A World Apart 1949 (USSR RP, IC)

[Intresha]

Redacted

[Intresha]

Redacted.

[Insurgia]

Suhl, The United Provinces of Verkoft, Abathon
Ministry of Justice
May 13th, 1949
11:32 AM

Hundreds of MP's stood guard around the large building, evenly spaced out and armed with all sorts of weapons. In contrast to the neighboring brigade, their uniforms looked as clean as ever. Several Insurgian supply convoys rolled by the building, probably en route to provide medical supplies. Overhead, several B-17's roared through the sky, their mission unrelated and unnoticed by the soldiers below. The country and the soldiers present were not phased by the sounds. It was all they had known for the past decade. The 16th MP Brigade stood guard inside and outside. Allied Tribunal was underway inside the building. Today's sentencing revolved around four hot shot generals supposedly being charged with genocide. Those were the rumors anyway. As much as the MP's wanted to rip them up, they were actually under orders to defend them from such violence to receive the proper sentence.

Across the way, the 45th Ranger Brigade waited quietly. Their mission, in conjunction to the 16th's, was to keep the peace inside Verkoft (really just Suhl) and if the need would arise be deployed to the north. Despite the war being over, there was still much violence left to go around. Intresha was proof of that. The tensions between Verkoft and Northern Ahrlund were at a near tipping-point. Brigadier General McKenna, formerly Colonel, stood over a large table inside the makeshift command tent. He quietly made mapping adjustments over the political map of the city of Suhl, moving miniature models around on the map, probably markers of where the five battalions were located.

A lone officer paced to the tent, his uniform freshly ironed and starched. He subtly stepped within the grounds of the tent, coming to attention and rendering a salute. McKenna looked over, returning the salute.

"Congratulations on your promotion, McKenna." the officer paced to the other side of the table, examining the Generals' movements.

"Yes yes...you missed the ceremony yesterday..." McKenna did his best to keep the conversation going, fiddling with the miniature models like a toddler.

"Apologies...duty calls." the officer returned, his two silver oak leafs glistened on both shoulder epaulettes.

"You don't need to apologize to me for doing your job, Travis...how's the 48th holdin' up?" McKenna broke his gaze from the table and to his subordinate.

"Boys are ready to go home, sir." the Lieutenant Colonel responded.

A young Lieutenant approached the table, handing McKenna a small packet and whispering in his ear. McKenna quickly skimmed through the packet.

"Yes, well...aren't we all?" McKenna responded.

There was a brief silence between them. Travis was fidgety in his interior for some kind of news. McKenna continued through the packet, lifting his thumb to his mouth in concentration. The silence got the best of him, breaking his concentration ironically. He looked to his subordinate.

"You can request leave, John." McKenna suggested, cracking a smile.

"We're not going home anytime soon..." Travis figured it out.

"Quite the opposite...received the orders this morning...once these trials are over, we're being deployed to the border." McKenna relayed.

"The Ahrlundish...surely they haven't shown-"

"No no. They haven't made advances. But with tensions as high as they are right now...Allied HiComm wants a show of force...perhaps it'll discourage them. Get it through their head that the war is over..." McKenna put the packet down.

"As I said John, you can request leave. I'll gladly approve it." McKenna added.

Travis was obviously in his head, thinking it over. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sound of yelling crowds and discouraging soldiers. The two officers looked out the tent, seeing the mass of people on the steps of the Justice Building, the MP's struggling to hold them back. In the middle of it all stood a relic. A uniformed Marathonnian General. Three MP's did their best to encompass him from the crowds. Three shots rang out. The crowd was quickly dispersed with loud screams. Four MP's tackled what appeared to be a female with a handgun of sorts. Two other MP's were seen standing over the body of the now deceased General, checking his vitals. They called for a medic. McKenna and Travis looked back to one another.

"It really is all falling apart." McKenna noted.

[Intresha]

Redacted

[Arkham Nation]

Limewick, The Parliamentary Republic of Arkham Nation, Vaudus
Historic District, The Peppermint Hotel
May 13th, 1949
8:05 AM

Nelson’s eyes widened he almost thought that his sister had entered the room. But when he examined more closely it was just a young man, Nelson’s toothpick fell out of his mouth. He got up from his desk and walked over to Winston. Nelson sized the boy up and down, Winston looked a striking resemblance to his sister. He could not believe it tears almost filled his eyes but he suddenly grew angry. He threw his glass, it struck the wall shattering into pieces with bourbon splashing everywhere. He grabbed Winston by the collar lifting him off the ground, Winston struggled to free himself from Nelson’s grip.

“If it wasn’t for the Accords and my respect for Mr. Schilling I’d kill you and everyone you ever loved. I don’t care who you are or what your story is, now get the hell out of my office!” Nelson said throwing Winston to the ground. Nelson straightened his hair and turned around and sat at his desk. “If that is all Mr. Schilling, suggest you leave as well. Oh and the room is on me.”

Limewick, The Parliamentary Republic of Arkham Nation, Vaudus
Metropolitan District, 1st Division Police Station, Interrogation Room
May 13th, 1949
11:00 AM

Trevor and Tommy walked into the interrogation room a officer stood against wall on the opposite side of the door. The fluorescent lights were a bit dim and a few flies and moths flew danced around them. In the middle of the room sat the manager, handcuffed to the metal table fidgeting around.

“Here he is O’Driscoll,” Tommy said as Trevor sat down in front of the manager. Tommy walked around the table and put his hand on the manager’s shoulder. “Helltho you’th thed thyou wanthed to th’alk, well your th’ere th’so th’alk.” Trevor said to the manager exaggerating his tongue as he did so. The manager’s face grew red and he tried to lift his hands from the table. Tommy laughed then went to the corner of the room and lit a cigarette.

“Don’t mind him, what did you want to say to us?” Trevor began, he pulled out his little notebook and a pencil.

“First I want to be put in witness protection.” The manager said struggling to talk.

“You have my word, but only if you tell us everything and that it is the truth.”

“I only started working as the manager a few month ago. A bunch of crates of guns came into Limewick on trains but this was different. We usually pick up rifles, machine guns, and pistols but then the heavy duty weapons came in. Flamethrowers, rocket launchers, and grenade launchers all came flowing in crates.”

“Do you have a sort of log that validates this?”

“Yes I stole it and then he took it.” The manager pointed at Tommy who was looking at himself in the window. “When my boss heard you lot came, he thought I talked so they cut my tongue out.” The manager opened his mouth to show he didn’t have a tongue, Tommy clicked his tongue a couple times.

“Where did these crates come from?” Trevor asked inquisitively.

“Insurgia.” The manager responded.

“We have everything we need let’s go.” Tommy said throwing his cigarette on the ground and leaving the room.

“Wait!” Trevor said running after Tommy. Trevor came out of the interrogation room to see Tommy getting handed a piece of paper. “What about the manager? What’s that?”

“Gosh O’Driscoll you ask so many questions,” Tommy moaned then held up a piece of paper, “this is a search warrant for the freight station and what about the manager?”

“Shouldn’t we figure out who he is working for and put him in witness protection?”

“We already know who he is working for, it’s Nelson Slezov.”

“But who is giving Slezov the guns? And what or who are the guns for?”

“Go ask him your questions, meet me at the freight station.” Tommy said turning away and put his hat on. He climbed up onto a policeman’s desk, [i]“Alright everyone listen up, we got a warrant to search the T&L Railway Company Freight Station in the industrial district. Expect resistance so let’s load up and move out!” He jumped off the desk. Trevor sighed and turned around then went to a police officer who was readying up.

“You! I need you and the police officer in the interrogation room to keep watch on the key witness.” Trevor said wanting to go see what Tommy would find at the freight station. The officers face frowned in disappointment then his face turned to confusion.

“Umm sir it was just you and Inspector MacGuire in the interrogation room.” The officer chuckled with confusion.

“But that’s impossible there was an officer in there.” Trevor said. Both Trevor’s and the officer’s faces turned to shock as they ran to the interrogation room. Trevor burst into to room and saw the manager uncuffed laying face down on the floor. The officer was in the room with Trevor and Tommy no where in site. Trevor ran over to the manager as the officer who had followed Trevor in, ran to go get some help. Trevor turned the manager over to see that the manager’s face was purple and white foam was coming out of his mouth. Trevor swore a few times to himself, he had promised to keep the manager safe. The manager was dead along with any hope for having him as a witness.

[Insurgia]

Limewick, The Parliamentary Republic of Arkham Nation, Vaudus
Historic District, The Peppermint Hotel
May 13th, 1949
8:10 AM

After the near death experience and the tipping of hats, the two Martinet members make it promptly to their room. The young Winston seemed a little shaken.

"It isn't your fault. Nelson has a thick history. An emotional one at that. In time, he'll come around to call you his relative." Theophilus locked the door, walking over to the bed, falling back-first onto it.

"What's the plan until then?" Winston asked.

"Plan?" Schilling responded.

"Yeah...the plan...surely you didn't squander-" the young Slezov pondered.

"What I squander is completely my business my young Slezov friend. Relax young Winston. The plan is to appropriately retreat to our bitter-sweet weekend here in Vaudus. Enjoy it." the older man star-fished the bed.

Winston sat over by the window, gazing out onto the city streets.

[Insurgia]

Norbrisk, The Intreshan State, Abathon
The Docks
May 30th, 1949
1:23 AM

Despite the sanctions of international trade, especially with the newly established Intreshan State, a freighter with goods was nearly always welcome to port customs. For the right price anyway. Whatever was being hauled was searched thoroughly for the most part and those who conducted the search were paid a hefty penny for the inconvenience. Who else would want to go through a boats cargo at nearly two in the morning? While also being effective at doing so. Not many. The SS Bereska pulled into port at around 1:15, immediately setting up for the unloading and search of their cargo and validation of their manifest. The nearest officer of authority that was posted quickly dispatched himself to the docks, a handful of other officers joined.

Theophilus stepped down from the ships wooden ramp, spotting the port officer and being spotted as well. He dressed himself rather casually. An old worn leather nautical hat sat atop his head. He sported a dark five o' clock shadow and a worn leather coat over his cotton button ups. Overall, the Martinet was in complete contrast to his usual appearances. Anyone lucky enough to make his acquaintance now would be under the impression that he was indeed only a steam ship captain and nothing more. The port officer met him halfway after the Martinet made his way off the ramp.

"Good morning, Officer." Theophilus stated, his accent unmistakable.

"It is a morning." the officer responded.

"Manifest?" the officer asked quickly.

Theophilus quickly handed over the large clipboard with several pages stacked on it. The officer read through them.

"You know the drill, Mr. Schilling...my men will conduct a thorough search of your cargo and anything not passed will be confiscated or returned to your ship. Do you understand?" the officer was rather blunt in his tone.

"Yes yes. Very well." Theophilus was in full compliance.

"If there are any hints of unlawful cargo or merchandise, the cargo and your ship will be immediately grounded and confiscated. Do you understand that as well, sir?" the officer further asked.

"I do." Theophilus responded.

"Good. Very good..." the officer rummaged through the manifest.

It wasn't before long that the officer reached the last page of the manifest, the signature page. He saw a hint of dark grey paper stuck in between the signature page and the previous pages. A large stack of grey bills. The officer adjusted his grip, taking the stack of bills from the manifest and setting them on top. He counted them briefly from top to bottom as if they were a deck of cards that needed shuffling. All $100's by the looks of them. A hefty bargain. The officer looked up, locking eyes with the Martinet who had never ceased his eye contact to begin with and seemed even more so resolute without blinking. Whatever cargo that was being carried was desperate to get in. The officer looked around nonchalantly before pocketing the bills.

"Mister Schilling, that will be all for your cargo search...you're free to transport further." the officer spoke.

The Intreshan quickly signed the manifest, handing it back over.

"Much obliged." the Marathonnian responded.

The two parted ways rather quickly. Schilling was quick to aid and supervise his 'crew'. The officer whistled to his fellow subordinates, dismissing them immediately. The crew of the Bereska set off into the night, delivering their cargo to several spots throughout the city. Weapons and ammunition were the key components of the cargo. As a gift, the Insurgians also packed cigars, food and medical kits. Explosive equipment was a rare sight and only delivered to certain spots. If there was any sort of Insurgian aid or intervention into the Intreshan Civil War, official or otherwise, this would be it.

[Arkham Nation]

Limewick, The Parliamentary Republic of Arkham Nation, Vaudus
Industrial District, T&L Railway Company Freight Station
May 13th, 1949
12:00 PM

“Lets move!” Tommy said getting out the car with a shotgun. Trucks that were behind Trevor and Tommy’s car unloaded police officers dressed as if they were going to war. Trevor shook a bit and his hand started to tremble slightly. Trevor massaged his hands and took a deep breath as he got out of the car. The same two guards were at the gate, Trevor began to wonder if they ever left the front gate. The two guards looked nervous and looked at each other contemplating what to do. “Well well well look who it is, how’s your throat?” Tommy asked sarcastically as they approached the two guards.

“We’re not letting you in without a warrant and this time you won’t convince me.” The guard said holding up his gun.

“We have a warrant to search the place, I suggest you put the gun down or there will be trouble.” Trevor said putting his hand near his pistol and put his other hand out to give the search warrant to the guard. The guard took it and read it carefully, after he read it he looked up at the squad of police behind the two detectives.

“Fine.” The guard angrily said as he opened the gate. The squad of police rushed into the freight station, workers looked up looking confused or angry about the police disturbing their work. Trevor and Tommy rushed for the manager’s office to look for the ledger. They burst into the manager’s office to see that the new manager was trying to burn the ledger. Tommy rushed the manager and tackled him to the floor. The ledger flew out of the new manager’s hands to the floor still being burned. As Tommy was putting handcuffs on the struggling manager, Trevor picked up the carpet in the middle of the room and covered the ledger with the carpet. The flames ceased as Trevor patted them out, leaving only some pages of the ledger burned beyond recognition. Tommy got off the floor wheezing and cursing the manager out for making him have to use force.

“Maybe you should get a new hobby fatty!” The manager shouted on the floor.

“Well your gonna need a new hobby as well.” Tommy laughed. Suddenly Tommy stomped on the manager’s right hand repeatedly. Trevor winced every time Tommy would stomp on the hand which produced a cracking sound. Trevor ran over and pulled Tommy away from the manager who was sobbing on the floor. Tommy spat on the manager, then turned around and left the room.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll send someone up here to fix you up.” Trevor said picking up the manager and putting him in a chair. Trevor unlocked one of the cuffs and attached it to a pipe right next to the manager. He turned and left the office taking the ledger with him. Trevor went down to where Tommy was helping an officer open up the first crate. “Why haven’t you opened any yet?”

“Wanted you here to see all the guns were gonna find, but you took to long so we were about to start.” Tommy said pushing down on the crowbar. The lid popped off exposing nothing but bread and wheat. Confused Tommy rummaged around the box seeing nothing even resembling a gun. He looked up to see the workers were smiling and laughing to themselves as if they played a prank on the officers. “Tear this place apart! Look under every nook and cranny! Inspect every crack and hill! Search the trains! Find those guns!” The officers searched the other boxes from Insurgia which either had wheat, grapes, or wine in them. Tommy reached inside one of the crates and pulled out a wine which did not look like the others. Tommy read the label which made his face twirl into rage.

He handed the bottle to Trevor, who took it and read it out loud, “Enjoy fellas you need it.” It was not signed by anyone and who ever wrote it knew they would have plenty of time to move the guns. Trevor looked up to see Tommy chugging down another bottle of wine from the box. From behind Trevor he heard some commotion and when he turned some officers and workers were arguing with each other. Trevor and Tommy walked over to see what was wrong and they saw one of the officers pulling a young woman away from an exit door.

“This woman was trying to sneak away Detective.” One of the officers said to Tommy.

“Let the young woman go! She just got lost and she’s not trying to escape! A worker shouted at the officer holding the woman. The woman was struggling to free herself from the officers grasp. All the workers began to shout and get closer and closer to the officer and the two detectives.

“Back up!” Another officer said running up to block the workers from getting closer. Trevor had never seen this officer around so he guessed the officer was a rookie. More officers were coming up trying to push back the workers, one of the officers pushed too hard and the worker fell on the ground knocking him unconscious. It had seemed time had stopped for a moment, every thing was still and silent. The workers looked at the officers then at the unconscious worker then at the officers again.

“Are we just gonna sit here and take any more pushes from these monsters?” A worker from the back said coming up and dragging the unconscious worker away. Everyone yelled no then charged forward at the officers. Some officers took out their batons and started beating the workers. In all this chaos there was a gunshot and everyone stopped fighting to look where the gunshot came from. The rookie cop was standing there with his pistol still pointing it, the rookie had shot the woman on accident.

“Oh shi—” Before Tommy could finish, the guards came in and started shooting the officers. Workers scrambled either to fight some more or run away from the scene. “TAKE COVER!” Tommy shouted hinting behind one of the crates. The woman sunk to the floor and Trevor rushed over to her to catch her. She fell on the ground bleeding badly from her chest, Trevor tried to remain focused on helping the woman but seeing the blood and hearing the gunshots made his heart pump faster and faster. He put pressure on the wound as he trembled and looked all around, he was beginning to see his recurring nightmare. Suddenly he was no longer at the freight station, all he saw was on the battlefield. From behind him he could hear his commanding officer shout at him but it was drowned out by gunfire. “O’DRISCOLL!” Trevor snapped out of his trance and looked behind him. Tommy was firing his shotgun at advancing guards who were getting closer to them. “GET HER OUT OF HERE! AND DON’T GET BLOOD ON THE SEATS!” Trevor shook his head and when Tommy was turned around he got out his pills and took some. He began to calm down a bit as he lifted up the bloodied woman and took her out the emergency exit and they quickly went towards the car. From behind them, Trevor heard Tommy shout, “Congratulations Rookie, you just started a civil war!”

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Capitol District
May 13th, 1949
1:33 PM

The elegantly designed house chamber was christened with marble and golden banners bearing the Toriddian seal. Deep red carpet ranged every square inch of the floor with highly polished wooden tables and chairs. Thirty-four men were present on the floor. Thirty-three of whom belonged to the Committee, the Upper House of the State Legislature. Sitting alone at his own detailed desk, a middle-aged President Elect awaited. Henry Lawrence served 22 years as a Commander before being elected by the Council to serve as their representative in the executive arm of government. While the Council had their man, the Committee waited for theirs. The President Select, Theseus Waller, was a seasoned veteran of politics and warfare in itself. President Waller had seen combat in the Second Verdunese War and served as a military advisor to allied leaders during the Great War. The Committee knew he didn't like to make commutes but something such as this would be an exception, or such was expected. He was three minutes late.

The room remained quiet while all the Committee members looked at one another, some breaking the silence.

The golden double doors were pulled open simultaneously by the guards on the other side, revealing Waller himself. He steps right foot first into the House chamber. Everyone inside stands at attention.

"No need gentlemen...let's make this quick, yes?" Waller paces to his desk which runs parallel to the President Elect.

The Committee sits down, relaxing as their man takes his own seat, adjusting himself. Waller goes for his briefcase, opening it up on the desk. He takes out several packets, dressing them neatly on his desk before setting the briefcase aside. He centers the papers in front of him, reading them.

"Proposition. Begin drafts of economic and military diplomacy with the Intreshan Sta—who wrote this?" Waller looks up at the Committee, glancing over at Lawrence who returns an eye-roll.

No one speaks up.

"No matter, it's written here...proposition noted Commander Hartwell." Waller glances at the grey suited man.

Waller shuffled to the next packet.

"Proposition. Develop a fake "Verdunese terror campaign" in the city of Ilyead which may include the deaths of faithful Toriddians to which the means to the end being the public support of an invasion of Verdun...Commander Ulysses...surely you have an explanation for this?" Waller examined the grey bearded man who sat about three rows up.

Ulysses stood.

"If I may, Mr. President...the People's Republic of Verdun have posed a threat to our society more than once. Our armaments industry is at all-time high. Our tight borders are constricting our population to smaller living conditions...our resources Mr. President are—" Commander Ulysses is cut off.

"Yes yes, I know all about the wheat, Commander Ulysses..." Waller speaks, examining the rest of the Committee for their reactions.

"Mr. President, we must act if Torrid is to survive." Ulysses finishes.

The Committee grumbles about their opinions. President Waller looks to his left, making eye contact with President Lawrence.

"What is your input on this, Henry?" Waller asks Lawrence.

There a second of thought put into his response.

"The Allies...are too busy picking up after themselves. The Insurgians are too busy with the Marathonnian rump states...the Arkians don't care. At least not until Insurgia calls for their aid. Karaq is no longer a problem...our only issue remains to our newest neighbor. Which brings us full circle to the previous proposition, what are we to do about the Intreshans?" Lawrence asks.

The Committee talks among one another.

"Let's wrap this up with two then...all in favor of extending a hand to the nearby Intreshans...raise your right..." President Waller demands.

Lawrence counts the votes.

"All in favor of unleashing His wraith upon our enemies for their trespasses against the Republic?" President Lawrence follows suit.

Waller examines the room, counting out the votes.

"It is settled then. House dismissed." President Waller stands. The room stands.

In weeks time, the terror campaign would begin under direct orders from the President Select. The next day, a letter sealed with the Toriddian mark would be mailed to Antarsk, addressed to the Vozhd himself.

[Arkham Nation]

Limewick, The Parliamentary Republic of Arkham Nation, Vaudus
Metropolitan District, 1st Division Police Station
May 13th, 1949
7:00 PM

Riots have been going on all afternoon, a large mass of protesters gathered in front of the police station. A wall of riot police defended the protesters from entering the building. The protesters built a small platform in front of the building in quickly and made their own wall around it to keep the police from tearing it down. Several speakers went up on the platform all afternoon and had encouraged the crowd to storm the police station.

The commissioner looked down out the window at the protesters banging on the riot shields below. Tommy and Trevor stood behind him smoking cigarettes while the was commissioner smoking a cigar. The commissioner was a small, fat man with a bald spot on the back of his head. He had mutton chop sideburns and wore large rectangular glasses, which enlarged his eyes a bit. Tommy looked absolutely calm and Trevor was pacing around still having blood from the woman on his coat. The rookie was sat in a chair smoking heavily on a cigarette and shaking all over. “Guess it’s too late to ask for a raise?” Tommy said breaking the silence. Everyone turned to face Tommy, all with angry expressions on their faces the commissioner most of all.

“What are we going to do now commissioner?” Trevor asked trying to distract the commissioner from tearing Tommy apart.

“I have contacted the Taoiseach and he has detached the 43rd infantry to quell the unrest in the city.” The commissioner responded in his raspy voice.

“Sir with all do respect this is no unrest, is a rebellion not just in the city but all over Arkham. This is a national emerge—”

“With all do respect detective,” the commissioner interrupted, “I shouldn’t think a vice detective concerned with national security issues.” Trevor was about to object when Tommy put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. Trevor looked up at Tommy who shook his head sort of telling him it’s pointless to argue.

The ground began to shake and a Pangolin VII came around a street corner. “Finally, the calvary has arrived.” The commissioner snorted. The crowd began to make a path for the tank looking sort of frightened but they stood their ground. The tank came to a slow stop in front of the platform and the hatch opened. Trevor looked over at the commissioner who had a smug smile on his face. To everyone’s surprise a tall man with spiky blond hair popped his head out of the hatch. “What is this?” The commissioner snarled. The man climbed out of the tank and stood atop it looking down at the crowd of people who stood there in silence. Trevor noticed he had two different eye colors, he noticed this because one eye’s color was very light blue. Trevor the man looked familiar to him but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Commissioner,” Tommy said getting close to the other window, “look behind the tank.” The commissioner stood on his tippy toes and from behind the tank was a small group of militiamen.

“On the roofs.” The rookie said getting up from his seat and went next to the commissioner. They looked up on the roofs to see more militiamen getting into cover positions.

“We need to get ready for a fight. I’ll have the men suit up and load up, sir.” Tommy said to the commissioner.

“No, the 43rd should be here any moment now.” The commissioner hesitated to say.

“Commissioner we are about to be attacked by terrorists, we need to protect ourselves and whoever else they will be targeting.” Tommy responded

“Fine, get the word out to all stations in the area and tell them to push these rebels back, arrest anyone you can.” The commissioner said saluting him. Tommy saluted back and ran out the door yelling for the rookie to follow him. The rookie scrambled and rushed out the door to join Tommy. Trevor was still at the window trying to figure out who the man is. “His name is Maestro.”

“What?” Trevor asked put off by what the commissioner said.

“Maestro, we don’t know his real name but that’s what the newspapers call him. He’s at the top of the ANIA’s most wanted list. Looks like he’s come out of hiding at the right time.” The commissioner said with a grunt. “He’s killed more cops in more brutal ways than the mob has. All for the common good he says.” The commissioner spat on the window. That’s where Trevor had seen him before, he noticed a wanted poster of him at several places. He cursed himself for being so blind. Trevor looked down at the finely dressed man standing on top of the tank, who was clearing his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He began talking in his heavily accented voice. “Do not be alarmed! I come here as a friend who wants to help! At 12:20pm today a lovely lady was shot by one of these so called keepers of the peace. Now up you may not know this woman but her name is Grace. Do you want to know where she is now?” A murmur went through the crowd, “she’s in the emergency room getting a bullet out of her chest. These monsters barged into a respectable sanctuary of trade and when they found nothing, they decided to take their anger out on you! The people! We’ve have seen it time and time again that these aren’t keepers of the peace but keepers of control. Brainwashing, lies, torture, and even murder those to take a step out of line. Look at them!” The crowd turned to see more police officers coming out the doors in full riot gear. Some had assault rifles and others had pellet guns but most of them had batons. “They come to shut me up from speaking my mind. That’s why you see me in those newspapers, they lie to you all. They don’t want you hearing the truth about what’s really going on in our great country. But they do not just want to shut me up they want to shut you up too!” He paused while people are shouting insults at the police officers. “They can jail us. They can shoot us. They can brainwash us. But we have something more powerful than bullets or artillery and that is our refusal, our refusal to bow to any order but our own, any institution but our own. And if.....And if they march down the streets and threaten you to give up your dream for a better tomorrow and just go home, what will you do?” He asked the crowd.

“Fight!” The crowd responded.

“And I ask you if they were to throw me in prison or shoot me, who would take up the mantle of securing that Arkham have a better tomorrow?!” He shouted.

“I will!” A man shouted.

“I will!” Another man said.

“I will!” A old woman said.

“I’ll fight to the bitter end.” A voice said. Everyone paused before there could be another I will. The man looked down from the tank to see a little girl standing in a yellow dress. He smiled and knelt down. He reached into his pocket and took out a small blue flower and handed it to her.

“My friends, this is what I call courage and bravery!” He said standing back up and pointed at her. “The road to freedom is long and hard, but like our ancestors who fought for independence for the common good we all must fight for that same common good!” The crowd cheered and started clapping. “For a better tomorrow! Ad Unitatis!” He bellowed then raised his hand and made a peace sign. Trevor could see Tommy annoyed by the speech and he ordered for the crowd to disperse. The crowd turned and started to assault the riot police shields, trying to tear them down. A shot was heard somewhere and everyone panicked. “They’re firing at you again are you just going to stand their and take it?!” The crowd turned more violent and the cops began pushing the rioters back violently. Trevor saw Tommy take is pistol out and shoot at the man on the tank. The man didn’t flinch as the bullet hit the tank right in front of where the man was standing. The militiamen started to shoot at the police from be hind the tank and from the roofs. The man turned and got back into the tank. He closed the hatch then the tank’s barrel started to move up towards where the commissioner was standing.

“Oh fu—!” The commissioner said in shock, his cigar dropped from his mouth to the ground.

“Get down!” Trevor ran and tackled the commissioner to the ground. The tank fired and blew a large hole in the police station.

[Intresha]

Narwa, The Intreshan State, Abathon
Downtown
May 27th, 1949
10:40 AM

Even the sky wept for the city of Narwa. Recently seized from the rebels by the Fourth Mechanized Brigade, to say the metropolis was worse for wear would have been the understatement of the century. The five day siege was without doubt the most gruesome and hard fought of the entire war thus far.

While State naval power laid down a constant barrage from the Rour, the Tenth Guards Tank Regiment slowly crept towards the city center. The struggle was one of houses and streets, with advances measured in blocks instead of kilometers. It was only near the end, when Lavrovist resources began to dry up did their moral too start to shrivel. Nevertheless, the foe was anything but civil in his dying hour.

Even as the B.H. Division Orel punctured enemy lines around Narwa's infamous Varstuul Cathedral, those loyal to the de jure government fought on like cornered animals. Purposefully demolished buildings crushed oncoming tank columns in seconds. Three of the eight levees that kept the city apart from the sea were also blown by anti-government forces, flooding Morozovist camps along the River Rour and vast swathes of Narwa itself. Bridges, telephone wires, and other critical peices of local infastructure were also destroyed for the purposes of stopping the State's advance.

The most tragic blood split during the battle, however, was that of the innocent. Disregarding the hundreds of thousands of noncombatants killed collaterally, many more met outright malicious ends. The only Freelance B.H. Division in attendance, Chistka proceeded to round up and hang "subversives" after friendly tanks secured the city's southern bank along the Rour. Likewise, unconfirmed reports also detailed Lavrovist war crimes as well. Multiple military and non-military personnel spoke of "Archangels" --- women and children forced by the Duchy's armies to defend the city to the last...

No more blood flowed in the ancient city's bricked streets, though. The warm summer rains and the tears of the widows had nearly washed all of that away now, and the double headed eagle flew proudly over the sacred Varstuul Cathedral.

Morozov sighed.

On both sides of the road, he watched the dour, grief stricken faces of his people. Like a living wave, each of them raised their hand to salute him as his car crawled past them. The Chistka Sergeant that sat behind him and General Solkin did not hurt their enthusiasm, with his clipboard and all. Everyone knew what became of those who didn't salute, and everyone knew who exactly was keeping score...

"See Sir, not everything is that bad. We're a step closer to capturing the rest of the Lavda Delta. The Lavrovist don't have a snowball's chance once we capture the southern oil fields." The General assured passionately, turning to face his stone faced Vozhd.

He gave a drowsy yawn, not looking away from the rain sheeted windows.

"Renspol. Norbrisk. Lubbenau Prison. Three losses, one victory, all within the span of a month. It's basic arithmetic, Alexandr. They're winning. Any more international pressure, and we're sure to break." Defeatism coated every syllable that exited his mouth.

The Freelance General gave a hesitant nod before mumbling something to the driver in broken Vas Luchian. The older gentleman handed him an envelope, sealed with the stamp of another branch of the Black Hundreds - the State Security Division. Duscha paused before cracking it open to read the contents.

"War is not about mathematics unless you make it about mathematics. Three defeats will only cost us the war if we insist on fighting in the same predictable, routine way we have been over the course of the past months." He waited to continue, as a long column of half tracks passed across the intersection in front of the motorcade.

"Which is precisely why I've flipped the board on them." He said satisfactorily, turning his attention to the envelope.

The Vozhd took his reading glasses from his coat pocket, glaring at the text through the small, circular lenses. He took an intermission halfway through, looking up at his advisor.

"Toridd? What the hell could Toridd do for us?" He asked curtly, looking over his glasses.

"We both have something the other wants. We have the manpower to help in a future invasion of Verdun. Likewise, they have the potential to open a second front against Lavrov. on the southwestern coast. With them as anvil and us as the hammer, we couldn't be defeated. " Explained Alexandr.

For the first time in weeks, a smile broke across Duscha Morozov's face.

"Charter my plane for a connecting flight at Suhl, then to Alta." He commanded, confidence restored to his general demeanor.

Somewhat off put by the outgoing embrace of his plan, Solkin responded.

"Sir, I'm sure Trade Minister Anatol would be happy to assist in such tedious matters.

"No. I wont have some paper pusher fuck this up too. Charter the damn-" Ringing ripped through the Vozhd's ears as the world behind him lit up in a fiery pillar.

Chistka soldiers broke ranks and ran from the scene while the motorcade sped down the nearly empty stretch of road. Nearby pedestrians screeched and ran in the opposite direction. Anyone within a twenty foot radius to the explosion would have certainly been killed.

Inside the car, the chaos was no less real. Alexandr failed at gathering his wits while the driver visibly shook in his seat. The most shell shocked one in the car, however, was supposed to be the one with the most military expertise and experience.

"SIR, ARE YOU INJURED?" Frantically asked the Sergeant from the backseat.

Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, he locked eyes with the boy.

"Charter the plane. I leave tomorrow morning."

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Capitol District
May 28th, 1949
8:44 AM

The round table was especially quiet this morning. Henry Lawrence was going over his packets, reading over the briefings posted the night before. The Committee before him watched quietly, some discussing matters quietly next to one another. Henry checked his watch, noting the time. The double doors opened as Theseus entered. Henry went back to reading the briefings.

"Good morning gentlemen, thank you for your patience." Waller greeted, taking his seat.

"You need to work on your punctuality." Henry murmured.

"And you, your respect. What have you all got for me?" Waller snapped back.

Henry was silenced. Commander Ulysses sat up straight.

"Sir, there was another attack last night. Forty-five dead, twice as many injured. Fragmentation device of some sort."

Waller sorted through the briefing packets.

"Do we have a perpetrator?" Waller asked.

"We do. Two Verdunese boys. One was killed in a shootout last night. The other is on the run. We're conducting a thorough sweep of the Northwest District." Ulysses responded.

"Commander Hartwell, how is the media taking it?" Waller asked, going through another packet.

Hartwell ceased his actions, closing his packet. He removed his glasses.

"Sir, domestic support is raunchy. The last dozen attacks have stimulated a uh...craving among our population. The Verdunese of course are...denying all of this." Hartwell responded.

There was an eerie silence as Waller approached the last detail on the packet. He read it to himself silently. It wasn't long before he closed the packet, sitting back in his chair.

"When he is due?" Waller asked.

He should be here tonight, sir." Lawrence cut in.

Waller looked among the room.

"Mobilize for Action Phase...also make sure the Vozhd is met with the appropriate escort tonight...and the appropriate household...we don't want to discourage our visitor from negotiations."

[Intresha]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
Alta International Airport
May 28th, 1949
7:47 PM

The plane encountered some turbulence upon landing, nearly throwing the aspiring dictator from his seat. His travel briefing to Toridd fell face down onto the floor. It was a peculiar, yellowed tome. If it were any older, it would probably be written in Marathonnian. The information was still of great value, though. Inside it bore witness to the culture, customs, and the attractions of the land he would soon visit. Marathonnian colonial architecture... Historical battlegrounds... Handmaids? The third struck him as somewhat odd, but it wasn't their women's modesty or lack thereof that excited Duscha Morozov. It was their armies, which he had no choice but to return home with.

As the runway rose to meet the landing gear, the Vozhd watched as the Gora men he brought with him filed into the cabin. Freshly decorated from the Norbrisk Front, these were the finest the Black Hundreds had to offer. Their Duchy-era uniforms paired with their DP-28s almost made the men anachronisms in and of themselves. The Vozhd refused to compromise for anything less, however. In spite of the insanity, the Toriddians did hold one core value in common with the new Intresha: tradition. If that meant his personal escort had to look like they just strolled in from 1820, so be it. Perhaps it would hit a shared nerve of some description.

The aircraft taxied slowly to the other end of the runway before pulling into a far-off hanger, over which hung a large dove banner. A small contingent of men stood waiting patiently for him. Bracing himself, he adjusted his tie and pulled his flask from his overcoat. Perhaps a little taste of home would keep out the chill... And with any luck, the devout lunacy of this foreign land as well.

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
Alta International Airport
May 28th, 1949
7:50 PM

The Eyes watched as the Intreshan dictator descended from the plane, surrounded by his kill squad. The Toriddian spies were just as matched with firepower but were a bit more subtle about it. A convoy of vehicles waited behind them, still running. There was a cool wind in the air. An incoming storm. It wouldn't arrive for another hour however. The Vozhd finally makes it down the steps. Among the black suits, Commander Antony steps forward, meeting the Intreshan halfway.

"Hello Vozhd Morozov. Welcome to Alta. I am Commander Antony, I'll only be with you for the drive. If you would please..." Antony expresses, opening the back door of the black Rolls-Royce Phantom IV

The Vozhd quietly entered. His men dispersed among the other cars and armed trucks. Antony enters the front seat. Morozov is granted one of his guards to sit next to him in the back.

The convoy quickly takes off into downtown Alta. A near ghost-town by now, most business hours end at 5 PM. Curfew is enforced at 8 PM. No dissent in the capitol. Zero tolerance.

"You'll be staying with High Commander Ulysses. He's a member on the Committee. To be truthful...he's actually the one who proposed this whole thing. I wonder if that was planned." his last sentence quietly fades out.

The drive is fairly short as they glide down into a downtown suburb. Beautiful houses everywhere you look. The clock hasn't even struck 8 when they quickly arrive at the grotesque demonstration of 18th century Marathonnian architecture. The house was huge and quite attractive. Unfortunately the Marathonnian vibes might've creeped out some of the Intreshan visitors. Everyone but the drivers disembark.

"The Martha's will take care of everything else." Commander Antony slid back into the cruiser. The convoy quickly disappeared off the street.

Five green clothed women exited the home. All wearing aprons and headscarves. All of them were considerably young and beautiful. All of them, barren. They made great cooks, maids, nanny's or someone to send to get groceries though. The women aided the soldiers with their gear, if they weren't shoo'd away that is. The Vozhd was given his own room. The rest of the men were given rooms with one or two bunks. High Commander Ulysses was no where to be found.

Until then, the Martha's tended to the men and cooked supper. The ultimate Toridd hospitality was under way.

[Insurgia]

Iniapolis, The Independent Republic of Insurgia, Abathon
The Presidential Palace, 1692 W. Harmony Avenue
May 29th, 1949
8:21 AM

The Insurgian President exits his room, his Secret Service agents lining every end of the hall. A steaming cup of coffee is carried in one hand, a fresh newspaper folded under his armpit. He pulls the door shut, grabbing the newspaper with his now free hand. He passes one of his agent.

"Good morning, sir."

Good morning, Andy." Kelly responds.

It seemed he was walking a little slower today. Maybe it was him being delicate with the coffee. The Presidents secretary quickly approached him.

"Sir, Secretary of State is here...and Secretary of Defense...they're both urgent, sir." she informed him, opening the door to his office.

"I got it, Stella. Thank you." he entered, the door shutting behind him.

The men already inside stood at attention. Kelly walked by them and around his desk.

"You may sit, gentlemen." Kelly took his seat, pulling the chair back first.

"Mr. President-"

"Before we begin, has anyone died?" Kelly asks.

The two Secretaries look at one another, then back at him.

"No, sir...no one has...died?"

"Alright, hit me." he sipped his coffee.

"Duscha Morozov is absent." the Secretary of State spoke firmly.

President Kelly continued sipping his coffee. Unfazed by the comment. He set the mug down, locking eyes with both of them, switching between them.

"That is odd...he has a war to fight doesn't he?" Kelly responded.

"Military intelligence...dictates he's gone abroad..." the Secretary of Defense added, handing him a manila folder.

"Morozov is on business? With whom?" Kelly asked.

"We don't know sir. It isn't good though."

Kelly quickly went through the folder, reading the contents.

Bombings in Toridd...Civil War in Intresha...Arkham Experiencing Riots for Ninth Week...Dycen and Blackwater Suspected War Crimes....

"Whole world losing it's mind..." Kelly said to himself.

He stood up, reading the documents. He looked to the two officials in front of him.

"Get some men on this Morozov thing...I also want victim and aid relief for the Arkham population...and this mess with Dycen and Blackwater...what can I do?" he looked at the Secretary of Defense.

"Without Congress...? Sir, we got the 17th Airborne and the 45th Rangers ready to saddle up. Just say that word, that's nearly 30,000 troops on the ground..."

"Alright...do it...hold a press conference. Got to give the people some justification as to why their boys aren't coming home just yet..."

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Central Capitol District
May 29th, 1949
8:30 AM

The night before showed the Intreshans to a warm and cozy dinner among women. The Martha's, although their status as servants, were very pleasant hosts. High Commander Ulysses arrived later into the night and quietly retreated to his room. If the Intreshans slept at all, they would each receive a 6 AM wake up with three knocks at each door by a Martha. Breakfast was brief. Steak and eggs for each of them, if that is what they wanted. A full meal and Toriddian hospitality. That's what Ulysses demanded of each of the women. Don't let the curtain fall, he said.

All of them were out of the house by 8:00. Ulysses accompanied the Vozhd, this time a different vehicle. A longer motorcade of sorts. The drive to the capitol building was longer. Nearly twenty minutes. They probably gained an extra eight minutes because of the checkpoints throughout the city. Security in the capitol is like nowhere else in the Republic.

8:30 on the dot, Ulysses enters with the Vozhd to an already half seated House. All the Committee members stood up, nodding, smiling or any way acknowledging the Slavic dictator. Unusual but appropriate, both President's were on time. Seated between them both, he had the whole Committee before him. The House Chamber had an overnight makeover. The curtains and banners were replaced and the carpet was shampooed. Everything about the chamber was improved. President Waller cleared his throat, looking to the Vozhd and then his Committee.

"Gentlemen, Vozhd Morozov...Commanders...you may begin negotiations." Waller sat back.

High Commander Ulysses stood up.

"Honorable Vozhd Morozov...we understand that we as two nations have something to offer each other...do you see something as well?" he asked.

The Committee watched and waited.

[Intresha]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Central Capitol District
May 29th, 1949
8:32 AM

Morozov stood alert before the assembly, calm and collected as ever. There was little to no chatter within the hall, very much unlike that of any other legislative body he had addressed before. It would be difficult to read them, for sure. The Commanders sat before him seemed monolithic, ancient even. They seemed as if they thought with one mind and spoke with one voice. Duscha supposed that was probably a positive thing, considering they purported to represent the Almighty. Regardless, it did feel a touch off-putting.

He cleared his throat, and drew his reading glasses from his sportscoat. From his left back pocket he took the Intreshan copy of his notes. Momentarily glancing up at the translator, he began.

"Blessed be the fruit!" Duscha said in decent English.

"Under his eye." The response was complete and resounding.

"First and foremost, I would like to personally thank the gentlemen of this assembly for hosting me here today. Furthermore, I would like to express my personal gratitude to Commander Ulysses for taking me into his home for the duration of my stay in Toridd. He has shown my men and I great hospitality, and has reflected only the best side of your country. He and his family bring great honor to this Republic." He paused, waiting for the translator to catch up with him.

He looked down his nose through his slender, rectangular spectacles at the paper in his hands.

"But I do speak to you today with a dire purpose. Across the sea, Intresha is in grave danger. Inside our own borders, innocents die by the hundreds of thousands at the hands of rebel forces each day. Cities burn. Orphans wander naked in the streets. Famine and disease ravish the countryside. All the while, socialist, Jews, and foreign war profiteers exploit this travesty for personal gain, undermining basic human dignity for the promise of a fistful of dollars. Like leeches they grow fat off the suffering of my lands." The Vozhd attempted to make contact with all present at least once.

The translator rattled on in English, while Morozov stood patiently.

"In this dread hour, though, there is opportunity. Opportunity to shield each other from the axis of evil that would see our nations annihilated altogether. God willing, the Lavrovist threat back home will be defeated regardless of this meeting's outcome. However, the quicker this conflict is ended, the sooner Intresha can once again become a lucrative trade partner and valuable military ally."

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as they were starting to slip down.

"What I propose, gentlemen, is a pact. Stand with us against the menace of Insurgian pseudo-imperialism, and we shall pledge to join your own crusade against bolshevism and degeneracy when the time comes.

"Destiny has linked our fates, whether we care to admit it or not. The bottom feeders of this world have already aligned themselves to destroy us. Let us show them that God's people will not so easily be subdued. Gentlemen, what I call for today is an alliance to stave off humanity's damnation... A Union... A Union of All Christendom.." The dictator concluded.

"Blessed be the fruit."

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Central Capitol District
May 29th, 1949
8:38 AM

There was an eerie silence once the translator finally finished up. A few chairs creaked. The Committee looked among one another.

"The decision..." the voice came from the end of the table farthest from Morozov.

At that distance, one could make out the roundish shape of a man standing from his chair. The Committee turn their heads to him, almost in unison. The translator snaps to.

"...has been made." the man in question was in the light now.

He was an older fellow, gray in the hair and face for the most part. The lower parts of his beard remained a little darker. Speaker of the Committee, Ezekiel Faulkner, some distant relation to the very same Faulkner family that married into the wealthy House of Morgan. The man had seen combat in the Second Verdunese War and the Great War. A few facial scars as evidence, kept him from his dream of ever having a full beard again.

"A formality really. We accept your offer. The sooner the Lavrovist threat is destroyed, the sooner we can establish...interaction between our countries on the economic level once again." Ezekiel spoke.

President Waller waited for the translator to finish.

"This is Speaker of the Committee, Ezekiel Faulkner." Waller informed the Vozhd.

"Which brings us to what really needs to be discussed...in two days time, the rest of the world will be awoken to the atrocities Toridd will have committed against her southern neighbor. We will want our armies focused and without risk of failure...this will be a drawn out war without question though. The Insurgians without a doubt will declare an Allied Emergency. There will be...war. Not against your measly rebels, either. The Insurgians, upon their legislative approval, will be able to put jets in your skies and nations on the same continent as you wouldn't care to intervene with the same men who toppled the Kaiser. You need allies, Morozov." Ezekiel spoke, pacing his words so he didn't leave the translator in the dust.

Ezekiel slowly sat back down, the chair creaking. The translator finished up. Ezekiel locked eyes with Morozov across the table.

"How many men do you need?" he asked.

[Toridd]

Northern Verdun, Montietam
443rd Shock Division, 10th Field Army
May 30th, 1949
3:42 AM

The air campaign was already unfolding. Through the thick branches of the Verdunese forest, one could see the bright flashes of light over the hills. Followed by mellow thumps and vacant booms. The Mk.1 Merkava rolled along effortlessly, leading the way for the 443rd Shock Division. A distinguished unit that served satisfactorily during the Great War. Though Allied nations may call them war criminals. They got the job done though. No matter how vicious it was. The division marched in staggered column in each side of the road, rifles outward. Their new patterned combat uniforms were designed for the wet seasons the continent experienced and were terribly needed throughout the Great War. Unfortunately they weren't introduced well until 1946 and by then, the war had already left Montietam.

"You got a cig?"

"No...smoking is bad for you."

"Right right...you're afraid of cancer?"

"No no...much bigger things to worry about."

The Shocktroopers rambled on. A sound resembling a jet engine could be faintly heard ripping through the sky.

"Holy..."

"Watch your tongue, Guardian."

Yes, Sergeant."

The sound could be determined to be that of two engines. They grew closer. Then finally roared past the division, flying flow over the hills. The Harrier's disappeared.

"They're going to fuck some serious shit up, dude."

It wasn't up to debate if that was true. The Verdunese had no jets. To think of it, they didn't even have a real tank of substance that could out-perform the Toriddians, especially now with the freshly unveiled MBT. What the Verdunese never lacked though was persistence. This was the third war after all. If there was one thing that could draw this thing out, it was persistence. The Committee was counting on that though. They will be exhausted. Then they will surrender. Six months at most. That was the time frame estimate of expected Intreshan military aid. Once the Lavrovist threat was tended to, the Verdunese could be emancipated of their sins.

It wouldn't be long for word to get out to the rest of the world. Then the sanctions will begin. Maybe some Allied intervention. Toridd was always a touchy subject for the Allies. A black box of information. A black box with power, militarily.

No one knew the interior workings of the autocracy. Only what soldiers had seen with their own eyes; the atrocities committed by the Republic's soldiers.

Click.

A mixture of metal and dirt are sent flying into the air, cutting down a handful of Shocktroopers in the process and inadvertently setting off two more.

Boom.

BOOM.

Shrapnel flies into the tank column, only bouncing off and slicing into an unlucky soldier nearby. Screams are heard, for those who aren't suffering from tinnitus. Then the gunfire. An ambush. They came from either side of the forest, LMG fire and anti-personnel mounted weapons. Big guns.

"TAKE COVER! USE THE MOUNDS AND RETURN FIRE DAMMIT!" an order was delivered, nobody was sure who from.

The remaining staggered column, having already dropped to the ground as per protocol in the event of landmines, quickly turned outward to the forest on their respective sides. They returned fire.

The Shock Division was caught off guard but they were not strangers to getting themselves out of bad situations. It wasn't long before the Merkava quickly began laying down some heavy paste with the 120mm cannon and the .50 caliber coax machine gun. The sound of the cannon forever implanted in the memories of those that would live to see another day. For some it would be the last thing they did hear. Many red and white flares were fired into the sky, lighting up the forest below.

In less than ten minutes, gunfire was reduced substantially. The worst was over; for now. It was silent. The Shocktroopers cautiously rose from their positions, peeking over into the dark woods.

"CHECK THEIR POSITIONS! CHECK THE WOUNDED!" a known Commander sounded off.

The Division quickly put themselves to action, tending to the surprise attack and recovering. A weary Sergeant holds the neck of a bleeding out soldier. Some are crying out loudly in pain. Some will not make it.

"I NEED THE MEDIC! GET ME A MEDIC NOW!" the Sergeant screams.

Another soldier dives to aid. The Sergeant grabs him by his collar with his free hand.

"GET THE MEDIC!" he orders.

"THAT IS THE MEDIC, SERGEANT!" the Shocktrooper responds.

There was a slight delay in his thought process, realizing this.

"THEN GO GET A MEDIC FROM ANOTHER COMPANY! GO!" the Sergeant ordered.

Without hesitation, the soldier sprinted off, heading down the same road they came from. Shocktroopers were quick to loot the bodies of their fallen adversaries. It wouldn't be long either till they would start getting bored and begin disfiguring the bodies. Such things were considered lessons from God. Not atrocities. That's how Toridd viewed it anyway. God demands penance. The Allies will probably demand something similar. The Division was halted until they tended for their wounded and evaluated this mine situation. Regardless, the war would carry on.

[Intresha]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Central Capitol District
May 29th, 1949
8:40 AM

Morozov considered the question for a short while, keeping his own eyes transfixed on those of Faulkner's.

"The Lavrovist have no real military intelligence, save what is spoon fed to them by their Insurgian backers. As long as you're subtle, they wont be warry of your arrival until it's too late. A southern beachhead would catch them almost entirely exposed... From there, I'm sure you and your men are all too familiar with the Marathonnian tactic of blitzkrieg." He smiled, noting their two countries shared experience with the Huns.

He reflected for a moment on what the Speaker had said previously regarding the Insurgian reaction to all of this. Surely they would be more inclined towards direct involvement than they would usually be, but that was the be expected. Perhaps the buffer states would even reject their advances through their otherwise neutral territories. It still felt too early to tell, regardless.

"State forces presently have sixteen divisions on standby in the northern half of the country, including an untouched Black Hundreds Division. We've been expecting an Insurgian military excursion into the country for some time, hence why we have so many troops away from the front lines. So, question becomes..." Morozov hesitated, somewhat uncomfortable making binding military decisions without his own Generals to consult.

"Do we send them to the northern border, or do we send them south? For the rebels, a full fledged attack with that many troops would be a death knell. For the Insurgians, however, it would be more along the lines of a nasty speedbump." He sighed, imagining the colossal disaster that would be adding a second front to an already catostrphoic war.

First allowing the translator to wrap up, the Vozhd sat.

[Toridd]

Alta, The Republic of Toridd, Montietam
House of the Committee, Central Capitol District
May 29th, 1949
8:45 AM

Faulkner leaned in, resting an arm on the table.

"With Kelly leading the Insurgians, you can almost expect an allied intervention force...it just wouldn't suit him if all he did was send in a few planes..."

There was a pause.

"Regardless, you'll get the men you need. In less than a week, the terrorists that aim to bring down your way of life will soon be faced with His wrath. An enemy of yours is an enemy of His."

There was an abrupt echo from one of the double doors being opened. A young man entered, suited black on black. One would recognize the uniform of an Eye. He kept pace straight toward the Speaker. The acoustics in the room creating an awkward silence as they all waited for the Eye to be done. The footsteps finally came to a stop as he hovered near the Speaker, leaning in to whisper. A brow shot straight up, for those who could see it. Faulkner nodded, shooing away the spy. The Committee waited.

Faulkner cleared his throat.

"President Kelly is dead."

A pen dropped.

Faulkner adjusted himself in his seat.

"Cardiac arrest." Faulkner continued.

The Committee looked among one another. President Waller looked among them.

"Praise be..." Waller murmured.

"Praise be." the echo resonated deeply within every crevice of the walls as they all replied in unison.

"May God deem us worthy..." Faulkner paced out his words, almost snake-like.

The Committee all seemed to nod at the same time. Faulkner stood up. The room fell silent.

"Session of Committee, ended." Faulkner's voice was crisp to Morozov, who was on the other side of the table.

The room once again echoed with thunderous unison.

"Under His Eye".

[Intresha]

Erlinski, The Grand Duchy of Intresha, Abathon
Asimov Palace
June 7th, 1949
6:35 PM

Lavrov’s ears rang. The clangor of the phones. The click-clacking of typewriters. The hushed yelling of half a dozen strategist debating one another. He yearned to be away from this place, even if it was on the frontlines. The War Room was not only loud, it was depressing. With Narwa fallen and large swathes of the Lavda River Delta lost, all they seemed to discuss anymore were the logistics of retreat — the tactics of failure. Long gone were the glory days of Renspol and Norbrisk. With those two under intense siege once again, it was hotly contested if they’d hold on another month. The final victory that Lavrov had dreamed of just a few days ago had simply vanished overnight.

”We need to burn the oil fields, the sooner the better! We can import from Insurgia. The State has nothing but what’s left in the strategic reserve.” One of the Generals said, finally outshouting the other five.

From his own desk on the back corner of the room, their leader observed them all. He used to participate, but his input never amounted to much. Since a near miss on his life, they no longer allowed him to lead from the front. In other words, they no longer allowed him to lead at all. Relegated to matters of civil administration, he sipped his tea and watched each day as the nation’s frontier receded further south. He despised every waking moment of it.

”Insurgia is in diplomatic free fall right now! If we’re a priority at all, we’ve suddenly fallen to the rock bottom of the list. We need to launch a counter offensive!” Another quipped back, plunging the room into another bout of yelling.

Shakily sitting his teacup down into its porcelain saucer, Lavrov spoke up.

”The weapon.” He said, too quietly for anyone to notice him speaking.

The tacticians continued their prior sparring match, paying the old man little mind.

”The weapon.” Lavrov spoke again, this time with added base in his voice.

They continued their bickering, shifting the topic of conversation from oil fields to the state of the country’s munitions plants.

”THE WEAPON.”

”What is the status of the weapon?!” He screamed himself this time, nearly winding himself in the process.

Dumbfounded, his group of advisors stared at him. It was the first time he had said anything for a week and a half. It looked as though they had just heard a mute open his mouth for the first time.

A fresh faced Colonel near the back of the table removed his hat, holding it near his chest as he responded.

”The Lübbenau quarries are still producing high yields, but we still don’t have enough enriched. It could be months, sir.” He sighed, looking at the floor.

Trembling with rage, Lavrov ground his teeth together as he spoke.

”We don’t have months. I want it no-“ The crystal chandelier that illuminated the room quivered, coinciding with a thunderous eruption outside.

”Now. I want it now. Also, did I not cancel the parades for tonight? Did someone fail to mention that we’re losing now? Which one of you inbreds signed off on those fireworks?”

A dozen smaller explosions followed the first before anyone could respond. The only sound that came from inside the room was the shuddering of the building itself. Wide eyed and concerned, all six men went quiet as the grave.

”Pardon me sir, but I do not believe those are fireworks...” A Brigadier mumbled, watching the chandelier swing to and fro.

Engulfed with righteous furry, Lavrov rose from his desk to face the window. Throwing back the curtains, his jaw nearly fell agape.

Planes. Dozens, if not hundreds of them blotted the fading horizon. It was only then did the air-raid sirens began to hound and the spotlights flickered to life.

”I guess they’ll have the fireworks after all” He chuckled incredulously at the sky.

”Bogdanov, Istomin, with me to the basement. The rest of you, spread the message to all concerned parties:”

”Finish the weapon”

[Toridd]

Erlinski, The Grand Duchy of Intresha, Abathon
25th Infantry Corps, 9th Field Army
26 Kilometers Outside City Limits
June 7th, 1949
11:42 PM

To say the landing was anti-climactic would be an understatement. The 9th Field Army landed through means of amphibious landing ships and from the air with almost no resistance. The paratroopers on board the Skytrains would even say it was unusual. After the Harrier's made their passes through the Erlinski corridor from the beach-head, anti-aircraft guns and opposing ground units were decimated. Intreshan rebels weren't known to possess jet fighters as well. The dogfights were a turkey shoot. In a little over a week, a quarter million soldiers in what is the 9th Field Army were actively deployed to the southern coastline of Intresha. It was a silent trip. While what many were calling the Third Verdunese War raged on back home, a whole week in, the 9th was tasked with silencing a rebellion charged for heresy against the Republic.

The skies roared with the sound of jet engines. The occasional rumble and concussion in the distance gave reminder that the slaughter was still happening. A convoy of Merkava Mk. 1's and BTR's rolled down the countryside. Infantry accompanied.

"You alright, Guardian?" a bass voice came from across.

The Guardian snapped to, adjusting his seat inside the BTR. A tight space, he was crammed in their with six others. God forbid they burn together when they're hit by a rocket. He looked across, acknowledging the High Commander. Joseph Bartlett held the rank of Lieutenant General. That's three stars on his uniform. Quite unusual for a first engagement. The highest rank you'll see on the front line during battle would be a Colonel or Brigadier. This was protocol. Keeps the upper echelon intact. Bartlett was not alien to disobeying the Committee, a habit that has yet to come for him. This time around, they didn't give him too much of a fuss. The man was a devout Puritan and held a remarkable military service record. As if being the Republic's leading scientist on theoretical physics also didn't add the extra push he neded, the man persuaded he superiors that his presence was necessary.

"Yes, sir." the Guardian hesitated.

"Don't overthink it. The city will be ruins by the time we get there." Bartlett suggested.

The High Commander stood up, sliding open the driver door. Little slivers of glass lined the top of the drivers frontal plating, just enough to get 180 degree peripheral view.

"Where we at?" Bartlett asked.

"We're 16 miles out, sir. Another hour at least." the driver responded.

"If you got room, give it some gas. We want to be there before dawn." Bartlett ordered.

"Yes, sir."

He slid the door shut. Grabbing the built in radio, he quickly dialed in.

"Operator. Delta-Six-Two-Echo-Niner-Bravo-Fower-Two."

There was a pause. The BTR shook mercilessly, Joseph grabbing on to the leather straps overhead. The radio blared at him. "Granted". The faint noise of plane engines. Not jet engines either. The inside crew tensed up. Bartlett remained calm, being aware of a second air campaign. The Harrier's would be recalled meanwhile a fleet of of nearly 300 B-12 bombers were on schedule to bomb southern population centers designated as rebel hot zones. Bartlett went for the driver door once more, opening it.

"They ours?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. They're heading same way we are." the driver responded.

Bartlett shut the door. He had the reassurance he needed. He held up the radio receiver to his ear, listening in and scanning the Toriddian military frequencies.

"...(static)...we got multiple bogies north of Desna...light infantry...anti-tank weapons...(static)...the Air Force sure didn't leave anything for us...(static)...ALL REPUBLIC FORCES...STAY CLEAR OF DESIGNATED HOT ZONES...BOMBING IN EFFECT...(static)..."

Bartlett continued to listen in, ignoring the ever growing sound of the bombs as they inched closer to Erlinski.

[Intresha]

Castle Desna, The Grand Duchy of Intresha, Abathon
The Courtyard
June 9th, 1949, 3:00 PM

Great war veterans. Defected Black Hundreds soldiers. Young boys and elderly men. A handful of women. They stood together in the scorching June heat, at attention before Herr Kiel.

Just as sculpted and tall as the Castle itself, he towered above half of the men under his command. Grimacing, Josiah Kiel paced between their cramped rows and columns.

In his full Panzergrenadier getup, the aging Marathonnian finally felt in control again. If nothing else, he would die in uniform, as his uncle and brother did before him. No matter how suicidal the odds, he didn’t give a damn.

When he pledged himself to President Lavrov’s cause, he recognized that the chances of victory were marginal to none. However, he knew death waited for him at the end of a Black Hundreds noose if he were to just politely hand himself over to State forces. Being Marathonnian was enough for that these days. No, he opted to fight. Even in death, he would not abide the surrender of his ancestral home.

He did not address those under his command. They couldn’t understand him and probably wouldn’t care to in the first place. It was only by the tragedy of history that they just so happened to find themselves in this position. In this dread hour, the last thing anyone wanted to do was to pretend to love their old enemies. These people didn’t fight for him, nor did he expect them to. They fought because they knew the alternative was the grave.

As he finished his rounds, one of his domestics marched in from the Main Hall. Shrouded in white and covered in blood, it was clear that she too was one of the many in his household staff that had volunteered as battlefield nurses.

”Hier, mein Herr. Es ist von Lawrow” She spoke in Marathonnian past a thinly veiled Intreshan accent.

He took the manilla folder and examined the writing on the front. It was his hand alright, albeit somewhat sloppy and rushed looking. He slid his finger under the seal, opening the document for further inspection.

”Toriddians linked with State forces in Renspol — Country bifurcated. Defeat imminent. Theatre nuclear weapons being deployed within the week. Legitimate government in transit to Insurgia. You should come too.” He picked apart the Intreshan script slowly, finally piecing its meaning together.

Puzzled, he dug towards the bottom of the package. Papers. Papers and an accompanying passport. All counterfeit, of course. The Marathonnian cursed and shoved them into his pocket. The coward had finally shown his true colors. That rat bastard was probably half way across the world by now, while those who fought for him payed the ultimate price.

Forcing a smile, Josiah Kiel looked up at the mass of soldiers staring at him. It took him a moment, but the foreign tongue wasn’t entirely lost on him.

”New’s from Erlinski! The siege of Narwa has been lifted, and reinforcements march south!” He shouted, trying his best to sound hopeful.

Cheers and jubilant shouts of approval came from the division, with additional celebration coming from the men posted on the walls. A few broke into “God Save the Tsar”, while others took out their flask. Technically, the inspection hadn’t ended yet, but Kiel didn’t care. Nobody cared.

At the very least, they’ll die happy. He reflected.

In the following hours, Castle Desna would prepare itself for the most substantial and grisly struggle in its history. Trenches, machine gun emplacements, anti-tank guns, and a host of other grim surprises would greet the foreign interlopers. The worst calamity the Guardians would face, though, was the one they had already underestimated the most. The defenders of Castle Desna.

[Toridd]

Desna, The Grand Duchy of Intresha, Abathon
11 Kilometers Outside Desna
79th Armored Corps, 9th Field Army
June 10th, 1949
3:33 AM

Three days had passed since the initial landings. Erlinski was rubble. For the most part. Resistance was fanatical. Like roaches, the remaining army ascended from their war-time shelters just as the 25th Infantry and 56th Mechanized arrived and the fighting began. It's been a few days since then. And with the 9th separated, the only real communication between the corps is kept between Field Commanders. Guardians on the ground often ponder about their comrades still fighting in Erlinski. They wonder if they'll reunite with them at the end of this. Or if one of them will draw the short straw. Perhaps both. To die in service of the Republic was a great honor. Not something to be viewed upon negatively. Although, coming home alive was the preferable route.

The Merkava Mk.1 rolled along the column, keeping distance from the BTR to its front.

Commander Raine kept himself centered in the cupola, hatch down, scanning the countryside with the mounted NVG's. It was pitch black out. The only sources of light came from the light sticks that some Guardians had attached to the rear end of their belt, to keep the staggered column from getting lost and from the nearing village of Desna. He could almost make out the silhouette of the castle in the background.

"...(static)...Commander Raine? We got a split fork up here..." a voice came over the radio.

Raine grabbed his tied walkie.

"Roger...continue straight. The 405th can take the right, straight into Desna." Raine regurgitated the orders given to him.

"...make sure you clear it with them...(static)...over."

The tank commander quickly dropped, changing the frequencies precisely. He gripped the walkie. The engine roared.

"405th, Commander Raine, 79th Armored. How copy?" he spoke to confidently.

There was slight static.

"Good copy, Commander. Go ahead." the feedback was crisp.

"79th is continuing straight. High Commander Bartlett suggests the 405th park it in Desna." Raine waited.

"...(static)...is it really a suggestion?" the voice was a little sarcastic.

"All copy. Over and out." Raine returned to the previous frequency.

High Commander Bartlett remained in Erlinski, protected by roughly 150,000 Guardians comprising of the 25th Infantry Corps, 56th Mechanized Corps and the 102nd Airborne Corps. By estimates and data, the rebels were vastly outnumbered. It didn't seem to phase the Slavs though. Intensive fighting has been on-going for almost three consecutive days and while the fleets lurked just south of the coast, flight time over the Slavic state was limited. Despite this, the Harrier's continuously ruled the skies over Erlinski.

Further west, Castle Desna stood steadfast. While the Harrier's didn't pay her much mind, the bombing campaign surely did. That of the village of Desna as well. At least, that's what the reports said. While 150,000 Guardians would attempt to exterminate the remnants of an army in Erlinski, the other half of the 9th Field Army would begin to encircle this fortress symbol of Intreshan military prowess. The tanks would unload within the hour.

"How many?" the voice of his driver came over the comms, snapping the Commander free of his thoughts.

"Come again?" Raine responded.

"How many do you think there are?"

"Not enough."