(OOC Thread)
Southeast of Huaryapata (approx. 4 miles/8 kilometers west of the Peruvian-Bolivian border)
Protectorate of Peru, Republica Libertad de Chile
Ignacio Gonzalez watched the commotion outside with his hand resting on his holstered CZ-75 and his other clutching a Remington 870, waiting for it to reach his rather secluded residence. Behind him stood his wife, Noelia, with an M4A1, with the wish she wouldn't have a reason to worry, and a few housemaids and night farmhands that had decided to stay in the shelter of the house.
The men banged loudly on the door. Startled, Noelia reached for the carbine's fire selector. Ignacio waved her down, setting down the shotgun and slowly approaching the entrance to his house, his hand still on his pistol.
Frantic shouts of "Medico! Medico!" and "Doctor!" emerged from the outside. Ignacio could make out the shapes of several armed figures and two stretchers, as well as the vehicle headlights and floodlights that poured through his windows.
Ignacio opened the door, pistol ready.
A flood of men and several women in full combat equipment with patches from the Angeles Negros PMC group rushed through the doors, clearing the house of potential threats with their FAMAE BF1s. An officer waved his VargTech P7mi4, trying to calm them. Ignacio saw the lines of a Humvee, a Stryker fighting vehicle, and a large armored truck with the AN logo. Coming out from behind the truck were four other mercenaries, carrying two collapsible stretchers- containing two young men in terrible shape connected to IVs and covered in bloodied dressings. Right after them was another PMC, arms full with a medical kit, a bloodbag, and a bottle of what Ignacio assumed to be painkillers.
"Dios mio," Noelia gasped, as she set down her own gun to help her husband clear out a pair of tables.
"Magdalena and Sofia! Go grab my surgical kit and some antibiotics from the cellar. Make it quick. Nicolas, wash your hands and get some gloves and a mask." Ignacio ordered. The maids did as told, with Noelia and a female PMC accompanying them.
"I've only done this with pig-" the young farmhand protested, but Ignacio waved him off. "Chico, I need all hands on deck right now."
He then turned to the officer. "What the hell happened, and how did you find me?"
"Good intel. Everyone in the area seems to like you. Surgeon and former gendarmerie with rich wife, does charity work around here. Lucky our recon drone saw your property before it ran out of fuel, so we could make a clean trip."
He didn't blame him. The nearest real hospital was 10 more kilometers away in Huarypata, through not-well-documented rural roadways.
"Well, when did this happen?"
"15 minutes ago. We were smoking out a Bolivian border patrol encampment, all easy until Fed armored support rolled in. Putos nearly nearly tore us to bits if we didn't make a quick retreat. Helivac couldn't happen with the flak guns and SAMs the commies have mobilized."
Ignacio cleaned his hands, before slipping on a mask and a pair of nitrile gloves. "And then? Don't you have a medic?"
"The medic's your second patient." The officer said somberly yet flatly.
"Here's what happened." The PMC carrying the medical supplies placed his load down on the kitchen counter, as the maids and Noelia returned with the surgical kit. "Joel faced friendly fire from a thermite grenade, although I was able to treat those third-degrees and it was nothing scary. He took two more commie bullets, a carbine and a pistol in the thigh and hip, before Castro tried to stabilize him. He got shot five times. Bastardo's lucky as shit, nothing got him in any blood vessels, but there's a round in his lung and another that cracked his clavicle. He also managed to get knifed in the arm and the side of his abs, before Boss capped the bad guy."
"I'll get Castro, then, while you tend to Joel." Ignacio said to the PMC medic, looking at his cases. "We can't give them any more painkillers- they might be suffering from shock. We need them conscious for this one."
"They won't like it." the medic said, before replacing the rag that had been stuffed in his co-fighter's mouth. Nicolas did the same with the other man, before Ignacio went to work on him.
All held their breath as the surgeon carefully removed the dressing from Castro's chest, fighting with tiny movements to keep additional air from entering the wound and collapsing the lung while the farmhand replaced the IV with a fresh bag of fluids. The entry wound was all Ignacio could work with, for fear of making the problem worse by widening the hole.
The labored breathing of the casualty, and the tinny clack, clack of Ignacio's forceps echoed like a thunderstorm throughout the house, until a twitch from the surgeon's arm announced a victory.
Slowly and gingerly, the forceps left the wound-grasping a dented, blood-covered 9x18mm Makarov. Nicolas, acting quickly, applied a new dressing to the wound, as Noelia crossed herself in relief and thanks and the PMCs clapped and cheered.
The procedures went long into the night until one o' clock, accompanied by muffled protests from the patients but constant encouragement from the onlookers.
...
"And... done. They can rest now." Ignacio announced, as he checked Castro's blood pressure. Nicolas gave the thumbs-up on his end, as he cut the suture thread from the PMC's abdomen stab.
The three of them- the medic, Nicolas, and Ignacio took turns removing their gear and washing. The moment he'd toweled off, the officer who had greeted him earlier pressed an incredibly thick wad of pesos into his hand.
"Gratitude, Doctor Gonzalez. When the contract is to save a life, the reward is priceless."
(9 hours later)
Palacia de La Moneda/Presidential Palace, Santiago de Chile (Civic District)
Republica Libertad de Chile/Free Republic of Chile
The bustling South American city, one that rose so quickly, above Buenos Aires, above Rio, as Latin America’s center for power, prosperity, and liberty, was now darkened by an overcast sky before noon.
The tall, tan-skinned President-General slowly descended the steps of her residence, trailed by the bespectacled, shorter Noela Vargas, her invaluable co-entrepreneur, friend, and vice president.
They were surrounded on all sides by uniformed, assault rifle-bearing Carabineros, with many more lining the streets and on rooftops surrounding the building. Still, the guards walked with enough space between them for the audience and camera crews to get a good look at her.
Junia Pinochet was much different today.
Instead of the military cape and dress grays or custom-tailored dresses and outfits she normally wore out when she went out speaking in public (which was rather often before the start of the conflict), she donned a simple gray pantsuit and matching blazer with black buttons with a white sash, with gloves absent. Her hair was down, she wore no makeup, and she made no effort to shield her reddened eyes.
Recent developments, it seems, had stunned and hurt her just as much as the nation.
She never really had to govern much, instead dealing with affairs of the state and constitution- under her policies and the benevolent oversight of her colleagues in business, the country effectively ran itself- not smoothly, but certainly well.
But the people needed her today, her fighting spirit and her cheery flair, her sharp wit and clever tactics.
They weren’t seeing much of it as of now.
Junia briskly crossed the street in front of the palace, the guards and crowds following her to the center of the Plaza de Constitucion, where a barricaded-off podium on a platform and several microphones were erected.
She, Noela, two bodyguards, and a pair of sign-language interpreters climbed the platform, which was draped in banners of the Chilean flag, both the original La Estrella Solitaria and the new Negro Innovacion under her regime.
Adjusting the microphones and setting down a manila folder containing a copy of her speech, she gave one look at the crowd and smiled, her eyes still watery, before opening the folder and adjusting the papers.
She never used a teleprompter. If she was going to speak, either have a paper prepared or just goddamn wing it.
”My brothers, sisters, and good people of the Republica de Chile and her neighbors- I say hello to the world once more.”
The crowd cheered as it did in her campaign rallies, as with her prior engagements. She wiped another tear and waved to the crowd, still managing a smile.
The cameras, capturing every word and movement- her speech was in Spanish, but it would be translated into subtitles in various languages on the spot by company-hired specialists.
Looking down at her paper before glancing back at the crowd, she continued.
”It’s come to the attention of the world of recent clashes and skirmishes at our Eastern borders, of homes lost and families fleeing, harsh stories of war, hard reports of failure and those who died protecting the people.
News saying that we are defeated, losing, news saying that all of us at risk.
I will admit my mistakes. Our Armed Forces were caught severely off guard, as was our Private Armed Services Commission. I still commend and pray for all persons involved on our side, men and women of honor, whether Army, police, PMC, or organized self-defense. It was my fault and solely mine alone; my loyal administration are under my orders alone and I will take all blame.
I’m sorry.
I am not here to grovel at the Federacion's feet, but to repent at my peoples'- and while I ask forgiveness, I will not stay on my knees.
I want to be your figurehead, your leading lady, again, to defend my honor and the honor and freedom of Chile and its gracious allies."
It was here that she looked up from her script, and kept her eyes fixated on the audience. She raised her hand.
”Come, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters! Let’s show the world that while we may chase prosperity and freedom on our own terms, we can be strong, united as a nation! I’ve started this fight and I’ll finish it on top- no, we’ll finish it on top! We can not only halt the threats to us, but we can push on and reap greater spoils! We liberated Chile, ladies and gentlemen, let us liberate Latin America!"
The audience, waiting for a flash of the classic Junia that they all adored, went wild. She smiled again as tears began to form again, for the first time showing teeth.
Wiping them away, she stared at the close of the script she’d passionately penned, then sighed and took another deep breath.
”I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, as I always do. But I want everyone to hear this message.
I call upon the wonderful, brave Chilean people of the Republica Libertad, to guide me in my plans of action and for the betterment of our nation, and to continue their support;
I call upon the amazing citizens of Ecuador and Peru, who have backed me just as much as my countrymen and women, to continue to take care of themselves and others;
I call upon the incredible might and power the Chilean industrial machine, whose funds, supplies, and skills can bring us the weapon of more innovation to add to our arsenal;
I call upon all companies and private-sector organizations who have taken up a base in Chile or our allies, who can revitalize the market into an ideal fighting economy;
I call upon the courage and abilities our nation’s Armed Forces, PMCs, militias, police, and Carabinieros, to keep standing up for the innocent and the good and just, and to hold the line and push until the end;
I call upon my friends and allies internationally, for them to do what’s right and take action in our people’s names;
I call upon the people of the opposition, the people under the Federacion’s oppression, to resist, to arm, to enterprise, and prepare to defend yourselves…"
She paused once more, letting a teardrop fall onto the page.
”I call upon the spirit of my grandfather, who has himself repented for his own sins and dishonors, and his history so I can see my mistakes and flaws as Chile saw his;
And finally and most importantly, I call upon the power of the Lord God, to show mercy and forgive a lowly sinner at his feet, to show kindness for her people and the nation that has given her everything… and to carry us to victory on the field of battle.”
The audience stared back at her, as Junia gave one last grin and raised her fist.
"I thank you all- we are going forward!”
