NationStates Jolt Archive

Transnapa City
Transnapastain

”What else do you have for me, General?” asked Grand Executer Alexander Simon, sitting at the head of the conference table.

“Sir, to highlight the details of my report. Reports from the ISA in Kaukolastan are regular, there up to something, we don’t know what, but do we ever-“ started General Davis

“I hope the “Inevitable Opps Agency” isn’t planning something that’s going to blow up, literally, inside our nation, again.” Stated, newly appointed, Supreme Commander Dorsa.”

The table laughed, not quite a humorous laugh, for, after the last incident when the ISA “oppsed”, over 10,000 Transnapastaini citizens had been killed, and the entire town of Maylor being burnt to ashes.

“Yes, thank you, Dorsa, anyways, Nailiak NIS reports no unusual activity, some illegal logging actions”, more snickers, ” The normal half sober reports from the HSB in Armed Lumberjacks, and VISS in The Most Serene Republic of The Volga says alls quiet too. So, to sum up, sir, everything is pretty normal.” concluded General Davis

“Is there anything else, sir?” he asked

“Yes, what of this new nations, Nova Hope, to the south of us, what of them?” asked the Grand Executer

“Ummm…” Davis paused as the called up the proper file, “Smaller nation to our southern border, mostly mountains, some plentiful farmland on the eastern side, and desert to the south. Roughly the size of Australia, we sent a Scorpion team, Captain Kacy’s, to train their forces on the M-8, they are still there. Why, sir?”

“I think it only fitting we welcome our new ally, and throw a Directorate Wide party, giving Nova Hope’s administration the chance to speak with the various administrations from the region, has any other nation done this for him yet, General?” asked Alexander

Davis rolled his eyes behind the laptop, the Executer was becoming more and more unstable, forgetting things, asking odd questions, he may need to be replaced soon…”No sir, if they had, I’m sure we would have been invited.”

“Good!, then, let it be done, send the word out to every Directorate Nation, We will hold the party, here in Transnapa city, in Chancellor Park, the OIS will, of course, provide security.”

Davis nodded, “As always…sir”
“Good! Splendid, it will be a night to remember. If there’s nothing else, dismissed!”

The officers quickly filed out of the room

“Sir?” asked Lieutenant General Jennings, head of Transnapastain’s Air Fleet, the 2nd most important branch of the military, next to the OIS, “Whets wrong with the Executer, he’s…not well, is he?”

“I don’t know…it doesn’t seem like it….but I’m slightly worried, with the way he’s forgetting, and the odd things he’s saying, I’m wondering if he’s beginning to develop some kind of mental condition, or worse, if he’s dying.

They continued down the hallway towards Generals Davis’s officer here in the palace, he had one such office in every OIS HQ building in the nation, he punched a key code into the keypad, the door clicked open and they entered.

He walked around behind the desk; she stood at attention in front of it.

“Sit down, general, speak your mind.” Said Davis, lighting a cigar, he rarely enjoyed cigars, normally only when he was stressed.

“Sir, with respect, if we have a leader who is becoming weak-minded, how will that represent our nation, maybe, sir, its time we…” she trailed off

He knew what she meant, he wasn’t angry, that was the job of the OIS, state security, and, sometimes, ensuring the security of the State meant making sure someone capable, or who could be manipulated, was running it.

He looked at her, not a glare, but a stare with an edge to it.

“Do you remember the Maylor incident?” he asked

She looked at him, puzzled, “Yes sir, I ordered the fire-bombing operations in the city, but it was needed sir, we-“

Davis cut her off “General, we aren’t questioning your tactic, you did what needed to be done, you were cleared of charges, that’s not the point. After Maylor, the people were stunned, over 10,00 dead in 30 minutes, all because of Blade. They needed someone to putt hem back on course. When Grand Executer Simon founded the CGW (Church of God’s Will) over 50% of the population of the nation flocked to join, and, since then we have almost 100%, non-enforced, just high encouraged, membership. When, if, the Grand Executer dies, the population is going to mourn very heavily. Now, consider this. Alexander dies in a terrorist attack, we haven’t had any terrorist attacks since the Volgan War. No one is going to believe it, in the very least, the OIS will lose credibility, and the next Executer may attempt to punish us, to please the people. That doesn’t mean much to you, but it means a hell of a lot to me. At the very worst, its going to end up in a massive uprising, and someone will blame the OIS, for not stopping it, or for doing it ourselves. That means, more fire bombings, for you, General, and I know you don’t want that. So, if we assassinate the Executer, we quite possibly doom ourselves to an uprising, and we cant have that.

“Yes sir, but what if he does something stupid? What if he orders us into a war with someone like Automagfreak, or pisses off some larger nation?"

“Fear not, General, who really runs this nation? When the time is right, we will rectify this situation”

“Yes sir.” she said, she didn’t want to say it, no one wanted to admit it, but they all knew it was true. There’s a difference between “Head of State” and “Head of Government”, Simon may be Head of State, but he who controlled the OIS was head of Government.

To the nations of:
Kaukolastan, Nailiak, Volga, Darknessland, Armed Lumberjacks, Der Further Dyszel, Cottenmouth, Kahlor, Jossalin, Allison Blair, Nova Hope, Abeokuta, Tuesday Heights

You are all invited to the welcome reception of Nova Hope to the Directorate, security will be provide, but personal guards are, of course allowed, thank you

OOC: If i missed any allies, or any nations on good terms with Nova Hope or myself, want to come, just let me know

Warning

This is not as it seems, there will be a terrorist attack on the party, no no one other the people selected to die (decided and agreed upon OOC) will be harmed. This is the begining of a change for Transnapastain

tag for later (busy)

Bump

....tag....

After word of the Directorate party was sent, a pirate radio transmission was intercepted by the NIS (Nailiak Internal Security)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Decoding Pirate Transmission
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Encryption Alpha Tango Bravo
Status: Decoded
Begin source trace routine
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Playing transmission: Standby
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...orate party? This is perfe...
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Transmission lost: Standby
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Reestablishing
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...to kill ...napast... religous lead...
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Transmission lost: Standby
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Reestablishment failure: Transmission lost.
Trace partial failure: Source Nailiak
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Transmission saved in archive
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The communications specialist turns to his commanding officer. "Sir, should I report this to Transnapastain?"

The officer stroked his chin. "No. Inform the chancellor we have a terrorist faction in our nation."

"..But sir, if.."

The officer cut him off. "That's an order!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

“Well Tatsui, what do you think?” The President sipped at his Columbian coffee, he was trying to buy more for it, let people see him drinking it because, and with the recent action of ‘White Griffin’ it helped his image. The Prime Minister took the nonchalant president in with his eyes, appraised his position, then answered in a well guarded voice.
“I think they are looking for one delegate sir, and constitutionally the President has more power, you could go.” The president chuckled. Tatsui always was a political animal, never a brash statement until he could see the bottom of the pond.
“No Tatsui I think you should go. You’ll protect our interests and I think that your political philosophies are a bit closer to theirs. You can debrief me this time. Take a squad of Black Thrones, just incase. As long as they’re there everything they see will be recorded, *smirk* for posterity.”
“Are you sure it won’t be better for you to go? You’re the one who signed off on this alliance.”
“And you’re the more distrusting of the two of us, you’d be for the best. Now go, make your arrangements.”

Official Reply

I the Prime Minister Tatsui Isobe will be attending this gala event. I will be bringing an unspecified contingent of armed guards for the protection of my office, namely me. Please forward specifics on country entry, dress code etc. all pertinent info.

"Hey, party time!" Darius declared, slamming back the energy drink. He shook his head, twitching slightly from the rush, "Huzzah! That's good shit. Wow..." he shook his head again. "Anywho, party to welcome Nova Hope into the Directorate, formal and all that." He stated to Sub-Director Phaellan. "The Director wants to know if you can attend. He's a little busy with the Roanian situation to go personally, and he wants you to go as his rep."

David Phaellan looked out the window of his Isis office, looking down upon the volcanic waste and military facilities of this stronghold in the sea. "You really think they'll take kindly to the DARPA chief? The guy who oversaw Blade?"

"It's all buried, SD." Darius took another swig and shuddered again. "Besides, I'm going as well, and I'll just shoot anyone who-"

"No, stop talking about shooting our allies." Phaellan scolded. "It's not all about guns and balls, you know."

"But I like guns." he paused. "Maybe I can hit on chicks, too." He grinned deviously, letting Phaellan know that he was just shooting for a reaction.

The older man was about to launch into a spiel when he saw the grin, and his jaw snapped shut. "Why can't you be normal? Like the other agents?"

"Cause the I'm the Director's personal wet-works man. No one normal can do that." Darius was suddenly dead serious. "So, we're going?"

"Of course. Myself, some professional diplomats to do the yapping, and you and your squad to provide security."

"Goody." Darius couldn't wait to show off the latest weapons from Sag to his companions in the other intelligence agents. The Darius Armaments Roadshow. Tell a buddy, bring a friend. He took a final gulp, and shivered. "Damn good stuff."

OOC: The party post will be made in 1 day’s time

IC:

“Sir…?” asked an aide; The Executer had drifted off, again

“Huh, what, who are you, guards!! Guards!” yelled Alexander Simon

At his beckon, two Uniformed OIS officers rushed into the room, and un-slung their M-8 rifles. They looked around the room…. wondering why, for the tenith time in two hours, they we’re being called in.

“Whats the problem, Executer?” asked the guard

Simon looked up at him…confused “Did I call for you?” he asked, questionaly

The guard sighed, “No sir, we were making sure you were alright, we’ll be going now.” He said

Simon regarded him oddly “John, My son, is that you?”

The guard looked bewildered, “Umm, sir?” and he turned to leave

“Its his brain, something inside him snapped he cant remember anything, gets disoriented…confused he-“ the aide stopped talking, he realized he said too much

“I see,” said the guard

The aide sighed as well and left the office…. the Executer feel over on his desk again drooling…”

Later That day

“Yes sir, that’s right, he’s got some sort of mind disorder, its affecting his judgment, he called for the guards a total of 40 times today, for no reason, he cant recognize anyone.”
Reported the guard

“I see, his last medical exam was last week….why isn’t this being announced, it says here he’s perfectly healthy?” asked General Davis

“Maybe the he’s ordered the docs to be quiet, sir?” asked the guard

“Maybe, find out for me, operative. OIS out”

Somewhere in Nailiak at a friendly Transnapastaini OIS station...

"Ok, you got the plan down now? Or will I have to kill you?" A large man dress in green and black camo combat armour, squatting behind some shrubbery, asked his squad mate who doned a green and brown camo combat armour.

"No, no I got it. We raid the place, silenced ofcourse, seize the radio an.." A hand came from nowhere and smacked against his face. The large man was giving him a nasty look.

"I didn't ask for a friggen rundown of the plan. Moron, this is a listening post. They got wires all over the place." The man rubbed his hand. "Damn boy, put some meat on them bones." His squad mate chuckled and was smacked again. "Now come on, lets move. Reports indicate there are only six stationed here. If any heavies appear inside, f*** silenced and blow 'em to pieces." He attached the silencer to the barrle of his standard issue M8 and signaled the boy to take point.

In compliance with NHS (Nailiak Hospitality Stature) the listening post had Nailiak issue turrets which were easily circumvented with a few passcodes. The boy came to the OIS listening outpost's front door and signaled for his squad mate to come up. The man reached the front door, opposite to the boy, and pointed up at a camera. The boy proceeded to shoot the camera and the man smiled. The front door suddenly shot open and the man signaled the boy to attack on three. He counted silently with his lips.
One... Two... Three!

Both spun around from the sides of the doorway and opened fire inside the outpost. Gaurd after gaurd dropped to the floor, creating a large pool of blood which streamed out the door and back down the hallway inside the outpost. The man's clip droped from his M8 and he signaled the boy to cease fire. The man spun around to the side of the door and reloaded his weapon. The boy still stood infront of the door, watching for any signs of movement. The man spun around and covered the door while the boy hid and reloaded.

The man moved slowly inside the door way. The boy follow close behind, counting the number of bodies. He quietly muttered the number six and breathed a sign of relief. The man held his hand up in a fist and the boy stopped dead in his tracks. The man slammed himself up against the left side of the corridor and peaked around the corner. Bullets ricochetted off the corner and he pulled his head back. He looked at the boy. "Two heavies. They look like those Scorpion troopers. Switch to grenades. You go low and wide and Ill go high. Aim high, they have a titanium table overturned and are using it for cover. Ill fire first to draw their fire, then you roll out and fire." The boy nodded in acknowledgement.

The boy set himself low to the ground and nodded ready. The man spun around the corner and fired his grenade launcher. The two men in black trenchcoats ducked behind the overturned table and the grenade flew harmlessly past them and expolded on a wall five feet behind them. The shrapnel didnt phase them. The boy then rolled around the corner and positioned himself ready to fire. As the two troopers jumped up to return fire, the boy launched his grenade, scrambled to his feet and jumped back to safety. The left trooper brought his M8 to bear but was not fast enough. The boys grenade made contact with the troopers face and exploded. As his body flew backwards away from the overturned table, his muscles spazmed causing his grenade launcher to fire. A grenade flew directly into the living troopers back, sending him flying forward, over the table, and skidding across the floor until he finally smacked into the wall at the corner of the corridor.

The man and the boy waited a few minutes. The man peered around the corner again. Nothing was there except a headless trenchcoat and a pool of blood. They explored the rest of the outpost and found no other living beings. "Ok boy. Go move the bodies into the bathroom and mop up the blood before it dries. Ill contact "HQ" and order us some OIS uniforms." The boy sighed in annoyment and shuffled away.

"I always get body detail. Oh well, maybe they have some nice watches or something I can steal."

*tag*

Will post as soon as I get the time to make a good post.

:wink:

OIS Listening Post 012647
Nailiak, Directorate Friendly nation

…”I’ll see your bet, and ill raise ya 10, ass.” Said Sergeant Jeri

“Yea, okay Sarge, just like your phallic size, we know you’re bluffing, see ten and call.” Replied Corporal Dickson

Sarge threw down his cards, ranting “You mother…” and a strung of cussing ensued that would bring tears to naval mans eyes, the Corporal sat through it all, used to this kind of display, laughing, which enraged the Sergeant more. He began ranting more, insulting the Corporals sexual lifestyle, family, and anything else he could think of

“Would you two shut the hell up?” shouted an OIS Operative seated at a command console. “Christ, this is a listening post and, with you to morons bickering, I CAN'T HEAR SHIT, NOW SHUT THE HELL UP!

“Yes Operative.” said both me quickly, having no will to die today

“Thank you….” Said the Operative

“Hey, boos?” asked another Op, monitoring a screen

“What?” asked the other Op angrily.

“There’s some commandos-like soldiers outside, no unit markings, outside, their, well, the sound sensor heard one of them talking about assaulting the base…what the, it sounds like one of them just smacked the other….bitching about wires…..another smack….movement” replied the Op

“I have contacts on the security cameras, several Commando units, carrying M-8’s, advancing on the station.” said another Op

The 1st Operative looked around. “Its most likely just some Nailiak Spec For giving us a hard time, or practicing clearing operations…get ready to get hit with paintballs.” He said with a sigh, one of these days, he was going to have a shipment of paint M-8’s sent here to counter them.

The Sergeant looked at the Corporal and whispered “Come on, this isn’t right, we need to get the armor.” they departed the room

“Here they come, at the door, holy shit, they're shooting the door....those aint paintballs!"

BOOM

The troopers poured into the building, firing, the guards didn’t get to their guns fast enough; the operatives were mowed down in seconds

The troopers moved into barracks room, where they encountered the town Scorpion with barrowed Kaukolastani VIPER armor. Who put up a good fight, but, eat grenades in the face and were knocked out of the fight.

Just before be died, the OIS operative, crawling towards the radio, popped a disc out of a security monitor, and hid it on his person, he thought to himself….like hell those were paintballs…. he thought before he died

The Capital city, Transnapa, is always busy at night. Being more of a cultural center than a working town, very little industry clogged up what was the last remaining scenic area of the nation. Bureaucrats, Military officers, members of the clergy, and ranking OIS officers, the aristocratic elite in the nation resided in Transnapa.

Thus, the city was one of the most ornate and beautiful in the nation, maybe even in the Directorate. Gardens, ornate buildings, foutains, canals, and what may be the last remaining, undeveloped, usable beach in the region.

In the Capital Building, Grand Executer Alexander Simon I, leader of Transnapastain and of the Church of God’s Will. His mind wasn’t working for him like it used to. As he spaced out, his mind would wonder, he’d forget where he was, what he was doing, who his friends were.

The had ordered the party moved from Chancellor Park to the Capital Building. It would be held in the Grand Room, which had an adjoining courtyard, and a large skylight above it. A large marble fountain situated in the middle. A Balcony rimmed the outer edge of the room. Several archways lined the east wall, and led out onto a patio, and into a courtyard, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges, one walkway led back into the shrubs, and to a memorial garden for Dredderick Main, the man credited for making Transnapastain what it is today, the walking was lined with jumping fountains.

Security was going to be as tight as possible. Armed guards would check the ID’s of the incoming dignitaries. Guards would patrol the outer edge of the compound. Inside, a few OIS Operatives would be inserted for protection. Officers would be permitted to carry a sidearm.

OOC: You all may begin arriving whenever you like, ill give until this time tomorrow until we begin

Damn Double

The limousine rolled to a stop, the tires crushing the pieces of gravel on the driveway. Three more pulled in behind it, with a smaller in the center. The back doors opened on the diamond perimeter, and ISA Operatives, in full tailored suits, stepped out, occasionally touching their earpieces, adjusting their ties, or straightening their sunglasses (yes, even at night). They nodded to the Transnapastaini guards and formed a small perimeter around the black vehicle, their high powered Sag weapons at ready.

The last man to emerge from the front vehicle was Darius, stepping confidently forward, removing his sunglasses and smiling coolly. He stretched slightly, and as he moved, his suit bulged at varying places and points, hinting to the small armory he carried. He glanced from the swaying moonlit trees to the gleam of lights on cobblestone roads and marble fronts. The varying flags hung from the neoclassical architecture, the banners of the varying nations flapping against the flaring breeze, while gas fed torches lit the sides. Guards patrolled the marble balconies and columns, all cast in the pale moonlit glow. Darius turned to the limousine again, and placed his glasses back in place, setting them to thermal. "Clear the way." he stated authoritatively, as the escorts pulled away.

From the center vehicle, Sub-Director Phaellan and his wife emerged, with a single ISA man in the front seat. The SD took his wife's arm and walked forward. Phaellan wore an even more expensive suit than the others, with no sunglasses, while his wife wore a low cut red dress and stiletto heels. As they were escorted into the building, Darius gave one last tap onto his earpiece. He sub-vocalized, transmitting from the microphone in his throat, "Snipers, fall out, VIPER team, stand ready. Stay low, and assist the OIS if needed. No worries tonight, people, this is a party." He gave a thumb up into the night sky, and a silenced chopper rotated away, followed by a heat trail high in the sky.

Darius turned to the building, walking calmly into the Great Hall. He touched the Sag Commando under his vest, and the Needler on each hip. He was overkill as security chief, but the ISA was sending only the best to this party. He grinned and entered the complex, throwing a salute to the Transnapastaini guards. "Nice night, isn't it?" He tapped his glasses, and the thermal filters deactivated.

With that, he joined the party. The doors slammed behind him, sending ripples into the banners and flickers into the torches.

At the seized Transnapastaini listening outpost the radio crackles to life and broadcasts a harsh voice

“Attention outpost 012647. Start your status transmission.” Static hissed from the radio speaker.

The boy stood in horror, staring at the radio. “Jack! Jack! Get your ass in here! We got a problem!” The boy turned to run out of the radio room but ran into a solid object which knocked him down. Jack stepped over the boy and sat down at the radio desk. He slammed his fists down on the desk in anger.

“I should have known they had a status check. Gah!” He bangs his head on the table several times. The jolting causes the table’s drawer to roll open exposing a sticky note with the words “Status Code” written on it. He smacks his forehead with his hand and scoffs at the stupidity of the OIS.

“Attention outpost 012647, I repeat: Start your status transmission.” The radio hissed static once again. Jack picked up the microphone and read the status code to the operator then apologized and gave a long story about some wild animal having chewed the antenna wires.

“Roger that outpost 012647. Do you require any assistance with the wiring?” The operator bought his story.

“Negative, negative. We have some spare cabling here. We’ll get working on the wiring now. Outpost 012647 out.” Jack turned the radio off before the operator had the chance to respond. Jack stood up from the desk and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. He turned around and looked at the boy. “Harvey, get that damn body out of here! It’s starting to smell.

Harvey was busy searching the body Jack was talking about. He looked up at Jack and held out a small square chip. “I think this is a memory tape. It might have surveillance footage. You wanna check it out?” Jack reached down and snatched the chip from his hand and sat back down at the radio desk.

Jack spun his chair around to face the video screens and surveillance equipment. He popped the chip in the reader and loaded the most recent video data. Sure enough, it was footage oh him and Harvey assaulting the outpost. Jack ejected the chip and threw it on the ground. He picked his M8 up from off the floor then stood up. He raised his rifle and shot the chip once. Pieces scattered all around the floor but a large portion remained intact. He proceeded to smash the remains with his left boot. “Leave no witnesses.”

“But what if they got a message out?” Harvey’s voice was shaky.

“We would have been swarmed by now. Plus they wouldn’t have bothered to do a status report.” Jack stood up again and faced Harvey. “Get that damn body out of here! The rest of the force will arrive shortly. Then the uniforms will arrive and we depart for the party and take care of business.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll get on it” Harvey mutters.

Meanwhile, back at Nailiak's capital city of Nailiak City. Hank Moore, Nailiak's delegate, is running late and hasn't left his mansion for the airport.

"With all due respect sir, you're going to be late! The party has already started!"

A medium build man with short brown hair and green eyes stands before a mirror, adjusting his bow tie. "I hate these formal events. A man of my stature shouldn't have to wear such rediculous items as a bow tie." He yanks the bow tie off in disgust and throws it on the floor. "Screw it! Lets go!" He turns to his young aide, a female who is in her mid twenties. She quickly picks up the bow tie and places it in her pocket. "Lynsi, lets go!" He yells to his aide.

"Yes, Mr. Moore." She runs up next to Hank and he links her arm in his. She blushes slightly and they leave the room. Met with armed escorts, the two make thier way to the limo which will take the to the airport. Upon reaching the limo, Lynsi notices an extra limo parked behind the lead limo. "Is there another delegate coming with us, Mr. Moore?" Lynsi looks up at him hoping to meet with his eyes, but he keeps his eyes forward.

"That limo is for the armed gaurds. I do not like to be crowded by them. Not only do they get thier own limo, but they will fly seperately aswell." His eyes dart back and forth from side to side as if he is expecting someone to sneak up on him. Lynsi becomes worried by his darting eyes.

"What is it Mr. Moore?" She asks with a hint of fear in her voice.

"I feel something is amiss here. I cant explain why or what. Something just isnt right." He turns his head and meets her eyes. Her vibrant blue eyes always made his heart melt but he tried so hard to avoid showing it. "There is nothing to fear, my dear. We are safe." He let a small smile creep across his face, but it quickly faded as the driver came around the limo to open the door for him and Lynsi. Lynsi smiled and blushed then stepped into the limo. Hank stood outside the door for a moment, surveying the area before he stepped into the limo. Why do I get the feeling tonight will be a disaster? It's tearing me up inside, but I have nothing to be afraid of. This is a simple welcoming party for the Nation of Nova.

The entire ride to the airport was awkward. Hank kept his attention on the outside world. Lynsi was feeling a little uncomfortable and couldnt find anything to break the silence. She kept wondering what he was thinking but she couldnt amass the courage to ask him. She knew he was a secretive person and would never tell her to begin with. He so secretive, he didnt even want the world to know her and him were together. He claims its a security issue and that she may become a target of terrorist factions, but sometimes she wondered if he was afraid of the world finding out he was dating a lowly aide. She sat across from him in the limo and could see the outside lights dancing across his eyes. The more she stared at his eyes, the more she drifted into thought about how much she adored him.

Hank could feel himself being stared at. It was one of the many little things that made him feel uncomfortable. "Why do you insist on staring at me?" Lynsi snapped out of her gaze and quickly swung her head to look outside the limo.

The rest of the limo ride to the airport was quiet. Neither spoke a word nor so much as looked at each other. Even when they reached the airport and boarded their plane, not a word was said between the two.

Kaukolastan was the 1st to arrive

The OIS guards in the buildings surrounding the area reported that a motorcade bearing Kaukolastani flags was inbound. The guards on the perimeter nodded back to the ISA operatives, many of them recognizing friends from conventions and seminars past.

Colonel Fires, wearing a black suit, with a Transnapastaini flag lapel pin on his right, the OIS symbol, a simple 8 pointed star surrounded by a circle.. On his cap, he wore his Colonel’s insignia, a full bird (Imperial not American eagle). He had his service USP9 holstered in a black leader hostler with cover flap on his right hip. He looked down at the sniper lying prone with his M-24, watching the incoming motorcade.

“Confirm ID’s” said Fires, as he removed a small set of electronic binoculars from his pocket. The sniper set his weapon top safe, announced “1-1, offline” through the secure VHF radio. Fires centered his binoculars on the 1st man, they ran through the different ISA guards, Fires called out the names, and what, if any, weapons they were carrying, and the Sniper confirmed.

“Okay, next we got, oh Lord” said Fires. The man he was centering on was stepping out of a limo, and taking of his sunglasses, Fires snapped a picture. The HUD came to life. “Wow, it’s Darious, and, good Lord, he’s armed.,” said Fires.

“Confirmed.”

The sniper moved on. “Lastly we have, Sub-Director Phaellan, DARPA, and wife.” He said

“Yes…Phaellan.” Said Fires

He’s the man who found out that Kaukolastani made the Blade, worse, it was his department that made it… though he had nothing to do with it personally, it wasn’t his fault… thought Fires

“Sir…?” the sniper prompted

“Oh, yes, confirmed.” He said

“I’d better get back down there, you, be alert, there shouldn’t be anything wrong, but, just in case.” Said Fires

“Yes sir.” The Sniper clicked his safety off and said “1-1, online.” over the earpiece. Fires removed his earpiece, tonight, security was left to someone else, tonight, he was here to relax and enjoy himself.

As he walked back through the Capital building, using his OIS Override Card to raise the blast shutters securing the Capital from the guests, his cell phone rang

“Who the hell could that be?” he thought

“Sir, this is Captain Grim, OIS Customs at Transnapa Airport, sir, we’ve received word form the Nailiak delegation, Hank Moore and his escort, plus an unidentified number of guards are leaving shortly and should arrive within an hour and a half.” The man said

“So nice of the tree-lovers to call ahead.” Said Fires, “Thank you, Captain.” He disconnected

The phone rang again

“For the love of God!” he shouted into the empty corridors.

“Sir, this is Captain Johnson, Command, we got a, umm, delayed response form OIS outpost 016247, it took two prompts to get them to respond, the tech at the console reported some damage to the wiring, some kind of animal, but did not request assistance with the maintenance.”

Fires sighed, did this guy seem to suspect that something could be wrong with a listening post inside the Directorate, and inside of Nailiak, there close ally. Terrorists hitting an OIS instillation on friendly soil, that’s about the same chance as Kaukolastan ever reverting back slings and arrows. he though with amusement

“I’m sure everything is fine, don’t worry about it.” He said

“Yes sir.”

He disconnected and finally returned to the party. He approached General Davis, who was in close conversation with Generals Jennings and Hargrove.

“Ah, hello Colonel.” said Jennings, smiling at him. When Fires had been in the Air Fleet, as a pilot, he had served under General Jennings when she commanded Shiner Air Fleet Base. She was a fair woman, highly intelligent and very likeable.

“Hello Generals.” He said offering a salute.

The threesome returned the salute, and Hargrove and Jennings withdrew a few steps.

“Sir, the Nailiak delegation will be here shortly, Kaukolastan has arrived. ID’s confirmed, sir…Phaellan is with them.” Said Fires

“I see, well, remember, it wasn’t his fault, don’t hold it against him.” General Davis pointed to a youngish man, wearing an ISA uniform, about 10 meters away, near the fountain, attempting to talk tot his very beautiful young lady in a shimmering black dress that didn’t leave much to imagine. “Who is he, he seems familiar, and whose his lady friend?” asked Davis

“Ah, that’s Darious, one of their best Operatives, we’re told. He’s seen a lot of action on that little, back-assword island north of Kaukolastan a while ago, now, he participated in the Migest operation.” replied Fires.

“I see. Well, Colonel, the guests are arriving, so, go mingle, have a good time tonight, the Executer should be here any time now…”

No sooner as he said it then Vice Executer Karin, the woman who held the most power in the civilian government, and was a shoe in for the Grand Executer position when Alexander died, steppe dup to a podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Grand Executer will be arriving soon.”

With that, the band began to play the nations national anthem.

Two OIS security officers opened the grand oak doors on the far side, at the top of the circular marble stairway. Alexander Simon strode through them, looking healthier than he had in ages. He descended the stairs and made his way to the chair, positioned near the fountain, and a raised dais.

“Thank you all for coming.” He said. “Tonight, we celebrate the alliance formed between us and the glorious nation of Kaukolastan!”

The dignitaries from Kaukolastan heads shot up, General Davis slapped his face with his hand, and an aide rushed to Alexander’s side to correct him.

“Ah, correction, we are here to celebrate the alliances forged between the nation of Nova Hope and the Directions! another whisper, “The Directorate!”

Jennings came over to General Davis. “Sir, I’m serious, something needs to be done. Soon!” she whispered into his ear.

“Yes, but not yet, and not here, for God sake, and what do you want me to do? Have a sniper fire through he skylight? Walk up to him and shoot him? Now is not the time!” he whispered back, he was tired of the Air Fleet General trying tot ell him how to do his job. “Stick to planning bombing campaigns, General, and leave the subterfuge to me.

“Yes sir.” She said and turned away.

Message to Transnapastainian air control.

“We are bringing the Prime Minister in for a formal get together and request flight path.”
The Transnapastainian air traffic control cleared a specific flight path for the PM jet after only a moment of silence. The SR-71 Blackbird was literally whistling at this speed. Nearing mach 3 the Prime Minister could only think to himself I will never be late to one of these friggen things again I think I’m going to be sick at 3,500 km/h

The entire flight took less than two hours and by the end of it Prime Minister Isobe was fairly green around the gills. Hopping into the motorcade to hurl his guts out in private Tatsui began to arrange himself in the finest suit offered in Nova Hope. Donning more than 3K credits in apparel as well as injecting his sub dermal microphone the PM freshened himself up to the point where no one would notice that’d he’d emptied himself earlier. The motorcade drove into the city from the airport trailed by a large van. When the limo pulled up to the event the van pulled into the alley to observe. A radio signal was then broadcast on the OIS frequency for this night.
“Black Thrones in position, going quiet.”

With the valet at the door the Prime Minister checked himself one last time before plastering a smile to his face and then stepping out of the limo. Tailed by a solitary man with black glasses and an earpiece Tatsui entered the ballroom to see a very hushed uncomfortable looking group already mingling. Attempting to find an in somewhere Tatsui listened politely, apparently the Grand Executor made a bit of a snafu with his intro. Well I suppose I should present my gracious host with our, er my, present. walking up towards the Grand Executer, or an aide, he looked for an appropriate way to give his thank you gift contained in his inside breast pocket.

Fire’s earpiece beeped at the same time Davis’ did.

Both men listened to the transmission

“Black Thorns in position, going quiet.”

“Rodger Black Thrones, this is OIS Major Buford, head of security for the night. We read you five by, this ought to be a quiet one. If you, umm, see some big hulking things, that’s just Kaukolastan’s VIPER’s”

“Colonel this is S-1-1 reporting in, we have visual contact on the incoming Nova hope motorcade. We have two; repeat, two, people emerging form the limo. They show as Prime Minister Tatsui, and one escort, male, guard, armed.

“This is S-1-2, copy that, we have confirmation, the Nova Hope delegation is legit. S-1-2, out”

“S-1-1 out.”

Fires watched as the man entered the room, he looked like he was surveying the crowd, trying to find himself a nitch, so he could slip ion and begin conversation. Word of the Grand Executers screw-up was circulating around, and, worse, someone had alerted the local pres to the party. So, television camera crews from around the Directorate had managed to get invitations. Someone didn’t have enough foresight to ban cameras, and the press….someone’s gonna die for this one. thought Fires.

The PM from Nova Hope approached the Grand Executer…oh shit, oh shit…this is gonna be bad… he thought.

General Davis saw it, but, too late, he was there, there was no stopping him discretely now…

“Ah, hello, you must be the Delegate from Armed Lumberjacks!” Exclaimed Grand Executer Simon

shit…. thought Fires

An aide stepped up.

“Ah, my mistake, from Nova Hope! Welcome, we’re glad you decided to form an alliance with his great region, allow me to introduce myself, I am….I am…” his eyes glazed over…his tongue dropped form his mouth.

The officers and politicians gathered staring blankly at this grand display of stupidity.

“This is the biggest diplomatic FUBAR since….I don’t think anything has ever been this bad, sir.” Said Colonel Fires to General Davis, with Supreme Commander Dorsa and Generals Jennings and Reynolds nodding in agreement.

“Something must be done” grumbled Jennings,

Davis seriously considered hitting her “Shut up, something will be done, but not tonight! Now is not the time, we need proper planning and execution, now shut up, Jennings, or do you want to be demoted?” he snapped

“Sir, no sir!” she said

The Grand Executer was coming around now. “Ah, yes Nova Hope, our long time ally,” more snickers, “Thank you for coming.” He said

Davis and Fires began to utter the Lord Prayer, and added

“Dear Lord, please get us through this night…. please?!”

Tatsui Isobe didn’t know whether to laugh in the Grand Executer’s face or be insulted. With his usual political couth he mustered his will power flashed Alexander his election winning smile and with all the civility he could muster answered sweetly,
“Well, time is a very fickle thing. I’m glad that the Grand Executer already recognizes this as the long standing alliance and association it will be.” The PM’s aide gave a snort that was silenced by an icy sideways glance.
“I’d like to present you with a token of this administration’s appreciation.” Tatsui reached inside his suit and removed the small case, opening it to allow inspection.
“It’s a pen. The finest in Carbon nano technology Nova Hope has to offer. This pen is nigh indestructible with a strength approaching that of diamonds. This fountain pen has been tested to 92 GPa.” The PM held out the pen allowing the Grand Executer, or an aide, to come forward and accept it.

“We thank you, President,” whisper “Prime Minister!” I’m sure I will make good use of it!” replied Alexander

not in office you wont, old fool, you’ve embarrassed this nation for the last time…after this night, you’re days are numbered. thought Davis.

The party continued, the Transnapastaini delegates hanging their heads in shame, the foreign dignitaries mocked them in secret.

This night could not get worse thought Fires

Not knowing who to really ask about Alexander’s,… strangeness Tatsui made his way over to the Kaukolastanian delegate. As soon as he could get him alone he cleared his throat and pointed his thumb towards Alexander in a discreet motion.
“What’s that about?”

Fires watched The PM walk towards the Kaukolastani Delegate

“Oh shit….he’s gonna ask questions.” He said as he detached himself from the conversation he was in, he made his way towards the SD

He shot a waning look at Phaellan, not one of menace, but one urging him to answer whatever he may have been asked. It was improbable the ISA knew anything about the Grand Executers health, but, the ISA was very good, and seemed to have ears everywhere.

Fires looked back at the Executer, asleep, and then to the Vice Executer, who was trying to bullshit the media, trying to make up some reason for the Executers stupidity. Simon was sleeping, drooling for the camera. Fires cringed.

“So, Prime Minister, Sub-Director Phaellan, nice night isn’t it…maybe you’d enjoy a tour of the courtyard…or, maybe you have any questions concerning our nation….please ask…Im told that the delegation from Nailiak will be here shortly....and don’t ask the obvious question “What’s up with the old fart?”

the awkward silence commenced

Tatsui was a bit startled by the candor of the Transnapastainian and it showed in his face. Recovering quickly has smiled and answered with a guarded voice,
“Yes I understand that the scenery out and abouts here is quite beautiful, I would not mind seeing the courtyard, but perhaps you’d let me mingle a touch while longer?” Tatsui then excused himself and made his way to the punch bowl. Something is up with Alexander, if they don’t want to play ball then we’ll set a rain date.

Stadt des Meeres

The silence of The Dictatorship loomed all around, a terrifying silence the people have come to accept as desolation. The only sound was a low moan from the cold night sky, which issued from the softly lapping waves against the shore.

No one seemed to stir in this desolate wasteland, especially at night. The silence was an unwelcome force, but one dared not to disturb it. It was as if some curse lay customed to those who broke the silence. It was a curse no one opted to risk.

The silence spread throughout the nation, the closer to the capital the more terrifying and deadly. Yes, the silence was deadly, a madding deadly. It drove one to suicide, for the thought of solititude in such a massive wasteland was unbearable.

Amid a strong and powerful structure, a prison located within Stadt des Meeres, sat a small group of people. These people, those who choose to govern what was left of this desolated nation. Der Fuhrer was gone again, it seems the only goal this Dictator choose was to protect The Dictatorship. A laugh had to be made, there was no way one could not laugh at the determinism within in the once strong and unbreakable leadership. Der Fuhrer refusing to allow The Dictatorship to fail, fighting a futile fight to reclaim the lost Depths of Hell. It was pointless....absurd. And Mathias, how far the once reknowned military leader had fallen. The backbone of The Dictatorship was crushed from within, an unpredictable outcome no one ever imagined.

It was within this prison, within the silence of the desolate nation that the new backbone was being created, one that may never be as strong as the leadership between Der Fuhrer and Mathias, but strong enough to support and entire nation, had they choose to rebuild it. The group of people sat, their huddled voices whispering together, for no one spoke above a whisper. There was no need to, the silence carried a whisper like normal conversing.

The unknown and un named voices spoke....

"Yes, we will send one representative."

"Who will ensure that ties are made outside the nation?"

"Yes! Anything else?"

The silence of The Dictatorship.

"So it is agreed that we will send a new representative, one far from the corrupted government?"

The group nodded, but no one spoke.

"Then we adjourn. I will send the representative out this night."

Without a word the group departed.

OOC:
Lengthy I know, I will post the other half later. I am falling asleep right now. Sorry, if this sucks. Sleep is calling my name......

“Sub-Directorate.” Nodded Fires as he walked off, leaving the stunned man, who had begun a question, alone

He tapped his earpiece

“He slipped me, lost him the crowd, sir…reestablishing contact.” He whispered, his IRCD (Internal Radio Communication Device), located in his throat, transmitting his voice by reading not the sound, but the vibrations from his voice box, all OIS deep-cover Ops, Wet-Works Ops, Scorpions, and Senior Officers had one. Some Agents also were equipped with DIER implants (Discrete Inner-Ear Receiver), which stimulates the bone in the inner ear, allowing the sound to be heard only by the person equipped with the DIER. The DIER and IRCD work very well together, though Fires did not have such a device.

“Negative, the cats out of the bag, might as well let the guests talk about it. Forget it, just, try and have a good time, Colonel” replied Davis over the IRCD

“Right.”

Fires wandered off towards the buffet

“Hello.” He said to one of the ISA men, “Darius, right? How are you?”

Bump for the Night,
off to bed

bump

OOC: Moving it back to tomarrow night. Come on people :)

The cold night air whipped around Destiny's body, her tight black dress cutting her figure impeccably. The sound of waves crashing along the shore created a passive sense of security, as she watched the dark water move beneath her. A horrifying silence lay behind her, like a dark ominious forest forwarning doom. She dared not turn around and face the silence, rather, she leaned over the railing and stared into the night, the stars shining above appeared to be like small angels harolding her. She smiled slightly, a painful and remorseful smile. The thought of all The Dictatorship had endured for nothing played at in head. She wished nothing more then to leave here.....leave this terrible silence, experience the world, and mostly importantly to find life.

She sighed as she heaved herself up from the railing. Turning her heel, she found herself face to face with her brother. Her pained voice cried out, "Alex! Damn it Alex, you startled me! Why do you trouble me at such a late time? I want to be left alone."

Alex's voice was quiet and cold, "Sister, I have orders. You are to represent The Dictatorship. No questions. You are to leave immediately."

"Alex! Are you insane? The Dictatorship is dead!"

Alex grunted, as he walked over to the railing, his black uniform blending in with the night. A silence persued, the only sound.....the lapping of the waves. His eyes looked out across the distance, searching for the words to place his thoughts. His cold voice melted into a lament, "I am tired of everyone saying that. Makes it seem like I fought for nothing. Risked my life for no more then a damn casino chip. Well you know what? You're wrong. You're all wrong. Every single one of you......wrong. We still have Stadt des Meeres. We still have allies. We still have hope. No one killed our friends, just us. No one destroyed their land, just ours. No one took their hope, but I am afraid we handed ours to them on a silver platter. Stupid fools. You are so damn blind. You think that this war was game that our soldiers happened to lose. You think that everything was lost just because of some foul ups. You are all a disgrace to the name of Der Fuhrer Dyszel and The Dictatorship. *muttering* I am disgusted to call you my sister when you betray your nation's honor because you cannot see past your narrow mind."

Destiny was shocked, the words lost in her head. Quietly, with tears forming in her eyes. "Alex? I.....its just......*sadly* what's wrong with you?"

His dark green eyes flashed violently as he whipped around to face her, the true dark militant side of him showing. "Me! What's wrong with me! You are. All of you are. I am killing myself to save this nation and you ask me what is wrong with me! Take a look around Destiny! Do you think anyone likes this? Do you think any one of us want to live in this pathetic wasteland any longer? Do you think any of us could tolerate this silence any longer? Have you forgotten what we are capable of producing? SOUND! Humans make sound! And we sit by and remain quiet, and you wonder why it is so God damn silent here. It is fools like you who made our nation this way, not the soldiers, not the enemy.......you. Damn it! I am trying to help our nation and you ask me what is wrong with me........."

Destiny, seizing her brother and enclosing him in her arms, began to cry. "Alex......just stop! I'm sorry! I will go. Please.....just stop."

Alex pulled away roughly. "Then pack your bags. Meet me at the airport in one hour." Without another word he walked away, his shoes echoing off the wood, fading away into the distance.

Destiny sighed and leaned back over the railing. Tears were falling from her eyes into the ocean, just small diminutive drops landing in a vast overwhelming larger body of water. Her voice was full of pain and sorrow as she silently whispered to herself, "He's right....."

An hour later.....

Destiny was sitting on plane outside of Stadt des Meeres, Alex sitting aside her. Both were silent as their plane took off in a hurry, the entire city watching the plane leave. The sound of the plane echoed throughout the desolate nation, their destination......Transnapastain.

Within quite a bit of time, the plane neared closer to its destination. Destiny was quickly awakened by a rough voice. Her disorientation prevented her from realizing it was the pilot speaking. "This is The Dictatorship, requesting flight clearence for two passengers, Destiny Ruhmanah, Representative of The Dictatorship of Der Fuhrer Dyszel, and Alex Ruhmanah, escort of Destiny." The pilot faced twisted. The names sounded familiar, well, at least their last names. Ruhmanah. His thoughts were quickly dispersed by an acceptence from the nation; his focus directed back toward his job.

The plane began its descent as it neared the airport, Destiny falling back asleep. Alex sat, his back erect, his demeanor unchanged. His gaze looked out at the buildings, a sense of longing deep within him. The sight of so many buildings, of vechiles, of life aroused a sense of desperation. He longed to see his home again. His old home, the large country estate Destiny and him used to race their steeds along. His eyes searched out, the city looked so pleasing to him. He remembered a certain flight with his father, the last flight he would experience with his father. He was young then, and his father's diplomatic prestige with The Dictatorship amazed him. He looked up to his father, vowing to follow in his footsteps.......how far off he had gone. Atticus, leaned over him motioning to the city. "Alex, below you is the capital city. Never forget this site. It is the most important city in our entire nation." Alex gazed in amazement, the bright lights shining in the night, the life bustling about cheerfully. And a massive building rising above all others, Surukai Corporations Dictatorship Headquarters. He was amazed. The scene below him came back to focus as he realized they were no longer over the city, but touching down on a runway.

Destiny was still asleep, his eyes locked on her passive sleeping body. "She is such a fool. But, nonetheless, perfect for the job. She is just one of those pathetic fools who disgrace father's name. Father would be disappointed if he knew what she thought of his sacrifice, what she thought of the land he died for in order to procure safety, and her stupidity and laziness to do anything about it but bitch. Now was her chance. Her chance to reclaim her family's honor and her intergrity in my eyes. She better not screw this up."

The plane ceased moving. The doors opened, the stairs descending. Alex stood up, his limbs stiff from the long flight. Destiny stirred awake, disoriented, and unaware of her current location. Alex slid his arm around her, as he guided her down the stairs.

Within some time,

They were assisted into the party, Destiny still disoriented. Alex cursed his sister's appearence. She clutched on to the black jacket of his military uniform as she fought to stabalize herself. Alex holding her closely to ensure she did not stumble or fall. Destiny's smile was beaming, although all the figures her eyes met seemed to spin and sway.

Destiny was a thin woman, red hair and eyes like mystic topaz. Her skin was creamy, blending smoothly with the now long flowing green dress she dooned. Her hair was long, pulled behind her and flowing like a red water. Small flowers seemed to be sporadically placed throughout her hair. She wore no makeup as she never much cared for it. Her lips were thin and red, her ears holding small diamonds that sparkled perfectly when the light hit them from a certain angle.

Her escort as approximately the same height, more muscular but yet almost as thin. His dark brown hair was evidently inherited from his father, and his dark green eyes a hybrid of both his fathers dark eyes and his mother's bright green eyes. His military status was unknown, but it was obviously he had military training, for everything about him came to that conclusion. He wore a black uniform and white gloves. The only insignia was the insignia to show he served The Reich, The Dictatorship, and Der Fuhrer Dyszel. Nothing to show rank, position, or prestige. He stood looking at no one, a ghost among the crowd, as he directed Destiny inside the impressive building.

The Dictatorship has arrived. And quite a sad sight as that, for the representative appeared to be drunk and her escort, an apathetic dead man.

OOC:
Sorry took so long, kick me later!

:wink:

Fires was standing, having a conversation with the ISA agent Darus, when his cell phone rang.

“Pardon me, Operative.” He said

Darus didn’t seem to mind, an attractive lady had just walked by, so, Fires was off the hook

He smiled at that, When he’d been a pilot in the Air Fleet, that sort of act was common with the single pilots.

He pulled the phone form his pocket, flipped it open and spoke

“Colonel Fires, go ahead.”

“Uhh, sir, this is Captain Grim, again, at the Airport. I thought you might want to know, we just received a small plane, reportedly is, well,” the man paused….stuttering.

“What is it, son, out with it?” asked Fires

“Sir, Its from the Dictatorship, its from the Dictatorship of Der Fuhrer Dyszel….sir…” said the man

oh Lord…I was hoping they wouldn’t come...one of our most powerful friends, a powerful nation, here…here to witness Grand Moron Simon acting a fool.

“…what shall I do, sir?” asked Grim

“Well, get them a car, of course, have them escorted here right now! Get them anything they need, and get pictures so we have them in our records, I want it done, and I want it done yesterday, you get me?” Said Colonel fires, franticly trying to find General Davis

“Sir, yes sir!” said Captain Grim

Fires tapped his IRCD on, “General, if you can hear me, the delegates from Der Fuhrer Dyszel have arrived. I’m having them escorted here.”

Fires heard the General respond through his DIER, “Shit…well, good job. I hope we can recover diplomatically from this one. His Stupidity has been wandering about, talking to guests…its messy, you’re task is to keep them from Alexander as long as possible. Meet them at the door, and divert them.” Said Davis

“Yes sir…” said Fires

Fires moved through he crowd, and activated his IRCD again.

“S-1-1, this is Fires, prepare to receive guests.” He said

“We have them in sight, I got an “Unknown” on the ETIS (Electronic Target Identification system)

“I know, they’re from The Dictatorship, register them as best you can.” He said

“Uh oh, The Dictatorship, here?” replied the sniper

“Don’t remind me, S-1-1, Fires out.”

Fires approached the large wood door, and straightened his tie. The door opened, and in came a man and woman. She was very gorgeous, Fires had never married, he could find very few women that he found attractive (no, he’s not gay, just picky), but this one sparked his interest, for the 1st time tonight, things we’re looking up. The man with her, her escort, was lean, and fit. He wore a trimmed black military uniform, with only one insignia, Fires didn’t recognize it, and he assumed it was representing his nation, but the absence of any visible rank badge made him wonder.

They staggered in the door; she clung to him, as if she were afraid of falling. He stared straight ahead, not speaking, or smiling, just, looking, pale white. They looked odd, coming in, one so proper and ridged, and the other looking a few jumps from sober.

at least we aren’t the only ones who may look like fools tonight he thought, he’d have to remember to tell General Davis that later

“Hello, welcome to Transnapastain, my name is Colonel Gregory Fires, of the Office of Internal Security, I am head of Regional Intelligence, I am also here to act as you’re guide tonight, can I get you anything, take you on a tour, glass of water….anything?” he ramboloed on

shut up, shut up, impress them, don’t scare them off….they’re just people, just like me, no need to be scared.

but he was scared, he was charged with attending to the most important delegates in the entire room, making sure they were happy and content, and making sure they didn’t get to close to Alexander, so they couldn’t discover his stupidity.

Up...sometihng relavent this way comes!

Outside party building

"Come Lynsi. Let us make haste. We are already hours late." Hank stepped out of the limo and reached inside for Lynsi's hand. She took it and he helped her gently out of the limo but much to her surprise, his hand did not let go. Hank looked into her eyes and let a small smile creep across his face. "It's time the world knows... my dear." A smile grew across Lynsi's face as she slightly turned red. She fell into step with Hank and the two ascended the staircase to the front doors. Two guards dressed in black urban warfare uniforms approach the two.

“Welcome to the party Mr. Hank Moore and Miss Lynsi Kiff.” The left guard extends his towards Hank. Hank reaches out and shakes his hand firmly, though uncomfortably. “Mr. Moore, those men behind you.” The guard lifts his head up to look over Hank’s shoulder. “Are they your guards?”

“Unfortunately. They will be attending with me, yes. But they will remain a good distance away from my person.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Its bad enough I’m going to be surrounded by people I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry sir, what was that?” The guard looked at him again.

“Oh, it was just me thinking out loud. Ignore it.” He shook his head.

“Yes, Mr. Moore. Right this way, sir.” The guard gestured towards the giant Red Wood double doors behind him. “The party has already started, but you haven’t missed a thing.” The guard’s smile made Hank uneasy. He returned the smile just to be polite, but the smile faded once he passed through the double doors.


Somewhere underground

Harvey, who is dressed in his stolen OIS uniform and carrying a small suitcase, which has his cook’s uniform in it, is making his way through the underground network sewer system’s of Transnapastain. Garbage, rats, creatures that looked like rats, and dead bodies littered the sewer system. Every step he took he either stepped on a rat or a dead body. “Oh man, this is so disturbing. At least there are catwalks else I’d have to explain why I smell like… the sewers.” Harvey pulled out a small PDA and check the map the squad hacker had acquired through unknown means. “Just a little more…” He looked up and saw a light beaming down from the ceiling and he jumped with joy.

Unfortunately for Harvey, his jump of joy alerted an unlikely enemy. “Huh?” Harvey froze in fear. “What was that noise…?” The voice echoed through the sewer and was accompanied by a squashing noise.

“A guard… down here?” Harvey muttered under his breath and crouched down. He moved slowly and quietly, trying hard not to step on any rats, but trying to step on the bodies as to quiet his falling footsteps.

“Hello? Who’s there?” The guard’s voice came booming through the sewer. Harvey felt a little scared but pressed onward, hoping to spot the guard before the guard spots him. “What the hell is that!?” the guard shouts. Harvey stops dead in his tracks. Snarling and growling floods the sewers. The echo is unbearable for Harvey and he covers his ears with his hands. He can hear the screams of the guard through his hands. He removes his hands and steadies himself on the wall with one arm. The echo’s pass and all is quiet again. Whatever it was, it was hungry.

“Oh man… Oh man… I don’t need this… How much further can this exit be?” He mutters and continues to move forward, still stepping on bodies. Slowly the light grows bigger as Harvey moves closer to it.

He reaches the hole where the light emits from and examines it. There is a narrow wrought iron ladder that extends from the ground upwards into the light. Despite his attempts, Harvey cannot discern what is beyond the light, but he hopes it’s the correct exit. “The exit I want leads into a janitorial closet. However, there is one that leads to the middle of the guard dog kennel that I have no desire to climb.” He shrugs, mounts the ladder, and ascends into the light.

While he was speaking with the representatives of Der Furhrer, his DIER buzzed

“This is S-1-1, Nailiak delegation confirmed. Hank Moore, escort, and guards inbound.”

“Copy that.” Replied General Davis

As the man and woman entered the door, Colonel Fires waved them over.

“Hello, my name is Colonel Gregory Fires, OIS, welcome to the party.”

Destiny stapped fully to attention, her disorientation lifting at the sight of life. She quickly turned to her brother, glaring at him.

"Why did you not tell me we were here?"

Alex shrugged, his facial expressions unchanged.

Turning to her guests, "Forgive me for my unsightly appearence. I was just tired and do not sleep well on planes. My name is Destiny Ruhmanah, Representative of The Dictatorship." She smiled pleasently extending her hand.

Tatsui had perked up at the entrance of the odd couple. Making his way around he heard the woman introduce herself to the people around her. Destiny eh? mused Tatsui. Well I’m not big on coincidences so what the heck I’ll introduce myself. Striding confidently over to the group he’d just left in favor of the buffet Tatsui smiled broadly at the new arrivals.
“Hello madam Ruhmanah,” He leaned in to take her hand to his lips. “I don’t believe either one of us has had the pleasure of the others company, I am Tatsui Isobe Prime Minister of the Dominion of Nova Hope. You might even say tonight’s guest of honour.” With a smile Tatsui gauged the woman’s reaction, never losing the smile.

Colonel Fires extended his hand, taking Destiny’s hand, genuflecting, and kissing it.

“I welcome you to Transnapastain, madam Destiny, and you, sir.” He said, regarding her escort.

“We are very honored to welcome you here this evening, and thank you for making time to attend, I’m sure any of the guests here would be happy to speak with you, should you desire, and there is a buffest along the back wall, should you require food.” Said Fires

Sometime during the monologue, Tatsui had appeared next to Colonel Fires, he took her and kissed it as well, Fires heard him say, ”...you might say tonight’s guest of honor.”

Fires laughed politely, “Yes, Prime Minister Tatsui is indeed tonight’s guest of honor.” He smiled warmly.

Destiny smiled, happiness radiating from her, "My friends, the pleasure is all mine! It is so dull back home. You spared me from sure insanity!"

Alex looked at Destiny quickly, a look of pure digust filling his face. He grunted and left her side rather quickly without saying a word. He scanned the room, looking for a nice quiet corner.

Destiny frowned, her brother's behavior had been quite rude and rather odd this evening. She smiled to the guest of honor, and slightly bowed.

"Hello dear guest of honour!"

*I hate the forums*

Darius took another chip from the table, dipping it into the various flavored dips to create a colored concoction that towered over the poor piece of potato. “Fear this chip!” he declared to the nearest person, an OIS guard, who just stared at him as he dropped the entire monstrosity back into his throat and swallowed it almost whole. Darius snagged a cup of punch from the table and shot it back, wincing as it flashed into his mouth. He shook his head. “Whew! Lemony!” he grinned maniacally, making the guard take a step back. “Remind me not to drink that crappy punch.” He placed his empty cup back in the fresh cup pile, and, satisfied with his anti-social behavior, turned back to watch the Transnapastain Chancellor embarrass himself again.

Wow. I’m surprised he hasn’t been relieved of office. Darius glanced at the diamond pen, sitting to the side, and he grinned a little. Right in the eye… with a pen. The violent thoughts were not intentional, or meaningful, simply stray neurons that wandered inside of his bright mind.

His gaze moved from the Chancellor, tracking over to Sub-Director Phaellan, who was attempting to pry information from two OIS agents more prepared for interrogation than the SD’s gossipy wife. Darius grinned, and let his gaze settle on the latest delegations. There’s Nailiak. Looks bored, and under pressure. Most be withdrawal, being removed from the tree he was hugging. He caught the gaze of the other diplomats. From the Dictatorship of DFD. The man’s a professional, you tell that. The woman… is she drunk? No… Darius’s interest was tweaked. Didn’t they chem themselves? I gotta make sure I don’t ask how home is.

From the doorway, one of his agents gave a nod, and Darius returned it, acknowledging the all clear. On the balconies, ISA agents had made sure to strategically place their conversations to keep Phaellan under constant guard. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the OIS, it was that they didn’t trust anyone. Darius reached up and brushed his glasses, toggling reverse polarity filters. Instantly, the room became hues of blue and reds, with clothes vanishing under the traitorous UV rays, and revealing the hidden weapons within twenty feet of his gaze. He scanned the room calmly, stopping only to check out several of the more attractive hostesses, smiling as he enjoyed the filtered view. Another brush, and the glasses flicked back into normal vision. Thermal, reverse polarity, and NVG were all integrated into those systems, captured by the various scanners on his person and routed via six point eight gigahertz signal to the display screens in his glasses.

Darius moved into the room, wishing to close with the Chancellor and enjoy the spectacle from a closer vantage point. He slipped between guests and servers without a brush or noise, a wraith in the midst. By the time he arrived in the center of the room, he had acquired several small snacking sausages, a glass of wine, and a nice watch. Behind him, a hostess was reviewing her plate, certain she’d had more glasses before. He placed the watch onto another plate as its owner realized it was missing, only to spot it coming towards him on top a plate. Behind him, Darius heard a distinct, “What the hell?” He smiled and continued to observe the guests, aloof from them. Even in the middle of the human maelstrom, Darius remained, as always, the bulwark of apathy. He simply watched the proceedings like a scientist, observing rats.

On a deep level, he wished to participate, but there was a wall of his own creation between them and him. He could not overcome it, and had stopped trying years before. For him, this barricade was a one way mirror, and he could watch those on the other side, while they only saw the wall he wished them to see. He smiled and laughed politely at some joke he never really heard, only breaking from his observance when someone nearly rammed him.

He sidestepped from reflex, catching the tripping guest, and setting them back along their path without a word. The guest stood stunned for a moment, but Darius was already watching the Chancellor bungle his discussion with the Nailiakian delegate, and the agent was smiling slightly. His attention turned to the heap of conversation surrounding the Dictatorship female delegate, and his frosty smile returned. He noticed her companion, brother, perhaps, from the resemblance, look his way, and Darius knew a fellow fighter. Darius nodded subtly, and turned away, his smirk intact. He continued his detached study of “party dynamics”, forgoing hope of conversation amid the furor.

“So you see, during the Great War…” Alexander droned on and on, with guests listening politely and wishing to God he’d just shut up and die.

He’d already asked the Nailiak Delegation why they all looked like purple elves…and referred to the Capital building as Chucky Cheese…he’d also fallen asleep twice, confused the Nailiak Delegation from emissaries from Transnapastain, then realizing….he was the delegate from Transnapastain.

General Davis was nearing the end of his limit, he’d first contemplated shooting the Executer…. those thoughts had now turned to shooting himself.

As soon as this event is over…tomorrow morning, we’re going to ask him to step down….after that, I’ll order doctors to reveal his medical condition….and require him to step down….if that doesn’t work…I would really hate for it to come to….the 3rd option. thought General Davis

He’d notice the arrival of the guests from The Dictatorship, and from Nailiak, he’d need to go and greet them. He stood from the table he and Generals Jennings and a man from Kaukolastan, one of the diplomats, were sitting at, and walked over to the Nailiak representative

“Hello, Mr. Moore, my name is General Jonathan Davis, I am the head of the Office of Internal Security, I’m very pleased you and you’re…associate, could attending tonight’s…Fuba….I mean events.” He smiled

Tomorrow, just one more day…I just hope that Transnapastain has allies after this! The rate he’s going, we’re going to be the laughing stock of the Directorate, and I always thought it would be tough to wrest that position from Armed Lumberjacks!

Tatsui smiled at the woman. Sometimes it’s good to be the guest of honour. With a brief smile that looked like it would burst capillaries Tatsui acknowledged the greeting.
“For give me for being blunt but since the cameras aren’t pointed at me today,” Tatsui gestured towards the Grand Executer. “I feel the need to indulge myself.” A quick smile tugged at his lips while his eyes held a gentle twinkle, he was having a good time here to be sure. Taking a step towards the dance floor as if to lead the woman, as he had not relinquished her hand from his stolen kiss, he spoke with an almost sprightly tone and asked, “I was hoping you’d do me the honour of a dance as I find foreign women to be absolutely enthralling and mi’dear,” Tatsui locked his soft eyes with Destiny “You would make my night to be sure.” Hopefully I get a yes out of her, and then I can ask her a bit about herself, but in this crowd I’m not going to get too personal.

Phaellan was nervously chatting with a curious OIS officer, who wanted to know about the design of Mind Blade, despite the fact that Phaellan never wanted to hear about that damned waeapon ever again, and the fact that it was currently sitting in a negative pressure vault in his own labs, and the fact that it was "destroyed" ten years ago. Still, this was a simple discussion of the mechanics of the agent, and that he was qualified and allowed to talk about, as the sequencers needed existed only in Isis. When his inner-ear implant chirped to start a communication request, he winced. Excusing himself, he turned to get some food.

He sub-vocalized, "What?" His head still hurting from the chime.

"It's Darius. Just be glad the implant wasn't set to vibrate."

"Cute, agent. What's the matter?"

"Check your seven o'clock. You'll notice Tatsui requesting a dance from the female Dictatorship delegate."

"I see it. So what?"

"Shift to your three o'clock. There's a glaring OIS colonel you might notice. Follow his view."

Phaellan looked across the room, spotted the slightly angry officer, and followed his line of sight... right back to Tatsui. "Lovely." Phaellan stated.

"You see it then? We've got another diplomatic snafu just waiting to happen."

"Both the host and the guest shooting for the same guest." Phaellan rubbed his temple. "This night is going down in history for the most screwed up diplomacy in history."

"Agreed, sir."

"I'll speak to General Davis, hint to him about his man." he paused. "And Darius?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Please don't play any more tricks on the other guests. I've overheard six people complaining about watches and jewelry switching from person to person without explanation."

"And you assumed it's me? I'm hurt-"

"You have a dark gift, Darius, and a sick humor." Phaellan grinned a little.

"I was bored."

"Don't be."

"Sir, when I'm not bored, it's because someone is trying to kill someone."

"Stay bored."

"Aye sir." With a chuckle, the coms ended.

Phaellan walked up to General Davis, still grinning from his conversation with Darius. He's frighteningly similar, sometimes. Same humor and everything. "Hello, General. Nice party you have here. Say, who's that colonel over there?"

The General simply stared for a moment, then looked like he was going to cry, then stormed into the crowd. Long night for you, my friend?

General Davis heard the approaching person, heard him speak, but, the fubar of tonight’s proceedings had overwhelmed him. He stalked off from the Sub Director, without intending too

oh, now there’s a way to make friends… he thought

He turned around and returned to Phaellan.

“I’m sorry, sir, its just, well, I think you understand.” He said

Phaellan nodded

“Anyways, that Colonel over there? Oh, that’s Gregory Fires, he’s the one you coordinated with when…you know, there seem to be a lot of unmentionable things between our two nations.” He smiled “He’s head of Regional Intelligence, and heads up the Joint Intelligence Effort on our end. Why do you ask?

“Well, I thought you may like to know that….the delegate from The Dictatorship, seems to have caught his eye…and then barrowed by Nova Hope’s PM.” Replied Phaellan

“Oh, feels like High School all over again, I’ll make sure he doesn’t turn this into a diplomatic snafu….well, anymore than it already is, thank you Sub-Director.” Said Davis

meanwhile

Bastard, just cause you’re the guest of honor, I was going to do that! thought fires angrily

Story of his life, I was gonna ask her out, I was gonna do that….never seemed to be quick enough when it came to woman. He could outguess and outthink enemies, but…now is not the time to worry about such things he though.

He noticed General Davis staring at him

“Sir?” over the IRCD

“Colonel, don’t screw this up.”

“I know, don’t worry.”

I will win, this time, however. he thought

Alex's eyes scanned the party, few things attracting his attention. He was disgusted, the thought of his father doing similiar business years as a diplomat disturbed him. "How could he do this? All this properness? All this scraping and bowing and please and thank yous? And yet, still manage to become one of the most remembered members of The Reich," he thought, suddenly craving his home's Bourbon.

His eyes met his sister again. She was in the middle of a conversation with two people, and Alex grew irriated, presuming she was about to screw things up. He began to head back toward her.

Destiny smiled, a dance with the guest of honour was always a honor not to be turned down, well at least in her home. She nodded in agreement, "A dance sounds very pleasant," she said to the guest of honour. Before leaving she shot Fires a quick wink and smile, "Thank you sir for your very kind welcome!"

From the corner of her eye she spotted Alex, who appeared to be enraged. "What is wrong with him," she spoke aloud, although she had intended on keeping the thought silent.

Alex, stopped aside Fires, watching his sister head for a dance with the guest of honor. "She better not screw this up," he muttered, restraining himself from rushing after her. He turned to Fires his eyes set in an unintentional glare toward his sister, "So, where might I find the Transnapastain representative?"

Tatsui had caught the man coming towards the small circle of delegates, he didn’t seem to have the sme fluid well practiced motion everyone else here had, he looked albeit no overly so, out of place.
"What is wrong with him,” Destiny now being directed onto the dance floor asked. Tatsui stopped in the middle of the dance floor, paused and then took a deep bow which almost made his forehead touch the floor.
“You honour me with your consent.” He embraced her for the dance after a quick second to listen to the music and decide what was appropriate. Now beginning to circle the dance floor with his enchantress in hand he asked,
“What’s wrong with who now? The other dictatorship delegate?” Tatsui posed the question in the most innocent manner as to not arouse any strong response, he didn’t really want his dance to end early.

Somewhere inside the party building

Harvey emerges from the light and pulls himself out of the sewer hole. "Holy s***! It smells so much better up here!" He stands up and brushes his clothes off. He brings his right arm up to his nose and takes a deep breath. He plugs his nose with his other hand and holds his right arm away from his head. "Good thing I packed spare clothing." He crouches down and lays his suitcase on the floor. He unlatches the two latches and opens the lid. There are two stacks of clothes: a cooks outfit and an OIS combat uniform, complete with gasmask. A grin grows across his face and takes out the cooks uniform and begins to change his clothing.

He emerges from the janitors closet and looks around. Noone was around. "I must be far away from the party room." He pulls out his little PDA and locks the janitors closet. "Too bad that's the only room that DOESN'T have security." He glanced over the map. He was only 3 feet from the party room. "Must have sound proofed each room. That could be used to my advantage, though Im sure the entire building is bugged."

Suddenly his ear peice came to life. "Guard 4-4-2 converg on area 4. Bugs picked up talking, check it out."
"Roger that sec."

"Oh man, they must be talking about me." Harvey checked his map. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was in area 11. He checked the map again and found the kitchen. "Thats my target objective. Better get moving, Im already behind the targeted time."

In the party room

"What a moron! He mistook us for the Transnapastaini delegates... he IS the delegate!" Hank shouted under a hushed voice to Lynsi.

"Mr. Moore, please! Don't say such things." She looked around, worried as if someone would notice and take offence to it.

"Lynsi, stop calling me Mr. Moore. Call me Hank, or hun, or something... I don't care. But that guy is a moron! He's not mentally healthy! He welcomed us to Chuckie Cheeses!"

"Mr... Han... hun, he's old. He probably has alsheimers. He's loved by the people so much." She moved in closer to him, hoping he would lower his voice.

"So what! God ferring people are so... blind! Stupid! Ignorant! Someone needs to kill him." He moved closer to Lynsi's ear. "And I'm seriously thinking of doing him in myself." Lynsi gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Don't say such things! Remember, this building is bugged! Hun, you worry me so much. Please, Im a common citizen of Nailiak. You, on the other hand, are a respected delegate! They wont hesitate to take me back to Nailiak!"

"RESPECTED!" Hank bellows. "You think they respect me here? I overheard some d***head agent calling me a treehugger! You call that respect? Thats what people think of Nailiak. "Bunch of treehugging hippies!" or "Go back to your precious trees, freak!". Can you honsetly say that that is respect?"

"Hun, please calm down! Come with me, lets take a walk. You need some air." She links her arm with his and, more or less, drags him towards the door. He looked over at her and a small smirk grew on his face. He leaned in, close to her ear.

"You know, you're very sexy when you give orders like that." He whispers. Lynsi's face grew very red as she tried to cover a smile.

"Hush! You shouldn't say such things in a place such as this." She looked at him. His smirk become more noticeable and she grew redder still. She shook her head and they left through the front doors.

The large man in the Dictatorship uniform walked over and stood next to Fires.

“She better not screw this up.” He muttered, Fires was about to ask him what he had said when the mans head snapped up, his dark, hard, calculating eyes cut into the colonel.

he has the eyes of a killer, but, there’s honor behind those eyes, honor, and something else, longing? Disgust?”

“So, where can I find the Transnapastain Delegate?” he asked pointedly

shit thought Fires

“Sir, my name is Colonel Fires, Office of Internal Security, I can speak on behalf of my nation, what would you like to know?”

His gaze drifted back to Destiny…

~Meanwhile~

General Davis and Sub-Director Phaellan stood talking for some time, chatting about the Roainian, “almost” wars, MADAE, poking fun at the HSB in Armed Lumberjacks, and any number of other activates.

His earpiece buzzed

“Guard 4-4-2 converges on area 4. Bugs picked up talking, check it out.”

wonder what that could be?

He was about to inquire when, suddenly, across the room, the Nailiak delegate bellowed something about respect, ranting at his date, something about not being respected

Davis chuckled

“Sub-Director? You know how it is when people haven’t had a cigarette for a while, how they become irritable and moody?”

“Yes, what of it?” asked the SD

“Looks like the same is true of Nailiak citizens, except when they are removed from their
trees.”

The men laughed, General Davis felt some of the tension draining from him

“It feels good to relax….tonight has not been the best night for Transnapastain, no?”

The Executer, meanwhile, sat sleeping in his chair, drooling, with a Camera stuck in his face, and a reported trying to wake him

“What the hell?” said General Davis, as he tapped his earpiece, Security 4-1-2, get that reporter woman away from the Executer…she’s making an ass…more of an ass, out of all of us.”

A security guard detached himself from a conversation he was in, and began to hustle the reported away.

“Nevermind that stress-relief thing…” muttered the General

OOC:
If at any time any one needs to role play my character, feel free to, so long as you act in their proper fashion. :wink: I know sometimes you made need only a simple response and it make take some time for me to respond, so therefore, just role play the response. More then likely I will not mind at all!


IC:
Destiny gasped slightly, unaware she spoke her thoughts aloud. "Sorry! Yes, my brother Alex is acting very odd. He is too uptight and serious, like his whole goal here is just to attend. And his whole demeanor toward The Dictatorship. Why, if you say one bad thing about it, he instantly gets ready to kill! I mean, he has always been a loyal a.....soldier....." Destiny stopped, realizing that she may have said too much. "Forgive me, my brother's incompetence to socialize is very evident."

Destiny smiled, trying to hide her slight blunder. Her brother's position in the government was not known, and she needed to keep it that way. Sweetly, "But, let us forget about him! He is a miserable man anyhow!" She giggled slightly, staring deep into Tatsui's eyes, a custom habit.

At the mean time, Alex, talking with Fires, grunted. His demeanor serious and to the point. "For starters, where's the Bourbon? I need a drink."

A very slight amaible expression flitted across his face quickly. However, just as fast as it had passed, his cold and serious expression resummed.

His thoughts were elsewhere though, on the party back at his own home. It was funny how controlled this party was. There were no naked drunk men slapping other guest's asses, no guests taking entire bottles of liquor and downing them, no men brutally beating other guests, no hosts leaving to go to a battle, no women being raped, no men being arrested, and most importantly.......no killing. His body tensed, wondering what hell was going on back home. He left the party after Der Fuhrer left to reclaim The Depths of Hell. He wondered what chaos went down after that. He sighed, feeling the desperate need for alcohol.

Alex frowned, "Better yet, what's your hardest drink?"

Fires mind had dirtied again

He heard Alex mumble something…didn’t quite catch it

“What did you say?” he asked?

“I asked what your hardest drink was?” responded the man, his demeanor suggesting annoyance.

“Well, this being a pretty formal event, wine and champagne, but, you, you don’t look like you want that.” Fires hesitated and pulled a flask from his coat. “This is some of Transnapastain’s best spiced rum, you’re welcome to it.” The silver flask had the OIS’s 8-pointed star symbol, with the letters OIS inscribed on it. “In fact, keep it.” He added

Destiny gazed deep into Tatsui’s eyes. His eyes softened at the look, not to much you don’t want to seem like you’re over playing this. Remember, you’re smitten with this woman. Tatsui was a student of human behavior, he spent his entire adult life making people see in him what they wanted, and he was not going to let this be the exception. This woman hushed a crowd of the must powerful and ruthless people the NNAO has bios on, he was intrigued, fascinated and it’d be a lie to say he wasn’t attracted. No you’re not attracted, you’re working Dammnit! Don’t be silly. Chances are she has a dozen suitors waiting back home. Don’t think that, that’s irrelevant your not into this girl are you? Swirling about the room now to the beat of the music he smiled at her and responded, “Mi’dear,” Tatsui smiled. “Perhaps he’s simply over protective of his sister because he knows that I might enjoy this dance a little too much.” Tatsui smiled at his own joke. The song ended as the band took a small intersession to get themselves some drinks.
“Now that seems like a good idea, why don’t I get you a drink and you can talk to me about what ever is comfortable because sometimes it’s not what’s being said,” Tatsui smiled broadly again, “but who’s saying it. Now I’ll be right back with a drink for you.” Tatsui waited to hear Destiny’s preference then made his way to the drinks, intentionally taking a detour by Alexander. Taking in the sight of the unconscious dignitary he slowed to see if Alexander would respond to him before making his way to the punch. Not getting a reaction he continued to the buffet and got the drinks he was looking for and made his way back to Destiny. Giving her the drink he smiled and toasted with her,
“To new acquaintances, may they always turn out to be as good looking as you. Sorry that was inappropriate, let me try again. *Ahem* This is a saying in my country which I think fits here. ‘The happiest business in all the world is that of making friends, And no investment on the street pays larger dividends, For life is more than stocks and bonds, and love than rate percent,’” Sipping on his champagne Tatsui smiled, he hoped he was being received well by everyone he didn’t need to add to the asinine behavior in the room. With a smiled and a taking of her hand Tatsui engaged in an energetic conversation with Destiny smiling and genuinely enjoying here company. While the conversation was very obviously steered away from her home life Tatsui didn’t really mind, he was simply enjoying the talk in the first place.

In the kitchen area

Harvey slid into the kitchen, barely escaping the view of two approaching guards. He made his way over the the sink and began to wash his hands. "Gotta fit in, gotta fit in." He repeated in his head.

"Hey you!" The voice sent a chill down Harvey's spine. He grabbed a paper towel and turned around.

"Yeh?" He asked then threw the paper towel in the trash can. A man with a chef's hat was walking towards him with a bowl of liquid in his hands.

"Take this to the party room and hurry. Our great leader wishes for more... punch." He thrusted the bowl into Harvey's chest, nearly spilling the punch on Harvey's cooks uniform.

"Yes, sir." Harvey took the bowl and walked towards the conviently labeled door which leads to the party room. As he walked down the hallway, he looked around and made sure there were no cameras or people present. He shifted the bowl to one hand and reached inside his pocket with the other and pulled out a small vial. With his thumb, he poped the cork off the top and dumped the contents of the vial into the bowl. He pocketed the vial then reached down the pick up the cork.

"Hey, you! What're you doing?" The voice startled Harvey and he almost dropped the punch bowl. He turned around the found a lone guard staring him down. "So, what're you doing?" The gaurd repeated.

"Uh, I found this trash on the floor. I was just picking it up to throw it away." He held the cork out and showed it to the guard then put it in his shirt pocket.

"I see, very well. Better get going with that punch. The leader is getting restless..." His voice trailed off as he walked around Harvey and continued his patrol.

"That was close. Better get moving again."

Upon entering the party room, he noticed the Transpanstaini leader dancing and acting a fool. As he passed through the room towards the food table, he overheard several conversations. Some were talking about hard drinks, one was talking about someone's sister and dancing, or so he thought. He passed by Alexander and overheard him talking about little purple elves in the great war, whatever war that was. He reached the table and placed the punch bowl onto it then picked up the empty one. As he walked away from the table, he noticed several people heading for the newly placed punch bowl. "Hehehehe... suckers. In a few hours, all those suckers will be unconcious. Then the take down begins. Now, I must make my way to the security control room. But first, I need my OIS outfit."

Alexander, dancing atop the dais, and, talking on about how the legions of purple elves had attacked Transnapastain, and had subsequently been beaten back to the lands of Purple Elves, wherever that may be, by one Heymain the Mainer, whoever that was

The most common expression of those around him could be summarized in the words

What the fuck?

He noticed the waiter bring in the new punch bowl, also noticed the people begin to congregate around it.

Alexander leaped from his chair, and ran over to the bowl, he got there just as one man was about to take a drink. Alexander slapped the OIS officers hand, sending the cup flying downward, the red liquid splashed all over the mans formal white shirt and tie, staining across his entire chest, the man looked like he was about ready to pull his USP9 and shot him on the spot, but, another agent grabbed his wrist and said “no, not yet…” quietly

Of course, Alexander didn’t notice this at all, he climbed on top of the table, knocking plates of food onto the ground.

“Attention everyone! I am declaring that we must have a toast in honor of Darknessland joining the Directorate!” he proclaimed

“For God sake!” someone in the crowd yelled “Its Nova Hope!”

laughter fills the room

“Who said that!?” demands Alexander, “arrest him!”

No one moves

“Damnit, I said arrest that main” he said pointing to the man he spilled punch on

The man looked shocked and, once again, his hand dropped to his pistol butt.

“Come on, Dave, lets go” said his fellow agent

“No, I’m going to shot him, right in the face, bloody, senile out bastard!” he snarled

General Davis looked up, “Take him away” he added, sub-vocally, “Don’t worry about it, agents.”

“Thank you, Colonel” said Alexander addressing General Davis

Davis sighed

“Waiters, fill the glasses of all the guests, we will toast the alliance between the Directorate and Nova Hope, may good times reign, and may all nations prosper from this alliance” he said, dignified

Everyone started, that was the 1st coherent, normal thing, he’d said all night

must have been reading from a card though Davis

They raised, and drained, their glasses…wishing it was something stronger, like Everclear

As the Executor embarrassed himself before the crowds, jumping on the table, Phaellan’s ear-piece hummed again. Again, Darius spoke, “Sir, it’s almost drink time. That stuff is real shitty. I think the Executor pissed in the damn stuff. I’m gonna sneak out of the room, ‘cause I can’t stand another glass.”

Phaellan found Darius across the room, and glared at him. “Don’t you dare act like that. This is a special diplomatic function, and we must remain in proper guest form-“

Darius simply pointed to the dancing Executor.

”You know what? Fine. Just don’t make a big scene. I wish I could join you.”

”No problem, sir. See you in a few moments.” The channel cut, and Darius slid out as the new punch bowl entered.

Abruptly, the Executor regained his composer and declared, “Waiters, fill the glasses of all the guests, we will toast the alliance between the Directorate and Nova Hope, may good times reign, and may all nations prosper from this alliance.”

Phaellan nodded, thankful that at least the toast was right. He hoped the Executor hadn’t signed the treaty wrong, and with one last grin, tossed back the punch like it was a shot of good old Kaukolastani whiskey.

He turned to talk to another guest when the room began to swim before his eyes. He held out his hand to steady his body, but he stumbled again. As he spun, he saw the others in the room beginning to fall. Many of them were already stretched out on the ground, others dangled from the balconies. He grabbed the chair, trying to force himself to throw up, but the chemical was already acting. He looked up again, met the eyes of Alex, and swore loudly, “Fu<k this!”

Phaellan fell to the ground. He reached up and pressed his microphone, opening a channel.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darius stepped from the great hall, smirking to himself. That punch was terrible. I really think the Executor dumped his geriatric bag into it. The hallway was empty, as everyone with good etiquette was inside the party room for the toast. Still, Darius didn’t want to be spotted shirking his duty, and he ducked into the bathroom.

As he relieved himself, his earpiece came active. He could hear labored breathing, “Darius… this is Phaellan… the punch… poison… everyone’s… we’ve been had…” the voice stopped and there was a slight thump, like a head striking marble. Darius stared for a moment at the wall.

“Holy shit.” He whispered to himself, stunned.

Noise in the hallway broke his stupor, and he dived into the stall, pulling himself onto the toilet and crouching to hide his feet. He pulled the silenced Sag Commando from his coat, and aimed it at the stall door. Come for me… I dare you. For Darius, the party had just gotten “interesting”.

General Davis tossed his glass back

this punch sucks! What’s with this crap?

He was thinking about what a disaster tonight had been, his stomach had begun to hurt, so he’d taken a seat

good, tonight’s been so long, I’m so tired…. was his last thought before the darkness claimed him

~~


“Here’s to you.” Said Fires

He and the man from the Dictatorship, Alex, he’d found out, clinked their glasses, and shot the punch back.

“so….about your home….”he started, before falling forward…the man caught him….then, he too passed out, and landed on top of Fires


~~

Alexander was retuning to his seat on the dais, as he walked, he began to stumble…he was totally obviously to the people dropping like flies around him, he feel forward, smacking his head on the raised dais stone….

All around the room, people lay strewn about, over tables, on the floor, on steps, and on balconies, The lights cut out to the emergency power, and the blast shutters closed around the windows, doors and skylight above

No one outside the building was aware of what happened, those inside were sealed in, and, comms jamming prevented them form calling for help, those outside would soon have a surprise for them

Alex took the flask from Fires, his need for a hard drink great. He was about to open the flask when he was served a glass of punch. He quickly accepted the glass and slid the flask inside his pocket. A lack of humor in his voice, “What the hell is this? A toast?” He grunted slightly, accepting the glass and toasting, although clearly unaccustomed to toasting, and downed the drink quickly.

“So…about your home…” Fires asked before falling forward. Alex’s reflex allowed him to catch Fires, before he himself began to feel dizzy, his stomach retching, as he fell forward, landing on top of Fires, muttering “Destiny” before he passed out.

In the mean time, Destiny accepted her drink. The toast proposed, she daintily sipped her drink, the taste rather strong and bitter for punch. She nearly finished her glass, when she felt the sudden need to want to throw up. Her head started to hurt, as if she had not slept in long time. “Tatsui! Help! I……feel…….oh God!”

Destiny, mustering the last of her senses let out a scream, “SOMEONE! HELP!”

She collapsed forward, the glass in her hand striking off the ground, breaking into tiny shards that scattered about her hand. She slipped into unconsciousness, a dark world coming over her.

Both The Dictatorship representatives were out cold, unaware of anything around them.

Tatsui smiled over at Destiny. He was too polite to say anything about Alexander’s behavior, he was the host after all, but the laughter could be seen in his eyes as Alexander made an ass of himself. As the toast was made Tatsui exhaled, opened his throat and threw the vile stuff back without tasting it. And they say living in residence is bad for your education Destiny beside him consumed hers in a much more polite manner. Tatsui’s head began to swim, he barely caught Destiny as she slumped against him. He managed to slide her over to a chair before dropping to one knee.
“Ugh a bujah.” Wait that didn’t sound right, lets try again, Maday, Black Throne’s siege now.
“Ma Bub thhhhhh ssss non.” Well I’m drugged. Tatsui threw himself off his knee to stand, only to pivot around on his dress shoe’s heel and dash his nose on the beautifully tiled floor. Lying in a large splat of his own blood Tatsui pushed himself forward using his toes and ankle muscles. Maybe if I get to the bathroom I can wash myself off and not look like such a putz to my rescuers he thought giving up all hope of coming out of this ahead he tried to concentrate on coming out, not behind. Well this isn’t working because now my vision is cutting in and out. Hmm, maybe I can stand up again. With one last valiant effort Tatsui pitched himself onto his hands and knees, then with great strain that made sweat bead from him like a waterfall he boosted himself to his feet. Yes I’m up, oh shit, I’m falling, falling, fall with that Tatsui was aware of no more. Which was probably for the best as he now laid in a small puddle of his own blood with two black eyes.

Seconds after this fiasco a van outside was coming to life. No sounds where being made except for the sounds of six men rifling guns and taking safeties off. Placing his hand on the van’s door handle the young sergeant looked to his senior to ask permission to begin the breech…

bump

bump

Retag so I can find this again. Nailiak, I can't post until you deal with that van,...

Retag, 1st new post

OOC: Nailiak, we're waiting... my dude's just camping in the bathroom.

taggersz

Back in the closet
Harvey looked at his watch. By now, all those fools should be passed out. Now, its time to give the signal. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the commlink. His thumb activates the talk button.

"The cat is alseep. Mice begin play." Harvey reaches down and opens the sewer grate then grabs the suitcase. Inside he pulls out an M8A1 and sets it aside, then pulls the clips of 6.8 Directorate (OOC: 6.8D shorthand for furture reference), sets them aside the gun, then closes the case. Harvey shuffles around the M8A1 and the clips to grab his armour. Time to rock and roll He rips the cooks clothing off and slides the OIS armour on. He picks up the suitcase and reopens it. He pulls the foam from the bottom out to expose one S.O.D. (Security Override Device), one R.I.C.E. (Remote Intrusion and Counter-Measure Eliminator), and one device link cable. He pockets all three and runs out of the closet.

Harvey heads down the hallway, passing the kitchen, and goes right into the great hall. He nearly trips over a sleeping guest who had fallen just inches from the doorway to the hall. He regains his balance and barrels up the stairs to the second floor. He stops and turns to look over the balcony. Bodies litter the floor from corner to corner. Alexander lays at the feet of his chair in a small puddle of blood. "Old fool busted his head on his own chair." Harvey turned around and ran towards the third floor stairs.

On the third floor Harvey consults the map. Security room. Damn, its near the capitol building itself. Im going to have to hussle. Harvey breaks out into a full blown run down the corridor. As he passes the offices, he notices that several are still working late into the night. The thought of turning back to kill them crosses his mind but is dismissed. I have no time, I must reach the security room.

Harvey soon reaches the security room and slows to a halt. He unslings his M8 and kicks the door in. A single security gaurd awakes from his slumber in the chair and finds a man dressed in OIS assault gear.

"What the f-" He's cut short as a three round burst of 6.8D pierce his chest. His body falls limp and slides out of the chair. Harvey reaches into his pocket and pulls out the R.I.C.E. and slaps it on the control panel. He opens the control box underneath the desk and connects the the command wires from the R.I.C.E. unit to the exposed circuits. Harvey reaches into his pocket and removes the S.O.D. and the device link cable. He attaches the S.O.D. to the link cable, then the free link cable end to the R.I.C.E. unit. He activates the R.I.C.E. unit and runs out of the room.

10 miles south of the capital building. Two Pav Low helicopters are coming in low and hot.

"The cat is alseep. Mice begin play."

A large man dressed in OIS gear stands up and grabs the hold bar. "Alright ladies! The mission has been given the green light. PL one is headed towards the courtyard and will infiltrate via courtyard entrances. Thier mission is to clear and secure the first floor then setup the cameras for the execution. Our mission, we will infiltrate via second floor windows and secure the Great Hall where the Chancellor is currently sleeping. We will setup the firing line to execute the Chancellor. Any questions?

One man raises his hand. "Sir?"

"Yes, private?"

"Sir, what about AA and SAM site? Isnt the capitol building littered with them?"

"Yes private, but we have a man on the inside who will have those remote linked so we can control them. Also, we are broadcasting a DDF IFF (OOC: DDF=Directorate Defence Force)."

"Thank you, sir."

"Commander! We have a problem." The co-pilot turns and looks back at the commander. "Sir, we have a survellance van and several other vans parked out front."

The commander faces the co-pilot. "Blow them out of existance! Full rocket barrage!"

"Yes sir!"

The commander watches through the front windows as several rockets pummel the ground where the black unmarked vans were parked. The commander notices a man was thrown back onto the stairs from the explosion. He hears the chaingun kick up and watches as tracer rounds streak toward the stairs, killing the formally dressed gaurds but missing the blowen back large black mass. He looked up at PL one and watches thier chaingun mow down a sentry on the second floor balcony and several snipers on the roof.

"Pilot, hover over the front. Ill drop and insert through the front."

"Uh, yes sir."

The commander turns to his squad. "Jenkins, you are in command until we meet up. Continue on with the mission as described. There is something I must see to."

"Yes, sir!"

"PL two to Sandman. Whats the status of the grid?"

Harvey answers. "Sandman to PL two, grid is ours to control."

"Roger, PL2 out." The co-pilot opens a small laptop and accesses the buildings security system. "Commander, we now control the security system."

The pilot interupts. "Commander, you can drop now."

"Thank you pilot." The commander released a drop line, then took hold of it, and slid down the the street. He signaled to the co-pilot with a thumbs up and the Pav Low continued on with its mission.

The commander ran up the stairs and stopped at the large black mass. It's a man in powered armour.

"... Commander Javis? You... why are you... *cough* in OIS uniform? You.. you are with-" Javis unholstered his pistol and shot the man in the face, once.

"Bastard. Should have kept quiet and you might have survived." Javis holstered his pistol and walked into the building.

Back in Pav Low Two
"Ok boys, we're in position for the drop. Good luck." The co-pilot gave a thumbs up. One by one the ropes fell and one by one they repelled to the second floor windows.

Pav Low One
"LT. Haros, we are over the courtyard now, secure for hard landing."

"You heard the pilot, secure boys! We're going in through the courtyard entrances. No blast doors so we have to watch our backs while we clear and secure the first floor. Get ready! Judgement day is coming!" Haros secures himself as does his squad.

ISA Perimeter Control Team

Operations Commander Frederick Ghast stood by the side of the black van, reading the data the scrolled by his tactical glasses, and watching the park visitors through the glasses NVG software. The Transnapastain capital was definitely an orderly place, as the local security forces kept vagrants at bay with high powered weapons. Ghast smiled slightly, noticing three of the OIS officers on patrol staring at the tremendous surveillance van, with no plates, tinted windows, and an ISA bumper sticker. Like all things in the ISA, it was shadows and mirrors, and the real surveillance was happening from a series of mobile sedans throughout the area, being coordinated through stations in the province, and bounced back to Kaukolastan for real time relaying. But, the OIS expected the ISA to bring its black vans, so Ghast had subtly complied, placing the obviously ill-intentioned vans in curious locations, such as beneath bridges, in ponds, and inside the OIS’s own headquarters garage. It’s like a little game of hide-and-seek.

The OIS had found all but the van buried inside of the refuse pile to the south, and the one that had been assembled from parts inside of an emergency stairwell in the subway. Each van held a random type of cargo, from pinball machines to five hundred weasels. The vans were labeled one through thirteen, and fifteen, so that the OIS would have to constantly look for fourteen. After each van had been located, Ghast had received an increasingly irritated call from an OIS bureau chief, and proclaimed his innocence.

All of this was to be expected, of course. Over the centuries of its existence, the ISA had developed its own interior culture, including a communal sense of humor. Stemming from its vocation as well as its lifestyle, this sense of humor was dark, ironic, and loaded with practical jokes. Of these jokes, death was the greatest punch-line, especially delivered in an obscure, ironic, or gruesome manner. If those could be combined… all the better. However, that was a joke that could not be had, but only crafted against enemies. So, the ISA gave to their allies an almost unending stream of friendly ribbings, from filling an office with mutilated crash test dummies, to building a mock Santa’s Sleigh and shooting it down publicly. These were not “normal” jokes by any means, but they were the common form of ISA “gotchas”. On this expedition alone, the ISA had played “Where’s Waldo” with the vans, demanded tribute from local charities, and placed spinning rims on several OIS vans and sedans.

It was almost cued, then, when the three OIS officers approached Ghast. The first asked, “Sir, what van is this?”

Ghast shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Number Two. Look at the sign.” He pointed to the stenciled two on the side.

“We were afraid you might have changed the number on us again.”

“That was last time, at the arms convention.” Ghast explained. “We don’t repeat.”

“Yes, sir. What was in here, again?”

Ghast knocked on the metal, and the door swung open on the back. The three officers glanced in, spotting the five hundred copies of the “Dogs Playing Poker” poster. The first glanced back to Ghast, who was calmly smoking. “You’re all sick, sir.”

The second officer asked, “Weren’t there three thousand posters, earlier? I thought there were more stacks than this.”

Ghast shrugged. “I don’t remember those. Maybe you’re thinking of something a tourist had.” He smiled politely, and the three officers gave him a horrified glance in unison.

But despite all the ribbing, Ghast was still here to maintain the security for the Kaukolastani delegation. Although Field Commander Darius was running the personal detail inside the compound, Ghast controlled the main detachment, and held lateral command over Darius, albeit temporary. He put the cigarette out on the back of his own hand, and tossed it into the pristine street. At the exact moment when the three officers glanced in horror at the litter on the Capital's street, Ghast signaled, and three more vans screeched to a stop.

By the time the three operatives whipped their heads back up, the vans had formed a perimeter. The doors flew open, revealing racks of surveillance gear, high powered weaponry, and a vault of VIPER gear. Ghast smiled and pointed to the nearest van, painted as a plumbing utility vehicle. “This is the real deal. I assume you’re here for inspections?”

“Uh… yes, sir.” Two of the men moved out to check the equipment, as suited ISA agents stepped from the trees and vehicles.

Ghast handed over his PDA. “You’ll find everything’s in order. Microwave transmitters, radar, lidar, laser microphones, parabolic microphones, advanced sensor packages, all sorts of optical gear… it’s the works. The authorizing papers are on that PDA as well.” He shrugged. “Feel free to poke around.”

As the inspection continued, Ghast watched as the moon emerged from the clouding skies, silver against steel gray. He pulled another cigarette from his sleeve and raised his Zippo. He rolled the striker, and the spark caught in the gasses, reflecting from his black sunglasses and shining upon his black mustache and goatee. From that flicker, there was a counter-flicker, magnified by the NVG in his glasses, echoing from the sky.

From reflex, Ghast glanced back to the sky, seeing, in just a moment, the dark shape moving against the lunar image. Then the shape was gone, back into the cloud banks. Ghast turned to the last OIS officer. “You normally run Pave Low patrols?”

“Sir? Why would we send deep strike choppers over the capital?”

“Because one just flew over us.” Ghast grimaced and turned to the second van.

A voice called from inside. “It’s legit, sir! It was broadcasting a DDF signature.” An analyst came running, carrying a PDA with a full readout.

Ghast glanced at the OIS man, “Guess it was a need to know flight. Wonder if someone got drunk at the party and needed a medivac.”

There was a muttered reply that Ghast couldn’t catch, but picked out the word “Executor”. To that, he stifled his knowing grin and continued to smoke. “Nice night, Agent.”

“Aye, sir.”

Silence hung over the park for a few moments, and then a sudden call from the second van shattered the reverie. “Commander! We’ve got a catastrophic failure on all the life sign monitors but Darius’!”

Ghast bounded into the van, swiveling one of the mounted chairs around and dropping into position. He glanced at the monitors, all showing blue screens. “What happened?”

“It appears that almost all of our men went into a coma… could be gas.” The Analyst glanced back to Ghast, hoping for reassurance that this was just a test. On the screens, over thirty of the displays showed low signs, indicative of a sleeping person. The only life sign monitor normal was Darius’. Ghast reached for the radio. Without warning, half the screens cut to black, and then to the blue error messages. Audio dissolved into white noise, and optical feeds turned into color test displays. “Holy shit!” An Analyst exclaimed, “We just lost our feeds!”

Ghast spun to the man, “What happened now?”

“No idea, sir. It’s as if the entire building went into lockdown. ECM is in full effect, and we can’t put a signal through the jamming.” The Analyst bit his lip. “The life-sign monitors are offline now, too.”

“Damn it!” Ghast turned to the OIS agent. “I hope this isn’t your idea of a counter-prank, because this is not amusing.”

“No clue, sir.” The agent glanced around the van. “May I?” He pointed to a phone.

“Go ahead.” Ghast turned back to the screen as the other man called his own agency. “Do we still have courtyard views? External teams?”

“All external teams are reporting in fine. Several of them have LOS on the courtyard, and they’re reporting no activity. We’re linking through the Nova Hope systems to get a closer- holy shit!” The monitors came alive with status reports as weapons fire erupted in the airspace. The Nova Hope van exploded into a glorious fireball, and the two Pave Lows were silhouetted for a brief moment before the transmission cut out. More monitors turned blue, and the hum of white noise filled the van.

Ghast’s face turned pale, and he nearly bit his cigarette in half. “Call Command, report in. Get the status reports from Transnapastain, and whatever freedom to act we can secure.” He triggered his earpiece, “All teams, this is Operations Commander Ghast. We have a condition X-ray. All teams are authorized to fire. Close the perimeter.”

There was a return transmission, “Sir, isn’t this OIS jurisdiction? This is their capital.”

“Well, being as they couldn’t stop a team from assaulting their own capital, I think we should be the kind neighbors and show them how this is done.” Ghast’s expression was an arrogant smirk, a raging glower, and an icy mask all at once. He turned to the OIS man. “What’s your plan, Agent? And it better be good, because we’ve all got a lot of big players in there.”

At a young twenty four years of age this was the biggest responsibility Sergeant Davis Cartwright had everything had thing in the world going for him. When the monitors read unconscious and the mike picked up that sickening bludgeoning noise from the PM’s sub-dermal mike he was the one who had the door handle waiting for the breech order. His helmet recorded the go order from his commander. Order received the sergeant flung open the van door, and was thrown forward with a blazing heat at his back. Blacking out for a second he came to on the stairs a good distance away from where he was a moment before. The suit had revived him with a stimulant while simultaneously administering local anesthetics to, what the suit reported, as several large hole’s in his back and possible organ failure due to trauma. Shrapnel blew open the back of the armor. As he tried to look about a familiar face looked over his prone form. Recognizing him from a briefing that happened, what seems like years ago, the sergeant drugged and delirious began to mumble.
"... Commander Javis? You... why are you... *cough* in OIS uniform? You.. you are with-"
BLAM!

Excerpt of suit OS coding at that moment

Life signs terminated…
Unit damage severe…
Full systems diagnostic…
Done…
Personnel Status: Confirmed death of Sergeant Cartwright, Davis 22:34; Unit status: Recoverable; Link to CnC: Lost…
Cmd? Passive observation for friendly recover…
Entering passive mode: Microwave feed; Radio feed; video feed; Audio feed…
Audio Input: "Bastard. Should have kept quiet and you might have survived."…
Flag: Possible enemy recovery of unit; Encrypting files and disabling systems…

End Excerpt

Javis slowed to a steady walk as he crossed the threshold into ground zero, the Great Hall. His mind raced with images of the black mass that was a man in powered armour from Nova Hope. I didnt plan to kill anyone that wasn't the Transnapastaini Chancellor. But that bastard couldn't live with the knowledge of who was really running the show around here.

A projector in the far left corner of the Great Hall came to life; streaming live feed of a news report. Javis stared at his own face projected on the large wall of the Great Hall behind the Chancellors chair. The lights dimmed to allow better viewing of the televised projection. Javis stroked his chin with his left hand and placed his right hand on the pistol holstered on his left hip.

"This week in Transnapastain, an APB was passed on to our government by neighboring country Nailiak. Commander Javis, head of Nailiak Foreign Relations, has turned traitor to his own nation and went into hiding. Nailiakan officials report he stole several classified documents concerning Transnapastain. Further information has been said to be on a "need to know basis". A hot line has been set up..." The news report trails off in Javis' mind.

Great. Now the entire Directorate must know of my actions. We must press forward with this operation as quickly as possible. That explains why that bastard in the armour recognized me. He must have thought I was still with the NFR. Javis thinks for a moment. He touches his face with his right hand and stretches the skin as it slowly sides down until it stops at his chin where it forms a cup around it. He sighs. If Nailiakan government officals have managed to piece together a brain and have figured out the pattern in the papers I stole, I fear we may have unexpected visitors soon. Javis looked up at the second floor balcony, his hand still cupped where his chin was. Echos of rapid foot movement filled the Great Hall as the troopers from Pave Low Two filed in and secured the balcony area above. I wonder where the Pave Low One squad is.

OIS Command Center
Transnapa City
Transnapastain

“Wait, wait wait!” said Colonel Mills, “You’re telling me there’s Surveillance Vans parked all over the city…and they were that easy to spot? Also, they put spinners on our cars, and robbed charities?”

Major Ehite, Officer on Duty for the night, stood at attention before Mills’ desk replied

“Sir, we’ve got vans all over the city, we have them all tracked, and located, save for van #14, we still cant find it. Being that there’s ISA bumper stickers on them all…. and there all full of odd things…like weasels, and pinball machines…id say we’re the victims of another ISA practical joke fest…”

“At least they didn’t blow anything up…” replied Mills

“Sir.”

“So, what about the 14th van? Any idea where it may be?” asked Mills

“Uh, no sir, currently, we’re dragging the river, checking in the subway tunnels, inside buildings…” replied Ehite

“What the hell for?” he asked

“Considering we found one in a pond, another one under a bridge, and, one right here inside HQ, not to mention the one we found on the roof of the hospital, inside of a warehouse, and on a freighter…and we suspect there’s one inside of a landfill, UNDER the trash, we have to look everywhere!” replied the officer

“Dear Lord….these people.” Said Mills

At that moment, another officer ran into the room, she skidded to s stop in front of the desk, and saluted hastily

“Sir!” she cried “We’ve lost security contact with the Capital Building.

That’s not good, those networks don’t fail….

“Get the ground team reporting, what’s going on out there?” said Mills, jumping to his feet

from the situation room outside, a operator reported

“Sir, Perimeter Teams report the building has entered a lock down---
At the same time, another Operator cried out

“Sir, our airspace ahs been compromised! ISA teams and OIS teams are both reporting incoming attack craft, Pave Low type helicopters, headed right for the Capital building!

“Sir, the guards at the Capital are under attack, reporting heavy fire, heavy weapons being used.”

“We got reports flooding in, ISA reports that the Nova Hope body guards are all dead, belay that, we may have one survivor, he was thrown clear, and landed on the capital steps. They’ve deployed troops into the building, we’re locked out!” reports an officer

“Holy God, terrorists have seized control of the building!” said Colonel Mills

“Order, sir?”

“Get the OISCRU units out there, cordon off the area for 10 blocks, evac all civilians present. Get Air Fleet on the horn, and tell them to shoot down those Pave Lows, and get CAP up, find out why we didn’t see them coming, get me a list of all the people in there…and, for God sake, please tell me there’s a higher ranking officer than myself not at that party…”

“Sorry sir…you’re it, the closest officer is General Offerin, at Valhalla, and weather conditions can not permit aircraft departures at this time.” Replied Major Ehite

“Damnit, well, get the hostage negotiators out there, encircle the building, and, pray.”

At the Capital

The shooting had all but subsided, and the teams were beginning to regroup, within minutes, regular OIS police units, OISCRU teams, and regular military began to appear on the scene.

The building was totally surrounded, searchlights played over the shuttered windows, the night was filled with the flashing lights of police lights, and the sound of jet engines high up in the sky.

Major Mills stepped out of his car, and immediately took command of the situation.

“What have we got?” he asked the officer he relived

“Not much more than before.” Replied Lt Colonel Carver, commandeering officer of the OISCRU teams present. “ISA teams are on station too, the Nova Hope team has been completely obliterated, the only intact body has been recovered, he’s a mess though.”

“For now, we wait, we cant storm the building, there’s too many important lives at stake in there.” Said Mills

Many kilometres away in an NNAO relay base

Relay base #213 was linked to the van in Transnapa City when the signal was lost. It raised an eyebrow to be sure. Switching onto the OIS network to get a confirmation on the black throne’s van the dispatcher’s jaw dropped. Reading the reports quickly and bring up other relevant data he watched the video file of the attack on the van. Quickly rolling his chair down the row of computers he picked up the red phone at the end,
“RB213, get me section director Baiko Uno.”

An upscale dwelling in Nieuw Rotterdam

Section Director Uno was dead asleep when the phone rang. Normally he would’ve slept right through it but the special ring was sounded. Installed onto his phone so that he’d know when a secure line was connecting to him the ringer sounded very ominous considering it was lighter and had more of a jingle than the normal ringer. Uno caught the phone before it had a chance to ring again.
“Baiko go.”
“Sir we have confirmation of a terrorist strike in Transnapa City. The Black Thrones have been neutralized and our eyes are in the area are closed. The PM has been taken captive, I repeat the PM has been taken captive.” There was silence on the line for almost five seconds before the dispatcher at RB213 spoke again.
“Sir can I have a confirmation that you head that?”
“I heard it dammit! I want you to fully integrate with both the OIS and the ISA as far as they’ll let you, I want eyes again. Get me a status report that I can give to the Eôsphoros, he’s going to want to get involved on this one. Set up to receive more uplinks we’re going to be putting more people in over there. NOW!” Hanging up the phone Uno went to his closet to immediately get dressed while his phone dialed the Eôsphoros, who picked up while he was putting on his pants.
“Wilsey.”
“Sir we have a situation in Transnapa City the…”
“I know,” Uno paused one leg in his pants and one leg out,
“You know sir?”
“I was watching the wires. The president is expecting you to deliver a report to him, a private jet is waiting at the airport, you need to be on it in twenty minutes. I’ve already dispatched a group of agents to site.”
“Oh, what’s their ETA sir?”
“The first group will be arriving within the hour, they’re being sent via blackbird, the second group will be a couple of hours and will have the equipment needed for the operation.” With that the line went out as the Eôsphoros disconnected. Uno paused before pulling his shirt over his head, Damn the President of the Dominion of Nova Hope,…

Flight of three blackbirds entering Transnapastainian airspace

“This is Lifeline-1 to Transnapastainian air traffic control broadcast flight path to Transnapa City we are coming in.”
“Roger that this is air traffic control be advised the capital is under strict air control and we may be forced to view deviations from the flight plan as hostile intent.”
“Lifeline-1 Copy.”
“We are broadcasting flight plan now, you will be monitored by the ground and escorted.”
*chuckle* “Well control they’re welcome to try and keep up, be advised our speed is in excess of 3,200 kph. Our ETA to Transpana City is forty five minutes.”

Maher Airport
Transnapa City

The Maher airport was Transnapa City’s main airport, with 11 runways, it was the largest airport in the country. All civilian runways were built to military standard, to be used in times of emergency. Maher was closer to the city than Shiner Air Fleet base, and only 2 miles from the Capital Building, therefore, the OIS had co-opted runways 6 through 11, a terminal building, control tower, parking aprons, and several hangers for the military to use as a staging point, as well as for incoming intelligence agents for foreign nations. They could be shuttled to OIS HQ from here, or to the Capital Building

The area was swarming with men and machines. I-1 Interceptors and FB-41 Warriors landed, refueled, and took off again. SR-39 Overseers flew patrols around the city, watching for any incoming craft. AH-71 Wrath gunships patrolled around the target zone. Military vehicles littered the unused parking aprons, APC’s, trucks, Black Hawk helicopters, and a few M1A2 Tanks sat scattered about.

Standing on the balcony of the control tower, hands clasped behind his back, Colonel Rotan looked out over the chaos. An officer approached him from behind, without turning. he asked

“Why are there tanks here?” asked Colonel Rotan

“Sir, you know how the Marines are….they most likely drive those tanks home, and have gun racks holding LAW’s in their trucks.” Suggested an Air Fleet lieutenant

Rotan sighed, and muttered something about unintelligent jarheads, he spun suddenly, startling the LT, who stepped back a step, Rotan smiled, a wicked looking smile

“You have something to report?” he asked

“Y…Y...yes Colonel, we have a report from airspace monitoring station 178, they report clearing 3 SR-71 Blackbirds for vectors to the Maher airport, IFF tags them as Nova Hope, cargo is Intelligence Teams, ETA is 45 minutes.” Reported the lieutenant

OIS Colonel Rotan nodded “Alright, prepare the number 7 runway to receive them, divert patrols to runways 10 and 11 for refueling, and get a welcoming committee ready, have some information ready for them when they get here.”

“Yes sir.” Replied the LT

40 minutes later

“Attention incoming flight of SR-71’s, this is Maher Airport, change heading to Oh One Nineer, reduce speed, you are 5 minutes out, and on the money, begin final decent, we’ll have coffee and dugouts for you, Maher out.”

Supra, Nailiak's Capitol city.

Chancellor Kailian paces around his office.

"Chancellor? What bothers you?"

Kailian freezes and looks up at his assistant. His face turns red and the frown on his face becomes more intense. "I do not pay you to pry into my affairs." His attention returns to the floor.

The assistant bows slightly, her face full of fear. "I-I-I apologize. It is my duty to help and I only wish to fullfil my job." She takes a single step back. "If you wish, I shall leave you alone."

Kailian looks back up at her. "Go, leave now. Send in Forester."

"Yes, Chancellor." She bows again and leaves the room in a hasty manner.

Kailian stares at the floor. The pattern of red and black alternating square tiles reminds him of his childhood home. He walks over to the large bay window, which has black curtains drapped from the center of the window and flaring out to the sides. He watches the hussle and bussle of Supra from four stories above the streets. He spots a street race inprogress and watches on with curiousity. Both members are equally matches it appears, yet, suddenly, one is enveloped in a brilliant wild flame. Moments later, a black and smaller variant of the Pave Low, emerges from between two buisness buildings. The living racer begins to swerve and dodge down alley ways and side streets, trying to avoid the small Pave Low which is tailing close behind. He loses sight of the car, but spots the explosion seconds later. The sight of the dancing flames brings a smile to his face.

"Those fools. We have designated street racing areas for them, yet they still choose to defy and attempt to race down non-designated roads." A hand rests firmly on his left shoulder. He turns his head to see Commander Yarling Forester, Jarvis' replacement, smiling and staring out at Supra.

"I agree, Chancellor, they are fools. We give and we give, yet they still are not satisfied." Forester looks at him. His mustache was curled at the ends. It reminded him of an old fictional picture book he had read as a child, The Civil War. "What is bothering you, Chancellor?"

"There is a great disturbance in-"

"The force?" Forest erupted into laughter.

"No, you fool. This is a serious matter! Transnapastain's capitol is under attack! It's all over the OIS and ISA fequencies." Forester stops laughing, clears his throat, and removes his hand from Kailian's shoulder. "You are to take a squad of NERDS, god I hate that acronym, and get our delegate out of there. (OOC: Nailiak Extraction, Recovery, and Demolition Soldiers.)

"Yes, Chancellor. My apologies, sir. I shall leave at once. I will not fail."

"Many brave men have spoken that line before. I hope to see that you succed where they have failed."

Forester swallows hard. "Yes, sir." He bows and turns around. He pauses for a moment. He started to say something but was cut off.

"Good luck, my friend." Kailian stared at Supra. "I will be here, hoping for your return." He turned around and patted Forester on his back.

Forester sighed and walked out of the room.

Transnapastains Capitol

Jarvis is pacing around the courtyard entrance, waiting for team one to report in.

"Commander! We have a concious hostage!" Jarvis turns around and spots team one jogging down the hallway from the courtyard. Two people, one male and one female both dressed in formal wear, emerged from the between the soldiers.

"Well, well, well. If isn't Mr. Hank Moore, but wait. Who is this? A concubine of yours, perhaps? Quite a beautiful thing, she is."

"Commander! The airways are full of reports of us! We have to step this up! There are incoming!"

Jarvis looks up at squad two, then down at squad one. "Johnson, take these hostages and secure a bathroom. The rest of you get those damn cameras up and get us ready to boradcast." Jarvis takes out his commlink as his squad scatters. "Harvey, lock us down. We have incoming."

His commlink squelched. "Roger! building lockdown enganged. AA is online and under our control but Ill need a while to override the IFF transponder." Sound of closing blast shutters filled the Great Hall and the lights dimmed.

"You got ten minutes!" Jarvis pocketed his commlink and ran over to Chancellor Alexander. "Religious bastard." He proped the Chancellor up and tied his hands and legs to the chair while ranting about religious fanatics.

In a bathroom of the Great Hall.

"Get in there you son of a bitch!" The soldier kicks Lynsi into the bathroom, then grabs Hank by the collar of his suit and drags him inside. Lynsi scrambles across the floo and curls up under a sink. Hank joins her and takes her hands in his.

The soldier looks at the two of them huddled under the row of sinks. "Aint that just f***ing precious?" He turns to the row of stalls and kicks in the door.

Transnapa City

The black birds had begun decelerating over the city to reduce damage and make their approach more manageable. Despite the cautious attempts some windows were blown out of in the city below. Taxiing into the designated runway the black birds skittered to a stop in the parking area. With the metal in the plane still emitting waves of heat the canopy opened and the two men in each plane could be seen gathering cases. Shirking what looked very similar to the helmets used in the infantry suits the men hopped down from the plane before the ground crews could even put the ladders in place. Taking in the scene quickly with an expert eye the lead agent, Joseph Gerald Arseneaux, lead the other five towards the control tower. Met out on the tarmac by an OIS operative Arseneaux spit out a rough French accent,
“O est in charge?” The OIS officer was taken aback by the snarl. Taking a second to compose himself his eyes ran over the PDA he was carrying.
“Est dat pour us?” The officer stumbled on his words before replying,
“Ahh, ye-yes. Colonel Rotan wanted…” The large Frenchman moved like a cat and the PDA was taken and passed back to one of the other agents in the formation towards the control tower. That agent quickly slipped a P-HUDD out of his flight suit and began scanning the information into their database visually. In unison all the other NNAO agents flipped their P-HUDDs onto the bridge of their nose and began to read the info as it was scanned in.
“Where est dis Rotan?” The OIS officer seeing that they had no real time for him motioned towards the control tower and fell into the formation of men headed towards Colonel Rotan’s position.

Nova Hope City

The President had just been briefed and Uno could tell he was enraged. What’s worse is he got redder and redder, until he stopped calmed himself and launched into a tirade of undeniable but obvious arguments.
“We sent a minimal security force as a gesture of good faith. Our Prime Minister was sent because he had the authority to speak for the country. And that damn OIS they were in charge of security, this was their capital for gods sakes! They talk about how efficient and effective they are but here we are, a terrorist has stolen some of the must powerful people in The Directorate right out from under their noses.” Stopping to drain a mug of coffee passed to him by an intern he turned back to Uno, Get me the OIS officer that the Transnapastaini are going to offer to me as accountable for this,… incident.”
“I’ll call now sir.”

A Nameless Men’s Bathroom
Chancellery Building

“-you son of a bitch!” The door to the bathroom crashed open, and a woman shrieked as she fell to the floor. Inside the second stall, Darius gripped the coat rack on the door, and pulled his feet from the ground, hiding flush to the swinging door. His muscles were tensed, his eyes narrowed beneath the strands of black hair that hung through his glasses. Three people. That poor woman, another hostage, and the attacker.

“Ain’t that just fucking precious?” The soldier snarled, and Darius could pick out both male and female whimpering. Ok, asshat, you’re a dead man. He could hear the footsteps on the tile, and the door to the room swinging closed. With another crash, the first stall door slammed open from a kick, and Darius tensed. Brace…

The soldier grunted at the empty stall, took three steps, and the door Darius hung on blasted open. Darius swung into the back of the door, moving from the impact, so that he would not muffle it. The soldier grunted again, and took three steps. Darius dropped silently from the door, stepping towards the main room, even as the next stall crashed open. The man grunted a third time, and took two steps. By step three, he was dead.

Darius moved with lightening speed and trained lethality, snaking from the doorway as the man turned his back, reaching out in a harsh parody of a hug. The Snap of the shattering neck resounded in the bathroom, and Darius pulled the man to the ground. Fishing his pistol from his suit coat, he turned to the hostages. He smiled grimly and simply stated, “Please remain quiet for the duration of this rescue operation.”

Then he bent back to the dead man, stripping the armor clean, then the BDUs. He pulled on the soldier’s uniform, thankful for the heavy OIS issue armor the man wore. Transnapstain Intelligence shock combat outfit, but not an OIS officer. They aren’t allowed to have piercing. This man had not only both ears pierced, but a distinguished snaking tattoo that did not belong on an Intelligence agent. Who the hell are they, and how did they get OIS gear?

Finishing his search, he found no identification, but he did keep the M8A1 the man carried. Directorate Rifle and all. These guys are good. Tucking his own Sag Commando under his now armored uniform, he smiled grimly at the gas mask in his hands. This will conceal me and muffle my voice, but it will only be a matter of time before they manage to figure out that I’m not on the right patrols.

He climbed onto the toilet, and stuffed the body into the ceiling, pulling the tiles back into place, and then dusting his gloved hands. “Good clean work.” He stated, admiring the lack of blood for a second. He exited the stall again, the mask around his neck, decked out in the black armor. Turning once again to the hostages, he asked, “So, are you alright… Mr. Moore? Ma’am?”

Before they could respond, he pulled the mask over his face and sealed it. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow and metallic. “I’m sorry to do this, but you’re going to need to keep quiet, and say you saw nothing. I’ll be back for you.” With that, he slipped through the door, pulling it shut behind him. As he entered the hallway, he slung his M8A1 over his back, turning on the helmet’s receiver, but not the transmitter, and still keeping his earpiece online. Jamming. I need to find an open air location. I also need to find out who these people are… the ball room is the most likely target.

Darius headed for the main reception room, where the sleeping guests awaited.


Corsingard
ISA Headquarters

“-fucking lovely mess we got here, Director.” Sub-Director Allens declared. “Hostages, hijacked frequencies, dead allies… major FUBAR. This is the example of Directorate security we’ve presented? Lovely, I tell you.”

Allens was standing in front of Director Kerrik’s large oak desk, swearing profusely and pointing to his PDA with growing violence as the reports flooded in. But Kerrik simply sat there, serenely contemplating the circumstances. The Director glanced up from his reverie and spoke softly, “We have an agent inside alive, no? Darius, nonetheless?”

“As far as we know. He could have just been late to fall into the coma-“

“Nonsense, Allens. Darius is alive, and even now, he will be searching for a way to contact us… once he has information to deliver.” Kerrik spoke with certitude turning to watch the night sky through his false skylight. “This illusion of light does not warm the soul like true nature.”

“Sir?” Allens cocked his head to the left, not understanding the Director’s statement.

Kerrik turned back to Allens, his face cast in the harsh break of shadows and light, his dark eyes pits against his pale skin, and his collar forming an armored line against his chair. “The OIS has failed to secure the area, and will be hard pressed to calm the populace. We will be called upon to aide. We must act with extreme prejudice, to secure the good name of this alliance. They have forced our hand, but with out man inside, we hold every card we need, and this entire charade will not last. Deploy three teams… with OIS consent, of course… and tell them to prepare for a Delta Zero order.”

“Sir?” Allens took a step back.

“We do not oppress any particular religion. This is a secular terrorist act, and most secular attacks are ethnic in nature. I do believe we have an ethnic weapon? Get samples, and prepare for the Delta Zero.”

“Yes, sir.” Allens nodded, almost in reverence. “I’ll give the order.”

“They may think they know what the game is… but they have never played against the ISA.” With that, Kerrik turned away as his second in command departed, glancing back to the false window and contemplating the night.

Maher Airport
Transnapa City

“Sir, the Blackbirds have landed.” Reported a Air Fleet lieutenant

Colonel Rotan stood from his desk. “Good, Tell them we’re planning a meeting for 23:30 in Hanger 18, until then, if he wants to speak to me, he can find me here, Get the ISA here, and have Colonel Mills send someone over, or come himself. ” said Colonel Rotan

“Sir, yes sir!” replied the lieutenant

The Lieutenant left the office, on his way out, he passed Arseneaux in the hallway

“Oh sir, I…” started the lieutenant

The Agent glared at him, and continued towards Colonel Rotan’s office

The lieutenant continued on his way until he found a radio and contacted Colonel Mills, and asked him to send an a rep to the meeting

He then contacted Operations Commander Ghast

“Sir, this is Maher Airport calling, OIS Colonel Rotan has requested you, or a representative in your place, presence at a strategy meeting at 23:30, here, in Hanger 18.” He said

“Oh, good, finally getting around to doing something about the situation?” asked the officer “Someone will be there…” he said, and disconnected

The Lieutenant sighed, today wasn’t his day at all…

OIS Central Command
Alexander City

“You have reached OIS Central Command.” said a friendly sounding female recording. “Currently the OIS is operating at, Code Red,” This is a distinctly different, male voice. “If you know you parties extension, please enter it now. If you do not have an extension, please hold for an operator.”

After about 10 minutes, and about 5 repeated messages of “The OIS cares about you, and your call, please stay on the line, someone will be with you shortly.” another friendly sounding female voice said

“Hello, this is OIS command, how may I direct your call?”

The voice on the other end was no where near as pleasant

“This is the President of Nova Hope, and I demand to speak to someone with authority right away!”

“One moment sir!” replied the voice

back on hold for 5 more minutes

“This is Captain Larkin, Operations.”

“I demand to know what’s happening in the Capital!”

“Sir, I’m afraid that’s on a need to know—“

“I am the President of Nova Hope, I think I need to know!”

From off to the side “Sir, his voiceprint matches….its him.”

“Ah, yes, I’m going to transfer you to the Valhalla Command Center, General Owen will be able to assist you better.”

15 minutes later, the call had finally been put though the various level of command until it reached Colonel Rotan

“Rotan!” he said

The same question, and demand

“Sir, I have you’re intelligence people on station, we’re preparing for a tactical meeting in one hour, We’re almost certain the hostages are still alive, What, I am going to do, is give you contact info for Colonel Mills, he’s on station at the scene right now, and can help you more than I.”

A brief minute later

“This is Mills, talk to me!”

((OOC: Ok Nova, if you have anything you wanted to ask, this is you’re place))

(OOC: MOTHER F***ING FORUMS! God, I had the whole mother f***ing thing writen out and when I go to post it, I gotta log in again. I try to go back to save my post. ITS F***ING GONE. Jesus tap dancing christ on a pogo stick. Here is a shorter version. F*** it.)

In the Bathroom

Lynsi was mortified. Her face was buried so deep into Hank's chest, it would take a plasma cutter to seperate them.

"Lynsi, we must get out of here. We cannot sit here and wait to be rescued. If that soldier is found out and killed, the rest will wonder what happened to the real solider and will come to us looking for the answer. We may end up dead during the questioning process." Her head shakes violently and her arms tighten around his waist. "Lynsi! Stop! I know you are afraid, but you must listen to me! We have to leave! Now!" He reaches down to his left pant leg and lifts it up, revealing a holstered PPK. "I'll make sure we get out alive. Please, trust me." Her head lifts from his suit, revealing a wet spot the size of a human head on the left side of his chest.

"H-h-how are we going to e-escape? You saw how many there are in the Great Hall." She wipes her eyes and sniffles.

His hand caresses her cheek, wiping away her tears. "Before we left for the airport, I studied a few maps of this building. There is a sewer entrance on the first floor in one of the janitorial closets. When we get there, we can get out through the sewers." He stands up, then reaches down and pulls her up. "We will get out alive. Just stick close and stay at my back side. If it makes you feel any better, take my hand. Just don't cut my circulation off." He flashed a small smile and slowly walked towards the door.

In the Great Hall

Jarvis walks over to Alexanders chair and stands infront of it, concealing the unconcious Alexander. From behind his back, he pulled out a gas mask and slid it down over his head and secured the straps around the sides of his neck. A soldier ran up to him and gave him a helmet, then began to walk backwards slowly towards the camera by the courtyard door. Jarvis put the helmet on and secured the straps under his chin.

Harvey ran into the Great Hall and tripped over an unconcious female. His face met with the face of an unconcious male which made him sick to his stomach. Blech! Nasty, nasty! I kissed an unconcious man! God damnit. Harvey picks himself up and kicks the male body, which flopps over face down. Harvey looks over at the female body. She was dressed almost like Alexander, only her clothes consisted of a dress and a rather extravagant hat. He looks over at Alexander and notices his hat is almost the exact same as hers. He looks back at her and bends down, then runs his fingers through her hair. He brushes it out of the way and exposes a wierd emblem. "Commander! Come check this chic out! Shes dressed up like Alexander! I think she may be the Vice Executor!"

"Later, you moron! Get into that EAS (OOC: Emergency Announcement System) and get us live! Now!"

Harvey jumped up and ran over to the closet camera. He pulled out a device link cable and hooked the remote for the security system into the camera. He went to activate the EAS but noticed the securty cameras had picked up a little something special. "Commander! We have some rather interseting footage here!" Harvey activates the camera and the wall projector comes to life with images of Alexander dancing on a table then kicking off a punch bowl. And that's when I came in and served the "special" punch.

"Enough, Harvey! Get us into that EAS!" His voice showed his impaitence.

"Yes, Commander" Harvey activated the EAS and gave the soldier next to him a thumbs up.

The soldier held up his left hand, towards Jarvis, with all five fingers extended. "Commander! We go live in 5-4-3-" He signs two-one, then gives a thumbs up. The camera lights turn red and the projector in the corner came to life. The Transnapastain flag appeares for a few seconds, then fades to Jarvis' figure.

"Attention! You attention please! I bring to you, my fellow Transnapastaini people, a chance to start a new begining in life!" He steps aside to the right, exposing the unconcious Alexander. "You have all been lied to! Even the OIS has been lied to! We refuse to be lied to any longer!" Jarvis pointed to Alexander. "This man is as much of a fool as he is old! Just look at him! This man is well past his days of usefulness. He couldn't even remember why he was hosting this part nor could he remember who it was hosted for! The OIS is tired of church officals lying to us as well as the people!" He pointed at the camera. "Watch this live footage from the party and see for yourself!" The footage shows Jarvis reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a Desert Eagle .50 and points it at Alexanders head. "Let the reformation begin! May a new, more competent leader arise from his ashes!"

Jarvis pulls the trigger. The hammer slams forward, sending the bullet flying through Alexanders head. The bullet exits from the other side and a fine red mist erupts from the hole. A split second later, blood begins to stream down the left side of Alexanders head. Jarvis pulls the trigger as fast as he can. The muzzle flashes reflect off his gas mask lenses, capturing Alexanders head jerking as each bullet breaks through the skull bone and rips apart brain matter. In each exit wound, large chunks of brain matter stream out with the flowing blood, spilling over the arm rest and dripping into puddles around the legs of the chair. It's almost a shame that all this blood will ruin his chair. It was a very nice chair, was.

Jarvis looks at the camera crews and signals to stop broadcasting by moving his hand from left to right across his neck in a cutting manner. He walked up to a soldier and pulled on his vest and brought him face to face. "Keep replaying the parts of Alexander being stupid at the party, then play the part where I shot him. Keep it on repeat." Jarvis pushed him away and went over to Harvey. "So, you think this bitch is the next in line for Executor?"

Transnapa City
Capital Building
Outside

“Ok, have snipers destroy the exterior cameras on the building, that should eliminate the terrorists ability to track us, also, we’re going to stage news crews out here, and we’re going to send them some faked information, to keep them totally off balance.” Said Colonel mills to his team leader.”

“Yes sir…one thing—“

“Sir!, we have a transmission coming from inside the Capital building, its on the EAS!

The Emergency Alert System was designed to warn citizens in case of a nation wide disaster, it hijacks anything with a transmitter and speaker, aside from military grade hardware. The terrorists could use it to speak to the entire nation at once.

“Oh crap…Quick, get on the horn to shiner Air Base and have them send up a F/B-41 with an ASAT missile and bring down that satellite!” called Mills

Across the square, the television mounted on the side of a building came alive. It showed the inside of the Great Room, and, a terrorist standing in front of the camera, in full combat armor, and gas mask. The armor, however…

“Oh shit, sir! That’s OIS combat armor, look, you can see the symbol—“ stammered Major Ehite.

“Shut up, Major, We need to hear this…” said Mills slowly, as if in shock

The other officers had turned to look now

They saw the terrorist step aside, to reveal the Alexander Simon slumped in his chair.

The terrorist began to speak

You have all been lied to! Even the OIS has been lied to! We refuse to be lied to any longer!" Jarvis pointed to Alexander. "This man is as much of a fool as he is old! Just look at him! This man is well past his days of usefulness. He couldn't even remember why he was hosting this part nor could he remember who it was hosted for! The OIS is tired of church officials lying to us as well as the people

With that, he pulled a .50 Desert Eagle, and shot Alexander Simon in the head once, and again, and again…

The OIS and military officers stared on in horror, then, suddenly; the camera cut to footage timed stamped an hour or so before hand, of Alexander making a fool of him

Someone in the crowd of military soldiers shouted towards the OIS officials

“You bastards, you kill him, you killed Alexander!” and raised his rifle to his shoulder

Mills and Ehite dove for cover behind the engine block of a squad car, drawing their pistols, Mills moved around the back of the car, Ehite leaned out around the front, they saw the offending Corporal still holding his rifle, an OIS agent in front of his, hands in the air. Behind him, several others, OIS and Military alike, had rifles aimed at the man, a Sergeant spoke up

“Corporal, you, will place your weapon on the ground, and lay down, with your hands on your head, do you understand?” he said

“No, Sergeant Evin, I wont, they killed him…he…he…” the man broke into tears, dropping his rifle to the ground,

The OIS and military men began to argue, throwing accusations back and forth

Crack

One rifle round was fired into the air

A Marine Sergeant Major was standing on top of a squad car, his M8A1 pointed into the air, lifted a bullhorn to his lips

“Listen up! There’s no way the OIS would do anything that stupid, there’s no way they kill out beloved leader! You all know that, now get back to the line, and hold your positions, you hear me! “

That seemed to quell some of the dissidence, the officers, and soldiers returned to their posts.

However, the civilians weren’t as easily convinced

Not 20 minutes after the video, the 1st reports of rioting began to come into police stations. Soon, most of the police, SWAT, OISCRU, and military we’re busy trying to subdue the populace. Soon it was obvious that the OIS were too over taxed to deal with the riots and needed all available units to maintain order

General Owen, acting OIS commander, did the only thing he could do

“This is General Owen, OIS, Get me Director Kerrik right away, we have an emergency.”

“This is Kerrik, go ahead.”

“Director, this is OIS, I’m asking your agency to please take charge of the rescue operation at the Capital, I know this is highly unorthodox , but, we’ve got massive internal problems, and we don’t have the manpower right now to handle both!”

V-30 Peregrine
Transnapastain Airspace

The V-30 Peregrine, like all of Kaukolastan’s military, was a cutting edge piece of technology, designed to maximize surprise, shock, and stealth. The Peregrine was sleek and angular, with multi-angled surfaces and radar absorbant materials. In addition to this stealthy design, the entire surface of the craft was covered in a series of micro-antennae. These sensors took in any incoming scan, and the Peregrine’s internal computer fed back destructive interference and misaligned data, rendering the V-30 a virtual null-zone on any form of radar or lidar. Propulsion was provided by four massive turbofans situated fore and aft of the lifting wing, and these massive fans vectored along two axes, giving lift and thrust, as well as brake, depending on alignment. To counter for the massive IR signature, the Peregrine generated a massive thermo-optic field, using magnetics to shift the heat and visible light spectrum into the ultraviolet. All of this allowed the Peregrine to combine VTOL versatility and standard aircraft utility, all wrapped into a stealthy package.

This adaptable and powerful design, albeit expensive, allowed the Peregrine to be configured in assault, transport, and command variants, all uniquely designed, but all sharing the same basic components of maneuverability, speed, and stealth. So, when four transports (V-30), two assault gunships (AV-30), and one command craft (CCV-30) passed over most of Transnapastain, the only people who might have noticed would be those watching for high UV emissions, or those who could triangulate that slight waver in the sky, like the air over blacktop in the distance, waving and shimmering.

Inside the lead Peregrine (CCV-30, designated Mother Bird), Sub-Director Allens hunched over a holographic display of the Capital. Around him, over two dozen ISA officers operated listening stations and sensor posts, more powerful and finessed than any E3 AWACS. The cockpit was accessible through a short stairwell and an open door, and inside, a pilot, copilot, and engineer operated the digital cockpit. All three wore helmets with interactive holo-HUDs integrated into the visors, and they kept a constant running chatter with the Transnapastain ground control.

Rather than force their allies to re-triangulate their position every second, the flight kept an open channel, and simply let the OIS “write in” the positions to ground control. The copilot turned back to Allens, pulling his headset mic from his face, his eyes still hidden behind the translucent visor, “We are approaching the last waypoint.” He turned back to his consoles. Outside the wrap-around cockpit view, the nighttime cloud cover rushed by, unencumbered by any HUD, which was cast directly to the pilots. The clouds broke, and Transnapa city was revealed, glittering against the darkness. The image seemed hazy, and couldn’t be focused upon, for the light was being bent by the magnetic field.

“Waypoint Juliet, reached.” The pilot declared. “Ground control has our clearances, and we’re cleared to land the transports.” On cue, the flight group broke apart, though no one below could know this. The CCV-30 continued on course, moving into a circular patrol, while the diamond formation of transports, flanked by the dual AV-30s, split off and banked towards the capitol. As they moved, their images began to waver harshly, then to flicker into grayscale images of Peregrines, before suddenly appearing in full glory on both IR scanners and in the eyes of those watching. The craft began to slow, their fans adjusting to forward and down, riding on tongues of white-blue flame as they lowered. The transports roared in, low and slow, over the park, the fans blasting the trees to the sides, scorching the grass, and sending plumes of steam from the pond, all before coming to a gentle vertical landing on their respective struts. The AV-30s hovered for a moment longer, guns ready, before fading back into wavering air and vanishing with a muffled roar.

From the transports, over two hundred ISA agents, ranging from hostage negotiators to Hunter Killer teams to VIPER soldiers, spilled forth, fanning to reinforce and relieve the OIS operatives on the scene. The gunships held silent patrols, and in the CCV-30, Allens watched his holographic display of the area, directing teams with a point and click interface. On the display, the floating miniature image of Ghast spoke, “Good to see you, Sub-Director. Will you be assuming direct command?”

“Negative, Ghast. I’m remaining airborne, to serve as C3 for the situation. You’re still in charge of ground forces. I trust all command has been transferred to our agents?”

“Affirmative. OIS is pulling back now, and it’s our baby. You see that last transmission from the terrorists?” Ghast grimaced as he flicked his cigarette.

“I did indeed.” Allens responded, glancing up at the grim replay of the execution. “We’ll be locking that signal out momentarily.” At the cue, the CCV-30 activated jamming systems, and the capitol was isolated. “There’s to be no more show and tell.”

“Thank you sir, we don’t another broadcast like that one. Do I have full discretion?”

“Affirmative, but hold off. Be prepared for a Delta Zero. We have deployed field kits to your location, with a Gamma strain.” Allens gripped the rails by the holo table. “We may have a man inside. Be watching, and be ready to use the asset. Allens, out.”

The transmission was cut, and the cold machinations of the ISA turned inwards, onto the capitol.

Transnapa City
Target Zone

“Attention inside the building, this is the Office of Internal Security, you are surrendered, you have no means on escape, signal your surrender by coming onto the roof, unarmed, with your hands above your heads, failure to comply will result in your arrest and execution, stand down immediately, you may not be harmed.”

An officer had spoken that same monologue every 5 minutes for the last hour and a half.

This city had fared well after the broadcast, Only a few civilians had taken to the streets in protest. Most people here were ranking military officers, clergy, and OIS officers, therefore, most of them knew better than to believe the OIS stupid enough to publicly execute a leader on television before the entire nation. The few people who had come out had been allowed the express their dissent, so long as it remanded on the far side of the picket line, and was non-violent. The crowd, no larger than 150 people, only had to have tear gas launched into it once, when a barraged of rocks soared in at an OISCRU van, breaking several window, the police had waded into the crows, electronic batons and riot shields in hand, under the cover of a team armed with sonic rifles, and plucked the offenders from the crowd, and taken them away. After that incident, the crowd became pretty begin, turning more attention to the hostage situation then shouting at the OIS.

The rest of the nation, however, wasn’t so lucky.

All across the country, fires burned and people rallied. The cities of Alexander, Maylor, and Jrout were the worst. Alexander, because its were the OIS was officially headquartered, Maylor, being the birthplace of Alexander, and Jorut, because of its poverty-stricken areas.

The Homeland Defense Force had been called up to augment the taxed military and police forces. OIS agents were being hunted down and killed in their homes, so, many were trying to make it to the safety of nearby airbases or police stations.

So far, the Air Fleet and Artillery Corps had refrained from bombardment and Napalm strikes, though, an area of Joru had been blanketed in tear gas and smoke. OIS armored cars and military police units were roaming the street, enforcing a state of martial law and evacuating stranded OIS officers, anyone found outside could be arrested, or shot, the decision was left solely to the officers on location. Helicopters circled overhead, announcing that martial had been declared and ordering people to return to their homes.

A shaky stability had been restored to most areas of the nation, a few skirmishes with protesters cropped up here and there. Though, it seemed that the population could snap at any minute…

In the air over Transnapastain

“This is Rapier 1, I am approaching the target zone, requesting permission to launch ordnance.” Said the F-15e pilot

“This is Observer 1-7, you are green for launch.” Reported the AWACS flying 500 miles away.

“Ah, roger that, Rapier 1, fox 2.” Replied the pilot

under the wing of his fighter, an engine flared, and an ASAT missile lurched forward, and up, it sailed away towards its target. The EAS satellite which had been broadcasting the execution of Alexander non-stop for the last hour. The other satellites had been disabled from the ground, and this one would soon be destroyed.

The missile impacted with its target, ripping into it, the satellite exploded in a plume of orange fire. As it feel from the sky.

“Rapier 1 reads impact on the target, reports destruction, Observer, confirm.” Radioed the pilot

“Confirmed on Radar, good job, pilot, head on home.” Replied the operations officer on the AWACS

Transnapa City
Target Zone

“Capital Forces, this is Maher airport, you have incoming ISA VTOL aircraft, ETA 30 seconds.” Squawked a radio

“Ah, negative, we aren’t seeing them, they ought to be in visual range, please check radar and confirm, Maher, over.” Replied the comms officer

“That is confirmed, switch to freq 134 and monitor.”

“Ah, copy that…” started the officer, when he saw three large craft materialize from nothing above him, his IR scanner suddenly lit up, the cigarette he had in his mouth dropped to the ground “Ah, we see em….CpF out.”

The VTOL’s settled to the ground, and ISA officers began to pour from them

Colonel Mills searched for the ranking officer, once he found him, he said

“Thank you for coming, ill be pulling these men out, so you can get settled in.”

“No problem, good luck, Colonel.” Replied the agent

Mills grabbed his radio and raised it to his lips
“Attention all Transnapastain forces, unless otherwise instructed, you are to proceed to your transports and return to Maher airport. This is a withdraw order, repeating, we are bugging out, and turning control over to the ISA. Check in.”

As the numerous squad leaders reported in, he walked back to his car, smoking a cigarette.

Slowly, a line of OIS and military cars and vans began to move away from the site. Remaining behind was one OISCRU team, and a detachment of Marine SP’s. The departing forces were returning to the airport command center to rest up. Most were being redeployed in 8 hours to Transnapa City, to augment the police and military on station. The rest were being dispersed through the nation, to assist in the various forces around the nation

This was going to be a very long night


((OOC, if anyone wants to have their people inside begin to wake up, its about that time ;) ))

Inside the Chancellery Building

“-remember why he was hosting this part nor could he remember who it was hosted for! The OIS is tired of church officials lying to us as well as the people!" The words echoed in the empty hall as Darius slipped through the balcony doors. The agent stayed to the shadows, not skulking, but simply maintaining a low profile as he moved between the pillars, as if on patrol with the others. Arriving at a large column, Darius peeked from behind it, watching the room below. A medium sized man in OIS shock armor like his own stood the sleeping Alexander, aiming a bulky pistol of foreign make at the leader’s head.

Oh, shit. Cameras, manned by more shock armored soldiers, were pointed at the Executor and his executioner. "Watch this live footage from the party and see for yourself!" The man snarled to the camera, and Darius could only imagine what was being played.

I’ve got to stop this. He knew what he should do, and he almost reached for his Sag Commando, but sense stopped him. It would be me versus over thirty people. I would die, and every hostage with me. I would save no one. So Darius gritted his teeth and watched the macabre scene before him, unable to stop it.

The man looked at the camera again, and Alexander seemed to quiver. The man almost bellowed, "Let the reformation begin! May a new, more competent leader arise from his ashes!" The pistol lowered, and with a sudden gout of fire, most of Alexander’s head vanished into a cloud of blood, bone, and brain. The slide snapped again and again, and the casings bounced down the steps of the throne, all while the executor gleefully unloaded the entire clip.

Darius swung back around the pillar, hiding from the room, trying to clear his head. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He shook his head. It’s a good guess where this is going. I need to get information out. Darius vanished from the room the way he had come, slipping back through the balcony door.

This time, he headed for one of the many gardens. The open air courtyard might allow a transmission, and he had to take that risk.

Darius moved through the halls, passing others in shock armor with nods and simple greetings, both parties muffled by masks. Reaching a garden, he checked the halls, and slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. He slid into the shadows between the many shadows, reaching under his mask to toggle his earpiece. Come on… The transmitter chirped a negative. Jamming. He rotated to another encrypted ISA frequency, hoping to slide a signal through the jamming. The earpiece chirped affirmative, and Darius sighed in relief, still watching the doors.

He stepped into the shaft of moonlight coming through the skylight and tapped his comm unit. He began to speak quietly, watching the doors nervously. “Emergency, emergency. Switch to protocol theta seven!” Darius whispered into the radio.

There was a series of clicks, and a voice came back. “Theta seven operational. Scrambling is active. Who is this?”

“Field Commander Darius. I’m inside, and in disguise.”

There was another series of clicks, and an older voice answered him. The man’s accent was a thick southern Valen drawl, turning every word into a multi-syllabic stretch of deliberate enunciation. “This is Operations Commander Ghast. You’ve activated Theta Seven, so we can’t be intercepted.”

”We can still be tracked, sir.”

”True, we have about three minutes before they can localize, though. What’s the SITREP?” The drawl was thick, and it called to mind images of Darius’s old Master Sergeant in the Geridan campaigns.

“Everyone was poisoned by the punch, but I skipped the toast. I eluded the attackers, and requisitioned a uniform and radio. Hold on!” Darius snapped his gaze to the side, watching a flag blow in the cold wind. “Ok, it’s clear. I’m undercover now, and they don’t know. They’ve locked down the complex, shutting the blast shutters and security doors. They’re also heavily armed. I’ve seen at least ten soldiers with LAWs, and at least one with a flamethrower. Oh, yeah… they blasted the Executor. That’s kinda important.” Darius’ voice was a blade of sarcasm.

“We saw that on the video they sent. Any ID on the attackers?”

”Negative. They’re in full combat gear, with gas masks. No ID on the one I took down. What’s the external SITREP? Why is the ISA talking to me, not the OIS?”

“The OIS is in a fucking mess. They’re shooting just about everyone that blinks the wrong way, and some things that don’t. They handed the situation over to us, as most of their command structure is inside and unconscious at best. We’re flying over hostage teams-“

“Won’t do any good. These guys came to kill. We’d be playing a damn game.”

”It’s a game the public demands, Agent. We’re also bringing in Sub-Director Allens. Kerrik’s afraid of a broader plot to lure in more Directorate leaders, so he’s remaining on standby in a command aircraft. We’ve got VIPERs on the perimeter, and we’ve got the building locked down with borrowed Transnapastain tanks, more VIPERs, and more marksmen than you could shake a stick at. A full Hunter Killer Team is inbound as we speak. We set jamming over the complex, so they can’t give us any more lovely videos.”

”Sir, they’re set for an assault. We’d lose a lot of people.”

”That’s why we need you inside, Darius. We’re gonna need you to open the shutters, but not until it’s ready. For now, we need to know who we’re dealing with. You still have your PDA?”

”Yes, sir.”

“We’re uploading data now, from an orbital LOS. There. You already have a map of the compound. I need you to get to the rooftop over the Eastern lobby, and we’ll shoot you a case containing a mobile DNA fingerprinting device. Collect it, and get a sample. Then, broadcast it to us.”

“What kind of external security do they have?”

“None. We’ve locked this area down completely. While we’re holding off the assault, we’ve ordered our snipers to blast anything that goes onto the roof. We’ve got AMRs, ACRs, and EMSRs, with qualified operators on every one. If any of the greasy bastards so much as pokes his head out of that compound, you will witness the largest game of co-operative whack-a-mole in the history of man!” Ghast snarled. As if to accentuate his point, there was a sharp crack in the background. “And Jackson just scored ten points!”

“How will the snipers know not to shoot me?”

”Transmit a hold order before you step out.”

”Comforting.”

”Best I can do.”

”We’re running out of time. They might be tracking. Darius out.”

”Good luck.”

The channel cut out, and Darius slid the radio back into his coat. He slipped back into the shadows, exiting the courtyard before a patrol could arrive.

Transnapa Airport (before the broadcast)

Colonel Rotan hadn’t been overly helpful, he merely relegated the Noviet agents to a lesser officer and informed them of the meeting time. The meeting was quick, efficient, and generally a waste of time as everyone there was fully informed and had just about as much info as everyone else, the downside of having a meeting involving true professionals. The NNAO agents took their leave of the airport after a quick pit stop at their black birds for their gear and suits. Once in their armor they flagged a passing Transnapastaini vehicle headed to the incident site. It was during the ride over there that the HUDs of all six suits picked up the emergency signal with the assassination of Alexander. Once it was obvious that it was on a loop the men looked at each other agape, not sure what to make of it Arseneaux ordered the driver to step on it.

Presidential Line

President: What the hell happened here!?!
OIS Officer: Well you see sir we have the situation well under..
P: I don’t want to hear shit about control, I want to know how the hell you fucked up on security of an event this big!
O: Well sir I wasn’t…
P: You weren’t what son? Sober?!?
*The sound of something being placed over the phone could be heard as well as some muffled profanities and a few sparse gunshots.*
P: What the hell is going on over there?!?!?
*click*

Outside the Chancellery Building
Ring Three
Sector One

The ISA had the area around the compound completely secured by now, and the area was filled with various agents with various tasks, moving in a rapid but not rushed pace. The area had been divided into four Rings. The epicenter was classified as Ring One, and this included the Chancellery building and its grounds. No one was inside that zone but the terrorists, the hostages… and Darius. Ring Two was the primary staging and defense zone, and it extended into the closest few lines of buildings, plus the outlying compounds. It was being used to stage incursions into Ring One, and for the numerous firing positions, both on the ground and in the buildings. Ring Three was the Command, Control, and Communications area, and it was the largest ring, extending through the parks, sewers, and airspace. The comms tents, vehicle garages, and briefing zones were here, as well as armories and several field hospitals. Ring Four was a buffer zone, one hundred meters thick that acted as a DMZ. Any citizen entering the Ring would be put down before they were even near the more sensitive Rings. Beyond the rings, the civilians waited.

Each Ring, then, was divided into quadrants, labeled Sectors One through Four for tracking purposes. Inside of Ring Three, Sector One, a mandatory meeting was in place for all of the non-ISA operators, as well as the ISA contact teams. Over three hundred “procured” lawn chairs were set in rows, slowly being filled. All around them, sirens flashed, and the pavement glimmered in the reds and blues of emergency vehicles. Vehicles were parked about, and ISA officers milled the area, some in dress suits and ties, but most in the greatcoat-and-jackboots duty uniform, while some wore simple fatigues or even VIPER armor.

A slight drizzle was coming down, and the temperature had dropped to forty, making everyone who had time to notice cold and miserable. But, at the hastily erected podium in front of the lawn chairs, Frederick Ghast didn’t seem to notice, sipping at his straight black coffee. All throughout the area, the ISA had requested and “convinced” local merchants to do their patriotic duty and provide hundreds of gallons of fresh coffee and thousands of donuts to the agents on site.

Ghast glanced down at his PDA, looking over his notes, then back up, over the slowly filling chairs. Klieg lights swiveled the area, but the briefing “hall” was only lit by the park lights shining in the mist and the nearly constant emergency vehicle lights. He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes for a moment, then smiled slightly and without humor. An agent approached from the side and spoke to him, passing over a datacard.

Ghast spoke, “Well, since we’re all here, let me be the first to welcome you to this wonderful occasion.” He waved his PDA to the gathered assembly. “You all know why we’re here. Officially, we’re attempting to break the siege of the Chancellery building and save our people. Unofficially, we’re just here for the free coffee and donuts.” There was a ripple of dark laughter through the chairs, and an agent waved his cup back to Ghast, who nodded with a pale smile.

The smile left his face, and the snickering stopped. “Okay, people, down to business.” He took a drink of his coffee. “The OIS is hard pressed for resources, and has turned this rescue operation over to the ISA. My name’s Operations Commander Frederick Ghast, and I’ll be running this rescue op.” He let his words settle on the group. “As this is now an ISA operation, there will be several rules that must be followed. First off, we don’t want any third party operations colliding with our own. For the good of those people inside, only those with ISA clearance will be allowed inside of the perimeter. Now, that means that those of you who aren’t ISA are going to have to sign a waiver temporarily joining this organization.

“Until thirty six hours after the completion of this mission, you will no longer be members of your own services, but integral parts of the Internal Security Agency, acquiring all the benefits and restrictions thereof. In other words, you are liable to internal rules and regulations… and procedures.” Ghast let his words hang over the group. “On the up side, you will be paid by the ISA, and you’ll get a cool “Temporary Service” medal to wear.”

“Now, this spells out like this. No one is to speak to the media unless they are a registered ISA media correspondent, which none of you are. Speaking to the media about this operation is considered treason against the ISA, and will be tried as if you were a permanent member. Information is the most devastating weapon, and we need complete control of it if we are to save those people.

“Next, no one is to attempt to operate outside of ISA parameters or structure. Don’t try to mount individual or national rescue ops. Don’t try to skip outside of our command structure. For the duration of the mission, you will be a member of this organization, and you can go to your commanding officer to ask for anything you need. You’ll probably get it, too. Once again, this is for the good of the hostages. We don’t need multiple parallel operations tripping on one another.

“Finally, you will be required to submit to biometric procedures.” Ghast took a breath and another drink of coffee, which was still hot and steaming against the frigid air. “This is simply a matter of getting your finger and palm prints, a retinal scan, a voiceprint, and a sample of hair or a tongue swab. This makes cataloguing data easier, and we won’t be giving your information away to insurance companies.” That comment brought another chuckle in the audience.

“So, I think that’s the basic rules. If you agree, and wish to continue, simply sign the PDAs being passed around. If you don’t wish to continue, simply get up and leave. We’ll escort you safely out of the Rings, and wish you a good day with no further consequences.” Ghast took another drink and a bite of his fritter. No one was moving, and Ghast grinned. “I see that the free food outweighed the losses.”

As the PDAs were collected, another agent showed up with a stack of even more PDAs. Ghast explained. “These are standard issue personal data assistants. They are tied into the ISA mainframes, and hold information related to your clearance. Each of you will be given one, and it will give you real time data on anything related to the mission. You can go ahead and keep them, as we update them for twenty years after a mission, and there’s nothing on them except data on this mission.” He paused until a light on his PDA turned green. “You will notice that all of your signals have been co-opted into a database. Those of you who have your own surveillance gear will notice that it is now feeding into an ISA mainframe. All of your equipment will be integrated into our systems. You can see what we see, and we can see what you see.”

He paused. “This is Alex Jaeger, our resident tech expert.” Ghast pointed to a small young man, who glanced up from his laptop with a wavery grin. “He’s what we call a “slicer”, or a state-registered, trained, and equipped hacker. He’s the best around, and he’ll be coordinating the data-war on the terrorists. Well, him and the Proteus AI, anyway.” Ghast flashed a feral grin. “Any tech questions, go ahead and ask him.

“Operations wise, you’ll notice that you’ve all been assigned to a Field Commander or Intelligence Supervisor, depending upon your specialties. They will give you your assigned roles in this operation. Remember, no one enters the First Ring without the go-ahead. We step in there, we can count on dead hostages.

“I think that wraps up this session. Go to your commanders, get your duties. Food and drink are free, all you can eat. Ask any questions you may have, but your PDA should have the answers. And remember, we’re all on the same team here.” Ghast turned back to the group. “Also, anyone else showing up will get this same run-down from another officer. Dismissed.”

The OIS vehicle that the Noviets had procured showed up slightly after the meeting, meaning they got the run down from another officer. Grumbling only slightly to the ISA’s request for the retinal scans and other biometrics the agents complied. Unwilling to take the time to order his men to remove their armor and suit back up again they complied with the retinal scans and had their other biometrics sent to the ISA from the NNAO databanks. Removing his helmet to submit to a retinal scan Arseneaux heard the familiar hiss as the suit’s environmental seal was broken. Lifting the helmet from its shoulder/neck mount he noticed the rain coming down on his now exposed skin. Taking a deep breath he smelled the Transnapastaini air, with out its stink of sulfur, methane or some di-carbonate it was a treat compared to his home town of Titanous.
“Just look this was please sir.” The ISA agent was youngish, but took his job seriously enough. Something about all of these guys weirds me out a bit.
“Une moment, I need to rrremove my lenses.” Reaching into the pack on his back Arseneaux removed a small metal tin and removed a tiny tool from it. Using the tool to take a tiny synthetic film off of his eyes he then closed the tin and looked at the retinal scanner.
“zoot.” There was a quiet whirr, almost like a photocopier and Arseneaux thought about what this agency, which the guys in the NNAO break room tell horror stories about, would do with his retinal scans. It took a few minutes but the young agent seemed happy that he’d gotten all the information necessary. Pointing to a tent he told them to report in to their Field Commander.

The squad of Noviet agents arrived in the field commander’s tent to see him leaning over a monitor with an intelligence operative. Glancing at their PDA to be certain Arseneaux ordered his team to a halt and he saluted his new superior officer.
“Agent Arseneaux and team reporting for duty sir!”

Snapshots from the Field

Field Commander Gregory Trask paced through Firebase Tango, located inside of a curio shop. The storefront window had been removed by a sympathetic resonator, and in its place was a pile of sandbags and a pair of Needler Machine Guns, with more than enough ammunition to cut the capital building from its foundations. The teams laid in the door, coolly waiting for the go signal, running constant checks on the heat pumps. A small field command node was located in the back of the shop, and an Operative and two Agents ran a communications array. Another agent with an ACR walked up the stairs, into the lofts, where sniper teams had set up.

Trask was old for a Field Commander, but he retained that rank by choice, not wanting to be moved away from his men and placed in an office. Even at fifty-five, his grey-speckled brown hair was buzz cut in the truest Marine sense, and his forearms bulged under his BDUs. The lines on his face were etched into a permanent scowl, carved by years of field experience and hard living. Trask was a survivor, a man who could live and thrive in the most desolate of conditions. He had endured almost every challenge known to man without complaint or question, and he carried that knowledge with him. Every ranking officer in the ISA knew his name, and his nickname of “Sarge” was meant with every degree of respect. He commanded the attention of everyone up to Kerrik himself, and Operations Commanders who ignored his advice tended to regret their grievous error.

Trask surveyed the last of the positions, grunting to himself. He spoke, gruff and curt, “Shift that gun over about two feet, agent. Someone could defilade on you from the curio shop.” The MG team hurried to obey, as if God himself had commanded. Trask turned back the young Operative working the radio. “Gerrins, you have the situation map?”

“Aye, sir.” Operative Todd Gerrins held the radio in place with his shoulder and passed the PDA to Trask. “The NNAO agents have been shuttled over to us. Some of our OIS friends state that the NNAO boys are interested in tunnel crawling. Reports indicate the attackers breached the compound through the sewers, and they’re interested in following up on the idea.”

Trask grunted in agreement. “That will work. I don’t want unarmored people down in those sewers. I’ve heard reports of things down there. If they go, that frees up more of our men for the assault. Do they seem competent?”

“Yes, sir. Nothing special, but reasonably trained, and well equipped.” The Operative was writing as another officer dictated over the radio.

Trask cleaned his teeth with his tongue. “Fine then. I’ll give it a go, but send Agents Feller and Kelly with them… full VIPER gear. Tell the agents to keep an eye on, and out for, the NNAO boys. I don’t want them hurting themselves down there.” Trask poured a cup of coffee from the machine propped in the corner. “Tell them to keep an eye out for these reported creatures, too, and try to catalogue them. Have them replace Team Seven, in Sector One.”

Gerrins nodded. “Aye, sir. I’ll relay the message.”

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Three agents moved into the Second Ring, moving from cover to cover in blurs of obscured motion. They wore a fiber optic weave armor, designed to pipe the light in a bend around their bodies, and their plates were covered in microcameras and reactive filaments, which echoed the images on opposite sides. The entire Wraith armor created a blurring, phasing image as the team moved. It did not, as popular fiction indicated, make the soldiers invisible, but rather, turned them into blurry outlines. The human eye was biologically trained to look for the human outline, and the Wraith armor reduced that outline to a mere imagining. When they stood still, they were completely cloaked with their surroundings, and when they moved, they were a sickening blur of the air, like heat from blacktop in a roughly human form.

“Alpha, check.”

“Bravo, check.”

“Charlie, check.”

The three men dropped into positions around a large statue of the former Transnapastain Chancellor Dredrick Main. Bravo and Charlie covered the diverging angles of the base of the statue with their M8A1 Carbines, LAWs strapped to their backs in case of a technical arrival. Alpha pulled himself onto the pedestal, crawling through Main’s legs with a tube assembly. Reaching the middle of the statue, Alpha rose to a kneeling crouch, hid head almost brushing the hips of the statue. The tube rose to his shoulder, and he aligned the digital sights on the Chancellery building about two hundred yards away. With a flip of a switch, the tube began to hum slightly, and it shivered on Alpha’s shoulders.

“This is launch team, in position. Waiting for go.” Alpha stared into the optics, his left eye cast in the glow of the digital display, which was calculating propulsion, wind, and drop to place a hypothetical destination for the payload.

“Launch is go.” The radio crackled, and Alpha pulled the trigger.

The tube hummed louder, and then recoiled back, driving down into his shoulder with a whining pop. There was a slight crackle of electricity, and the snap of a magnetic field being broken, accompanied with the ever familiar thoomp of a projectile breaking a vacuum. The projectile fired from the Mass Driver was a simple sphere, and as it reached the apex of its arc, the sides expanded into a series of airbags, like a rover landing on another planet. The puffy ball descended, landing on the roof of a portion of the complex with barely a huff, bouncing twice, and deflating in the corner of the rooftop.

Alpha lowered his Mass Driver, and the radio crackled again. “This is Mother Bird, package is delivered and on time.”

”Roger, falling back.”

The team vanished back into the city.

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Darius moved through the governmental complex, walking the silent and empty hallways, moving towards the rooftop where the package awaited. Entering the East Lobby, he slipped beneath the hanging gardens, watching for guards and staying out of cameras’ views.

He climbed the spiral staircase, and approached the maintenance surface hatch. This is going to be alarmed. He glanced back at the peaked glass ceilings, considering climbing out of them. Hardly. He glanced back at the maintenance hatch, and fished into his boot. The door will be set up with a trip. Opening the hatch will break a magnetic seal, and start a chain of events.

Darius tube from his boot, almost like a cigar case, or a test tube, but a full six inches long. Carefully, delicately, he pulled the tube back from its base. The base of the tube formed a handle about four inches long, and a point of light hung in the air about four inches above the end of the handle. Darius watched that dot of light with practiced care, and pointed it towards the empty air. He pressed a switch on the handle, and the point lunged forward, hanging a full ten inches in front of the pommel.

With a slow and steady motion, Darius brought the point and pommel into a perpendicular alignment with the door, so that the beacon “pointed” from the pommel straight at the metal hatch. With a deliberate care, his moved the point forward, until it reached, and then disappeared into the hatch, and the pommel was pressed flat to the surface. Darius exhaled in relief, and took another deep breath.

That point of light marked the very tip of a stack of diamond molecules, arranged into a delicate tower from the base of the pommel. This crystalline tower was too fine to be seen by the naked eye, constructed of a single monomolecular line. It was called a Molecular Stiletto, or simply, a Moli Stiletto, and that single stack of diamond was the sharpest blade known to man, able to cut the bonds of even the hardest alloy. It was also extremely delicate, and even the slightest twitch would shatter the strand, rendering the blade useless.

Darius held his breath, and concentrated on keeping his arm steady. Slowly, surely, he pushed the pommel up, most of the way to the top of the hatch. Another breath, a quick prayer, and he pushed it left. Twenty minutes later, he moved down. Another ten, and he moved back right. Sweat dripped from his brow, collecting and fogging inside of his mask, and his eyes were dry from the lack of blinking, his arm aching and begging to shudder. He counted the distance in millimeters, moving inexorably back towards the latch.

He pulled the stiletto back to the origin point, but he missed the monomolecular line he had carved. Rather than the futile quest of finding his own path, Darius retracted the blade and sheathed it. In a burst of motion, he kicked the hatch, and a two by two foot square shot clean from the center. He dropped to the floor in relief as no alarm sounded. Jesus Christ, that sucked.

He crawled through the hole, into a stairwell on the roof. He placed the perfectly cut piece back into place, taking only a moment to glance at the perfectly reflective surfaces the stiletto had left. He tapped his earpiece. “Check, check.”

The radio responded with a snap. “This is Ghast, we have you, Darius.”

“Hold fire, please.” Darius stated, glancing up the stairs to the roof.

“Aw, don’t want to run across the scopes? I think you could make it.” Ghast commented. “All teams, hold fire.”

Darius crawled up the stairs and scampered across the roof, avoiding the skylights until he saw a small ball in the corner. “I see it.” He reached the orb and flipped the latches open, revealing a small utility case inside. “I have the DNA kit.” He tucked it into his coat and skittered back towards the stairwell.

“Good work, Commander.” Ghast commented. “You know how that works. Get any tissue sample and place it inside the scanner. After thirty seconds, it will have all the data it needs. It’s been programmed to send the data in microwave burst whenever it has a line, regardless of whether you cue it.”

“Roger that.” Darius pulled the hatch apart again. “Heading back in.”

“Acknowledged. Good luck in there. We’re counting on you.”

Darius ducked back into the hatchway, pulling it shut behind him, and the signal went dead.

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Jaeger worked at his laptop, watching the lines of code flash past. From behind him, Ghast closed his comms with Darius, and turned to question. “Any luck, Slicer?”

Jaeger shook his head. “I’ve been reviewing the Chancellery systems, and I have about twenty different overlapping virii ready to launch. I know we can take this down, and the Analysts on Mother Bird confirm my results. With OIS help, we have the real access codes. No question about it… as soon as I can get into those systems, I’ll own that building, even without Proteus giving real time modifications.”

Jaeger bit off a piece of his energy bar, and he slapped his computer. “The problem is the building itself. The entire facility is in lockdown, and it’s functioning like a giant faraday cage, locking every interior signal inside, and keeping us out. I’d guess that they’d compartmentalize inside as well, probably physically. Until I can physically get to the systems, there’s nothing I can do but prepare more programs and re-tweak my worms.”

Ghast nodded. “That’s what Darius is for.”

“It’s all down to him.” Jaeger turned to watch the banks of screens in the Field Command, watching the reports scroll by in real time. “All on him.”

The Noviet team had met up with their assigned ISA escorts at the sewer grate by the road. Both agents were tall and imposing but its hard to tell if they were naturally tall or whether or not the VIPER armor loaned them the imposing nature. Arseneaux up linked to the ISA computer’s to view the files of the agents that’d been assigned to his unit. Both impressive agents Feller was a daughter of the agency through and through. With several family members involved in with the ISA she joked that it was the family business. Kelly was a different story all together. A quiet individual his record was classified up the ying-yang with only his first operation not requiring a high security clearance to view. When asked about it he merely smiled and replied, “I have unique talents.”

Walking towards the sewer access the team, of now eight, aquatinted themselves with one another, and the plan of attack.
“Vell I’d love to introduce me self as a keer nal ou another spectacUlar rank but I’m afreed zat I can only tell you zat I am Ah~ggent Arseneaux.” Motioning over to each respective team member Arseneaux continued the introductions.
“Dey R oll Ah`ggents as vell. Daigg, Brinkerhoff, Daring, Medina, and Welch.” Shouldering his silenced M8 Arseneaux motioned towards the sewer enterance.
“Zat est our entrance. Ve vill be going down there, Rad~E~oh see~lonce vill not be needed as de enemies R isolated prom de outside. Good for us nes pas?” Smiling across the faces of his team Arseneaux continued.
“Ve vill operate on a secure channel to avoid comp~lee~cash~yons, I vant to be able to hear your lovely little voices at all time.” Smiling at the uncomfortable glances the ISA agents gave him Arseneaux quicked his pace as he saw the Transnapastaini marine standing at the sewer access awaiting them. As he speed up Daigg shouted after him,
“Cessez l’taquiné ou l’ISA.” Turning to the ISA agents she smiled politely and spoke with a very mild French accent.
“He’s teasing so he must like you.” The group strode towards the sewer grate as the Noviets chuckled mildly about Arseneaux’s little joke. Approaching the sewer access the Noviets began to put their helmets back on with the sounds of clicks, running servos and the hiss of escaping gas. Medina, the last to put his helmet on closed the distance to the ISA agents and stuck his hand out and grasped the hands of the Kaukolatani shaking them vigorously.
“I very much look forward to working with agents of the agency that gives NNAO veterans the chills. Gotta see what the fuss is about right.” Medina smiled good naturedly to let them know he only had good intentions. Feller giggled a bit as she put the VIPER helmet on while Kelly merely raised an eyebrow, placed the helmet on then spoke one word which sounded ominous echoing out from the suit.
“Boo.”

With everyone suited up all their conversations were now happening on air, regardless of their proximity. It was standard Noviet procedure to limit audio detection at the expense of radio detection but with the building in lock down there was no risk of that. Arseneaux reached down to the sewer access to key the manhole with the access key the Transnapastaini marine had fetched for him. With the manhole open and the immediate vicinity declared safe Arseneaux’s voice came across the airwaves, surprisingly clear considering his thick accent.
“Okay according to the map we can fit in pairs on the catwalk so here’s the marching order.” A diagram was broadcast into the HUDs of the team and the Noviets leapt down the manhole, the hydraulics in their suits hissing slightly on impact. Medina and Daigg faced down one direction while Daring and Welch faced the other way. After a second each pair advanced to make room for the next. Once everyone was in the sewer and marching towards the chancellery building the order looked like this.

Medina || Daigg
Arseneaux || Kelly
Feller || Brinkerhoff
Daring || Welch

OOC: I am too tired,… I will finish this tomorrow after some sleep.

In the sewers

The team continued down the catwalk double file with Daring and Welch facing the rear walking backwards. Every member of the interagency team was poised to fly into combat at the drop of a pin. Using thermals, fingerprint dust and the map of the sewer system in their HUDs the team painstakingly recreated the path that the insurgent had taken to infiltrate the chancellery building. Becoming more and more wary as they stepped over dead body after dead body Brinkerhoff spoke over the radio.
“Why are there so many corpses down here? Is there some funeral write for the Church of God’s will I don’t know about or what?” Kelly's cold voice came over the radio next in response,
“They’re poor and fell through the cracks in the Transnapastaini system.” His exaggerated shrug could be seen through the VIPER gear. Brinkerhoff’s inaudible disgust only hung in the air for a moment before Feller’s sweet voice came online.
“That’s cold Kelly, and if you keep up the hard ass act you’ll just be reaffirming these guy’s prejudices. I still can’t believe that you guys thought that we all had three stick neural kill switches installed in our medulla oblong gaddas.” Arseneaux chuckled, he was probably the reason that the team believed that little fiction. It wasn’t nice but it was funny, no one here would let that kind of belief interfere with their job anyway.
“Stigmas or no this sewer system is still fucked up. I mean look at the size of that rat chewing on that dude, its got to be at least 25 lbs!” Daigg almost musically chimed in when Brinkerhoff said that.
“Nine point nine eight kilos according to the HUDD, but that’s a rough estimate.”
“How the hell did you get a two decimal rough estimate?”
“The size vs. weight ratio of the average rat, the sensor has a perfect 3D model of the rat and the suit’s CPU did the rest. Really Brinkerhoff your wearing a suit worth sixteen times your annual salary, you might have a little fun with its capabilities.” With the group now stepping around the rat what happened next wasn’t really expected. The rat leapt at Brinkerhoff almost as if it were homing in on his negative thoughts like a psychic attack dog smelling fear. With the rat on his neck Brinkerhoff shrieked over the radio,
“GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF MEEE!!!!” Arseneaux reacted quickly, with a swift lace kick the rat was air born. Sailing hard it flailed wildly, barely missing Daring’s head the rat rolled, almost gracefully, end over end. A click sounded in the middle of the commotion as Kelly switched off the safety on his ASG-1, leveled the barrel and pulled the trigger. The vacuum and resulting explosion were a shock to everyone but the ISA agents. The scene was now still and quiet with a bloody mist falling gently over the squad, all eyes were on Kelly. Bringing the ASG-1 to his side another click sounded the reactivation of the safety. Looking at his teammates as they were cloaked in red Kelly came on air,
“What?” At that all of their shoulders could be seen heaving in silent laughter.
“Wow Brinkerhoff and I thought I was the woman here, no offence Feller.” Daigg came on air giggling. Feller shook her head to show no offence was taken. Brinkerhoff cleared his throat and stood up, brushing the bloody rat mist from his armor.
“Yeah well next time maybe the rat will go for your neck, Nice kick by the way sir.”
“I’ve been a soccer player for the company team for five years now, I’m centre striker, I’ve never missed a kick on goal. But its not me that pulled the hat trick here.” Arseneaux motioned to Kelly who’s smiled almost showed through the completely opaque helmet.
“I shoot skeet.” The squad fell back into position and continued down the catwalk, now with orders to shoot the rats, with a silenced weapon, on sight. Feller, after a quick back came back on air in an unconfident mildly unsure voice.
“Uhh what is your Noviet armor made out of?” Brinkerhoff in an attempt to brag up Nova Hope came on the radio in response.
“Well the specifics are a state secret but it’s the application of early research in carbon nano-tubes, this chest plate is built like a steel girder.” Feller's double take was obvious even in full VIPER armor.
“Well that rat’s left a foot long gouge in your steel girder.” At that the Noviets all looked at Brinkerhoff’s pectoral plate to see the scratch across his armor.
“Well it’s not deep so that’s probably why the sensors didn’t pick it up. There’s no permanent damage but you’d be dead now without the armor.” Daigg spoke quietly appraising the suit. Brinkerhoff tuned pale beneath his armor, the team couldn’t see that but they did see him cross himself and caught the tail end of a Hail Mary.

The team was running thermals now to keep and eye out for rats in the shadows. The going was much slower now as the squad stopped at every rat sighting, paused, sighted a kill shot on the vermin and squeezed off a single shot. The scene was eerie with only the sounds of the ISA jack boots as the made soft clicks against the metal gantry. The Noviet suits, designed for zero emissions, made no sound detectable by the human ear in optimal circumstances and with the squad taking their time the suits were well within tolerance. Daigg spotted another rat on the thermals, and slowed. Now kneeling her M-8 SMG made only the faintest of noises as the bullet left the muzzle without a flash. The rat, a particularly fat twenty five pounder made a wet splat noise and the ricochet of the bullet could be heard. Shaking her head as she stood Daigg came onto the radio in a reserved tone.
“Its quite possible they brought a small army through here and simply scared the rats off.” Continuing on its prowl the team didn’t slow to speak.
“No, we’ve only seen one unaccounted for boot print. Its like the rats are attracted to people. Chances are there was one or two operatives here and they snuck through quickly.”
“Maybe, but why then,” Daigg didn’t get to finish her sentence. No one had seen it coming, on the thermals it had shown up cold, and no one thought twice about it. The rat was bigger than any that had been seen so far and it was hanging from the ceiling. Daigg, taken by surprise, was thrown from the catwalk as the rat collided with her in a leap of unprecedented strength. Rolling over the railing backwards she impacted the stone laid walk beside the river of fecal matter. With a dull thud and an unheard grunt she disappeared under the sewage. Meanwhile on the cat walk three other rats leapt into the fray. With the milliseconds of warning provided by the first rat’s attack the team was ready.

One leapt towards Kelly, this one was Arseneaux’s. With the success of the first kick in mind he leapt vertically in backwards roll with his leg extended. His foot connected firmly in the ribs of the rat, but rather than it being launched to the fore of the party the rat’s flimsy torso structure gave way and his foot sank into the innards of the vermin. Continuing his roll into a perfect backfilp he landed with a SPLUT sound with a new mutant rat moccasin.

The second came straight for Brinkerhoff who, still paranoid from the last rat attack, was ready for it. With a quick command to the suit’s operating system the hip compartment opened and metal blitzed from his side as his arm swept out in front and away from him. The knife was now visible as it was no longer moving towards the rat, inside the rat’s throat, or following through in the fast sweeping motion. With a quick torquing motion Brinkerhoff’s upper body, fluidly changed from the momentum of a follow through to maneuvering for the leverage to put a downward angle on his extended arm to release the handle of the combat knife sending it to locomote, dart like through the air. As it sailed true droplets of the mutant rat’s off pink blood smattered about the team. As quick as his knife attack had begun it ended with the combat knife landing between the neck vertebrae of the original rat with a THWACK! noise because the handle stopped the blade from sailing straight through the rat.

The third would’ve dropped directly on top of Feller, but she was ready for it. Strafing quickly to the side the rat landed with a thud on the metal catwalk. Springing towards her again the SAG Commando ripped her assailant into shreds, spraying more blood across the armor of the group.

With the commotion stopped Arseneaux got on air again,
“Daigg, status?”
“Bruised but that’s it.” Came the reply resurfacing from the brown, sometimes green, river she hoisted herself back onto the gantry.
“I’ve never been so glad that these things maintain their own environment.”
“Well lets keep on keeping on then.” At that the squad continued, looking like quite the sight. Coated in blood that’s obviously not human, some more than other’s, and one with shit streaks over her armor they pressed on. According to the map the entrance was only after one more turn.

“Attention, This is the OIS, remain to your homes, martial law has been declared, This is your final warning, failure to comply with directions may result in detention, injury, or death. Repeating…”

All over the nation, similar messages were being repeated.

The nations government was in turmoil. Most of the command structure was passed out in the Chancellery building. In times of emergency, when no command structure is present, the nation was divided by each major city, and the area surrounding it. The OIS section commander, or ranking OIS officer, was in charge for the duration of the emergency, and was authorized to act as needed to maintain law and order in their section. The ranking OIS officer in the nation was in charge of the combined section commanders.

General Owen hadn’t expected to ever have to command a nation in a state of emergency. Suddenly, though, the entire thing landed right in his lap. Section Commanders from the capital were reporting minimal resistance. They also reported that a joint ISA/NNAO hit team and entered the sewers, in an attempt to infiltrate the building, and save the hostages.

The cities of Maylor and Jorut were still reporting heavy fighting. The Military and OIS we’re doing their best to react with non-lethal measures, but, the people refused to co-operate. Entire section of both cities and to be blanketed in tear gas, sonic weapons and lights we’re being used on the crowds, tear gas and beanbag shots weren’t helping, either, and Police were wary to wade into the crowd with their eclectic batons and riot shields. For every one you knocked out, it seemed like 2 more came to take his place.

“General, Team Delta in Maylor reports being in-circled!” reported an officer

“Let me talk to them!” replied the General

“Sir, go ahead.” Signaled the officer

“Delta team, this is General Owen, whets your SitRep?”

“General! This is Captain Hendon, we formed a perimeter around the town center, only to be cut of from retreat by armed hostiles using 2 ton trucks. We’ve now garrisoned an adjacent building, and are hold up on the 3rd floor. We’re dug in good, but, there’s no getting out, they’re armed, and we’ve been fired upon, I’ve got wounded men here. 2 KIA. We request assistance.”

“Son, help is on the way. Hang in there, we’re going to get you out.” Replied Owen and ended the transmission

“Agent, get one of the OIS birds over there, and have it circle the area, inform the mod that martial law is in effect and all that. Then, get Marine Command on the horn, and get a few tanks rolling that way, have them remove the roadblocks, and attempt to intimidate the crowd. If that fails, have them pull back, and get Air Fleet to blanket the area in TG. After that’s done, have CSAR get in there, and extract that team, I want it done, and I want it don yesterday, you get me?”

“Sir, yes sir!” replied the agent

Owen signaled Delta team

“Delta team, this is Owen, do you read?”

“Yes sir, we read you 5-by.” Replied Hendon

“Right, I’ve got a bird coming your way, and MarCom is going to get some tanks rolling your way. Should that fail to disperse the crowd, we’re going to blanket TG the area. I’ve got Fleet sending in CSAR, they’re going to get you out, Rescue 3-2 will comm you when they are in position, and you’ll move your unit onto the roof, I don’t have to tell you to send the KIA and wounded up 1st. You did a good job, son.” Said Owen

“Yes sir.” Said Hendon over the radio, in the distance, the helicopter making the announcement could be heard.

General Owen silently prayed that the ISA quickly rescued the hostages, and find evidence that the OIS had nothing to do with the execution of Alexander, so this madness would end.

Chancellery Building
Transnapa City

DNA samples… that means bodies. Darius felt a grim smile creep over his face. I can make bodies. He could feel his mind slipping, falling into the old familiar rhythms of combat, the inhibitions falling away. The humanity in him was fading, a darker side emerging. His senses were heightened, his mind raced, and he felt cold, as if emotion had fled his body, leaving him little more than a lethal machine. He would regret it later, he knew, and the dreams would haunt him, but now was not a time for regret, hate, or love. Now was the killing.

His vision seemed slightly polarized, every color jumping from the wall, every motion echoing itself. Time moved slowly, and he slipped through the corridors with a predator’s stalking step. As he paced the darkened hallways of the Chancellery building, he spied his first victim. A lone guard leaned against a pillar, pulling his mask away to light a cigarette. The man’s weapon hung to his side, and he was more concerned about flicking his Zippo than patrolling.

Darius stepped up to the man, facing him, but slightly aside. “Hey, man, you got a cig I could borrow?” Darius’s stiletto was pressed to the back of his folded hand.

The man glanced up, shrugging. “Sure, let me-” He spoke as he reached for his pocket, but his hand never reached. In a blurring jerk, the moliblade snapped across the back of the man’s neck, severing the brainstem from the spine.

The body went limp, but Darius caught the falling corpse and shoved it into the closet. A few drops of blood fell, but the thin cut was almost invisible. Darius turned back, picking up the Zippo from the floor, smashing the cigarette, and swabbed the drops of blood up, placing the liquid into the analyzer. “Smoking… it’ll call you.” He commented dryly as the machine beeped. He wiped the interior clean and slid it back into his coat.

The hunt continued.


Ring Two
Transnapa City

The ISA agents pointed the mass driver towards the building, while an Operative called into a bullhorn, “Attention, those of you inside the Chancellery building. We are firing a land line into the third window on the antechamber to the media room. This will allow us to talk to you, and for you to make your requests to us. We will not fire upon you!”

All of this was per standard hostage situations. A land line would allow those inside to communicate with those inside, and served to calm hostile circumstances. Neither Ghast nor Allens truly believed that anyone inside meant to negotiate, but in normal circumstances, this would happen, so it was best to pretend that they believed this was a normal hostage taking by the OIS, to allow those inside to live comfortably inside the illusion they had crafted.

With a thump, the padded phone capsule sailed through the air, crashing through the window. Inside, it was quickly dragged from view. Now, the ISA would just have to wait for someone to pick it up.

Coming around the final turn the team saw the ladder ascending above.
“Well this is it according to the maps the ISA and OIS have provided us with,” Turning to Kelly he sneeringly added a friendly jab.
“Unless of course, heaven forbid, the gave us the wrong info.” Arseneaux gave Brinkerhoff a sideways glance at that one. Brinkerhoff always meant well but he seemed to like to push his limits. Arseneaux knew he could give him an order and the man would shut up, he was NNAO after all, but he liked to run his teams as loose as possible. As it was Kelly seemed to have given him a more than eloquent retort, flipping him the bird. Arseneaux took this time to break into the friendly jabs back and forth, though he was loathe to do it as he liked seeing the Directorate agencies co-operating so well.
“All right ladies listen up. Brinkerhoff your covered in blood, Daigg your covered in caca and Kelly your shoddy won’t help us in a breach so you three are going to run the land line back to the entrance. Once you get a signal set up this,” passing Brinkerhoff a small relay dish he continued without pause, “It’ll be hooked to an identical one so we will be able to run comms through the sewer. Once your there hold position and I’ll ask the ISA for permission to trip mine the sewers and permission to poke my head into the building.” With that Brinkerhoff pulled at the base of his pack and passed the end of an optical fiber cable to Arseneaux and began to double time it back to the entrance of the sewer, the cord spooling from a location unknown within his pack. Kelly followed aloof, fingering the safety of his ASG-1 and thinking of how he might not get into the wet work because of it. Daigg followed in proximity to Brinkerhoff using black plastic ties top secure the cabling to the gantry. Medina and Daring attached the cord to the relay and secured it to the underside of the gantry, with the relay where it was you couldn’t tell that the one extra cable wasn’t native to the catwalk’s plethora of power and data cables.

In the airspace above Transnapa City the reflect less black seven forty seven was getting final clearance from the OIS for a landing at the seized airport. On the plane was the siege/breech equipment the NNAO needed for this operation, along with 325 agents that made up the well greased machine. All under the command Agent Marie Rebecca Landry the team had a tension about it that was belied by their practiced movements that showed a lucid and comfortable disciple. Feelings were running high in the group as there were so many X factors here. Factors like the main hostage being Prime Minister Isobe, or factors like the OIS hadn’t shown any evidence that they didn’t, as the terrorists claimed, arranged this assassination. Yet the factor that had most of the agents abuzz, even the ones who had been working for the company for years, was the chance to work side by side with the ISA. Rebecca shuddered a bit at the though of the ISA. The ISA were the American CIA and the Nazi SS’s wet dreams rolled into one slightly twisted nightmare. It wasn’t good form for a foreign organization to have so much clout in the NNAO but they were the yard stick of efficiency, and cruelty. While the NNAO touted its ends before means strategies the ISA had made a dogma of it. As soon as the NNAO was brought into The Directorate every agent with clearance had taken it upon themselves to read up on all the files the NNAO had downloaded from their allies’ records. Although much of it was classified there was enough there to give higher ranking agents the gist of what the ISA was about, and this gave Rebecca more than enough to be both giddy to work with such an old and experienced agency and to be chilled to the bone about the way this might end. As long as they don’t suddenly deicide that the PM is expendable to achieve another objective I think that I can at least stomach this and see a company shrink later. A voice was then heard from out side her cordoned off area.
“Ma’am we’ve cleared the Transnapastaini traffic checks and are coming in for our final approach. The comms system has been activated and the message sent to the ISA local command.”
“Good. Then we can confirm that we will transmit the biometrics for every agent we send in past the outside ring.”
“Ma’am they might not take kindly to that.” Rebecca looked at him with wild eyes.
“By releasing the biometrics on our six agents the company has released more to the ISA tonight than it has to our own government in the last fifty years. I don’t know if the ISA even realizes what they’re asking us to do. Why do they think we are completely indistinguishable when armored, have no field rank other than agent. We…” She caught her self as the other agent began to recoil from her sudden out burst. The room jostled a bit just then as the plane set down. She could here the other agents making preparations in the plane, in fact the cargo doors were starting to open before the plane had even stopped taxiing. Picking her helmet from her desk she placed it over her head with the familiar hisses, click and whirs that signaled the suit coming to full operation. Stepping out of the cordoned off section she began to bark order’s over the air. Selecting thirty five men to stay and guard the plane she addressed the rest of them.
“All right people, this is going to be the closest the NNAO has come to the public eye in a while so I don’t want any screw ups. We’ll be working under the ISA for this one so once you’re off the plane your on ISA approved frequencies. I don’t want anyone who doesn’t have to give out any information about themselves but we are to give the ISA our full co-operation here, we are not to stonewall them on this. Respect their jurisdiction but at the same time respect company policy. Let’s go.” She ended abruptly feeling the plane come to a full stop. Moving to the rear of the plane she could see that they were already unloading the bikes. Ordering the first sixty onto the powerful street bikes they took off down the streets of Transnapa City at speeds no lower than eighty kilometres an hour. Rebecca could here them screech around the first ninety degree turn when the first hummers were being driven out. Loaded to the nines with equipment the Hummers followed suit at equally break neck speeds only moments after the bikes were out of sight. Rebecca hoped onto the last Hummer leaving, shoving some extra ammunition our of the way as she got in.
“Guys who put the DU breakers on the seat?”

Command Center
Ring Three
Transnapa City

Operations Commander Ghast took another swig from his mug, letting the strong coffee sear his throat. His eyes watered slightly, and he squeezed his teeth together. "Good stuff." he declared, turning to his analysts. "Status?"

Jaeger turned around, removing his headset. "Ready as ever. The NNAO backup has arrive. They're riding out of the darkness like the goddamn cavalry, sir."

Ghast smirked, "Right. Okay, people, phase two time. Have those NNAO people approach on an invisible vector. Group them into a building in Ring Four. Don't let them be visible from the Chancellory view or scans. Have them pick out fifty, who will get the rundown and be moved into Ring Three and Two for staging. The rest will remain in the buildings of Four. Have them outfitted with various OIS and ISA dummy gear, IFF and all. Give them some ISA sedans, and have a cloaked V-30 land in a park near there. Once it's out of sight, it can drop cloak."

The orders were relayed, and Jaeger relayed a second event. "Sir, Arsenoux is reporting no human resistance in the tunnels. They're requesting position to mine, as well as to breach. We have an uplink from them already." The technical specialist spun his pen through his hand as he spoke.

Ghast scowled. "Line is fine. Mines may be planted, but not activated. No breach yet, incase we spook someone inside. I don't want to give away our access plans, or to cause a terrorist to get an itchy finger." He took another swig of coffee. Recall most of the team, I want to talk to Arsenoux about the next phase. Have them leave a three man detatchment, as precaution. Send out a replacement guard detail of four VIPERS, and have them bring a batch of TSF disperal units."

Ghast turned to Jaeger. "We've gotten the first DNA datum from Darius. Queue up a command to head to the sewage access area, so he can scout it out and recieve the TSF mines."

"Aye, sir." The data was loaded into the system. When Darius passed an access point for microwave burst, the transfer would be loaded into his PDA.

Ghast turned back to his status reports. He hated waiting.

The ISA instructions were received by all the suits. Taking in the transmissions the agents on the street bikes gunned the powerful 1000cc engines and changed their incoming routes. Killing their lights they turned on the sonar functions in their suits, giving them a perfect layout of their surroundings, and some of the interiors of buildings around them. Killing the throttle a block out they coasted into the building the ISA had directed them to and awaited further instructions from Rebecca, who arrived minuets later.

With the agents there they moved to the next point, well fifty of them did anyway. Taking to the OIS and ISA suits with only mild grumbling they were ready for the next OIS command.

Arseneaux had received his orders from the ISA. He exhaled in his face plate, exasperation tugged on his tone. The ISA definitely did things differently then the NNAO that was certain. Arseneaux ordered his team to begin laying the mine while Welch, Daring and Medina stayed to guard the door. Taking some their mines he started to work his way back towards Brinkerhoff, Daigg and Kelly when he thought twice of it. Moving in a purposeful stride he ended at the bottom of the ladder. Before anyone noticed he was part way up, Feller seeing him move toward the access door spoke, almost panicked, into the airwaves.
“Arseneaux what are you doing!?!?!” Chortling slightly he replied
“Relax I know what I’m doing.” Stopping centimetres from the access he paused.
“There done and done.” Sliding back down the ladder he went back to his mines. Feller looked at him, her body stiff. If he could see her face Arseneaux guessed he would’ve seen an incredulous look. Before she could ask he explained.
“These suits are outfitted with sonar. The access covering looked like a good medium for the higher frequencies so I pinged the access. My suit now has a very nice picture of a closet that it’s converting into a format your ISA systems can comprehend and since I’m wanted top side by the time I get the mines on the catwalk from here to there the suit should have it nice and rendered.”

About twenty minutes later Arseneaux was topside with his entire team, omitting Welch, Medina and Daring. The cat walk, right up to and including both sewer accesses, could be remote detonated or armed for proxy det as the ISA saw fit. Striding loosely enough that one might think it was a strut Arseneaux approached Ghast. With an arm motion that could have been a wave or a mock salute Arseneaux removed his helmet with the a typical hiss, whrr, click all the Noviet armor made when powering up or down.
“Commandar Ghast sir, I am vanting to give you a method zat might help vous. Ve, ze cuam~panie, ‘ave a petit auto gyro in ze gear brought by mes ami, dis could be introduced to ze vents of ze Chan~cellery building via dis closet.” Reaching out to the computer terminal he pulled a USB from his suit and plugged in, bringing up a hazy rendering of the janitor’s closet the sewer open up into.
“As ve can see der est a vent zer, my men can remove ze face plate n put in ze auto-gyro, n ah relay device. De autogyro could zen see~lontly install audio et video inputs in ev~ary room. It could also install another relay dans l’chan~cellery building allowing us to relay information in an out of ze building via ze sewer land line. C’est a bon idea non?”

Command Center
Ring Three

When Arseneaux began speaking, the first thing that Ghast wanted to demand was that he stop, slow down, and start speaking in Standard. Instead, giving respect to a fellow professional, Ghast relied on his foreign language skills to decode the string of Standard, French, and bastardized Standard into a logical request. You know, I think he's just trying to spoof me.

Ghast answered, "Okay, okay, slow down! Sheesh, no need to blow a gasket." He grinned and handed a cup of coffee to Arseneaux. "Coffee?" He didn't wait for the reply, and passed the cup off, then continued. "Alright, I like your autogyro. My boys ran spec on the thing, and it's good. Once we secure that room, go ahead and feed it in."

The other man was staring at Ghast, probably wondering why the Operations Commander was speaking of surveillance after securing. Ghast felt his lip twitch up into his well known half smile. "We have a man inside, one of our best. He managed to evade capture, and we're going to use him to open the compound up for one stunning assault. I don't want any pressure put on them, until the entire thing goes caput at once. We're using microwave to burst orders to our man Darius, and once he's checked the sewage room, you can go ahead and feed it in."

Ghast crumpled his styrofoam cup. "And we're leaving the mines on remote. No need to complicate a movement vector for later." He pointed to a screen in the corner, that showed the layout of the area. "We have a team delivering some TSF devices to Darius now, and we'll be bringing in a few more devices later. I plan to catch these terrorists with their pants down. Your armor can seal completely, right? Not a filtered air, but a completely sealed environment, with internal tanks? If so, I'd like to use your forces to augment the final assault, when it happens.

"We'll strike from everywhere at once, as Darius blows open the access from inside. We'll come from the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and every point will be covered with converging fire lanes. The chancellery building will be a charnel house."


Nameless Men's Bathroom
Chancellery Building

This was the easiest target for Darius. The man he had stuffed into the ceiling would be easy DNA to retrieve, and he could check on the two hostages from earlier. Since he had received the message about the secure sewer, he could use this opportunity to escort the two to safety.

He reached the door, and pushed it open, into the room.

ooc: just puttering until nailiak posts something

IC:
“May oui monsieur, ze practice est pour a team not to breathe ze air dans l’theatre.” Arseneaux looked at Ghast for a moment, he could guess why this question was being asked and he didn’t like the implications of it. It could be innocent enough, concern maybe. But this is the ISA we’re talking about here. Arseneaux’s eyes hardened a bit,
“Ah vill bring a team of ‘eavies sous l’chan~cellery building et vait pour your orders. Ve vill breech prom de sewers.” Arseneaux tapped the area on his helmet that cover the communications relay.
“Ah vill vait pour your signal to send in za autogiro et then de breech.”

(OOC: Sorry for taking so long. I've been busy.)
Inside the men’s bathroom

After much convincing, Hank finally got Lynsi to agree that they should flee to the sewers. Hank could feel the sweat sliding down his face and it annoyed him. With a single, quick swipe of his left forearm he cleared the sweet and sighed with relief. He looked back at Lynsi; her body quivering with fear. “Ok, let’s go.” He tugged gently for her to move with him, but she didn’t budge. “Please, we have to go now. If we stay here, we’ll get killed. We just talked about this!” He noticed Lynsi flinch when he said ‘killed’. He tugged again, only this time he forced her to move. He looked back at the door and pushed it slightly open, then peered out. The coast is clear on this side. Hope it’s clear on the other side. He paused for a moment. No foot steps. He pushed to door open further and stepped out; nearly having to drag Lynsi with him but she quickly fell into step with him.

Out in the hallway, Hank looked left then looked right. He stepped left but quickly stopped. He turned to Lynsi. “I hear voices down that way. Quickly and quietly let us go this way.” He turned around and slinked around the corner, then pressed his body flat against the wall. Lynsi stepped around him and did the same. He peered around the corner and saw that the soldier from earlier, the one, who, he guesses, saved them, was coming back. He quickly turned back to Lynsi to find her crouching and with her arms around his leg. “Lynsi, let go. We have to move now. That soldier from earlier, the one, who killed the terrorist soldier, is coming back.” He felt her long nails digging into the flesh of his calf. “Ouch, damn it Lynsi, stop that.” He grabbed her arms and pried them off his leg, then pulled her up. “Get a hold of yourself. If you keep this act up, you’ll get us both killed.” With that, she started to cry. “Oh for fu-“ He stopped mid-sentence and put his free hand over Lynsi’s mouth. He heard voices and footsteps coming from down the hallway to the right. He pulled Lynsi and ran, right, down the hallway, then ducked left around another corner. He looked around, hoping for another bathroom or a boiler room to hide in. A little ways down the hall he spotted a janitor’s closet. He ran to the door, swung it open, threw Lynsi inside and stepped inside himself, then closed the door as quietly as possible.

“… what I think? I think Jarvis has lost it. He’s going around and playing with the sleeping hostages. He’s propping them up in grotesque positions for crying out loud!”

“Yeah, I saw that one. That is rather disturbing. Did you see the one couple he has dangling from the second floor banister? But anyway, I thought this was supposed to be an “in and out” operation. So why the hell are we still here?’

“I don’t know man, but the ISA and some brass from Nova Hope are amassing outside. I heard a few shots earlier. Turns out Johnson lost his mind, literally. He went rooftop and stuck his head out for some dumb ass reason. Now he’s got a pretty red hole in his head.”

“Oh, so that’s what that was about? He got what he deserved. I hated that guy anyway. No common sense what-so-ever.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he made it in…” The voices of the two soldiers trailed off.

Hank looked at Lynsi. Her face stricken with horror, body quivering fiercely, and eyes shut tight. He went over and sat down next to her, then put one arm around her waist. She shifted her body then her face slammed into his chest. He took his other hand and caressed her cheek. “It’s alright. They’re gone, please calm down. We can wait here for awhile, but we have to keep going.” She nodded stiffly and clenched his jacket.

“I’m so sorry. I-I-I can’t deal with all these events. T-terrorists, death, guns, it’s just too much for me. I don’t know why I thought I could deal with it.” Her sobbing continued. Hank just put his other arm around her then pulled her close and tight.

In the Great Hall

“Commander! We have a problem!” Harvey ran up the Jarvis, who was currently placing a couple in the 69 position. “Uh, sir. We have a problem. Jack, who had the conscious hostages, hasn’t reported in. Also, we lost contact with Jensen who’s patrolling the Irreplaceable Art Gallery.”

Jarvis stepped back from the couple and stared at them for a moment. He spun around and looked at Harvey. “So go find them, stupid.”

“Uh, yes sir.” Harvey started to walk away but remembered something. “Oh, sir. The ISA are attempting to gain control of the AA weapon system. So far I’ve been able to keep them out, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep them at bay. Every time they fail, another hacker joins. I can’t keep up!”

“So, destroy the external linkup for the AA systems.” Jarvis turned around to find another couple to play with.

Harvey stared in disbelief for a second then walked away quickly. What’s wrong with him? Why are we still here? What does he have planned? Whatever, I’ve got to get back to that sewer I came here through. Can’t believe I forgot my extra batteries in it.

Seconds later.
A soldier bursts into the room, breathing heavily and holding a form of cellular phone in his left hand. “Commander, we’ve been given a line to the ISA by the ISA. Do you want to talk them?” He extends the phone towards Jarvis.

Jarvis whips around, draws his pistol, and shoots the phone in the soldier’s hand. The soldier grasps his hand, drops to the floor, and screams in pain. “Tell them I’m busy! From now on, hold all my calls.” He holsters his pistol and returns to his search.

The injured soldier is hauled off to a corner and treated by a medic. He soon passes out from the pain.

Sewers
Access Hatch

Operative Cassandra Bannon took glanced up at the sewer ceiling, feeling the weight of the armor shift under servo power, that little mechanical assist to make moving the heavy armor easier. The cool air flow of the VIPER environmental regulator blew into her face, and behind the deaths-head mask, she smiled slightly. As she spoke, her voice was altered by the internal systems to make it atonal and neuter, purely mechanical. She addressed the NNAO team waiting there, while the three other VIPERs waited behind her in a diamond formation. Rico, bringing up the rear, visibly shifted his flamethrower pack, muttering about the weight. Bannon smirked and commented, “Pretty place down here. Could use some redecorating, though… I think the whole gothic-industrial dystopia theme went out last season.” She chuckled, but the sound emerged as mechanical clicks and chucks from behind the heavy regulator and air supply. “Give me the sitrep.”

The NNAO agents replied, “Nothing yet. We’re waiting for the go ahead to enter, and we’ve placed unarmed mines around the entrance.”

Rico commented from the back, the blue lick of flame glowing on the walls. “What good are mimes gonna do? They gonna mimic firing a silenced gun at the tangos, try ta scare ‘em a good one?”

There was a snicker, rattling and harsh, from another agent, but Bannon held up her hand. “Can it, Rico.” She turned back the Noviets. “You ever saw this before?” She held out a canister inside her gauntleted hand, “This is a TSF dispersion mine.”

From behind, someone commented, “Mold bomb!”

Bannon nodded, “That’s right. A Tactical Superiority Fungi device… better known as the mold bomb. This is a rapid-growth, dense fungi that is aerosolized by the device. It grows exceptionally well in warm, moist places… like the filter on a gas mask. We leak these in the vents, and within five minutes, everyone has chia pets growing from their masks.”

One of the NNAO agents asked, “But what about lungs?”

Bannon shrugged. “The TSF devices can cause an asthmatic reaction, if you’re not inoculated against the fungi. Don’t worry, it would take about an hour to suffocate someone, and we’ll be done by then.” She put the cylinder back into her pack. “Once we blow these, they’ll be mask-less, and vulnerable to a knock-out agent.”

There was a motion above, and someone stepped over the grill into the sewer, their shadow falling into the sewer. Killed the external speakers and sub-vocalized on the channels. “That’s not our man. When this asshat comes down, stun him, don’t kill him.” She motioned to Rico, who killed his flamethrower pilot light, holstered it, and stepped beneath the grating. The others drew their neurodart casters, and Rico readied his moli-rimmed combat knife. With a flick of the moli-knife, the latches snapped, and the panel fell away, swinging out from beneath the figure above.


Bathroom

The first thing Darius noticed was the lack of the hostages. God damnit! Stupid civilians! I should have made sure they were tied! What kind of moron doesn’t secure them- fuck it. If something happens, the missing hostages will get the blame, not some phantom soldier. He walked to the stall where the body waited in the ceiling, and took a tongue swab. Placing the sample into the analyzer, he closed the ceiling, pocketed his device, and slipped back into the hall, heading for the sewer access.


Ring Three Command Center

“We’ve got it.” Jaeger gave the thumbs up. “That’s two DNA samples… both of them Nailiakian. This is a real fubar, sir.”

Ghast snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. Put me through to Allens, Analyst.”

“Yes, sir.”

Inside Ghast’s earpiece, he could hear the clicking of a connection being established, and then there was a simple, “This is him.”

Ghast smiled palely, “Sir, we’ve got the DNA. Nailiakian… both of them. Sir, two points make a line, and it doesn’t point to a pretty answer.”

There was a pause. “Three points makes a plane, son. We’ve analyzed the face of the Executor’s… executioner, and we’ve got a match. It’s one “Jarvis”, from the Nailiakian Defense Force. He went AWOL a while back, but they didn’t seem too concerned.” Allens sounded disgusted. “We’re continuing as planned, and since we have enough data, the delivery will be ready in fifteen minutes. I think that Kerrik will be making some calls, though… Be ready, Commander. Allens, out.”

The line went dead, and Ghast turned back to Jaeger. “We’re going ahead. Move into the next phase, and prepare to deliver the package when it arrives.”

The shadow wasn’t the first notice the agents had but with the ISA talking about their ghastly mold bomb they’d not reacted. Moving off to the sides of the catwalk they suspended themselves over the sludge while not dropping into it. Welch hoisted himself above the catwalk via the pipes and thicker cabling. Removing a small black rectangle from his pack he pressed a release mechanism and two small crossbow arms no more than a foot in total span sprang out silently. Pointing it at the archway of the cavity that the ladder was set into he viewed his target from his ally’s concealed position, waiting for him to descend from the ladder and take one step. Underneath the walk way Medina watch through the catwalk, viewing the hazy sonar image and transmitting it to Welch.

OOC: Short and of poor quality I know, but this should let you guys keep rolling if its needed. If not I’ll be back to write a better continuation. :D

Tunnels
The grating gave away with the snap of the moliblade, and the figure plummeted into the dark. Almost before he’d struck the bottom of the canal, he was lacerated with converging lines of fire. The NNAO agents hit him with air-tasers, the blue-white arcs of electricity sending the Nailiakian convulsing into braces of shocks. From the side, there was a volley of chuffs as the VIPERs fired their neurodarts, and the terrorist went limp, even under the taser volley, collapsing to the ground and steaming in the sludge. Rico, putting his knife away, walked up to the downed man and proceeded to kick the terrorist in the ribs, flipping the unconscious body with casual ease.

“This is Bannon, we have a tango down.” She tapped her toggle mic with her tongue to activate it.

From her earpiece, the reply was sent, “Good work. Get the tango out of there, and we’re sending down the second package. Ghast, out.”

Bannon felt a tinge of remorse for what she was about to do, but it was necessary. She spoke to the soldiers gathered. “Hendricks, Gorman, take our friend to the surface. Rico, stay. We’ve got more TSF on the way, and they want to place it all.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

The two VIPERs began to haul the body away, and the others continued to wait.


V-30 Landing Pad
Former Parking Lot
The air seemed to shimmer and waver as the V-30 dropped its cloak, the pieces and parts of the massive airship revealing in short time spurts, then for longer, before the entire vessel appeared, resting on the ground, hidden inside the old office complex lot. The ramp dropped, and four Hunter/Killer soldiers hit the dirt, checking in all directions with their Sag ACRs. At the base of the ramp, Operations Commander Ghast waited, surrounded by an entourage of trusted agents. There were only ISA personnel on hand.

From inside, three analysts pushed a surface effect cart down the ramp. The cart seemed to hover over the ground, held in place by a cushion of air, and it glided silently before the three men. On the cart, a single object was located, a black octagon with a glass dome on the top, a line of red to green lights along the side. The cart rolled to a stop, and a final man descended the ramp, Sub-Director Allens himself.

Ghast saluted his commander, which was promptly returned. “Sir, is this the synthesized package?”

“Sure is, Operations Commander. This baby is hot and rocked.” Allens nodded, and the analysts lifted the glass dome, the seal breaking, and the plume of steam rising from the cryogenics inside. With a pair of tongs, an analyst raised out a simple cylinder, a glass bottle with a liquid inside. “This is the synthesized Chimera Form. Targeted to Nailiakian DNA, it is an accelerated Ebola variant, mixed with a modified VEE vector. Ninety-eight point six percent contagious, it incubates for twenty minutes before the first symptoms appear. After twenty minutes, the first symptoms appear: coughing, delirium, loss of time-sense, incontinence, loss of vision, hemorrhaging… a real cocktail of fun. From the point of first symptoms, there is a mere five minutes until the brain boils. The body is reduced to a bloody mass within ten.” Allens’ lip twitched. “Or so the eggheads say. Suffice to us, it kills them good in half an hour, with incapacitation directly before.”

Ghast swallowed back a bit of bile. “And if this gets leaked into the air?”

“No long term danger. Viri like this do not exist in nature for one reason… they are self destructive. As contagious as this virus is, it kills its host too rapidly. It cannot spread beyond the immediate area. At worst, we’d have a few Nailiakians dying of Ebola-type symptoms in the next day, but no more. As long as the initial carriers are rounded up, and the bodies incinerated, there is no danger.”

“This is airborne, then?”

“Aerosolized, actually. We need this placed in a dispersal unit in the Chancellery, you find it for Darius, and the ventilation system will do the job for us. The building will be clean in half an hour, same as the people, from the point of release.”

“And crossover risk?”

“Minimal. The Nailiakians are homogenous in population. There is less than a percent of crossover, and I fully expect your preparations to take care of the residual risk. Carry on, Commander.”

“Yes, sir!” Ghast snapped another salute as Allens and his agents retreated into the V-30, which flicked back into cloak. There was a blast of air, and the shifting mirage of the transport faded into the sky.

Ghast turned to his men, one of whom was holding the warmed Chimera. “Get that fitted into a gas dispersal unit, and have a VIPER run it to the sewer grate. Don’t tell Darius.” Ghast turned, his shined shoes glinting in the glare of the city lights, and the ISA machinations continued.

Darius
The door clicked shut behind him, and he turned back to the supply closet, and the hole gaping in the floor where the emergency access had been. He glanced down, into the hole, at the small convention staring back up, pointing various weapons. "Howdy." Darius stated to the firing squad that was waiting in the sewer.

From down below, there was a chuckle. "Good to see you alive, sir." A voice replied, muffled by the rebreather of a VIPER suit. "We've got some packages for you. TSF cannisters."

Darius whistled slightly. "They're gonna gas the place?" That was the only point of the TSF, as a precursor to a gas attack, to force the enemy to forfeit any sort of scanning system. "They do realize that I'm in here, too?" Darius was innoculated against the TSF, but he had no desire to be the victim of a knockout attack. It was probably the safest alternative, to storming the building, but still...

The VIPER below stated, "Don't worry, it's a gas you're innoculated from."

Darius breathed out a sigh of relief. One of the benefits of being an Operative (and Commander) in the ISA was the mass immunization and atropine doping that was expected. Thanks to yearly shots and time release bloodstream capsules, he would be able to continue functioning inside the area of effect on several lighter gasses. He wouldn't be peak performing, but at least he wouldn't be slobbering on the ground. Darius was relatively certain of his own safety now, as he would be able to fight back during the assault, if any terrorist remained standing longer than expected. He had no idea of the scope of the coming strike.

He picked up the TSF cannisters, five in all. "Standard ventilation delivery?"

"Of course. Set and blow, ASAP." Another item was handed up to him. "This is a link-worm. Load this disk into any computer in the building, and it will give us system access on demand." Darius tucked it into his pocket.

"Thanks. I'll get these placed." He turned to go, but there was a commotion below.

He stopped, turning back to the hole. Below, the VIPER handed up another two TSF cannisters. The soldier sounded a slight bit confused. "Command sent two more dispersal units for you. Apparently, five wasn't enough!"

Darius took the new cylinders. Five is protocol! More than that, and we're talking about an overdose exponential increase- unless this isn't TSF. The cannisters were lighter, colder. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. So, the gas attack will come inside, not outside. "I'll get to work."

"Good luck, Commander."

"Thanks. I hope I don't need it."

He slipped from the room.

Section Four Command Center
Ring Three
It was in an old building, seperated from the operations and walled in with soundproofing foam panels. Here, removed from public eye or ear, was where the Nailiakian terrorist known as Harvey would find himself when he awoke. The awakening was not pleasurable, but a blast of freezing water thrown onto his face. He was tied to a chair in the darkened room, and four guards waited in the shadows as Dieter Serken, Investigative Commander of the ISA, waited calmly with an IV drip secured to Harvey's bound form.

In this darkness, cast in the single spotlight, Serken's voice was the only noise besides the slight rhythmic drip of water somewhere above. "Good morning." Serken stated coolly, standing directly behind the bound terrorist's right ear. His voice whisped out and the terrorist flinched, to which Serken smiled slightly, stepping into view. His harsh features were cast into the shadow and light, and his eyes hidden behind reddish oval sunglasses, looking for all intents to be some maddened professor. But his movement was fluid, serpentine, and the tray of various sharp objects to his side seemed to be no more than everyday tools. The cold doctor smiled horribly. "Why don't you tell me about what's going on?"

It was not a request.

Sub-Basement Bunker
Chancellery Building
Transnapa City

The basement of the Chancellery building was dark, but not dank, as the powerful air circulation systems pulled the dirt and humidity away, leaving the cement floors and walls as cold and clean as the day they were constructed. Built nearly a century before, and never used, the fallout shelter below the governmental center extended into various bunkers and control rooms. Over time, Logic Machines became analog computers, and then digital; radios became ray-tube televisions became monitors; and the food stuffs and water purification equipment was kept current. However, the layout was unaltered from the old “Modern” style, with harsh overhangs and rebar arches that supported the utilitarian structure. This place was built for survival in a nuclear war that never came, and the entire sealed compound had been closed for half a century, left intact in case of a last-resort situation.

In that last half-century, only a few repair details and the occasional re-stocking had entered the Bunker, and the doors were kept tucked in the backs of supply areas, hidden and welded shut. The systems were self-sustaining, and the once-per-decade upgrades and repairs had kept them functional. Few knew of the old bunker, far fewer cared about it, as it was little more than a relic, maintained out of the fact that it was easier to maintain than demolish, even after command was transferred to Valhalla Command Station. So, in silent resolution, the Bunker maintained its outdated vigilance, waiting to be used.

It had been more than twelve years since the Bunker had been routinely accessed, presumably as the religious government had less nostalgia for military relics than the old Chancellor Main.

The only noise was the thrum of the air cleansing scrubbers, pumping the sterile atmosphere through the empty halls. The whistle of the slowly cycling air sent mournful groans through the concrete and steel. The slight bit of light from the emergency beacons glinted red in flickering pulses, leaving the entire compound in a perpetual twilight that was somehow fitting. Without warning, the vigil was broken.

There was a slight sliding of metal on metal, a mere shuffle of fabric and rubber that would have passed unnoticed in the outside world. In this abandoned stronghold, it was a thunderclap between the steel and stone, a joyful cry of a tool finding a master. Another shuffle of cloth and a slight thump… the exhaling of breath, regulated and artificially easy. The lights slapped on inside of the Bunker as the trip sensors recognized movement. One crack after another, and the silent behemoth awakened, eager to meet its visitor.

Darius Jensen rose to his feet in the now glinting hallways, moving the ventilation grate back into place around the hole he had cut in the roof. The bandolier of TSF devices was missing, as was his gas mask and OIS shock uniform, leaving him in only the lighter but more mobile ISA suit. He sheathed his moliblade and examined his surroundings, grinning without humor. So, they didn’t fill it in! He tapped his PDA with knowing gratitude to the detailed building plans. I thought these old bunkers would all be filled in by now. Well, don’t look the gift horse in the mouth, you’ve got a base of operations now.

He began to walk down the hallway, looking for any sign of a command center. This was a last-resort stronghold… there has to be some sort of fallback control room down here. He was willing to bet that the terrorists didn’t know of this place. It was only through the casual observation of an OIS officer that the ISA knew of it, as every report had it being decommissioned and filled in a decade ago. There was much debate going on even now about whether the Transnapastaini government was simply pretending this bunker wasn’t here, or if they simply forgot over the decades, as it fell off the floor plans some years back.

As Darius walked, he noticed the slight layer of dust that was present on the floors. The scrubbers were indeed failing, pointing to a massive government oversight more than duplicity. He looked at his wrist, at the shrinking stopwatch timer.

00:14:21.86

Only another fourteen minutes until detonation. Even though Darius was certain he was indeed immune to the gas being used, he wanted to take no chance, and had relocated to the separate Bunker air-system, which was positive pressure to the Chancellery building. You know you’re going to have to go topside. He rolled his eyes. Less time in the hot zone, the better.

Ahead, there was a door, held in the open position. Beyond was a small, old style command facility, with green covered plastic chairs and bulky computers, boasting a wide variety of drives, even including five by seven diskettes. Darius pulled out the disk he had been handed by the VIPER soldier, scowling at the compact disk. Thank God they didn’t give me a DVD or Holodisk. The question is, is even this ancient POS disk old enough?

Moving computer to computer, he looked over the boxy cases, searching for any with a CD drive. In disgust, he threw a case of five by seven floppies into the aisle, only to reveal a piece of sturdy paper with punched holes. “A punch card? Good God, I’ve fallen into the dark ages!” He winged the punch card down the aisle after its brethren. “I swear to God, if I find an analog computer down here…”

He found the treasure under an old “Guns and Ammo” magazine, featuring the stunning new M8 Assault Rifle Concept. With a smirk at the old cover art, he revealed the external four-speed drive, connected to a serial port. “There is a God!” Darius flipped the power switch on the connected computer, then waited as the old OS booted. With a final chime, the desktop loaded, and Darius started the disk in the drive unit. There was a whir, and the screen turned into a blur of data.

Access Granted. Link Established.

He glanced back at his watch. 00:09:18.57

The sands of time were running low, and he could only wait as the grains fell. He dropped back into one of the rolling chairs.

I wonder if one of these computers has Pong? He reached for another power switch, to turn on another machine, but he froze instead. Behind him, he could hear movement. Darius tensed, slowly clenching his Sag Commando, readying to whirl. There was another sound, a drip of water to the ground, and another footstep. Darius kicked from the chair, spinning on the stand, the Commando flashing to firing position, the chair flying out from under him to crash into a wall as he fell to one knee, the buck of the high tech weapon as it belched a string of 2mm Needles… and Darius stood face to face with a dead man.

The shuffling vagrant fell to the ground, a single line of holes between his blank milky eyes, blood dripping from the pipes behind this head. Darius rose, swearing. How the hell did that bum get in here? Now I’ve gone and killed a non-combatant again. He didn’t have to die. But from the dead vagrant’s hand, a small inhaler fell to the floor.

Darius stepped back, his eyes widening. Suddenly, things were shockingly clear to him, and he gripped his Commando tighter. He touched his comms, not caring if they went through. “Houston, we have a big fucking problem.”

Director’s Conference Room
ISA Headquarters
Corsingard
Kaukolastan

The room was Spartan, as was everything Kerrik possessed, modeled on his own ascetic desires. The onyx conference table stretched like a bent rectangle, flaring and shrinking to a single chair at the end, with the holographic display in the center. One side of the room was a series of military paintings, while the glowing Corsingard skyline shone from the opposite. The ends of the room were display screens, and the light was provided by the recessed mercury bulbs.

The entire room was light and shadow, black and white, with the only color coming through the window and the paintings. But these were lies. The “window” was broadcasting a live feed onto a high resolution screen, as the office was in the center of the complex, far removed from the exterior vulnerabilities of even the modern fortress that was the Corsingard HQ. The pictures themselves were merely unused flatpanels, set to rotate art as Kerrik wished.

The Director himself sat in the furthest chair in the room. His graven image was reflected in a shining blackness from the Onyx surface, and a splay of papers and PDAs lay before him. His hands were folded into a steeple, beneath his chin, encased in the protective anonymity of the leather gloves. The nightlight of Corsingard played from his side, casting one half of his face into the light, the other into shadow, his eyes hidden in pits of inky twilight, only the flash of a reflection from the darker recesses. Only the golden clip on his black tie shimmered, a glimmering contrast to the white and black he wore in matching theme to the room.

Another light cast now, a path of blue and white from a small PDA, its plasma screen sending a widening column of light up, onto the Director. But, in spite of this new light, perhaps magnified by it, the powerful man’s features remained cloaked in the new beacon. His hands moved deftly, and information flashed past his eyes, which flickered intently upon each line. With barely a breath to mark his completion, he lowered the PDA again, closing his eyes and reaching up to touch his cheek with a black-gloved finger.

The smooth leather moved over his face, and he pursed his lips for a moment. A decision was made, and Kerrik simply reached to his ear, tapping it twice. “Alex, get me a line.” The words were not spoken aloud, but simply sub-vocalized into his throat transmitter.

The voice spoke directly into his ear, through a manipulation of inner ear bones, “Yes, Director. I’ll patch him through.”

Kerrik touched the PDA before him again, and the echoes of scowl flashed on his face at the latest news. Still, it mattered not to the current situation…

The flatscreen came active on the far side of the table, for a suitable holocom was lacking on the other end of the transmission. The image of Alex Vargas appeared, and she stated, “Sir, we have the Nailiakian Chancellor on the line.”

“Put him through.” Kerrik spoke with barely a whisper, and his hands dropped to his table, his puncturing stare to the screen before him.

Dealing with Kerrik was never easy, for the man was not one for small talk, or for blunt declarations. The truth was a fragile thing, one best approached obliquely and slowly, spiraling inwards on the revelation. As such, conversations with the Director were not exchanges of information, but a gradual labyrinth of subjective and objective, for the Holy Grail of knowledge at the center.

To make matters more difficult, it was not expected that Kerrik call anyone else. They must come to him, lest he wait on another. As such, even when calling a national leader of the most trusted degree, the call was placed by an aide to the Director, who contacted the other leader. Once contact was established, the leader was put on hold while Kerrik was re-connected. Perhaps this was distressing to national leaders, but it was the only way that Kerrik would contact another.

The image of Chancellor Kailian appeared on the screen, and Kerrik smiled spookily. “Greetings, Chancellor. I am surmising you will appreciate some forewarning on these matters at hand before the storm. Now… do you want the good news or the truth?”

Command Center
Ring Three
Transnapa City

“…we’re getting a feed now!” Jaeger almost jumped from his chair, tagging the data stream from the old computer Darius had activated. “Bingo! Wonder-boy’s gotten an access for the worm.” On the screen, security networks went from green to blue in rapid order as the PROTEUS AI filtered into the Chancellery Network.

Ghast grinned. “Good work, people. Keep it quiet, though. No alarms tripped?”

“Negative, OC. PROTEUS is sliding under the grid, but not activating any systems.” Jaeger tapped the mobile sub-core. “Good work there, man.”

“Are you talking to the computer again?” Ghast exhaled heavily. “It can’t hear you.”

“Well, PROTEUS is full AI.”

“Artificial, kiddo. Remember that. These are designed to mimic intelligence. It doesn’t know what you’re saying… it’s just programmed to pretend it does.” Ghast turned as another agent approached.

The new agent saluted. “Sir, we’ve finished analyzing those rats we found… there’s something you should-”

Suddenly, the communications lines lit up with a shout from Darius. “Houston, we have a big fucking problem!”

Ghast grabbed the microphone. “What’s happening, Darius? SITREP!”

Darius’s voice was slightly wavy, as if he’d been mortally terrified only moments before. “Sir… I just found some vagrant down here, and I gunned him down…” Ghast grimaced. That’s not good publicity. Thank God it’s a bum. Still, Darius sounded truly worried, and he continued. “Commander, he was doped on Mind Blade.”

Ghast dropped his coffee. “Come again, Field Commander? Repeat that for me.”

“You heard me, sir. The bum was high on Blade. I have his inhaler, and it’s half-full.”

Ghast swallowed hard. How in God’s name? “Put it away, Darius. Don’t touch it!”

Darius snapped back, “Actually, sir, I was going to fucking give it a try. I already put it in the corner, and I’m currently camping out with my walking armory in case another Blader shows up.”

Ghast felt cold. “Relay this up the chain.” He commanded methodically. “No one speaks of this except to people cleared to Level Seven.” He quickly took a drag on a cigarette. “Darius, continue as planned.”

“Aye, sir.”

The comms cut out, and Ghast turned back to his people. “I need to know where this came from, and who’s been infected. None of our people show signs, but this sure as hell explains the erratic behavior from the Executor and that Terrorist Commander. Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, how did I draw this mission?”

The agent who had arrived early was white as a ghost when Ghast turned back to him. “Sir… those rats… the mutagen in their systems… it was Blade.”

Ghast felt the bottom fall out of his system. “Jesus bouncing-baby tap-dancing Christ! Lock down the water supply, and make sure we have plenty of our own water left. Thank God we’ve been boiling it all for coffee! And no one, no one goes into that sewer without VIPER gear!”

“Sir, that terrorist was in-”

“Damnit! Have Serken test him for Blade. If he’s positive… drain his brain and shoot him… stat! Double the guard!” He stopped. “I want the Fourth Ring evac’d. Get every civilian the hell out of Dodge, and detain any that struggle for a Blade test. We’ve got to tell the Transnapastaini officials, but without them firebombing this whole place… damn it.”

Ghast rubbed his forehead. “Those pyromaniacs will want to bomb their own capital to the ground if they find out… and perhaps with good reason, given last time…” He exhaled heavily, and scribbled on a PDA. “Since the general populace has not demonstrated Blade Psychosis, I’d say there’s minimal risk. Therefore, this stays under wraps until the operation is rolled over completely. Be prepared for anything.”

He glanced to the timer on the wall. 00:04:32.71 “Five minutes until game time.” It was the longest five minutes of Ghast’s life.

Somewhere
Harvey sat bound to a chair in a cold, lifeless, room. Sweat trickled from his forehead down to his chin, forming a little pool in his lap. "Please, dont kill me. I-I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just please dont kill me! I dont want to die, I didnt have a choice in doing this! I was conscripted! Please dont kill me!" Harvey rambled on and on for a minute before the doctor backhanded him, shutting him up.

Supra, Nailiak Capitol city
Kailian is informed of a transmission coming from the aide of Director Kerrik. He walks over to the main viewscreen and stands at ease.

Kailian's face grew grim. "Kerrik, you never have good news or the truth. So what have you to tell me now? Is there another killer drug running rampant through out the world or have you just screwed over Transnapastain... again? Or perhaps you wish to make more tree related jokes about my nations and its people?" Kailian sat down in his chair and folded his arms in wait for a responce.

Transnapastain Capitol City
Chancellery Building
A Janitors Closet

Hank nudged the door open and peered out, the guards had moved on. He looked back at Lynsi. “Alright, the coast is clear, we have to move now.”

Lynsi looked at him, her body quivering. “I-I can't.”

Hank sighed. He closed the door and went to Lynsi's side. “Look, if you stay here, they will find you and kill you. Please, just take my hand. I'll keep you safe and get you out of here quickly, we are close to the serwers.”

Her eyes were full of sheer terror; water streamed from then and down her cheek. Hank reached down and grabbed her by the upper arm. “Stand up or I'll force you up.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I'm scared, and you aren't helping any!” She tried to jerk her arm away, but he had a good grip on her.

“I'm doing this because I refuse to get killed because of your fear. Now move!” Before she could answer, or think of anything to say, he jerked her arm, forcing her to stand up.

“Ow! Stop, let me go!” She tried to jerk free again, but same as before, no luck.

“Stop it now! We have to go.” He pushed to door open and drug her out of the room.

He looked left, then right. Clear, still. He looked back at Lynsi, she was trembling but wasn't trying to break free anymore. He pulled gently, this time, towards the left. Lynsi hesitated at first, but began to walk with him.

Hank made his way around the ground level as if he had designed it to begin with. He passed through the kitchen, pasted the Great Hall, or, at least, the hallway that led to the Great Hall, and past another bathroom. Finally they reached the intended janitorial closet. Hank pushed to door open and, nearly, threw Lynsi in. He backed into the closet himself, checking and making sure that no one saw them.

“Hank! It's the sewer lid!” Lynsi fell to her knees and began to sob.

“Lynsi, please get up. We are close, so close. We must keep moving!” Hank knelt down beside her and examined the lid. “I'll need your help for this.” He pointed to his right, at the wall. “Grab that mop and bucket. Put the mop end in this hole.” He pointed at the sewer lid. “And put you weight down on the mops other end. I'll lift the lid directly once you get it started.”

Lynsi nodded and did as he instructed. She grabbed the mop, inserted it in to the hole, placed the bucket under the middle of the mop's shaft, and waited.

“Ok, Lynsi, put your foot next to the bucket, keep it from sliding.”

She nodded and did so.

“Now, press down on it.”

Lynsi leaned on the brooms shaft, slowly lifting the sewer lid. Hank worked his fingers under the lid and helped.

SNAP!

The broom's shaft snapped under the weight of both Lynsi and the sewer lid. Luckily Hank had been able to work his hands under the lid and was ready and able to catch the extra weight when the broom snapped. Hank pushed on the lid, setting is upright. He looked at Lynsi, she had stopped crying, but she was holding her nose. At that moment, he noticed the horrendous smell coming from the open sewers. It was almost enough to make him gag. He held his breath and rolled the lid to the wall, propping it up against it.

“Well, Lynsi. This is where we get off this terror ride.” He walked over to her and kissed her cheek, then proceeded down the sewer ladder. After a moment of hesitation, mostly to take one deep breath to hold, she followed him.

Command Center
Ring Three
Transnapa City

The first warning came as the sewer lid was removed, and the laser noted the range change, flinging up the breach warning. When Hank and Lynsi began to descend the ladder, the seismic, temperature, motion, and optical sensors all triggered in sequence. In the Command Center, the alarms went off with startling speed.

“Sewer breach in sector seven!” An Agent called out. “Two tangos, light armor. Deploying a VIPER unit to commence IE operations.”

There was a pause, and a name was tagged. “Negative.” The Special Agent running the observation center declared, “That’s Ambassador Moore and his consort. Dispatch a recovery team, and nix that IE.”

“Aye, sir.” The Agent toggled his comms. “Abort IE operations, switch to retrieval mode. VIPER Four, get those people to the quarantine zone, stat!”


Sewers
Ring Two
Transnapa City

“Last bend, people.” The six VIPER soldiers charged through the sewers, the crash of their heavy boots sending the sludge away in waves. On cue, they slowed, raising their weapons and stepping out around the corner, their masks glowing. They didn’t pop smoke this time, because they were trying to be friendly.

They were still utterly terrifying, six hulking, trench coated figures, with the hidden features, clanking respirator, and red eyes, standing in the tunnels. One raised his hand, “Ambassador Moore, Ma’am, I’m Field Agent Navarre, Kaukolastani ISA. We’re here to get you out of here.” He paused, letting the pair calm, “This area is contaminated. We’ll carry you, so you don’t touch the waters.”

Without waiting for the response, two of the VIPERs simply lifted the ambassador and his consort, and carried them off into the tunnels. Navarre triggered his comms, “We’ve got them. They’re heading over to the Decon Zone, they’ll emerge inside the tents.”


Director’s Conference Room
ISA Headquarters
Corsingard
Kaukolastan

Kerrik did not snap a reply, or even change his placid smile. Rather, he simply moved one of his gloved hands, letting the glint of the wire on the back distract his counterpart, even as he picked up a PDA and began to read. “The situation in Transnapa City has been somewhat resolved. The terrorist unit involved has been shown to contain at least three Nailiakian citizens. The commander of the unit is a rogue officer named Jarvis, and he was the one who pulled the trigger on the Executor.” Kerrik placed the PDA on the desk. “There are pictures, tissue samples, audio patterns consistent with dialects from you nation. We did not like this conclusion, and every means has been used to test for anomaly, but none have shown themselves. We have, in our hands, one of the terrorists, and he has further confessed. His confession is genuine, I assure you.”

He paused again, looking right at Kailian, “I don’t need to spell this out any further, or I’d be insulting both of us.” Again, he paused, letting realization set in. “We’ll be informing Transnapastain once this line is closed, and the situation will be resolved shortly. Fear not, Chancellor, for we have a plan. Do you know why magician’s assistants are beautiful, or why Samurai put ribbons on their swords? It’s all in the art of shadow and illusion, of flash and fire, of feints and red herrings… fear not, for I am a magician, and the act will appease the masses.”

Kerrik smiled. “Have a nice night, Chancellor, and I shall see come the dawn.”


Command Center
Ring Three
Transnapa City

Time had run its course.

00:00:00.00

In the Chancellery air system, the dispersion devices activated, spraying out their lethal contents. Some of the devices were simple TSF, designed to clog and render ineffective gas masks. Others were not, and the Chimera Virus began to rampage. It jumped from person to person, spreading inside the closed environment like wildfire, blowing through every gust of air.

Some that breathed it in were fine, for the virus could not bind to their RNA. Others were not so lucky, and the virus began to rapidly spread, destroying cell after cell. No virus as violent as Chimera existed in nature, for in nature, a virus needed a host to survive. Anything this deadly would die out from evolutionary failure. But, Chimera was not natural, and it began its suicidal drive, killing its hosts from the inside, out.

The first symptoms would be minor, and would be attributed to the mold. Such things as coughing, sneezing, and headaches were not mortal, or even suspicious. By the time the bleeding and delirium began, it would be too late. For now, Chimera stewed in silence, and all there was to do was wait for it to show symptoms.

In the command center, Ghast closed his eyes, turned to his command team. “The virus is free. Begin the final preparations, and launch in twenty minutes. They should be encumbered by then.” He stroked his goatee again. “Tell Darius to move in fifteen. It’s time to dance with the devil.”

The Noviet team stood ready. They’d been given a superficial assignment to be sure but they were happy to help. As intimidating as the ISA and their technology was the NNAO Agents were enthused at the opportunity to show of their ‘heavies’. More an armored body frame than a mech, as one might assume, the heavies were still intimidating to be sure. Designed to allow the rapid movement and usage of in cumbersome weapons the heavies were just that, heavy.

Sporting engines with power that exceeded 200 horses the heavies could make dead runs of 40 kph while fully loaded, not that it’d be beneficial here. For assault purposes the point of the heavies was two fold; intimidation and overkill.

With modular arm and torso equipment the squad of five agents, two in heavies, had more than enough firepower to take out a platoon of grunts. These particular heavies were equipped for optimal siege. While disadvantaged by the ninety degree turns that they navigated slowly the heavies would provide the team a distinct advantage in the long corridors. With the operator almost immune to ballistic attack from a forward position the previously lethal corridors would now benefit the siegers, and not the siegees.

Signaling their preparedness the team positioned the first heavy, outfitted with high powered ballistic weapons, at their entry point. With the mount on the right side of this heavy two thousand combat shotgun slugs a minute could be delivered with almost perfect accuracy from a device that looked like the love child of a gatling gun and the SPAS~15.

OOC: This is just me bumping, there’s no real need to send this particular team in but I know there was ‘some’ mention of my participation.

Section Four Command Center
Ring Three

Investigative Commander Serken paused for a second, looking up from the blabbering terrorist. Inside his small, rimmed glasses, an alert was flashing. His lip curled for a moment, and he stepped back from the “interview”, motioning for another agent to continue. Serken stepped back into the shadows, glancing to the corner of the lense.

In response to the eye movement, the laser-projected display changed, moving up a text message to superimpose on the world. The doctor’s eyes moved rapidly, taking in the new data. “Interesting.” The word slipped his lips and fell to the floor, dead in the air. Serken glanced to the test reports from the analytical gear connected to the captured man.

Harvey glanced back up, screaming as he saw that cold, medical gaze. “I’ve told you everything I know! I’ve done exactly what you-”

But Serken simply nodded. “Particulate exposure, nothing too dangerous… yet, the evidence exists…”

“Particles? Of what? What are you talking about?” Harvey was thrashing.

“Yes, nothing dangerous, no dementia should set in. Perhaps, though, it would be wise to take precautions.”

“Please, no!”

“Not to mention the costs of a mind wipe, and the remaining physical evidence…”

“I’ll do anything! Anything! I swear, I’ll do-”

PACHINK! PACHINK!

Harvey’s head slammed back against the table, the back erupting in dual explosions of brain matter, sending the leaking remains draining into the catch pans. His dead eyes were still transfixed forward, staring blankly out, mirroring the two new holes in his forehead. The kill had been quick, the professional ISA “double-tap” delivered without warning or hesitation, directly into the brain. Harvey had probably not even known what shot him, much less felt pain. Serken lowered the smoking handgun, the slight trail of smoke rising to frame his small features. He carefully slid the silenced weapon back under his coat, and turned to the agents.

“Clean this mess up, and sterilize the room.” He removed his gloves slowly, carefully, heading towards the scrubbing station. “I shall report the patient’s status to Ghast.”

Chancellery building
Grand Hall


“Commander Jarvis!” a solider shouted as he burst into the great hall, finding Jarvis sitting crossed legged in the Executor’s chair, his papal hat atop his head, waving a scepter around wildly.

“Ohhh, look at me! I’m the Executer of Transnapastain, bow before me and my God!” he said sarcastically. He then stood, and cracked the scepter over his knee, the golden object merely made a thunk as it hit his kneecap, and Jarvis shouted and fell to the floor, rolling up, he drew his pistol and fired into the head of the scepter.

“Piece of shit.” He mumbled, as he holstered his pistol.

The solider approached him slowly. “Umm, sir?” he asked

Jarvis spun on his heels and glared at the man, the solder gasped in fear.

“What is it, solider?” he asked curtly

“Sir, we still don’t have any contact from Jack and Jenson, and some of the solider report hearing noises in the vents earlier.” He said timidly

“And?” asked Jarvis

“Also, we can’t find Harvey, he said he would be right back about 30 minutes ago, and now he’s missing.”

Jarvis snorted “He’s most likely on the john, speaking of which…” Jarvis sad, and began to urinate into the fountain in the middle of the Grand Gall. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” he said.

“Uh, sir, with due respect, the loss of contact with guards is a bad thing, and the noise in the vents could have been an intruder. Also, we really need Harvey to maintain the computer lockout. Though it looks like the ISA has stopped their hacking attempts.” The solider said as politely as possible.

“No one could have breached our parameter-“ Jarvis started, interrupted by a coughing spell.

“But sir-“ started the solider, he chocked, suddenly unable to breath through his mask. He removed it quickly. “Piece of Transnapastaini shit, these air filters clog so easy.” He muttered.

Other soldiers around the room were also beginning to remove their masks, some of them coughing and wheezing a little.

“Anyway.” Said Jarvis, “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure Jack and Jenkins are just off somewhere, goofing around.” He said nonchalantly. He then continued to move bodies around the room, putting them in obscene positions, several articles of clothing from men and women alike had been removed and tired around various parts of their bodies. Jarvis bent down and removed a bra from one of the hostages and affixed it to his own chest. Prancing around the room, he continued babble incoherently

What in the fuck is wrong with him?” thought the solider as he wandered off.

Irreplaceable Art Gallery
Chancellery building

A trio of men were strolling through the displays, on a lackadaisical patrol of the area. They had all already removed their masks, and were chatting idly among themselves

“So then I told that bitc- started one of the soldiers, who was interrupted by a coughing spell.

Another man was trying to read something, and failing, his eyes were blurry, and the world seemed to be stretching out in front of him, he leaned in closer and squinted.

“Hey, John, you ok?” asked one of his fellows, followed by a slight cough

“Yea, Bob, I’m fine. My head hurts, that’s all.” he said, shacking his head.

“Lets get back to the great room, and see the medic for some aspirin.” said Bob

“Ok...yeah.” replied John, coughing and sneezing a bit.

Security Room
Chancellery Building

Seated at one of the computer consoles, a man leaned in and looked at the displays before him.

“What the hell?” he said, leaning in, squinting at the computer

The system was acting slightly odd, or maybe it was just his imagination, calling up a file, he sighed

“Damnit George, I told you to delete that file.”

“I did, Hennery an hour and a half ago.” He said
“Well, since its sitting right here in front of me, id say you didn’t.” he said, deleting the file himself. “There, done” he said, with a slight cough

“My fucking head hurts, I think I’ve been staring at these consoles too long, I’m gonna go take a smoke.” He said.

“Yeah, looks like the ISA stopped trying to hack into the AA systems, so I’ll join you…where the fuck did Harvey go?”

“I don’t know…probably taking a dump.”

“Right, let’s go get that smoke….” He said, standing up, and waling outside the room.

Both of the men left the room, they would have noticed, if they were still watching, that the file Hennery had just deleted had reasserted itself…

Situation Room
Valhalla Command Center
Transnapastain

Since the terrorist attack less than 8 hours ago, the entire country had entered a state of turmoil. No place was more frantic and chaotic than the Command Center, where the OIS was quickly attempting to gain control of the government and military, as per government regulation and protocols pertaining to emergency situations.

In the last 4 hours, the situations had mostly stabilized; most of the urban rebellions had been quelled, with sporadic fighting within the city centers of Cestra Heights and Jorut. As well as stiff resistance in the city of Maylor, where most of the resistance was centered. The 1st infantry division, 2nd armored division, along with the 89th tactical fighter -bomber wing, and the 67th Airborne division had secured a parameter around the town, but had not received orders to penetrate into the town. Also, the 1st Strategic Bomber Wing had been placed on alert states, and was preparing to launch. Over the city, Black Hawks and Huey’s pleaded with the rebels to lay down their arms and surrender, though this was unexpected.

“What exactly are we going to do about Maylor, General?” asked Lt Colonel Hemmingway, acting commander of the (temporally) Combined Army and Air Fleet. The men and women were all seated around a large oak conference table, debating what to do about the situations at hand. The Colonel continued, “I think we should allow the 1st ID and 2nd AD to enter the city, supported by the 89th Fighter-Bombing wing, our victory will be quick and decisive

“I don’t want to give the Army permission to enter the city, those tanks will turn that city into rubble no time flat, and out class the rebels. Totally bad PR, and re-affirms the rebels stance, and could re-ignite rebellions across the nation.” He paused, sipping a clear colored liquid the Colonel hoped was water, but suspected was something more…potent. “Conversely, if we send in troops without armored support, or even minimal armor, there’s a good chance they could be overrun, and encircled within the city. Obviously, our normal tactic of firebombing is out, and, before anyone even suggests it, a tactical nuclear strike is completely out of the question. These are still our own countrymen, and even in rebellion, we must remember that. Also lets not forget they’re acting upon information that, as far as they know, is accurate, for years the OIS has asked the citizenry to trust them without question, and now that has come back to bit it in the ass.”

“Sir, if we allow these rebels to continue to operate, they will gain total control of the city, and the loss of life retaking it will be great, if we strike now, we can minimize our losses, and score a quickly, relatively clean victory.” Said one of the gathered officers

“Air Intelligence and SatRec already say they’re firmly entrenched, digging them out will be difficult. Though, as near as we can tell, they posses little to no anti-armor weapons. The militia is mostly armed with civilian small arms; automatic rifles and scoped hunting rifles.” he paused. “Can Air Intel get us pictures of their fortifications?

“Already done, sir, we’re looking at rudimentary bunkers and pillboxes. They’re using jersey walls as makeshift roadblocks and tank stops, as well as police stopsticks. There’s a lot of activity in the city center, around the capital building. There’s an OISCRU team held up in there, as well as what’s left of the police and military contingent in the city, and they’re desperate for help. We’ve got to get in there, and relieve them.”

“What about an Helo extract?” asked a Major

“Doable, but risky, the small arms in the are, concentrated could bring down a helicopter.” Replied the colonel

“I see, well, have the 89th bomb that courtyard, using precision munitions, and then send in a rescue chopper.” Said General Owen. “Then continue the tactical bombings, offer them chance to surrender after every round. Hopefully the ISA will move soon, and we’ll get some proof that we weren’t responsible.”

“Right sir.”

At that moment, an aide burst into the room

“General, sir!” she said, saluting “the ISA has just sent word, they need us to evac the civilians from the Capital Distract of Transnapa city.” She reported

“What the devil for?” he said

“Sir, they report that there may be minimal risk to the civilian populations when the TSF gas bombs their using detonate, so, it’d be safer if the civilians left the area.”

“Damnit, whenever the ISA used the word “gas” and “minimal risk, I swear my blood pressure spikes.” He paused, and downed the glass of ‘water” “Alright, contact Colonel Mills, have him use his detachment of OISCRU agents, Capital Distract Police Forces, and tell him well send him a detachment of the 6th armored battalion, some Strykers, Bradley’s and hummers, as well as Deuce and a half’s, if we needs to transport prisoners. And make sure he doesn’t mention there’s a possible contamination, the last thing we need is for the population to think that we’re dealing with another Blade crisis.

She shuddered at the thought, as did everyone else in the room. “Yes sir!” she said, saluted and departed

Capital Distract
Transnapa City
Transnapastain

“Attention, citizens, By order of the Office of Internal Security, and the Transnapastani military, you will proceeded immediately, and without question, to the outlying sectors of the city. Anyone resisting will be subdued, arrested and tried on charges of obstruction of justice and interfering with a military operations, as well as treason.”

All across the city, military, police and OIS units moved the civilians out of the city and into the suburbs, where it was deterred they would be safe.

Command Center
Ring Three
Transnapa City

“… testimony on record, and he has been eliminated.” Serken stated. “The mess will be cleaned by now.”

“Good work, Doctor.” Ghast twisted the ISA pendant he wore, watching the screens. T + 00:14:27.82 “And the two escaping Nailiakians?”

“Sedated and resting in the med-tent, being checked for Blade contamination.” Serken moved his glasses. “They’ll be fine, so long as they are unexposed to the Chimera strain. We’ll keep them here, so we can treat as needed. They’ll remain sedated, of course.”

“Good, good. Don’t want any friendlies dead. And they were the only friendly Nailiakians present, too. That’s solid luck for them, and us. This will be clean.”

“Yes, sir. The Chimera will work exactly as you wish it. I assure you, my work was perfect. Those tangos inside should be feeling the strain by now.”

“No doubts from me, Serken.” Ghast turned to the computer screens. “The Transnapastaini authorities are pulling their civilians out, and this is keeping them busy, as well. The Noviet forces must be turned blind, though, and the terrorists must feel secure as they sweat… It’s time to start the sideshow.” He picked up a radio. “Execute Jester.”

Across the lines, the order was relayed. General pullback, all units. Noviet, ISA, any remaining Transnapastaini, they were all to retreat to the edge of Ring Three. Transports moved back, a V-30 took off from behind cover, heading away. There was a general stand-down on the lines.

Ghast’s headset began to buzz as the retreat order relayed through the networks. “That would be Arseneaux.” He commented, ignoring the call and giving his commands. “Hunter Teams are to take position and wait for Darius. Jaeger, PROTEUS is go at that time. VIPER units are go when PROTEUS opens the hot zone.” He stopped for a second, placing his ISA cap on his head, over his slick hair. “Darius is go… now.”


Sub-Basement Bunker
Chancellery Building
Transnapa City

For Darius Jensen, the alert was a simple word. “Go.” The Field Commander grimaced for just a second, then placed his “game-face” on, swinging up into the exhaust shaft, climbing towards the levels above. Inside his sunglasses, diagnostics were flipping past, and multiple weapons hung from his suit. The P3 was under his arm, the Commando on his chest, the Needler was on his hip. He placed one hand over another, approaching the main level access. He knew his job… get to the surface, relay status of the opposition.

The clang of his hands resounded through the tunnels, quietly booming in his mind. Back into the slaughter, the joyous cacophony of death. One hand, another, the third, and on, and he was level with the vent. He looked through it, and the tactical glasses shifted into Thermal Vision, showing the all clear. He pushed in, and swung himself through, rolling to his feet, the Sag Commando shouldering up to his arms.

He was standing amid the statues of the past, some great sculptures of leaders past, pristine works of art hanging from every surface. Transnapa Gallery. There was a footfall, and Darius blurred behind one of the marble busts, ducking into the recesses of plaster and paint. Between the statues, a man was walking. No, not walking, stumbling, staggering. The man was blotched and stained in blood, coughing up chunks and red fluid with every breath. He drifted from side to side, blind eyes flickering, gasping through parched, cracked lips, reaching forward for something, some oasis-

The man fell, landing hard and lifeless on the ground, shaking and shuddering. Blood was pouring from his mouth, his nose, his ears, and his eyes. He was moaning, sweating. Urine was spreading from beneath him, and he gasped in ragged breaths, still coughing pieces as the blood pooled around him. He moved slower, his eyes fixing upwards, his skin growing gray.

Darius simply watched, crouched in the gallery, his lips curled in disgust. Chimera. He knew what had been used. He turned to follow the trail of blood the dying man had left, walking his eyes from bloody print to bloody print. At the top of the stairs, over the gallery, another terrorist was wobbling, blindly gazing down the long flight of stairs. “Dave? Dave?” The man’s voice was cracked, and he stopped to choke, blood spraying out. “Oh, God…” He began to sway.

And Darius stepped out, into the center of the gallery, between the martial sculptures, staring up at the dying man. The man mouthed the letters “ISA”, trying to grab the golden railing and pull up his M8 Carbine. But Darius did not shoot as the man struggled, his sweaty palm sliding over the rail. The terrorist lost his grip, crashing into the wall, pinned by his own arm, choking and shaking at the top of the stairs, trying to command a broken body to move.

“You… you… did this…” blood poured from his mouth, his eyes wouldn’t focus.

Darius began to walk up the stairs, towards the fallen man, not raising his weapon.

“What is this…” he was coughing now, and one of his eyes began to swell.

But Darius simply climbed to the next balcony, only steps below the man. The M8 tried to steady, but it waved, back and forth, a drunken weapon.

“What’s going *cough* to happen to me? What’s- GAH!” The eye detonated, the fluid erupting onto the ground, and the man screamed out, his voice piercing the quiet halls.

And Darius stepped next to the whimpering, bleeding invalid, plucking away the M8. “It’s over.” he charged the weapon, looking down at the man again.

“Pl… ple… *cough* shoot me…” He screamed again, as another vein burst deep inside.

“That would be too much noise.” Darius simply picked the man by the collar.

“No…”

And Darius hurled the man down the stairs, the Nailiakian tumbling past the marble, bouncing and bleeding, snapping and popping, his limbs bending awkwardly, spurting blood at each impact. The body rolled to the bottom, crashing pillar. Lifeless eyes stared upwards.

Darius touched his throat. “Enemy is no threat. Operation is go.” He closed the codec and began to walk towards the banquet hall, wiping his hand in disgust.


Over the Main Hall
Chancellery Building
Transnapa City

The open hatch showed the green-shifted air that whipped past the V-30. The massive vectoring turbofan adjusted, bringing the VTOL into hover mode, above the main roof. Below, the glass dome of the Banquet Hall glimmered over a blast shield, and the hostages waited below. That shield hid the V-30, but it was not necessary, for the craft was fully thermo-optically shielded, showing only in the ultraviolet.

The unit inside was the best, an ISA Hunter/Killer Team. There were twelve in all, dressed in weaving fiber-optic combat armor, lightweight and mobile, the second generation Wraith Suit. Most men carried a Sag-2 or ACR, and the marksmen carried EMSR rifles, while every single operative wielded the devastating N.01 Needler Assault Pistol.

“Enemy is no threat. Operation is go.” Darius’s words rang in the back of the V-30, and the pilot locked the craft stationary. In the cabin, a terminal lit. PROTEUS has disabled Roof Sensors. The pilot gave a thumbs up to the back, but it was only from habit. Each of the Hunters had already seen the message in his holographic visor.

One man patted another on the back of the pack, and the Commander motioned. Ropes fell from the sides of the V-30, four in all, dropping past the wings and vector plates, suddenly becoming visible as they emerged from the field. Down came the Hunters, three per rope, sliding onto the roof and scattering around the dome, crouching with their weapons pointed inwards. They were mere blurs of motion, shaky outlines of translucent light, like flickers in peripheral vision, like water on a camera lens.

In their HUDs, they saw each other, they saw the outlines of the hostages and hostage-takers below, clear as day through the de-activated faraday cage. One of the men placed a box on the glass, toggling a switch. A timer began to count down. The Commander tapped his throat. “PROTEUS, open the roof.”

Deep in the bowels of the mainframe, PROTEUS came active, stripping away the control from the computer terminals, deactivating keyboards and mice. Doors flew open, cameras turned off, the system failed in simultaneous horror, overpowered by the might of a true AI Construct. High over the hostages, the blast shield receded. The sympathetic resonator on the glass was vibrating, feeding the dome’s own resonant frequency back into itself, building into a climax of sonic devastation. There was a shriek, and the glass disintegrated, falling away like crystal rain on the crowd below-

A terrorist looked up-

The snipers fired, the EMSRs humming. Beams of electricity arced through the air, and hearts stopped, brains shorted-

Liquid shadows were dropping into the room, sliding down falling cables, spraying blue fire that traced through the crowd, picking out targets with contemptuous ease as the Nailiakians tried to lift their atrophied limbs-

The glass was striking the ground-

Bodies were crashing amid the horrendous rings of crystal shards on stone, drum beats to the tinkling bells-

And the Hunters were on the ground, snaking through the shadows, choosing the slain-

Far below, the sewer grate exploded, the VIPER units spilling into the halls, their hulking forms looming in nightmare visage before the stupefied and infected guards-

Flamethrowers billowed, and bodies burned-

A shotgun snarled, and dust flew in the blood-

The Nailiakians were counter attacking, firing into the ghosts and demons, the Hunters and VIPERS. One could not be hit, the other could not be hurt, but the shots were streaking-

A Needler snarled, spraying ammunition as a long range buzz-saw, cutting through men and structure, sending a pillar tumbling to the ground-

A grenade exploded-

A VIPER stepped through the fire, red eyepieces beaming out, into the smoke that whipped around its boots, the trench-coat billowing over the armor, raising the MANTIS rifle-

Blue lightning crackled, and flesh cooked from the discharge-

There was screaming-

Silenced shots, bodies falling-

The roar of caseless weapons-

The V-30 was circling now, spraying its minigun into the courtyard-

An armored truck slammed into the front of the Chancellery building, a HAZMAT tunnel dragged behind-

Agents were piling out, connecting the building to the ISA Medstation via that tunnel-

Darius stood over the carnage in the center room, looking down from the gallery balcony as the Hunter Teams did their work-

Jarvis loomed behind him, maddened and crazed by the Chimera cooking his Blade-snared mind. The bloody man raised his Desert Eagle in one steady hand, his eyes transfixed forward, his mouth open and frothing-

Darius felt the heat behind him, heard the click of the Eagle coming out, and he seized the closest object, a bust of the Executor, whirling-

Jarvis fired, and the chrome slide danced, fire lancing out-

But the weapon was off course, the bust shattering against his hand, and Darius was diving to the side-

Jarvis spun back, snarling inhumanly. Darius rolled back to his feet, drawing his Commando. Jarvis pointed the .50, fired again. Darius dove backwards, flipping from the balcony, catching the tapestry, sliding down to land on the landing below. The shot impacted high above. He raised the Commando, waiting for the man to lean over.

But Jarvis didn’t lean at all. The huge man simply leapt from the balcony, looming against the light above. Darius’s eyes widened, and he fired, the Commando bucking as bullets spewed into Jarvis’s falling body. But Jarvis hit the walkway in front of Darius, barely fazed as the hole erupted in his chest. He used his impact to shove the smaller man back, along the walkway.

Darius tumbled back, crashing against the wall. He glanced up through swimming vision. “Why aren’t you dead?”

“Nyugh!” was the only reply, and Jarvis’s arm fell from his side, cut clean by the Commando’s earlier firing.

“Mind Blade?” Darius exclaimed, staring at the disintegrating man. But Jarvis was charging him, intent on bull-rushing him into the empty air over the room.

Darius dove to the side, and the larger man slammed past, crashing into the balcony wall. Jarvis rebounded, swinging wildly, and Darius ducked past a pillar, pulling his Needler out. The tribarrels began to spin, and he stepped back, waiting for the enemy to emerge.

The air fell silent, the sounds of gunfire below fading into nothing. There was simply dripping, panting, and the whir of the tribarrel Needler. Darius felt his heart pounding, his ears ringing. Where is he?

There was another crash, and Jarvis appeared, lunging at Darius-

The Needler snarled, blue fire tracing onto Jarvis-

The two collided-

Darius fell back, rolling under the larger man, still firing, lifting the Nailiakian with his boots as he flipped back, onto the stairs-

Jarvis launched out, over the air, falling in two as the Needles separated him at the waist-

His torso fell into an ancient suit of armor, crashing to the ground-

His legs smacked a statue from a pedestal-

Theft alarms began to sound-

The Needler clicked empty, smoking-

Darius exhaled-

The torso began to move, crawling back up the stairs-

A single blast from a shotgun disintegrated Jarvis’s mutilated head, and Commander Trask raised the gun to his shoulder, the old soldier smiling up at his protégé. “Nice work, Wonder Boy. You shooting for the Olympic tumbling competition, Darius?”

Darius simply lay there, on the carpet, letting the Needler fall from his hand, staring at the ceiling. “Sweet Jesus, Commander. He was a fucking Blade Zombie.”

Trask ascended the stairs, “All the better. Now there’s a reason for this mess. It’s all Blade’s fault, not a traitor in the Directorate. PROTEUS pulled all the data as it exfiltrated the networks.”

“And we’re telling that to Transnapastain?”

“Once we’re out of the city, I’m sure, and in some veiled fashion.” Trask smiled and lit his cigar. “Get up, we’re policing the bodies. Can’t have any evidence of Chimera, you know.”

“The hostages?”

“Being kept sedated and treated, with memory reconstruction, of course.”

“HAZMAT tube exfil?”

“Sure thing. Come on, lets get out of here.”

In the corner, a VIPER soldier was “cleaning” up, spraying a pile of bodies with his flamethrower, destroying evidence. Down the hall, ISA Agents were spraying the walls down with cleanser, under the guise of getting rid of TSF.


Outside
Media Conference
Transnapa City

“… concluding this joint operation. It was through the joint efforts of the various governments that we solved this crisis. This is a tribute to the power of the allied Directorate.” Ghast smiled, taking a sip of bottled water as the cameras flashed. He pointed to a reporter. “You, ma’am.”

“Commander Ghast, so the offenders were Nailiakian? They were under a “Commander Jarvis” of the DDC?”

“Rogue Commander, I assure you. The Nailiakian government has been quite helpful in this situation, and they are waiting to prosecute any remaining members of this ring.” He smiled again, perfectly. “You, sir.”

“When will we be able to re-enter the inner rings? I understand you’ve locked everyone but your own people out, Commander Ghast.”

“Hardly, good sir. The TSF gas we used can contaminate the area, as your information packets should explain. We are simply using our first hand experience to clean up the fungi before we leave, and to treat those exposed. The first of the victims have already been released to you.”

“Casualties?”

“Sadly, the Executor of Transnapastain, but the only others were the perpetrators of this crime. Several of our agents, whose names will not be released, as per doctrine, suffered minor injuries.” Ghast tapped his pressed uniform. “I now turn you over to the new Executor of Transnapastain, who will lead us in prayer…”


ISA Headquarters
Corsingard
Kaukolastan

Director Kerrik placed the PDA on the desk. “So it’s true.”

“Yes, Director. Blade traces have been traced to the subbasements of the Chancellery, as well as in the blood of the Executor. Jarvis got it from the Executor, he didn’t bring the contaminant into the scene.”

“Troubling… this would explain the erratic actions of the Executor, but the vector is unknown… this must not come to light in this heightened state of emergency. Destroy the Executor’s body, blame the terrorists.”

“Aren’t we going to warn Transnapastain about the risk? If one became affected, others might as well-”

“Of course. We will express concern about the trace evidence. Lead them to the Blade, but let them put it together themselves. That will both solve the risk and absolve our role, allowing us leeway to find a cure before they begin to purge the Undercities.”

“Sir?”

“You do not see the outcome? They will become more fanatical, more devout. The OIS is disgraced, the Church is raised. We will let them find the information, so they both forgive Nailiak and do not rush to action, as if we had rashly declared the truth. This is a dangerous new age, and we would do wise to lie in the shadows until the Ascension.”

“Yes, Director.” There was the sound of a door closing, and Kerrik stared into the new day.

Undetermined Location
Transnapa City
Transnapastain

The 1st thing Vice Executer Viki Hessian saw as she slowly opened her eyes was a bright, blinding white light. Where the hell am I? she thought as she squinted against the light, trying to determine where she was. Am I dead? If im dead…why am I still in pain…and why the hell is my shirt unbuttoned…and where’s my bra! she thought, If this is yet another ISA practical joke…

It was then she head the sound of movement in the room, turning slowly, she attempted to focus in on the people in the room, she could barely hear them speaking, but was sure she caught the words, “clean” and “contamination” mixed in with the rest of the dialogue.

One of the doctors noticed that she had moved, and that her eyes were open. “Ah, Vice Executer! You’re awake.” He said, “How are you feeling?”

She attempted to glare at him, but only managed to squint, falling back onto her pillow she said, “Not very well, all things considered. I feel extremely tired, and weary. My memory is also a bit fuzzy.”

“Aha, hmm, that would be a side effect of the poison used in the punch. None of the other hostages seem to recall anything after they fainted.” He said, partly to himself, as an observation, and partly as an answer to her question

“Hostages? Where are we, how are you?”

He looked at her, then, suddenly “Oh, my, I gave you the wrong idea. No, no, I’m with the ISA, terrorists, disguised as OIS Shock Troopers, seized the Capital building, and, sadly, executer the Executer. The OIS, and military, moved to deal with the rebellions that cropped up as a result, which are now mostly contained, I might add. The government contacted the ISA, and we were more than happy to help in rescuing the hostages.

“Of course you were” she said. Adding mentally you’re very own people where in there.

“Well, in any case, we’ll inject you with some stimulants, and you’ll be free to go, they need you up on the line, Operations Commander Ghast is preparing to give a press conference, and, I’m sure the public would like to see you alive and well.” The doctor moved, and injected her with a hypospray in the neck. Almost instantly, she began to feel stronger, more able.

“Thank you Doctor.” She said, as she stood up.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Oh, we had some clothing brought in for you, there a bathroom nearby you can change in, and we have a driver waiting to take you to the conference.” He said, handing her a duffel bag, and pointing.

She took the items and headed for the bathroom, entering, she changed her clothes. The attire was her spare uniform, no doubt the ISA had raided her house to acquire this, as well as her ceremonial hat. She donned them, and headed out. She was cycled through the airlock, and entered the warm summer night air. Nearby, an Agent stood leaning against an unmarked sedan.

“Ma’am.” He said, opening the door for her, she steppe din, and he closed it. Stepping into the car, he started it and began to drive. It was then, as they passed the Chancellery building, that Viki noticed the scene around the building. Bradley’s and Strykers were parked on the front lawn, along with several different helicopters, and Kaukolastani VTOL’s. Agents from several different organizations were scurrying around the scene. She noticed several of the windows were broken, and the front door, which was concealed by a tube. The ground around it was littered in debris, and she could see several damaged art works and furnishings being carried from the building, she also noticed the absence of the Skydome over the Grand Hall.

The sedan came to a stop just down the road from the capital building. A podium had been erected, and already, press agents from several different nations were gathered. Nearby, she noticed an ISA Operations Commander chatting with several agents.

The Agent driving her car stepped from it and opened her door for her. She stepped out form the car, and thanked him, as she strode towards the ISA Commander. He stopped talking as she approached, and every agent turned to pay attention to her.

“Vice Executer.” He said formally, “its good to see you alive and well.”

“Thanks to you, I’m told, but, did you have to make such a mess of things?” she asked, half joking.

“We apologize for the mess, and I’m sure the government will send something in the way of compensation.” He said, smiling back.

“Well, now that you’re here, we can get this thing started.” He said, turning, he stepped up to the podium.

Ghast talked for several minutes about the joint operations, and finally he said, “I now turn you over to the new Executor of Transnapastain, who will lead us in prayer…”

She stepped up to the podium and smiled “Thank you, Operations Commander.”, turning to the crowd, she began

“Today is a dark day for this great nation. We have lost our beloved leader, Executer Alexander Simon. Though these terrorists may strike at our head, though they may attempt to hold sway over our nation, they will not.” She gestured towards the assembled agents. “It is through the combined power of the Directorate, and by the Grace of God, that we will preserver. Though they may try to hurt us again, they will not. For our resolve is great and our will is strong, and nothing shall stand in our way. The Lords blessing on you, Transnapastani, Kaukolastani, Noviet and even Nailiakian. Thank you. She paused and then began a prayer. “Our Father, who aren’t in heaven…”


Several days later, Viki Hessian stood before the Synod, as a High Priest read the oath to her.

“…Do you, then, swear allegiance to your nation, church and God, and do you swear to serve and protect all of the aforementioned with all your being?”

She smiled, and smiled. “I do”

“Then, with the approval of the Synod, and the blessings of God, I hereby appoint you the Executer of Transnapastain. May you reign within God’s favor, for many fruitful years.” The gathered dignitaries began to applaud loudly. Once again, the nation had returned to peace, new leader at the helm.