NationStates Jolt Archive

"Every revolution has its counterrevolution. That is a sign the revolution is for real."
C. Wright Mills

"And so, my fellow Imitorans, I am proud today to anounce that I have officialy signed into act Executive Decision 242, also known as the Military Reduction act. To long have we as a nation gone to war over petty things, pushed around those smaller than us for less than important ideals. This bill will reduce the standing military numbers, and the budget spent on needless military goods. This is the new Imitoran revolution, a revolution of peace and understanding. We will open our doors to the world, we will no longer be the bullies, the opressors, no, we will be the peace makers, and freedom lovers..."

The TV clicked off. A quiet sigh was heard in the room, but then again, there were only two men, standing in silence, so it would be hard for it not to be. One of the men, Gen. Carlos Oliviera, took a sip of water, and sat down behind a desk. It was his office, the home away from home. Oliviera was the new Cheif of Military Operations for Imitora. Dodge had retired after the Fultonia debacle, and the General stepped up to take over. He was comanded by Fratelli, the First Speaker, to revamp the military, change it where it needed to be changed, strengthen it where it needed to be stronger. How the hell was he supposed to do that with this damned bill comming into play.

He had seen the reports. He was loosing 15 bases, 3 ports, and a handful of air stations. Further, he was facing the decomishing of near 15,000 officers, and more than half a brigade of troops and sailors. He hadn't even looked at the Air Force losses. "Ya know what the problem is?" he spoke, asking the aide next to him. "We have a damn civilian in the office. God knows the last time we had a shooter in the place of First Speaker. I mean ya, Fortier, but he was a snake eater. I mean, we need a damned officer in there, someone who knows the game."

"Well, sir, why dont you run?"

"I would never win. The people dont want a ground pounder, they want fighter pilots. Anyways, they'd see it as a power grab. I'm already commander of the armed forces, they'll wonder what else I want. Revolution of peace. Shit, its a revolution of idiocy. I wonder if she expects to be reelected on this platform?"

"Well, the polls are favoring her. The people seem to like the new war bill."

"The people don't know what they like."

"Well general. Maybe we should just do this the old fassioned Imitoran way. Take power."

Oliviera nodded. "You dont think I haven't thought of it? It wouldn't be to hard." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I need to relax. Thinking crazy things now. If I need you, I'll call you," he told the aide, waving him off. "Oh, and get me the number for LtCol. Sertson. I wanna talk about old times," he said, speaking of the current head of IMSPECOPS. Might discuss new times as well, he didnt say.

OOC: The speech was public, so other governments will know about it and Fratelli's "Peaceful Revolution," sp feel free to respond to that.

President Kowalski sat there, with his wife Lauren, watching the speech. He sat there, mouth open.

"This ain't exactly good..." Mike said, in a mix of fear and a loss for words.

"I wonder if they will keep the Special Forces..."

"Probably will, they are pretty good after all. I just wonder what will happen if some powerhungry stooge gets angry at the loss of his power. We just finished our civil war, and it would not be good if one of our biggest allies goes under and we have to help."

"No it wouldn't..." Lauren echoed, a chill in her voice.

"Carlos, you cant be serious. A staged coup? Do you know how many would die just to be reveresed?"

Gen. Oliviera and LtCol. Jamus Stertson sat in a small home office, at Oliviera's small ranch style home just outside Northampton. "It's lunacy. You think you can actually get the entire military to revolt based on a few base closings and a couple of ports being shutdown?"

"You still haven't answerd me Jamus. Would you be with me on this? If it were to happen, would you side with me regardless?"

"Christ Carlos, we've been in the shit together for years. You already know the answer to that question." Oliviera nodded in apprication. Before taking the so called carrer route, and fighting for quick promotions, he and Stertson had served together in the 22nd SOTF.

"I'm glad to know that. I really am. Now, what if I told you I could get the entire military on our side." He paused to let the words sink in, and to take a drink of watter. "In totall, 12 bases have been shut down. Thats almost a full devision and a half on Army numbers. Six air stations as well, a mix of Naval and Air Force. And I've seen the moral numbers. If we did do this, half the military is so pissed off right now that it wouldn't take all that much oration to get in."

"What about the Navy?"

"They'll be harder, as they dont loose a job when a port gets shut down, they just get relocated. Same with the ICMC. However, this is going to be a land fight. The navy will have no ability to counteract, they'll be forced to stay out at sea, unless they decide to help us. Its a no loose situation Jamus."

Stertson sighed. "Fine, what do you want with me?"

The Fabian Democratic Socialist Republic is pleased that Imitora has decided to set an example to the world by advocating peace instead of war, stability rather than chaos, life instead of death.
While your government lacks a certain left-leaning approach to matters, it is nonetheless pleasing to see a nation like yourself advocating friendship and pacifism.

Administrator William Blackwood
Head of State and Government
The Democratic Socialist Republic of Fabian Point

With the telegram sent, Blackwood sipped on his whiskey.
"It won't last." Muttered the Administrator to his close aide in his deep melodious voice. "Capitalists can never avoid war".
The reports concerning the Imitoran military had disturbed him. It seemed illogical to presume that they would stand by and be disarmed. Soldiering can be an addiction, a lure he had once known himself before his political career.
With the stroke of a pen, he signed an order, notifying his operative in Imitora to watch events closely, especially in regards to the relationship between General Oliviera and Fratelli.

The black MH-22I sped through the night sky, the twin rotors humming as the powerful tilt rotor special ops aircraft moved towards the First Speakers Mansion. On bored were 12 operatives from the 1st Special Operations Group, Phi team. The elite of the elite of the Imitoran Army.

The 12 men were checking and rechecking their rifles, XM8s with screw on silencers and other "tactical toys". Reflex sights, laser dot projectors and flahslights, grenade launchers, the works. They didn't become the best by jacking around. The continued tweaking the gear, making sure everything was set up right. NVGs, flash bangs, and other tools were all common. The side arms were also H&K, USP Tacticals in .40S&W, silenced with flash lights.

As the interior of the Osprey went from red to black, the men flipped down their NVGs, and clicked them on, switching their rifles from 'safe' to 'single shot' or 'three round burst'. They felt the buffer of the Osprey as it slowed and descened, and the cool rush of night air as the rear door opened. As the lead of the team, Lt. David Robertson, stepped forward, he remeberd Stertson's order. "Don't get caught, and don't mess up. This is for the nation."
___

Fratelli looked over the most recent comunique sent in. What little she knew of this nation had shown that they would have never come into contact with each other, peacefully at least, until now. She smiled to herself, ignoring the sound of rotors over head. It was the hourly fly by, an Imitoran made MH-60I searching for any airborne threats, running heat checks in the woods around the mansion and areas.

She began writting to the Fabian Point government, thanking them for the kind words. She was transfering it to computer to send, when she heard the rotors again. Odd, thought to herself. She had just started writting a response telegram, and there was no way 60 minutes had passed. She looked down at the computer clock, only three minutes had gone by.
___

On the roof of the building, two ISS agents, armed with the Imitoran made copy of the H&K G36, the CAR-88, looked up as the large tilt roter aircraft approached. One raisied his rifle, clicking on the rail mounted flashlight. The other gaurd did the same, raisng his rifle as well. The IMSPECOP command logo on the side confused them. Stertson was supposed to arrive bay car to meet with Fratelli. Between the roars of the rotor and the silencers, they never heard the burst of fire from the three XM8s as the Assault team exited the Osprey.

They moved towards the the roof access door, and the lead removed a pump action 12ga, blowing open the lock on the door. The assault teamed began to move down the stairways, avoiding any contact as they moved towards the main floor.

Two ISS agents were waiting at the bottom of the staircases when the rounds, 5.56mm BTHPs, ripped into their chests, dropping them. The team split into two 6 man units, one taking the second floor, the other the third. The first floor had already been cleared out, secured by another 12 man team that had been dropped off by the first helicopter into the rear yard.

On the second floor, the 6 man unit moved quickly, clearing rooms of ISS agents. The swept through it as if the opposition was non existant, the team masters of CQB and building clearing. Within moments, the second floor was devoid of ISS agents, none of them had gotten off any shots.

On the third floor, the 6 man unit moved quickly in an echlon formation towards Fratelli's study. One ISS agent, of 13, maneged to get a round off before he two was cut to shreads by the slienced rifles. Fratelli heard the shot, and hit the send button on her computer, hoping that the message she was typing got off, and ran out of the study.

As she entered the hallway, she saw her self staring down the barrels of 6 assault rifles. She tried to run, to get away, but she couldn't move, her legs frozen in place. She willed herself to run, screamed silently, triying to force her legs to move, but fear had her frozen in place. She saw the boddies of her ISS agents lying on the ground, and collapsed into place. She heard a door open on the far side of the room, and footsteps. A rescuer, hopefully. She turned, and saw LtCol. Jamus Stertson walking toward her. He wasn't dressed in his usuall dress outfit, instead he wore fatigues and carried a rifle. "Miss Fratelli. Please, don't try to resist. It will be easier for both of us."

"What the hell do you think your doing?" she shouted at Stertson.

"Making the nation safer," he said. "Get her out of here."

One of the larger of the 12 man team, now fully assemebled picked her up. They carried her outside to the Osprey, now waiting to pick up the assault teams.
___

Adminster Blackwood,

I thank you for your kind words, and I'm glad that you feel we are taking the right step. I too hope that we are taking the right movement towards peace instead of violence, open arms instead of bulleying our smaller foes. I hope that we can open cordial relations between our two nat....

The Fabian operative, alias Olivia Smith; a foreign commercial trader in bulk fruit and vegetables sat in her hotel room looking out through using her surveillance equipment.
She noted the increased concentration of aircraft and helicopters over her. This seemed odd as she had been surveying the Presidential building from the window for the past week and never before had such a build-up been sighted.
She activated her long range communication device, disguised as a female razor for shaving legs. The device put her straight through to the Administrator in Fabian City.
"Administrator, I believe it is time."

From his office in Fabian City, Blackwood's head collapsed into his palm.
"This is a sad day, continue surveillance of the Presidential building. Orders will be transfered in future to you should our operations decide to be more intensive."

"Yes, Administrator."

The rap song blared over a set of speakers, spewing somewhat racialy charged lyrics into the wieght room. The irony of the situation, the fact that all 8 men who were working out were white, didn't dawn on the men. They didn't really care. It helped them lift.

"Two, three, common man all you all you, push, five, common almost there, seven one more man, and eight!" one of the men was saying. The bar came to rest just bellow his chest on a set of stops, and the man lifting sat up, wiping away sweat from his forhead. He was shirtless, but wearing a set of desert BDU pants and black combat boots.

He stood, and looked at his spotter. "Alright man, your turn to lift." The man getting onto the bench was Gunnery Seargant Daniel "Hoot" Gibson, the second in command of the special operations unit currently occupying the entirity of the weight room on the Amanda Muirne Ormsby, a Levithan class ship. The man who had just finished lifting, and was now spotting, was Lt. Robert Fortier, the commander of the unit. He was fairly heavily tattooed, for an officer, but that never really bothered anyone.

As Hoot was descending to the bench, he looked up at the TV. "Christ bro, look at that." Fortier looked up, and saw it on the TV. It was ICN, or the Imitora Central News network, and the video was showing tanks rolling down the same highway he often found himself racing on.

"Holy shit," he swore, clinking of the rap and turning on the volume for the TV. The other 6 men stopped working, and walked over to watch. The anchorwoman spoke seriously, but slowly and clearly.

"Further, elements of the 3rd and 5th Armor out of South Crove have begun to push northward as well, presumably meeting up with the fully assembled 7th Combat Brigade, already securing several northern Imitoran cities. Several platoons from the 35th Riot Control MP have already secured positions in Northampton, and elements of the 2nd Armor from the 7th CB have moved into reinforcing positions. Northampton Int'l. has been officially closed by the IAF, as well as Delton Int'l. in the south. Military police units have already posted curfew notices and area restrictions, leading many to believe that the government is locking down major cities in preperation for defense against a full invasion. First Speaker Fratelli has yet to make herself available for comment, but Gen. Carlos Oliveira, Cheif of Staff for the Imitoran Military, as commented saying that 'everything is under control, and not to worry'. More news after these brief messages." The TV cut away to a commercial, which was common. They wanted to keep viewers for ratings.

Fortier had a concerned look on his face, but was interupted when a voice behind spoke. "You see that Rob?" It was the voice of Lt. Alan Kaine Waters, the commander of the WRITE Team 7, one of the elite Naval Units of the Imitoran Special Operations Community.

"Yeah. Interestng we didn't get notice," he commented. He looked at his 7 men under his command, all no longer interested in their workouts. "Get showered up and ready guys, I want you in room 456 by 0915. Alan, ya wanna meet us there with your boys?"

"Sure man, we'll be there ready to roll."

Fortier just nodded. The news came back on, with pictures of tanks and APCs rolling under the cover of attack helicopters down the streets of Northampton and other major cities in Imitora.

Mike was watching the screen as the tanks rolled over one man who was apparently against this coup. Lauren went in to meet him.

"Should we send int troops?" Mike asjed her.

"They might resent us if we do...they might resent us if we don't."

"We have a war brewing with Farmina, we are recovering from a Civil War not too dissimilar from this one, and our economy is in shambles until we rebuild...and that will take three more years!"

"I'll call my sister and find out." was the reply from Lauren.

"Well, don't tell her we're in bad shape. Just ask her if she needs and Special Operators helping her. After all, the Blood Rangers are inactive save for a platoon, so that's nearly an entire batallion of a thousand."

"Ok......" Lauren then moved to the phone and dialed, "Hey sis....I'm doing fine, and as for yourself? ...Well yeah, the rebellion and everything. That's why I'm calling, Mike wants to know if y'all need some help, like with our Blood Rangers. We have just under a thousand ready....Ok, call me back when you get an answer."

Lauren then walked back to Mike, sat in his lap, and whispered something to him. He looked shocked, and went to call his brothers and a few friends like Colonel Karter to tell them...he would have to get some cigars and tell his adopted children. The werewolves had grown to where the youngest was ten, and the oldest was a twenty-year-old Captain who had just returned from the Iwo Jima Rebellion as it was becoming known. Lauren hadn't even told her family she was pregnant, but she would be sure to get them here to tell them in person.

OOC: This post is gonna suck, but I have a better one comming tommorow

IC:

Holly placed the phone back down on the reciever. Of all the times Lauren wanted to help, she picked now. She sighed, and went back to looking at the data intercepts. The ICIA and INSA had been pretty much cut off from the loop after the initial movements made by Oliveira. The almost omniprescent intelligence agencies had nothing. She began going back to analyzing what she had, when she heard a nock on the door. "Come in," she said, not looking up.

The click of an assault rifle's safty being flipped from Safe to Semi caused her to look up. She was staring down the barrel of a CAR-84, a small H&K style carbine used by many of the blacker units in the IMSOCOM. She stared into the eyes of the operator holding it, and then at the man next to him. "Miss Lutz, could you please come with us?" Oliveira asked.

She closed the book she had open, full of comunique intercepts, and walked over to them, hands out. She knew when and when not to fight, and this was the when not to time. She wouldn't get a chance to call back Lauren.

Lauren paced the room much as Mike would have if he was awake. The eldest son, 20 year old Kaylan who had just come back from the war, approached her.

"Lauren. What happened." He asked, a new scar showing on his chest, apparently from a battle.

"My sister said she would call right back, and its been over eighteen hours." Lauren explained.

"Ah...I've been monitoring this as well, and I know thine enemy. I've worked a few times with Imotorian operators and regular army. If this is the military coup that I think it is, she's been kidnapped as a way to keep us out of the war." Kaylan suggested.

"They would do that." Mike said, appearing out of nowhere, or at least it appeared that way to Lauren. Mike noticed the new scar and noted that it was consistent with a knife...more correctly a bayonet...wound and that whoever stiched him up was more concerned with saving his life than his looks. Kaylan noticed what Mike was examing and motioned he'd talk later. Mike continued, "I'll send in my best men right now. They're all veterans and know their way around invisibility. If everything goes right, they'll look like CM tourists caught at a bad time, hanging around a bar. Now you need to get some sleep honey, and let me do the worrying." With this, Lauren's shoulders eased up with less tension and she returned to bed. Mike and Kaylan went into the living room where they started to swap stories for the rest of the night.

Mike started off, "Well, I was in mainland China...and this pillbox had my entire company pinned down, and all I had left was three bullets, a grenade, and a fighting knife."
Kaylan interrupted, "I've heard this one before. This was your third MOH action. You blew up the machinegun by lodgine the grenade on the gun and propping it up with two bullets, detonating it by the third. You then crawled back to your trench only to find nothing but Chinese. You killed ten with your knife, mostly in their sleep, then got hold of an SKS and captured the rest including a General."

Mike stood indignant, "How dare you tell my story better than I can! All right, tell me how you got that bayonet wound."

"Ok, so we're clearing an enemy HQ, and there's a rebel guard in the doorway/ He has an AK74 with Bayonet. I throw a frag, it blows, and I rush in. He's dead from the nade, but he's supported by the door. He fell and pierced my chest. It didn't nick anything important, so I sewed it up myself. Didn't tell doc because it'd be my third Purple Heart and I'd be taken from my unit."

"Mine's better..." Mike replied.

"But my scar's bigger..." Kaylan joked around...