UNFINISHED BUSINESS [MT/IC/CLOSED]

[Greater Carloso]

One year prior...

*** West Side, Kesslerstaadt

Clostroides abaddoni appeared out of nowhere. First it was a handful of cases spread across the Southern Furukuran Sea area, next it was thousands of confirmed cases being reported every day. The disease it caused was dubbed CaBI19, a deadly infection that caused severe dehydration and diarrhoea, almost certainly fatal for anyone with a comprised immune system. While the number of people infected grew gradually in most countries before levelling off; patient outcomes improving massively after the application of probiotics and antibiotics like vancomycin and fidaxomicin, the pandemic in Kesslerstaadt, a small but infamous city-state, quickly grew out of control. At the peak of the outbreak, one in ten people in Kesslerstaadt were infected with the disease, and over 300,000 of those had died. For those suffering from sexually transmitted diseases like HIV, CaBi19 appeared to exacerbate their condition greatly, triggering what could only be described as a cascading failure of the vital organs. As its alternative name 'New Sodom' implied, Kesslerstaadt's reputation for being an international haven of sex tourism and 'LGBT culture' had been its Achilles heel.

Besides the mortality, the city-state's economy had the proverbial rug pulled from under it, with even the most liberal countries banning travel to and from Kesslerstaadt. As tourism dried up, the country's indebted banks, including the huge Spitszuil Brothers, began to collapse as their debtors stopped paying off their loans and confidence in local financial institutions plummeted. Faced with a massive deficit and an extensive welfare state to fund, the Government of Kesslerstaadt was quickly ploughing through its cash reserves, with enough to only last few weeks at best. Worse still, not a single country or international bank was willing to bail the country out of the hole it found itself in. For the first time in a long time, the continued existence of the almost bankrupt city was in peril, the recessionary contagion starting to spread its tendrils across the Southern Furukuran Sea as well.

And then a very unexpected offer was made. With the clock ticking down to bankruptcy for Kesslerstaadt, a shadowy businessman named David Redshield, head of the burgeoning Redshield Foundation, offered a generous bailout of over a quarter-trillion dollars, with nearly no obvious strings attached. David had become renowned in certain circles for saving his company from the brink of destruction after the untimely death of his fellow family member James Redshield and infighting three years ago. While the public version of what happened was that James had died of a heart attack, his ashes scattered to the seas, in fact, he had been blown to pieces by a Nifonese drone on the direct orders of Shogun Maki Kojiro. Amidst the chaos and rush on the Redshield Foundation's trillions worth of assets, David deftly manoeuvred his way to the top, killing, bribing and blackmailing his own blood relatives along the way. To him, nothing mattered more than to have total power and control, regardless of the cost. With his position secured, he was now prepared to resume James' work. First on the list was seizing control of Kesslerstaadt, a vital nerve centre for the operations of Amihan Russel, the shadowy financier who was meant to have died three years ago. This 'generous' rescue package wasn't a bail-out for the city, it was a buy-out to make Kesslerstaadt David Redshield's loyal puppet.

Prime Minister Lumban Reitz was a cornered rat with no options left. His legs shaking with nerves, he sat alone at one side of a large mahogany table. On the other side were the three men David had sent as a delegation to coerce Reitz into bending the knee to the Redshield Foundation. In the centre, directly opposite the Prime Minister was Elazar Nenbauer, a tall, lanky banker with short grey hair and large, circular glasses. He pushed the glasses up to the bridge of his nose, delivering a menacing grin to Reitz. "We have great plans for your city, Prime Minister. Words cannot describe how eager we are to co-operate with your government as Kesslerstaadt recovers from CaBI19. The people have suffered greatly." Nenbauer began, clasping his hands.

Reitz squirmed in his chair. "We are most appreciative of this show of generosity by David Redshield, Mr. Nenbauer." he said, his voice trembling, "However, I cannot help but think that such an act of magnanimity by such a powerful international conglomerate will have strings attached."

"Indeed Mr. Reitz. You have spent many years as a career politician and should be well aware by now that rarely in life is anything free. In return for this bailout, the benefactor I represent, Mr. Redshield, expects a small few favours in return. Kesslerstaadt has always been a strategically important city and a hub for the enemies of the Redshield family. He would like to see that change." Nenbauer continued, "Our offer is $254 billion. In return, the Redshield Foundation asks that all government contracts in future will be awarded to our companies, that your government legislates to make the installation of our Direct Load Technology system mandatory and finally that control of your law enforcement be given to our trusted friends at DynoCorp International.

Beads of sweat dripped off Reitz's forehead. What this Nenbauer fellow was offering equalled turning Kesslerstaadt into a vassal state of the Redshields; a buy-out rather than a bail-out, but he had no options left. "I am willing to accept your offer, Mr. Nenbauer. However, I must stress that this aid is meaningless if we do not vanquish CaBI19. As long as there are flare-ups of the disease in the region, our city-states reputation as the premier resort for the world's oldest profession and as a safe haven for those on the run from the enemies of liberalism will remain in great jeopardy."

"I'm glad you asked, Prime Minister. Mr. Redshield messaged me this morning to say we will also be offering you, in return for the medical data of all your citizens, of course, supplies of our novel CaBI19 vaccine, Shamsieltine, developed with the help of the Sixth World Genetic Research Organisation. It utilises cutting-edge mRNA technology. We already have enough doses to vaccinate the entire population of Kesslerstaadt, which should finally allow your economy to reopen fully to the world and restore the city's image." Nenbauer said, assuring Reitz with his cunning smile that he was prepared to fulfil all Kesslerstaadt's needs, at a price of course.

Global News Network
(@GNN)
South End, Kesslerstaadt



Kesslerstaadt secures quarter-trillion bailout from Redshield Foundation

West Side, Kesslerstaadt - The Government of Kesslerstaadt has announced tonight that the city-state has secured a historic bailout from the Redshield Foundation, after two weeks of protracted negotiations between delegates from both sides. Reitz made the announcement tonight from the steps of the House of Representatives, where he was joined by Redshield chief negotiator Elazar Nenbauer. In a short address to the media, Prime Minister Reitz praised Redshield Foundation president David Redshield for his offer of a generous assistance package for the country's ailing economy, which has been ravaged by the CaBI19 pandemic in recent months. Reitz remarked that "With the help of Mr. Redshield, we are going to rebuild the economy of Kesslerstaadt in a green and sustainable fashion. His company has previously showed its great interest in realising an ethical future for us all, through its action on climate change, development of emission-reducing technologies such as the DLT system. Within the next few months, Kesslerstaadt will be in a better position than it has ever been before, all thanks to his generosity."

Funding to the tune of $254 billion, one of the biggest bailouts ever realised in the Southern Furukuran Sea, is to be released immediately to the Government of Kesslerstaadt. The sum will make up for tax revenue lost as a result of the pandemic, as well as contribute to a fund for Kesslerstaadter businesses to extract from so they can keep afloat until tourism to the country rebounds. The Redshield Foundation is also expected to buy up many of the assets of the city-state's collapsed banks, most notably Spitszuil Brothers. The city was facing further financial catastrophe had Redshield not agreed to provide the bailout, with mere hours to go before its final reserves of cash had been depleted, leaving its extensive welfare state with no funding left to operate. International financial institutions have refused to allow Kesslerstaadt to borrow money, apparently after coercion from the far-right governments of Carloso and Nifon, according to reliable anonymous sources from within the World Assembly.

Coinciding with the address, it was announced that the Sixth World Genetic Research Organisation's (SWGRO) Shamsieltine mRNA vaccine against CaBI19 will be supplied to Kesslerstaadt, with enough supplies to rapidly vaccinate the city's entire population within the coming weeks and months. It will be offered free of charge by Kesslerstaadt's public health system.

---

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Present day...

*** Atamsar, Jakarnapura

The International Shiva Consciousness Foundation (ISCF) was on the run. Expelled from its home in Bangka after a disastrous coup attempt against the country's government, its members had fled to the four corners of the world as countries began to realise what an insidious threat the group posed. The cult's leader, Chandradev Upadhya; who liked to be called 'Bhagwan', or 'blessed one' in the various national tongues of Sindhusthan, had taken advantage of the situation in the tumultuous and war-ridden countries of the Southern Furukuran Sea, establishing a new base for his movement in Jakarnapura, specifically in the town of Atamsar on the small island of Pali. Located in the middle of the jungle, any road connecting it to other settlements were poor, and any view from above was obscured by trees, making it the perfect place for him to hide. Several decades ago, Atamsar had been a significant coal mining town, up until a colossal industrial accident occurred when a section of the mine collapsed underneath some houses, killing dozens. Soon after, the mining company went bankrupt and the town was largely forgotten about, economically and politically. Since the beginning of the unrest in Jakarnapura a number of years ago, the town had seen no economic development. When Upadhya and his followers came in, bringing in much needed new customers for small businesses, the locals were more than happy to welcome them to their town. Since his arrival three years ago, Upadhya had built a compound around the former mine, constructing a lavish temple and residence for himself as well as dormitories for his followers.

Flying across the lake adjacent to Atamsar was a medium-sized tilt-wing aircraft, its propellers slicing through the air as it rapidly approached Upadhya's compound. Its wings suddenly shifted and it began to hover over a helipad, gently touching down. The logo of Siemens GmbH, one of the world's most powerful private military companies, was emblazoned on the side. The doors of the aircraft opened abruptly, a middle-aged man with a hulking physique stepping out onto the concrete. This was Steven Nordholt, the enigmatic lieutenant of the powerful billionaire and international criminal Amihan, accompanied by a team of elite security personnel provided by Walter Siemens.

Upadhya has been expecting a visit from one of Amihan Russel's henchmen, though maybe not someone quite as physically imposing as Nordholt. Since the failure of the Bankgan coup, Upadhya had been quietly sidelined from the activities of C13, and with so little of his movement now left, his usefulness to Russel's wider ambitions was negligible at best, his arch-rival, the 21st Jonchen Llama from Bod now occupying a much more prominent position with his powerful and utterly ruthless Buddhist extremist organisation. Amongst the other members of the C13, there were whispers in dark places that Upadhya should be gotten rid of so somebody more useful could take his seat in the organisation.

Nordholt looked rather out of place amongst the cultists that dotted Upadhya's compound, wearing a pinstripe black suit and navy tie. A young man, probably in his early twenties at most, wearing an orange robe approached Nordholt as he walked forward from the aircraft. "Mr. Nordholt, my name is Swami Mahanta. The Bhagwan will see you in his private office. Please, follow me." Mahanta gestured to Nordholt. He said nothing and just followed the young man, two of his bodyguards in tow. They were guided through a series of alleyways and then a dusty courtyard, the Siemens mercenaries keeping their hands close to their Type 2V Tactikawa rifles.

The other cultists glared at Nordholt and his men as they passed by, muttering hushed whispers as they wondered who these men were. After a couple of minutes, Mahanta brought them up a flight of stairs and down a final hallway before they came to the double doors that marked the entrance to Upadhya's personal quarters. The young man silently bowed his head and walked away, leaving the three men to meet the guru on their own. Without hesitation, Nordholt swung the two doors wide open and walked into the room. He restrained himself from shaking his head at what he saw before him.

He found Upadhya surrounded by a gaggle of scantily clad women. They seemed shocked to see Nordholt and his hulking bodyguards. The guru whispered in the ear of one of them and asked them to leave, the group of young girls walking out briskly through a side door. Upadhya slowly got up from his bed and looked at Nordholt with eyes indicating his great displeasure with having one of Russel's enforcers disturbing his mid-day routine.

"Steven Nordholt! You dare disturb the Supreme Lord of All Things and Avatar of Nandi! Shiva!?" Upadhya shouted angrily, "This better be important!"

"When you joined C13, Upadhya, you accepted the authority of my boss, Mr. Russel." Nordholt reminded him, "On his behalf, I outrank the 'Supreme Lord of All Things'." he grinned, "I'm sure you're aware that some of your fellow C13 members are starting to question your utility to our exclusive international enterprise. Your embarrassing defeat in Bangka at the hands of a handful of Carlosian mercenaries and their Nifonese allies has some even calling for your expulsion. I am simply here as an arbitrator so we can work these differences out and preserve the strength of our organisation going forward."

Upadhya thought for a moment. "I would be lying if I said the incident in Bangka greatly shook my foundation; the demons ran us from our homeland after all. ", he said, turning away from Nordholt, "I am determined to reorganise and prove the great strength of my holy organisation to Mr. Russel. We will be successful this time!"

"Don't worry. I have a feeling you won't be failing us again." Nordholt said, smirking behind Upadhya's back. He rapidly pulled out a pistol and shot the guru several times, the cult leader collapsing into a messy pool of his own blood. A disgusted look broke across Nordholt's face as he looked down at Upadhya's dead body, "Mr. Russel has grown tired of your failure." His two bodyguards looked on absolutely stone-faced as if nothing had happened. "Liquidate his followers. Leave no trace of these fuckers."

One of the guards kicked down the side door that the guru's harem had retreated behind and mowed them all down with his rifle. As their screams reverberated through the compound, the rest of Nordholt's men turned on Upadhya's followers. Gunshots and cries of agony echoed through every building as the helpless cultists were slaughtered in their droves. The few that were armed had hardly any training and were thus no match for the elite mercenaries, who riddled their bodies with so many bullets without even the most subtle change in expression. Over these few minutes of terror, the head had been severed from the shoulders of the ISCF, its remnants scattered to the wind. Nordholt delivered a final shot to the dead guru's head. "Thank you for vacating your seat, Bhagwan. Now there is finally room for Moritzstein on C13."

[Palmyrion]

29 July 2021, 11:30PM
Rm 3048, Andalucia Suites, Delavin Blvd.
Quezon City, D.C.
Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth

[Listen.]

Pushpins anchored down pictures and coloured strings on the large corkboard that Royal Commonwealth Investigation Service (RCIS) Agent 2nd Class Alexandra "Trese" Kho had been staring at for about a minute now, her room lit dimly by ambient moonlight, a flatscreen television broadcasting in a hushed volume a late night show by the Commonwealth Broadcasting Service, and by a desk lamp on her relatively large coconut wood table pointed at the corkboard. The occasional soft mumbling of her thoughts broke the eerie, ambient silence of the humming air conditioner, the hushed murmurs of the television broadcast, and the gently gushing sounds of late-night vehicle traffic at the nearby Juan Carlos Garcia Avenue, into which Delavin Boulevard connected.

The pushpins and strings all connected circles of friends and rivalries that revolved around a recent string of seemingly related missing persons cases that she as am RCIS agent was assigned to investigate; this all involved seemingly progressive student activists (and a minority of conservatives) that not only went absent from classes for months on end after supposedly signing up and travelling for a long-term psychological study by a certain Moritzstein Dynamics, but also vanished without even a small fact of life: no social media posts, no communications with family and friends, not even an attempt to contact the ever-increasingly stretched law enforcement and internal security agencies of the Royal Commonwealth that were visibly shaken by the Gazgireyeva Assassination last 2nd of January 2021.

Posters advertising the said psychological study by Moritzstein Dynamics started appearing as early as June of last year, at a time when Palmyrian universities held mid-year classes with substantial face masking, social distancing, and reduced class sizes in an attempt to stem the COVID-19 pandemic that had just started to take root in the region. Weeks later, students started disappearing without a trace left behind after they departed for the psychological study, without leaving even a small proof of life whatsoever. Nothing except for perhaps a few that left their portable electronic devices - smartphones, tablets, laptops, etc. - behind, devices that she and her fellow agents assigned to the case found in officially warranted searches of the missing persons' quarters. Unlocking the devices could provide them with a treasure trove of evidence related to the case, but they needed only the relevant data about their interactions with Moritzstein: emails, messages, calls, letters, every sort of communication and the company would be strong evidence in their own right, with any data in the devices not related to the case being extraneous.

Alexandra knew with certainty that the posters wouldn't be posted without approval from universities. Any organisation in campus that would have expressed interest in posting that stuff would have incessantly asked Moritzstein about the study itself, about the methodology, the location, whether or not the subjects in the study can communicate with the outside world from wherever they'd be taken to, and where they'd be taken to. If so, how did those posters get posted up, under the universities' noses?

There was only one way to find out for sure, and that was to infiltrate a Moritzstein facility, preferably a local one. Which one, though, was the question; they could have sent them to only one, or to all Moritzstein facilities in mainland Palmyrion. It was also likely that Moritzstein would have front companies and shell corporations that would be a means to launder everything they acquire, sell, and liquidate, a fact that would complicate any investigation on Moritzstein whatsoever; if Moritzstein suddenly had to buy more supplies to sustain their operations due to the sheer amount of students they took in, they'd buy it through their shell corporations and front companies, and launder it all the way to Moritzstein. Perhaps the first thing to look at was which suspected shell corporations had bought more goods than usual.

These thoughts she wrote on a piece of yellow pad paper and pinned in on the corkboard before she clocked in for the night, turning off the television and the desk lamp after turning on a night light.

[Greater Carloso]

*** Ebon, Carloso

Students are disappearing. Since last year, nearly a thousand young people had vanished from universities around the world, seemingly at random. Few appeared to be taking any notice of the situation. An exception to that was Estebán Santander. With the formation of Carloso's new government in February, he had been promoted to Deputy President after George Spalding's decision to gracefully retire to the backbenchers of the National Assembly. Officially, Santander was no longer head of Conquistador, but de facto he was still in absolute control of the organisation. His long-time associate and head of the company's Special Reconnaissance Group (SRG) maintained a façade as Managing Director. This was simply to ward over accusations of a conflict of interest by the political opposition. Today, the two men were holding a meeting in Santander's office at the top of Conquistador's international headquarters in Ebon. They were accompanied by Ogden Castiel, a senior intelligence officer. A neat folder containing numerous documents lay on the table in front of him. Santander poured a measure of brandy, a Virona 1923, into a whiskey glass with four cubes of ice. "What do you have for us, Odgen?" Santander began.

"There is a pattern; every single one of these students had been recruited by a company called Moritzstein Dynamics." Castiel answered, "It's an organisation that claims to be involved in medical and psychological research. It has links to universities around the world, regularly recruiting volunteer students for its work in return for generous reimbursements. None have proven to be malicious or resulted in the disappearance of anyone, until now of course. Starting sometime in the middle of last year, advertisements began appearing in colleges across Musgorocia, Eulabia and the Southern Furukuran Sea for a long-term psychological study to evaluate unconscious biases, prejudice towards people of different ethnic backgrounds, homophobia, that sort of thing. As with many organisations involved in that field of work, some on the right side of the political spectrum have been quick to dismiss its projects as another elaborate grift, swindling businesses and educational institutions out of millions of deroes while the current fad of being 'culturally sensitive' and 'politically correct' is in vogue."

"Does Moritzstein have any facilities in Carloso?" Santander asked.

"Not that we know of, but that hasn't stopped at least ten of the missing students coming from Carlosian universities. From what we can tell, the overwhelming majority of the missing students volunteered for the programme quite willingly, but a significant minority were known to be conservative and had a history of run-ins with university authorities due to their political views. Simply put, they were given the choice of taking part in this programme or face expulsion. Understandably, most chose the former." Castiel elaborated, "I've prepared several dossiers on these particular individuals."

"Luke Geitenbeck, 21, a student at the University of Dwanesbury in South Oceanica. He was a member of the United National Front and supported President Stanley Bowden in the 2017 election. He was hauled before a university disciplinary committee after an argument with transgender activists on camp. Apparently, he was reported for stating there were only two genders and that the term was indistinguishable from sex. He chose to work with Moritzstein over the possibility of being expelled." Castiel read, "Jérôme Barbois, 19, studied Law & Philosophy at Marcuseborg People's University in Thouthen. His parents were refugees from Bourgougia who escaped the country during the chaos of the 1990s after the collapse of Lemaigre's regime. He was accused of possessing 'anti-socialist' literature. He was given the option of working with this organisation or face imprisonment. Both haven't been heard from in months. There are dozens of similar examples."

The insidiousness of this could not be overstated. The disappearances were so numerous and the pattern so obvious yet they had barely been reported on in any news media. "Who is the leader of this organisation, Ogden?" Fulton asked.

"Jaiden Moritzstein. He is a wealthy individual who has made billions as an investor. The last year and a half have been a particularly successful period for him. He is a well-known socialite and has connections with governments and businessmen around the world. He was even best man at the wedding of the President of Cispania's son last month." Castiel continued, "Moritzstein has received much praise for his philanthropy, with this organisation being the vanguard of his work. God only knows where these students could have been taken to by Moritzstein. All we know is that, whatever has happened, it is obvious they are in great danger."

"Indeed." Santander uttered solemnly.

"I should elaborate on the particular case that brought the disappearances to our attention." Castiel remarked," A young Carlosian student, Elodia Pedregon, recently disappeared from Mino Circuit University in Zararcia. Ms. Pedregon appeared to appear of her own volition. She is the niece of Renato Pedregon, an NA with the Socialist Republicans. Carlosian authorities have usually been quick to stamp out any activities by the company elsewhere in the country, but the less than amiable relationship between the regional government in Zararcia and the central government in Madrigal has meant co-operation between local and national law enforcement hasn't been quite as effective. Since you're Deputy President now, Santander, I'm sure you're well aware of this already."

"I'm too familiar with it. Bureaucracy and infighting with the regional governments won't hinder Conquistador in this pursuit." Santander said with a steely resolve. He took another sip of his brandy, "We need to find out where Moritzstein is taking these students, and that will require a deft touch. Where does Moritzstein have facilities?"

On the left side of the room, a large, 100-inch flat-screen monitor flashed into life with a combined map of Eulabia, Musgorocia, Afruika, the Southern Furukuran Sea and America Libre on display. There was an array of markers in various points of interest. "Around the world, it would seem, with premises in Victory, South Oceanica, Simendosa, Palmyrion, Droomstaat and several in the Eulabian Union. The lab in Kesslerstaadt was shut down last year due to 'restructuring', interestingly around the same time the Redshield Foundation bailed out the country from bankruptcy. It was a target of some conspiracy theories during the early days of the pandemic, including claims that this was where CaBI19 was engineered during the process of creating a vaccine for the milder CDI disease. Anyway, for all we know, the students could have been sent to any one of these locations. It's impossible to say whether they are all being held in one facility or they have been scattered across the globe."

"I would find it hard to believe that Moritzstein would send all the students to one of these locations." Fulton interrupted, "Unless he is starving them to death, the increase in demand for supplies when the numbers of employees will have stayed relatively the same would arouse suspicion from authorities."

Santander rose from his chair and walked towards the windows of his office that overlooked the streets of Ebon, pondering his options. "There is only one way to find out; we must infiltrate." he said.

*** Atamsar, Jakarnapura

The smell of burning flesh wafted through Atamsar, the liquidation of the ISCF nearing completion. The Siemens mercenaries had gathered the bodies of the cultists into several piles and doused them in petrol, setting them ablaze to destroy any evidence of the organisation's operations. Other mercenaries were busy wiping any computer, phone or similar devices they could find. Though the overwhelming majority of the followers and their families had been slaughtered, about a dozen or so remained alive on Nordholt's orders, aware of Moritzstein's work and the potential usefulness of more 'willing' volunteers. It was time for him to report to his boss on the success of the mission. The scarred face of Amihan Russel flashed into view on a large screen in front of Nordholt as he stood in Upadhya's private chambers.

"Nordholt, I trust everything went to plan?" Russel asked, breathing a heavy sigh.

"Upadhya and his followers are dead and we are in the process of destroying their devices. No casualties on our side." Nordholt reported.

"Excellent work. Are any of his followers still alive?" Russel inquired as he drew on a cigarette.

"We kept some of them alive, about twelve. They were found after the initial phase of the liquidation. We were debating whether to execute them." Nordholt said.

"I knew I could always count on you. Moritzstein will take any surviving members. I've despatched an aircraft to collect them and bring them to his base. I have already informed him that there is now a seat for him on C13. You can return to me once you've completed the purge of their devices and gotten rid of the bodies." Russel finished. He disconnected and the screen went black. Several hours later, Nordholt departed Atamsar in the tilt-wing aircraft he has arrived in and the few survivors were collected by Russel's men. Of those that had perished, nothing was left of them but a few piles of ash that were gradually dissipated by the wind and rain.

[New Aeyariss]

*** Ishikawa

"It is quite a machine, isn't it? We have spent millions developing it - and now we are expecting it to pay off."

Maki Kojiro's office was spartan, plain and scarcely decorated, if one did not count a massive Nifonese flag and a daisho standing on a rack - a symbol of Nifonese tradition. The Nifonese shogun satisfied himself with a simple pair of wooden brown chairs, and a short desk, eternally clogged with documents and reports. Today, this small room served as a meeting between Nifonese dictator and his two most trusted commanders - Inspector General of the Armed Forces and Marquess of Aizu, Yamaguchi Kaien, and Cheif of General Staff of the Imperial Nifonese Army, Adm. Takeda Daisuke.

In front of them were pans of Nifon's most advanced UAV project yet. The machine had over 50 meters wingspan and was supposed to say the air for over a week. It resembled a massive flying wing, thin and wide - and with that immersly ugly.

"As if a simple piece of junk could ever match the Nifonese fighting spirit!" boasted Kaien, looking in front of himself "wars aren't won by shiny toys that tend to break too quickly."

"And yet those shiny toys give us the edge we need." countered Admiral Takeda "Take a look at this UAV. If we had them back in 1983, perhaps the slaughter of Likeng may have been avoided... "

"Don't say as if you know what went there..." came a sharp reply from Yamaguchi "While you sat comfortably in your ship, my men were slaughtered..."

Maki Kojiro eyed his generals. Kaien he trusted with his life. Both men practically grew together and considered themselves sworn brothers ever before the red monsoon. Daisuke on the other hand, he didn't trust at all - but also saw as far easier to manipulate. The admiral wanted power, and this fact resulted in his desires being easily known - and used - against him by the Nifonese shogun. Still, the further he dwelt in the party, the less he could trust his old comrades, which grew more corrupt with each passing day, parasitizing on his past victories like a gang of ticks.

"Gentlemen, as much as I admire this piece of military equipment, it is the result of the reason, not the reason itself why I called you here." He paused "We all know what we need to maintain our dominance in the AI and unmanned technologies over our competition?"

"Resources. Rare Earth Minerals to be precise. " pondered the Inspector General "Kojiro-sama you don't...."

"I do" smiled the Nifonese Shogun "It is about time the festering cancer called Altaia been wiped out of the map. The international circumstances are perfect for it, and I intend to loot the burning house."

General Yamauchi pondered his friend's words. True, he always wanted to see Baron von Yungingen - Steinem deposed and Altaia liberated from the Buddhist theocracy that governed it. Takeda had more reservations.

"Kojiro - sama" he asked "you do realize that it has a chance to pull us into another long war?"

"I do" Maki looked straight into the eyes of his admiral "Yet at this point, securing a steady access to rare earth minerals is a necessity of highest degree. We will launch invasion in four months. This fall will be the time when we free ourselves from Cassadian dominance of the REM market."

[Inyourfaceistan]

Undisclosed Location, Borasoles; Inyursta

---

Jaquin LaFiteo, an investigator in the ISD's internal affairs section, sat in a surprisingly cushy conference room surrounded by men & women in lab coats and casual button-up shirts. Considering half of the people in the room were analysts of some caliber, he knew the lab coats were purely decoration pieces and tools of "look at me" from the group to show how sciencey they were.
He had already separately interviewed everyone who was anyone at this facility, and their stories both matched up and functionally cleared them of wrongdoing in the CaBI-19 fiasco - other than the obvious sin of literally creating a bioweapon. Simply put, the facility received a false request from what they thought was NIS, a forged request, a very convincing forgery that could have only come from someone with intimate details of the inner workings of Inyurstan intelligence. They provided the sample, as requested, to what they thought was an NIS inspector.

"Well then, toutos, what have we learned?" Jaquin asked.
"Quite a few things, actually. First, we greatly underestimated the potential spread of C-2.1A outside of err... anal-specific sex acts. Simply put, it actually underperformed as an STI across all categories of sex acts. Secondly, we also underestimated its ability to retain anti-microbial resistance. It would seem that generational change while in both storage deployment resulted in an unexpectedly high % of the post-release population being vulnerable to the very anti-biotics we primed them against." Dr. Jean-Piro Holache, the lead facility manager began, explaining the short-comings of his lab's creation.
"In a future scenario, we recommend waiting until within 96 hours of deployment to initiate a primary population priming, before an ideal 12-24 hours before secondary population priming" Added Dr. Fernando Feladia, a microbial microbiologist with a past service history in the Inyurstan air force.
"Indeed. Lastly we also learned that C-2.1A and C-2.1B series - "
"No, no, no!" Jaquin interjected, exasperated at the oblivious biologists who seemed more concerned about the physiology of their bacterial creation than the political ramifications of the fact that they had unwittingly unleashed their creation onto the world. "What you SHOULD HAVE learned is that NO SPECIMEN, not one vial, not one Petri dish, not one micro-canister of powder, NOTHING, is to leave this lab without multiple vocal confirmations directly from Castille. Do we all understand?"
The group of scientists gently nodded and murmured in agreement, knowing that them keeping their jobs had more to do with orders from high places in the capitol than any ISD internal man, but still unwilling to offend the man who technically cleared them of undoing.

As the researchers and lab techs filtered out of the room, Jaquin casually asked Dr. Feladia what she thought about the new anti-CaBI vaccines.
"I've already got five lineage specimens that can beat it. I can work on giving them antibody-dependent enhancement if you want? You know, to make it extra-dangerous to vaccinated individuals?" She answered.
"No... That's above my pay grade and not what I was asking..." he sighed.

---

Baitmas D'Intelligenceas, Castille de Terro; Inyursta

---

One short jet ride later, and Jaquin was back in the once-fortified capitol sitting in yet another conference room. His coworker, fellow internal investigator Camilla Lucretta, took her seat next to him. Her hair was still in a bun but barely misshapen with loose strands in her face. Jaquin's own eyes were drowsy and kept alive through the copious amounts of coffee he had been consuming - and none of the good, local shit homegrown in the tropics mixed with creme-de-leche from the rainy fields of Marindino, but rather the generic processed coffee grounds and corporate-brand creams.
"Rough car ride?" He asked her, mocking the fact she didn't have to cross water to get between her investigatees and the meeting they were both about to attend.
"No. Have you met spooks? Like the kind of who are used to keeping up with door-busters and snake-eaters? They treated the whole investigation like it was some kind of after-action review!"
"Cami, I just had to spend weeks investigating biologists. Bonna Dieox! I swear if an alien race came to wipe out all humanity they would nerd out over its cell structure." Jaquin decried as more ISD agents filtered in. They were both a bit surprised when at least three NIS officers entered the room - despite being the organization under internal investigation.

However nothing had been normal since the CaBI-19 "incident". Even for a nation that dealt in chaos and disarray, the internal fallout of one mislabeled vial dripped into the sauce of a leading Homofront financier's dinner was something of complete confusion and shifting scenarios for which their was no protocol. It had utterly shook the Inyurstan intelligence community in a number of ways.
First, it showed that their chain of command was exploitable, that the relative independence of intelligence cells and operatives was a recipe for turning their own HUMINT against itself. It made them wonder how much false information had been gathered, targets unsuccessfully identified, assets wrongly recruited - and all that could be done.
Secondly, it was a slap to their ego and pride of being an unironic pariah that simply didn't care what the rest of the world thought about them. Simply put, someone had shown that even the Inyurstans at the end of the day still had to have some fear and respect for international reactions and backlash.
And finally it showed something else. Something more sinister and situationally problematic. Something at the center of this meeting.

ISD Director Elena Perez D'Arnaut entered the room, and suddenly the entire table went erect in their seats, no one daring to slouch in the presence of the puma-faced woman with silver hair and narrow reading glasses. Her Subdirector, Arnaldo LaTroufe, stood beside her like a golem beside its host.
"Mis gentes, as some of you may have guessed, we are dealing with a mole."

---

Rewel Province; Lolloh - May 2007

---

Honnir Kevelrik rode in the back seat of the short VIP car along with his father, Honvik Kevelrik, a member of the Lollohian parliament fleeing from Inyurstan forces during the events known as "Crimson May". Shockwaves from bombs going off and the roars of jet engines flying overhead could be heard even with the windows rolled up. The flashes of those very bombs exploding in the distance caused bright flashes in the night sky, while the broken beam-like traces of anti-air fire racing up into the blackness of the night.
"Dad, why are they chasing us?"
"Because they want to destabilize our government."
The convoy then had to reroute off the highway due to attacks on a bridge up ahead. A young Honnir listened in to the soldiers on the radio conversing with the body guards driving the car, discussing the bridge attack.
"Dad, why are they bombing the bridges?"
"So that we can't drive on them."
Their new route brought them past a number of oil refineries on the smaller inner-provincial highway, two of which were on fire in a raging inferno which sent glowing columns of smoke into the dark sky.
"Dad, why are the bombing the oil?"
"So that they we can't use it or sell it."

Then the car at the front of the convoy exploded, launching up into the air and landing back in the road, bringing the whole line of vehicles to a halt. Before the drivers could reverse, the whole convoy was engulfed in fire from either direction. One by one, those soldiers and parliamentary security not killed in the initial ambush salvo were picked off. Finally the guns fell silent.
Black-clad men in scary-looking goggles surrounded the car. Honnir began to whimper as they opened the doors of the car.
"Don't be afraid, son. They want us to be afraid" His father said as the Inyurstans dragged him from the car.
Honnir broke into a full blown cry as he heard the sounds of two gunshots just outside the car. He opened the door and ran around to the side of the car, where his father was lying dead in the street. On his lifeless corpse was a playing card: The two of diamonds.
He watched as a pair of helicopters lifted off and disappeared... All the while holding the playing card they left on his father...

[Greater Carloso]

*** Edessa, Carloso

It was not often that Régulo Arenas had the luxury of taking leave. Amidst the increasingly more anarchic nature of the world order, the demand for private military contractors had never been higher. At least the money was good; like many who joined Conquistador's ranks, Arenas sought an income greater than anything he could ever have attained if he had decided to continue service with the Carlosian Army. Now that his three-month deployment as part of an SRG unit in Cispania had come to an end, he could enjoy two weeks of freedom at home in Edessa, a medium-sized city in the province of Sirune. He sat at one of the benches in the middle of the huge hall that formed the spine of the Edessa Commerical Centre, a premier shopping destination full of stores selling high-end fashion, technology and various other goods. His wife, Melania, had gone shopping in Santina, a popular chain of stores in Carloso tailored towards women's clothes. The thought of following her around, milling about the aisles and looking at dresses while he lugged shopping bags around was his idea of Hell. He was content with relaxing and watching his fellow citizens go about their business.

He observed his surroundings, first glancing at an advertisement for the new Arteta Sidora, then another one about an anime loosely based on the perennially popular Nifonese national epic Sonjō Monogatari. Then his attention was drawn to an RTC news bulletin playing from a small screen; "Authorities in Jakarnapura report that a massacre has occurred in the town of Atamsar amidst growing religious unrest in the area. The perpetrators remain unknown, and it is believed there were no survivors." the middle-aged presenter bleated flatly, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous shopping centre. Just another incident in a far-off land that somebody like himself would eventually be sent to resolve, Arenas thought. He had largely grown desensitised to hearing about such tragedies, having seen all the depravity man is capable of during his service all across Musgorocia.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arenas could see a man approaching his bench. He seemed inconspicuous, youngish and wearing a dark grey sweater. He sat beside him. "Mr. Arenas, Operator Darien Sanson, SRG, my apologies for interrupting you, but you are wanted in Ebon. It is of the utmost importance."

Arenas rolled his eyes in furious annoyance. "Can I not have just two fucking weeks to myself for once?"

"I would be as equally pissed off if my leave had suddenly been cancelled like that, but I must stress you don't have a choice here; there's a Secutor from S9 involved." Sanson clarified.

Arenas blinked for a moment. This was serious. S9 of the National Intelligence Office (NIO), commonly known as 'Secutors', were agents who reported directly to the President of Carloso and were effectively immune from prosecution. The position was a relatively new one, shrouded in secrecy though thought to have originated out of President Tobón's desire to bypass the chain of command of the Carlosian Armed Forces without the possibility of orders becoming 'lost' along the way. Though their existence was an open secret in Carloso, the identities of the Secutors was a ruthlessly guarded secret. They could quite literally get away with murder.

"A Secutor? Jesus..." Arenas murmured, "Well then, just let me tell my wife. We can continue this conversation someplace more secure."

*** Ebon, Carloso

The sun was beginning to set on Carloso. As it did, a small tilt-wing aircraft rounded the side of the Conquistador's headquarters and touched down on a helipad nestled into a notch in the building's structure. The rotors whirred to a stop, while Sanson and Arenas emerged from the aircraft's interior. Arenas took the time to examine his surroundings, reacquainting himself with the colossal scale of the company's skyscraper. A lone figure walked towards them, whom Arenas immediately recognised as Oalo Mercia, a veteran mercenary. Mercia was a legend amongst intelligence circles in Carloso. Formerly employed by Conquistador, he had more recently worked with the National Intelligence Office (NIO). Most famously, he led the assault on Chandradev Upadhya's base in Bangka to rescue a fellow agent who had been captured while infiltrating a brothel beneath his cult's main temple in Ubud.

Through Arenas' actions, he had helped prevent sympathetic elements of the country's military from launching a coup and Upadhya was severely weakened. However, it would be most remembered for ultimately involving the compound being levelled by a pair of strafing J52 Arcángels with their rear-mounted 105 mm howitzers. Needless to say, the sight of what was effectively flying heavy artillery had been enough to strike the fear of God into the cultists and provided plentiful cover fire while Mercia and his squad escaped to an awaiting helicopter. His bravery during this incident was just one of many examples that had earned him much respect from his colleagues.

"I believe you have already met our Secutor, Commander Mercia. Seems like no matter how hard he tries to get away from here, he always somehow gets dragged back." Sanson quipped.

Mercia rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Sanson. Nice to see you again, Arenas." The two men shook hands.

"I was sent down to meet you. The others are waiting for us a few floors up. I can give you the brief version of what is going on while we get there." Mercia said, leading Arenas away from the helipad and into the building. "For the last year, there have been reports of people, mostly students, disappearing all over the world. It appears to be linked to a company called Moritzstein Dynamics. Every one of these individuals appeared to have enrolled in a programme of theirs studying so-called 'unconscious biases'. Now the disappearances have spread to Carloso, Zararcia specifically, which is what brought this to our attention. We've no leads on where they've gone, but that isn't going to stop us from investigating."

"And how does this involve me?" Arenas asked.

"Oh, you'll see." Mercia foreboded.

[Great Altaia]

*** Manryngol, Altaia

Jaiden Moritzstein was one amongst hundreds who had gathered to witness the event which was about to occur at the tent city of Manryngol. His tall, Caucasian form made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the stocky Altaians. The arena was overlooked by two great stone monuments which had been carved in the likeness of horseheads. The attention of the crowd was drawn to a convoy of battered pickups that drove at full speed into the arena. The convoy provoked a flurry of cheers from the crowd, driving around in a loop that mimicked the circling tactic which the Altaians centuries ago would have used to crush their more numerous enemies. Eventually, the vehicles stopped. Doors swung open and numerous hulking Altaian warriors emerged. They dragged several bruised and battered men out of the back of the pickups, ten in total, and lined them up on the ground in front of the Great Khan, Baron von Yungingen. He arose out of his chair to give one final verbal condemnation to the men. "You swore an oath of loyalty to me, the Great Khan of Altaia, and then you pathetic marmots betrayed me when you thought I wasn't looking! I offer you nothing but the most brutal punishment known to man! Kill them now!" he bellowed furiously. The weak, broken men could only whimper sorrowfully in response.

Chains were tied around the legs, chest and arms of the condemned men. They were then each attached to two opposing pickup trucks. A few moments later, Baron von Yungingen gave the order for the execution to begin. With a loud rev of their engines, the pickups rapidly accelerated and the men were each ripped to pieces. They had barely enough time to let out anguished cries before they succumbed to their utterly catastrophic injuries. Such brutal public executions were a common occurrence in Baron von Yungingen's Altaia.

A few minutes later, Moritzstein was standing beside the Great Khan. Vultures had swooped down to pick at the remains of the dead prisoners. "Have the wives and children of these scum boiled alive in oil. All trace of their traitorous seed must be wiped clean from Altai." von Yungingen directed one of his assistants. The obedient servant immediately set about ensuring that the order would be fulfilled. Moritzstein was stone-faced, wondering if being boiled alive in oil was a more desirable fate than what some of his test subjects had gone through. He cleared his throat. "The work my people are conducting is cutting-edge in medical technology and we will require many more test subjects before we achieve humanity's perfection. Your assistance to our programme has been most helpful." Moritzstein bleated.

"Humanity's perfection will only be achieved once all live under my banner, Mr. Moritzstein. I expect you to live up to your side of the bargain that whatever you are developing at your lab will allow me to achieve that." von Yungingen declared sternly, "Otherwise, the same fate awaits you as the traitorous animals you just watched being dismembered! Have I made myself clear?"

"Succinctly, oh Great Khan. I would not dare disappoint you. The masses will be reduced to docile sheep, incapable of resistance against your mighty horde" Moritzstein said, "The frantic rush by international actors to plunder Altaia for of its rare earth minerals has provided a perfect cover for the construction and expansion of our facility."

von Yungingen shook his head in annoyance. "Your grovelling disgusts me, Moritzstein. Go back to your lab before I have second thoughts of allowing you into my empire!" he roared. Moritzstein silently complied and walked away to an awaiting four-wheel drive sports utility vehicle. It rapidly departed from Manryngol, heading west across the vast steppe. Eventually, a large Mil Mi-26 transport helicopter rendezvoused with the vehicle, carrying it and Moritzstein away.

*** Sharshai, Altaia

From above, the great Sharshai Mine was like a colossal scar on the steppes of Altaia. Established by the Nifonese firm Hayashida Industries in the 1980s, it was abandoned when the corporation collapsed amidst the economic crisis that plagued Goya Kazushi's tenure as Prime Minister of Nifon, paving the way for Shogun Maki Kojiro's ascendency. Derelict machinery rusted away, having not been moved even an inch since being left to rot nearly forty years ago. In that period, amidst the greater digitisation of economics internationally, other countries had become the dominant suppliers of rare earth minerals needed for the manufacturing of microchips. Altaia's recent political instability and the rise to power of Baron von Yungingen made the country an even more unattractive place for foreign investors. More recently, the balance of risks was changing and the eyes of great powers, in particular that of Nifon, were once again eyeing Altaia's vast natural resources as global security concerns over supply chains continued to grow. A storm was brewing on the steppes.

Moritzstein's Mi-26 descended into the mine, scaring a herd of stocky Altaian horses that were grazing amongst the rusting machinery. The helicopter touched down and a pair of huge doors opened, revealing a colossal hanger that had been dug into the side of the mine. The helicopter taxied into the hangar and the doors were sealed behind it, concealed by some foliage that covered the entrance. Lights lit up the cavernous area, revealing at least a dozen smaller helicopters armed with an array of rocket pods, machine guns and missiles, all bearing the logo of Abbadon International Solutions. Waiting for Moritzstein outside the helicopter was Abbadon's owner and commander, Miguel Aquinas. "So, how is our host doing?" Aquinas asked slyly as Moritzstein stepped onto the concrete.

"He was... entertaining." Moritzstein said, still taken aback by von Yungingen's extreme brutality, "Have the new batch of test subjects arrived yet?" The two men walked towards an armoured door in the control room of the hanger. After inputting a code and using an iris recognition biometric scanner, the door to an elevator opened. As Moritzstein and Aquinas got inside the elevator, it closed and then began moving diagonally down the shaft, deeper into the facility. During construction, the work crews had broken into a vast underground system of caves. Moritizstein had the plans for the facility revised to incorporate them, reducing costs and the time it would have taken to build it by drilling through the rock.

"Welcome to Moritzstein Dynamics facility 04 Eurydice Station, Level A." a recorded message played over the intercom as the elevator doors opened. Moritzstein and Aquinas walked out into a hallway. Imposing and heavily armed security personnel patrolling the corridors. Their feet thudded against the hard concrete floor, illuminated by horizontal wall lights. A large chunk of the upper layer of the facility had been built in tunnels that had been dug out by a variety of boring machines, transported to Altaia through a shell company called Cherniavsky Resources. Officially, they were a reclusive Mirsk-based corporation prospecting for rare earth minerals. Their actual intentions were obviously very different. The level the pair were currently on housed the armoury, recreational facilities and accommodation of the staff, while the much more sensitive areas of 04 Eurydice Station were located at Level B lower down.

Aquinas nodded, "Ten specimens arrived this morning. They're mostly from South Oceanica, Palmyrion and Bourgougia. My men led them to their bunks and your scientists already intend to begin experimenting on them in the next few days."

A grin broke across Moritzstein's face. "Excellent, I was concerned we were running out of participants for our work. I hope they represent a step further in our mission to achieve humanity's perfection; their predecessors have been very disappointing so far." They walked through a plaza dotted with artificial plants and water features, various scientists and other maintenance staff going about their business.

"Have you thought about putting them down, Jaiden?" Aquinas wondered, "Those that haven't died on an operating table or committed suicide have been reduced to babbling idiots or the equivalent of feral zombies, far too dangerous to ever be left out into society again, I don't think they've much use to us."

Moritzstein was unimpressed by the mercenary's assertion, "I always thought of you as short-sighted, Aquinas. I will keep them alive to remind us all of what it cost to achieve mankind's ascension. I'm sure I'll find some use for them, eventually. It'd be a shame to put so much human material to waste."

[New Aeyariss]

*** Ishikawa

---

He was the monster of Nifon. The most cunning, deceptive politician currently holding the office of a party elder aside from Maki Kojiro. Under the pious facade hid an interior of deception and lust for power, which chose to use religion to realize his own goals.

Baishou Gin rose from the sofa and looked into the dark Ishikawa skyline. The city shone in the distance with glow of millions of neon lights, which deeply contrasted with traditional architecture of Akagi castle visible in the distance, which still seemed like a dwarf compared to massive skyscrapers next to it.

"Both of us were briefed on the issue..." Gin turned around to see his friend, Ito Suzaku, emerge from the darkness of the room. Suzaku currently held the title of Minister of Internal Security, and was in charge of Nifon's domestic spying agency "The invasion of Altaia was given a go. We will witness first deployments to Mirsk in a month."

"From strategic sense it makes perfect perspective..." replied Gin "It is about time Nifon managed to solve this critical security issue. Kojiro-san" this word was said with extreme venom "Must have finally woken up."

"I frankly wish that konoyaro died already..." hissed Suzaku. The hatred between army intelligence and civil intelligence was well known "Then we would be finally free from the last obstacle we are currently having from the party being ours. His ideals are as foolish as his faith."

Oh irony, Gin thought. He did consider Christianity to be a foolish religion, made by men of power to manipulate the masses, make them weak and vulnerable to domination. Just the religion he needed to realize his ambition.

"This why I hate him so much" spoke Gin "We do not wrap things around. We know it is all about power. And to think the most ruthless silent killer who doesn't hesitate to cut hundreds of throats would take the Nazarene and his foolish ideals seriously..."

"Still his religion will have some uses..." Ito smiled while throwing Gin a small folder "Look at the contents."

Gin briefly eyed the folder, his eyes becoming curious. He had been no stranger to mind control, but this was on an entirely new level. While the person carrying out the experiments was using a left-leaning ideology of as basis, the party elder was sure that the methods will be as applicable to religious - based mind control as much as secular one.

"Who invented this?" asked Gin.

"Jaiden Mortisten. One of Russerru-san's associates " Gin's eyes twitched at mention of Amihan Russel "My spies report that there is highly likely that somewhere in Altaia he is having his main facility. Think of wealth of information we could obtain if we secured the research."

"We have to hurry then... " Gin urged "It will be a three months before the invasion force is ready. Dispatch your men to secure it before we have Gunpeitai sniffing around."

Gin gazed at the skyline.

"The time of Nifonese New World Order is at hand!"

[Greater Carloso]

*** Ebon, Carloso

Arenas followed Mercia through a labyrinth of corridors, eventually arriving at the room where Mortimer Fulton and Estebán Santander were waiting for them. It was quite the concentration of power and experience in one place. Arenas still hadn't gotten used to the fact that Santander was now Deputy President of Carloso. The room they were in was fairly bare, containing only a big desk, around which the men sat, and a large screen that was fixed to the wall on one end. Arenas instantly recognised the face of the man who was on the monitor; Commissioner Asier Volante, the head of the National Guard, Carloso's countrywide law enforcement agency. As Arenas moved to take his chair, he could only speculate about what his involvement in this matter could possibly be. Like many private security companies, organisations such as Conquistador offered a convenient outlet for plausible deniability in the foreign policies of great powers such as Carloso, but this pattern of disappearances was uniquely bizarre, unlike anything he had ever worked on with Conquistador or during his time in the military. He eventually stopped postulating when he realised Santander was looking at him with dead-set eyes.

"Régulo Arenas, good to see you have finally joined us." Santander began, "My apologies for the short notice, but this is a matter of national importance. I presume Commander Mercia gave you the brief version of what has been happening?"

Mercia walked forward and took his seat opposite Fulton. "I told him the short version, sir. Commissioner Volante?"

Volante nodded. The former intelligence officer was dressed in an impressive, black police uniform with square shoulders. "I will update you fully on the situation, Lieutenant Arenas." he began, "Last week we received some worrying intel indicating that the Commissioner of the Zararcia Provincial Guard, Corazón Bosque, is a compromised individual. My sources in Victory acquired photos of Miss Bosque attending a party at the Grand Mireia Hotel from several months ago. The photos show her talking with none other than Jaiden Moritzstein. Ostensibly, the party was held as a fundraiser for the construction of a children's hospital in Zairo, and hosted by Mr. Moritzstein. As far as we're concerned, their meeting aligns perfectly with the beginning of the disappearances from universities in Zararcia. It might be pure coincidence, but I believe that Bosque and Moritzstein struck some sort of deal to allow whatever programme he has been running to operate without the interference of local authorities." Volante explained, "The ZPG has been actively trying to block our attempts to launch an investigation, claiming they have the situation under control."

"Indeed." Mercia nodded, "Over the past few months, Zararcia's government has increasingly tried to challenge the authority of Madrigal. President Tobón has asked me to investigate and use any means necessary to find out what is going on here, including any possible collusion with Moritzstein. Commissoner Volante here has wisely ordered his forces to restrain themselves from arousing suspicion so that the Zararcians don't feel cornered and do something desperate." Mercia stared at Arenas for a moment, "And this is where you come in. Elodia Pedregon, the daughter of Socialist Republican NA Renato Pedregon, disappeared from Mino Circuit University shortly after she was recruited. I want you to pose as a student at MCU and approach Moritsztein's representatives to enroll in their programme."

Arenas' jaw practically hit the floor. "You want me to do what!?" he muttered in absolute confusion.

"Believe me, Lieutenant Arenas, I wish there was another way to do this, but it is our only option without arousing suspicion." Commander Mercia said sternly, "You're a young man, still in your twenties, and will easily pass for a university student. As the Secutor in charge of this operation, I will use my resources to investigate Bosque. When I'm done, wherever they take you, I'll rescue you and shut down their kidnapping ring once and for all. That's a promise."

Arenas was still taking his time processing what he had just been thrown into, not that he had much choice. Disobeying the orders of a Secutor, a man who was effectively immune to prosecution under Carlosian law, was not a good idea. "I guess I don't have much of a choice. When do we deploy to Zararcia?"

"In two days." Mercia said, "An M97 Socoro will take us to Zararcia city, then I'll bring you to the safehouse you'll be staying in."

Santander, who had been silent so far, finally spoke up. "Commissioner, keep Mercia and Arenas updated on any new intel your people come across." he said, "It is imperative that we get to the bottom of. Needless to say, lethal force against anyone who stands in your way has been authorised. Dismissed!"

*** West Side, Kesslerstaadt

Over a year since David Redshield had effectively taken control of Kesslerstaadt, his henchmen had spent the last few months purging the city of anyone loyal to Amihan Russel. The Redshield Foundation continued to tighten its grip, and now almost every aspect of life in the city-state had the tentacles of Redshield wrapped around it in some shape or form. This was the price for Prime Minister Lumban Reitz's desperation as his country teetered on the verge of bankruptcy in the wake of CaBI19 pandemic. David peered over the city from the Tower of Baebael, once the site of Russel's headquarters and the location of his supposed death. Indeed, David was standing in the very room where the bomb had gone off, planted by none other than his relative Charles Redshield. Recently freed from prison overseas after an army of Redshield lawyers convinced a judge to quash his conviction for certain depraved crimes on a technicality, Charles stood behind David with his arms folded. He couldn't help but be impressed by how rapidly the circumstances of the Redshield Foundation had improved, having faced almost certain destruction after James Redshield was killed by a Nifonese drone.

"Rumours are that Upadhya and his cult are all dead." Charles said, "They were slain at the hands of Steven Nordholt in Jakarnapura. His place on C13 has been taken by a certain Jaiden Moritzstein, a self-made billionaire and philanthropist. He made billions off the financial markets and has dedicated his fortunes to 'accelerating humanity's psychological and medical evolution', apparently."

"I am aware." David said, drawing on a cigarette, "Moritzstein is a popular, well-connected man. He is also a masterful manipulator capable of getting anything he wants if people aren't strong enough to escape his charisma. Only someone like him could get away with kidnapping hundreds of young people across the world without being caught. That said, I am interested in what he could be seeking to accomplish. Despite his allegiance to Russel, I suspect it might be more of a relationship of convenience for him, a means of ensuring security while he conducts whatever research he is doing that involves these students."

Charles nodded, "Our takeover of Kesslerstaadt has given us complete access to the medical records of everyone in the city. Maybe if we were to offer it to him, he would share his work with us. He might even become our new mole within C13 since Aquinas' disappearance after James died. Moritzstein could be a valuable asset in our war with Russel."

David agreed with the suggestion. "It would be no harm to try. I will contact his organisation and arrange a meeting, and I want you to represent us, Charles. It was your idea after all."

Rolling his eyes, Charles mumbled something under his breath. "Of course, whatever you say, boss."

[Greater Carloso]

*** Zararcia, Carloso

To outsiders, Zararcia often felt like it was a completely different country when compared to the rest of Carloso. An informal arrangement with regional politicians at the time of the formation of the Federal Republic in 1956 meant that the province was afforded a greater amount of autonomy compared to other provinces, owing to the fact that it was the only part of the country where Carlosian was still the dominant language. In hindsight, this arrangement had aged poorly and in recent years Zararcian leaders were chomping at the bit to push for greater independence as the staunchly pro-unionist National Salvation solidified its grip on power from Madrigal. In the corridors of power, there were whispers that Chief Executive Miró Aradan was plotting with Carloso's enemies to find ways to undermine its control over Zararcia and agitate popular sentiment for independence, which was still very much a minority view in the province. It was only through a complex and tenuous coalition of parties in the Provincial Assembly; Líga Zararcía, Socialist Republicans, Democratic Party, Conservative Party, and Green Alternative, all opposed to the notion of yet another government led by National Salvation, that he was able to govern effectively.

One of the concessions made was the appointment of the Commissioner of the Zararcia Provincial Guard (ZPG). For the last two years, it had been Mrs. Corazón Bosque. A close friend of Chief Executive Aradan in university, she was now routinely accused of abusing her position and unfairly targetting unionist activists in the province. The central government in Madrigal had been unusually laid back with the matter, completely unlike President Tobón who was well known for his bullish, ultranationalist tendencies. It was as if they were waiting for the appropriate time to strike. The main headquarters of the ZPG was located at the centre of Zararcia city, a high-rise building looming over the streets below from which Bosque and her colleagues felt completely untouchable. Time would tell if it was safe to assume so.

Bosque sat in a plainly furnished office about halfway up the tower. She looked down at a screen where the face of Chief Executive Aradan was on display, his gravelly voice crackling across the internet. The matter of Jaiden Moritzstein and his operations in Zararcia were being discussed. Bosque remembered with fondness her encounter with the enigmatic man at the Grand Mireia Hotel in Victory a few months back. The cover had been a fundraiser for a children's hospital in Zairo, but far more insidious matters were the real reason behind the gathering.

"We both know what he is doing with these people, though I really could not give a damn at this stage. If the end result is that we have the means to destroy Madrigal and the very root of the ideology of Tobón and his gangster lackies, then I am more than happy to allow Mr. Moritzstein to operate in Zararcia uninterrupted." Aradan said, "We should go further and show our appreciation to Mr. Moritzstein, and make it clear to those that are resistant in enrolling in his programme that we will not be taking 'no' for an answer. That's as much as we can do for a friend of Zararcia."

Bosque smiled slyly, the reaction of a depraved enforcer and henchwoman. "I agree wholly, Mr. Aradan. I will instruct the ZPG detachments on university campuses that reluctant students are to be enrolled forcibly if needs be." She was almost licking her lips at the thought of it, "I presume you mean the reactionaries who have been sentenced to the programme as a matter of discipline..."

"Yes, Commissioner." Aradan continued, "Those who have enrolled willingly are like lambs being led to the slaughter. They need no more encouragement." He took a deep breath, "For the last two hundred years, our country has been dragged along with this Frankenstein's monster of a nation. I can only hope that Moritzstein will finally give us the weapon we need to euthanise it. Tobón, Santander, Moran; none of them will stop us from achieving this, for the destruction of Carloso is upon us all!"

*** West Side, Kesslerstaadt

"Protests by conspiracy theorists continue to escalate in Kesslerstaadt, and it is becoming increasingly harder to discern exactly why they are angry. Some hold placards bearing organisations opposing the implementation of the climate-saving DLT technology, while others bear crudely drawn anti-vaccine material. Many of the demonstrators have rallied around Aart Hissink, a prominent medical lawyer, who for the past year has made unfounded pronouncements against the effectiveness of vaccines, specifically that developed by the SWGRO against the deadly CaBI19 disease, repeatedly making false claims that thousands of Kesslerstaadters have died due to alleged side effects of the vaccine. Today he announced he was founding a new political party to contest city elections early next year, naming it the so-called Progressive Union. Authorities are currently investigating if Mr. Hissink and his supporters are receiving help from countries hostile to Kesslerstaadt's existence, which may lead to the demonstrations being declared illegal. Reporting from West Side, Kesslerstaadt, this is Osbert Rehbein for GNN." a news reporter bleated over footage of masses of people marching through the streets of the city-state, much to the indifference of an observant David Redshield.

Tensions had been steadily increasing in the city over the past year, as the resistance to the Redshield's take over of Kesslerstaadt began to consolidate. Running battles between proxies loyal to the Redshield and those aligned with Amihan Russel and his henchmen had left dozens of people dead, though Redshield's forces, spearheaded by the mercenaries of DynoCorp, were beginning to gain the upper hand. Any accusations of police brutality were effortlessly drowned out and discredited by the Redshield-dominated media.

Over David's shoulder loomed Elazar Nenbauer, who had negotiated the takeover. He grinned a malevolent smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Such pitiful protests. They change nothing." Nenbauer said, "If anything, these ungrateful cretins should be thanking us for saving their city. I suggest we eliminate this Mr. Hissink before he becomes more of an annoyance."

David rested his head on his hand for a moment. "Hissink will be dealt with soon enough. I already have plans set in motion for his disposal." he assured Nenbauer, "I am more concerned about Moritzstein right now. Part of me feels like I have made a mistake wanting to arrange a meeting with his representatives to discuss his research. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Charles."

"It will be his life on the line if things go wrong. Did Moritzstein agree to a meeting place in Kesslerstaadt?" Nenbauer asked.

"A private room on the top floor of the Pink Arrow nightclub." David uttered with a sigh, "Can't say it was my first option, but it's a bit more 'tasteful' compared to the rest of the establishment." He shuddered at the thought of that place. With five stories and five huge dance halls, it was the epicentre of homosexual activity in the city, and the site of a major terrorist attack by the Königliche Krone Wache (KKW) in 2016. When Kesslerstaadt was under the sway of Russel, it was a prime recruiting centre for Homofront and remained infamous for the utter debauchery that occurred on its dance floors. To call it a nightclub was a bit inaccurate even, as it remained open 24/7, many thousands entering its doors every day. Even though Homofront, which was a Russel-aligned proxy group, had been effectively expelled to the outskirts of the city, remixes of their propaganda songs would still be regularly played inside.

"Of course. In time Moritzstein will bow to your will, regardless of the meeting place." Nenbauer replied with a smile. Just as he said that the door behind him creaked open, a tall and powerful security guard walking towards David and Nenbauer. "Lord Redshield, Charles Redshield has arrived to meet with you." he said flatly, firing a salute at his boss. David silently nodded, his cousin Charles emerging from the dark of the corridor.

When the security guard left and the door was shut, Charles eyed David with a disgruntled look. "I hope you're not trying to embarrass me by arranging a conference in the Pink Arrow, David. The most your predecessor ever asked of me was to sneak a bomb into a Russel Financial corporate meeting, which I could at least walk away from relatively gracefully, even if the internal organs of everyone else in the room was splattered across the four walls."

David chuckled, "You were the family member closest to James before he died, and one of the few who haven't tried to kill me since I took over. I want you to represent the Redshield Foundation because I trust you."

Charles grunted, "Is it actually possible to do what Moritzstein claims to be doing? It sounds crazy; irreversibly rewiring the human brain to bring an end to unconscious bias and human conflict entirely. There is no way neuroscience or psychology has advanced in such a way that anyone could achieve that." he said doubtfully.

"And yet does it sound any crazier than what Amihan Russel wants? He wants to unite the world and do away with all the identities that divide us; ethnicity, religion etc., though Moritzstein appears to realise that the one thing standing in the way of him achieving that is human nature. As Xunzi said two millennia ago, humans are naturally evil and selfish. Maybe he has found a way to reverse this, or perhaps make people work solely in the interest of the common good." David pondered, "If we were to get our hands on his research, who knows what we could achieve."

It was safe to say Charles was regretting suggesting trying to contact Moritzstein. "The more time I have had to think about it, the more it sounds like he is trying to turn people into drones. I don't know if that is a good idea." Charles sighed, "But I really don't care anymore. Let's talk with his people and see what he can do for us, even if its just to finish what James started. His research is a secondary matter."

David leaned forward in his chair, "Indeed it is."

*** Ebon, Carloso

The M97 Socoro carrying Mercia, Arenas and Sanson lifted off from Conquistador Headquarters, moving its wings and five-bladed rotors forward to begin the journey westward to Zararcia. Within a matter of seconds, they were travelling at over 300 miles per hour, increasing further as the tilt-wing ascended into the skies above Carloso. As the sun rapidly sunk below the horizon, darkness enveloped the land, the odd few lights illuminating the relatively sparsely populated Carlosian interior far below. The inside of this particular aircraft had been specially modified for use by Secutors, including a personal armoury, a cabin and various other facilities suitable for an agent of the President of Carloso. It still kept the belly-mounted 20 mm autocannon that would be equipped to an M97 Socoro in regular service with the Carlosian military.

"Not a bad plane, Mercia. A shame every other NIO agent wasn't given one." Sanson commented sarcastically.

"Do something noteworthy for once and maybe President Tobón will make you a Secutor one day, Sanson." Mercia responded coldly, "I would have taken a J52 Arcángel if I had the chance, but there isn't enough room to swing a cat in one of those they're so heavily armed."

Mercia turned towards a silent Arenas. "We haven't had the opportunity to properly talk since you arrived, Arenas. My apologies again for tagging you along, but I know you are the only person who can do this." Mercia said, one ex-mercenary smiling at someone who was still served as a soldier of fortune, "Something insidious is happening in Zararcia, and I'm going to make sure we get to the bottom of it."

Arenas shrugged, "I don't know what I'm scared of most; the chance of being kidnapped and never heard from again, or the bitch-slap my wife is going to give me when I get home."

Mercia chuckled and continued on with his briefing, "You and Sanson will be going to Mino, a city not too far from Zararcia. As you are already aware, it was at Mino Circuit University that we have seen the most disappearances in the region. Your mission is to infiltrate Moritzstein's programme on campus by any means you see fit. Sanson will shadow you and intervene if your life is in danger. We hope to find out how and why they are kidnapping so many people, and where they are taking them." Mercia said, "I will stay in Zararcia and investigate the provincial government. I have some contacts in the city's less-than-legal underworld to catch up with. I've been ensured that the National Guard and a large force of Carlosian Army units are available to lend assistance if things really go up shit creek."

Sanson grinned, "I'm sure there will be no need for them to get involved. The three of us are more than capable of handling this situation ourselves."

[Palmyrion]

RCIS Complex, Taft Avenue, Ermita
Aragon, D.C., Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth

[Some calm office music, for your pleasure.]

The occasional soft mumbling of her thoughts broke the eerie, ambient silence of the humming air conditioner, the hushed symphony of her laptop (an Acer Nitro 5 with an RTX 3060) playing a playlist of pop songs via Spotify, and the gently gushing sounds of midday-traffic at the nearby Taft Avenue. RCIS Agent 2nd Class "Trese" had been sifting through mountains of evidence related to the university disappearances as early as 6 in the morning, having arrived at 5 and fueled only by a breakfast takeout from a nearby Joybee's^[1] and an unsweetened, unadulterated cup of black coffee from the office breakroom.

The evidence included dossiers on people related to the case - victims, facilitators, staff and employees of Moritzstein Dynamics, the whole sort - as well as news articles from various news sources about the disappearances and field reports that the paranoidly secretive CID were willing to (reluctantly) share with the RCIS. Of all the pieces of evidence that she had sifted through, it was the CID field reports that she found the most information, such as where the students were (supposedly) seen after they were reported missing, field recon reports on suspicious facilities in Palmyrion, and most startlingly espionage of Moritzstein Dynamics' field, office, and industrial operations conducted by the CID itself through well-emplaced informants within the company's rank and file. Huh, it seems the CID schizos can be prodded to work with what they call "outsiders" if the Lakambini steps in... Trese remarked to herself, and especially after she read of an order from the Lakambini herself ordering and authorising such an exchange of files between the RCIS and the CID, wax seal of the envelope broken to reveal its internal contents and signed "OPENED - TOP CAT'. Why, it was the CID Director, codenamed 'TOP CAT', that had the authority to open this shit.

She, however, hasn't sifted through one more piece of evidence about the students: cellular geolocation. Cellular geolocation was, at best, only accurate to 30 metres. It relied on cellular telecomms networks, which had a reputation for becoming grossly patchy in the rural and remote parts of Palmyrion. For Trese, however, this was still good enough for her to be able to pick out points of interest where she and her mates could start hunting. One by one she disconnected from the work WiFi and connected to the RCICNet, the Royal Commonwealth Intelligence Community's own intranet, and of which the RCIS was a part of. Here she could access geolocation data gathered and updated in real-time by member-organisations of the Intelligence Community, and she plugged in the cellular numbers registered to the missing students and altered search filters to narrow down to when they were last seen at the earliest.

It was tedious work manually putting their names in and tabulating the data she sifted from the geolocation database of the intranet into a separate Excel file, so she logged out for the meantime, physically disconnected her computer from all sorts of networks, and put it to sleep mode, to prevent any sort of malicious infiltration by someone else, and grabbed lunch in the in-house cafeteria Her work would continue later on up until 7 in the evening, clocking in for overtime.

---

MOUT Training Site "Doubletap"
San Isidro Sand Dunes, Ilocos Norte

Ready or not.

The objective: a simulated raid and barricaded hostage situation in an office.

"Consider this as your finals in Criminology, everyone." remarked MSG Glennel Quijano as SGT Nathaniel Pacurib, CPL Katelyn Macasisang, PFC Marco Hallado, and PFC Paulino Esperon, all recruits into the elite CDF-SAF facing their final test, assembled at the "back door" of the simulated office building for a silent entry.

The right tools for the job: an AR.101 with a silencer, a shortened 200mm barrel, and CQB optics.

"From this point on it will only be you and your fellow recruits carrying out this raid with little to no input from me during the whole operation." MSG Quijano foreboded. The recruits have been planning this raid the whole week: well-emplaced fellow recruits from Sniper School, simultaneous entry points made by other teams of fellow recruits, and a whole cordon set up.

The right mindset for the job: methodical and dedicated.

"You have been planning for this raid your whole week long. Good luck, recruits. TOC out." Quijano finished, as Pacurib immediately beckoned for Macasisang to silently unlock the door for their entry point. The only catch: all doors are locked.

---

Notes:

1. In-universe, Joybee's is the equivalent of real-life Jolibee in both GD and KY canons of Palmyrion.

[Great Altaia]

*** Sharshai, Altaia

Joran Blaese opened his eyes, dazed and utterly confused. He hadn't expected the fall into the space below to be so far, but for now, it appeared he hadn't suffered anything to worry about besides a few bruises and scratches. Just as he had thought; having meticulously worn down the concrete wall at the back of his cell for the past few weeks, there was a cave with a trickling stream of water on the other side. Miraculously, a sympathetic individual amongst the staff had passed a chisel through the slot normally used to give him his daily scrapings of food. With the tool he had cut out a section of wall just wide enough so he could squeeze through it; not easy considering he was over six feet tall and was quite broad. He had carefully removed the concrete block, not wanting it to fall into the cave and make a noise that would alert the security. Temporarily elated by the possibility of freedom, Blaese refocused himself, brushed some dirt off and squinted his eyes, trying to make out what to do next. He followed the noise of the moving water, hoping the subterranean stream would show him the route that would eventually bring him to the surface.

Extraordinarily intelligent but extremely stubborn, Blaese was a nineteen-year-old law student from Dwaynesbury, South Oceanica and a devotee of the United National Front. He and his friend Luke Geitenbeck had drawn the ire of the University of Dwanesbury (UD) authorities, once leading an ad hoc group to defend their fellow party members at a rally on campus when left-wing militants began assaulting them while the institution's security stood idly by and did nothing. They had also successfully petitioned President Bowden to launch an investigation into massive financial corruption in UD, including the disappearance of millions of dollars in funding and deliberate destruction of records by the administrative staff. As a result, Blaese and Geitenbeck had been hauled before a disciplinary committee, charged with 'bringing the name of the University of Dwanesbury into grave disrepute', offering them the choice of expulsion or enrolling with the on-campus programme being run by Moritzstein Dynamics on so-called 'unconscious bias'. Unfortunately for them, they chose the latter.

Blaese did not know how long it had been since the day he had been kidnapped, having been led into a random room on campus for a meeting with the person who was meant to be running the programme. He had drunk what he thought was a glass of water, only to lose consciousness over the next few minutes. When he woke up, he was in that cell. All he wanted now was to escape and get back home, though his thoughts were starting to increasingly be dominated by visions of enacting brutal revenge against everyone who had worked to bring him here.

He felt his way around the cave, moving closer to the sound of rushing water. Amongst the rocks, he could feel the slimy texture of moist lichens and moss. Eventually, he found the stream and, after about an hour of following its course, he could see the next few dozen metres in front of him were illuminated by the light of a full moon. Off down various tributary tunnels and caverns around him, he could hear the noise of squeaking bats flying around in the darkness. With a few exhausting steps, he eventually emerged onto the vast grassy steppe above, the moon and starlit sky shining brightly down on top of him. His brief few moments of relief were brutally cut short by the cackling laughs of two men standing several metres to his right. Blaese darted his head frantically towards them, seeing two heavily armoured individuals armed with assault rifles.

"The idiot actually fell for it! You didn't think getting out of here would be that easy?" one of the guards laughed loudly, "To be honest kid, Moritzstein was only going to see how you would act when the tools of escape were literally handed to you, whether it would arouse any suspicion. You're one stupid fucker for falling for this so easily. I mean, even if you got away you'd freeze or starve to death on the Altaian steppe within the first night. We'd kill you now but the boss doesn't like it when we damage the test subjects."

Blaese was lost for words, tearing up at the fact he was being so cruelly toyed with, and the probability of never seeing his friends again. He was close to collapsing on his knees in dejection. "This has to be a fucking nightmare! You've taken me from my home, from my fucking family, only to play this fucking game with me!" he sobbed, "At least I won't be eaten by an Altaian demon worm..."

"Demon worm?" The two guards turned around momentarily, confused. It was enough for Blaese to move with lightning speed and cripple one of them with a disarming kick. Just as speedily, he took the battle rifle and pointed it squarely at the one that was still armed, Blaese's face deep red with an unholy fury. Little did anybody know, Blaese had enjoyed partaking; and had indeed proved extremely proficient, in certain Nifonese martial arts. Even in this moment of apparent weakness, he had formulated the perfect ruse to distract his enemy even for the briefest of moments. Now they would face the full force of his anger and fury.

"Die!" he raged, his voice trembling. He shot the armed guard first in the shoulder, then in the head. The man collapsed into a pool of his own blood and brains, staining the steppe grass. The other guard was now utterly terrified, his own gun trained on him and held by a teenager in a state of blood rage. The rapidity of how things had changed left him in a state of shock, brought to his knees by a quick-thinking youth intent on surviving and regaining his freedom.

"Please... spare me. I was only doing my job. You can go and I won't say anything to anyone..." he begged, himself starting to cry at the prospect of being killed. Blaese looked at him straight in the eyes. With not even the slightest sound, he pulled the trigger, cutting the last guard down. He now stood there alone, his heart racing.

He didn't waste any time in scavenging what he could from their bodies, taking their clothes along with a map, a compass, binoculars, their water canteens, food and clothes. He would need everything to survive the harshness of the steppe. Now he had to get as far away from here as possible before someone came to investigate what had happened. He left the rifle behind and took a small sidearm instead, not wanting to carry any unnecessary weight with him. Checking the weather app on one of the dead guard's mobile phones revealed he was in a place called Sharshai. From there he deduced that, according to the map and compass, it would take him several days of walking eastwards to get to the nearest city, Khyalshir, which happened to be the second-largest settlement in Altaia. He left immediately.

Several days later...

*** Khyalshir, Altaia

As he reached the top of a hill, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining what lay in front of him. Only a couple of hundred metres away was a dilapidated but still operational airport, surrounded by the decaying remains of a wire fence. There appeared to be a few aeroplanes as well. Could he have finally found his way out of Altaia, or had the vast sameness of the steppe finally driven him to insanity? He really couldn't care anymore. He stumbled forward, cold, hungry and dehydrated, half-falling down the other side of the hill as he struggled. As he approached the wire fence that surrounded the airport, the exhaustion from what felt like an eternity wandering the steppe finally overcame even his willpower. He collapsed onto the ground, catching a brief glimpse of some blurry figures running towards him.

[Palmyrion]

UNKNOWN LOCATION - UNKNOWN DATE
Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth
Paul Martin Hesperon (MISSING FOR 7 DAYS)

Listen...

Blink.

Where am I? What is this place? It's a...a fortress?

Faint. Thud. Tossed to the ground, in pain. Blink.

Who are you guys?

Door shuts. Door locks.

"TOC, Scarecrow One Alpha. Nasa selda na si Hesperon."

Blink.

"Roger. Dadalhin namin siya sa shower room mamaya for Gulag Experiment One..."

Faint.

---

RCIS Complex, Taft Avenue, Ermita
Aragon, D.C., Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth

"Paul Martin Hesperon." Kho uttered to herself as she read the dossier on Hesperon. Hesperon self-identified as a bisexual, and only had his first committed relationship a year prior with one of his classmates, one Alfred Mirasol who was only six months his junior. The two have been studying in the same university for almost three years and both were to graduate with each other, earning their degrees in Anthropology.

Things took a turn for the worse when Alfred Mirasol was beaten to near death by classmates of his that professed the Kogyokist faith, and Hesperon finally signed up for the Moritzstein study. For this specific person, there were strings attached: Moritzstein would shoulder legal fees related to the trial of his boyfriend's attackers, if he would join the study as one of their volunteers.

If the abductors were any smart and wanted to avoid giving away their location, they would either shut his device down or leave it behind, preferably both. And do that they did. They secured his device from the lost-and-found section of the university he attended, and scoured it for any information related to Moritzstein - messages, calls, social media accounts, notes, documents, everything.

[Greater Carloso]

*** West Side, Kesslerstaadt

Charles looked out onto the streets of Kesslerstaadt as his chauffeur drove the car along with one of the main streets of Kesslerstaadt's West Side. Now and again they passed by an alley and he caught a glimpse of certain individuals engaging in activities which it was safe to say would have resulted in their execution via the brutal method of lingchi were it occurring in Nifon. Sitting beside him was Elazar Nenbauer, while on the other side of the car was David's half-brother, Jonah Redshield. Charles grunted as he saw the towering nightclub that was the Pink Arrow come into view. As usual, it looked like it was absolutely packed. The aftermath of OPERATION: Lot's Exodus, the KKW terrorist attack on the premises back in 2016, had failed to deter people from coming here in their thousands every hour of the day. It was perhaps Kesslerstaadt's most popular and infamous gay bars, standing at just over 119 metres in height and with a huge footprint to accommodate its many dancehalls. "I still can't believe they chose this as the venue. " Charles began, "I can think of so many other places in Kesslerstaadt that would be more suited to a meeting between some of the most powerful non-state actors in the Southern Furukuran Sea."

Nenbauer smiled, "I thought you were into these sort of places, Charles. Perhaps Mr. Moritzstein just has a strange sense of humour. We still know very little about him."

Unimpressed, Charles rolled his eyes. "I have my standards." he responded slyly. They were now nearly at the Pink Arrow, its garish pink neon lights straining the eyes of anyone who wasn't accustomed to the ambiance of the city. As their car rolled to a stop outside the main entrance, they found that armed guards had already secured the area, anticipating their arrival. They were quickly ushered inside coming upon the landing that overlooked the central bar and dancefloor of the nightclub. Strippers of various descriptions entertained the ogling patrons, all sorts of heinous acts being executed around them. Music blasted deafeningly while strobe lights momentarily blinded Nenbauer. They heard the lyrics of a certain song that seemed strangely familiar; "Under the rainbow flag we will march to the gates of their churches, in-hand our long and sharp blades. Homosexual revolution is the progressive vanguard, let the final cultural battle start!"

Eventually the men entered a side door and went up a stairs to the private rooms on the first floor. "I hope these rooms have been deep-cleaned beforehand. God only knows what disgusting things usually go on here." Nenbauer quipped.

A few minutes later and they were in one of these dingy spaces, a pair of Moritzstein executives lounging themselves on a large fuchsia sofa. As Charles approached them, they rose and extended their hands to greet him. "Mr. Redshield, a pleasure to finally meet you! I am Lorenz Asselin and this is my associate Edrian Westenberg, representing Moritzstein Dynamics." Asselin beamed. Charles simply grunted and sat down, Nenbauer taking the seat beside him. "I am here on behalf of the Redshield Foundation to ask about your research. Rumours about Jaiden Moritizstein's work and his allegiance to Russel has peaked our interest, to say the least." Charles began.

"You are well informed then. As you should know, we are conducting unconscious bias in individuals, and how it shapes their attitudes towards individuals of differing ethnic, cultural and sexual backgrounds. Mr. Moritzstein recognises that this unfortunate feature of human psychology means a unified world government will be inherently unstable and will ultimately collapse from within amidst the myriad number of fault-lines within society." Asselin lamented, "But through harnessing the wonders of psychology and modern neuroscience, we believe it is possible to develop a universal cure for this sickness. When we succeed, humanity will finally be able to live in harmony with itself."

Nenbauer raised an eyebrow, "Unconscious bias sounds like something that is controlled by several parts of the brain, not just one. Isn't much of the human brain still uncharted?"

"We admit that research has been more difficult then we would have liked. Some of the results from procedures conducted on test subjects have been... unfortunate." Westenberg interjected, "But we will get there eventually. This vision of Mr. Moritzstein and the opportunity our work is creating is too precious to abandon now."

"And who exactly are these 'test subjects' that you speak of?" Charles asked.

"Willing volunteers." Asselin smiled, "Well, some anyway. We have found that universities all over the world but especially in the Southern Furukuran Sea, Eulabia and Musgorocia have been fertile grounds for people with a suitable profile for our study. Students with 'unprogressive' views have young, malleable brains teaming with unconscious biases that are ideal for our experiments. In collaboration with university authorities, we secure their co-operation and move them to one of our many international offices to be shipped to our primary research facility in Altaia."

"So you kidnap them and turn them into mindless, lobotomized drones?" Nenbauer bleated, "Not exactly the most sustainable business model."

"What you are doing is fanciful but intriguing. If your boss has attracted the attention of Russel, then it must be worth something." Charles said, "Whoever Moritzstein is aligned to when and if that breakthrough is made could determine who comes out on top in this struggle."

"Then it is agreed." Asselin asserted, "On behalf of Mr. Moritzstein, I would like to invite you to our facility in Altaia so that you might witness first-hand the incredible work we are doing. Mr. Moritzstein himself will take you on a guided tour of our labs."

Charles pondered for a moment, "I will relay this to David. I can't commit to anything now."

"Take your time." Westenberg chimed, "Rest assured we are patient and benevolent business partners."

*** Hotel Row, Kesslerstaadt

Several miles away from the comparatively docile Pink Arrow; which in the Kesslerstaadter context was truly extraordinary, the largest protest against the Redshield's takeover of the city-state in recent months was snaking its way along Hotel Row, a collection of high-rise luxury accommodation that was intended for the countless deviant tourists that flocked to the city to indulge in its countless vices. The great mass of people, numbering in the thousands, moved at a walking pace, now coming up towards a hefty barricade that had been formed by the Kesslerstaadt Police Department (KPD). Of course, as part of the deal which secured David Redshield's takeover of the city-state, law enforcement had been contracted to the Redshield Foundation's own DynoCorp International private military company. Almost all of the personnel were ex-military, many discharged for dishonourable conduct and committing atrocities against civilians and prisoners of war. The welfare of the citizens of Kesslerstaadt wasn't exactly a priority for them, signalled by the looming presence of an attack helicopter overhead with a pilot who just couldn't wait for the opportunity to unleash his Gatling-type rotary 5.7×44mm machine gun into the crowd.

Amidst the waves of demonstrations, a conflict between two groups of proxies was silently raging. Now one side sought to escalate it dramatically. The South Oceanican refugees and Homofront commandos Gene 'Happy Daddy' Karlson and Aidan Meyer were indistinguishable from the rest of the protestors, moving along as everyone around them chanted a cacophony of anti-Redshield slogans. Karlson grinned as he looked around, knowing that these people, like him, were united in their disdain for the Redshield Foundation, but also aware that they would ultimately have to be sacrificed for the sake of the plans his superiors had for the city. Many would not be around to see what was to come.

Karlson and Meyer moved seamlessly into the crowd, smoothly navigating his way through the masses with their LGBT-themed backpack, proudly emblazoned with the words 'pride' and a love heart, both in the colours of the rainbow flag. They eventually arrived at the front of the protest. Once they got close enough, they threw both bags, laden with plastic explosives, over the heads of the protesters at the front and right on top of the police. As they quickly ran off, the bombs exploded, killing and maiming many of the officers at the front. Riot shields and debris were thrown into the air, wails of agony soon becoming audible as the ringing in the ears of the people close to the blast started to subside. "Terrorists! Kill them!" a police commander shouted. Almost instantly the staggered police opened fire into the mass of demonstrators with a mixture of rubber bullets and live ammunition, quickly slaughtering and gravely injuring dozens. Aart Hissink was amongst the first hit, collapsing into a pool of his own blood. As his life slowly ebbed away, he was overcome with shock at just how quickly things had changed. "Was it really worth the effort..." he muttered to himself weakly, finally succumbing to massive blood loss. Karlson and Meyer stealthily left the scene, everyone too embroiled in the chaos and carnage to notice them slip away. Moments later, the sounds of gunshots rippled through the city as the unrest intensified.

*** Zararcia, Carloso

The M97 Socoro touched down on a helipad at Zararcia Air Base, the military installation now shrouded by the darkness of the night. Mercia, Arenas and Sanson emerged from the rear of the aircraft. Mercia instinctively gave his surroundings a cursory inspection. An expansive network of barbed wire and concrete walls surrounded the military installation on every side, the grounds within illuminated by several floodlights. A Carlosian tricolour flew from a mast that appeared to be about twenty metres tall. He noted it appeared several different squadrons were stationed here, including the sole squadron of the only recently introduced J57 Ajutánt tilt-jet reconnaissance aircraft. Despite its tiny airframe, Mercia suspected the nimble gunship packed quite a punch for its size. After a few seconds, he finally noticed a lone man standing in front of him, wearing what looked like an unmarked version of the uniform often worn by Conquistador personnel. The individual stepped forward, a shallow scar apparent across the left side of his face.

"Commander Mercia, a pleasure to meet you." the man said, "Captain Vergil Schweitzer, Special Reconnaissance Group. I'm Conquistador's liaison for your operations in Zararcia." Schweitzer was obviously not Carlosian, speaking in what sounded like some sort of Eulabian accent, possibly Theedish. The confidence with which he addressed the Secutor before him indicated he was fluent in English.

"I wasn't told this." Mercia replied, "I thought having to work with only two SRG agents was doing to be the extent of my co-operation with Conquistador."

"I apologise, Commander. As a former employee yourself, who are aware that the agents of the SRG are perhaps the most potent weapon in Conquistador's arsenal, and any one of us is an investment years in the making. That includes Lieutenant Arenas and Mr. Sanson here. While the interests of our company and the Carlosian government are closely aligned, at the end of the day they are our employees and their survival on this mission is in our interest. As a gesture of good faith, however, I ensure you that all of Conquistador's assets will be at your disposal should you need them to complete your mission. I've been authorised to give you access to our local armoury."

"Whatever. As long as you don't get in my way." Mercia said, brushing past him.

"Excellent. I'll be here if you need me." Schweitzer replied, smiling.

Mercia got into the driver's seat of an awaiting Arteta Sidora. It was a sleek, metallic black with tinted windows. It was armoured, rated to withstand a 7.7×45mm Arakawa round fired from ten metres away. Sanson and Arenas didn't hesitate in clambering into the back of the car, relaxing into the comfortable leather seats. Mercia looked around, familiarising himself with the various instruments. He pressed a button and a screen flickered into life. It appeared the car had an internet connection. Mercia flicked through some options before finding a live stream of RTC, just in time for the nightly news. He began to drive away from Zararcia Air Base and onto an adjacent motorway. This particular section has been recently rebuilt as part of a widespread upgrade of infrastructure by the government in Madrigal.

"There were violent clashes in Kesslerstaadt today as explosive devices were apparently thrown at local law enforcement, resulting in several deaths. Police proceeded to fire into the crowd of demonstrators, killing dozens, including a prominent lawyer and activist Aart Hissink. After today's gathering was dispersed, there have been reports of further unrest in the poorer fringes of the city. Prime Minister Lumban Reitz condemned the attack on police, baselessly accusing the Nifonese government of covertly funding and training the anti-government protesters." the RTC reporter said, interspersed with scenes of heavily armed riot police firing their rifles at protestors.

Sanson shook his head. "It's been nothing but downhill for that shithole of a city since the KKW attacked." he commented, "CaBI19 was just the final nail in the coffin."

Mercia disagreed. "I wouldn't write New Sodom off so quickly. These recent spathes of unrest are probably just teething problems over the Redshield Foundation's takeover of the city. Intelligence suggests there is some sort of pseudo-war happening underground between the proxies of Redshield and his rivals, maybe even those allied with Amihan Russel if he is indeed still alive. Once Redshield's forces manage to gain the upper hand, I think the current problems will fissile out and everything will begin to return to normality soon enough, albeit under new management of course." he said.

A few minutes of silence passed, then Arenas spotted something in his peripheral vision. "Mercia, we've got company."

Mercia looked at the rearview mirror. A lone ZPG patrol car was following them. He exhaled a heavy sigh. "They shouldn't know who we are." he muttered. The car appeared to be keeping its distance. He remembered what the Section 9 requisitions officer had told him about the Sidora he had been driving, namely about the remote-controlled grenade launcher that was in the boot. He was half tempted to unleash it on the clueless ZPG officers if they tried to make a hostile move.

After a couple of minutes, the patrol car passed them out and sped away, the men collectively breathing a sigh of relief. Eventually Mercia came to the exit he was looking for, and he drove off the motorway and into the suburbs of Zararcia.