The Winds Roaring By (IC, MT)

[Republic Under Specters Grasp]

October 31st, 2034

Karunda Valley, Republic Under Specters Grasp

---

Deep within the midst of the countryside of the Grasp, where the cities are dispersed from the rest of the countryside, lays large spans of the landmass which usually lay dormant of human activity, usually populated by animals and creatures amidst the vast space between the more populated centers within the countryside. For one, across the Karunda Valley, would be a resort to private industry and testing, primarily towards the ends of both the RUSG's own military forces, such as the Anbeyn AFB settled outside of the valley which usually uses the area to as a bombing range. Outside of that however, was the Karunda regional headquarters of the Daghadt Conglomerate, a fortification set up to be a private airbase, to be a location for both testing of Paimon-branded aircraft, as well as a retreat for the executive cabal of the conglomerate. For one, of the ones currently resided there in a sense of panic, were mainly individuals connected to the heavy industry and defense branches, with those responsible for other branches being mainly estranged after the executive order for the conglomerate to suspend operations: and especially since none of them were given transport out here.

Across the base's fencing and walls, men in blue jumpsuits and helmets would wander the compound in patrols, mainly keeping an eye on throughout for any passing vehicles or sneaky folks trying to approach the base that may've slipped their perimeter scanners, which has been something common in recent memory. They've had to detain people within the base to be handed off to actual police in the last few days, around about a dozen random people with some armed with small firearms or knifes, with a couple still on base for private screening and interrogation. These men whom worked the shifts of searching were PAVISE: armed to the teeth with carbines, shotguns, submachine guns, and then the odd, rarer, but much heavier bit of ordinance that could probably kill an elephant... which was kept within the armory for the most part, though on standby with their safeties on, with all of the panic and death that had gone on to lead to such a crisis that came with boarding this base up. These brave men and women, of various levels of experience, were the private defense force of the Daghadt Conglomerate.

Or one of them, at least. The other, the much more elite and prestigious Escutcheon Limited, wouldn't be presiding over this ordeal in such a way, rather settled within as guards inside of the compound's executive areas, leaving the grunt work to the end of things which had more... manpower within their ranks.

At least they got the keys to the armored vehicles stored around the base. Even if the others had the keys to the luxury aircraft. Too bad that was all grounded by government orders along with their combat aircraft, which could make for much more of a useful tool for them in their patrols around.

The unluckier bunch had to actively roam the arid, shrub covered area, looking to find some sort of threat within the area while they roamed the flatland, unlikely seeing anything for the moment. At the same time, however, coordinates were sent towards the opposite angle of the two bases, pointed towards an empty spot settled around some rocks and bushes within the midst of the area. Within there, was a dead drop. Inside of course, was the promised refreshments: sparkling wine kept chilled in the cooler within the cache, along with small plastic glasses to go with the drinks, and kept nearby was a storage of breakfast puddings and smoothies kept within plastic cups, spoons taped to the side on each. Notably, there was around a couple dozen within, reserved with a purple sticker on each of them.

Along with it, of course, came a message towards the much more anonymous elements within the area. Tuned into the comms of the aircraft approaching, the armor rolling in, or the various lighter vehicles making their way towards the compound, would be their master of ceremonies of the night: the raspy drone of the text-to-speech voice used by the Khamsin to communicate.

THE KHAMSIN ROARS
WELCOME TO THE PARTY, FOLKS!
OVER A HUNDRED HEADS AND COUNTING,
WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD BE IN STORE?
LET THE BODY COUNTING COMMENCE,
AT ANY PACE YOU WOULD LIKE!
5 BILLION DOLLARS ARE AT STAKE,
ALL FOR YOU TO EARN AND TAKE!

Thus soon, unbeknownst to those within the valley... though well aware by those on the other end within Anbeyn, would be the start of either the longest day of their lives or their final day, as the Khamsin's winds blew towards the compound: and much of this gust was ready to blow it wide open.

[Gonswanza]

Insertion was easy. Helicopters delivered the bikes and men far from the complex, drones kept eyes on patrols, as the goggles soon turn the night into day. With the quiet rip of engines, the two teams split off, though the radio jamming interference was not noted by the drone, with nothing to create an obstacle for operation, a guided path followed based on a quick thermal survey to avoid proximity sensors.

Granted, it would be a while until they arrive, as their overwatch gunship was en route, using the same encrypted frequency hopping comms as the attacking mercs. A silent operation, as the modifird AN-22 gunship crew prepare their guns should support be called upon.

All the while, shadows lie in wait, as the Gonswanzans close in on their target from the south...

... Only for the teams to ditch their bikes near the fence, engage the guard towers, and prepare the line charge to breach the fence. Once that was done, an RPG round was used to blast the wall past the warped fence, as the gunship overhead and drones kept eyes on the complex. The noise would have alerted the guards anyway, thus,once everyone else had arrived, a few mortar rounds were unleashed against the grounded aircraft to ensure a total spread of chaos, along with intentionally pissing off the occupants inside... And making the party ever more exciting.

[Independent Republic of Boldonia]

Halington Regional Airport
Halington, Norfi, Provisional Boldonia

---

The hardest part for the ten Boldonians accepting the invitation wasn't getting into the RUSG, it was getting out of Boldonia. The Boldonian Civil War was an ongoing armed conflict on all fronts, air, land, and sea. Both the Provisional Government of Boldonian Northern States and the Federal Government of the Independent Republic of Boldonia had naval and air forces, in fact both being one of if not the most powerful of the non-superpower nations. The Federal Government of the Independent Republic of Boldonia was also not alone in its endeavor, the United States of America and most recently the Free Republic of Brasilistan had taken keen interest in supporting the federalists, the puppeteer and the puppet respectively protecting their interests in Boldonia. While all sides except for the radicals in Eastisle North seemed to be committed to upholding international law, none looking to intentionally shoot down a non-combattant aircraft without due cause, the federalists did have due cause in their no fly zone declared over all the rebellious states, even those held by the Provisional Government of Boldonian Northern States.

Luckily for the Mount Parlely Armed Services Company, the only Boldonian company willing to take the mysterious offer instead of focusing all resources towards domestic ventures, the question of whether a no fly zone could be declared and whether a no fly zone could be enforced were two seperate questions. The provisional air forces were competent and strong enough that even on the front lines both sides held back their aircraft to avoid needlessly losing the ~$66 million jets the Americans had so graciously gifted or sold to Boldonia. Neither the provisionals or federalists were keen to operate over their enemy's heartland, the provisionals reasoning was more publicized with the federal "Zone of Death" but the federalists also knew the provisionals had a pretty robust defense network established. The United States of America and the Free Republic of Brasilistan wouldn't stop any flights in the north, the former due to not even officially being a combattant and the latter both due to only just joining the conflict and following the same reason as the federalists. There was also the question of whether any side would care, inbound flights were the primary target of the no fly zone, outbound flights not so much.

A flight plan was chartered from Halington Regional Airport to neutral Manila International Airport, chosen due to it not having a hand in the conflict and its location west of Boldonia not necessitating any wide detours to avoid federalist airspace. The aircraft was a small Bombardier Challenger 300 owned and operated by a small Canadian registered private flight company, again chosen for neutrality with Canada not taking any official action despite Boldonia being well integrated into the North American economy, at least for now.

From Manila the ten men sent by the Mount Parlely Armed Services Company would use regular cargo and passenger airlines to get to their destination. Once in the RUSG they would collect two black SUVs of local make and model, bought by the company ahead of time, and simply drive to the marked location by land.

---

Karunda Valley
The Republic Under Specters Grasp

---

Along the way to the coordinates the Mount Parlely Armed Services Company would stop in normal civilian regions and buy packs of bottled water, non-perishable foods, and a few camping supplies before venturing into the Karunda Valley itself. Their appearance in the region was intended to be a simple one day affair, three at most counting travel, but they could never be sure and had to be prepared in case they got stranded in the valley. Once in the valley proper they tried to stay on the main roads as much as possible to keep up the appearance of regular civilian travel, but before too long they had to exit onto more uninhabited stretches of road to arrive at the coordinates which they sought to do with haste.

The dead drop was opened and its contents weren't taken with as much gratitude as the host might have expected, instead all the food and drink was simply boxed back up and put in the trunk of the SUV. They didn't really want it, but it was better to take it in case it was needed rather than leave it sitting in the shrubbery. The Mount Parlely Armed Services Company was in the nation for one reason and one reason only, to conduct the unspoken contract signed with "Khamshin" and earn the money, the party was seen as nothing more than a disguise for this endeavor. If they could take the little text-to-speech speaker they did, otherwise they left it to its fate in the valley.

The Mount Parlely Armed Services Company had locations and names, now it was execute the unwritten contract and attempt to get back home to their divided nation.

[Aleutria]

The Special Group Unit might have a hard start trying to find a way to insert, but they did it, and now are currently watching over the place. Two drivers became observer, carefully watching the patrol over the place. After careful inspection on security, the team move in.

They quickly jammed the radio and split into two groups, with the driver staying behind as to look over the unit. One group would be refer as the main group, consisting of 1 radio operator (equipped with jammer), 1 field medic and 3 field unit. The others move into more secluded area of the place, trying to find an alternative entrance to the place for the main group to enter.

[Granmonte]

SA Cartel

The small group of hitmen and sicarios sent by the Cartel managed to infiltrate in RUSG territory and, after a pair of hours driving, managed to arrive in the Karunda Valley. Here, the group divided Itself : the Sniper would remain behind to offer cover to the others, the rest would remain together and continue advancing towards the objective, here, two groups of 8 members each would try and enter between two different entrances.

[Socalist Republic Of Mercenaries]

Part 1: Kübelwagen

(Yes that is a price tag still on the AK-15)

Theme: Boney M. - Rasputin

---

Somewhere over RUSG...

Hans couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Joachim leaned over and jabbed a thumb toward the images plastered on the side of their Tigr-6A. The helicopter's roar wasn't enough to drown out the playful disdain in his voice.

"Heheheh. Look at those decals, Hans. Who slapped these things on? Trollface? Cheems in a Minecraft helmet? And… is that—"

Joachim squinted as he pointed at the last decal plastered square on the passenger door.

"Yep, it's Yukari, from Girls und Panzer no less. Someone's got a sense of humor, or maybe just a lot of free time."

Hans shook his head, grinning despite himself. Being part of the Sondersgruppe meant they all had a little more more creative liberties than your bog-standard infantryman when it came down to vehicle customizations.

"I bet it was Vasili," Hans said, nudging Joachim with a knowing smirk.

"He's always going on about 'keeping morale up.'"

Joachim leaned back against the chopper’s cold interior, trying to picture the grim-faced Sankryze hopping into a Tigr decked out like a meme collage. In some strange way, the absurdity of it added a little levity to the high-stakes mission.

"Just wait until she sees it. We might have to explain Girls und Panzer to a billionaire." he laughed.

[Ecstasy City]

Meanwhile, resting on the desk of Mrs. Saachen, a letter addressed to her. The envelope was White as Snow, with no detail, except of course a strange sticker on it with a logo on it, sealing the envelope with its contents inside.

Dear Mrs. Saachen,

I hope this letter finds you well. We would like to Inform you that you have been Invited to the City of Ecstasy, away from those tyrants above ground, and those who want you dead. A place where you are as free as you want, and you aren't held back by the weak.

If this sounds appealing to you, please wait by the docks and ask for Leonard W. Morlin. Once you ask, We’ll take the rest on. If not, we wish you the best in your endeavors against those who wish to put you in chains.


Sincerely, The Horned lighthouse

[Soveiniesberg]

The GMT-400 Escalade's Vortec 5700 L31 V8 motor sung along at 2500 rotations per minute, gliding down a weathered two-lane asphalt road. An ANFO 'bag charge' was readied as the Escalade veered off the road, smashing though the chain-link fence, with a smash and a clatter. The Explorer followed, with both cars rolling down their windows as they thunder over the grassy, dry, dirt in the early morning.

They had arrived in RUSG... a while back. A few weeks ago.

A tall, reinforced concrete wall comes into view as the two SUVs roll to a stop, with one man getting out of the back of the Escalade, tugging his ski mask down, and running with a duffel bag, his RPDM, and a detonator wire coil, with an old-school claymore detonator hanging from the end of the coil until he gets to the wall.

He basically disappears from view... minutes later standing up with the coil and the clacker, sprinting full speed back towards the two SUVs. The rest of the men sit, stand, and kneel behind the two SUVs as the first man glances at the rest.

"Are we ready?"

Of course, nobody answers. The clacker goes clack...

And when the dust settles there's a nice big accessible hole blasted into the concrete wall.

[Arakhkhar]

[ S E K H A Y M - V - K A N O N / S E C R E T - I N - C A N O N ]

---

A gentle whir stirred over the horizon - it was not particularly loud, for that was how it was designed to be - in cold laboratories, where supercomputers hummed - and how efforts had been devised from a thousand brains to engineer in short order a particularly small, somewhat unassuming implement - flying over, a little white bird, quiet as it traversed the sky - clinging as low to the ground as it could to avoid radar detection, with the constant adjustments of a an pilot who had deftly jumped her hands between the panels - to switch, to examine, to switch again and make every little adjustment. The rotors spun, and they spun quickly enough indeed - yet it was almost eerie, like the pass of some smaller drone. In the rear, they sat - three of them, in their camouflaged uniforms, prepared for the terrain, the light armor only gently reflecting the lights which danced - the barrels they held, the long guns.

"Entering drop zone. 30 seconds - prepare for insertion."
The little audio went through - not to Central Command, no - through a cable. They had remained radio silence throughout. Quietly, they had approached - one mile away from the drop zone... and so very near, so very close... the helicopter tilted back, the rotors slowing down if only for a slight moment - and a single snakelike black cord jumbled out, tumbling and reaching to the ground. They stood, they prepared - and the motion went out. "Sektordinal Insertion in T-Zero - Operation Code 210, Proceed." - and already, they had begun - one after another, forms broken up gripped on - guiding their descent as they clipped gear to the ropes... and one after another - each looked out, for as quickly as they had come - the helicopter, that little white bird, flew off once again. Alone - and they wouldn't be supported until the beginning of the main assault. A simple check of the radio revealed that radio signals were being jammed - a simple frequency hopping would suffice, but for the moment, it was far better to maintain radio silence - a series of hand signals went out - as the three Hunter-Killers began to enter the brush - to seek. To kill. To designate and hunt before the slash of the blade that had so needed to cut.

[Socalist Republic Of Mercenaries]

Part 2: Broken Barriers

---

Somewhere in RUSG...
As the dust cloud mushroomed into the dawn sky, Hans and the rest of the Stratusians felt the unmistakable thump of a nearby blast reverberate through the air, even over the engine of their Tigr. He exchanged a quick look with Vasili, his face grim.

Joachim, squinted at the distant breach, muttered,

"Looks like someone got creative with their entrance. That's not Khamsin’s style."

One of the officers barked into the comms, issuing rapid-fire orders as they finished unloading.

"Sondersgruppe 'Grün,' listen up! We've got a perimeter breach on the compoint. Team A, load up and probe the breach with a Tigr. Team B and C, we're taking the main gate as planned. Let's get this show on the road!"

Hans gave a quick nod to his team as he climbed into the lead Tigr, aware of the tension thickening in the cabin. "Looks like we're the 'welcoming party' now, ja?"

His dry remark garnered few nervous laughs and a few affirmations of "Ja" or "Da".

Their Tigr roared to life, tires kicking up dust as it sped toward the breach to get eyes on whoever had decided to cut through Khamsin’s chaos with their own brute-force entrance.

"Vasili, keep that jammer on. If they've got support, I want them to be as blind as us" Hans ordered as Vasili nodded, clicking the jammer on.

Through the windshield, the other Tigrs and their crews rolled toward the main gate, setting up a defensive position to cover the entrance while maintaining sight lines on the compound’s vulnerable spots.

The officer’s voice crackled over their headset, calm but unmistakably charged with focus.

"All units, stay sharp. Anyone through that breach is unknown, but assume hostile. We're here to hold this ground—anyone else has to go through us. "

As the Tigr sped off towards the breach, Vasili flashed a grin, taking a handful of vest patches from a side pouch, offering it to the two in the backseat.

Hans smirked as he glanced down at the USEC patch Vasili handed him, securing it to his vest with a sense of grim amusement.

"Hah, USEC suits me just fine,"

"Guess that makes you the BEAR, Joachim," he added, shooting his teammate a sly look.

Joachim grinned, proudly slapping the BEAR patch onto his chest beside his own insignia.

"I've got beard for it," he chuckled with a wink, running a hand over his stubble, in an exaggerated Russian accent

Vasili also let out a wry, throaty laugh, casting a glance down at his own Kekistan patch and the unmistakable Pepe face puffing on a blunt.

"Gotta keep morale up somehow, boys. Besides, if any Khamsin-hired mercs manag to get close enough to see our patches, it might give them a moment’s pause before they try anything stupid."

Vasili adjusted the rearview to look at them, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Keep those patches handy. We’re about to roll up on this breach, and something tells me they’re not giving out any respawns."

[Gonswanza]

Even with the successful insertion of the units intended to defend the target, the drones let the helicopter flee, as the operators realize that there was no real reason to kill it without making a scene. The gunship operators, however, had a different idea in mind, keeping eyes on the complex, as the hangars burned and the alarm was raised. A long pause endured as the team blasted down a wall, engaging forces within sight, as the drones helped highlight them, while their visors made use of the data to project their own outlines and frames of targets against or over themselves like HUD elements. Thus, it was easier to take aim and fire, much like a videogame.

However, the other towers remained, with the gunship soon firing upon them with slow puffs of 57mm fire, intending to reduce whoever was in them to paste, though the heavy rounds lacked tracers and instead relied upon a ballistic computer and optical system to ensure first hit accuracy, after the range was keyed in via laser rangefinder. This ensure each shot would hit their mark, while the siege on the complex had only just begun.

On the ground, however, the chaos was palpable. Besides getting shot at momentarily, the two teams had successfully breached the fence and later the wall of the complex, with the RPG-32 kept ready should they run into any vehicles. The gunship was also kept in mind, should things get hairy, or should someone actually dare to bring out a tank against them... Assuming the massive artillery on the gunship could even handle such armor.