In the Shadows (AMW only)
Bangkok
This would have been the fourth airline journey Lao and Ming had experienced in a week. It was becoming rather tiring, and both of them felt somewhat frustrated and cramped, especially in economy class.
The days newspapers headlines were somewhat cliched, but of great importance. In front of them lay newspapers from around the world. One article which drew their attention was the bold font "Nazi links implicated in Liu assasination attempt". It gave them comfort to know that the Russian police were still treating it like a hate crime commited by "a lone and deranged Nazi". Another other headline that caught their eye was the rather interesting transcription of the Spyran delegations's speeches.
During the brief stopover in Tokyo, Ming had created fake Thai birth certificates. While they would use their Taiwanese names in customs, the Thai birth certificates were for another purpose - crossing the border. Ming viewed the economy class as "training" for disguising themselves as refugees fleeing Thailand since the fall of the Neo-Sunnists. With them they had worn-out clothing and the like with a hint of Chinese ancestry. If the Sinoese were as nationalist as they seemed to be, surely they would grant passage to some Thai Chinese.
Streams of (mostly Chinese) refugees have been arriving steadily since Marimaia crumbled like dried turd. Due to the lack of administrative power, men, women and children came into the refugee camps without any serious documentation. Now that the Chinese Civil War is in full swing, it is unlikely that there will be any more personnel being sent here to ease the situation.
At the gate of the border, two men in rags waited in line. They filed slowly, until reaching the small wooden desk, where a private works at, he repeated the first sentence in Thai, then in three different Chinese dialects. Beside him stood a staunched border guardsman cradling a Type 85 SMG.
"Name?" The linguist asked.
The two of them presented their birth certificates at the desk and replied in Chinese.
"My name is Jay Zhou and this is my neighbour Andy Sun. Second-generation Thai Chinese."
The private passed the documents to his compatriot for photocopying, before scribbling down a few words and stamping some forms. He had done this many times before, so many times that he had lost track of what the first person he had processed looks like. What's there to worry about? Gen. Liu is always kind to his compatriots.
"Move along." The guard with a Type 85 SMG pointed to the directions of army tents.
"Next!" The private shouted, repeating the same word in another dialect, followed by Thai.
Once in Sino, the two of them began a concerted intelligience effort to track down Liu. Newspapers, radio, anything.
(OOC: Don't feel like typing a long post....argh...so tired...)
Due to the assassination attempt by Xiannese agents, security has been increased around Gen. Liu. Previously, announcements of rallies and his major visits were made public days before. In a more recent nationalist rally, the number of LJJ and Stapapol security protecting such an event has doubled.
The Chinese are particular concerned about a potential NBC strike made by the redneck rebel commanders.
The large numbers of nationalist rallies provided the perfect opportunity for knocking off the bastard. Been unable to obtain explosives for any bombs aside from crude fertiliser bombs the size of small trucks, Lao decides that he should sniper Liu from a distance.
In the refugee camp tents, Lao began to put his sniper rifle back into working order.
"Hey! What the f*ck is that!" A guard on a routine search of the tents for drugs sudden came across a man sitting on the floor polishing what appears to be a Type 79 (SVD).
Two other guards heard the exclamation and dashed across to the commotion.
(Well, I suppose this ends it.)
Caught completely by surprise, and not having expected the soldiers to conduct random tent inspections, Lao panics, grabbing the rifle and swings it at the soldier with all his strength. Although he was not much of a fighter, perhaps he could hold out until his partner returned.
From a good distance away, Ming returns from a toilet break, sees the commotion and begins to worry. Another two guards begin running towards the tent.
He stood there frozen - Ming had the recording of the Moscow bombing and other important documents they needed. He could simply walk out of the camp right now and still pocket the cash. But Lao had been a fellow soldier with him for many years. He could try to rescue him, but he would almost certainly die.
"Ah f*ck!" The whacking of Chinese redwood on the butt of a Type 79 squarely across Stapapol Private First Class Yao Shun's left ear made him scream in pain, angered like the warrior that he was trained to be, Yao prodded the bayonet into the theif's left leg. His comrades rushed in, one with an angry German shepherd on a leash, another with a pointing Type 85 PDW and a radio.
"Medic needed for tent 236! Bayonet injury to the leg of one refugee, over." A soldier called on his radio after seeing the man with the sniper rifle immoblized by pain.
Yao stepped back, after pulling out the blade, which gave the man even greater pain, keeping the rifle pointing at his chest.
"Glad I missed your balls, huh?"
For days a stocktake in the camp's armory have revealed one spare sniper rifle and two grenades to be missing. This unfortunate theft was kept secret amongst the campers, but the guards were on the look out for suspicious activity. It looks like they've been found.
Ming begins a brisk walk back towards the border.