NationStates Jolt Archive

"Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of England . . . Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a nation."
-Charles Stewart Parnell

Belfast, North Ireland

The cold wind whipped inbetween the old buildings, the grey stone dark in the stormy air. The rain had been falling for a week straight, and the ground, the buildings, everything, seemed saturated with moisture. The Queen's soldiers huddled around trucks, hoping to get heat from the military vehicles. SA80s hung across their chests, some with grenade launchers. Some wore helmets, other the red beret's of the Paras. They wore camoflauged windbreakers, hoping to get warm in the nasty weather. None of them forsaw the forth comming attack, but they, whoever 'they' was, never did.

It was in the room on the second story of one of the small buildings that the attack would come from. At least the first strike. The room was empty, except for an two men, a table, a cellphone, and a flag hanging in the corner. The two men were lightly armed, one with a British made L1A1 rifle,, and the other with an AK47. The man with the L1A1 carried a Browing 9mm HiPower, and small tin lunch box sat on the table as well.

The man with the L1A1 was dressed simply; a black teeshirt and a stolen pair of fatigues, Irish style DPM. He wore a tactical assault vest with a holster for the Browing, and some magazines for his rifle. The other man was dressed in full fatigues, urban pattern, black assault vest, and a dark green berret. The man in the black shirt looked up from his seat to the other man, standing in a corner. "Are ya ready Sean?

"Aye Ryan, best I'll ever be. I hope this works. We can't mess this up like we have in the past, it needs to be a success, we're running out of funds."

Ryan nodded. "Aye." He stood, and grabbed his rifle. "Do me a favor, and dont get shot, ok?" Sean laughed and nodded. Ryan picked up a cell phone, and hit the 'talk' button. It chirped into its 'walkie talkie' mode, and Ryan spoke. "For Ireland boys. For Ireland."

=

Lt. Geoffry Spoksen heard the shattering off glass over his shoulder, and he spun to see a colorfull lunch tin flying at him. He side stepped, and it clattered to the groun next to the foot of a young private. The private looked down. "Sir, what should..."

He words were cut off by the explosion of five HEFRAG grenades, sending shrapnel from their own cassing, as well as the lunch box, off in a full circle. The force of the explosion sent shards of metal as far as 45 feet, wounding anyone in their path. The private was sliced to ribbons, the lieutenant dead from a chunk of metal that sliced his head off. Two more English soldiers fell, one with a serious stomach wound, the other loosing his right leg bellow the knee.

A medic ran out from behind a truck, scanning the roofs, looking for a sniper. He looked to high, and as he let his SA80 fall, the sling catching it so that he would be able to work on a wounded soldier, a crack sounded from a window. The 7.62mm round from the L1A1 slammed into the back of his neck, between the first and second cervical vertabrea. He slid forward, dead, blood pooling from the exit wound in front of his neck.

Another soldier moved out, his squadmate close behind him. They needed to get to the radio in the truck. As they left cover, Sean stepped out from behind a wall, and sprayed with the AK, sending steel death into the two soldiers. Ryan, meanwhile, sprinted down the stairs. He stepped out beside Sean, the L1A1 hanging from his chest. "Aye, good shot with the runner," Sean commented, looking at the dead medic.

"Thanks. Good job on those two boyos overthere," Ryan replied, looking at the two Englishmen who had been ripped apart by the fire from the AK. One of them convulsed. He walked over to the man, who was still alive. The bullets had missed his heart and head, but three had punctured a lung. The man looked up at Ryan with fear in his eyes.

"Wh..Whhhh...Why?" he forced out, coughing up blood. Ryan looked at him, and unholstered the Browing.

"Ireland," he said, firing into the man's head. He holstered the pistol. "And beacause you drink warm beer."

+

At the police station, soldiers began arming up. Grabbing weapons and armor, they moved outside to where three trucks and a squad car had been parked. However, as soon as an officer opened the door, a circut broke, and a shockwave ripped forth from the trunk, loaded down with two pounds of C4. All the soldiers, as well as the officer, died in the blast, as the trucks, each with a full tank of gasoline acted as a full accelerant.

A man wearing a pair of cargo pants and a olive drab tshirt looked out from behind a window, and nodded. He grabbed his rifle, an old bolt action Kar98K, and walked into the now empty police station. A woman looked up from behind a desk, her hands up. He fired a round into her chest, and grabbed her keys. He opened the the door to the armory, loaded with MP5s, M4s, and other tactical weapons. He pulled out his cellphone, and called Ryan. "I have the guns."

=

It took two hours of subsequient car bombings and fire fights before the first signs of the end of fighting showed. After the two hours, near two hundred English soldiers lay dead, with only 15 memebers of the revolutionary force having died. They had attacked with total immunity, striking from shaddows. Belfast was slowly falling into the hands of the Irish forces.

Ryan, Sean, and another man stood over a map. "Well move southwards at the end of the week, sweep to the border. We'll set up resistance against any of those orange traitorus bastards from moving up. We'll also need to watch the coast for the RM. I'm not worried about the Air Force, we can pick them. What about the other towns?" Ryan asked, looking at Sean.

"So far so good. We control most of the towns, with light fighting in some of the more eastern towns. Looks like the Crown's Army boys are a little resieliant."

Ryan nodded. "Aye then. We can safely say we control Belfast, by tommorow we should have more." Sean nodded. "Right then, release the tape, and lets go get some beer." The others nodded.

Less than an hour later, agents of the revolutionary forces delivered videotapes to several international news stations. Further, the video was released to several internetbased discussion groups, and a few newspapers recieved transcripts of the tape.

The tape was simple. It showed Ryan standing in front of a green flag with a golden harp painted on it. Historians would recognize the flag as the one used not so long ago, hoisted over Dublin during the Easter Rebellion.

Ryan spoke clearly and precisely. "Ladies and gentlemen of the international community," he started in his accented English, "I am Ryan McConnor, and we, the operatives of the Provisional Irish Republican Army, under the authority of new leadership, no longer to be turned on by those claiming to be our friends, have made our move. Today, we struck several small towns, and currently hold control in several areas, including Belfast, and will not fall. Our land, Ireland, has far to long been ruled from across the sea by the treacherous Crown of England. We will no longer stand beside idoly, letting anyone take our lands as they see fit. No longer will our land be controled by those who see themselves as superior. Your false idols, your crown, be it damned by God Himself, will no longer find a place of safty in Ireland. Your soldiers will die, they will be slaughterd till every last one leaves. Until every English foot as left our soil, we will fight. We will not rely on those traitorus orange bastards in the south, nor on those who have offered false promises of freedom. It will be upon us to fight, and we will. Fear not, for if you hold no grievance, we will not strike, but bewarned, we will die if so needed, only for Ireland."

New groups everywhere on the internet lit up. People argued for hours on end on the rightness of this group. Some asked where they could be contacted. Mysteriously, an email address and contact number leaked out so that anyone who wished could find, at least partially, where to reach Ryan McConnor. Ryan waited patiently to see who would react, and how.

[OOC: May I join?]

A face shrouded in shadows watched Ryan McConnor's video with interest. Was the man dangerous, perhaps insane? Or was he a true revalutionary and a hero fighting for the Irish People? Whatever he was, he reeked of profit. The shadowed man picked up a nearby phone and had a short converstion with another unknown person.

"Yes," Said the man's deep voice. "I think it would be best to discuss a possible alliance with McConner. We may be able to profit greatly from him. Yes, that's right. Hmm."

The Voice paused for a moment.

"Send Huntress Rip van Winkle to him. She's Irish, anyways, best find some commen ground. Yes, that's right. Good day....Director."
-----------------
Rip van Winkle was informed of her mission immedietly. Her first job was to find were the hell McConnor was in the first place. She easily aquirred the E-Mail adress and sent him a message.
-----------------
To:Ryan McConnor
From:Special Agent Rip van Winkle
About:Alliance?

Ryan McConnor,
Your actions have been noticed by the Ravean Intelligence Orginization. We wish to establish contact with you to discuss a possible alliance. Where can I meet you?

-Rip van Winkle

OOC: Hrstrovokia, its open, so go ahead
IC:

Ryan looked at the contact. He tossed the idea around. He looked around at his 'advisors', and nodded. "She can come. Tell her to land," he looked at the map, "here, he said, pointing at an empty strip of land, and we'll pick her up. Tell her we'll be waiting." The men nodded, and sent the response to agent van Winkle, with the cordinates of the field, as well as a specified time.

ooc: an enthusiastic tag

[OOC: Yes, for a newb (although it's rather obvious that you've had experience elsewhere) your skills are quite good. I congradulate you and look foward to more of your posts.]

OOC: Thanks for the comments everyone, I aim to impress, lol. I'm about to go to lunch, but I'll have some more posts on this up tonight. Its still open, so feel free to jump in!

OCC:Ah, yes, I forgot to compliment your RPing in my first part. It's rare to see a newb who roleplays this well.

IC:A Black Hawk helicopter landed at the empty plot of land that had been specifed. Rip van Winkle hopped out of it, a long rifle on her back. It was a perfect working model of the old Springfield 04' rifles, which here used extensively as sniper rifles in WWI and In. This paricular model was scopeless, but the Huntress was too good for any scope.

Van Winkle herself was tall, slim, and very Irish. Freckles covered most of her face and she had long, flowing black hair. She wore a formal suit, complete with tie and shoes. She looked around the empty land. Her Contacts were well hidden, but not well enough.

"I knok where you are; There's no reason to hide from me. I could of killed you all already if I wanted to. I want to see Ryan McConnor!"

She felt somewhat home here, among her former countrymen who she knew were present.

"Aye, shes a looked indeed," one of the men said, spying her from the forest. The binoculars magnified the view of the agent jumping out of the Blackhawk. He smiled as she called out. "Fiesty too. Good lass. Lets go grab her," he said, sliding into the driver's seat of the Land Rover. He drove out, and stepped out of the SUV.

"Right this way miss," he said, poppoing open the rear passenger's side door. He hopped back into the drivers seat, and as she entered, he took off. Another man sat up front, an Uzi sitting across his lap. They didn't bother blidnfolding her or placing a hoodwink over her head. Instead, they drove a half mile through a wooded area onto a road.

The ride was short, with the two men sitting in the front making general small talk about the weather. The man with the Uzi looked generally unintrested, and mumbled something about beer. The drive brought them to Belfast. The city looked well cleaned up after a day's worth of bombings and shootings. People strolled down the streets, some buying goods at small food stores. A few men stood on the street corners with guns, other PIRA soldiers, making sure no English soldiers appeared.

They stopped infront of an old appartment complex, and exited. They walked her to a room on the first story, opened a door, and lead her in. The room was sparse, a TV, refrigerator, couch, table, and a few chairs. A man sat on one of the couches, watching a BBC report on the recent bombings. "Those bastards are saying that the Army has the situation under control. It'll take three damned regiments to take this back from us," he said, placing a glass of water on a table, and standing. He faced the Ravean agent.

"Ryan McConnor, Provisional Irish Republican Army," he said, approaching with his hand extended. "How can I help ya?"

=

The black clad soldiers moved quietly through an appartment complex on the other side of Belfast. The found the door they were looking for, and posted up, leveling their MP5s, waiting for a go signal. They had traced the number to this apartment, and were about to contact McConnor in a very personal way.

When the lead man placed a breaching shotgun against the lock, the team stepped back, and preparred to enter the room. When he fired, they rushed in, moving towards the the corners in order to secure the room. Lasers from the MP5s danced across the dust of the room, looking for targets. They found none.

"What the bloody hell?" one asked, seeing that only a message machine sitting on a table. He moved forward, holding his MP5 to his side, and picked up the machine. A high pitched whistle filled the room, pierceing the air. Seconds later, a trip wire activated bomb exploded, killing all six men. The machine had been rigged to a small wire that led to a cabinet on the wall, which held a pound of C4, and three bottles of Nitro Glicerine to act as an accelerant.

Wombat News Report (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7592729)

"I think the question, McConner, Is how can we help you," van Winkle spoke as she sat down, peering into the Irishman's Eyes intently. "Now, it's all well and good that you have basiclly usurped the English out of the area, but they are sure to return with a large army. I have no doubt about this. Ravea is willing to supply next-gen weapons and body armor, and perhaps some troops in the near future. These supplies will also help with the future liberation of the rest of Ireland."

The Huntress paused and put her hands on her lap.

"Now, What do we want, you might ask?" She stared at McConner. "A hand of Power in the government. Influince. Perhaps a hidden agent in Parliment. But most of all, the English. We despise them. On the outside, we would just have an alliance, trading powers, and an embassy, but on the inside....Lets just say Ravea has found your fight for freedom in it's best interest."

She awaited McConner's reply.

"You're either in or your out. Right now."

Ryan didn't need to think about it for more than a second. "Aye, were in." He removed a bottle of whiskey, and poured two shots. He offered one to van Winkle, and took his own. "So when do we get the goods?"

"I can get it to you within fourty-eight hours, easy. Rocket Launchers, Heavy Machineguns, Tactical shotguns, Next-Gen SMGs, plus the latest in Ravean body armor. We can also provide medical equiptment and food."

She took the shot glass and downed it in less than a second.

"The only condition is that I stay with you as an observer, and mabey combat supporter."

"Deal," Ryan responded, pouring another shot. He poured her one as well, and held up hsi glass. "To new friendships, fights, and good looking red heads. As you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way!" He clinked her glass, and downed the shot.

"Sean, Dave," he called out to two men. The driver, Sean, and the passenger, Dave, both stepped forward. "Escort this fine young lady to an empty room in the complex." They nodded, and Ryan looked back at van Winkle. "You can have your suppliers drop supplies where we picked you up. That little airfield is well secured from prying English eyes."

He paused momentarily, before continuing. "Right now, we're just aiming to secure towns. Our best estimates looked to be just a month, but now with your help, we should be able to get it done much sooner. After we secure teh major English operations areas up here, we're looking towards the Crown itself."

He was quiet as he looked over at Sean, who nodded his approval. "We've got an agent on the inside."

bump for veiws...

Very very very enthusiastic tag...check your tgrams...

Sir Richard Dervish read over the reports as they clattered across his desk: Scotland Yard, MI5, CIA...all spoke of the bloody violence that had erupted in Ireland at the hands of PIRA. His anger boiled within him, and with a quick slap of his massive hand, he swept all the paperwork off his desk. He punched his intercom button hard, almost breaking the small device.

"Ensign, get me David Lowell over at Vengis. I need to see him now. Code Blue, authorization code is Alpha Delta 911."

He walked over to his porta-bar, pouring himself two fingers of bourbon though it was not yet noon. It was going to be a long day. There had been rumors floating around that the rogue Irish terrorists were planning a big strike, but this horrific series of attacks had surprised everyone in the intelligence community. Now, they were all scrambling, trying to put together a response while being shackled with the internal rules of their own agencies and governments, which meant no response at all.

"That's what Vengis is for..." thought Sir Richard as he downed his drink.

Belfast-

The two men, dressed casually, moved forward quickly. As the sun broke in the distance, the two men, both of the Ulster Defence Association, were each armed with two fragmentation grenades, and a pistol under their coats. They had a target, picked after weeks of studying movements and communications intercepts. There was also the two heavily tortured nationalists they had captured months before the past few days. Sure, the Catholic Nationalists may have taken control of Belfast from the English soldiers, but they would never have the nation.

The approached a small pub, one that was used by both loyalists and nationalists alike. They slid into the front door, and looked up to Sean, Ryan's right hand man, sitting in the corner. One of the men pulled his pistol, and fired five rounds into his chest. Amid the screams of the crowd, they pulled the grenades, dropped them, and ran. Seconds later, the small hand explosives blew, blowing the glass out of the windows, killing 30 people. Another 40 were wounded from the explosions. And Sean was dead.
____

The statement on Ryan's desk was simple, very forward. The UDA had struck out. They refused to sit by while the English left, they would not loose Ireland. Worse, Sean was dead. He had been Ryan's best friend since their first days of playing football in the yard after school. He had stood by Ryan's side since the first days of joining the Provos. And most intresting of all, he was, or had been, a Protestant. He was 15 when Ryan had convinced him to convert to Catholocism. Sean had been kicked out of his family, and he denounced his own name.

Ryan tossed the piece of paper aside, swearing. He looked up at one of his other lieutenants. "Rory, go grab van Winkle for me." His words seemed colder than usual. He pulled a black wool mask of the table. It had been a year since he had worn it in an attack. He shoved it into the pocket of his pea coat, and grabbed a gun, an H&K USP Tactical .40 off the table. As he pocketed it, van Winkle came through the door. He looked her in the eyes. "When can your people get us the guns?"

The Huntress checked a PDA from inside her jacket.

"Exactly thirty-seven hours, give or take five minutes. Just tell me where you want them to be delivered and we'll do it."

She slung her Springfield over her shoulder and turned to McConner with a frown on her face.

"One of your men told me about your friend, Sean. No doubt English assassinas, or loyalists to say the least. What do you plan to do about it?"

McConnor pulled the pistol out of his jacket, checked the magazine, and reseated it. "We're gonna go ta war."
_____

It had been three days since the assasination. The English soldiers were slowly falling back, the current PM having decided that it wasn't worth the blood shed. Of course the Protestants felt betrayed, but the crown was letting them all come to England, free of charge. Oddly, despite teh protest of British troops leaving, few left their homes. Those that stayed would soon wish they had taken the English up on their offer, as the real war was about to begin.

The pub on the corner of the street in Belfast had been a commonly used Protestant drinking establishment. It was now being used as the headquarters for the UVF. Several men sat around a large round table, loudly discussing their next target. The convorsation was soon brought to a halt, not by a vocal interuption, but by a blast. Outside the pub, a ford van pulled up, loaded down with several pounds of C4 and Nitro Glycerine and Gassoline. The van was parked close enough so that the blast ripped right into the pub, killing everyone inside.
____

In Derry, several UVF marchers walked down a street, shouting for the IRA to give up, claiming the north as the land for the Protestants. Some people jereed, others applauded. Some threw rocks, others shook the men's hands, joining them. They rounded a corner, and headed towards Derry Free Square, home to the event known as Bloody Sunday.

As they turned the corner, they found themselves looking towards a black SUV. The side door opened, and a masked man jumped out, raising a ominous looking weapon, a Russian made RPG. He dropped to a knee, bringing the weapon up. He squeezed teh trigger, and the explosive shot down the street, slamming into the ground right infront of the Protestant group. The shrappnel ripped through the UVF group, killing them all instantly.

People scattered down the street in different directions, wiht the SUV speeding off after the shooter jumped back in.
_____

Back in Belfast, Ryan sat in the passenger seat of an older Land Rover. He checked his pistol, clicking the safty off, and attaching a silencer. He looked over at the driver, and pointed to a small apartment block. The driver pulled over, and stopped. Ryan pulled down his mask, and exited the SUV. He ran across the street, his driver behind him holding an Uzi, and leaped over a small fence.

They walked around behind a wall, and towards a window. As they neared, Ryan pulled his right fist into his peacoat, pulled his fist back, and slammed it into the window, shattering the glass. The driver ran up, stuck the Uzi into the window, and opened fire. He let off 20 rounds, before Ryan pushed him aside, and climed in through the window.

He followed the sound of footsteps to a open room, a man running towards a door, his back to Ryan. Ryan fired, sending several .40 BTHP rounds into the man's back. He turned to the driver. "Search the apartment, see if we can find any guns or ammo. I know we gave the co-ordinates of the drop point to van Winkle, but we need to take everything we can while here."

In the CRI ( CHerry Ridge Intelligence) building, a briefing landed on the desk of Fredrick McHughes. It read:
"The IRA has retaken many strategic towns in Northern Ireland. Here is the contact." It had the phone number leaked out.

He called it.
"Fred Hughes, CRI. I am calling on behalf of the Cherry Ridge government, a Catholic theocracy. How can we help YOU" he said into the phone


ooc- sorry about the other thread. Please rejoin it.
Green Flag, great thread. W

OOC: Its ok, we all have our bad days

Ryan grabbed the phone out of his pocket. "Ryan McConnor?"

He heard the statement from the man on the other end of the line. "Aye, thanks for calling. Umm, help us? Not quite sure, I think we could just use intell for now. UVF and UDA locations, stuff like that. Maybe weapons to, what ever you can give us."
____
Moira-

Five men exited a black van, running across a street. People stood, watching in awe as the five men, armed with AK 47s and AK 74s and an assortment of pistols. The target building was an older pub, hardly used by anyone.

The posted up next to the door, and the lead man, masked like the rest, spun to face the door. With a hard kick, it flew open, and he rushed in, followed by teh other four. A bar tender looked up, then at ten men sitting at a table in the corner. "Aye, its them damn..."

He was cut off, gunned down by a hail of rounds from the AK 47. The men in the corner stood, one comming up with an Heckler and Koch MP5. He sprayed at the gun man in front, catching his shoulder, dropping him. He was stopped, however, by anotehr of the masked men, who snapped of a single shot into the shooters face. Blood splatered on the wall

The ten men were gunned down quickly in a hail of fire, there bodies spread out over the floor. The lead of the masked men stood, brushing off some dirt, and looking at his wound. "I'll be fine," he told one of his soldiers. He pulled a green square of cloth out of his pocket, and tossed it onto the dead bodies. It was embrodierd with a golden harp.
_____

Derry

The small church had just closed its doors for an 11:00am mass. The dark sky threatend rain, but the four men outside, all Provos, didn't mind. Each was armed with an M60 belt fed machine gun, and had taken up positions of hiding on the four corners of the Church.

A white van pulled up outside the church, and a man stepped out. He looked at the Church, nodded his head, and borke off into a run. As he sprinted, he reached under his jacket.

"Aye, you, stop right there!" one of the IRA gaurds called out. The runner didn't, but instead sprinted faster. THe IRA gunman stood, raising his M60 to his shoulder, and squeezed off a burst of 7.62mm ammunition, cutting the man down. He ran up to the dead body, and kicked it to roll it over. A South African made BXP submachinegun rolled out from under his jacket, and the IRA shooter sighed in relief.

Seconds later, the van ripped open in explosion, as five pounds of C4 and a several cans of gassoline exploded, killing the nearest IRA gunman, and wounding one of his ocunterparts. The explosion ripped into the Church, and 40 men, women, and children were killed instantly. Several more were wounded from shrapnel and falling debris and burns. The preist stummbled out blindly with his people, a shepard leading a flock. As they exited the building, another white van roared up, and three more UVF soldiers disembarked, opening fire on the crowed with Russian and American made machine guns, killing the priest, and 25 more innocents.

Under cover of night, a John Bell Hood class Submarine from the Protestant Triune Kindom of Reichskamphen surfaced at several points along the coast of Northern Green Flag Ireland, each time, releasing 10 men in a raft that floated ashore. Carefully avoiding the coastal patrol, they hid thier rafts in the brush, and clad in civilian clothes, made thier way to civilization...blending into society.

These men were all from Northern Irish descent, so it wasn't very hard for them to do so. They brought with them cases of assault rifles, grenades, rocket launchers, and every other concievable kind of armament that could be hauled out in a raft. The cases were buried several feet deep in the wooded areas near the coast at points that each team would remember. Nearly 50 men in all infiltrated, waiting to make contact with the UVF and the British Military.

OOC: GFI, I'm going off from where we were in teh TGrams, if thats ok.

IC:

Fortier sat back in his seat on the modified MH-60I Nighthawk, the Imitoran version of the famed special forces helicopter. His eyes were closed, but in thought, not sleep. The weight of the two recently purchased custom .45s under his jacket eased his mind, as did the kevlar vest he wore under his dark green shirt. Normally, he owuld have dispensed of such things, but this was different. He was going into the real belly of the beast, and last tiem he had been in a combat zone, he had a full suit of battle armor and an automatic rifle, and he was trying to kill terrorists. Well, then again, one man's terroroist is another man's fredom fighter.

He felt the soft 'thump' of the helicopter hitting the ground, and looke dout the window. Four men, armed with AK-47s, stood waiting. He stood, and jumped off the helicopter, nodding to the men. Despite Fortier's advice and promise of his saftey, the door gunner kept his minigun focused on the four men. Fortier began to walk forward, removing his sunglasses, and tucking theim into a breast pocket on the dark black coat. His stride was confident, yet yeilding, letting the for IRA gunmen know that, at this time, he was under their orders.

He approached, hand extended, and greated the men. "Robert Fortier, Ambasador of Imitora. I assume you'll want to hold onto these," he asked, setting down a carbon fiber breifcase, and opening his coat. The two forty-fvies glistened in the light, and Robert reached into his coat, and puled out the pistols, handing them over to the men. He picked up the briefcase, and followed them off into the forest as the large helicopter left the ground.

The ride into Belfast was short, and brought them to a decrepit apartment building. Fortier disembarked the SUV they had been traveling in, and was lead by the men to the room where Ryan was waiting. He entered the dark room, and found himself standing across from the man. He took his seat, placing the briefcase on the table. "Mr. McConnor, its a pleasure to finally make your aquaintence."

"Fred Hughes, CRI. I am calling on behalf of the Cherry Ridge government, a Catholic theocracy. How can we help YOU" he said into the phone



"Hello, is anyone there" he said intothe phone.

OOC: Its ok, we all have our bad days

Ryan grabbed the phone out of his pocket. "Ryan McConnor?"

He heard the statement from the man on the other end of the line. "Aye, thanks for calling. Umm, help us? Not quite sure, I think we could just use intell for now. UVF and UDA locations, stuff like that. Maybe weapons to, what ever you can give us."

There ya go CR. Just assume that our convo happened before Imitora showed up.
_________

In one of the landing locations, the Reichskamphen men were suddenly 'ambushed'. As of out of no where, red laser beams cut across them, leaving little red dots on their chests and heads. The red dots danced across them, letting them know that any movement would be reciprocated with fire. Before any more decisions could be made, a voice came out of the darkness. "Stand down boyos, these aren't baddies."

A man seemed to emerge from the forest, wearing the standard British DPM cammoflauge, but he was far from regular military. His arm bore the patch associated with the most elite counter terrorist unit world wide, the British SAS. "Welcome to Ulster, I'm Lt. Craig Davenport, her Majesty's Special Air Service," he said, introducing himself. "I assume your here to fight the good fight?"
_______

Ryan nodded to Fortier. "Welcome to Ireland," he said, standing as Fortier sat. "The pleasure is all mine. I trust your trip was pleasant?"

Ryan wasn't sure what to do in this situation. From what intell had told him, Fortier was bringing something rather large to the table, and Ryan didn't want to mess it up.

OOC: They took Belfast! NOOOOO!!!!!

IC: "I am Hugh O'Leary." a man said in a thick Northern Irish Accent. "We're here to help you out. The future Emperor of Greater Prussia, Napoleon the Fourth wishes you good hunting." he then realized that there was some confusion as to why he was the future Emperor. "We are currently deposing the Catholic Emperor as we speak. Napoleon has been secretly chosen by the Royal Family to be a replacement."

Then a man in a Gray uniform stepped out from behind the others. "I am Oberst Helmut Kagenfeld." his accent was clearly Germanic-ish but there were sounds of some French in there as well. "I have been ordered by Arch Duke Dietrich von Oberhausen to serve as the commander of this unit and the defacto Ambassador of Greater Prussia to the UVF/UDA/SAS."

Fortier nodded. "As pleasant as it could be."

He pulled the briefcase up, and dropped it on the table, the carbon fiber case letting out a light 'clunk'. He opened it, and spun the brief case around, showing it to Ryan. "10 million, US. This is just up front, the other 90 million will come upon stabilization. Further, as agreed, we will train and organize the military once you have one, as well as a full pact of defense. Also, should the situation come to it, we can provide a full military backing in the situation. That sound good?"

Ryan stared at the money in disbeliefe. He had never seen this amount in his life. "Aye, it works. What can we do for you now?"
___

Davenport lead the group to a set of SUVs, military Land Rovers, and signaled for them to mount up. The small convoy powered through the forest quietly, moving slowly, as to not attract attention.

Davenport outlined the situation to Kagenfeld. Currently, the Catholics held several major towns and cities, including Belfast, which was tehir center of operations. The UVF forces held Derry solidly, and current fighting, if it could be called fightining at all, was going on over the twon of Moira, with the Catholics having a steady push inwards. None of the combat had become outward yet, most of it had stayed in the form of bombings and shootings, however, Davenport sounded hopefull. Backing the UVF were three SO 19 units, four SAS platoons, and two platoons British Royal Army Regulars. This would give the edge in a true stand up fight.

"Other than that," he concluded, "we're dug in for the long all, and waiting for the next move. Intell is sketchy when it does come in, as MI5 claims they have otehr major worries on their hands that pull the focus off the fighting here. All the units still here are voulountary, none under orders specifically."

Oberst Kagenfeld told the officer, "Well, we sent about 50 militants to help you out. We gave them orders to link up with the UVF or British units as soon as they could. And as for intelligence, the Intelligence wing of the Imperial Gendarmerie, I would contend the equal of MI-5...will certainly give you a hand. You tell us what you want to know, and we will find it out if we don't already know as it is."

He sat back for a second in the car, pulling out a packet of Leipzig Brand Cigarettes. Drawing one from the package, he lit it and began to puff. Withdrawing it from his mouth he said, "I was with the UVF units in Reichskamphen. We didn't start winning until we actually stood up and fought these buggers. I suggest you stop playing around, and start laying some fists down. Don't wait for the next move...make it! All of my men can be concentrated in one area if you like...my reccomendation is Belfast. We have to atleast knock them off centre...a hit and run campaign. The Empire, upon your request, is also willing to send in a few platoons of Elite Imperial Guard who will, of course, be disguised as and work with either your guys or the UVF."

He took another draw on his cigarette, and again withdrew it. "Now...is there anything the Empire can provide you with monetarily or vis-a-vis weapons...other than the ones we already brought. We are perfectly willing to assist you as London never seems to be willing enough, or too scared of the bloody IRA to save the people of Ulster."

"We'd love to make the first move, if we knew where to make it. These little bastards have perfected teh cell operation. THe largest group we found out about was operating with only five men, and they were able to take down five of our operaions centers before we were able to plug them. However, we're one step ahead of you, and are planning on a major offensive in Belfast."

The lead Land Rover turned, and they were soon on a paved road. Those paying attention would have noticed a sign that gave the distance to Derry. "Were lucky to hold where we do hold, the greenies have us pinned well. We've also noticed an increase in Provos presence in certain areas that are of concern, mainly Moira. If we can't take back Belfast, it's definately our next grasp. I say send some of your men there to help with the holding up, and keep the rest ready for the next push against them in Belfast."

THe Land Rovers continued on for a time before pulling into the outskirts of Derry. The men dimounted, and walked into a pub, past patrons, and into a backroom. "I'd love to take you up on your offer of more troops, btu I'm afrais we can, as of yet. We don't want to risk the Provos thinking that we're bringing a big ally into this, and making it an overt, all out combat scenario. We know that they havebeen in contact with some big names, but MI5 doesn't know who. We have our guesses, but they are sketchy at best. Money, well, we have the Crown for that. Weapons would be good."

In the back room, the men found themselves surrounded by an odd assortment of men and women. Davenport pointed out the groups, mentioning who they were. "You have the ninjas," he said, pointing out the SO 19 operators, dressed in the ever fashionable tactical black, "the play soldiers," he mentioned, pointing out the regulars, "and the monkeys," he said, refering to his SAS group and the UVF/UDA operatives. "The names aren't meant to take piss, but for code. I think it would be against the best intrest for all involved if the PIRA figured out that they were going agsint SAS, Regs, and SO 19. Oh, and welcome to Derry."
--------
Moira

James let his breath out slowly as two UVF gunmen sprinted across the street. The rifle he held was heavy, a .408 Cheyenne Tactical bolt action. He peered through the scope at the two men, masked and armed with AKs, as they snuck up on a machinegun nest used to protect a small Church. James David O'Reily steadied his mount, and spoke softly into the microphone attatched to his head set. "Lara, we have two men, moving from behind, shall I take care of them dear?"

A pretty sounding female voice replied. "I cna't, oh wait, there they are. Don't know I see them. Hit them, I don't wanna give away position."

James simply nodded to himself, and squeezed teh trigger. The round ripped into the air, then met skull, as the first UVF gunman, trying to sneak up on the machine gun nest, caught the large round right in the side of his temple. His head disapeared. The other man, dove, then turned. He unknowingly looked right up at James as he squeezed the trigger again after racking the bolt, sending another round out, thiw one tearing into the man's back. "Got them."

"Thanks babe," the voice came back. Two more IRA gunners darted out from a building, and grabbed the bodies, pulling them inside.

"Weapons...that isn't hard. What kind do you need?" Oberst Kagenfeld threw down his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. "You have the entire Imperial armoury to pick from. I personally think you ought to get the good citizens of Ulster involved in this. There are plenty of good loyalists around. You need to give them guns. I don't care if they join the UVF or not, but if they see one of those Republican bastards running around, they need to be able to put a slug or two in him." He reached into his haversack and pulled out another cigarette which he promptly lit. "Damn things are too tasty. Want one?" he offered the pack to the officer. "Grown in Greater Prussia's tropical colonies. Akin to the taste of a fine cigar I'd say...we can certainly get you boys crate loads of these and whatever else you need to improve your daily lives. An army marches on its stomache...and though the crown provides well...I'm sure a little extra never hurt anyone."

*Moira*

Fourty men had been sent to Belfast to give the Pope's men trouble, but ten more were sent to Moira to give the UVF a hand there...and a boat load of supplies.

"You reckon them Papists are 'round here?" Stabsfeldwebel Patty Murphy enquired.

"Is the sky blue?" the head of the Group, Hauptmann Jim O'Brien replied.

The moon glittered down on the streets, playing games with their mind as the ten men walked casually. They wore long coats, under which were concealed Mg-212 machinepistols, carried in shoulder holsters, and fitted each with a grenade launcher and with the ability to fire off two incindiary charges. They were just a little bigger than an Uzi and more squared off in order to allow for the extra equippment.

"There he is." whispered the Hauptmann. "Our contact." The contact was supposed to be leaning against the wall on the left hand side of the road reading a copy of "The Evangelist". The men immediately turned the corner to get out of the sight of the man if he had seen them at all, but they didn't turn quickly, they just turned as if they were going there to begin with. "Get a position to take him out if he makes a move." the Hauptman ordered. One soldier, equipped with a sniper rifle climbed the fire escape of the building and situated himself on the roof overlooking the man's position. When the signal was given, the Hauptmann walked around the corner and towards the gentleman.

"Do you have the time good sir?" he asked, the code phrase. It was 10pm. If the man told him the time an hour and half ahead, then it would be the contact.

Fortier looked back at Ryan. "What can you do for us? Pull this off," he said, closing the briefcase. "Kick some ass, thats all we ask. If you don't, well, you still have our backing and help for a second push. Inside the case their are a few phone numbers. Top one is my cell, call me if y ou need any back up or help out here. The other one's are companies in Imitora that might be able to help with your situation." He slid the case to Ryan.

"Its on you now, so go kick ass and take names. Ya have the backing of well over the 3 billion in Imitora." With that Fortier turned and left.

When ryan opened the case, he would see the set of numbers, the moeny, and a manilla folder. Insdie was teh note Known UVF positions and a set of satalite photos and a list of adresses that were known homes and operation centers to UVF forces.

OOC: Everyone, I've been talking to GFI on IM, and he has to head home for the Christmas Break, where he doesn't have access to a computer, so he wanted me to tell ya'll that once he gets back, this will start up again.

I think that everyone consitutes just me as far as I can tell. Haha.