battleground of Chernobl. I have no doubt that all of you will find personal glory in the battle, and many of you will enjoy ending the reign of the capitalist scum that have long oppressed our comrades in Chernobl. Onwards to your glory comrades! Onwards for the Revolution! Charge forward for the People's Socialist Republic, and remember, NOT ONE STEP BACKWARDS COMRADES!"

The docks and the rest of the base erupted in shouts and cheers. Most of the men were screaming the last sentence, the motto of the People's Socialist Republic. They were fanatical, the looks on their faces were ones of pure joy at the fact that what the General had said was very true. The men began to work with an even greater fervor, many of them wanting to finish ahead of schedule so they could reach the battle that much sooner. In the People's Socialist Republic, there was no greater glory that fighting to help advance the goals of the Revolution. The men were all chatting and smiling, prepared for whatever they would face in Chernobl.

[Eastern Char]

Somewhere outside of Drachma, The Dominion of Eastern Char, November 19th 7:28AM ECT

Andrei Nikoli walked down the concrete hall of Eastern Char Central Command. The complex was 250 meters underground and was by far the safest place in the entire country in the event of a war. As he walked passed rooms he could hear the hum of large supercomputers or the occasional discussion between officers. Today he was here for more than just a financial meeting. The day prior the National Diet had voted and passed two resolutions. One to halt trading of certain stocks, and the other to assist the true government of The Vast Dominion, and the quell the communist uprising. He was here to discuss the details of the latter resolution. Andrei rounded a corner and was greeted by several men dressed in officer garb.

“Welcome Supreme Chancellor, you’re right on time, we’re all ready for you inside with our plans.”

Andrei Nikoli nodded and continued through the large doors into the C.A.C. Center (Command and Control Center).

Port of Serburg, The Dominion of Eastern Char, November 19th 9:51AM ECT

The 17th battle group had just left the port to join with the 2nd and 5th battle groups which were waiting about a kilometer away. The 1st fleet was a spectacular sight. Four aircraft carriers, a mixture of twenty-six cruisers and destroyers, along with a large support fleet carrying 50,000 troops was gathering to set sail for The Vast Dominion. The most amazing sight though was the Pride of Char, a giant missile battleship belonging to the 17th battle group that would serve as the flagship of the 1st fleet in the coming conflict. Captain Heinrich marveled at the huge force amassed for a few moments, but then turned towards his company which was assembled on the upper deck of the transport ship, Graceland. “Many of you know that we are being shipped off to fight in a foreign land to protect our country’s interests.” He continued, “Many of you will not come back from this deployment. Understand this, this deployment will not be a walk in the park. All of you will endure difficulty, and if you come back you will be a different person. For better or for worse. Your guns, your squad mates, and your willpower will be your best tools for survival. This is all I have to say to you, but for all of your sakes, don’t give up. Dismissed.” Captain Heinrich was well known as a competent officer. His successes during the communist rebellion in Electrozavodsk, and well executed retreat in the Northern Tundra had brought him from being a relatively unknown Second Lieutenant to a revered Captain. After checking with several platoon leaders to make sure they were adequately supplied he walked off towards a helicopter waiting on the other side of the deck to take him to a meeting aboard the Pride of Char.

Eastern Char Central Command, The Dominion of Eastern Char, November 19th 11:14AM

“This seems to be an adequate plan,” Andrei Nikoli said once the presentation was complete, “I hope you do not forget though that the main purpose of this operation is to secure and protect the interests of Eastern Char. Nonetheless, you should work with the ACA to defeat the communist scum.”

“As long as it does not conflict with the primary purpose.”

“Exactly,” responded Andrei, “I shall now take my leave though, I have other matters to attend to. I will be paying close attention to this operation though. I wish you, and your subordinates all success.”

[Prussia-Steinbach]

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building, Berlin, German Empire

Bismarck watched as some young upstart in the Nassrauian foreign ministry, apparently sent to do some work in ACA Central Administration for the New Nassrau contingent, gestured to a map of the Vast Dominion on the eighty-two inch widescreen at the end of the table. Completely absorbed in his dialogue, Bismarck was able to study the young man’s body language and behaviour. Young, confident, perhaps even a bit cocky, the experienced minister observed. Alex Trivorgia. A bit more… dedicated to the anti-communist cause than many of the senior officials in his government. He could become useful. I should hope he stays with us here in Berlin for a while.

As he pointed to a large black dot on the Cherno coast, many of the other attendees of the miniature conference leaned forward to observe exactly what the man man was almost frantically talking about.

“Here is the city of Byelostok,” Trivorgia dictated as he continued gesticulating with his right hand. “It is the Dominion’s largest port and a capitalist holdout. Our peacekeepers will defend and patrol the city allowing easier access for ACA forces to arrive.”

Bismarck raised his hand slightly, standing at the end of the table. The Nassrauian nodded.

“As we are all aware, I am sure, New Nassrau is known as one of the less… militant states in our alliance,” Bismarck said, seeing the foreign policy expert’s face harden as he did so. “However, the contribution of the Second Republic to the global Counterrevolution is well-known as well. Along with streamlining their military and being there whenever truly needed, the Nassrauians have never been comparable to some of our less dedicated former members.”

Saying this, he glanced to the right and saw the Castillian Chancellor, who had been visiting the Anti-Communism Alliance’s administration centre at this time on a diplomatic visit, whisper to Admiral Young, who was a Castillian advisor on ACA military matters here in Berlin: The Anagonians are who he must be talking about. Damn traitors. Bismarck smiled and continued.

“And we sincerely appreciate this contribution to our fight against the Red Horde which has risen in the Dominion as of late. This will serve us greatly; as well as establishing an easy in for our respective troops, it gives us a foothold in that region of the world. if the city is a capitalist holdout, as you say, then defences appear to be necessary to defend it against any Red militias which might pop up nearby, as well as a quick implementation of martial law, to ensure no one decides Communism might be a better system after all. Though, I am sure your government has already began implementing this.”

The kid looked cowed. Maybe he did have something to learn here in Berlin.

[Arcicia]

Felix, Arcician Port

The humanitarian group was being assembled. Several troop transport ships had been readied in the harbor, and now that the coast was clear on the beaches, in the air, and across the seas the main taskforce could be prepared. Most of the staff were technical crew. Engineers, doctors, medics, and anyone else that could help the humanitarian effort were being loaded up, most of them volunteer staff pulled from aid organizations across the country and under government payroll. The rest were security teams, military soldiers being sent to defend against any violence that would be inevitable in the chaos in Chernobl. Of course, there were the ACO teams dressed as normal military members, and their job was to "eliminate" targets from either side seen as too radical or threatening. The hopes were that none of this would happen.

General John Ibsen was the commanding officer in charge of the entire operation, despite fears of bias due to his leftist tendencies. His compassion for his soldiers and the civilians he had to protect were seen as valuable for the PR of the mission given its humanitarian nature.

After everything had been set up, the small fleet headed out as the first wave, mostly military members and General Ibsen. The ACO teams had secured a small beachhead to begin landing soldiers with ALV's, and despite the knowledge that using a nearby port would be easier, the high command decided a beach landing was less likely to lead to conflict, especially because of what seemed to be happening in Bialystok.

[Adwest]

Ministry of War, Balfonheim, Adwest
1400 Hours, November 19th

"Alright gentlemen, let's begin this hopefully short meeting.". The Adwestian War Minister entered the usual discussion chamber for the elite of the Adwestian command chain with an anxious greeting. A toasty fire provided warmth and light for the place, as the relentless precipitation outside had not stopped yet for the last few days, plunging the whole capital city in a strong torrent of rain. Some would even say this is a natural occurrence especially at this time of the year, what with Balfonheim standing in the middle of a giant "lake" in the mainland.

Hanging his slightly wet greatcoat at a coat rack nearby, Minister Banks walked briskly towards the head of the table. Around him sat a handful of military men, each holding folders regarding the situation in the Dominion and reports regarding possible troop deployments. To the left of the minister sat the heads of each the royal military's branches, while to his right sat the vice chief of the defense staff and numerous intelligence officers.

"As you all know..", began Banks as he took a seat. "The Vast Dominion or the Dominion simply, is under threat from a massive, nationwide communist revolution. Typical situation yes, but a great concern for our national interests nonetheless. His Majesty the King has granted full authority to me in order to help curb the illegal insurgency in the country. Of course, I'm no military man, and as I've said yesterday, I wanted all of you to work out our strategies and deployments instead, so I'm all ears. Let's start with land forces, Garithos."

The War Minister nodded to a well-built and gruff-looking man. The head of the department of the land force, Evan Garithos, took off his almost symbolic commander's cap before speaking directly to Banks. "Well Minister, I've worked out a possible deployment of commendable size of our ground forces, and I propose that we mobilize exactly 2 infantry corps, 2 armored regiments, 2 artillery battalions, and 1 motorized division, plus a number of auxiliary regiments. Not too small and not too large, enough for an invasion on our part, and with the ACA coalition and their forces, we may be able to seize victory despite all odds."

The officer sitting beside Garithos sneered as he finished. "This mobilization is purely nonsensical. My air wings have better things to do such as deal with domestic threats than waste our bombs on those heathens.", half yelled the head of the department of the aerial force, Alois Tolson with obvious scorn.

Banks shot the supreme general of the air force with a cold look before promptly replying. "The point of this meeting is to present our strategies and deployment numbers, not to debate the merits of this intervention. His Majesty has made it very clear that we are to intervene no matter what, so give me the available troops you can deploy now, Tolson."

"I can only commit a single air wing, so we don't endanger our own self-defense capabilities. An air wing with mixed fighters, ground attack aircraft, and rotor-wing aircraft.", responded the air force general with a sigh.

"That'll do. We don't need an excessive deployment as I said. And what of you, Stanway?", the War Minister said after, turning to face the bumbling yet strategically brilliant head of the navy, Supreme Admiral Percival Stanway.

"Ah yes. Well, we can deploy the 4th and 5th Fleets to help boost our naval firepower in the area. The 4th Fleet just returned from Underium without any scratches while the 5th Fleet is currently at its home port in Rabanastre. Of course, both fleets contain destroyers, carriers, cruisers, a few subs, and of course, amphibious warfare ships to transport our men and supplies. Given the large amount of the land force, I'd reckon it'll take a month or two before we can fully deploy all our units to the country."

The Supreme Admiral took a sip of tea served by some nearby servant, before continuing. "I'm mostly concerned how we're going to land troops there, Minister. If what the intelligence department said is true, then the whole country could be plunged in communist hellraising and disorder. With their military and police defecting to the revolutionaries, we might even get blown out of the water before we can even set foot on the place, don't you think?"

The Minister curved his lips as he thought of the situation. There was no solid data regarding how much of the country has fallen to the revolutionaries given to him yet, and who knows what those shady intelligence officials are doing, as one of the most silent and secretive branches of the armed forces. "Your concerns are valid, Admiral. Director Stayne?"

At the address of Banks, an officer appearing younger compared to most of the generals in the table spoke up. "I will work on securing a suitable location to establish a forward operating base commanders, you need not worry. Our focus now should be getting our men to the frontlines as soon as possible, I'll just send you the coordinates when I've pinpointed a location. The dominion is a massive country and I'll require some time to do so."

The War Minister nodded, before standing up. "Well, I guess that covers our general strategy. We'll need to mobilize our men at the moment, and we can leave the tactics to your subordinate officers. Hell, I wouldn't care if you bombed the wits out of that country, now that those communist rats infect every corner of the place. Everybody is dismissed."

Berlin, German Empire

The Adwestian delegation to the ACA sat huddled amongst themselves in one corner of the room, whispering barely audible happenings regarding home affairs and the like. The most notable figure from the trio of Adwestians was the main representative to the ACA herself, Beatrice Durnador. Queen, or rather Queen-Mother Beatrice had obtained a bad case of xenophobia ever since rumors floated around that foreigners were involved in the assassination of his husband, which then thrust his "weakling" son into the Adwestian leadership. She could barely avoid looking at foreigners with distrust, which was bad because she had to move residence here in Berlin after her son's coronation, to fulfill her duties as a representative more efficiently.

Beside the Queen-Mother sat Alfred Hestens, a retired Adwestian field marshall and the military attache of Adwest's embassy here in Germany. The old officers' many medals, including prominent military awards, hung proudly in his midnight blue uniform and cap, which was then overlapped by a laurel green sash. These colors symbolized his rank in the army when he retired in 2010, and he still carried them with much pride as a former officer of the royal military.

Finally, sitting to the Hestens' right was the Adwestian ambassador to the German Empire, Jean Wellington, one of the country's foremost diplomats and a former personal aide to Beatrice, during the days of Imperial Adwest. The woman served as an adviser to the Queen-Mother regarding diplomacy and foreign affairs, considering she had more experience.

The trio had arrived at least ten minutes earlier, and as Bismarck entered the room, the three Adwestians quieted down and prepared to listen.
As the Nassrauian pointed something on the map, Hestens and Wellington moved closer to see.

"I agree with Minister Bismarck. Securing Byelostok for use of ACA forces is a great service to all of us, however, I have to echo some concerns relegated to me by the Ministry of War earlier..", said Hestens after the German finished speaking, turning towards the Nassrauian delegate.

"What would our long-term goals be, our strategic aims by involving ourselves with this? I'm gonna be frank. I do not see hope in the situation in the Vast Dominion, even with the might of the ACA's ranks. These communist insurgents numbers in the millions and with support from other socialist states, including being armed with weaponry, ordnance, and the like, this might not go down as well as we expect, ladies and gentlemen."

[Nachfolgia]

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building, Berlin, German Empire

The Nachfolgian representative of the ACA watched as several delegates began to talk about the situation in The Dominion. This representative, Hauptmann Angelika von Sturmgeist, is by far the youngest delegate in the meeting, if not in the entire building. At twenty-one years old, Angelika is probably the most accomplished of her age group. Being the daughter of Obersterführur Dieter von Sturmgeist, Angelika received the best education Nachfolgia can offer at The Nachfolgian institute of Military Strategy and Politics, which has a graduation rate of 55%. Graduating in the top 5% of her class, no easy feat, Angelika entered the ranks of the Waffen-SS as an officer. She quickly rose through the ranks and became second in command of the Intelligence department of the Waffen-SS. After serving two tours in the German-Persian war, Angelika came back to the Reich and did an number of intelligence gathering on many of the Reich's upcoming conflicts. Recently, she was chosen to the Nachfolgian delegate in ACA Central Administration.

Angelika looked at Bismarck as he spoke. She had met Bismarck before, once when her father had a meeting with Kaiser Steinbach in the German Empire and he dragged her along. He was a man that commanded great respect. A brilliant strategist, he was professional and cultured. A man worthy of being called a German. She then looked in the direction of the Adwestian delegate, wearing the military uniform of his country. She gave him an odd look as he questioned the success of a ACA military operation within The Dominion. When he finished his criticism, Angelika stood up, tugging at her black SS uniform to make it was tight and neat.

" There is something you need to know, Herr Delegate." Angelika said motioning to the Adwestian. " This Alliance has many powerful members, the Nachfolgian Reich and the German Empire being two of them. These two nations have proven time and again that no matter what the odds, we overcome. Our two nations, the Reich and the Empire, when combined are unstoppable. Our Generals and military capabilities are far superior than anything the Communist can muster. All we need to do is press on them and they will fold, just like the Persians."

Angelika then turned towards Bismarck.

" Herr Bismarck, you noted that establishing a foothold in the region is essential to further ACA operations there and I agree. Byelostok is of great importance to the joint ACA task force and the Communist know that. I'm sure they will try to take it before we arrive. That is why we need to deploy as soon as possible. My father, Obersterführur Dieter von Sturmgeist, a man I'm sure you know and respect, is already deploying a expeditionary force consisting of Waffen-SS and Heer troops to land at Byelostok. All the peacekeepers have to do is hold on to the city long enough for the Nachfolgians to arrive. Of course, it doesn't matter to us if the city is friendly or hostile, we'll still land an establish a beach head."

[Old Tyrannia]

Office of the Prime Minister
Parliamentary Palace
Nova Latium City, Old Tyrannia
18th November 2013

Vitaeus Veturius Cicurinus Asinianus ran a thin, cold finger down the margin of the document he had on his desk before him. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and looked up at the legatus emeritus stood before him- Legatus Amadeus of the Tyrannian Imperial High Command, a soldier's soldier who cut an intimidating figure lit only by the dim light in the Prime Minister's office. By contrast, Asinianus was a frail-looking figure, positively thanatoid; still relatively handsome, but with a more worn face, his cheekbones prominent, and a streak of grey developing in his hair. The stress of being Prime Minister, and Leader of the six million strong Imperial Fascist Party.

"This makes for unsettling reading, legatus."

"Sic, Caput Imperii. It sounds as if the Vastian "Supreme Chairman" has already lost all faith in his own survival- not an encouraging sign. I'm afraid, sir, that I must rush your decision. The Kaiser of Prussia-Steinbach and the German Empire has called an ACA joint meeting in Berlin. Our ambassador there wishes to have something certain to tell him."

"Only His Majesty can declare war upon another nation. And let us not forget, we have other conflicts to attend to. Our forces in Vulkaniya are currently outnumbered by the Ruivans, the Zuye revolutionary forces are launching a new offensive, there's trouble on the Veneto-Martilian border..."

"There's always trouble along the Veneto-Martilian border. But yes, I see your point. Still, if this is a joint Anti-Communist Alliance operation... Legatus, the 215th Imperial Legion has already been mobilized, has it not?"

"Yes, sir. In case it is needed in Vulkaniya."

"Excellent. I shall speak to the Emperor about reassigning the 215th to the Vast Dominion. Order the 12th Armoured Auxiliary to be mobilized as well, legatus."

"Sic, domine." Amadeus performed a Roman salute, then turned and marched out of the office. Stifling a yawn, Cicurinus Asinianus turned his attention to the shiny black phone sat on his desk. He reached out a hand to clutch it and apprehensively held it to his ear, listening as the gruff, ex-military secretary on the other end of the line asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Put me through to the Imperial Palace, please."

---

Imperial Palace
Nova Latium City, Old Tyrannia
18th November 2013

The clear silence of the night was shattered by the phone's shrill ringing. Emperor Gaius Romulus IV grumbled and reached out for the light switch on the lamp next to his bed. Climbing out of the bed he slipped on his dressing gown, then picked up the phone and carried it over to the window, looking out at the brightly lit city spreading out before him.

"I apologise for waking you, Your Imperial Majesty," the secretary said, her voice anxious; the Emperor, used to being awakened by urgent phonecalls in the middle of the night, merely mumbled his acceptance of the young girl's apology, and asked what was wrong. She replied, "The Prime Minister wanted to speak to you; he insists that it is absolutely urgent."

"I trust he would not interrupt my sleep if it were not. Please have a cup of tea taken up to my room, Lucia. Russian Caravan, please, and hot. And put me through to my Prime Minister."

"Domine," she replied. Moments later the Prime Minister's voice on the other end of the line, weary and anxious sounding, said, "Your Most August Majesty... Please forgive my impudence, but an affair of great importance requiring your Majesty's immediate attention has come up."

"It's quite alright, Vitaeus. What is it you wanted?"

"Sire," the Prime Minister replied, his voice grateful, "we have received an emergency communique from the Vast Dominion, one of the Anti-Communist Alliance's larger members. They are suffering a communist insurrection of unfortunate proportions. The leader of the Dominion, their Supreme Chairman, appeared to fear for his own life. Kaiser Steinbach has summoned an emergency ACA meeting in Berlin and our representative wants to have something to tell him, so we're pressed for time. I would advise deploying the 215th Legion and 12th Armoured Auxiliary to the Dominion to aid in the ACA counter-operation. The 215th is already on standby for deployment in Vulkaniya."

"Can we spare the troops? Not to mention the naval escort necessary to transport them. Most of our strike forces are en route to Vulkaniya, and we can't afford to draw ships away from the Adriatic or the Pacific."

"We can spare one legion, Your Majesty. As for the naval forces, I was thinking that as this is an ACA joint operation, our good friends in Berlin and Sturmgeist would be willing to provide our troopships with an escort to the Dominion. We can requisition some commercial cruise liners to carry troops anyway, sire. And we already have a converted Spinosaurus-class transport available to carry the 12th Armoured Auxiliary. With Your Majesty's permission, I will have our diplomat in Berlin request the German Empire's assistance in safely ferrying our forces to the Vast Dominion. I am sure they will not mind. Indeed, they will likely be grateful for the Empire's intervention, considering how rarely we directly involve ourselves in the Alliance's affairs unless requested to do so."

"Yes, I should imagine the Kaiser would be glad to have our support. It would certainly help strengthen ties, especially ahead of Julius' marriage... Very well. You have my verbal approval..."

The Emperor was interrupted by his secretary, who entered and reverently lowered the ornate cup containing his tea onto the bedside table. She bowed and was dismissed with a handwave and reassuring smile from the Emperor, who glided over to the table and picked up the cup, sighing as the smoky fragrance of the tea filled his nostrils. Returning to the conversation as he moved back to the window, he went on, "and if you send up a written order in the morning, I shall sign it for you. My apologies; my secretary just delivered my tea."

"Don't let me keep you, sire. I am sure you want to finish your drink and return to bed. I will carry out your Augustness' orders... And thank you, Your Majesty. For your time. And your support."

"Begone, man," Gaius replied. "You have work to do."

"Your Imperial Majesty."

The Prime Minister hung up. The Emperor looked out at his glittering domain, sweeping his eyes over the extensive moonlit gardens of the Imperial Palace, the lazy River Vitae as it oozed by, the stars reflected as shimmering lanterns in its depths, and the dark buildings of the Empire's capital lit up by a thousand lights. He sipped the tea, and quietly reflected in the tranquil solitude of his vast, silent bedchamber.

---

Anti-Communism Alliance Central Administration Building
Berlin, German Empire
19th November 2013

Ludovicus Tarpeius Calvus, Tyrannian Ambassador to the German Empire and His Tyrannic Majesty's Representative to the Anti-Communist Alliance, was 46 years of age and despite his wiry frame and horn-rimmed glasses, a former legatus of the 119th Imperial Legion. He was also the third son of a Tyrannian count, or comes, and therefore entitled to be addressed as Lord Calvus in English, although Tyrannians didn't go in for titles in a big way except with respect to the Imperial Family. He preferred to be addressed as legatus or general, as most of the other delegates would know due to his long service as the Emperor's mouthpiece at ACA HQ. He knew, and liked, Angelika despite the fact that the Tyrannians were generally more suspicious of their Nachfolgian allies than the Prussians- mainly because Nachfolgia was not a monarchy, and because of the Empire's troubled history with National Socialism. Ludovicus clapped unsarcastically as the young captain finished her speech.

"An impressive speech, madam. Certainly the socialist low-lives have reason to fear the Nachfolgian Reich," Ludovicus said as he rose to his feet, indicating he was about to make a statement. "But Nachfolgia and the German Empire will not need to suppress this rebellion unaided. In his infinite wisdom, His Imperial Majesty, my lord and master, has seen fit to approve Prime Minister V. Cicurinus Asinianus' proposal to send an Imperial Legion of 100,000 men, plus a supporting armoured auxiliary, to Chernobl to support the Vast Dominion against the uprising. I am sure you will find the support of our holy might welcome, when the time comes to face the horde. However the Empire has a favour to ask of its comrades. As most of our available naval strength is tied up in wars elsewhere spreading the light of Tyrannian civilization to barbarian realms, the Empire would appreciate it if the ACA's other powers could provide an escort for our troopships. We would be happy to organize a convenient rendezvous point for our taskforces within Tyrannian territory, en route to the Vast Dominion.

"Providing this can be arranged, I am sure our forces will be able to demonstrate both the might and great spirit of cooperation that our alliance embodies." Ludovicus took his seat once more.

---

215th Imperial Legion
- 100,000 imperial legionaries

12th Armoured Auxiliary
- 215 FV432 armoured personnel carriers
- 115 Imperial Panther II Tanks
- 75 Type 44 Anti-Aircraft Cannons

[Eastern Char]

Palace of the Supreme Chancellor, Drachma, The Dominion of Eastern Char, November 19th 7:46PM

---

Eastern Char

Office of the Supreme Chancellor

---

To: All Applicable Entities of the Anti-Communism Alliance
From: The Supreme Chancellor of the Dominion of Eastern Char, Andrei Nikoli
Date: November 19th, 2013

---

I would like to introduce myself to start off, I am Andrei Nikoli, Supreme Chancellor of the Dominion of Eastern Char. I am sure that at this time many of you have come to realize that the problem in the Vast Dominion is no longer ignorable. I am referring, of course, to the communist uprising that has been allowed to take root in such a prosperous and progressive nation. I am sending this message personally to you to ensure that my nation’s objective in the matter is clear. The Dominion of Eastern Char has deployed and will continue to deploy more forces to the Vast Dominion. Although Eastern Char is not a member of the Anti-Communism Alliance, our goals in respect to our mission in the Vast Dominion would seem to overlap. Thus, I hope that we can work together in the coming days to build a relationship of mutual cooperation so that we can crush the communist insurrection within the Vast Dominion. Upon receiving your response regarding the situation, we will communicate with our forward commanders and update them of the situation. I look forward to your answer within the coming days.

Sincerely,
Andrei Nikoli

---

Andrei Nikoli had just finished reading over the final draft of the letter that was to be sent to the Anti-Communism Alliance. He watched the ink dry slowly and then pushed a button on his phone.

“Sasha, come up here, I need you to take this letter and send it to the Anti-Communism Alliance’s headquarters in the German Empire as fast as possible.”

“Yes sir, I shall be there immediately.”

Andrei Nikoli pushed the button again and reached for a crystal bottle filled with brandy. He poured himself some and leaned back in his chair. “I wonder how Catherine is doing in boarding school,” he thought to himself. Catherine, being his only child, was to inherit his fortune and company. Assuming that The Nikoli Group continued to be the largest corporation in the country this means she would also become the next Supreme Chancellor of the Dominion of Eastern Char. Unlike himself though who came from a relatively modest background he hoped that Catherine would grow up to be a fine lady. One who would be able to navigate the intricacies of politics and business.

A knock came from the door.

“Come in.”

“I am here to take the letter you wish to be sent off sir,” replied his secretary.

“Yes, yes, take the letter already, this entire business is giving me a headache, make sure that it is sent off immediately. I’m going to bed.”

His assistant got the letter and scurried out of the room. Andrei Nikoli turned towards the massive window with brandy in hand and looked upon the Drachma skyline. “Maybe I should retire,” he said to himself laughing it off instantly. He shook his head, stood up and walked off towards his chambers.