MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
09:54 HOURS
”Be ever-prepared for an enemy’s mistake. When such occurs, only the foolish Centurion holds fast his Cohort.”
-Imperator Gaius Julius Aurelius in a speech to the Vulpesian Legio XIII before the Second Battle of Illyrianis (54BC, the ruins of the city 200 miles southwest of the modern-day city of Takan)
Millions flood Red Square
“We will triumph over the forces amassed against us! Such is our way! The CDSPian rabble believe us defeated! The Kaligulans believe they will smash their way through our lines in Scandinavia! Prizyetsa believes we have lost Issøy! Friends, countrymen, brothers and sisters of the Glorious Revolution, I am here to tell you this is not the case!”
A thundering applause erupted from the Central District of Moscow. A multitude were in attendance, listening to their charismatic Premier’s speech as he stood up on s stage surrounded by his staff, including the Ministers of Defense and Intelligence. Behind the leadership, massive LCD screens were hanging, giving those who were not close enough to witness the glory of the leader in person a chance to see him speak. The same video feed was being broadcasted to homes around the Sovietyeto, people loving the sight of the glorious leader. It was truly stunning. Almost every man, woman, and child in Moscow was present. The only ones not around were units of the Sovietyetan soldiers on duty in the surrounding Districts. Vladimir Durgamavich was such an amazing figure that he had managed to summon almost every civilian from the surrounding Districts and packed them into the Central.
It was a beautiful Sovietyetan day. Not a cloud in the sky, the bright midmorning sun shining proudly in the sky, it’s light enriched the blood red banners that hung all around Red Square, on the buildings, and even the flags being waved in the square and the surrounding streets. The air was electric with excitement. To the militaristic Sovietyetan people, they were finally having their might tested against the world. The powerful Sovietyetan empire was taking on the world, and not faltering. According to the state-sponsored news, the Prizyetsans were having to fight for every inch the took on Issøy, paying dearly for the small island. The Kaligulans were suffering as waves of aircraft attacked District One, the capital city of the nation, as their Solgardt allies failed to protect them. The CDSPian army was weakened by a lack of food, and the Kauvaran food drop would not to very much to change the situation. The Chinese would be coming to the aid of the Sovietyetans, glorious communist brothers and sisters fighting together against the evils of the West. Armedland had been defeated, Octovia doing its best to save it from the advancing Kommandorian horde. Truly, the Sovietyeto was proving its superiority, genetic and otherwise, once again.
“My friends, we will stand against the invasion from the West! We will hold the line, and push them back! Back! Back into the Entas Ocean as our mighty soldiers conquer the pathetic CDSP! Look, my people! Look to the west, and to the next great Republic of our nation!” Durgamavich gestured out, pointing behind the crowd to the western horizon. All faces turned to look, eagerness and fire in their eyes.
But one pair of eyes did not. They were old. Tired. Weary. They had seen decades of violence, destruction, and horror. They were framed by orange hair, streaks of white running through it with a single spot of black just on the side, over one ear, the hair falling about his head in a disheveled mess. A fox’s colors, but not the sleekness. A pair of sunglasses hid the eyes, their sheen reflecting in the light as they obscured a ragged, scarred face. Below, a black suit with a black tie stood firmly, not turning with the rest of the crowd as it continued to face the Premier and his staff, a steely resolve in the stance. He checked his watch. 09:59. It was time. The man reached inside of his coat, withdrawing a black and silver cellphone. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped it open. Looking once more to the stage, knowing what was about to happen and what he was about to authorize, he gave a single sigh. A rarity for the man. Regret was a concept that he had forgotten decades ago. Although he could not help but feel a pang of it at the idea of what his words were about to do. Looking down to the phone, he pressed a series of numbers, then raised it to his ear. One ring. The world was about to change. Two rings. For better or for worse, nobody knew. Three rings. Tsevn was never this late answering his phone. Four rings. Did he have regrets as well? Five rings. Maybe, but he would speak not a word. Finally, the rings stopped, Tsven having picked up, but saying not a word. The orange-haired man spoke only three words.
“Commence the operation.”
BASEMENT OF THE TEKLINK HEADQUARTERS, CENTRAL DISTRICT
MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
10:00 HOURS
”Strike like a shadow, and your foe will waste his efforts striking back at shadows.”
-From the teachings of Lunaria, Umbra Vulpes
Tsven relays the Director's orders
“Confirmed, Director, we are on-mission.”
Tsven ended the call before forwarding orders to Agency cells around Red Square. He then clacked his phone shut, placing it in within his coat pocket. Security was going to be tight. Timing even tighter. They had ten minutes. And the clock was ticking.
The basement was dark, the bodies of a few guards crammed into a corner behind a few boxes. The power had been cut to the lights, part of the pre-operation checks. Crates lined shelves, the Teklink logo emblazoned on them. Ironically, there were once Teklink CPUs powering some of Kauvara’s government financial systems. However, once the scientific craze raced over Kauvara, the old systems were rapidly replaced by newer, more efficient ones. Tsven chuckled, reminded of the nature of governments and alliances. However, it was time to move, not time for reflection.
Tsven looked to the men and woman around him. Remus, Rydan, and Elena, the members of the Office of Government Adjustment. They were his people. The ones he had worked with for a very long time. Good people. Remus and Rydan were the ever-inseparable pair, Remus talking the ear off of his stoically silent companion, as per the usual. Elena was checking her trademark weapon, a gas-operated rope dispenser that she had modified to fire a rope with a harpoon claw on the end, a highly potent weapon. She was young for an agent at only 19, having just entered after being selected out of college on the recommendation of her older sister, a veteran agent. And Tsven could not help but feel… He brushed that thought aside. Mission-focus. He looked to his watch. 9 minutes and 38 seconds. They had to move quickly.
It was time to change the world. And the best part? Nobody would ever know what happened, save Emperor Aleksandr Or’yan and Gaius Kauvus.
Tsven straightened his tie, then withdrew his pistol from his coat. “C’mon, people,” he began. “It’s time to move.” Rydan nodded, cracking his knuckles and withdrawing his own pistol. Elena placed a harpoon into the tip of her weapon, coiling the rope within and charging it up. Remus withdrew his electromag rod, clapping it against his hand. “Let’s do this!” he called out. “I dunno about you folks, but that guy’s talking is getting a little too… ‘voluminous.’” Elena laughed, looking to him. “What, Remus, don’t like it when somebody other than you is talking?” she teased. Remus just made a face at her, sticking his tongue out before sprinting forward and leaping a good ten feet up to the top of a set of shelves, then jumping again into an air duct. Rydan shook his head, running forward and vaulting up and after him. “Well, Elena…” Tsven began. “Ready?” She simply nodded sprinting forward and launching over the boxes, doing a somersault at the zenith of her spring before pushing into the duct. Tsven smiled. That woman was amazing… He gritted his teeth, sprinting forward and pushing off as he jumped atop the ten-foot shelf, climbing up into the duct and into the adventure that awaited them.
After six minutes, the four agents were doing their best to crawl through the air ducts of the Teklink Building with tired bodies. They had to be near the top. They had heard a multitude of guards down below as they went, causing Tsven to be relieved that they had found such an efficient route. He was curious, though… They had yet to hit any traps. This seemed almost too easy… He caught himself. He might have just cursed them…
“Quit pushin’, Rydan…!” came a harsh whisper.
“Remus, shut the Fox up…!”
“He fuckin’ started it…!”
“Yeah…? Well I’ll ‘fuckin’’ end it…!”
“HOLD IT…!”
Up ahead, a series of proximity lasers had been set up in the air duct, their red lights tracing through the still air. Tsven cursed. “Wolf take us, what now…?” Remus asked. Rydan punched him softly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, silence is golden, whatever…” Remus retorted. “But seriously, what now, boss…?”
Tsven paused, thinking for a moment. This would pose a problem. Below, in the Teklink Building, were at least a few dozen KGB agents. While they paled in comparison to the operatives of the Agency, they could definitely do without the attention. But, they were already up near the top floor. Tsevn checked his watch. Three minutes and twenty-five seconds until show time and the world would be changed forever. They did not have time for this. They had a mission to complete. And the Agency always completed its missions.
With that, Tsven kicked his back foot down, slamming it into the metal floor paneling of the vent. The panel exploded downwards in a shower of bolts and sparks, crushing a KGB operative underneath it as Tsven tumbled through the new opening, withdrawing his pistol. The room was lavish, the Teklink profits being applied in full-measure to make it the best it could possibly be. In the center was a conference table, with four corner offices around it. The wallpaper was a beautiful golden red, like many things in the Sovietyeto, the carpet the same color. The corner offices had glass walls, their interiors easily showing how well Teklink had been doing in the global market. The room, however, was drenched in a red hue, as flags had been hung over the windows, the sunlight that shone through them casting the room in a dull glow. However, it also cast the twelve KGB agents in the same light as they turned towards Tsven. However, three silenced shots rang out, the throats of three KGB operatives exploding outward before Tsven righted himself, landing on the panel that now rested on the spark-singed floor.
He was immediately followed by Elena, her suit fluttering as she raised her rope dispenser. With a thud, she launched the harpoon forth from her weapon, the metal prong slamming into one of the operatives, impaling him instantly, before she swept the rope to the right, bisecting the two men that were standing next to him, their rifles hurtling into the air. Elena whipped the rope again, knocking two of the rifles as they spun towards the pair of agents.
However, Rydan jumped out of the vent next, catching both of the rifles in midair before landing on the plate in a kneeling stance, crossing both rifles over his chest before looking up, his sunglasses shimmering in the red light. Tsven and Elena affixed silencers to each one in rapid succession, before he leveled them forward, opening fire into the remaining six operatives, the silenced rattling and the sound of shell casings hitting the metal plate signaling the deaths of the final KGB men at the hands of their comrades’ weapons.
Finally, Remus swung down, his red hair whipping with the motion as he withdrew his electromag rod. “Alright, you red motherfuckers, who’s firs-??” He looked around, seeing the group completely wiped out, their blood mixing with the red-hued floor. “Fox dammit…” he breathed. Rydan dropped the Kalashnikovs, punching him in the arm, his normally stoney face smirking, if only a little. Remus blinked. “Holy shit, the gorilla can smile, Doctor!” he teased. Rydan frowned once again, turning and making his way towards the stairs. Remus chuckled. “Ah well, easy come, easy go…” The other three agents followed, heading towards the roof of the Teklink Building, ready to change the world forever.
ROOFTOP, TEKLINK BUILDING, CENTRAL DISTRICT
MOSCOW, MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
10:09 HOURS
”Justice is always swift, and it will always find its mark when loosed from its bow.”
Rydan and Remus make their way across the rooftop
The hot midmorning sun beat down on the roof as the four agents made their way through the door to the roof. The vents were working full blast, trying to get enough AC to remove the heat from the building. That was actually the saving grace, how the agents had managed to get so far; the vents were making enough noise to mask them as they tried to keep the building cool on the beautiful day. Up ahead, a pair of KGB agents were talking. Sixty seconds. They had no time for this. Tsven raised his pistol, not bothering to affix the silencer, discharging two rounds into the guards, their bodies falling in crumpled heaps. “Remus, Rydan. Hold the door. Elena, get the scanner. I’ll take care of our other objective.” The agents all nodded, moving to different locations on the roof. Remus and Rydan grabbed random debris, planks, and other assorted tools, holding them against the door. Rydan cracked his knuckles and Remus withdrew his eletromag rod, ready to dispense some Fox-borne justice on anybody who tried to come through the door.
Elena quickly pulled out a strange black device. It look a lot like a pair of binoculars, although it only had one lens on the left side, and a few shimmering buttons and lights on the other side. She keyed up a few of the buttons, then looked through the lens, pointing at the Southern District of Moscow as she said a silent prayer of forgiveness to the Fox.
Finally, Tsven moved to his own grim duty. He withdrew a black and silver case from his coat, looking at three other buildings. He saw a series of flickers from three other locations. The top of the Naberezhnaya Tower to the north. The Federation Tower to the west. And, finally, the Imperia Tower to the east. He knew what those glints were. They were the usherers of a new era. And the signal that he had about twenty seconds left before it was time to change the world. He unclipped the silver clasps holding the case shut, the top opening, revealing the instrument that the Agency would use to start in motion a chain of events that would either lead to the world’s complete salvation, or its utter destruction. “Remember,” he said, echoing the Director’s orders. “We are not here to make a martyr.”
The large clip had a single .50-caliber round inside, modified for it to be caseless so it would leave no evidence after discharge. Tsven adjusted the customized scope, its tick marks personalized for the exact weather conditions that the day was to have. He set the carbon-fiber bipod on the retaining wall of the roof, leveling it towards the stage. His finger traced over the hardened fiberglass trigger, designed to break after a single pull. He placed his shoulder into the stock, its form perfectly contoured to his body, built for his use. The silver barrel read [i]“A VVLPES VENIT IVSTITIA.” “FROM THE FOX COMES JUSTICE.”
Ten seconds. He adjusted the sight, looking to the other towers. Nine seconds. “Boss, they’ve found us!” Eight seconds. Tsven shot a glance at Elena as she looked through her scope at the Western District, a tear rolling down her young cheek. Seven seconds. “Rydan, hold the damned door!” Six seconds. Tsven gently caressed the trigger. Five seconds. “They’ve broken through! Rydan, time to party!” Four seconds. One of the guards on stage put a finger to his earpiece. Three seconds. KGB operatives began to flood the sides of the stage. Two seconds. Tsevn said a silent prayer to the Fox. One second. The crosshairs leveled over the head of the Minister of Intelligence, and Tsven pulled the trigger, another shot arcing towards his chest from a different tower, two more slinging towards the head and chest of the Minister of Defense.
COMMUNICATIONS CENTER, CENTRALIS STATION, NEXUS ASTRUM
HIGH-ORBIT OVER THE UNITED FEDERATION OF PRIZYETSA AND IMPERIUM OF KAUVARA
00:54 HOURS (SHIPBOARD TIME)
”And lo, Ultima Vulpae sent forth His divine Wrath upon the wicked from His perch amongst the Holy Sea of Clouds, their own arrogance and hubris of totality being their undoing and damnation.”
-Excerpt from Canto XXIV, Book VII of From the Divine Skies, His Realm
Centralis Station, the hub of Nexus Astrum
Second Lieutenant Darius Malgeus was leaning back at his station, reading the Prizyetsi book The Savage Altar. It was paperback, something that his fellow officers teased him for. Why not use holoplast, or, Wolf, just a tablet? But Malgeus liked the feel of paper between his fingers. He let out a yawn, the “night shift” being an unlucky one for him to pull. Of course, there was no night, but sleep rotations were still a bitch. Around him, the communications center was brightly lit, making sleep impossible, the white walls reflecting the light in a sterile fashion. He just sighed, flipping the page as he kept one eye on the clock, really missing his bunk.
However, be blinked suddenly as the inter-atmospheric communications indicator went off, blinking and beeping. What the hell…? There was not supposed to be any scheduled communication from Earth for another six minutes… He set his book down, leaning forward and pressing a few buttons on his console. A single message appeared, but it was not from any signal he recognized. It was not from a Coalition nation, and it sure as hell was not forged. Fuck, it even had all the proper clearance. What was this…?
>> COMMS INITIATED
>> … STAND BY…
>> … STAND BY…
>> … STAN
>> OPEN REQUEST FOR SUPPORT
>> CODE BLACK PACKAGE REQUESTED AT COORDINATES 55°46′N 37°37′E
>> CODE BLACK PACKAGE REQUESTED AT COORDINATES 55°44′N 37°37′E
>> CODE BLACK PACKAGE REQUESTED AT COORDINATES 55°45′N 38°37′E
>> CODE BLACK PACKAGE REQUESTED AT COORDINATES 55°45′N 36°37′E
>> CODE SILVER PACKAGE REQUESTED AT COORDINATES 55°45′N 37°37′E
>> VERIFICATION OVERRIDDEN ACCORDING TO PRTCL. 8492-G
>> RSN.: IMPERIAL DECREE, BY THE GRACE OF THE FOX
>> RELAY IMMEDIATELY TO LIEUTENANT GENERAL RICHTER, JAAG
>> RELAY IMMEDIATELY TO NECESSARY CONSTITUENT POSTINGS
>> MESSAGE END
>> LOG OUT? Y/N
>> …
Malgeus blinked a few times, wondering what in the hell this meant. Well, he knew what it [i]meant, but… The Emperor authorized this himself…? So be it. He tapped a few keys, forwarding the message to Richter, although the Imperial Decree meant that such a thing was meaningless. It was only for his reference, if nothing else. He entered the coordinates of the necessary satellites and ships. However, as he moved to hit enter, his fingers hovered for a moment. He knew what he was about to do… He fought back a tear, cursing as he balled his fist and punched the key, shattering the console, wires sparking as he sent the message. Second Lieutenant Darius Malgeus, Coalition Marine Corps, at the age of only twenty-two, had cemented himself in the annals of history. But who would he be remembered as? That was up to the men and women sailing in the craft that weaved through the sea of clouds over Eastern Europe.
BRIDGE, FLAGSHIP SWORD OF OR’YAN
JUST WEST OF MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
10:12 HOURS
”Be wary, for you may do more damage with an open palm than a closed fist.”
-Kreia
Emperor Aleksandr Or'yan
He reached into his regalia, withdrawing a pocket watch. It was old, at least two centuries. It was a gift from his mentor and father figure, Gaius Kauvus. The hands steadily ticked. The time was growing close. Less than one minute. He turned, looking to the bridge at the airmen and sailors doing their duties. Catching one by the arm, he looked to the soldier, no older than eighteen. “Airman… Connect me with the Fleet. I…” He straightened out, remembering what Gaius had taught him. An Emperor must show poise and unity at all times, lest his people lose faith in the course they have chosen. But Or’yan still believed he had to show a little humanity sometimes, in order to give the people something to relate to. Ah, the debates the two had gotten into over that issue… Or’yan had never seen the man talk so much. “I wish to address them.” The soldier nodded, handing him an earpiece, looking to him with a quizzical, but reverential look. Or’yan just smiled at him, placing it in his ear. A series of whistles played out of the loudspeakers across all of the ships in the fleet, and Or’yan began to speak.
“Soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the Second Imperial Skyfleet. This is Emperor Aleksandr Or’yan, with… a little something to tell you. Just a small speech, forgive me.” He paused. “Two hours ago, we were handing out food to the CDSPians. A mission of mercy. Now, we’re on another mission of mercy, albeit one that is not so black and white… You all know why we’re here, what we’re about to do… I will not lie to any of you. We are delving into the belly of the Sovietyetan beast. There will be no reinforcement. There will be no relief. There will be no resupply, resignation, or retreat. We are delving into Moscow, where we will hold for as long as we can. Our brothers and sisters need us to do this. It is a grim role, but one which we gladly take. In the West, Prizyetsa suffers casualties in an invasion of the island of Issøy. Our taking of Moscow will give the defenders pause, maybe a few critical seconds of it in order for then to seize the initiative. The CDSP no longer suffers from a food shortage thanks to your brave efforts, but they still feel the aggressive advance of the Sovietyetan blitz. Our actions here today might just make that blitz turn around. In the waters off of Kaligula, a myriad of ships are doing their absolute best to keep the Sovietyetans from bombing District One. Our actions here today will turn those bombers around. In the south, Armedland and Octovia battle in the hot deserts to keep the Sovietyetans from pushing ever further into Central Asia. Our actions here today will make that advance lose impetus. Kommandoria seeks to arm rebels in Central Asia. Our actions here today will give them the time they need to prepare a front for freedom in the long oppressed lands. In the East, our Chinese brethren suffer in war against the Sovietyetans. Thousands die in every action, infantry waves crashing against each other, perishing in hordes. Our actions here today may cease that bloodbath.” He looked out of the grand window at Moscow, the Skyfleet approaching it as it lay on the horizon. “Prepare yourself, men and women of Kauvara and Solgardt. For today, we show the world what Kauvara is prepared to do when a government chooses the path of war, destruction, and oppression of basic human rights, and the consequences for infringing upon the basic tenet of the right to live. For today, we kill a spider in order to save a butterfly, even if it means taking the spider’s venomous bite of death throes into our wrist. For today…” He paused. His pocket watch clicked once more.
10:13.
The clear sky above the North, South, East, and West Districts of Moscow were pierced suddenly, streams of light streaking down from orbit. Dozens fell, colliding with the districts, throwing up masonry, smoke, and dirt. The NITRUM Network had been activated, being used in combat for the very first time. Each rod carried enough force to vaporize a city block. According to Agency intelligence, almost every man, woman, and child was in the Central District, crowding Red Square to watch the speech. Civilian casualties would be minimal, if not non-existent, the only reason why Or’yan had authorized this at all. He chuckled softly, realizing that only he, Kauvus, and the agents long-thought dead would know the purpose behind this. To everybody else, Or’yan was the sole proprietor of this action. Although, it would prove difficult to explain how the coordinates were sent. A worry for another time, if the Kauvarans and Solgardti even survived this ordeal. The streaks of light finally stopped, smoke and fire billowing from the surrounding districts in Moscow, carefully avoiding the Central District where everybody would be watching the speech. Or’yan turned, faced the bridge one more.
“Today, we change the world. To the Kauvarans, I ask that the wind ever be at your back. And to our honored Solgardti comrades, diving into the jaws of death with us, may your fortune be ever secure and your pockets ever-lined. And to all who sail with the Skyfleet, and to all who we hope to save with this action…”
With a sweep of his red cape, Or’yan turned once more, looking to Moscow. Every district, save the Central, was burning. The NITRUM Network had done its duty. Great clouds of smoke billowed forth, the once beautiful midmorning sun casting a blood red glow through the haze.
“May the Fox keep you all.”
He removed the headpiece, turning to face Imperator Gaius Kauvus and Director-General Michael Raines. Kauvus merely nodded, his face emotionless and stoney as ever. He was never one for emotion, that one… However, Director-General Raines was emotionless as well, but in a different way. He was barking orders into his headpiece.
“All ships, move forward! It’s time to put the nail into this coffin!”
All across the Skyfleet, life bustled forth. Scores of fighters and ground-attack craft were launched from the larger vessels, coming together in formations of at least a dozen each. Corvettes whipped between vessels, their weapons readying as they prepared their positions. Destroyers armed, moving into picket formation. Cruisers prepared their guns, firing volleys into the ruined Districts, carefully avoiding the Central, their great 150mm guns unleashing powerful volleys. Shield-ships moved forward, their bulwarks extending, ready to intercept any missile fire. The pair of massive battleships powered forward at the core of the formation, their railguns imparting extra shots into the Districts every thirty seconds. Finally, the [i]Sword of Or’yan, the flagship, seemed to open up, its underside shifting to reveal a heavy railgun. Two sponsons on the side began to spool with energy, taking in power and charging, before the massive railgun fired into the Western District. The Skyfleet arced forward, all-ahead full, weapons blazing into the Northern, Western, Southern, and Eastern Districts, careful to avoid the Central.
DROP BAY, CMCS JORMUNGANDR
MID-ORBIT OVER MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
---ZERO HOUR---
The Marines of the 3rd back on Moss Bluff several months prior
“GO, GO, GO!”
Heavy metal bootsteps sounded in the main hanger of Coalition Marine Corps cruiser as hundreds of soldiers in heavy CMCA-4 power armor charged about, their massive bulk making them at least eight feet tall, the men and women inside looking small in comparison. Each of them held heavy .50-caliber, fully-automatic autocannons, specially-built for the massive soldiers, weapons that would break the arm of a person if they tried to fire it without the assistance of the power suit.
“---ATTENTION: this is a Code Silver. All combat personnel, prepare for insertion.---”
The men and women of the 3rd Specialized Assault Infantry had… an interesting role in the Coalition. Their power suits meant that they could operate in almost any environment, and often did. With the motto “Going where no man wants to go,” they truly lived up to their reputation. Most came from the colonial worlds of New Gettysburg, Folsom, Moss Bluff, Gunsmoke, or other worlds. Mostly lawless, underdeveloped dustballs. These men and women were truly the embodiment of the “space cowby” ideal. Hell, most of them even had Southern drawls.
They were joking with each other, cheering, and checking tallymarks on their weapons and armor. “Looks like we’re finally about to get dirty with the Russkies!” The Marines checked their weapons. “About fuckin’ time! The damn fringe was gettin’ borin’! Neo Dallas was fun, but I’m glad to be back on sweet ol’ Earth!” With a series of hisses, doors all around the massive hangar sealed, the suits of the Marines doing the same. “Shit yeah! I’m tired of always bein’ sent to the fuckin’ assholes of the galaxy! Let’s do somethin’ fun for once!” Several sections of the floor parted, revealing the planet below, as well as the smoke from Moscow, a small speck, and their destination.
“Alright, you Fringe Fuckers, cut the chatter!” came the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Amanda Skye, the Commanding Officer of the 3rd. She was another interesting character, one who always dropped with her soldiers. Hell, she was usually the first one out of the dropship. “We’re goin’ in, but this time we gotta be careful! Dropzone is gonna be a little busy! Lotta civvies down there! And they ain’t targets, you outlaws! So check your fuckin’ boots before you decide to plant ‘em on the Red soil! I’m lookin’ at you, Private Webb! I don’t want ya’ll slamming yourself into a Fox damn bog or some shit like back on Sumter!” The soldiers all laughed, one of the Marines getting a few friendly punches, although these punches were more like pile drivers hitting solid metal. Skye made a point to know everybody in her unit, and made sure everybody else did the same. “Now enough talkin’! Follow me straight to hell, boys??” She dove out of the open door, her power-armored frame streaking towards Earth. “OOH-RAH!” With that, hundreds of soldiers poured forth, streaking towards Moscow, ready to deliver death on a heavy scale as they shouted their own, personal battlecries.
VARYING LOCATIONS
MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
10:15 HOURS
Two destroyers and corvette squadrons move into the Muscovite smoke
The multitude of ships that comprised of the Skyfleet broke Moscow’s perimeter, making for center over the course of minutes. A few SAM batteries that had survived the onslaught attempted to bring the ships down, but the shield-ships merely intercepted them, and then triangulated their positions for return fire. The Skyfleet had lucked out; only five thousand soldiers were present in the massive city that comprised of tens of millions. They stood no chance. Searchlights powered on as they swept over the crowds of Sovietyetan people below, their city burning around them. Fighters and other small craft darted about on Combat Air Patrol, ready to intercept any threats. Corvettes maintained close escort on their larger counterparts. Destroyers shifted position, moving into a perimeter to secure the city. Cruisers slowly landed in the ruined perimeter districts, disgorging their 20,000 soldiers. The pair of battleships took up position over the central district, their weapons primed and ready. Finally, the Sword of Or’yan took its place in the heart of the what could now be considered an aerial fortress, given the formation of ships. The Marines rapidly covered ground, securing different parts of the city as they made a perimeter around the center, as the power-armored soldiers of the 3rd Specialized Infantry slammed down and landed all about the city, preparing to link up with other personnel. Loudspeakers blared from the ships, speaking in fluent Russian.
“ATTENTION, CIVILIANS OF MOSCOW! We wish you no harm! We have established a perimeter around the Central District! This is for your own safety! The surrounding Districts are designated ACTIVE COMBAT ZONES! However, evacuation corridors have been prepared! You may leave at your leisure! We encourage you to do so, and have supply checkpoints with food, warm clothing, and other necessities prepared! Please, take advantage of them and leave this city immediately! We cannot guarantee your safety should you remain! ATTENTION, CIVILIANS OF MOSCOW! We wish you no harm! We have established a perimeter around the Central District…!”
The Marines all had their orders. Civilians were NOT to be targeted unless they chose to be combatants. Matthias Gavenson, Sydney Dunn, Haruka Yamashi, Yelena Federova, Sara McGran, Julius Kydno, and Jayrus Tiberyon, the famed soldiers of Foxtrot Squad, Alpha Company, 13th Infantry, carefully contemplated these orders as they picked their way through the Western District, making their way towards the rapidly-tightening noose around the Central District. They were six heroes, but they were still six people. Six people among the tens of thousands involved in this operation. They all knew they would more-than-likely never see home again. The Sovietyetan hordes would come for Moscow, converging on them. However, each had their mind on something, no matter how hard they tried to focus. A beautiful Administratii officer, one who would probably want to kick Matthias’s ass as soon as she figured out what he had signed up for. A charming, dorky CDSPSO trooper, one who actually shed a tear at the goodbye to Sydney. A Chinese Admiral, and a loving brother, one who was on the wrong side of the conflict, a silent prayer to the Fox and Dragon escaping Haruka’s lips. St. Petersburg, home to Yelena, a place that would likely not escape the flames of war. The man next to Sara, her flame and inspiration, one who hated himself. A former Kauvaran Special Forces Operative, Richard Letkov, one that Julius had allowed to die to his incompetence. Home, Fyrto, the playground of Jayrus, wondering how his old gang was holding up, wondering if they had come clean.
Every soldier and civilian had a story.
Every soldier and civilian had a hope.
Every soldier and civilian had a dream.
Every soldier and civilian had a life.
And this war was going to extinguish millions of them. If the Kauvarans could sacrifice themselves here, in Moscow, they could make the war end just that much sooner. That was what Kauvara fought for. That was what they bled for.
That was what they would die for.
BRIDGE, CNS POLARIS
HIGH-ORBIT OVER THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
14:52 HOURS (SHIPBOARD TIME)
The communications officer receives a message
All was quiet on the Polaris as Captain Henrik Gustavsen made his rounds. Although, this time, the quiet was unsettling. The NITRUM Network had just been deployed. The trepidation in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. But they had all read the reports. Civilian casualties would likely be non-existent. Still, it did no make it any easier… One of his officers walked up to him. "Sir, the Kauvarans are requesting we fall to stand by. They request orbital anti-missile countermeasures, but not anti-ground or air... They're... They're trying to draw them in, sir..." Gustavsen just sighed, then tapped a few keys, relaying the orders to the countermeasure satellites. The Kauvarans did not want to be destroyed by missiles. They wanted the Sovietyetans to have to converge on them, and give every bit of power they had.
RUINS OF MAMAYEV KURGAN
MOSCOW, THE SOCIALIST REPUBLICS OF THE SOVIETYETO
10:17 HOURS
SOLDIER arrives on the scene
Dozens of men and women in black suits watched as the Kauvaran forces flooded the ruined city. The entire ordeal, from the moment that the Director had initiated the operation, to now as they sat gazing at what they had started, had taken seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds. Seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds that would change the world. Tsven looked at his watch. They should have arrived by now… He sighed, knowing that punctuality was not the strong suit of those they waited on. He looked to his fellow agents. They were tired. Dead tired. First, it was evading Muscovite forces. Then fighting them off as they underwent their operation. Third, they had to dodge the steel rain from the NITRUM Network. Fourth, they had to secretly deliver several unmanned Sovietyetan divisions-worth of empty tanks to the Kauvaran forces to use as they saw fit. Finally, they had to avoid Kauvaran infantry patrols.
That was the most interesting part. To the Kauvarans, the Agency did not exist. Wolf, the Agency was not even a Kauvaran organization. It used to be, but the entire thing got a show execution after they tried to stop Kauvara from expanding into Central America. However, they lived on, their existence known only to Emperor Or’yan and Gaius Kauvus. Now they simply served humanity, a role that they felt Kauvara did as well, their goals often intermixing. This was one such case. Finally, he heard familiar bootsteps. “Took you long enough…” he said, closing his eyes as he took on a teasing visage. The four members of SOLDIER just looked at him, shaking their heads. They were the superhuman members of the Agency, the ones who each take down an entire division by themselves, and often did. Angel Henner, Genesis Rhypshod, Sephondis Thunus, and Zachary Stryfe. They laughed, giving the agents a single look, before sprinting to the top of the hill at inhuman speeds, launching themselves off and into the smoke above the buildings, arcing dozens of feet into the air.
Their orders were to track down any remaining Sovietyetan VIPs and bring them in. Something that Tsven had the utmost confidence in. He looked to the other agents, all of them assembled on the ruined hill as smoke billowed around them. “You have your orders. It’s time for us to carry them out. We aren’t done it. This war extends beyond Moscow, and we’re needed elsewhere.”
With that, the agents dispersed into their teams of four, ready to go wherever the conflict needed them to, after instigating seventeen minutes.
Seventeen minutes that would change the world.
---JUSTIFICATIONS---
---PLEASE READ BEFORE DISPUTING ANYTHING---
---PLEASE READ BEFORE DISPUTING ANYTHING---
How did the agents get so close to my speech?
If you’ll notice, I had them all placed in Red Square on my prior post. Your premier and his people immediately went there. That was just super convenient for me, to be honest, and I was not about to skip out on that opportunity. I left your leader alive so that you did not get COMPLETELY screwed over.
Why was it so easy to just attack my Ministers?
You made an open-air speech in the middle of a city with millions of people to blend with on a raised stage during wartime. Honestly, I have no idea why you chose to do this, or why no other nations chose to try to capitalize on this opportunity. Although I suppose my agents already being in Red Square helped.
Wait, the Skyfleet was just in the CDSP! How did they get to Moscow so fast?
It is a two-hour flight from Warsaw, Poland, to Moscow, Russia. That is using a standard plane, much less a Kauvaran Imperial airship. Kauvara is built for speed. The fact that your posts all indicated that you thought we were here for diplomatic reasons is indicative of a complete lack of resistance, which only further expedites things.
You realize you just slaughtered millions of innocent civilians with the NITRUM barrage, right?
Wrong. In your previous post, you stated that “Almost every man, woman, and child was in attendance” at the speech in the Central District. I don’t pretend to know how big your new Red Square is after you rebuilt Moscow when the CDSP destroyed it with an EMP. But that is a clear indicator that you fully-intended for everybody to be there. The NITRUM strike had agents specifically-pinpoint locations in every district BUT the Central one, clearing a path for the Skyfleet, and destroying any resistance in the Northern, Southern, Western, and Eastern Districts, all of which were unoccupied according to your last post.
How did you overcome my defenses so fast? Moscow is my capital!
In an earlier RMB post, you stated that you only had 5,000 soldiers and a few divisions-worth of empty tanks. That is barely enough to hold a town, much less such a massive city with a capital district that can apparently hold tens of millions of people. In short, you would be completely spread thin, and the Skyfleet’s bombardment and Marine deployment would easily clean up any survivors of the NITRUM barrage. Not only that, but, as stated earlier, Kauvara is built for speed. We will likely fall apart should you make a push to retake the city, if you go fast enough, as Kauvara is best at quick strikes, not taking and holding.
If there are any other outstanding issues, feel free to bring them up on the RMB! I will not preside over the proceedings. We will choose a neutral party ^_^
