NationStates Jolt Archive

At the Driddish Internation Police HQ.....

Captain Jace Aclyder burst into the chief's office. "You called, sir?" The Chief, a rather round and bald man, bellowed at him even before he'd opened teh door. "Get your team into the van, we've had a takeover at the embassy. Looks like those damn DCA pukes again." Jace spun on his heel without another word, heading for the equipment room. His standard loadout was waiting for him: Black BDU's, kevlar body armor, helmet with shrapnel visor, Driddish 'Jackal' SMG, Driddish 'Puma' sidearm, soft-soled black boots, black gloves, flashbang grenades, and extra ammo. His team had geared up in his abcense. He dressed quickly, holstering his Puma in its hip holster and slinging his Jackal's strap over his shoulder. "Let's move!" The SWAT team piled into the van and sped off towards 35th Avenue, where the embassy was located. The team piled out, ducking under the barricades that the patrol cops ahd set up.




Inside the Embassy.....

Evan Tavish paced back and forth inside the control center of the embassy, a 9mm Berretta clutched firmly in his right hand. He eyed the hostages with contempt. He hated these Imperialist pigs. He had fifteen in total, mostly just regular employees, but a few important dignitaries had been kind enough to 'grace' him with their presence. His men had already checked and re-checked for hidden weapons, and an EMP generator in the far corner prevented any sort of teleportation or nano-weaponry from being activated. All hostages had been bound hand and foot, to prevent any kicking. Evan had a rather bad expeirence with that. As an officer in the Driddish Communist Army, he'd been entrusted with this important mission, to make the democratic government of Driddain yield to his demands. The demands entailed the release of a number of imprisoned DCA members, as well as transportation to the Badlands for himself and his crew. He'd already annouced his demands to the police outside, but none of them had been met yet. He glanced at his watch: 5:01 PM. Time for him to send them a little reminder. He angled one of the security cameras away from the wall to cover the hostages. He was sure that the police ahd already hacked into the embassy's security systems. One of Evan's men hauled a middle-aged man in a buisness suit towards the camera. "People of Driddain. The demands of the DCA have not been met. I gave you three hours, which is ample time. I'll send you a reminder...." Evan placed the barrel of the M92 against the man's head. He winced as the cold steel made contact with his scalp. Evan pulled the trigger without a second thought. The 9mm hollowpoint bullet tore through the man's head like a hot razor through butter, blowing blood and brain matter all over the floor. The other hostages screamed in terror and surprise, and a few started to weep. The unfortunate man's body slumped to the floor in the puddle of his own blood. Another of Evan's men grabbed the still-bleeding body and dumped it down the stairs outside the heavy metal door, which was then shut and locked securely. No one was getting inside the room without Tavish knowing about it. Evan held the bloody Berretta up to the camera. "See what you ingonorance has done? Yield to my demands! Release the prisoners! I give you an hour to do these things, otherwise I kill a second hostage." He grinned a demonic grin. This might actually work.....

OOC: If you wanna join in, I'd appreciate it if you played a hostage, visiting dignitary, or someone the DCA missed in their sweep of the embassy, but it's up to you. They can be armed, unarmed, whatever.

The DCA has soldiers patroling around the spacious embassy grounds, and there is a Driddish SWAT team preparing to make entry.

OOC: Damn shame. Looks like a decent RP. I'd join, but I've got a few too many going as it is. Hopefully others will join.

OOC: Thanks. I think I'll just BUMP this thingie...

Israel Hands crouched his head deep into his stomach, hands over his ears from the previous gunfire, and prayed that he would live. He had been at the embasy for nearly Five minutes before everything went to hell, he had only been in this country for fifteen minutes after recently getting off the plane.

"What a way to start my career as a foriegn minister." Hands mumbled to himself. He had been with the foriegn ministry office in his home land of Jiggady for about a year, and this was to be his first assignment abroad to open up trade lines between this nation and his own. He looked over to Miss. Turner, the pretty young girls face was spoiled by her crying which caused her makeup to run all over. "Damn" He thought inwardly, "I even had a hot young secretary, and I heard all the stories from the senior ministers about their secretaries."

His internal monuloge was cut off by more gunfire from the hulking terrorist, firing into the air to keep up his imposed authority. All he could do was to huddle with the rest of the hostages assembled in the corner, and not draw attention to himself.

OOC: Finally. It didn't die!

IC:

Jace's team 'stacked up', the term used to tell the members to line up and prepare for entry. The Driddish SWAT team had eight members; six were armed with the Jackal SMG, and the other two had the world-famous 9mm Arachnid PMG (Personal MiniGun). Tiko, the demolitions guy, slapped a C2 charge on the door, the dashed back around the corner. He slapped the buttom and the charge detonated. A pair of flashbangs sailed in miliseconds after the explosion. Blinding light lit the area, and a deafening boom echoed through the embassy's glossy halls. "Move it!" He shouted to his team. He brought up his Jackal and moved swiftly but silently through the door. His team secured the first few rooms with no incident. A chorus of 'Clear's sounded as they found no hostiles in the rooms. Sanchez, one of the SWAT with a PMG, took point and moved through the halls. Jace got in behind Smith, the second PMG officer, and the two teams split up, each containing four officers.....

Evan Tavish watched the SWAT team on the monitors with a sly grin. His men had wired the place with traps and other lethal surprises at key choke points. He had also had a few of his men hidden in the embassy, which hadn't arrived with his team in the delivery van.

Sanchez rounded a corner and encountered a man holding an outdated AK-47. A burst of 9mm hollowpoints nearly vaporized the hostile, his weapon being thrown down the hall a few feet by the gunfire. The PMG was a vicious CQB weapon, having an deliverable ROF of two thousand rounds a minute. SWAT officers carrying the PMG carried a pair of five-hundred round belts, and each officer on the team carried an additional belt, for backup reasons. The four officers fanned out, clearing rooms adjacent to the hallway and taking cover in them. A pair of terrorists rounded the corner and opened up with an UZI and a Steyer TMP. 9mm rounds filled the wide hallway, clipping Sanchez's shoulder as he took cover in a nearby office. The kevlar held, so no damage. Tiko flung a flashbang into the hallway. As soon as the grenade blew, Sanchez stepped into the hallway and nearly cut the two men in half with gunfire. "CLEAR!" He shouted, cracking a lightstick and flinging it at the bodies. They formed up again and rounded the corner. "Tenlee, Anderson, clear right!" The two officers broke off and entered the room. "CLEAR!" They shouted out the door. "Holsinger, left!" Sanchez and Holsinger stepped into the office. Sanchez tripped a nearly-invisible wire with his boot. A sharp snapping noise followed, then a 2x4 with a series of nails driven into it slapped outward at head-level. The sturdy steel nails shattered Sanchez's helmet and pierced his skull. "Holy f**king shit!" Holsinger shouted in surprise. "OFFICER DOWN! OFFICER DOWN!" He shouted down the hall and into his shoulder mic.

Evan grinned like a demon as he watched Sanchez's head become a pincushion. That trap was a particular favorite of his, simple to make and VERY effective. "Did ya see that, Ril?" He said excitedly. "Popped his head like a ripe melon!" Ril says with a cackle.

OOC: A wee bump laddie....

OOC: Why does no one join this damn thing?

OOC: Yet another wee bump...

Bump yet again.

All the rest had been rounded up. Some were already dead. It's up to me to try to do something. But what if I was shot, what if they find me and kill me? No, I have to try to do something. Where to start though? I'm not armed, I am just the technician they called in to fix a power failure in an office complex on the second floor.

Suddenly, he heard something......footsteps. coming closer and closer. They sounded heavy, perhaps a large man. Then he heard what he thought sounded like a bolt being cocked on a rifle or firearm. The footsteps were almost at the doorway.

Run? no, too late. He's almost here. I have to do something....MY WRENCH! THAT'S IT!.

The footsteps began to become louder and louder.........Then, he peeked his head out of the doorway and saw a large man with a sock hat on and, from what he knew, and AK-74 hanging from his left hand, his side of the hallway.

The man began to continue down the hallway. then, when the man was about three feet away from the doorway.......CRACK!

"I........I did it. I think he's dead. Yes, he has to be, I've never seen that much blood in my life. It all seems to be coming from that gash on his left temple. Well, at least I have this (picks up AK-74). I think i know how to use it, can't be that hard. now, all I have to do is get outta here! But what about all the others. I was lucky, they will all probably be shot......I have to do something."


He runs down the hall towards the stairs, with the rifle in his hands.

" I can't believe I'm gonna do this; It's the right thing to do."

BUMP

Jace and his team rounded a corner to find a man standing over a bleeding corpse, holding a bloody wrench and an AK-74. "Freeze!" He shouted, bringing his weapon to bear.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" said the technician, "Please, I am not a terrosrist! I-I killed this guy because I thought he was a terrorist so I killed him! I am on your side! I'm just a technician!"

The technician drops the wrench and the rifle, hands trembling, still not sure whether the men are police or military forces, or a group of terroists.

A Trasian Dignitary wanders the Halls staying out of any Terrorists way

Trasian:i have gotta get out of here and contact the TSD

He knew he heard something.............

He leans into the hallway, seeing what seems to be a civillian and a group of police, S.W.A.T. most likely.

He leans back up against the wall, putting a new clip into his G3A3.

"Now all I have to do is wait for the right moment. At least they don't see me."

"It's okay, you're safe now. Pick up the rifle and come to us." Jace says with a motion that is directed towards the area behind him.

The Trasian Dignitary checks and sees that the Lugar he stole is still there

He leans back around the corner. The police force is leading the man out.
He takes aim and flips off the safety. His first shot hits the civillian in the back, just below the collar bone. he then begins to open fire on the police force that had just begun to round the corner. he saw one member of the police team get hit, but he wasn't sure if it had gotten through the kevalar.

The Trasian hears the sounds

Trasian:oh shi$

takes out lugar and enters a room that's empty and aims for the Door

Evan Tavish watches the man with the G3A3 intently. "Looks like ya got company, laddie..." He said to Jace's picture on the screen. "Wonder if he'd like a wee bit of work, eh Ril?" Ril just cackled again and menaced a hostage. Evan laughed. Ril wasn't too bright, but he was loyal, and that counted for more than brains in his buisness. Besides, thinking was his job.

He heard the bolt click. He was out. He leans against the wall, feverishly pulling out a new clip and reloading. He looks across the hall and sees a room with an open door. its a broom closet, barely large enough to be able to fit HIM inside. he decides, he runs for it. One of the police operatives fires and hits him in the knee. He hears his own knee break apart like a brittle piece of bread. he fumbles into the closet, blind firing into the hall.

The Trasian delegate walks slowly into the hall with his weapon drawn

Jace angrily returns fire, his bullets raking the wall at head level.

Down the hall from which he just came, he sees a man with a drawn pistol slowly advancing through the hallway. he doesn't seem to be an officer. he slowly takes aim.....then fires.........

the Trasian get's wounded in the arm so he drops to the Floor and returns fire while crawling back into his Closet

Trasian:YOU SHALL NOT CAPTURE ME LIKE THE OTHERS TERRORIST!

The terrosist sees the bullets from the return fire rip through the thin wall that seperates them. he then realizes that this wasn't one of the best decisions he had made in his life. He now has to deal with the police, a shattered knee, and a man with a pistol who he is almost positive he shot, but not sure where.

Jace hastily rounds the corner, slamming a kick into the man's other knee. He drops, and Jace puts a knee across his shoulder blades, preventing him from moving. "You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, the right to a fair trial, and the right to a lawyer, should you not be able to provide yourself with one." He reaches for his twisti-cuffs. The officer who had been hit staggered a bit, the 5.56mm had punctured his kevlar, and he was headed out of the building.

suddenly, a bullet rips through the terrorists hand. it feels like someone just impaled his hand with a hot poker. he looks, and sees the man with the pistol slowly crawling back into the room from which he came. That must have been the little bastarde that shot him him in the hand. guess he wasn't dead after all. good shot too.

the Trasian crawls into the closet and aims at the Door just in case he tries to follow

The terrorist was stunned, he didn't even hear the officer run down the hall. while the officer is putting the cuffs on, he begins to violently wriggle. The officers knee slips off his back. then with his free hand, he pulls out a .357 pistol and takes aim at the officer.............

the Trasian opens his Door and shoots at the Terrorist again

Just as he is taking aim at the officer, a pistol shot rang through the hallway. A bullet rips through the terroists head. his limp body falls to the ground. there is an entry wound the size of an acorn and an exit wound the size of a small tangerine in the back of his head.

Trasian:THAT was for my arm you son of a bi%%

The technician gets up, he is mortally wounded. Crazed by the fact that he is going to die, he runs madly down the hall. one of the officers tries to detain him, but it is too late. while staggering down the hall, the technician hears a high pitched twang.........

A head cracking explosion is heard. The technician tripped a grenade trap. The Russian F1 grenade that went off left the technicians left leg hanging on by a shred of flesh. he was dead.

Jace drew the Puma from its hip holster and leveled it at the man. "DROP THE WEAPON!" He shouts angrily, his finger beginning to tighten on the trigger.

He can see almost every thing from his position on a nearby rooftop. he can see the pathetic police officers scrambling around like little bees, busy at work. He looks through his scope. at 30x magnification, he could almost shoot a ping-pong ball out of your hand. his modified PSG-1 that he outfitted himself with had been most impressive for the past few hours.
He would now lie in wait, trying to see if he could get a shot at a high ranking official or a police officer at the top regions of the food chain.

Trasian:WAIT DON'T SHOOT! I'M ON YOUR SIDE! i just saved your hide from this terrorist

points to body with hold in head

Trasian:i am the Trasian Delegate, i avoided capture for about 2 hours

"You see this?" Jace moves the Puma slightly. "The .38 in the chamber was for his ass, not yours." He stands, kicking the corpse lightly to see if it moved. "You've got the right to rot in hell, ya bastard."

Sounds of chattering gunfire and muffled explosions pentrated the embassy's walls, reaching the interior room where several DCA members still held a number of hostages, including the ambassador and several members of his staff.

The several terrorists had been ordered by Tavish to move the more important hostages towards the interior of the building, just in case counter-terrorist forces made their move into the building. It was a good thing the men had followed orders because it sounded like a hell of a battle was raging outside.

Each DCA man wore a Kevlar flak jacket with an eight clip mag holder strapped around his waist. A CZ-75 automatic pistol was securely fastened to a leg with a Cold Steel combat knife sheathed at the other. As their primary weapon, each terrorist carried an AK-74SU assault rifle with eight high-capacity magazines as well as carrying Mark II frag grenades attached to their mag holders. Mesh hoods over their faces all but concealed their identities.

What sounded like a fragmentation grenade went off outside the closed and locked door, blowing something apart with a loud boom. As the reports reached the room, the hostages began screaming in terror, shouts and panicked screams filling the room. Angry terrorists stomped about, trying to silence them.

"Shut up!" screamed one of the terrorists as he raised his Kalashnikov rifle, smashing a screaming man across the face with the butt. Blood spurted from the man's mouth and he fell backwards unconscious, blood seeping from his mouth. Other terrorists thrashed about with the butts of their guns until the hostages had stopped screaming.

As smoke drifted in under the door, the terrorists checked to make sure that their AK's were locked and loaded. It would be one hell of a fight....

Andrew Williams, the diplomat to Driddian from Sliponia hides under his desk. He has pressed the panic button which has sent a warning to several officials in Sliponia as well as government officials in Driddian informing them of the situation. He holds a small pistol in his hand which he took from his desk. He unhooks a kevlar vest from the bottom of his desk. He takes off his suit coat shirt, and undershirt to put the vest on. He then redresses and begins to think of a plan of action.

OOC: Someone who wants to rescue this diplomat TG me and we'll figure something out.

A man steps silently out of the shadows, wrapping a large arm around the neck of a passing terrorist, and wrenching his neck apart. His partner caught a spinning elbow in the throat, rupturing his windpipe. If anything could be said about Dekker, it was that he knew how to kill people, quickly, quietly, efficently. Picking up the AK47 that terrorists around the world love so much, Dekker slid a few clips into his pockets, followed by a CZ75. The shirt he'd paid to have made for him was ragged and torn. Dekker had gotten to the point that his BDU shirts had to be custom-tailored, otherwise he'd pop a seam every time he moved. Dekker had the chest dimensions of a beer keg, solid and powerful. He stood on two powerful legs, the rippling muscle concealed in the folds of a baggy pair of BDU-style khaki pants. Dekker silently cursed for leaving his Hardballer and survival knife at back at the hotel, but the Driddish were fickle about those kind of things. He moved silently down the hall, slipping from shadow to shadow.

'Terrorists are a major pain in the ass...' Dekker thought to himself as he neared the office sector of the complex.

As the terrorists in the interior room held their positions, the door began to rattle as if someone was trying to force it open from the outside. The chains placed around the door's handles began to move and jiggle as the door was pushed and pulled, but to no avail. Hostages looked up in apprehension as the door continued to move, hope evident on their faces.

"Save us! Help! There's terrorists in here!" shouted a young man dressed in an expensive suit. The commanding terrorist recognized him as the ambassador's aide-de-camp.

"Shut up, you imperialist pig!" shouted the terrorist as he crossed the room. Raising his booted feet, he quickly stomped and kicked the man down to the floor. Blow after blow rained down on the hapless man as blood flowed from bruises and cuts on his face.

"Are you finished now?!" shouted the commander. As he spoke, the bloodied man heaved himself up on one arm and opened his mouth as if to shout again. At this, one terrorist pulled his CZ-75; pointing it at the wounded man's head, he pulled the trigger. With a loud crack, the man's head disintegrated, spraying hostages with blood and brain matter. Screams broke out anew, but they were added to by some shouting from the other side of the door.

"Brothers! Open the door! I'm a friend!"

The terrorists shot concerned glances at one another, then with three men covering the door, the leader unchained it and flung it open. A bloodied man wearing the shreds of a Kevlar vest and missing his AK-47 stumbled into the room and collapsed on his knees. The terrorist commander quickly grabbed the wounded man by the collar, hauling him up to his feet.

"What the hell is going on out there!?"

"Sir, we're being overrun! Most of our men are scattered throughout the building and there's CT forces pouring everywhere! Plus I found Deckard...his...his neck was broken, his head nearly wrenched off! There's some kind of strong lunatic loose in here sir!" babbled the bloodied man as he clutched the commander's flak vest.

"Pull yourself together comrade!" shouted the commander. Turning to his men, he ordered, "Everyone make sure you're ready to go!"

Andrew Williams, still under his desk thinks up a plan. Maybe someone can help him if he says something over the P.A. system.

"Hello? This is Andrew Williams of Sliponia. I'm trapped in my office, and I need help! Someone help me please! I hear nothing but either complete silence or total chaos!"

Andrew puts the phone down and waits for some sort of response.

REPEAT: OOC: Someone who wants to rescue this diplomat TG me and we'll figure something out.

'Hellfire an' brimstone, this fella's nuts. Better pull his ass outta the fire before those commie bastards roll in an' take him away...' Dekker hoped he'd get paid well for this...

A number of tactical operatives waited outside in a holding pattern near the rear service entrance. Dressed in black coveralls with black Kevlar flack jackets and kneepads covered vital areas, they aimed their tactical weapons across the dark alley, keeping their eyes on the service door.

The door had been blown off its hinges by a well-aimed shot from an M-79 grenade launcher and the corpses of several DCA terrorists lay on the cold concrete in spreading pools of crimson fluid. Dropped AK-74's littered the ground, sparkling in the light from the streetlamps overhead.

"Command to Delta Four," crackled the commander's headset. Lowering his MP5-SD5, the commander thumbed his throat mike. "This is Delta Four. Go ahead command."

"Delta Four, change of objective. Your new objective is to retrieve the Sliponian ambassador from his office. It is suspected he is being held hostage by DCA forces in order to weaken ties between the Driddish and the Sliponian governments. You are ordered to rescue the ambassador at all costs."

"Roger. Delta Four out," muttered the commander. Raising his H&K submachine gun, he waved his team forward into the building...

Andrew Williams while still in his office recieves a phone call from Sliponian President Jesse Ross.

Ross: "Well Andrew, how are you holding up?"

Williams: "How am I supposed to be holding up? I'm a hostage!"

Ross: "Okay, well don't worry about it too much. I've just been given word that forces from South Dalania are working there way to free you."

Williams: "Really? That's great news!"

Ross: "Just keep your voice down, and watch the security camera so that you can see when the Dalanian forces are near."

"Watch my six!" shouted the team leader as he bolted in. A burst of Kalashnikov fire slammed into the wall above his head as he dropped to his knees, returning a hail of .9mm SMG fire in the direction of the shooter. Stitching the burst across the DCA trooper's knees, he watched as the man screamed and crumpled to the ground, gouts of blood pumping from his ruined joints.

Black flak-jacket wearing commandos, with the acronym SDFA printed on their jackets in yellow lettering rushed through the building. All were armed with a variety of weapons, mostly submachine guns or light rifles. Two were armed with the compact M4A1 carbine, one carried a lightweight G-36C assault weapon and two others were armed with Mossberg .12 gauge pump action shotguns. The remainder of the troopers were armed with H&K .9mm submachine guns.

"Command to Delta Four. The ambassador's office is right ahead."

"Roger! Delta Four out!"

In Ambassador Williams' office he can hear the noise from outside. He makes a call back to Pres. Ross.

Williams: "I think someone is getting close, but I'm not sure who."

Ross: "My guess would be that is is the S. Dalanian forces."

Williams: "Do you think I'll make it out alive?"

Ross: "Of course you'll make it out alive, the Dalanian forces have assured me that they'll get you out of the building. And you know what?"

Williams: "What?"

Ross: "When this is all over with, I'll pull you from your post for a little while and as the President of Tappee visits, you'll be there with us."

Williams: "Thank you, sir!"

Ross: "No, thank you for all you hard work and dedication to our nation. Now just sit tight-We're all praying for you."

Williams: "Thank you-Will you stay on the line a little longer with me?"

Ross: "Certainly, Andrew."

Tavish watches the entry of the new troops on the security monitors.

"The wee boys want to play do they? We'll play with 'em..."

Tavish punches a few buttons on the instrament pannel, acticvating the ceiling-mounted defensive turrets in the hallway. .223 rounds fill the narrow space, cutting into the SD entry team.

Tavish grins in sadistic amusement.

Back in the hallway...

Jace cuffs the Trasian, field stripping his luger.[i/]

[i]He makes a few quick hand signals, and the SWAT team moves forward, sweeping the hallways, and shouting 'Clear!' periodically.

OOC: S. Danalia, I'll excuse the interference of your nation's military this time. Next time clear it with the Driddish government, there's already an entry team inside.