NationStates Jolt Archive

Cairo, North African Province(formerly The Brotherhood of Nod)

Rain fell on the city. People moved about despite it's annoyance, as falling water was no reason to stop what they were doing, even if it wasn't a daily event in Cairo. The flash across the sky, followed by a deep rumble made a few look up and move faster though. Through the crowds, a man moved. He would normally stand out, obviously being foriegn by his looks and his choice of clothing. No one bothered him though. This was his time. No one looked at him. No one questioned him. He could move freely as no one looked at each other in weather like this. They lowered their heads and plowed ahead like bulls.

That was about how he thought of these people. These Arabs. These Muslims. And here he was, a Crimm... like most Crimm, he had no use for God. He dressed in a long coat that was more at home in the 19th century, tattered khaki pants and beat up combat boots. The oddness of his clothing matched the oddness of his eyes. He had seen much and done much. And very little of it he was proud of. Much of it haunted him in his sleep and that showed on his face.

And now war loomed on the horizon in these lands. Then again, didn't it always? In any case, he managed to get on the roof of a building unnoticed and looked over the people he would soon visit death and pain upon. Even now, his plan went into action. Over loudspeakers, his voice spoke, in nearly perfect Arabic "For too long, this part of the world has dealt with terrorists from it's own ranks. Muslims killing Muslims for not being Muslim enough. Muslims killing Christians and Jews for not being Muslim at all. Terrorists killing children and women and children and women becoming terrorists to kill others. It is time for that to be put into the past. It is time for a new era to begin." There was a pause and the crowds voiced approval. The fools thought it was a peacemaker making a speech. Others shook their heads and went on with their day. Peace or war, they had work to do. His voice spoke again. "I will bring about this new era, starting right here in Cairo. I will do this by bringing down the fist of Death on this city, along with Death's dear, twisted sister Agony to make each and every one of you into examples!" The response this time was anything but supportive. Now even the ones shaking their heads were paying attention, before hurridly closing up their shops.

It wasn't fast enough... The man donned and cleared his mask, so that he could stay and watch the pain he was to inflict. The sound of hissing reached his ears. It sounded like a thousand Cobras and had many people thinking that was exactly what was happening. Clouds of barely visable gas rolled down the streets. Pestacides and chemicals filled people's lungs. Made them cough, hack and puke up their innards. And above it all, his voice spoke again. "Cursed be the deathbringer, for he can be called a child of demons!"

In the panic, he escaped through back alleys and into a modern part of the city. He was beyond the effects of the gas and threw the mask away. His clothing carried a faint oder of the gas, but so did the air. That would be no problem. He slipped into the crowds and went back to his room over a small fish monger's shop.

"What is going on, do you know Mister Trill?" The owner asked in Arabic.

He answered after a moment in a halting, foriegn sounding version of Arabic, rather than the smooth local dialect he had used on the tape. "I... think it was terrorists. The air was turned foul." He shrugged and the owner nodded.

"Shame there are so many violent people in this world. Someone should line them up and shoot them all." He said and went back to his work, not realizing that he had just uttered a paradox. One that was going to be fulfilled by 'Maindrian Trill'. He chuckled to himself as he walked up the stairs. It was a good line to use, but one he didn't dare use. The owner would remember his own words if he heard them again and Trill was the only one he spoke them too.

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'Maindrian Trill'

It was two weeks later that the gas was inert enough to allow people to go and return to their homes. It was not a quiet two weeks though. Napalm and claymores were going off all over the city every day. Maindrian shook his head as he looked at his bloody arm. One of his own mines had gone off while he was nearby and put a hot ball bearing in his arm. He spoke into a tape recorder. "You are all mere gardners in the yard of life, while I... I walk a different road. A road of horror. A narrow road with no turns that only the bravest of men would dare travel." He paused long enough to make people think that it was over, then continued. Effect of his words was as important as the mines. "Pain. Pain is a bridge on that road carrying the traveler over dark waters of deceit and scorn. Debt. A debt incurred on this road is a lifelong bond. A hunger to be satiated. It is a debt of blood and it requires sacrifice. Your sacrifice. Walk with me along this road. Walk with me into hellfire!"

He then slipped into the darkness and opened a box on a main junction pole and placed teh tape inside. He set it to play the tape at ten in the morning as loud as it could. Then he was gone, moments before the next patrol turned the corner. It played the next morning, right on time. More explosions roaced the morning air as the message caused a panic. He had planted fresh mines in the alleyways after putting the tape in place. Some were claymores, others were smoke and others were gas. Trill ate his meal with the owner of the fish shop and looked at the man. "This... is not good?" The owner shook his head and got up to tend to a customer.

Soldiers marched down the street, one of them stopping and peering at Trill. He spoke in Crimm. "Hey, you. What are you doing in this shithole?"

Trill looked at the owner, who couldn't understand the soldier, then back and spoke in the same language. It was no secret he was from Europe, after all. "I like the food, Corporal. Plus, I think I'd rather stay inside than find someplace else to sit, with all the trouble happening." The soldier grunted and moved on. Trill switched back to his halting, foriegn sounding Arabic and related what he had said. The man nodded and looked relieved that the soldier wasn't wondering if the terrorist lived in his building. Trill laughed. "We would notice, yes?" The old man nodded, not having any clue how wrong he was.

Two days later, another message echoed down the roads, over the sounds of people and cars. Trill listened from his window, proud of the way he could disguise himself so easily, just by using two versions of Arabic. "You people have been killing yourselves for no reason other than you don't like each other for thousands of years. I have taken it upon myself to right this agregious wrong. Some of you may call me mad, twisted, tortured, an evil genius, perhaps insane... but who are you people to judge me? You people are all savages and when the light of my brilliance shines down upon you, you all scatter like the cockroaches that you are. Listen to me. I will do what I must to show you the error of your ways. A wise man once said, 'You remember more the things you survive more than the things you enjoy.' What I have planned for you people is something that you will never, ever forget. Welcome to my own personal house of fun. May your God have pity on you all."

And nothing happened. For a whole month, nothing happened. Oh, a couple street gangs shot at the marines, but no more claymores went off, except for the odd one that were still in place from the last set of terrorizing. Then people started to get sick and plants started to die. It was a few more days before people realized what it was... the water supply had been tainted. Thousands were getting ill, then millions. The supply of bottled and distilled water ran out and the military shipped more in. They purged the water system and pumped in new water from the desalination plants. It had no effect. People started to die soon after and the city was placed under a quarentine.

Mandrian Trill was allready out of the city, though. The plague that swept through the city was a slow and painful killer. It damaged the intestines as well as the liver and kidneys... there weren't enough surgeons to fix it all. He didn't know what had happened to the old man who ran the fish shop. He had left a message with the marines to search the old man's storeroom. Tape recorders, tapes, mines, tanks of nerve gas and vials of poison were there. The Marines would catch him, he was sure. For now, he got on an elevator and rode it up to the mid floors of the Imperial Tower.

He got off and walked into the High Inquisitor's waiting area, nodded to the secretary and walked into the office and stated who he was, even though they both knew each other well. He was never one to skip a regulation while amongst the ranks of the Inquisition. "Inquisitor Elite Ronin reporting." Ronin. A masterless warrior, travelling the lands. That summed him up well... when he was on assignment, he answered to no man or woman and most often worked alone.

The High Inquisitor, a woman only known as Epsilon, smiled smally at him. She waited while Ronin continued to speak. "Mission accomplished. Ciaro will be much easier to control now, along with outlying provinces."

She nodded again. "Good. I heard your speeches... you have quite the vocabulary, Ronin. You use it like a sniper uses his rifle. You are to take three weeks rest and then you will recieve new orders. Dismissed."

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Inquisitor Elite Ronin
Gray Ops Agent

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Epsilon
High Inquisitor of the Crimmond Imperial Inquisition
Former Black Staff Agent

Ronin stepped off a transport and onto the docks of Avalon, capital of teh Gholgothian Province. He looked around at the people milling about. He stepped through the crowd and tried to spot his contact. He found it when a blade pressed against his back. "Hello, Marvin." a silky voice said, as they made their way to an alleyway. Here he was Marvin Olgo. "You said you heard something I might like to know about?"

"You mean the whispers?"

The blade moved off. "What whispers?" She stepped slightly to the side. Too far... he caught sight of her arm and a second later she was against the wall with the blade against her back.

"The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot. Just to the left of the spine.... Fourth lumbar down."

She smirked at him. "Quoting movies now, Olgo? Silly boy... why don't you tell me what you came here to tell me?"

He removed the blade and handed it to her, leaning against the far wall. "You need to learn something and so does your boy on the fourth floor of that hotel a block away. I'm a lot scarier than you are. If I wasn't on vacation, I'd kill you both and right it off as collateral damage. I'm here to tell you to stay out of my way. Don't contact me, don't try to follow me, follow my contacts or trace my phone calls. If you do, I will find out and I will kill you."

"You're bluffing. You couldn't kill an innocent woman." she said, as if she was an innocent woman.

"Really? Ask the people in Cairo." She blinked and then her eyes widened, before he knocked her out and walked out of the alley, looking up at the fourth floor window where the sniper was watching from. That was the first time he had ever told anyone about his operations. It was also the first time he had cut a contact loose without cutting their throats.

He walked the streets of the fortress city and then turned into The Garden. It was aptly named, as flowers of all types and plants of all sizes grew in the fertile soil. There was even a section devoted to weeds. He hmmed and bent down to pick one of the flowers.

Kill that plant and you'll lose your fingers. A voice growled from somewhere behind him. He whipped around, falling into a stance meant to intimidate. He didn't know how to pronounce the form of martial art he was pretending to know, but looking as if you know something can be almost as valuable as actually knowing it.

He stared at the... 'man' before him and hmmphed. After a second, he stood up and eyed him carefully. "Hello, Gar."

The Warlord tilted his head, battered helmet making it seem almost comical. Almost. "Warlord Gar to you, citizen." Even with his voice normal, it seemed able to command legions. "Do not disturb my garden or you will be ejected. It is for eyes and noses only, not for hands."

"First off, Gar... I'm not a citizen. Secondly, you aren't in my chain of command." He spoke softly, so that no one would be able to hear him but Gar, then stared the giant warrior down for several seconds. He noticed there was a crowd watching, as it wasn't every day that the undisputed ruler of the Gholgothian Province didn't scare someone.

"Inquisition." Gar hissed and stalked away, voice raising as he did so. "You have been warned. Do not trifle with me... not even the High Commander himself is permitted to disturb my garden."

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Marvin Olgo

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Gar the Executioner (http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/executioner.JPG)
Defender and Hunter of the Blessed Shores
Warlord of Avalon

Olgo looked over the wilderness around Avalon. It was cut back by a one and a half mies around the city, to provide decent killing zones should some force try to attack from the forests. The forests themselves were a wall, almost jumgle like despite the temperate enviroment. He wondered how much Gar had to do with that...

A humming noise caught his attention and he looked to the table nearby. A slim black phone that only the Inquisition knew teh number of was vibrating... "Dammit." He picked it up and spoke in perfect Russian. "The word?"

A voice came back in Russian. "All is clear in the North."

Olgo frowned. "Very well." The odd code meant that there was trouble. Not in the North, but in the West. He hung up and packed his bag. West Crimmond... Trouble in what was once Lybia, or in the former Czech Republic, depending on what continent you looked at.

Olgo, now thinking of himself as Ronin again, checked out of the motel and headed for the docks. As he stepped to the railing of the ship he was boarding, he paused and looked to the roof of an old warehouse and stared directly into the sights of one of the snipers that had been tailing him since he had arrived. He mouthed several words, certain that the sniper would be able to read his lips. I will be back for you.