The Clover Rebellion
Gardens, The Nacitav
The storm clouds had parted early in the morning, and the perpetual rain had ceased for a brief while. The sun cast a bright light onto the land through a gap that has revealed the long hidden sky. It was a day to take to leisure, and most likely few were working today. Very few chances do you get to enjoy the sun at all, but it always threw your garden into bloom. The Royal Gardens especially had been thrown into full bloom as soon as dawn came with bright rays, and were now lofting a faint fragrance about. K. Patches had sprang up, and Imported Lavender was in full bloom. The Arch'Juscte called for the Mistress of Defense earlier to join her today in the yards.
Having a full basket of Byzantine, a bit of politics needed discussing. "Arch'Juscte-"
Looking up from weeding a K. Patch, she shot a leer to Yishi. "How many times have I asked you not to be so formal..."
A small blush crossed Yishi's face. "Well, after all the press conferences one takes to, it can be a bit difficult not to refer to-" a deep breath "-The ruling figurehead of The Nation- formally."
"Did you just shout at me? With sarcasm?"
"Good. On to more important matters, That Red Clover needs to be pruned..."
"You don't prune Red Clover."
"Would you rather speak of The E incident?"
And a shear would be taken to the poor little plant. "You know my office is congested enough with this thing, I don't need it when the sun is shining. Besides, we need to talk about the Utilitarian Party."
"Help me weed this out and tell me what worries you."
"Well, you see." Placing her basket on a stone ledge, she came to her knees beside the K. Plant. "The Utilitarian Party has been making threats against the Capitalizt Secondary Party, and a recent car bombing at their headquarters has been blamed on the U Party. The CC is making outrageous demands at the moment regarding restrictions on political rights-"
"Yishi... Not while the rain has gone for the day... You have to learn to live. Enjoy the sun..."
"Speaking of, it just got a bit dark, did the clouds pass over again-" A small glance overhead, and she froze. Yishi slowly rose to her feet, dropping the shears with a dull thud into the bed they had been pruning. "Nyx. Up. Chapel."
"What are you babbling about?"
"You should really pay more attention to your surroundings Nyx."
And a small glance upwards would bring Nyx to realization.
"Mistress Nyx, up, now." Yishi would pull her to her feet, and turn her, shoving her across the grounds. Protectorate Squads rushed into the gardens from stand points and began firing at the ship.
"Yishi, A C-class, In the gardens-"
A siren soon after followed in suit and wailed away as a hail of gunfire erupted in the yard. A large explosion followed and silenced the rattling of ground rifles, a small crater now replacing the Protectorates. A C-class was hanging above the gardens. Not a particularly threatening vessel in the military, but any military vehicle in The Naticav was a violation of umpteen laws, and a lethal threat to the Arch'Juscte as seen by the state.
The C revved, spewing a blue flame behind to scorch the lawn, and screamed across the yard and over the heads of the pair. It swung around in pinpoint precision to face them as a brilliant wind whipped about. It's bulkhead sprang open immediately as six men would storm out, charging across to Nyx and Yishi in a mere blink. They would trample over into the clover patch they had crumpled in, and surround them, shoving pistols to their heads. A gruff voice would speak out from behind a mask.
"Arch'Juscte Nyx, Prime Mistress of the Holy Republic, you have been relieved of your duties and will now be known as nothing more than citizen Nyx. Your administration and governing body is hereby dissolved. Your Socialist system is now abolished. The governing force of the True Republic is now implementing martial law and installing a capitalist-"
Sirens and gunfire was playing in the background, smattering of battle heard abound in the Gardens. Nyx had not a word. She went blank after the man had refused to address the Republic as Holy. The Theocracy as Holy. She stared blankly at him as he finished his rambling.
"Juscte Yishi, Mistress of Defense, you have no existence as of now."
Yishi's eyes would spring open wide as a hail of fire pummeled her from all sides, shattering sound itself. She wailed as the firing stopped, coughing up everything and convulsing wildly, her insides ripped to shreds. The firing squad parted and allowed her to fall to her side, blood spilling onto the lawn forming a dark puddle around her and reaching Nyx' knees.
"My people... Will not allow this... " Her eyes had struck into the man facing her, staring with stone cold eyes of a radiant umber, jolting the man to take a step back.
"Citizens of the Republic, this is Tyanna Shintos reporting."
"I regret to inform you that your nation is now in a state of chaos. Since exactly eleven thirty this morning, The Nacitav has been under siege. During which, in this time... The Arch'Juscte has since disappeared.
We have no idea whether she is living or still alive. The only surviving witness is Mistress of Defense Yishi, who is currently in critical condition at Syny Island Hospital. The situation at the Nacitav has become significantly worse as we find that the group now identified as the 'Buddy Capitalsim' political party, has sufficient support from forces outside of the, Former Republic. As our forces try to reclaim the Holy Capital, an explosion in Emulov has destroyed the Parlaiment Hall. Riots have broken out in the Administration Complex, as BC Supporters storm the Ministry Buildings. The Political Capital of Emulov also seems to be falling as Ministers are lynched by BC mobs, and fires rage through-"
And static would engulf 2276.
"The time of reckoning has come my brethren! Those who have not shwon faith to Aliliah have no chance of salvation! It is too late to redeem yourselves-ah! It is to late to pray-ah! Look foward to an enternity in the balance with nothing-ah, but-ah, suffering!"
"-And if you pull, you come out with a brilliant Ceochet Bag! Now let's try that in blue."
"Capitalism is the way! You Commie pigs had it coming to you! Down with the Theocracy! Free the market!"
][ Aside from a little bump here, I forgot to ask the obvious. Anyone interested in playing a Capitalist Terrorist group? ][
][ Just a.. Tiny little.. Bump.. ][
((OOC: I'll be the Terrorist group, posts from now on will not represent Crsyindom))
"We have Nyx, sir."
"Show her to me."
Scuffling noises were heard, then a third voice rang out, a female. The first man pushed her toward his superior, who leaned forward, examining her. He ran his hand across his strikingly pale face, scratching his rough fingers on his stubble-ridden cheeks.
"Hide her. Lock her away. We will fake her death, there will be chaos. There will be hopelessness. There will be FEAR-" He pounded his fist on the shabby slab of wood that was his desk. "-in Fodmodmadtol. And we will be the ones to quell it." He threw a frighteningly joyous smirk at the Arch'Juscte.
The subordinate gave him an unsure look and then grinned, shoving her to the other gruff men. He had a tan face, obviously he was a foreigner from the way he slid his tongue, his accent. He was also considerably younger than his superior, who was about 45. He barely grazed 24.
"Go out into the cities. Find a woman that bares just a tiny resemblance to Nyx. Even just the same hair color will do, I don't give a damn. There won't be a body for them to examine. Don't leave any trails. There will be a anonymous videotape played on satellite. It will be broadcast across the nation-" He paused, exhaling slowly. "-this country has stood too long on a corroded foundation, too long on shaky principles. We shall pluck the tails from between their legs and reform!" He threw his balled-up hand into the air.
A few of the men smiled, even clapped, but the darkness held their support. There was only one light in the abandoned desert bunker, covered by a sand dune, and it swayed so threateningly. It finally settled, cascading light into the leaders large, pale brown eyes.
2 days later
"Finally. The news. My pessimistic portal to the world." John Smudek smiled and flopped down on to his floral print couch next to his wife, Margaret. He flipped on the TV with a wide grin on his face.
It soon disappeared into a look of sheer horror. Instead of famaliar anchors, a videotape was broadcast in low definition. Even with the poor quality, it showed a woman chained to a wall being brutally cut through the middle by two men holding a rusty saw. His wife shrieked and he frantically made a reach to change the channel, only to find that every channel had the same videotape. He shut it off and stared blankly at the TV screen.
The day after
"-reigns even more freely now that a videotape was released into the public, sporting the death of Arch'Juscte Nyx. An anonymous party, much believed to be the Capitalist Terrorist group, broadcast the video just yesterday to all television stations. The video itself was in poor quality, leading some skeptics to think that the death was faked. A recording was played after the broadcast, which repeatedly played until authorities had stopped it."
A muffled yet rough voice, hidden by a voice alteration, then followed.
--"We will not bow down to your Theocracy, your senseless campaign of ignorance. This is just the beginning of the end of Fodmodmadtol as you know it."
Nacitav Chapel- Entrance hall
A bead of sweat rolled from a ruffled MPs' nose. His uniform was tattered, scorched, and drenched. The rain had started up again, and the humidity never ceased. It was dark at the moment though, one thing those clouds could be relied on for was that, the cover of night in the day. The entrance hall was by far too large to sprint across without being shot, let alone with a few dozen explosives to plant. With no light though, he just might be able to pull it off.
The Rebels had set up a faction in The Nacitav Chapel, which from they set up all communications and coordinated all movements. They had siege of the place for a week now, and other allies had been sending them assistance with regard to militia. This entire city was technically under their claim at the moment, as was the entire Republic.
Technicalities are always forgotten though, in any game that you play.
He readied himself, and jumped from behind the wall. A few dozen bullets speared into him, sending his form spiraling to shreds to the other side of the foyer, blood spraying a little bit of everything. The tatters that were left of his uniform were somehow snarled on the chandelier...
Nacitav Chapel- Front lines
And a small red dot would casually blink off from the screen of a PalmPilot. "Ludvik, we lost him."
Ludvik had been staring blankly at the Chapel off in the distance for about half an hour. His hair was far from closely cropped, everything being of a brownish blonde color. His face was rigid and stern, eyes of a fuchsia tint framed within. His large, but feminine frame as most of this species would be compared to, was leaning against the side of tent. At the moment he was quite the opposite of passionate.
"Ludvik, what do we do now?"
And a retort in a gruff voice. "Blow it up."
A gust would blow the dust from his stiff military garb, sand swirling along the side of the tent.
Emulov City- Residential district; Grandison Flats
Every city was hush today, not one willing soul out on the streets. Good reason for this though, who would want to go wandering about in the nations current state? Government patrols were out night and day, and rebel factions were roaming the streets. No order what so ever, and even if you could summon the courage to get past the anarchy in the streets, mourning should cripple you to some extent. Alleged assassination of a religious figurehead. Tsk tsk tsk.
Every city was hush today. Every home was not. Specifically- Nokona's.
Her flat was engulfed in darkness at the moment, it being around one in the morning, no lights had been bothered to be switched on. "Sweety.. Don't worry, I'll be home very shortly. Just stay with Auntie Pheral and you'll be fine, okay?
A little girl stood there in the dark, face glinting with tears. Her citrus eyes were gleaming as a sobbing fit burst forth. "Mommy- You can't- Leave me! I don't want you to- Go!" She fell onto her mothers shoulder as a well of tears burst forth.
"I have to sweety.. I have to make sure you have a safe playground.."
"I don't care about a playground! I want you!"
"Sweety, look at it this way." She took her gently by the chin to lock eyes with her. "It's not just for you, I want to make the playground safe for your friends as well. So that way you can all play together and be happy. Is that okay?"
"Promise me you won't get hurt..."
"I promise. Now go run off to bed, it's very late. Auntie Pheral is even asleep."
"Good night mommy..."
"Good night Ili, I love you." Her daughter would sulk slowly off to bed, sniffing.
She strode on heel out into the equally darkened corridor, and turned a bit to lock the door to her flat. "Cudgeon, how long is the trip?"
An officer standing just off to the side is first noticed. "A good hour. Nokona."
The two stood in the semidarkness for a moment or two, the silence being broken by herself. "Just, get me there."
Zimovy Isle. MP [ Military police ] Army Base
A strong wind ripped through the air, sending many a hat adrift into the small lake that separated Zimovy Isle from Fodmodmadtol main land. Not that it would want to be conjoined. With all the rebel hubub, and Buddy Capitalist threats, technically it was safer to be away from Fodmodmadtol shores. Technically.
A small jeep, adorned in a splash of green and brown, sat atop a hill overlooking a bridge some 50 yards away. It was almost impossible to spot. In it sat one man, matching the color of his automoble. His bronze hands, left hand marked by a small vertical line with two wings, held a tight grip on a walkie-talkie that he settled on his right thigh. His brilliant tangerine-tinted eyes glared at the road laid out before the bridge, where a convoy of large military trucks was spitting up dirt as it made way for the Army Base.
It was the same man who stood before the Rebel leader. The same man who had gave Nyx to him. The young foreigner who was already tangled in the webs of politics. As for his name, no one under the Buddy Capitalist group carried them. Names meant identification, indentification meant knowledge, and knowlegde meant trouble. The Rebel leader had no name either, he was simply known as the aforementioned title.
Explosives planted. Convoys checked. Inventory: unknown class weapons, medicinal supplies, and food, over.
The foreigner paused, watching the convey reach the bridge. He pulled out binoculars and peered into the windows, alas they were tinted. He would have liked to see their faces before they went. He then shifted the lenses some yards ahead of the convoy trucks, trained eyes picking out the small, yet powerful explosives, as a child would find a listed item in a hidden picture game. He grinnned and held the walkie-talkie up to his mouth, still watching the convoys.
Wait until all trucks are on the bridge. There's only five of them, so they should all fit with a few feet of the first truck to solid ground. Then set off the explosive. Move fast and quick to the tunnels, you will have about three seconds. The military will be watching every movement at the bridge after the explosion, I will meet you underground. Over.
What sounded like recognition was heard from the other end, at that it had to have been, because as all the trucks were on the bridge, fire skidded after them. The whole structure seemed to pull into itself and then burst out, sending a sickening burning smell into the air. Smoke smothered visibilty, though it was quite certain that the trucks had been decimated, as their charred parts devoured by fire made their way down the water rapids.
The foreigner lept up, manuevering his jeep away from the area and down the hill, disappearing into the secret lair of tunnels.
Nokona would stare idly out the window. Her hazel eyes wandered around in boredom, glinting as they caught whatever little light there was. She ran her hands back through her rust colored tresses, pushing them away from her eyes and off her rounded cafe palette. She glanced over to Cudgeon in the Hummers driver seat. He was so rigid at the moment, and seemed a bit stressed out. She reached over to tug at his ear.
"How much longer until we get there?"
He swatted her away, glancing over with shamrock green eyes, a smile expressed that engulfed his walnut colored face. He pulled his hat down a bit more to protect his eyes from the oncoming glare, sandy hued tufts flowing out from the back.
"A few minutes until we reach the bunker, then straight to the Ministry. We're about to exit the tunnel now, so you might want to put on some glasses..."
The Hum-Vee was cruising through the interstate tunnel, in complete darkness. No electricity down here for one reason or another. He pushed the pedal into the floor and they lurched forward, both of them jutting a bit with the sudden rush of force. Both reached into their pockets and slipped out a pair of sunglasses. The black car came screaming out of the tunnel and into the open, the cab becoming inundated with light. They forced on the glasses as they came into the glare. It lurched up onto the street from the exit and swerved onto a side road. Nokona squinted through the sunglasses attempting to see the lane, leaning towards Cudgeon as a deep boom was heard.
They were cruising down a decimated block of row houses now, an eerie brightness cast over the sky. As the buildings passed by, she noticed that every window on this block had been blown out. Other than that though there was no real damage. And then, snow? Another resonating boom being heard while shaking the car, her eyes forced themselves shut as she cringed. "I thought you said the Napalm assaults had stopped!"
"They had, for a few... Minutes..." He pulled the car around a corner slowly, pulling up onto the sidewalk. "We'll wait until the raid ends, I can barley see in all the light..." He grinned a bit, glancing to her. "It's amazing though, how a napalm raid can barley phase you after a few years."
"You don't have a child at home, Cudgeon. As soon as this raid ends-" Another loud, resonating boom was heard as the sky flashed overhead with a yellow aura. Flame seemed to burst in the clouds themselves as embers rained down upon a small section of the city. "As soon as this raid ends, I want you to burn tail."
She looked out fearfully into the surrounding buildings, all covered in snow. No, not snow. It was ash.
Zimovy Isle. MP [ Military police ] Army Base
Buddy Capitalist Tunnels
The foreigner, accompanied by the two men who had blown up the bridge, set off in the murky underground tunnels below the army base. Crude, oil-slick water leaked from the ceiling, greasing the hair of unsuspecting passer-bys. What they didn't know was that that same polluted water that fell from the cieling was an ingenious tracking device. Hundreds of the small chips were planted into bins of stored water hidden just above the tunnel ceiling, but not above ground. They were set to leak almost profusely, denying any chance of avoidance.
The trio took a sharp turn right at a fork in the tunnels. More like labryinth. Those indigenous to the tunnels would find their way through. Those not, would die. The foreigner traced the raw mortar that ran through the stones as he made his way to the R.L's double's office, that is, Rebel Leader. After a few more minutes of winding through the tunnels, they found themselves before a filmy, water-soaked wooden door with a large ring knocker in the middle.
"Redlead for Modfod"
The code was greeted by silence. Then metallic clicks, and soon the door opened to a dark chamber, engulfed in the same, dull quietness. The R.L double's office (though a visitor could not tell) was flourished with a single desk and a few chairs in the center. Large machines and computers ran up both sides, for communication purposes. The back wall had nothing.
To understand the Buddy Capitalist group, you must understand its system. The R.L is supreme, omnipotent. To go against him would mean certain death for you and family members, if you had them. Afterall, Rebels had no family, no connections, no leads. No identification. No risks.
Second, the R.L is never seen, save for his most trusted and highest officers. None know his location. Many rebels die for a man they never see, for a dream they never dreamnt. The R.L's doubles would serve as protection. They were merely puppets, sent out to do his bidding, and if necessary, they were killed to fake the end of the Buddy Capitalist group. There were about 20 of these doubles, all placed in stragetic points in Fodmodmadtol.
"The bridge is gone, as you know. The military officials inside the base have positively alerted mainland authorities, and if I am not mistaken, they are on their way now. We have precious little time to conquer the base."
The foreigner spook smoothly, stumbling on only a few words because of his accent. For instance, he pronounced "conquer", "co-on-qu-er".
The R.L double stirred, then stood up. He gestured for the foreigner to sit down before his desk and then sat down again.
"How many inside connections do we have?" The double's voice was weak and high pitched.
"35, at the moment. Inside the base there are 300 men. Our men are placed in the five turrets that circle the base. At my signal, they will turn their anti-air guns into the building and fire. They will have 4 rounds. In the confusion, our underground forces of an equal 300 will come through the tunnels inside the base on all sides. 100 men will take the garages. The remaining 200 will root through the hallways and kill any military officer in their way. After the garages are taken, vehicles inside will be salvaged for Rebel use and advantage. The operation will be quiet, fast, and unnoticed until the base is taken."
The foreigner raised his head and looked across the desk to the double, who was staring at his desk, trying to find the answers there. Then he looked up at the foreigner and smiled.
"Give them the order."
The foreigner grinned and walked out the door, already armed and ready for the operation. The two TNT engineers followed behind him, also already armed. He strode through a right turn and to a rusty ladder. He pulled out his walkie-talkie from the thigh pocket of his pants.
Operation a go. Get Company A to ladder A, B to ladder B, C to ladder C, D to Hanger Garage Ladder, and F to ladder F. Over.
Roger, roger, the men are armed and heading your way, Captain. Anti-air armed and ready to fire. Offshore military authorities not in view. Give the order? Over.
Loud booming sounds sounded overhead, shaking the already cracked foundation of the stone walled-tunnels. Men flooded through the tunnels to their ladders, hair caked with grease and mortar. The foreigner looked back at the line stretching back behind the turn and smiled, then made his way up the ladder.
"Load! Load! Let's go!"
Shouts raided through the dusty atmosphere as more thunder claps sounded into the military base. After a few rounds, the anti-air gun was done, the dirt still scared to fall back to unprotected ground. Bodies outlined in white stone graves could be spotted from the occasional foot poking out from rubble. Screams from below shattered throw the air, confused as to who to fire at. Stray bullets fell, shooting in circles. It caught one of the anti-air gunmen of Turret 1 in the neck.
The garage was also underground, though not as far down as the tunnels. It was accessed and exited by a single guarded ramp. Jeeps, tanks, trucks, and even small jets slept inside the hangar, peacefully unaware of the hubub above. The guards, however, were not. Unfortunately for them, the garage was on lockdown mechanism, set by the clever system of computers inside the base.
The 5 guards huddled together in a close circle, guns at the ready. A large clank gave out to their right. Then another, only louder. Another. The guards shifted their eyes nervously, searching for the source and praying it was just kinks in the vehicles.
All of the sudden, like an angered hive of bees disturbed by an unlucky kid with a stick, burst out from underground and swarmed the guards, shooting silencer guns and quickly killing them before they could react. It was all too easy now. The Rebels hopped into the vehicles and started their engines. And now came the hard part.
Hallway J, Wing 3
The foreigner stepped lightly on trained feet, making his way through the white maze. He had one intention- get to Communications and blow it up, but not before he called off the mainland authorities disguised as an extremely sorry mixed up officer. The bridge wasn't attacked! New explosives had been testing in the Alpoi Desert were carried out to the docks by trucks. The duds were carried back by the same trucks. Someone had made the grave mistake of placing a live bomb as a dud, and it was set off in the truck. See, the explosions are rigged with a time for explosion and a motion detecter device if needed, it seemed this one was bumped around on the rocky bridge and it activated. We're terribly sorry."
He knew the officials would check this out, so he had a few of the same explosives planted in the Alpoi desert and set off, creating craters as evidence. He even had asked for permission (as a military officer in the Zimovy base weeks back) to test the base's new class of explosives. The whole operation had been carefully planned for months in advanance.
Soon he found himself before an identification pad. He wondered how he had gotten there, being so lost in thought he had forgotten his legs were moving. He shrugged it off and stared at the pad. It required a hand scan, a retinal scan, and a code. Of which he had none. He pursed his lips and turned to the TNT engineers behind him. They quickly planted devices near the door and the three cleared in safe range from the door. What was the worst that could happen? The guards coming to arrest them? The foreigner chuckled at the thought.
A staccado beeping patern went off, then the explosive went off, spitting out parts of the door and inner wall off with it. An alarm rang (along with the what seemed to be hundred others) and the three trudged inside through the debris. 6 wide-eyed Communications engineers adorned in simply white coats stared at them.
"Now. As we can't risk you sending more messages to the authorites, which I'm sure you already have, we capture and/or kill you all."
He smiled at them all, face distorted in such brutal happiness. They stared back with grim faces, still silent.
"All of you, move over there to that corner." They hustled briskly over to the opposite corner as the foreigner walked to a computer and headmicrophone. He put the headset on and sat down before the center computer, stroking its panels lovingly. Then he shot to the huddled white-coats.
"You." He pointed at one in the corner, who was working the same computer he was sitting at. "Come here and show me how to work this."
The man didn't move.
The foreigner sighed and squeezed his trigger at the man, splattering his white-coat with crimson.
"Never wear white." He shook his head and smiled. Then he pointed at another and signaled for him to show him. The man stared at his dead colleague and rushed over to the foreigner's side.
"Send a signal to the military authorities and call them off. Say this exact thing. If you say anything else, everyone in this room is dead. With the exception of Mr. No Participation, who, incidentally, already died." The foreigner repeated the same excuse for the bridge explosion and the Communications engineer repeated it into his own headset. After a few clicks and presses of the dial, the message was transmitted to the military authorities. They didn't buy off. So, one part of the plan had failed. They would have to fight the military officials. How many of them there would be, he didn't know. But he knew any assualts would be from ground, as if they dropped bombs into the base, their men would be killed.
The Rebels would be ready for them.
The garage is taken, no casualities. Barely any gaurds on duty. The highest ranking officers we kept alive, but the privates were shot. Wing 1, 2, 3, and 4 are taken. Company A: 11 casualities. Company B: 38 casualities. Company C: 31 casualities. Company F: 43 casualities. The base is liberated. Operation sucess.
A wail was heard in the sky, a faint one, but one that seemed to be coming strong with no intention of going away. The twilight of dusk had engulfed the horizon with spectacular orange and maroon hues. Fluffed clouds of pearl shimmered with warm colors highlighting their accents, as they released a light misty rain onto a ground already dotted by numerous puddles. The faint wail grew louder and turned into a scream, and a black streak of smoke was seen making its way across the sky lead by a single missile.
The chapel was silent now, as were the gardens. The low white block walls that separated the lavish Nacitav Grounds, from the surrounding congestion of Iutobi City, were crumbled. Half of the lawns had been scorched and riddled with small craters, leaving an offbeat balance where vibrant lush greens abruptly change to a barren stretch of mud and cracked earth. The brilliant blossoms that once graced these gardens was torn to shreds, the myriad of wonderful color it produced gone, reduced to shades of brown and red with smatterings of the occasional white stone, bush, or corpse. It seemed as if the rebels had abandoned it as a center of their efforts, and evacuated elsewhere. Still, principle said it was to be blown up. Silly thing called pride.
The screeching now roared overhead as the 'Howler-Pyro' made it's way to it's target. A few windows shattered as the constant shriek of the projectile rattled and cracked through the air. Much clattering were heard throughout the city as the sound shattered anything the least bit frail, computer equipment included. The many stories of the K. Medical Admin. Tower rattled slightly as it honed in, it's glass exterior seemingly to ripple. With a deviant shout, the missile slipped into the city, and by the count of two made it's arrival.
The chapel was consumed in a ball of flame that rapidly grew to consume the entire grounds, a blast of air, sound, debris, and heat pushing itself further out. The chapel was obliterated in a bang. The rush of the explosion blasted away fringes of Iutobia that reached in on the grounds, but not much further inward. The sound wave itself shattered every window within a good ten miles. The K. Medical Tower seemingly exploded at the utmost floors, glass shards raining down as lethal crystal unto the hallowed and void streets below, joined by the smatterings of the many rows of buildings lining the cracking roads for miles. Heat simmered and groped out in a huge gust of winds to the streets, melting anything worth it. It took a minute for a good debris cloud to form and stagger it's way outward, leaving an inferno of a crater to be made out in the thinning center. Fingers of white and red reached up to the sky, fiercely pungent, spewing out a spiral of thick black smoke to taint the sky which now blazed in a yellow fury.
South Side Bunker
"Ludvic, strike confirmed."
An unnatural, dim silence wrought its spindly fingers around Zimovy Island, choking it slowly into submission. It was the breath before the leap. The calm before the storm. And not one man stood unafraid of the approaching gale, nor counted withering minutes out of his flaking grasp.
A turret gunman panned the hazy grey undulation of the lake before Zimovy, prying through pastel, rusted eyes to make out shapes of ships. The foreigner stood a little ahead of the man, lacerated hands resting on blank stone windowsill. He then turned to his side, pausing for a brief moment, then scuttled past the guard and down the rough steps. He walked briskly across the 75 yard courtyard and rushed into a white building. It was cracked and riddled with debris.
Muffled voices dappled through the doorknob and at the foreigner's ears. He paused once again, then walked in.
There was three men, one sitting down with his chin resting on his right hand. The other two were standing at his sides, seemingly angry. A woman sat in a chair, blindfolded. Her hands were behind her in handcuffs.
"Is this her?" The foreigner shot out, his voice raspy from lack of air.
The man sitting down nodded, bristling his mostache. A few flakes of whatever was in there dived out.
"Alright. The military will be here any moment, so get Nyx to the R.L'S office." (He of course meant the double's office underground.)
"Yes, sir." The two standing man walked over to Nyx and hauled her up, much to her protest.
"Shoulda gagged her."
OOC: You need someone to supply the rebels, just drop me a TG.
Iutobi City.South Side Bunker.Medic Hall
"You took out... The Nacitav..."
"Yes, Prime Minister Yishi."
It was a dark room in the bunker. A small one as well, but had room to spare for emotion at this time. A steady rhythm of blips swelled in the silence, a green line staggering across the only monitor in the room joined it in synchrony. The monitor was the only glow in here, there being no lights or decoration to adorn the concrete block walls. A dim and eerie scene, broken by only the steady blip, blip, blip. A cacophony of tube and wire dripped from the ceiling into a body laying curled onto a small cot. It seemed as if the ceiling was non existent and that a myriad of serpents were fighting with each other to consume one tiny soul. Yishi was the soul.
Aside the cot was a small wooden stool that occupied a whole quarter of the room. Here was Ludvic, slumped over in his arms, eyes closed and tearing. A down trodden look was held about him as he peeked at Yishi in the darkness from between his hands. "I can't believe you're here.. You were barely breathing.." He smiled a little, patting her cot. "I'm glad you can be with us.."
"I won't be for long, and you know that.. I want you to listen tonight Ludvic, I have things I need said.."
Her eyes glinted like sabers in the darkness, glaring a hole into Ludvic. A small glint flew silently down her cheek when she closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare. Nyx is alive.. She is.."
"As you wish.. Yishi.."
"The Rebellion. It was in the making for years now. I don't know why I hadn't put a stop to this earlier when I had the chance, but that's been buried with the hatchet." She feebly waved about her hand in a dismissive gesture. "As you know now, the Rebellion is headed by Buddy Capitalism.. This party has support from other nations willing to overthrow us, but smaller ones that I know of. This group is a good quarter of the Republic in population, although now they have attempted to break away and establish new boundaries, correct?"
"Well, Yishi, the situation is actually much worse than that. The Rebellion has actually, obliterated much of the Government. They do not just want to break away, they want to take charge of the Republic as we know it. They want to install a new Government, a Democratic one, a Capitalist one. The want to abolish the Socialist Theocracy."
"So it's worse off than I had intended it to be.. Great welcome into the realm of the conscious..."
"The Republic as of now is sufficiently in tatters. They've obliterated the Administration, killing off most Ministry members as well as tearing apart any high ranking officials in the Church or Military. There's no one to take charge, and that's what's holding us back. We have Military Police forces everywhere trying to keep order, but there seems to be a front forming along the, Wichita Line.. They've taken the Wichita Line as well as Zimovy Isle.."
"Is the Minister of Immigration dead, Ludvic?"
"Unfortunately Hiriki was killed-"
"Good.. He deserves it.."
Ludvic would stop speaking now, blinking a few times at her, allowing himself to think. The steady pace of the monitor dazed him for a moment, and then shook himself out of it with a quick blink. "Deserved it." Not really a question or a statement of any sort, just a repetition.
"Wichita Line... That carves out roughly... All three mainland Provinces... So great, we're incapacitated... And from Zimovy Isle you say, so that also means we're flunked in the sea as well..." She would quiet down now, thinking a bit on the state of the Nation, and what she would have to do as Mistress of Defense. Her eyes would then snap open, realizing something she had overstepped.
"Ludvic. Why did you address me as Prime Minister."
"That is your title now, Yishi. That is you status in the Government."
The room quickly became inundated with the speedy mock of the monitor, pacing much faster than before. "Ludvic, I need to rest for a minute."
Iutobi City.South Side Bunker.Entrance
A loud cry and the car came swerving to a stop at the mouth of an alley, random bits flying from it and binking around. All of it's windows had been shattered leaving jagged edges lining the doors. The tires had been singed and were glopping onto the pavement, beginning to lose their shape as soon as the car stopped. A random panel sizzled and just plain fell off, clanging a bit on the ground.
She threw open the door, it falling off and landing a few feet away. "Cudgeon." She picked herself out, pushing off the soot from her clothes that now had a filthy gray hue rubbed into them. After tucking her ash caked hair back with a flip of the hands, she took a dignified huff. She turned to leer at Cudgeon, and couldn't help but channel every ounce of hate at him. "Please die."
Seeing as how the drivers side was all, crumbly and such, Cudgeon squirmed out the passenger side door with Nokona. He brushed off his officers uniform, and tried to release himself from a coat of dirt. Looking to the car, and back to her, he kicked the car grudgingly. "At least it held together, eh?"
A stony gaze was locked onto him though, the aspect of humor lost on her. His grin slipped away instantly as she folded her arms across her chest, attaining a business like air. "If you haven't noticed, there isn't a person around for miles. Mind explaining Cudgeon?" She ambled over with a cocky presence, smothering Cudgeon with smugness. "You said we would be safe here.. and I was greeted with, well.." A wave to the car.
He really blew her comments off, and just tugged at her sleeve. Pulling his cap down a bit he strode down the alley. He paused for a moment about halfway down, and peeked around to Nokona still at the alleys mouth, seemingly no intent on moving without an answer.
"Put it this way Nokona- Welcome to the front lines."
The silence that so gripped tightly on Zimovy Isle was broken by a distant, celestial hum. Every head would turn to spot grey forms, fondling the patched and broken clouds. They continued their consistent and droning hum, engines whizzing. The shapes became bigger, more detailed as their elevation dropped, and soon their tires were squealing on the runway that lay aside to the base. Shouts could be heard as men ran out to the ships, hands cuffed and jackets on to brace the bitter cold of that foggy morning.
The authorities should have arrived, but with the fog, it had to have delayed them.
He ran outside, waving his hands to the pilots. A few, from what he could see, nodded to him as they jumped down from their small cockpits. The planes, or jets rather, were small, stealthy, adorned in splashes of pale grey and white. They looked as if chunks of the clouds had fallen on to the runway.
A strange emblem had bore home into each of the jet's tails, it looked like the famaliar curved paw of a panther that stood guarding a nation's flag, only it was twisted and contorted horribly.
The foreigner abandoned his eyes on the emblem as he talked with one of the pilots, who was decorated quite immensly.
"Where are you from?" The R.L must have called them in and failed to tell him.
The pilot pointed to the emblem he had left so much interest in.
"See that? Crsyindom underground. While it doesn't seem like Crsyindom has much for defense, we have more B side arms than you may think."
The foreigner gazed at the medals on the pilots chest, still confused.
"We run under the Minister's branch of government. She has acknowledged the Buddy Capitalist's group's cause and has sent us to Zimovy, seeing it as the only real safe to land as of now." There was a glint that lingered threateningly in the pilot's eye.
"What is your name?"
"Farrell. Bob Farrell. I see you've noticed my badges-" He glanced down. "-most of the underground soldiers serve in the army. I've been a pilot for Crsyindom for..19 years, is it?"
The foreigner nodded, though was suprised at his experience in the military. He barely looked older than the foreigner himself.
"We've got military officials coming to inspect. Of course, by now they've been informed of Rebel liberation over the base. This is where you can help-"
The foreigner looked down, trapping gravel underneath his shoe. "- my men are weak. We lost many in our attack of the base. Almost half of our numbers are decimated. I need you and your crew to fly over the bay and spot any foreign aircrafts. As of now, that sea is a grey zone, and ANY foreign ships are a target."
It was not a request.
The pilot nodded, and turned back to his men, putting on his helmet and waving his hands. They nodded and returned the gesture.
"We'll need more fuel. I'm afraid we won't be able to communicate with you until our mission is over."
The foreigner nodded, knowing this well before. He turned and cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting at an officer pacing to the runway's main building some 20 feet away. He instructed him to fill the pilots tanks, the man nodding, and running faster to the same direction.
About a dozen tracers flew into the jet's tank along with the gasoline. It caused no damage to the jet whatsoever, unless the jet would fail to follow course. It was a precaution necessary to take.
Farrell boarded his plane, revving the engines and spinning it around to face the open water.
His radio buzzed from another pilot beside him in his jet. Farrell smiled and answered back with a sly remark.
"Not exactly. Look who's next to me!"
Iutobi City.South Side Bunker.Foyer Entrance
Ludvic stood at full attention in the small foyer. The room was wide enough for a door to be planted in front of him, and a small light to be fixed to the side. About two people could fit in it at any given time, and no more. It was very bright, but only a small bit of light trickling in from the skylights in the vaulted ceiling a few stories up. The scone off to the side was more than enough to illuminate the tiny space. The high walls were lined in a rich white marble, the floor of an ornate peach tile that had been sufficiently scuffed by the constant grinding of a rubber heel.
He had stood there for a half hour now, at full attention. He stomped his shoe again, growing ever more impatient. He deftly swept his hand into his white coat, retrieving a cigarette. With a flip of the other hand, he had it lit. He took it up taking a long drag, and puffed out thick smoke up into the room. He slid both hands into his pockets and stood there for a bit looking up to the skylights. Chewing slightly on the cigarette, his eyes began to glaze over. The silence was shattered by a screech outside. There were a few more bangs out in the alley. Then he spat the cigarette to the tile, stomping it out.
He cleared his throat, waving his hand about to dissipate the smoke. There were a few shouts outside and then silence resumed its control. Ludvic leaned forward a bit, and tapped a few numbers onto a number pad in the wall. He stood straight, assuming a salute. The steel door in front of him slid open to reveal two, very startled, ambassadors.
"Ambassador Nokona, Ambassador Cudgeon. Welcome to the Ministry. Follow me please."
"Don't mind her, she's just a bit. Ruffled."
"Ambassador Cudgeon, Ambassador Nokona, pleasure to meet you. I am Commanding Tactical Officer Ludvic. Prime minister Yishi is downstairs waiting for us, so if you wouldn't mind following me-"
Ludvic now cut off, and arched a brow taking them in for the first time. He glanced up and down the pair, and gave a small laugh. They looked as if they had walked out of a furnace, clothes sooty and singed. He looked to Cudgeon with a grin of humility though, who met him with a leer of daggers. A lingering glance ended by a small cough. A small gesture into the small room behind him and he turned his back to them. Nokona and Cudgeon exchanged a threatening glance, and sidled into the foyer. The door slid shut behind them, clicking loudly.
"Now if both of you can just give me your access numbers, we can proceed."
"B-00133. Nokona is J-76007."
"Can she not speak for herself?"
"She's chosen not to at the moment..."
"Very well." His fingers danced along another keypad in front of him. "This may take a few minutes, so sit tight."
The door began to rise, as did the keypad. Or to be more accurate, the floor began to fall. Cudgeon looked up to see the skylights begin to gradually float upwards. The veins of marble weaved as they descended. He reached out and let his fingertips glide slowly along the wall. He glanced to Nokona who was still a bit disgruntled, to say the least. She was more on the infuriated side, as she refused to look at him. Ludvic began to tap his foot impatiently. The surrounding abruptly changed from a smooth marble to a rough granite block, and the deck dropped quickly with a heavy shock.
"Ambassador Nokona, Prime Minister Yishi wants you in her company. You are to attend to her. Yishi is waiting for you in the suite at the end of this next hall. Don't wander off on this level." The lift would halt suddenly. A grate in the wall sprang open instantly. "This is where you get off."
"The suite at the end of the hall?"
She stepped off the lift, turning to get an affirmation from Ludvic. The grate snapped shut in her face, sending her a step back. Cudgeon and Ludvic were already gone, leaving her to stare into the empty shaft. She glanced to her sides, then turned about to the hall. It was a short, dimly lit section. The walls were of the same rough granite in the shaft, and the floor was a worn flagstone. Above her was just white plaster. There was only a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. With a sigh she sauntered down the small stretch, and met an only a wall.
Then it slid open. A meek voice echoed out softly.
The lift traveled on for several more minutes, countless grates ebbing past on the way. The shaft was very dry down here. The heat had risen significantly. The walls were very rough, not as clean cut as before. It was now quite dim as well, only a pinprick of light being made out at the top. The hum of the lift cast an even tone, interrupted by the occasional clank.
"Ambassador Cudgeon, you will be accompanying me to Zimovy Isle. MP Base. We're going in to speak with the rebels. When we reach our level you are to change into the proper attire, as you seem to be a bit soiled, and join me in Bay 3. I have to go and get some disks from the server, so just wait for me in Bay 3 and go over the reports so you'll be up to speed."
The lift ground to a halt, and a grate on level parted. As soon as the lift settled, Ludvic caught time for a single word.
Cudgeon was on the threshold of the grate when he froze. It was a blizzard cracked through his skull. How dare he use his Lay-name.. How dare he.. A sudden rage flowed into him, freezing him up. He couldn't move as a million thoughts gushed into his mind. But it passed as suddenly as it came. Those same thoughts gushed out entirely too quickly.
"I really.. am sorry.."
Ludvic broke from his monotonous mood, and looked to Cudgeon sorrowfully. He blinked quickly and looked to the ground. He coughed, and strode out onto the level, not looking back to wait.
Cudgeon narrowed his eyes, and spit. He drew his cap down again lower. He crossed his arms. After a few minutes of thought, he was interrupted by a bell going off in the lift shaft. He stepped off of the lift, grate snapping shut. A few more seconds of thought, and he wandered off towards the Bays. He whispered to himself in thought.
"Kaju, Vladyshek, Ludvic. You will remember. To me you don't exist."
She stepped cautiously inside, treading softly. She quickly found there was no where else to go though, as the wall behind her sealed in an instant. Very dark, almost pitch. Very small, closed in. It was a stale air. Her eyes shot into focus quickly though. Small, banal, stark, to start off the description. In front of her, a small stool. To her left, a burning sight.
'Twas the room Ludvic had been in.
She glanced at her for no more than a second before turning towards the wall, her eyes wide. She started to hyperventilate. Her hands went flying against the stone in a fury. A weak attempt to do anything. She slumped down to her knees breathing heavily. Her eyes watered with a heavy tear streaming down her cheek. Her chest was heaving erratically. A few short gasps, and she blacked out.
"Nokona dear.. You're going to do me no good if you're not conscious.." Yishi closed her eyes, and drifted off into sleep. The rhythmic pulse of the monitor drilled through the quiet.
Mission Brief: Ambassador Cudgeon
An air strike on Zimovy Isle MP Base is in order. Before the air strike commences, you and a platoon of MPs will conduct a small raid on the Base. Your goal is to raid the servers we assume they have loaded, and retrieve any information regarding the status of Prime Minister Nyx. Commanding Officer Ludvic will have more Specs on the mission.
Zimovy Isle Army Base, Rebel Control
The roar from the jet engines alerted the foreigner that the planes from Crsyindom had returned.
The look on their face told the foreigner that the pilots didn't have good news.
Farrell held his helmet close to his side as he broke the news to the foreigner.
"Our radar was practically exploding. We're thinking an air raid, why not? Fodmodmadtol can't strike from sea. It'd be too easy for us to pick them off."
The foreigner kept his eyes on the ground.
"We're going to have to give our best shot, or all the efforts here have been in vain. I can only hope that this crisis has helped other Rebel posts advance."
He gazed at the ground, annoyed and somewhat saddened.
The foreigner leaned on the Double's desk, the weak, wooden frame hardly supporting his frail figure. He got up momentarily to lay a blue-print before the Double's tired eyes.
"If we get everyone underground-" He traced a finger from the empty area inside the military base to outside the doors. "-they'll be protected against any military harm. When the Fodmodmadtol soldiers land, they will find a completely evicted army base. Of course, we'll have some of our forces inside the hangar garage." He grazed his finger along the map from beyond the army base to the garage.
"Who? Who will be there?"
"D. The rest of the companies will be underground. Farrell and his crew are taking off now to gather reinforcements. I don't know how long it will take for Fodmodmadtol to get here. I am getting the men underground. Now."
"Ludvic. Eat a used tampon."
"We just have gotten word, there's noting we can do."
The dark that encased them had started to rumble, the confines of their void practically ripping itself apart as it came closer to the ground. Assembled in the narrow, cramped, space were twenty MP's, comparable to a SWAT team on crack, knee to knee. Each was carrying a significant ammount of supplies flung every which way, donned in suits fitted like gloves which complimented their forms perfectly. Helmets shaded their face from view, each like the other, SWAT team clones. Ludvic and Cudgeon were facing each other, but which ones they were wasn't really clear. A heavy shock and the cabin shook violently, gears and swatches clanking as the Officers butt against one another. Ludvic had to scream to be heard.
"When the door drops, move! You all know what to do!"
A loud thud and the shuttle collided with the ground on Zimovy. A crack and roar, and a thin hatch would catapult up. The MPs launched themselves from their bench in the narrow isle, and clambored for the light. Rattle rattle as they charged through to the outside, all twenty spilling out in a perfect line. Dust was kicked up as the shuttle they arrived on rose as the last Officer was stepping off.
One Zero Ten loved the art of warfare.
He also loved igniting controversy, conspiracy, rebellion.
It was because of this he was sitting in a hangar garage stroking the nuzzle of his rifle next to the feet of a plane and a large box of chewing tobacco.
He wasn't chewing any, though. He wasn't going to start now.
One Zero Ten was an optimistic.
His brothers of the rebellion were hardly the same.
"Hey, can I have some of that? I've never tasted it and might as well have it now."
A young man, probably in his 20's with a likable face, settled next to One Zero. His burgeoning black helmet covered most of his face, but from what One Zero could make out he had copious brown lenses, an awkwardly large nose, and an austere, strong chin. One Zero liked him right away.
"G'head. I don't chew, but I brought it anyway. Case a fella like you would want one."
The kid smiled at One Zero, grabbed the box, and plopped his person next to him. He shuffled through his cargo sack for a few minutes before producing a rifle and commenced to rubbing it clean. It was pretty silent in the garage, because there's always too much to say when you know you're going to die and you're never with the right people to say those many things. You could never lean to the guy next to you and say "Hey, I cheated on my wife." or "Hey, I was real sorry when I didn't show at my brother's wedding." That would be awkward. So no one talked.
The garage smelled like stale gas. Like it hadn't been used for awhile, so the normally pungent stentch had slipped into a deep neurotic depression and lust some of its luster. One Zero liked that smell. It reminded him of how his father came home smelling like it.
"We are the children of the revolution!"
A high voice minced the quiet air.
"We are the voices of those who have seen the wrongdoings of those who call themselves our leaders, our helping hand, our solace, our mothers and fathers!"
One Zero stood up, like the rest of his brothers in D squad. He watched his commander in admiration, a grin dappled lightly on his cheek.
"We are the brothers in arms who have known the conspiracies and conspirators who offer us care with their right hand, but blind us with their left!"
"We are the enablers, the inspiration, the invitation of change! We are the deaf, the lame, the mute, the blind who have rid ourselves of the sickness of our government and seen the light of not what is, but what can be! We are the action! We are the correctors! We are the Rebellion!"
A deafening roar welled inside the hangar garage, not unlike the claim of victory over a formidable but dead enemy. That myraid shout of dignity was akin to the inspiration that swept over One Zero.
One thing was clear.
Fodmodmadtol must die.
"Rebellion! Rebellion! Rebellion!
One Zero threw his hand and gun into the air.
"Now. Take your positions."
It was as silent as a grave again.
They had come.
Ludvik grabbed Cudgeons shoulder, and pulled hima way from the troops.
"Man down man down! Fire from the towers! All Troops, inside, now!"
Without hesitation, the Troops began running towards the Base. Ludvik turned Cudgeon around, took his arm, and began running in the opposite direction. He clicked a button on the side of his helmet with his free hand, and opened up a private comm line with the Officer.
"Follow me if you want to keep your life."
He cut out, and continued running as a small whine was heard from far off.
The platoon of men was subsized into two divisions, creatively marked "A" and "B". As One Zero Ten scuttled behind a large stack of crates near about 15 other men, he was reminded of his pre-adolescence and the sprawling banner across the chalkboard displaying the alphabet in cursive. They say a man's mind will project mollifying images through his mind to placate him before he dies. And One Zero Ten was going to die.
A is for Apple!!
He heard the sharp bark of sniper rifles picking off what must be the now-assaulting Fodian troops. A few minutes now, then the storm would be upon them. He'd finally get to kill a man, take the life of another in the honor of his brothers in the revolution, before the revolution would lay him to rest in its cradling arms.
A sharp whine, siren-esque, was growing louder and louder by the second. One Zero ignored it, pushing it off as a passing jet. He'd had other worries-burgeoning, heavy worries- to turn his thought.
Not long now, though he scarcely could hear the shouts and foot steps of Fodian soldiers outside over the whine above.
A is for Abominable Death!
Ludvik and Cudgeon were still running when the missile arrived, jumping off the edge of the obliterated bridge as the sound reached a shrill pitch. The Howler rebounded a supersonic blast in every direction, consuming itself as it arrived above the base. A great ball of fire flashed into existance, expanding to three times its size in a blink, reaching out over the entire island and into the shallows of the sea, the loose earth tearing to shreds and the waters evaporating. The deeper waves were blasted away, great foaming ripples washing outwards in bass reverbarate tremors. Air caught fire and sizzled, people of either side being depleted of life without discrimination. Heat engulfed the island, the ocean, and the shore so close. The Howler wiped away anything above the surface. Perhaps even things a few inches down.
Ludvik and Cudgeon continued swimming deeper, the waters glowing fuschia.