NationStates Jolt Archive

The rain poured down from the heavens. People scattered for cover or took out their umbrellas. It was a cloudy evening as the rain pattered against the pavement. It quickly became heavier as the day wore down. One man stood out in the rain at the Tidal Basin in Washington D.C. He wore no hat nor umbrella. His hair was drenched. In his hand he held a dozen roses, the pedals began to fall off of them and onto the wet pavement.
"But..." he whispered. The woman of his dreams, the whom he planned to marry. The wedding ring was in his coat pocket, however; she walked away, her head down and drenched as well. Her tears masked by the rain. She said nothing as the man stood there, in unbearable pain as though his heart was cut from him.
"I can never forgive him..." she said to herself...

Hollie woke up from her painful memory to the sound of triumphant music, cheers, and whistles. The crowds were wild with patriotism and fervor. The banners read "A new party for a new era" That's what the New Republican Party was often described as. This was another victory for the powerful organization. The Governor's race in California was a big one and a tough one. Democratic incumbant Dan Walters, one of the hold outs and an outspoken politician who was anti-NRP has finally been defeated. Millions of citizens across the country watched the ''election'' with great attention. It however, was hardly an election more than he was forced out of office. She looked around and began to clap.
"Is everything alright, Ms.Ryan?" he boss asked who stood next to her.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just absorbing the moment" she laughed off and cheered along with all the others. The NRP over the past decade became a powerhouse of political might, their influence great. Many had feared that the nation was lost during the war. They brought comfort to the masses, said what they wanted to hear, and slowly seeped into power across the economic and political scene. Hollie worked as a political liason for the NRP. The job paid well and afforded her a chance to pass into the inner more circles of the party. It was yet another victorious day for the New Republicans...

It was another day at the New York Times, one of the few newspapers left untarnished by the NRP who control most of the national newspapers. Sadly, the Times suffers from their ways and the NRP has launched a campaign against the Times. Their sales are down and their employees harassed, a few were even mugged and their houses broken in to. The NRP turned the public against them, labeling them as ''Communists" and "Anti-American Liberals". Words can hurt just as much as a bullet.

The briefing room was filled with reporters and other employees as they discussed upcoming stories and gave status reports on assisgnments, and even assigning jobs and stories. John Collins, one of the political investigators opened up the door and staggered in. His sleeves were rolled up and his black tie was loose.
"Johnny, nice of you to jon us" the editor, Carl Yarborough commented and several others snickered.
"Yeah, great to be here" he muttered back and took his seat.
"Alright people, we all know that the NRP has taken California and we already have someone on it. It seems that there's a bit of dirt underneath the carpet and they're looking into the whole thing with Governor Dan Walters. Sources tell us that there's something more to it than meets the eye." Carl briefed, pacing back and fourth. "Also, the upcoming bill for the Rights of Executive is coming up in Congress. This is a big one. If this bill passes it could mean alot of changes-"
"For better or for worse" Johnny interrupted, not making eye contact with anyone other than the table.
"Anyways, I want someone on it. There's gonna be alot of coverage on this and we need to be on top of it." Carl searched the room. As much as he didn't want to, he looked at Johnny who despite being rough around the edges has done some damn fine work and probably the best one for the job. "Johnny, you got this one" he stated.
"Great, as if the NRP doesn't hate me enough already" Johnny snickered. Washington D.C. was a painful place in his memory but he accepted the assignment.

Bump

OOC: Point of this?

OOC: Point of this?

Point of what?

Sam Arrington brushed her sleek brown hair back, standing still before a mirror in her dorm room. Her roomate, a native German, had already left for the day...though she was not anything special to Sam, more of a haughty woman who felt superior to the daughter of the former Floridan Senator Alexander Arrington. Sam didn't really mind too much, as both were usually out doing their own things...and Georgetown, a prestigious university, was a big place in the nation's capital.
Sam stared into the mirror, her green eyes staring back. Two luminous bulbs, bright white with green-ringed black dots marking the center, her eyes marked her face as one of progressiveness. Indeed, Sam thought progressively, into the future-though into a future that was terminally different from the future that had arrived. Today's world was repressive, aggressive, and regressive...turning back the clock on the pace of civil rights and political freedoms that had marked the late 20th century, from the JFK era through the Reagan years. The New Republican Party was grossly misnamed-not even close to the policies of the old Republican Party, the new one looked remarkedly more similar to the Nazi Party, if anything.
Sam sighed as the TV radiantly displayed the California governor's race, showing victory for the NRP. Even the most progressive state of them all had fallen to the spoils, and for left-leaners like her, times were not exactly good. She turned the unit off, stepping out into the hallway of her floor, adorned in a Hoyas Softball T-Shirt and shorts. The Campus Party has been around again, apparently, as an ad for Party membership, sparkling in bright red lettering, stood out against the light brown walls. Sam rolled her eyes, leaving the building for her 10 AM Political Science class, part of her International Relations major-a major that would likely land her with the party she clashed with.
Stepping out into the D.C. morning sun, Sam was immediately accosted by one of the boys in the dorm, Shaun Mathis, from Connecticut, wearing a dark "A New Party for a New Era" NRP shirt. Mathis carried NRP flyers and had just moved off from somebody else.

"Hey, Sam," Mathis loudly approached, "heard about the Cali election?"
"I have," Sam replied, rather annoyed by the boisterous and zealous NRP supporter.
"Just one more victory for our unstoppable juggernaught," Mathis proudly boasted, "You just need to see our ways, and stop being blocked by the past. We in the New Republican Party are the wave of the future, and no longer will America be held up by all the pestering hordes of progressives! You may look at it differently, Sam, but you should come and find your place in the coming dawn."
"Shaun, I'm not really all that interested in the NRP," Sam replied.
"You know," he replied, getting somewhat quieter, "the more rash of us think in one set: If you're not with us, you're against us. I'm not saying anythign definite Sam, but for a left-leaning person as you, you may want to join us before anything could happen."
"Shaun, I'm going to be late for class," Sam smiled, as she turned away from Mathis.

Walking away, she rolled her eyes in disgust as official Party sponsorers held a rally nearby, hundreds standing below a large podium with signs and cheers.

Max leaned against the balcony of his apartment, watching news converge of the California election on the small TV he had perched on the balcony rail. Today is a good day Max thought to himself, then as his cell phone began ringing, could be getting better. flipping it open, Max answered with a "yo"
"Hey Captain, we got a funny bit of data off one of our security cameras, looks like Miguel Ernesto survived and is now working for the resistance."
Max's heart leapt in his throat.
"Ernesto is still alive?"
"Yep, that’s what it looks like, a plain clothes recognized him, on the tape and ran it through the database, and Ernesto's name popped up.
Max turned this over in his mind as he pondered what to do next.
He had been one of the arresting officers, however had not taken part in Ernesto's execution, so his head would still be safe when high command found out about this.
Now, what to do about Ernesto. He could give the order to have a SWAT team move in, snatch Ernesto, and the man would not live to see the next day. The down side to this is that the resistance would go to ground, and no one else could be caught unless the Secret Police got lucky. Or, Max could send in a Surveillance and Recon team, note Ernesto's contacts, and then wrap them all up in one quick sweep. The down side to this is that it might tip off Ernesto. nothing ventured, nothing gained, Max thought, then gave his orders.
"Have an S&R team watch Ernesto, note his contacts, and put a SWAT team on standby." With that, Max flipped the phone shut, then turned to go back inside, to retrieve his GLOCK 17 from his bedroom.

11:45 P.M.
Trade docks in Maryland

All seemed quite safe aboard the trading boat as it headed for its destination. But what everyone aboard the boat failed to see, was one stow-away who managed to sneak on and had just got off. He was waiting in the cargo hold and was waiting for the ship to reach its destination to the docks. He was in a cloak and had his face covered so no one would recognize him. He was now in the state of Maryland and was about to begin his journey in America. Before he got off the boat, he said to himself, "At last... I am in the belly of the beast..."
He snuck off and avoided as many guards as possible. But before he was able to leave the docks, he had a few to deal with. "Hey! Over there!" A guard said as he saw the figure fleeing the scene.
Another shouted, "Follow him! Don't let him get away!" And several guards started to follow the figures direction. But when they got into an alley between two cargo houses, they could not find the figure anywhere. It was not until later they knew where he was. The figure had stabbed one guard in the back of his neck and kicked him to the ground. The guards open fired on him while the figure dodged the bullets as much as possible. He took out his Glock 18 and fired on them.
Eventually, there was only the figure and the single guard left. The guard decided to run from the scene to get help, but the figure had grabbed him from behind and slammed him into a wall and prepared to slit him. Before he could, the guard asked the figure, "W...What are... you?"
The figure leaned in and the guard could only see one eye as the other was covered by the figures turban. The figure answered, "I am Ahmadinejad..." And slit the guards throught. The Ahmadinejad figure left the docks and got out before anyone could find him. He was now in America, and he was not going to let anyone stand in the way of his goals...

"To the great American family, to the Starks!" The patrons of the party raised their glasses toward the guest of honor, Mr. George Washington Starks, the son of the President. On the other end of the table, sat the host, President John Starks, who raised his cup toward his son, before sipping a bit of its blush contents. Soon the clinking of silverware and china filled the room, along with the jovial sound of good conversation and drink.

"The dinner party was a success, Dad, I really think it helped to smooth things over with your base." George Washington said as he stared at the hearth alive with flame in front of him. "I believe it may have even given off a tone of redemption between us."

"Yes, I do as well, perhaps I forgave you for your little outburst at the Senate proceedings." replied the President, who had taken off his bowtie, sports coat, and vest. As they speculated over the results of their dinner party, they both new the truth, The two Sparks flew farther away from one another each day, in a cosmic journey that would lead to an inevitable clash of ideals, the inevitable battle of beliefs positioning the two commanding separate armies, a clash that would leave one gone from the pages of history, perhaps as a minute footnote in a forgotten annul of dead empires, and the men that lead them. The days approached, when the great American family would alight in a war to remember.

OOC: Some backround information which I failed to mention earlier. The bill going through Congress is called the Rights of Executive. If this bill passes then the President will be given even more political power. Also, those against the party is known as "The Coalition" they are an underground group of people opposed to them. They have hidden away from the public's eye and carry on their opposition from the shadows. The Coalition is highly secretive and few members know about any of the other members, and the inner circle is even more secret. It's similar to 1984.

The meeting ended without much to say. The editor dismissed everyone and they went off to do their prospective jobs and assignments. Collins went back to his desk which was an organized mess. Piles of papers and notebooks scattered the desk as an empty coffee mug sat next to the keyboard. He sat down, his back sore. The reporter sighed and shuffled through the documents, searching for some material on the legislative bill. After finding very little he surfed the web and made calls. After several hours he had a plane ticket booked and a place to stay in Washington D.C.
"Hey, Johnny" said one of his co-workers as Collins sat there. "When you leaving?"
"Soon, I gotta get going. My day's done" he replied and got up, assembling some notebooks and putting them in his bag. He put on a coat and stepped around the co worker and left the building. As he walked out he lite a cigarette and walked down the sidewalk, past the bustling crowds. A car several yards away started its' engine and drove past him...

OOC: Some backround information which I failed to mention earlier. The bill going through Congress is called the Rights of Executive. If this bill passes then the President will be given even more political power. Also, those against the party is known as "The Coalition" they are an underground group of people opposed to them. They have hidden away from the public's eye and carry on their opposition from the shadows. The Coalition is highly secretive and few members know about any of the other members, and the inner circle is even more secret. It's similar to 1984.

OOC: First of all, did you enjoy my first post, secondly, may I claim that there is a group of about a dozen Senators that have joined into a faction of the New Republican Party, opposing further powers given to John Starks. Thirdly will you have Johnny interview George Wasington Sparks on the condition of anonomity?

OOC: First of all, did you enjoy my first post, secondly, may I claim that there is a group of about a dozen Senators that have joined into a faction of the New Republican Party, opposing further powers given to John Starks. Thirdly will you have Johnny interview George Wasington Sparks on the condition of anonomity?

OOC: Your post was fine. I'll have my character interview yours.

Michael lugged his stuff out of the back of the Taxi, threw some money at the driver and looked at his dark house.

So many years had passed since he had lived here. Paying a nearby landlady to keep it standing up was all he could do while he lost his life in the east.

For too long, the western states threw their democratic might against the oil rich lands of Iran, Iraq and any other country that supported them. thousands, if not millions of people died, perhaps a billion people were displaced because of the fighting.

Michaels units served with distinction throught Syria, Saudi Arabia and Iran - A special forces SAS group in the 3rd SAS infantry division, they picked John out of the drug laden house that was his parents and gave him reason to live. Because brigadier Captain, he commanded the Ist SSF platoon.

The platoon under his command stormed impossible fortifications with almost no losses, units pulling out due to major injury, but no deaths - A first in a world packed with suicide bombs.

Then his world was torn apart. A "Daisy cutter" bomb - 500lbs of explosive falling from a falling c130 landed right in the middle of the highly defended barracks - Hundreds were killed instantly, with so many more dying from exposure to the hot Syrian sun.

He, and four others were on patrol - Returning to a sea of dead and dying comrades. How he coped he still looked back at until the his dying days.
After the parade with which he was showered with medals and praise, he launched himself into reforming the unit which he loved so much.

All to no avail. 3 years after the Syrian accident, the US finally brought down the hammer of which all of humanity dreaded. As the Iranian capital was repulsing a large assault - It melted into the horizon, along with thousands of allied soldiers.

But would anyone protest? The war had cost millions of lives - noone would dare risk another war.

And so it was this that Michael left behind. Honourably discharged with medals up to his ears, he came back to a dark home, wet and with everything he believed in shattered and hastily taped back together with just a suitcase of memories.

He fought for peace. It was achieved, but at what price? He collapsed into a chair and slumped there and watched the blood red sun rise.

Then the letter dropped through is letterbox.

Robert drove down the motorway in downtown Washington DC, listening to the radio.

Our glorious leaders of the New Republican Party have made our great nation even better! Steel output has increased fifty three percent this year as a direct result of our President's brilliant -

He turned the radio off.

"Assholes," he muttered.

Robert pulled his Aston Martin into the central precinct parking lot, and walked in. As he did so, he had to swipe his ID card multiple times.

"This is about as useful as a bloody chocolate teapot. They know who the hell I am," thought Robert.

After clearing the security checkpoints, his assistant walked up to him.

"Good morning, Constable Sinclair," said Banks. He was a staunch supporter of the NRP, wearing their logo pin on his suit.

"'Morning, Banks. Anything new?"
"No, no sir. Just some more communists that need processing."
"Get on it, then. I have shit to do," replied Robert. His "shit to do" consisted of reading the Post and playing Doom IV on his computer. But Banks didn't know that.

Sam walked ou tof her Poli Sci class, slightly repulsed by the NRP-induced bilge her professor regularly spewed out. It was disgusting to her independent mind that, even in the most sacred grounds of debate and question that the Party even have their hand in the education of tomorrow's future. It went beyong control-it was brainwashing, to an extent. The NRP was un-American-and worse, they were destroying America forever with their ways, if left unopposed.
Walking out, a man in a grey suit walked slowly up to her, carrying a small metal device of sorts.

"Ms. Arrington?" he asked abruptly.
"That's me," Sam replied calmly.
"Please follow me, I will be brief." the man commanded flatly.
"Er...I have an appointment scheduled, I real-" Sam started, trying to evade.
"Ms. Arrington," the man replied, keeping the neutral look, but a threatening hint in his voice. "It will take but a moment."
"Uh, I guess so."
"Very good."

The man walked away, and Sam followed, nervously clutching her notebook. The man almost seemed like a government man...an odd one, at that. The man led her to an office room in a history building, where a secretary was at work. The man spoke something softly to the secretary, and displayed some sort of ID. The woman nodded quickly, then got up and brushed by Sam, leaving.

"Please sit down," the man indicated to a chair, closing the door behind Sam.
"I..I guess," Sam edged.
"You must know," the man began, taking a seat opposite her, his dark eyes boring into her face, "that there are many who see our good and justifiable government as one that preaches tyranny. One that suppresses free will. What are your thoughts?"
Definitely NRP, thought Sam. "Well...I don't really think that's right and all, America's grown recently mostly because of the government." Sam chose her words carefully, trying to manuever into a pose of NRP support.
"Indeed," the man mused, with a trace of suspicion. "Though many do not think so." The man looked carefully at Sam now, his eyes darting deeper into her mind. "Ms. Arrington-what do you truly know of anti-New Party sentiment? What do you really think of us?"
"Not really anything," Sam sweated, a trace of tear coming to her eye. "All the people I associate with support the government, truly."
"And many would say such a thing to hide," the man mused again, his tone still flat, face neutral, yet oozing with threat.
"I honstely haven't heard a thing about anti-government things from those I know, nor do I think of such," Sam replied, her voice starting to break.
"Indeed..." the man muttered a final time. "You are free to go Ms. Arrington...though be warned, there are those who are always looking to hurt the stable government. It would be a shame if you were found to be caught up in such."

Sam said nothing, simply getting up, nodding, blinking away a tear, and leaving the room.

Robert, after a morning of doing nothing relevant, decided that it might be a good idea to do some work. After all, his job was to fight crime and to uphold the law, no matter how atrocious the laws were. He punched up the Metropolitan Police server, reviewing CCTV feeds. Ever since the New Republican Party came to power, every city was full of cameras, watching every single move made by every single person.

Watching the CCTV feeds at times could be amusing. For instance, Robert observed a member of the Senate picking his nose as he drove down the motorway.

Banks knocked on the door.
"Come in," ordered Robert. Banks obliged.
"Mr Sinclair, there's a suspect that you need to interrogate. She's...beyond processing at this time. Information must be extracted, you see, and this sort of work is above me."

...

Sinclair strode into the room, sunglasses donned.
"Do you know why you are here?" he asked.
The prisoner refused to answer.
"You are here, my friend, because it seems you have engaged in subversive activities."
The prisoner glared at Sinclair.
"Miss...Cocci, I see. Interesting name. Well, you were at one point dangerous, but you are safely in our hands."
"And you'll never learn a thing," she replied.
"Ah, yes, she speaks," Sinclair replied. "Do not be so sure that you will not talk, Miss Cocci. For instance, you have a fiancé. Right now, he is being arrested. If you do not cooperate, he will be executed for sedition. Do you want that to happen?"
"Anything for the good of freedom," she spat.
Sinclair laughed. "Take her to Room 101. Execute the fiancé. Make sure you fill out the paperwork for this execution."

Collins sat at the subway terminal, waiting for his ride. People scattered across the platforms, waiting. Political posters were all about, including ones with President Stark's image. He thumbed through his notebook where several names were jotted down along with their addresses. The top of the list was a Dr.Lawson, professor of political ideaologies at Harvard. Dr.Lawson is well known for several books and essays he wrote about political evolution, ideaologies, and theories. Also, he's well respected for his talents and skill. The journalist was to meet with Dr.Lawson who has agreed to this meeting. Lawson's most recent work deals with the current political changes in America and the world, chronicaling the rise of the NRP.

A black BMW stopped at the entrance to the subway, a man in a trenchcoat stepped out and the car continued on. This man walked calmly but swiftly down the stairs, weaving in and out of the crowd. Collins sat, putting the notebook away and taking his cellphone out from his coat pocket and dialing a number. The man stopped behind a pillar and leaned up against it. His steely eyes leering over to Collins as he spoke on the phone and snapped it shut. The man looked off in another direction, towards the ground.
"Subject has made a call....No, I don't know...Yes, subject is stationary but will not for long...I understand" he whispered.

The dinner banquet kicked into high gear in the large ballroom, beautifully decorated with banners, American flags, and other things. Tables were filled with food, silverware, and wine. The seats were filled with party supporters. Newly elected Governor Tyler sat at a table on the stage in his tuxedo. Hollie, sat amoungst all the other with her boss and several associates. People were laughing and enjoying the occasion. She smiled and told war stories abouty the campaign. Her dress was beautiful and her hair done up in a pony tail. She hardly touched her food...

William Griffin sat in a chair and was reading a book. As he stopped for a moment he looked out a window toward the Chesapeake Bay. William was at his house on Kent Island in the Chesapeake Bay. The house was one of the first islands and was a retreat for the family from the busy city of Washington D.C. William was a up and coming writer for historical fiction. His first and only book so far, The Gallant Charge. Gallant Charge was a story about a young man trying to live threw the Civil War. William Griffin was surrounded by dozens of wooden shelves for books. In the back he could hear Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition. After reading a little more of his book he turned off the music and made his way to the garage. William was still writing his second book, but was going to Washington D.C. to meet his old friend, Johnny. As he entered the his BMW he called Johnny, but got didn't get him, so he left a message.

"Hey Johnny it's William Griffin. I was just coming into Washington D.C. to drop of f my latest version of my new book. I just wanted to know if I could have dinner with you. Already call me back when you get a chance."

William put the cell phone down and drove out of the garage. Every since Hollie joined the New Republic Party things were not doing well between the friendship of Johnny and William. William had taken a different path, than Johnny by joining the The Coalition. He wanted destroy the New Republic Party. They were going to control America and make it into a fascist state. His ancestors didn't die and fight for this country for it to turn into this. William thought this as he turned onto the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and head of Washington D.C.

American News Network ANN

Good evening, I'm Ken Waterstone and this is the news. Earlier today George Tyler of the NRP won a landslide victory over incumbant Dan Roberts in the Californian Governor's race. A victory banquet is occuring right now where Governor Tyler is to make an address to the party elite in the state. In other news the ban on Gay Rights is believed to pass within the month. There are still a few hold outs in the Senate along with several liberal organizations.

Another story for the evening is the arrest of several men in Atlanta accused of harboring Coalition members. Police raided their home early this morning and arrested three of the occupants. The radical extremist group has become quite active as of recently. Government agencies are working hard to bring their leaders to justice. Now Maria with the weather...

OOC: Canadstein, Hollie will be returning to Washington D.C. on party business. Also, she never disappeared. Perhaps your character can try to get her, that would create a good amount of drama.

The dinner went on into the evening. Several big wigs for the party made an appearence, made a few speeches, and mingled with the throngs of supporters. Hollie stood off to the side, tapping away in her PDA. As party liason she was quite busy with scheduling meetings, meeting with people, and setting up places for these functions. The governor and his group walked past, with bulbs flashing and reporters swamping his group.
"Hollie" an older man said to her. The young woman spun around and saw her boss, Greg Stanton. He smiled and rubbed his rough face. "This was more successful than I could have imagined. Your work with the newspapers and ANN reporters was masterful. I could feel the patriotism in it."
"Thank you sir, just trying to do my best for the party" she replied with a smile of accomplishment.
"And you've done quite well. I've seen this and so have others in the regional party staff. I talked to the chief executive for the California Office. He agreed to send you to Washington D.C. for a special assignment" he said.
Hollie's eyes lite up with excitement and asperation to what she could be.
"Really?! That's great" she stuttered with excitment "W-what will I be doing?" she was giddy like a school girl.
"You'd be doing the same job as you do here. Usually they save this slot for a senior liasion but you've proven yourself. As you know the Rights of Executive and the Gay Rights ban are going through Congress. These are big bills and important to the party" he quieted down and leaned in close "We need someone who can spin this whole deal and make it more palatable to some of those damn liberal organizations. You'll be working with several lobbyists and the main party headquarters. This is very important and I know you can handle it. Are you in?" he asked.
"Yes, I'll do it" she replied without hesitation.

Robert Sinclair sat in his office, drinking a cup of Earl Grey to try to calm his nerves. It wasn't working.

"Banks, don't you ever think this is wrong?" he asked.
"Why, what are you talking about, Constable?" Banks asked in reply.
"You know, torturing that woman, executing her fiancé..."
"That, sir. It was regretable, and I wish we had not had to do it, but it was necessary."
"Necessary? For what?"
"The security of our nation."
"Ah, yes. Banks, you're dismissed. Take the rest of the day off."

Banks scurried out of the room, preparing to enjoy a free day.

Robert walked over to Room 101. He had become fascinated by Miss Cocci.

Collins sat at the subway terminal, waiting for his ride. People scattered across the platforms, waiting. Political posters were all about, including ones with President Stark's image. He thumbed through his notebook where several names were jotted down along with their addresses. The top of the list was a Dr.Lawson, professor of political ideaologies at Harvard. Dr.Lawson is well known for several books and essays he wrote about political evolution, ideaologies, and theories. Also, he's well respected for his talents and skill. The journalist was to meet with Dr.Lawson who has agreed to this meeting. Lawson's most recent work deals with the current political changes in America and the world, chronicaling the rise of the NRP.

A black BMW stopped at the entrance to the subway, a man in a trenchcoat stepped out and the car continued on. This man walked calmly but swiftly down the stairs, weaving in and out of the crowd. Collins sat, putting the notebook away and taking his cellphone out from his coat pocket and dialing a number. The man stopped behind a pillar and leaned up against it. His steely eyes leering over to Collins as he spoke on the phone and snapped it shut. The man looked off in another direction, towards the ground.
"Subject has made a call....No, I don't know...Yes, subject is stationary but will not for long...I understand" he whispered.

OOC: When is Johnny meeting George? I wrote it thinking that he would pick up GWS

The prisoner sat cowering in a corner of the detention cell, her clothes mere rags. After only an hour, she had been endured immense pain at the hands of her torturers.

Robert opened the door.
"Dismissed," he ordered.
The two officers left the room.

"Miss Cocci. Can I call you by your first name?"
She said nothing.
"I'll take that as a yes. Julia, I am not here to torture you. Other people are paid to do that. I exist to serve the law. You, unfortunately, have broke the law. Let's review what you are charged with. You have been charged with sedition and treason. You were caught posting anti-government leaflets on street corners downtown. Your record shows that you have eluded capture in the past, and that you are believed to have been involved in a terrorist bombing in New York," Robert said, speaking as if he was lecturing to some unknown audience. He walked over to the CCTV camera in the corner and unplugged it.

Julia was shocked.
"You...you..unplugged it!" she exclaimed.
"Indeed. Your powers of observation serve you well," Robert retorted.
"You have to understand, Julia, that you have already been convicted. You merely await your execution. So, I just need to understand one thing. Why?"

Julia blinked for a moment, then began to answer his question in length.

OOC: When is Johnny meeting George? I wrote it thinking that he would pick up GWS

OOC: In a bit

The door creeked open. Collins flicked on a light switch which flickered on after a few seconds. His apartment was small, cramped, and an organized mess. Piles of ducuments and papers were scattered about. It was a simple apartment which suited his simple life. The journalist walked past the couch and laid down his bag and slumped onto a chair in the small kitchen. A packet of ramen soup was emptied out into the boiling water and that consisted of his dinner. Outside, the man in the trench coat stood across the street, tipping his hat down and walked away.
"Well, tomorrow's a big day" he spoke out loud to no one. His life was empty, the only feeling was lonliness. After dinner and watching some TV he went to sleep on his bed, which was hard as a rock.

Sunlight filtered through the cherry trees. It was a warm day and warm feelings. A happy young couple laid on their backs on a small hill. They laughed, cuddled, and talked.
"Johnny" she said with a sweet tone, full of love "I've been accepted to the art institute"
"That's great!" Johnny replied "I knew you could do it" he leaned over and kissed her, her face hidden in shadow even though it was clear, her flowing hair moved gracefully. They continued to talk about their bright and hopeful futures. All of a sudden, the skies darkened and a gigantic hand descended from the heavens towards them...

Collins awoke in a cold sweat, exhaling heavily, his chest pounding. It was 4:30 in the morning and the alarm wasn't even close to sounding. He wiped the sweat from his brow and got up and showered.

Bump

The crumpled up letter lay smoothed out on top of Michaels battered worn suitcase. Only a few weeks he had spent from the war had left him in a semi-catatonic state. Doing things automatically, he found himself suffering from insomnia - He couldn't sleep, the charred bodies of his comrades wouldnt let him sleep.

He had few friends outside the military, with most of them still in active service somewhere in the world. He had nothing to do, noone to see. The benefits he recieved from the government were good enough, but nothing special.

"As if I could stand this place anymore, what the fuck does this letter say again...

"Dear Mr Blackburn,

My name is John Collins. I am a "political investigator" - I guess that is the most direct term to use. I've been documenting the events of the political world for sometime now for the Times newspaper, and seeing as you're a fairly decorated member of the Allied forces, I was wondering if I could interview you.

Unfortunately due to the circumstances, I cannot fly out to meet you, and neither can this letter enclose too many details. I enclose a round trip ticket to New York. I'll meet you at the airport.

I realise you may be going through a lot of stress at the moment. I know a lot about what you've been through. I offer you a chance to take a break - New York is quite a place to be, after all.

Yours sincerely,
John Collins."


...




"Fuck it."

Lugging his case again to the door, he paused to pin a small badge to his coat lapel.

Then, with his life in a suitcase yet again, he set out to a place symbolising everything he stood for, crawling with everything he fought against, with not a clue as to what he was doing.

Robert drove home, thinking about what that girl had told him.

Pity that she was killed, he thought. Her idealism was...moving. But her ideas...crazy as fuck. I mean, a massive revolt against the NRP - crazy. But now I feel bad. I uphold laws, it's my job - but before the NRP came 'round, my commander told me that we uphold just laws. It's funny that she mentions the constitution. I haven't read that in a while, ever since the government suspended it. I wonder if there's a copy on Google.am...probably not. Fucking censors.

William parked his BMW beside a sidewalk. Johnny hadn't returned his calls, so William guessed he didn't want to see him. Thirty minutes ago he had just dropped off a rough draft of his book at his publisher. As he walked up a pair of stairs to his house in NW Washington D.C. It was starting to get dark and he needed to get some rest. As he turned on the TV it was the news. He looked at the screen and found out that another NRP had taken one of the few non-NRP governorships. William sighed and looked past the TV's images. His eyes closed until he looked around and saw Johnny.It was the days when they were younger, just being kids. Those were the best times of William's life. Things sped up. He saw Hollie. William always had a crush on her, but Johnny took the chance and won her heart. He never took told Hollie, but just let it go by and disappear. Then a black cloud appeared and took both Johnny and Hollie. He was alone until the blackness over powered him. Then he woke up in a instance. He was still on the couch. As he got up he got a glass of water. William drank it and thought about Johnny and Hollie. He missed the both of them and wished the world could go back to the way it was. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he wiped it away.

Bump

William stumbled back to the couch. It was 6 o' clock in the morning. As he rubbed his eyes, he noticed that the TV was still on. The NRP practically controlled all the networks. They were spewing out their propaganda to the masses. He turned the TV and went over to a record player. Grabbing on a record he put it on the record player. It started to play God Save the Tsar. As he rested on a couch he looked a picture of his parents. His parents had escaped Washington D.C. and moved to a Northern New York. Two weeks ago he had visited them and they seemed to be doing fine. His father, John Griffin, was sad though. Before the NRP had taken over John had been a Senator for Delaware. Once the NRP was starting to take over the Senator his father was one of the last hold outs. That's until he decided to step down after getting threats from NRP thugs. Afterward John Griffin and his wife moved to New York. William stopped looking at the picture and took a shower. Then he went outside to take a morning walk.

Paul Forrest sped down the highway.
After a couple of miles, he turned onto an off-ramp and was soon on the outskirts of the city.
He pulled up at a seemingly deserted warehouse and got out of his green wrangler jeep.

A man stepped out of the shadows to greet him. he had his hat pulled down over his eyes. he was a black market salesman.

"Here you go" he muttered. "A P8 Pistol, a HK 21E Machine Gun, and three M61 Frag Grenades - nice to see some-one else that likes older more reliable weapons"

Before Paul got a chance to say a word,he was gone.

"OK" Paul said to himself "time to rebel against president McAsshole and his followers"

Where's the Sign-up Thread?

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12051016&posted=1#post12051016

A plane departed, it's huge turbines exploding with energy, shooting the plane off the airstrip and into the sky. Several hours later it touched down in Washington D.C. The political hub of the nation was filled with chatter and speeches. The air was electric with NRP members campaigning on one side and the faltering Democratic party trying to keep its' ground against their overwhelming opponent. The Gay Marriage Ban was a hot button topic. Years ago such a bill would have failed, met by tons of opposition. Sadly, few people are willing to openly oppose the government these days. Times were changing. Most saw it for the better; however, some saw it as worsening.

Hollie stepped out of the plane and into the airport, trying to reach baggage claim. She was tired and annoyed by a child that cried the entire plane ride. Her nerves at end, she weaved in and out of the crowd, keeping in mind that she still had to work that day.
"Miss Ryan?" A man inquired, his voice seemingly subtle but audiable.
"Yes" she replied and turned her slender body around to see the man who called her "I'm Ms.Ryan"
"Ms.Ryan, I'm Kenneth Grayson, your assistant. Your baggage has already been picked up and a limo is waiting outside. Please follow me, today isn't over yet" Grayson said with a cheery smile.
"Sounds great" Hollie lied and followed the younger man as he walked quickly through the crowds and navigated past the hard to understand directions as if he'd traveled the route through the terminal many times prior. Grayson filled her in on what was expected of the day, the meeting she had, and an interview with ANN. That one wasn't expected to be difficult because ANN was practically a lap dog for the NRP.

Robert woke up for another dreary day of work, labouriously donning his Brooks Brothers suit and downing an egg with toast.

He went to his laptop and punched up the Economist, now contraband in the United States since it was objective. If he was caught, he could easily be arrested for sedition.

The cover headline was "Empire and liberty...at any rate, empire", with a picture of the current President of the United States. The article detailed how the United States had become more and more oppressive, suspending Posse Comitatus, the Constitution, and scores of liberties.

There was a knock on the door, and Robert quickly shut down his computer, lest he be caught.

Another plane touched down at the same airport a half hour later. Collins stepped into the terminal, tired and his face rough and unshaven. He managed to lose the guy tailing him. Ever since writing several big articles about party corruption the NRP kept taps on him with the whole nine yards. They knew where he was at all time. They would have tried to kill him but the lime light showered over his head like a guardian angel, making him untouchable. The light is dimming but still present so they just watch him, waiting. Collins kept another cellphone, one that the security team assigned to him didn't know about which is how he set up a meeting with Dr.Lawson who's in D.C. gathering material for his next book which is rumored to be controversial and dangerous. So, he managed to escape from their gaze for a short time and breath easier. After hailing a cab he arrived at the motel several minutes away. He only had a carry on and a bag which he laid down on the bed. The motel was actually nicer than his apartment. He took out that special cellphone and dialed a number.
"Dr.Lawson?...yes, it's me...I'm fine, yourself?...that's good...we still good for tomorrow?...great, I'll meet you there...bye" and he hanged up. He hadn't been in D.C. for almost five years. Old memories resurfaced...

Bump

Bump

Blackburn stepped out into the cold air of the terminal for the 5th time. The uneventful flight had been delayed half an hour, but that still didn't stop him from knowing that whoever the hell he was supposed to meet, wasn't going to be the most punctual man in existence.

Sparking up another cigarette, he walked into an alcove and leant back against a wall, when a man with a badge on his coat walked up to him, flanked by two other men.

"Excuse me, Mr Blackburn."

He made no reply.

"I understand that you have been contacted by a certain individual - Obviously you know that I'm not an ordinary person, how else would I know your name. Basically I just want to let you know that the NPR frowns upon outsiders such as yourself getting involved with people such as the person you are soon to meet-"

"Piss off, My business is my own, not yours."

"Now now, Mr Blackburn, you have a very short temper. Perhaps we can persuade you to see things our way..."

With that, the two men advanced on Michael and grabbed him roughly by the arms - Unfortunatly for one of them, Michael still had his lit cigarette in his hand, which promptly was stubbed into his eye. The next man found himself waking up in a hospital the next morning with no recollection of how he got there.

Michael grabbed his stuff and walked calmly away from the scene - It was still fairly early, and being in an alcove, not many people could have seen the altercation at all. The man who had approached was by now, sprinting away like an athlete.

He lit another cigarette and stepped out into the cold air for the 6th time, to see a man walking towards him.

He waited for yet another fight.

Robert sat in his office, which was rather spartan and militaristically decorated. The only hint of personality was the flag of the London Metropolitan Police on his desk; he trained with the LMP in his youth. A man in a dark suit knocked on his door.

"Enter," ordered Robert.

The man entered, flashing an official badge. Robert could not discern quite what it said.

"Mr. Robert Sinclair?" asked the man.

"Yea, that's me. What d'you want?" Robert replied.

"You're now attached to a Security Service sting operation," stated the man bluntly.

"Say what? I'm a Constable, not a member of the SS, damn it," replied Robert angrily.

"Watch your tone, lest you find yourself dead in the Potomac. A Mr. Blackburn is now a suspect in a massive sedition and treason conspiracy. He's been interacting with subversive elements. He isn't Washington anymore, and he's slipped out of our grasp. But we know he's coming back, eventually. I want him arrested," said the man, flinging Blackburn's file at him.

"Yes, sir. Right away," stammered Robert, and the man left.

"Banks!" Robert shouted. His assistant scurried in.

"I want a detail around this man's house," Robert said, pointing at the file. "And I want him arrested and brought before me. Don't ask questions."

William opened the door and walked into his house. He had gotten something to eat and taken a mile run. Sweat covered his forehead. He wiped it off and took off his cloths. Taking a quick shower and putting on new cloths, he walked back outside. He started to walk downtown. Soon William was within a mass of people downtown in the Mall.

Bump

Robert sat in his office, which was rather spartan and militaristically decorated. The only hint of personality was the flag of the London Metropolitan Police on his desk; he trained with the LMP in his youth. A man in a dark suit knocked on his door.

"Enter," ordered Robert.

The man entered, flashing an official badge. Robert could not discern quite what it said.

"Mr. Robert Sinclair?" asked the man.

"Yea, that's me. What d'you want?" Robert replied.

"You're now attached to a Security Service sting operation," stated the man bluntly.

"Say what? I'm a Constable, not a member of the SS, damn it," replied Robert angrily.

"Watch your tone, lest you find yourself dead in the Potomac. A Mr. Blackburn is now a suspect in a massive sedition and treason conspiracy. He's been interacting with subversive elements. He isn't Washington anymore, and he's slipped out of our grasp. But we know he's coming back, eventually. I want him arrested," said the man, flinging Blackburn's file at him.

"Yes, sir. Right away," stammered Robert, and the man left.

"Banks!" Robert shouted. His assistant scurried in.

"I want a detail around this man's house," Robert said, pointing at the file. "And I want him arrested and brought before me. Don't ask questions."

Saffron came into the office looking very flustered.
'Sorry I am late, i had to take Nova to the school, her bus was late, it was rush hour, had a crash....everything' she said, lighting up a much needed cigarette, she sat at her desk, tidied her clothes up, shut her eyes for 5 minutes, then sat up and attended to her work...

Collins got an early start to the day. After a good rest he was up and energized for the day, this was a seldom occurance but a welcomed one. A cup of coffee rested in his right hand as a taxi took him up to Dr.Lawson's home. The driveway was long and freshly redone. The home was of a brick stile with green windo shudders and resembled a British style home, quite welcoming. There was a cobblestone walkway leading to the entrance. Collins glided over it and to the door. His rough hand made a fist and knocked on the door, waiting for a reply. After waiting for a few seconds the door opened and an older man in his fifties with a cane, glasses, and a warm smile opened the old door.
"Mr.Collins, it's an honor to finally meet you" he said, extending his arm out which was hidden under a tweed jacket.
"It's an honor to meet you, Dr.Lawson" Collins returned the handshake and he walked in.
"I have so much to discuss with you, Mr.Collins" Dr.Lawson said as they navigated his home...

Collins got an early start to the day. After a good rest he was up and energized for the day, this was a seldom occurance but a welcomed one. A cup of coffee rested in his right hand as a taxi took him up to Dr.Lawson's home. The driveway was long and freshly redone. The home was of a brick stile with green windo shudders and resembled a British style home, quite welcoming. There was a cobblestone walkway leading to the entrance. Collins glided over it and to the door. His rough hand made a fist and knocked on the door, waiting for a reply. After waiting for a few seconds the door opened and an older man in his fifties with a cane, glasses, and a warm smile opened the old door.
"Mr.Collins, it's an honor to finally meet you" he said, extending his arm out which was hidden under a tweed jacket.
"It's an honor to meet you, Dr.Lawson" Collins returned the handshake and he walked in.
"I have so much to discuss with you, Mr.Collins" Dr.Lawson said as they navigated his home...

OOC: are all the characters work in the same office?

OOC: are all the characters work in the same office?

OOC: Huh? The characters are scattered around the place. My guy is in D.C. interviewing a professor and other people I guess are in D.C. as well.

OOC: oh, i want saffron to interact....can she move to your office? :p

OOC: Huh? The characters are scattered around the place. My guy is in D.C. interviewing a professor and other people I guess are in D.C. as well.

Kuli, check ur other S/U thread :mad:

Kuli, check ur other S/U thread :mad:

Don't you give me that angry smiley face, mister man :mad:

OOC: oh, i want saffron to interact....can she move to your office? :p

OOC: I'm not in an office, I'm in a professor's residence right now.

OOC: calm down boys :fluffle: here...have some fluffles on me ;)

OOC: I'm not in an office, I'm in a professor's residence right now.

OOC: i want saffron to interact......:( its not fair.....she hasnt really got anywhere to base herself.

OOC: i want saffron to interact......:( its not fair.....she hasnt really got anywhere to base herself.

I dunno, I'm sure you can figure something out.

IC:
Saffron went home and sat in her study trying to brainstorm something that needed covering in the news, she had serious writers block. She looked out the window and tried to look for inspiration, she needed someone.....

Paul was in his apartment playing darts. On the dartboard was a picture of the president.
Suddenly,his mobile phone began to ring.

"Hello" He said "What? How do you know my name? A resistance group? Right, I'll be there" And then the line disconnected.
"Ok.....7 o'clock in the park - where i meet the resistance group"

OOC: Can other resistance respond to this?

Collins followed the professor into his study. It was filled with book shelves filled with volumes of philosophy, biographies, and literature of other sorts. Lawson hobbled over to his desk and sat down, tired from long hours of research and writing.
"Mr.Collins, what can I do for you?" Dr.Lawson asked as he set the cane aside and adjusted his glasses.
"Just a plain interview...about your upcoming work and your opinions on these bills breezing through Congress-" Collins began but was interjected.
"Breezing is a good word to put it, Mr.Collins. These bills are breezing through Congress with ease. You see, America is in transit. The old America is dissolving away to make room for this 'new' America." Dr.Lawson was on a role, discussing the current political climate was quite exciting for him. "The NRP though named after the old party has magnified thier old stances ten fold. The war with Iran which occured during Democratic President Bob Connery proved to be the start. After the Republicans lost control of Congress for ten years the war with Iran changed everything. Now, bills like the ban on Gay Rights seem like meer riders whereas years gone by they would never have reached the floor."
"Uh...where do you see the United States in the future?" Collins asked
"A totalitarian state" he shot back without hesitation.
"But many don't see it heading that way. Some even say this is all for the better."
"Mr.Collins, right now this is the honeymoon stage. A democracy simply doesn't go to bed one night and wake up a totalitarian state. These changes take time, as does anything. Though this is not the first step for the NRP, this is their biggest since taking the presidency. Happy times may appear to be here again but it won't last. Soon, it will be too late to turn back and the NRP will eventually control everything." Dr.Lawson paused to gather his thoughts and carried on "If the Rights of Executive pass, it will be similar to Hitler secretly ordering the burning of the Reichstad which allowed him to gain more power. Now, Congress won't burn down or even disappear. Frankly, I don't know what will happen there."

The interview went on for some time more...

Saffron saw the ambulance rushing around the streets, she thought for a moment and flicked through the paper in search of assistant jobs in politics.....

OOC: i want saffron to interact......:( its not fair.....she hasnt really got anywhere to base herself.

OOC: Get her to interact with my character, since all I've done so far is basically describe the Georgetown scenery in D.C.

IC:
Sam was feeling down still, even a day after the inquiry by the NRP interrogators. She had nothing to hide, yet they still barged in, forced her into that office, and barraged her with questions, probing her mind...it wasn't right for a nation built to be a democracy and last bastion of the people. One more nail to shut the coffin door of America...though Sam was stuck in that coffin, with no way of escaping.
It wasn't as if she wasn't patriotic. Sam loved America, and had always, ever since first seeing the stars and stripes flying. But this wasn't America...it seemed almost like Soviet state, in control of the minds and voice of the people, stifling expression, creativity, and imagination. Being an avid history student along with her major in International Relations, Sam could see the direction the country was headed...either dissolvation, or civil war, and neither idea appealed much to her-she'd likely end up dead, working for a government she morally clashed with, or another suppressed civilian on the street.
She sat quietly on a bench before the majestic Washington Monument in historic D.C., a statute to the ages, a starlit pinnacle reaching to all of humanity, shrouded in a cloak of white. But to Sam, the Monument was no longer the symbol of freedom, of peace, of the ideals Washington had preached from his podium almost 250 years before...now it seemed the white-shrouded dagger, the blade that would pierce the heart of democracy and end the ideals of a once proud nation of people and begin the toil of a nation of one-an autocracy. It saddened Sam, as she sat quietly on the bench, simply thinking.

A tall, muscular man strode with the ease of an athlete down the streets of the capital. His face was clean shaven and his hair high and tight, similar to a military haircut. Black sunglasses shrouded his eyes which oberved everything around him, keeping alert and focused. His hair was blond and face abscent of any emotion, almost like steel. The young man continued down the streets, a constant gap between him and others as the shuffled to get out of the way. The clock struck noon and people herded into places to eat and chatted away. Politicians broke for lunch and them and their aides were everywhere.
"Delta One, do you copy?" a voice crackled into his com piece in his ear.
"Delta One here, go ahead" he replied quickly.
"Subject is stationary, remain distance and report back once observation is made" the voice commanded.
"Roger that" and he kept walking, his powerful legs pumping as he quickened his stride to the location the man on the other end gave him.

Blackburn sat in a cheap sleazy motel. Whoever he was going to meet, hadn't showed. But hell, he had a free flight to America, he might as well take a look around. making sure that he had lost all sense of direction he checked itno this motel and paid using cash. No sense in attracting whatever goons that might come looking.

He opened up a small battered laptop and started to research exactly who the hell he was going to meet and exactly who the hell would try and beat the shit out of him for being here.

OOC: Sorry I couldn't put in anything sooner. I was waiting for an opportunity to join in the fray with some police, help with resistance members or at least catch some attention. Well anyway, here goes nothing.

IC: Aayan walked the night streets. Aayan looked around and saw there were no police around right now, but he wouldn't let his gaurd down. He walked for about half an hour until he saw two policemen cornering a woman. Aayan slipped into the shadows of the alley and listened to what was happening. He could hear the woman pleading, "Please... I was only working late..." With that, a thwack cracked in the night air.
"A likely story. Alright Jake, you know what to do now."
"Right away. Hehe... Get ready bitch, you've got hell to pay for now..."
Aayan knew it was now time to stop these men from further harming the woman and prepared to act. He waited for the police to pass his alley and stepped behind them.
He raised his gun and demanded, "Let her go..."
The police heard the man behind them and turned around to see a figure in a cloak that obscured much of his face in the night air. But they could see his Glock 18 aimed right at them.
One policemen spoke, "Easy there buddy... You know who you're dealing with?"
Aayan knew this was not going to end well, negotiating with Americans never did. Aayan answered, "Yes... Two dead men." Aayan fired his Glock at one of the policemen in the forehead. The other one got out his gun and started shootintg. Aayan's cloak was the only thing being scratched at the moment as he rolled over to the policeman. Aayan got behind the policeman and wrapped his arm around the mans chest, got out his knife and slit the mans throught. He turned to the woman, helped her up and told her, "You had best go home before more arrive." With that, he ran away into the night before the woman could say anything.

Bump

Paul was in his apartment playing darts. On the dartboard was a picture of the president.
Suddenly,his mobile phone began to ring.

"Hello" He said "What? How do you know my name? A resistance group? Right, I'll be there" And then the line disconnected.
"Ok.....7 o'clock in the park - where i meet the resistance group"

OOC: Can other resistance respond to this?

ooc: I got you.

7:00 PM

Miguel Fonseca looked down at his watch, "Shouldn't this 'Paul' guy be here right now?"
"'ey, dis was kind of on short notice," a Vietnamese guy whom Miguel only knew as "Ánh" replied, "An' he wan's to join up. Give da guy some time."
The two of them were standing next to a payphone in a park, where once upon a time, the "Memorial to Japanese-American Patriotism" had stood. However, ever since the Japanese government had expressed the fact that they didn't like the NRP government, it had been demolished, and it was now nothing more than a normal park.
Miguel and Ánh were both in black trench coats, with fedoras pulled over their eyes. Both were carrying P90s under the folds of their coats, and Miguel was carrying his pair of Glock 19s as well. He was so used to this now; had he really, once upon a time, been a reporter employed with Amnesty International?
"Well he had better be, before the heat find us," Miguel said, cocking the submachine gun.

Robert drove home, thinking about what that girl had told him.

Pity that she was killed, he thought. Her idealism was...moving. But her ideas...crazy as fuck. I mean, a massive revolt against the NRP - crazy. But now I feel bad. I uphold laws, it's my job - but before the NRP came 'round, my commander told me that we uphold just laws. It's funny that she mentions the constitution. I haven't read that in a while, ever since the government suspended it. I wonder if there's a copy on Google.am...probably not. Fucking censors.

Are we RPing that the NRP censored the Constitution, Declaration of Independence, and all that stuff, after George Washington Sparks' filibuster?

Dr.Lawson and his guest took a short break. Collins headed for the restroom and returned promptly, not wanting to keep the doctor waiting. He took out a bottle of water and took a few quick gulps and flipped open his notepad again.
"Dr.Lawson, the government views the Coalition as an enemy of the state, an organization of terrorists. What is your opinion?" Collins probed, seeking a good answer for a good question. The Coalition was taboo to talk about in many workplaces.
"Mr.Collins, there are two versions of The Coalition. The NRP portarys them as a group of ruthless domestic terrorists, bent on destroying our way of life. Which is true in some sense. Others, the few should I say believe that they are a group of people who value the old standards of which America ived by. As in they believed in democracy, virtue, and freedom. Now, how much of both no one knows. The government has arrested people 'suspected' of being collaborators, sympathizers, or members themselves; however, none of this has ever been proven. Some believe that the government created The Coalition as a sort of bed time ghost story to keep the children afraid and compliant. The children being the people. Of course, that is just my opinion" Dr.Lawson enjoyed the question and sat back in his chair.
"Dr.Lawson...do you believe in The Coalition?" Collins asked, leaning in. speaking softly.
"...I believe there are people out there who still believe in what America once stood for" he shot back, remaining ambiguous; however, there was still some hesitation in his tone, but quickly became confident.

OOC: British Londinium, have your character approach Hollie Ryan. The Agency is trying to lure Collins in, using her to get to him would make for some good drama.

OOC: Do you mind if ANN has Hollie Ryan and John Sparks on the show.

OOC: Do you mind if ANN has Hollie Ryan and John Sparks on the show.

OOC: That sounds great

OOC: Is John Collins ever gonna meet up with Blackburn? I'm kinda stuck.

OOC: Is John Collins ever gonna meet up with Blackburn? I'm kinda stuck.

OOC: Have Blackburn meet him at Dr,Lawson's home

OOC: That sounds great

OOC: OK, after I will have him try and convince Hollie to turn in Johnny?

OOC: How about right after the news interview your character approaches her. This should be good.

OOC: How about right after the news interview your character approaches her. This should be good.

I was thinking that on the show, Stark would name Hollie as one of the rising stars of the party, and hint at a possible post on his cabinent, after the show, he would approach her about it

I was thinking that on the show, Sparks would name Hollie as one of the rising stars of the party, and hint at a possible post on his cabinent, after the show, he would approach her about it

OOC: Okay that sounds good. She could possibly be some sort of liason for the cabinet or whatever you could think of.

I was thinking making her the Secretary of Elections, a new post made by the president.

I was thinking making her the Secretary of Elections, a new post made by the president.

How about press secretary?

OOC: Ok, do you want to make the broadcast, or should I, I am a little busy right now, but I can do it in about an hora or dos

Nothing.

Absolutely bloody nothing.

The censors on the american wireless made it impossible for Blackburn to access anything regarding potential terrorist information. He slammed his laptop shut and reexamined the note.

Then he turned it over.

"In case of an emergency, call this Number - 07234811760"

"I'm a fucking idiot... "

He dialled the number and waited.

Collins sat on the edge of his seat, hooked on every word Dr.Lawson said. His phone wrang in the middle of the interview.
"Excuse me, Dr.Lawson" Collins addmited embarassingly. He took out the phone and flicked it open
"Hello?" he asked into the phone.

OOC: Ok, do you want to make the broadcast, or should I, I am a little busy right now, but I can do it in about an hora or dos

Well, I'm about to turn in. It's late here and I have watch in the morning

Hello...

*cough*

My name is Mr Blackburn. I'm the soldier you wanted to interview, don't talk, listen.

You didn't show up at the airport, but I might have arrived too early or late.. I dunno, But, the fact is I've already had to deal with some pigs already. So I need to meet you soon, and you need to explain to me exactly why the fuck you brought me over here for. I'm not a fucking mercenary for your information either.

You got a lot of explaining to do.

*Click*

The police contingent marched towards Hollie Ryan's residence.

"Men, I want this quick and brutal," ordered Constable Sinclair.

They approached the door.

"Ms. Ryan. This is the Washington Metropolitan Police. Please come with us," they shouted.

OOC: Could someone please summarize the thread so far? And tell me what to do with Hollie Ryan? And redescribe the agency?

William Griffin looked out toward the Washington Monument. He remembered coming down here when he was younger. Sighing a bit he remembered when Washington D.C. represented something different. Now everyday it was slowly becoming a Nazi Germany. He thought of how easy he had it. The government never bothered him and he had a job he enjoyed. Getting up from his bench he looked toward the capitol. It meant nothing now. The NRP controlled everything so why bother even having a senate. William kicked a soda can and looked toward the sky. Things had gone sour in the last couple of years, but William wanted to make a difference. A difference that might topple the whole NRP regime.

OOC: What should I do with my character since I'm kind of stuck too?

William Griffin looked out toward the Washington Monument. He remembered coming down here when he was younger. Sighing a bit he remembered when Washington D.C. represented something different. Now everyday it was slowly becoming a Nazi Germany. He thought of how easy he had it. The government never bothered him and he had a job he enjoyed. Getting up from his bench he looked toward the capitol. It meant nothing now. The NRP controlled everything so why bother even having a senate. William kicked a soda can and looked toward the sky. Things had gone sour in the last couple of years, but William wanted to make a difference. A difference that might topple the whole NRP regime.

OOC: What should I do with my character since I'm kind of stuck too?

IC:
Safron was walking the dog, she walked past the Washington Monument and saw a man looking frustrated.
'Is everything ok?'

William Griffin looked out toward the Washington Monument. He remembered coming down here when he was younger. Sighing a bit he remembered when Washington D.C. represented something different. Now everyday it was slowly becoming a Nazi Germany. He thought of how easy he had it. The government never bothered him and he had a job he enjoyed. Getting up from his bench he looked toward the capitol. It meant nothing now. The NRP controlled everything so why bother even having a senate. William kicked a soda can and looked toward the sky. Things had gone sour in the last couple of years, but William wanted to make a difference. A difference that might topple the whole NRP regime.

OOC: What should I do with my character since I'm kind of stuck too?

There's gonna be a big news interview with Hollie involved, your character can be a guest on another show and the two of them bump into one another.

OOC: British Londinium: In this rp, the Department of Homeland Security is nothing more than Big Brother, they are the arm of the government, suppressing opposition, making arrests, surveillence, etc. Your character I guess can work for a sub group of the Department known simply as "The Agency" they're the real hard-asses of the Department. Your character is going to interview Hollie, ask her about John Collins. Ask her to help them get to Collins in exchange, she'll be given the press secretary position which is open.

Hollie went to the door of her flat and opened the door, a bit suprised and bewildered as to why policemen were at her door.
"W-What's this about, constable?" she asked hesitantly.

As Hollie no doubt had noticed, behind the constable were eighteen masked policemen bearing assault rifles.

"You're needed down at the station," Robert replied coldly.

IC:
Safron was walking the dog, she walked past the Washington Monument and saw a man looking frustrated.
'Is everything ok?'

William looked at the women. He knew that during this times he couldn't trust anyone. If said his opinions out aloud then he might "disappear" the next day, but he still had to carry an appropriate manner.

"Yes everything is all right. I was just a little frustrated because I'm waiting for a call. Thank you for wondering though."

He lied and hoped it was good enough. William started to walk down the street, then he heard his cell phone ring. He wondered who was calling him. Answering it he found out it was from a man inside the publishing company, that was making his book. They had arranged William to get on TV to promote his book and that the ANN had asked him since, A Gallant Charge, had become a best seller. William agreed and decided to go back to his house to get ready.

As Hollie no doubt had noticed, behind the constable were eighteen masked policemen bearing assault rifles.

"You're needed down at the station," Robert replied coldly.

OOC: 18 men with assault rifles? That's a bit tough, but oh well

Hollie was bewildered at the police presence and was scared for a moment. But, she knew she had nothing to hide so she grabbed her coat, purse and hurried out the door, not wanting to keep the constable waiting.

The Metropolitan Police officers sat Hollie in a squad car and drove off to the station where she would be interrogated.

Robert and the Agency attache to the Metropolitan Police followed behind in a government vehicle.

"I will not interfere in your interrogation of the witness," declared Robert.
"No. You will be interrogating her. At no time shall the Agency's involvement be known. It might tip her off," replied the attache, coldly.
"Yes, sir."

Washington Metropolitan Police Headquarters
Classified Sector
Interrogation Bloc

The police officers lead Hollie to an interrogation cell. It was decorated entirely in red and black, with the flag of the NRP plastered on the concrete walls.

Constable Sinclair entered the room, and all but one officer left the room.

"Ms. Ryan, you are ordered to disclose the whereabouts of a Mr. John Collins. If you comply with this directive, you will be granted the position of Press Secretary which you desire so dearly. If you don't, you will suffer. Your world will be turned into an unending cacophony of screams. Do I make myself clear?" he stated, coldly and without emotion.

The officer in the corner tapped his stun baton.

William looked at the women. He knew that during this times he couldn't trust anyone. If said his opinions out aloud then he might "disappear" the next day, but he still had to carry an appropriate manner.

"Yes everything is all right. I was just a little frustrated because I'm waiting for a call. Thank you for wondering though."

He lied and hoped it was good enough. William started to walk down the street, then he heard his cell phone ring. He wondered who was calling him. Answering it he found out it was from a man inside the publishing company, that was making his book. They had arranged William to get on TV to promote his book and that the ANN had asked him since, A Gallant Charge, had become a best seller. William agreed and decided to go back to his house to get ready.

Safron smiled and walked back, she felt so secluded from everyone and everything. her cellphone then rang.
'Saffron, the book - people love it!!!!! guranteed best seller' Harv, her publicity agent.
'thanks' she said.
'You dont sound happy?'
'I just....I don't have a life, getting my daughter to school every day is a mission then the book has taken over anything, I have no friends and...'
Harv hung up, Safron sighed and walked to the school to collect Nova.

That name struck deep into Hollie's soul. A name she hadn't heard for several years. A name she tried to hate but at the same time, still loved. John Collins? She tried to think but the influx of long hidden memories overloaded her mind. All the love and loathing in that name. Tried as she might, she could never forget him. The two of them were the perfect couple, high school sweethearts, destined to be together till they die. Sadly, there love, once a burning fire, smoldered into ash as they somehow grew apart. Circumstances and rumors tore them apart, so...they drifted away in a sea of dispair.
"You want to know where Johnny...I mean John Collins is? I don't know, I haven't seen him in years" she replied, bewildered and frightened.

OOC: The Agency knows where Collins is. They need Hollie as bait to lure a confession of his support for The Coalition and hate for the government out of him so that they will have a creditable reason to arrest him.

ooc: kulikovia - tg

ooc: I got you.

7:00 PM

Miguel Fonseca looked down at his watch, "Shouldn't this 'Paul' guy be here right now?"
"'ey, dis was kind of on short notice," a Vietnamese guy whom Miguel only knew as "Ánh" replied, "An' he wan's to join up. Give da guy some time."
The two of them were standing next to a payphone in a park, where once upon a time, the "Memorial to Japanese-American Patriotism" had stood. However, ever since the Japanese government had expressed the fact that they didn't like the NRP government, it had been demolished, and it was now nothing more than a normal park.
Miguel and Ánh were both in black trench coats, with fedoras pulled over their eyes. Both were carrying P90s under the folds of their coats, and Miguel was carrying his pair of Glock 19s as well. He was so used to this now; had he really, once upon a time, been a reporter employed with Amnesty International?
"Well he had better be, before the heat find us," Miguel said, cocking the submachine gun.

Paul scrouched behind the wall and looked at the two figures. The light was getting poorer,but he could just make out their appearance. It was the two resistance members.

Paul checked the ammo on his HK P8 and HK 21e (just in case), holstered them, and strode over to the two men.
"Hi" He said. "I'm Paul"

(OOC: The HK P8 is a pistol and the HK 21e is a LMG. Both can be found by going to www.hkpro.com and clicking on 'the world of HK'. It will come up with a long list of HK weapons)

OOC: Safrons job now is a sympathezier for the coalition - this move was made to improve her position in the thread.

Delta One loomed a block away from Dr.Lawson's residence; however, Collins wasn't the target of his operation...the professor was. He kept low in an alley, he saw someone enter the residence and decided to wait for a while, observing any movement or developements which were none. Boredom began to set in but he stayed focused, ready for any order to be given. He was highly trained and disciplined. Delta One scanned the area, nothing. It was all clear, all he needed was a green light.
"Delta One, status report" barked the voice in his ear piece
"Target is inside the residence. Another subject entered it at 6:32 and has not yet departed, orders?"
"Remain in position, did you get an ID on the other subject?"
"Negative" Delta One replied without hesitation.
"Present orders stand. Check back in half an hour. Report any movement, over" and the air went silent. Delta One hunkered down for a stake out.

Safron was happy that she had changed jobs, she didn't know who to report to though...

OOC: How about your character go to Dr.Lawson's residence. He's a fellow sympathizer for the Coalition and has left a message on your cellphone to meet him soon.

OOC: How about your character go to Dr.Lawson's residence. He's a fellow sympathizer for the Coalition and has left a message on your cellphone to meet him soon.

Safron started to walk to Dr. Lawsons office, she was nervous, she slid her sunglasses up her nose and wrapped her coat tighter around her slim body. Her hair was tied in a high tight ponytail and ran straight down to the middle of her back.

OOC: Kuklikova, you gonna let Blackburn do anything? I'm all ears.

OOC: Kuklikova, you gonna let Blackburn do anything? I'm all ears.

OOC: Uh...Blackburn could be Collins bodyguard or something. Any ideas from you?

Delta One scanned across the area once more, this time he saw a woman approach down the street, coming his way. His back pressed up against the wall, he was in the shadows but it never hurt to conceal himself more. Being seen would compromise everything and his superiors do not take failure lightly.
"Delta One to Delta Base, over" he silently whispered
"Go ahead Delta One" the voice replied swiftly.
"Contact made. I have movement, fifty yards away and closing. May just be nobody but will remain to observe" he said.
"Good, keep us posted" and it went silent again.

Safron stopped and lit up a cigarette, she then carried on and looked at the paper she had been given with the address on, she looked at the block numbers, she sensed a little unease as if she was being watched, she carried on regardless up the steps.

OOC: Call for some help if you need it. He is ex military y'know, and Collins has his number.

There was a knock on the door. Dr.Lawson perched up in his chair and looked out his study. The interview was going well and carried on for a long time and both were getting tired.
"Mr.Collins, do you mind if we wrap this up tomorrow? I have a busy schedule as I'm sure you do to" Dr.Lawson said with an uneasy smile, something was bothering him and he seemed quick to have Collins leave.
"Uh, that's fine Dr.Lawson, thanks for sitting down to talk to me. It's been an honor" Collins replied, nearly blindsided by the suddeness of it all and he stood up gathering his things. Dr.Lawson rose wearily from his chair and went around the desk and accompanied Collins to the door. They shook hands and Collins opened the door to a young woman who was waiting.
"Excuse me" Collins said, shuffling off to the side and walked down the stairs.

Dr.Lawson looked at the woman, "Please come in Miss" he said to her and stepped aside. Safron and Dr.Lawson met several times professionally and this is the first time he ever invited her over. He had some important things to discuss.

Across the street Delta One radioed in everything that just occured
"Green light" the voice said in his ear and Delta One disappeared around the building...

The two of them didn't introduce themselves back. Instead, from Ánh, "Foo', what da fuck you doin' wit' dat big gun in public? Get ovah heah, behind dis tree!"
With that, Ánh grabbed the guy and pulled him behind a tree. Miguel sighed; where the hell was the finesse in this?
"You'll...have to excuse my comrade," Miguel said, "He's a bit testy. We all are, what, with the secret police crawling all over the place."
"My name is Ismael. Ismael Trejo," he continued, "This is my comrade, Bùi Ánh. Now, if you know anything, I suppose you know those aren't our real names. Unless 'Paul' isn't your real name too, I suggest you find a fake ID for yourself."
"Now, we call ourselves 'Da Coalition,'" Ánh said, "We da ones fightin' fo' da freedom of dis nation. Fo' da real ideals of dis country. But we need to know dat you in wit' us fo' sure."
"What does that mean, comrade?" Miguel said, "Some people come to us saying they want to be resistance fighters. But they can't really do it. They can wave guns at NRP officials, but they can't pull the trigger. If you're like that, you'd better go right now, and forget ever meeting us."
"But, if you're not..." he continued, pulling out a sheet of crumpled notebook paper from is pocket, "That's the name, address, everything of a Secret Police operative. Kill him. We'll be with you to make sure that it's you whose doing it."

"Ms. Ryan, let me remind you that failure to answer will be...most painful," stated Sinclair, an evil smile growing on his face.

Dr.Lawson looked at the woman, "Please come in Miss" he said to her and stepped aside. Safron and Dr.Lawson met several times professionally and this is the first time he ever invited her over. He had some important things to discuss.

Across the street Delta One radioed in everything that just occured
"Green light" the voice said in his ear and Delta One disappeared around the building...

'Hello' she said, shortly.
'I believe...there is a plan.....i felt a suspicious feeling outside, like extreme paranoia, I think we should leave now' she said.

Bump

OOC: Kulikovia, can you RP Hollie's response?

"Ms. Ryan, let me remind you that failure to answer will be...most painful," stated Sinclair, an evil smile growing on his face.

Hollie sat there, struggling to understand what the constable wanted. Why would they want Johnny? Whay did he do? A heavy burden rested on her shoulder as she sat there. On the other side, a darker side of her mind was the chance to be either working for the press secretary or actually being the voice of the president. That idea was exciting but what she would have to do seemed scary. Her life was also on the line.
"Constable" she finally said "I'll do it" she surrendered in a subtle defeated tone. The government was using her to get to him and possibly kill Johnny; however, she thought up a plan at the same time.

OOC: The Agency knows where Collins is. Like I said before, they just need to get a confession from him. She's the bait.

Meanwhile...

Dr.Lawson scanned up and down the street, his glasses focused on whatever he could see, but saw nothing.
"It's safe, please come in" he said. Delta One skirted the building and crossed the street several houses down and made his way up a back alley towards the professor's residence. Collins continued his slow walk down the street.

Safron nervously sat down.
'so...how have you been?'

William quickly got back to his house. His book had become a best seller easily and a TV station wanted to interview him, but it was run by those NRP scum. It didn't matter to him. He would go along with the interview and it would be good for his book. Getting ready soon a car came to drive him to the TV station's building. Entering the building he waited for his interview which would happen in a hour. William was a little nervous about the interview, but more nervous about being in a place run by the NRP.

Dr.Lawson sat his weary body down behind the large desk and sat back. He took off his glasses and set them gently on the desk, leaning forward now, he spoke "Safron, it's been a while since we last spoke. Things have changed. I know your feelings towards the government and you've been very overt with your words. I think it's time that we met someone with the Coalition" he said.

Delta One approached the side of the building, keeping low he took off his coat and hid it away. Now, he made his way to the back of the house, over a small wooden fence and crept up to the kitchen door. Taking out a lock pick he began to jimmy open the door. After a few seconds the door opened and he slid in, quietly closing the door. It was quiet, except for a low murmur he heard come from the study. He quickly took out his knife and snuck down the hallway, inching closer

Collins continued down the pavement when he realized that he forgot his notepad. So, he grumbled and turned back around, heading for the residence...

Safron felt a presence.
'If you think that is a wise move then we should do it' She stroked the handgun in her trousers.

Collins walked back up the stairs and knocked on the door. It was getting colder outside and he thrusted his hands back into the coat pockets and waited. The knocking caused Dr.Lawson to look towards the door and stopped talking. Delta One made his move, skillfully dashing down the rest of the hallway he thrusted his massive shoulders into the door, knocking it open. A woman sat in the chair and quickly moved towards her like a wolf, the objective wasn't to kill anyone other than the professor and Delta One was known to stick to his orders quite well and moved to knock her out.

Collins heard a loud crash inside
"Dr.Lawson?!" he called out "Open the door!" there was no answer, only a loud comotion inside. So he began to put his shoulder into the door, struggling to force it open. Something was happening inside, something bad. Dr.Lawson tried to get up but Delta One moved too fast...

Safron fell to the floor, she was sick with fear, she scrabbled slowly to the door, she scratched at the handle......
'help me' she whispered through the key hole, she undid the lock and flopped out into the corridor in front of Collins.

Delta One continued his charge, blind to the woman, his sights set on Dr.Lawson who scrambled to open a drawer which held a revolver. The killer leaped over the desk and tackled Dr.Lawson, forcing the older professor to the ground, his head smacking against the ground. Delta One kicked him once and grabbed him by the head, exposing his throat. The knife snapped open.

The door finally slid open, he rushed in, seeing a frightened woman on the floor.
"Hide now!" he said to her and made his way down the hallway. Delta One drew the knife across the professor's throat, blood spurting out onto the floor. The killer, satisfied in his work let go of the professor who fell to the floor, gurggling. All of a sudden Collins charged right into the killer's back, hurling his shoulder into his spine, the two of them falling forwards. Delta One was quick to recover but the knife slid away. He grabbed Collins and threw him on the table, his fist coming down viciously onto Collins who desperatley tried to fend him off; however, Delta One overpowered him and threw him off the table and onto the hard wooden floor...

Safron got up, hid in the corner, hiding her face, it was so beautiful but so scared.

The five Senators sat around the table, in absolute silence. One of them, Corey Prince, absent-mindedly pushed a pencil around in a circle, with the the eraser and the lead point forming two concentric circles about each other. Another, Jonathan Miller tapped his fingers in a rythemic pattern, a beat similiar to the gallop of a horse.

Suddenly, a man in a white polo shirt stepped into the room. Attached to his collar was a small American flag lapel pin, a tiny waving stars and stripes, a gift from his father.

The man took a seat at the head of the table, and welcomed everyone in the room, "Hello everyone, Jonathan, Micheal, Corey; how are the kids by the way, Jay; are we still on for saturday's tee time, nine o'clock correct?" the lawmaker known as Jay nodded, and a noticable air of calm punctured the uneasy silence that existed previously, "and how are you my friend, Vincent DeGrappa, it is good to see you, how was your trip to California, I am sorry to hear that your canidate lost, you suprised me with your open endorsement of him."

DeGrappa replied, "Oh, my trip was fine, thanks George, I took the kids to Disneyland afterwards, the Secret Service got them on all the rides without standing in line, so they love their bodygaurds even more." DeGrappa was the seventh highest-ranking member of the Senate, thus Secret Service agents tagged his family continuously, in case some unfourtunate circumstances arose.

George continued, "You all probably understand why I invited you to this meeting, you are, like myself, reluctent members of the New Republican Party. Most of you probably joined believing that you could change the Party from the inside out; we were mistaken. The Party will stay the Party so long as it stays the only relevent force in American politics. First and foremost, any hopes of changing the status quo will die with the signing of the Executive Powers Bill, thus we must stop it. If anyone wishes not to be involved in this, please speak up now," No one said a word, and George carried on with his instruction of his class of world-weary, yet charismatic Senators, "I don't care how you kill this bill, I don't care if you attach rider after rider, I don't care if you have to filibuster, I don't care if you distrubute copies to the American People, shit, if dancing around in the Rotunda naked will halt its progress, do it." The last comment forced snickers out of George's audience, futher lightening the mood. "While we kill this, you need to make favors, lots of favors, what we will do next requires many of them. We are going to take on the NRP on the battlegrounds of America, on election day, in every district, in every state, we are going to fight them at their own game, any questions?"

Delta One strode towards him, fire consuming his eyes. Hand to hand combat was a specialty of which he enjoyed. He toyed with Collins. Collins extended his leg out, kicking Delta One in the knee, forcing his leg to the side as he grunted in pain. Collins staggered up and moved towards the killer who was even more fierce now, like a wounded animal. His elbow smashed into Collin's face and he staggered back into the book shelf, knocking volumes of books onto the floor.
"I'll kill you!" Delta One shouted, losing his temper and headed towards Collins who side stepped and punched Delta One in the kidney. They continued to battle across the room, knocking over everything they came into. Collins felt blood rushing down his head and became dizzy, exhausted from the physical strain of fighting. Delta One had seemingly unending stamina and seemed unphased. He grabbed Collins once more and tossed him like a toy across the room and he slid across it. The man was near passing out when he looked through the blood and sweat across the floor the knife! He scrambled towards it, unbalanced and ready to pass out. Delta One grabbed a heavy trophy which he intended to smash it over Collin's head; however, he staggered to his feet, dizzy. Delta One charged, raising the trophy up high and shouting a war cry. Collins stuck out the knife at the last second, thrusting the knife into Delta One's soft belly. It struck deep into his intertines, severing several of them, blood began to rush out. Delta One fell into Collin's arms, the trophy fell to the ground with a thud. The killer staggered back and onto the floor, he was finished. He began to bleed out...

Collins staggered back, blood on his shirt and hands. The knife dropped to the floor, he was stunned at what just happened. Dr.Lawson lay dead and the killer nearly dead as well.
"W-Who sent you?!" Collins demanded, already knowing the answer. Delta One lay bleeding, clenching his belly which was bloodied, he refused to answer, saying nothing. He was trained too well. The darkness crept over him and he exhausted his last breath and expired on the floor. Collins was in throbbing pain, blood ran down his head as his entire body was sore. He staggered out of the room, bewildered.
"Are you still here?!" he called out, wondering if the woman was still around. She must've knew why this all happened.

Safron saw all the blood, she felt sick, she paled in colour. She looked at Collins.
'what......'

"What were you and Dr.Lawson discussing?" Collins wanted to know what exactly was going on. This whole episode was like a nightmare. Now he'd just killed a man something of which he never desired to do. He wasn't raised a killer but now he did.

He tried to gather his thoughts "Who are you?" he asked, trying to get the blood off his hands.

'We need to keep you alive' she said, stroking the blood off of his face.
'My name is Safron, a sympathizer for the coalition, first day on the job'.

she then applied pressure on the open wounds and ran some warm water.

Collins stood there, brushing her away slightly. He didn't know who to trust. They were all in danger and Dr.Lawson is dead.
"What exactly did Dr.Lawson want from you? Did he give names or anything?" he asked, pacing around the room.

'no, he didn't this is my first day, i have no knowledge of no-one or anything, i felt uneasy when coming here, i told him and he brushed the subject off, we didnt get down to any names or situations'

Dr.Lawson a sympathizer? So many questions rattled through his brain. Everything was happening too fast and he felt dizzy.
"How do you know Dr.Lawson?" he asked as he took up the knife and stowed it in his bag which lay on the ground.

The two of them didn't introduce themselves back. Instead, from Ánh, "Foo', what da fuck you doin' wit' dat big gun in public? Get ovah heah, behind dis tree!"
With that, Ánh grabbed the guy and pulled him behind a tree. Miguel sighed; where the hell was the finesse in this?
"You'll...have to excuse my comrade," Miguel said, "He's a bit testy. We all are, what, with the secret police crawling all over the place."
"My name is Ismael. Ismael Trejo," he continued, "This is my comrade, Bùi Ánh. Now, if you know anything, I suppose you know those aren't our real names. Unless 'Paul' isn't your real name too, I suggest you find a fake ID for yourself."
"Now, we call ourselves 'Da Coalition,'" Ánh said, "We da ones fightin' fo' da freedom of dis nation. Fo' da real ideals of dis country. But we need to know dat you in wit' us fo' sure."
"What does that mean, comrade?" Miguel said, "Some people come to us saying they want to be resistance fighters. But they can't really do it. They can wave guns at NRP officials, but they can't pull the trigger. If you're like that, you'd better go right now, and forget ever meeting us."
"But, if you're not..." he continued, pulling out a sheet of crumpled notebook paper from is pocket, "That's the name, address, everything of a Secret Police operative. Kill him. We'll be with you to make sure that it's you whose doing it."

Paul sped down the road. The 17 inch aluminium wheels and chunky off-road tyres on his green Wrangler X Jeep tore up the mud on the dirt road stretching out in front of him.
He glanced down at the bit of crumpled paper that anh had given him. This was the right road.
He pulled up sharply a few kilometers on.
"Thank god this is country" He said. "nobody can hear gunfire"
The HK 21e is designed so it can fire with sniper-rifle like accuracy if neccesary. This was going to come in handy.
Paul hoisted his Port Chamonix backpack off his shoulder. He opened it and managed to find a 4x scope among his ammo boxes for the 21e,binoculars,food,drink,laptop,and his map.
He attached it to the 21e.
He flicked off the safety.
He took aim at a silhoutte in a window of a solitary house.
He fired.
The figure collapsed.

OOC: I have got to say, this RP is hopeless, thought this was supposed to be a political thriller, not a stupid "hey everyone, let's overthrow the government" if this does not get better, I may have to leave.

'well I recieved a letter of acceptance and I was told to come here, very vague....' she said.

'pardon me to be bold, but I want to clean you up' she said, sporting her warm mother glow.

Hollie sat there, struggling to understand what the constable wanted. Why would they want Johnny? Whay did he do? A heavy burden rested on her shoulder as she sat there. On the other side, a darker side of her mind was the chance to be either working for the press secretary or actually being the voice of the president. That idea was exciting but what she would have to do seemed scary. Her life was also on the line.
"Constable" she finally said "I'll do it" she surrendered in a subtle defeated tone. The government was using her to get to him and possibly kill Johnny; however, she thought up a plan at the same time.


"Good," Sinclair replied. "This ordeal, however, is not over. You are to remain in custody, being placed under review by a special tribunal. You are being tried for sedition and treason," he said curtly.

Bump

Bump

bump

Lol?

Dead.

Dead.

As the american airborne colonel says as the grave bridge is blown up in front of him in the movie
'a bridge too far':

"Shit"

whats happened here?