NationStates Jolt Archive

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(Tyrellia) - Civil protests over the length of the ongoing Populist government continue today in the Capital. The government of Premier Meia Winter has amazingly lasted the last 35 years without popular elections taking place.

The Populist majority in the National Assembly voted to make the legislative body "inactive pending the calling of a session by the Premier", even though there had been barely any actions taken by the assembly in the past twenty years. However, the removal of the legislative body caused an uproar among various left-wing groups, including the radical but growing Communist/Socialist Arsorra-Star party, which while having no government representation has become a minor voice in speaking out on Casaran Politics and in the interim has begun taking over a considerable portion of county positions, particularly away from the Government center of Tyrellia in the sparsely populated County Arnia and County Silanta.

"This is just another sign of the government's intent of creating a permenant autocracy." Party leader Albert Song said in a press release today. "This kind of behavior would not be tolerated anywhere else in the world, in any other republic, yet it goes on day after day in Casari."

The government's commentary on the subject was flat. "We have consistently acted in the best interest of the nation and it's citizens, and we continue to do so by our recent actions by reducing overhead costs and eliminating parts of the government that are not in use. We remind the unfortunately uninformed members of the Arsorra-Star organization that the Leader of the Opposition, Labor Party MP Ari Elisar, may also call a legislaive session should he feel the need arises to discuss pressing issues and laws. The inactivity of the National Labor Party on this front indicates their agreement."

Inquiries to the Labor Party and their head, Ari Elisar, went unanswered other than a form reply stating for their support for the current administration. Previously, a strong opposition to the government provided the resistance to any governmental changes necessary, but the lack of any from the Labor party has given the Populists more or less free reign with the government of Casari.

The current crisis has grown with a number of laws and decisions passed by the National Assembly in the past thirty-five years, most considered to be altering and changing one of the core laws about the government. Not protected by any sort of written constitution, general unspoken agreements among MPs have left these stable to keep the government operating smoothly. The changes, however, have caused lingering resentment which is growing to a boiling point.

The danger point is expected to come in two months, when the still-active County elections will take place. Changes are expected, particularly in County Arnia, where the traditional party candidates is trailing the Ar-Star candidate Louis Dawson by significant margins.

Several protests which took place or expanded outside areas designated by officially approved protest permits were forced to be broken up by Casaran Police Forces. Several hospitals are reporting small numbers of minor injuries from police activities. Police reports indicate no officers were injured in the action, and several protestors were arrested for minor property charges.

The Emperor sat watching a single bead of water trickle down the side of his glass, reaching the bottom and creating a small puddle on his desk. Taking a tissue, he wiped it off, then picked up the glass, drying the underside of that and the now-moist desk where it had sat.

If it were not for the fact that he rarely showed any physical emotion when feeling nervous, his brow would have needed wiping dry also. Casari, a friend of Bostopia, was experiencing some troubles with left-wing activists, who were seemingly unawares of the benefits of stopping what would be known as Parliamentary-activities in this land.

Of course, when left-wingers decide to get loud over something, the germs in their breath often find their way to other groups across the world to latch onto. Hence why the Emperor was taking a security briefing from General Frank Lander, the head of the Bostopian intelligence services.

"While the chances of anything spreading our way are remote, there's always a chance that civil unrest could be sparked in some of the more historically-left areas."

"Port Flamerty?" Replied the Emperor

"Most likely. But we haven't heard any real threats, just the usual one-man-on-his-computer sort of rumblings."

"That's still a threat."

"Well, sire, we class a real threat as one that's found the potential to have a cat in hell's chance of succeeding."

"And one-man-on-his-computer is what, then?"

"An icecube has a better chance of surviving in hell, sort of level, sire."

"That's still a chance."

"Picking up every single one wouldn't be good for us sire. They'd know we were well and truly onto them."

"Ok, I see your point. You wait for hard evidence."

"Yessir."

"Good. I want any entries to Bostopia from Casari monitored, especially if they go toward Port Flamerty."

Port Flamerty was the biggest coastal city in Bostopia, and therefore thrived with many factories and docks where Union activity would have skyrocketed had the Government not curtailed it a long time back. The threat from these sort of areas stayed though, it was ingrained in the blood of the children there to feel certain ways.

As the General said his goodbyes, the Emperor picked up the phone sat on his desk to the left of him, and dialed a number. Dr.Granforth, his person with contacts abroad, picked up after a couple of rings.

"Emperor, how good to hear from you."

"Same to you, Doctor. I need you to get in touch with the Casaran Government regarding co-operation on what could become joint troubles for the both of us."

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Jérôme Labrie: We've got news from Casari. The present government, at power for the last 35 years, has finally become contested by the population. Réjean Bouchard is there to clarify the situation. Hi Réjean.

Réjean Bouchard: Hi Jérôme. Yeah, there have been uprisings in Casari lately, with policement crushing the population. Let me explain what happened: When the populists took the power 35 years ago, they decided to pass laws without the parliament. That angried the opposition, such that it decided to not sit in the parliament. The Labors, principal opposition party in Casari, even sent a note to CasariTV, their national TV network, stating that they support the present effectively-dictatorial government. The Casaran left was left unhappy and protested everywhere, with the biggest protest being in Eastern Casari, especially in Princeton and Richmond. I've interviewed a couple of people, but all of this will be shown on tonight's Télénouvelles.

Jérôme Labrie: Alright. Thank you Réjean. Now, we've just received an official statement from the President's Office. Let me read it:

"The Government of Oliverry has been a strong proponent of democracy all around the world. As a government of the people for the people, we would rather deal with another democratic government than a dictatorship, even if it's a de facto dictatorship.

As a democratic government, it's our role to protect any people's right to democracy. If it means that we should condemn another nation's government to do so, we will, depending if said government can threaten us, of course. This is leading me to the main point of this statement. I guess everyone has heard of what is happening in Casari right now, where the government has been ruling without any election for over 35 years. 35 years is a long time without an election for a country and I fear for the Casarans.

But first, I will not criticize the government. In fact, the opposition will be criticized first. Especially the Labor Party. You were created for a noble cause: represent the workers, the lower class, the people, oftenly forgotten by the elitic governments. You are currently failing these objectives by supporting the current government. This government is not democratic, and do not come and tell me that people do not want elections, because I know they want.

Second, I salute the courage of those currently protesting all around Casari for a free and elected government. May your efforts lead to a fully representative and democratic government in your country.

Third, I will not condemn the present populist government. I will only criticize the lack of democracy in the country, as currently, the official, and legal, nonetheless, opposition to the present government has decided not to act against your power like any sane opposition would do.

To conclude, let me say that, despite my political allegence, I'd have made the same comment even if a leftist government would breach the people's rights to a democratic and free government.

Signé,
Le Très Honorable Président d'Oliverrie et protecteur-élu de la Limbrogidlia, Bertrand Dionne"

Jérôme Labrie: Let me be the first to say that this letter will surely have a repercussion all around the world and that this is another major step to the leaving of an isolationist phase l'Oliverrie has been into since 2031.

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(Princeton, County Arnia, Casari) - Protests continue to escalate today in Casari's East Coast region as student and protesters representing the Arsorra-Star Organization protested in front of National Police stations in Princeton.

The largest protest took place in front of the Fifth Precinct and started on a peaceful note, but quickly dissolved into violence, as protesters began peeling paving stones from the surface of the road and using them as projectile weapons, breaking several windows and striking at least one policeman, who was hospitalized for a concussion.

The police responded in force, clearing the crowd from the immediate vicinity of the station. The crowd reformed a few blocks away, committing property damage. The police, reinforced by that time by police from other precincts around the city, moved on the rioters again, using CS gas to disperse the crowd.

The Anari Division of the National Police have confirmed 106 arrests in relation to the riot, on charges including Damage of Public Property (List G), Attacking a Uniformed Police Officer (List E).

Leaders of the Arsorra-Star Organization made statements supporting the rioters, but attempting to distance themselves from the violence. "We believe this is just yet another sign of the average Casaran's dislike of their rights being trampled on on a near daily basis. Even though we regret these occurrences, they will continue until we have some sort of change."

The government response to the riots was short.

"The organizations that organize these acts, such as the Arsorra-Star and others, merely seek to undermine the legitimate government of Casari, which operates within all laws passed by the National Assembly. We again remind everyone that if they wish to complain, acts of violence against government and Civil Protection workers is not the way to effect change."

---

A series of quiet communications had arrived at the Premier's office.

"I'd be concerned if I were them as well." Winter mumbled at her desk.

"What should we say in return?" The Foreign minister asked, sitting on the other side of the desk.

"We need to keep this quiet... do we have someone that can make the drop for us?"

The minister nodded. "We have a connection waiting for the message now."

"Thank them for their concern, of course, and for the offer of help... and say that if necessary, we would happy welcome some kind of Bostopian assistance."

"Nothing about taking it now?"

"... no, not yet. We have to make sure we play all our cards first."

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Simon Hunter: "Thanks David, David Johnstone there in CCL reporting on the latest developments in Liverpool England regarding the situation in West Ariddia.

"Now, to a similar story, this time in Casari. The land of the former World Cup champions has been ruled by the same party for 35 years. And now, there's an apparent communist revolution. Civil unrest has been reported across the country, and for more information our reporter on the ground, Jane Thomas, joins us from the Casaran capital, Tyrellia. Jane, what can you tell us?"

JT: "Yes, Simon. Earlier today I was in Princeton, where the latest outbreak of violence took place. Here are some of the dramatic pictures from earlier.

"The police crackdown has irked many local people. People we spoke to did not want to be seen or heard on camera, but there was a general feeling that this had gone on too long and that the government, in their view, was illegitimate. Others have however pointed out that the parliamentary opposition has not spoken out.

"Joining us on the line from Città del Giaccio is Progressive Communist MP Lin Da-ren. Thanks for coming on the programme, sir."

LDr: "It's good to be here. We need to speak out against this government in Casari as well as our own one in CCL for not doing anything."

JT: "Mr. Lin, on Radio One you recently criticised Prime Minister Harley and his government for not helping to, quote, get West Ariddia back on its feet. Do you think the government is similarly in the wrong with its silence over Casari?"

LDr: "It is absolutely hypocritical that while the Honourable Prime Minister would intervene in the West Ariddian situation and condemn Ea L'lew for trying to get some semblance of authority back into West Ariddia, calling for elections this year instead of the planned five, and yet sit back here and let this regime that has ruled for 35 years to continue ruling without making a single noise.

"I shall be bringing this situation, as well as the Foreign First Secretary's recent remarks, to the attention of Parliament."

SH: "Mr. Lin, it's Simon Hunter, back in the studio. You've recently controversially given backing to Ms. L'lew. Any similar support for the Arsorra-Star Organisation?"

LDr: "Keep up what you're doing, it isn't going unnoticed in the world, your government is clearly illegitimate and you have the support of the National Leftist Federation in Liverpool England."

SH: "Mr. Lin, thank you. Lin Da-ren, Progressive Communist MP for Città del Giaccio, ending that live report by Jane Thomas."

————————————————————————————
NLF distances itself from Casaran violence
The National Leftist Federation has today had to distance itself from civil violence in Casari after an MP from a party part of the federation claimed to support the popular uprising in the name of the NLF.

In a short statement the the press, the NLF claimed to "categorically wish to distance our federation from recent comments made by an MP from within the federation on the subject of Casari. While we find the situation distressing, we do not feel it was appropriate for the MP to speak in the name of our grouping. We also wish the Casaran people luck in resolving the situation peacefully."

The Emperor was again sat in his private office, the sunlight streaming in between the high rises of Fort Boston to blaze on his back. Flicking a button on his desk, the security panelling on the windows came down, blocking out the sunlight. At the same time, the lightstat in the room detected the light levels in the room going down and adjusted the electrical lighting as necessary.

The room was shady and well-lit when Dr.Granforth walked in, fresh from a phone call from the Casarans.

"What news do you bring old friend?"

"Well, sire, the Casarans thank us for our offer of assistance but they won't be taking any physical support right now."

The Emperor swivelled in his chair to look out of the window while he thought. However, the view was blocked by the security panelling and he swivelled back to face his advisor.

"I suppose that's fair enough. They'll handle the situation themselves til they need help. Those Casarans are a proud nation, they don't want to show themselves as needing support for what's still a minor problem."

"Understandably. Have you heard of anything regarding threats in Port Flamerty?"

"A few groups are starting to call meetings at 'convenient' times for them. We'll get the evidence required then send in the current batch of kids about to finish national service to break up the party, one way or another."

"Most of them are barely 17 though sire! Asking them to shoot on their fellow Bostopian now may prove unwise."

"They're very green, Doctor, they need the experience. Now, you go wait for a phone call off the Casarans, and keep an eye on any other nations who may get themselves involved, subversively or not."

"Yes sire. Speak to you soon."

President Kairis looked quietly at the report on Casari. It contained all available information on the actual situation, which was essentially only what was publicly known given the lack of intelligence resources active in Casari, as well as information on the responses of Bostopia, Liverpool England and Oliverry. The Bostopian response was actually much more objectionable than anything that had yet happened in Casari itself. It was, she admitted to herself, not a nation she knew much of anything about, even thought it was quite large and active in world affairs. At present, there was no Confederal ambassador to Casari and no Casaran ambassador in the Confederated Peoples. There was no existing pattern of people-to-people contacts, no cultural exchange, no trade, nothing. None of this was especially intentional. Despite a policy of near total inclusiveness as far as mere normalized diplomatic relations were concerned, the sheer number of countries in the world today made it impossible to establish relations with everyone. Nonetheless, that oversight meant the complete absence of any back channels to Casaran authorities of the sort that she might normally use to get a feel for the situation, initiate preliminary discussions, make discrete suggestions and apply low levels of pressure. The only other alternative was to issue some sort of official pronouncement and, while she found the situation distressing and the Casaran government’s actions inappropriate, the problem was neither severe enough nor clear-cut enough to justify such a public commitment on the international stage. After all, in a world plagued with genocide, slavery, war and other grave evils, it would neither be responsible or rational to shift resources and expend diplomatic capital on a situation such as this.

There was, of course, no possibility of moving now to establish some sort of relationship with the Casarans which would give her more options in future controversies. An active move to establish a relationship now would seem like an endorsement of Premier Winter’s policy. Kairis was hardly willing to do that. Therefore, she simply made a note to make diplomatic overtures to Casari after the current controversy had faded from the world stage. In the meantime, the situation would simply affect Casari’s place in some of the official classifications of various foreign powers kept by the Confederal Department of Foreign Affairs, classifications that hardly qualified as strong statements and which rarely attracted much international or even domestic attention. It might do to make some sort of overture to Oliverry immediately, although one not linked in any evident way to the Casaran incident.

Having settled the matter, Kairis turned to the next document on her desk, something to do with Ariddian reunification. She had just started to read it when her intercom beeped and she pressed the speaker button, “Madam President, you told me to remind you ten minutes before your meeting with the new Democratic Leader in the Chamber, Deputy Mably, was scheduled.”

“Yes, thank you, Daireen. Just send him in when he arrives. Have the Director of Legislative Affairs join us as well,” Kairis said.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Daireen and Kairis switched off the intercom. She put away her papers on foreign policy. She then turned to the small laptop computer she had open on her desk and called up the available files on Lambert Mably. She only needed to skim them briefly and check several specific points. She had read them last night. When she was done, she closed the laptop, unhooked it and tucked it away. She thought it ruined the mood at formal meetings. By the time her visitor was shone in, her concerns about the situation in Casari had faded entirely to be dealt with, if ever, at a later time.

Inside of a darkened room at the back of a factory, a meeting of the banned Communist Party of Bostopia (C.P.B.) is taking place. The party leader, Olaf Heldgard is speaking. Olaf Heldgate had at one point been leader of Bostopia before narrowly escaping death in a car bomb planted by monarchists who supported the current emperor.

"...the Casaran revolutionaries are rising, comrades! We must support them in the workers struggle to take their democratic rights and make a stand against the dictatorial Government!"

Inside of the factory grounds, a delivery lorry was having it's goods unloaded. However, in a hidden section of the semi-articulated lorry (truck) was a monitoring unit from the Bostopian Intelligence Services. Also in the near vicinity was four armoured personnel carriers, camouflaged against prying eyes.

"We must not only support our Casaran comrades uprising, we must rise against the current occupationary East Isle Government with their fascist policies and smash them and the 'monarchy' into the ground!"

Treason was enough for the monitoring staff to make the decision to send the troops in. The order came through and the four APCs screamed into the yard of the building. The teenagers, male and female, being lead by veteran commanders stormed out of the backs of the vehicles. Their young faces were etched with fear and adrenaline, finally being able to face down the red menace which they had been taught about for so long.

Some, however, were still concerned at their safety, clutching the gun in their arms like it were the teddy bear they had left at home some six and a half months previous.

"Forward!" came the shrill cry of one of the Colour Sergeants, as he charged toward the door, kicking it open. The Communist guard on the other side was left with a stunned expression on his face as a bullet penetrated his ribcage, tearing through his heart and out of the other side.

The lasers on the guns of the young soldiers were sighting up targets and watching them fall as they raced through toward the back of the building, toward the room where the meeting was being held. Medics meanwhile streamed in to attend to a girl soldier of 16 who had been shot in the leg and was bleeding profusely.

Heldgard, meanwhile, was not worried. As he sat patiently waiting for the troops, those around him were beginning to loose their heads.

"Comrade, we must act!"

"No. We wait. We have a plan yet."

"Fine, but it's your funeral!"

"Then I will die for the cause."

The Bostopian troops were just outside of the door now. It got kicked in, and troops filled the room.

"Olaf Heldgard," the voice of the Colour Sergeant began, "I am arresting you on charges of inciting treason against the Bostopian Crown and Government. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." The Colour Sergeant moved forward as he said this, preparing to handcuff Heldgard.

"You are, are you?"

"You heard me, you Commie scum. With me, now."

"I don't think so."

Heldgard took a step backward, and at that moment, the screech of tyres filled the room as the room Heldgard was stood in was revealed to be the back of a van, and where the soldiers were stood was the far end of a loading bay.

One of Heldgard's bodyguards reached into his jacket and threw something toward the stunned troops. The Colour Sergeant recognised it instantly.

"GRENADE GET DO-"

The explosion cut him off.

"What news?" Winter said. Her Foriegn Minister and The Head of the Civil Protection and Rescue Forces sat across the desk, looking a bit worn down by the activities of the last few days.

"Nothing, really. There's still demonstrations, but they're the usual students-with-signs things. Nothing to be concerned about." The CP official said.

"Well then, what is there to be concerned about?" She said, a hint of anger present in her voice.

"Well... camera have spotted some loiterers. Once or twice the police have moved quietly on a suspected organizing center, and got nothing for the trouble."

"They're watching the stations? I hope you're arresting these people for loitering."

"Oh, we are. The problem is we can't hold them. And the real problem is that they're getting tipped off whenever the police make a move."

"Damn Communists... I've never met anyone who can get as uppity over anything as they can."

"That's not all."

Winter sighed. "When I tell you I want the bad news, I expect you to TELL me the bad news."

"There's been some... attacks."

"You better to god find a more descriptive term for what's going on."

"Attacks on police officers. Mostly in industrial districts. Putting in calls from warehouses, things like that... attacking the responders."

"This shit doesn't happen in real life." Turning to an intern, she sighed. "Tell me this doesn't happen in real life."

The intern stammered. "It doesn't happen in the real world."

"Sadly, it seems we don't live there anymore." The CP head said.

"Deployment maps." Winter said, the intern quickly placing military deployment maps on the desk. Looking them over quickly, Winter nodded. "Get me the Defense Minister."

"He usually doesn't come in until Nine, ma'am-" The intern said.

"I'm sorry, I'll talk to him then. Wake his ass up and get him here." She said. "This whole country's going to shit. Until he gets here, any news from the Bostopians?"

The Foriegn Minister sighed. "We heard they took down a Communist stronghold themselves, but beyond that, that's all we really know. The Diplomatic Communications Network has been spending most of it's time monitoring international media reports on the crisis."

"What did they have to say?"

"The typical posturing. Nothing with any real teeth."

"Fine. This is the plan..."

---

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(Tyrellia) - In a shock, Premier Meia Winter today announced the deployment of the Eighth Infantry Regiment to County Arnia, in what was stated as an "Auxillary Police Action."

"The ongoing and escalating insurrectionist activity going on in County Arnia has reached a point where we must take some sort of action. The Radical Left Wing Arsorra-Star party and their companions continue to push an agenda of uprising and overthrow of the legal government.

"To protect the citizens, the Eighth Infantry Regiment and it's support troops are being mobilized to support the police in County Arnia. We want to reassure these people that we are not putting the county under martial law. The troops are only there to secure police stations to free greater numbers of police on duty in order to prevent the violence. They do not have the ability to arrest, and as of now, will not be sent out on patrol."

The Premier's reassurances did little to comfort the opposition.

"The Arsorra-Star party has absolutely nothing to do with the outbreak of violence, and he highly regret it's occurance. However, we do believe this is the direct cause of the administration, and could easily be solved with the return of democratic elections."

When asked why a number of the arrested protesters appear on Arsorra-Star membership lists, Party officials responded with the following statement:

"The number of party members that have been arrested in protests has been extremely small, only eleven or twelve, and that in those cases, the party is not responsible for the individual actions of our members."

---

"I'm worried about the elections." Winter said, staring out the window at the afternoon sun.

"Why? We've always gotten a healthy majority in County Elections." The Deputy Premier asked, doodling on the back of some unimportant memo.

"Well, it's not exactly the status quo, is it? We need to get rid of these damn insurrectionists before the elections, or else we're going to have some serious problems."

"They're not pushing anymore... but we're starting to lose the popular support." Winter's Interior Minister said, tapping the armrest of his chair.

Winter sat back and yawned. "That's of no concern. We have a solution."

"Wait, what?"

"Well, it came to me. The people are complaining about what we're doing because they believe it to be outside the law."

"Which it's not."

"Proving their ignorance, yes. But seeing as they want this to be clearly defined, let's give them what they like."

"Meaning..."

"Let's write a constitution."

"What?..."

"If they want to know the laws, we'll lay some out for them. Nice and well defined ones. With a really strong executive branch. I dunno, maybe an emperor. It's something to work on."

"It's a solid plan. The problem is, though, if it doesn't solve the problems we'll have some permanently uppity citizens."

Winter shrugged. "Let them do what they like. We can even put it up for public vote, too. Let them think they have some say. But the important thing-

"We stay in charge."

"Exactly. So there's really no concern, no matter what anyone says." Winter said.

"How much though did that take?"

"I'm a genius, it doesn't take much."

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JAF bombs unknown training camps

The Jeruselem Airforce (JAF) spotted some strange unknown training military camps in a lightly populated area of Jeruselem. After consulting with local militia leaders, the origin of these camps were unknown. The Jeruselem government sent in Arab militia loyal to Jeruselem government to investigate and they found themselves in gunfight with largely unknown armed men.

The local Arab Militia leader who was in the gunfight said they looked like a bunch of crazy commies. Last night, the camp was bombed by the JAF using what the JAF termed "fireworks" which in military speak really means Napalm.

Special forces flew in and swept the area and found some stragglers who did not look like any Jewish, Arab or Christian Militias in existence. They were best described as "Maoists" with little red books.

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(Tyrellia, Whitefox) - The first meeting of the nwly formed "Government Reform Committee" is taking place today. Consisting of forty-seven National Assembly members, the group is considering that can be done to change Casaran government law to help the current crisis.

"We're dedicated to solving this. We're a civilized nation and there's no reason to resort to violence." one Labor assemblyman said.

While the members of the group are made up mostly of Populist and Labor MPs, members of the National Conservative, Casari Liberal, and several minor parties were also included.

"This isn't about pushing any sort of policy. This is about figuring out how to fix our nation." Premier Winter said to the press at the announcement of the formation of the group.

Members of the Arsorra-Star party were not included, however. "Parties that are only oriented towards the destabilization of our nation and the construction of an oppressive communist regime in it's place have no place in determining a peaceful future for Casari." Winter said in response to questions on the composition of the committee.

The Arsorra-Star was quick to respond. In a public statement, the party accused Winter of "Using a committee to make it appear it is the people's will to have her installed as a permanent
autocrat." and that "Power should rest with a party that truly has the interests of the people in mind."

The government dismissed the comments, saying "We will not respond to the baiting of a terrorist organization."

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(Tyrellia) - The first reports from the Government Reform Committee, which is nearing the completion of it's work, has come out, and they're a bit strange to say the least.

Featuring an autocratic Premier, titles in the fashion of 400 years ago, the reestablishment of the Prime Minister as the head of the Legislative side of government, and split-control of the military, the future plan for the government is odd, to say the least. (Link to diagram (http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b20/Casari/gov.png))

In an unusual move, none of the political parties were willing to comment on the speculation coming out of the committee, except ignored claims by the Ansorra-Star party claiming reorganization is an ongoing attempt for Winter to hijack the government further.

At the same time, reports of bombings in Jerusalem of what has been called "Maoist" terrorist camps are being followed closely by the government, as popular violence is being replaced by small armed outbursts against police officers on patrol.

"We have yet to find any suitable leads on how the communist rebels are getting into the country or where their weapons are coming from." a spokesperson for the County Arnia Police said today. "But we are following every lead possible and we are working hard to prevent future attacks, which we have had some success with to date."

Some dark catacomb in the Imperial City - Hangyeong

News around the world was "as a normal day" - with one notable exception. It wasn't so much that yet another popular revolution was threatening civil order and stability; it was more or less the loose connection of those events abroad that tied a few Imperial smuggling rings to a very potentially close resemblance to those organizations abroad. It has been many years in the constant battle against anarchist organizations - typically those of extreme ideologies - and only recently have these organizations come to the front once again. Their purposes were hidden, and to say the least, from where and to what extent their organizations were receiving aid remained largely unknown.

Before the desk of the Hwarang Chief Duke Weon Gwang (원광궁) lay two pieces of evidence that finally tied some details together. He called for the Moon Hwarang (Chief of Intelligence) Count Yu Seongryong (유성룡포국) - asking to verify the data.

"Is it true?" Weon asked astutely.

"As far as my people have determined, these facts have been checked, and there is little reason to believe that they are false information. If you would like, I can authorize further investigation into this matter."

"No. If it is true, now is the time for action - otherwise, we risk losing time to the element of surprise. I find it hard that the Mujeongbu (무정부) would dare to incite foreign dissidents to arms. What would they profit from this?"

Count Yu pulled out a map from his case, opening it on the wall. After opening the map, he invited the Duke to take a closer look; it was a crude map of the world.

"The Mujeongbu have been suppressed in large effort to the Hwarang and coordination with other countries. Our campaign has been largely successful in limiting them in their logistical abilities. Having seen failure in the Han territories, they have defected to an alternative theory - build the home overseas, and return home. The idea is to start a new state, with the ideals of utopianism and anarchism combined with the ideas of other extreme positions, notably those of traditional communist thought. Countries abroad have coined this as 'Maoism' - presumably after some person named "Mao" who advocated this theory."

"Is this man - 'Mao' - still alive?"

Count Yu shook his head - "It's hard to say. Some say he is immortal, but others say he is in hiding against the reactionaries. Whatever that tends to mean, the theory itself has garnered enough strength from around the world, such that the theory perpetuates itself. 'Mao' has become lost in the translation, and the only message remaining is that of order borne of chaos."

"I cannot figure out the contradiction."

"No one expects it," Count Yu replied. "In any case, our own Mujeongbu has allegedly sponsored numerous Maoist takeovers around the world, making our country one of the largest surreptitious sponsors of international terrorism - a policy frequently forbidden in official Imperial discourses. The problem that the Moon Hwarang have found is that most of the Mujeongbu have already shifted overseas - which sort of contradicts the statement, that the Empire is a sponsor of terrorism, since the actors no longer act from within Imperial territory. This is where it gets confusing - because these people are allegedly Han citizens; possible but unlikely, given our standards of citizenship. Because they are our citizens, they are within our jurisdiction of prosecution; but because they are overseas, they cannot be apprehended."

Duke Weon nodded. He seemed to be deep in thought. "How is the Empire responsible for the actions of the Mujeongbu if they are no longer domestic actors?"

"We know of their actions, and their intention is to create global chaos and revolution. It seems unlikely, but they have already gathered significant support overseas. The Mujeongbu have already aligned themselves with as many revolutionary organizations around the world, and it seems that the global cesspool of anarchy is waiting to be tapped."

"There is a problem that I have spotted in your report," Duke Weon said, as he pointed out the simple word - "violent". He handed the paper to Count Yu, as he gave his reasoning. "I have read the reports coming from Casari, that the revolutionaries there have resorted to non-violent tactics to progress their ideology. And this is public information too."

"May it please his Excellency, the Duke Weon Gwang, I have noted this error. But I assure you that it is all part of their tactics. To resort to non-violent means is not uncommon to even the most vile of abominable states seeking to take the moral position. In the objective to win the hearts of the people, some groups will turn to non-violent means to elicit the status as the victim, thereby justifying in some effect the retaliation that is to follow."

"Retaliation."

"Yes. The situation in Casari could not be more dire; by my estimates, the state is on the verge of civil conflict if just one demonstration turns violent. Of course, the most cautious and conservative estimates say that five violent demonstrations would be sufficient, but you never know with foreign people - they act in different ways."

"Hmmm. It seems to me that this may need some more time to validate the facts, particularly since the Empire does not share formal contacts with many of these countries. In fact, I doubt that any of these countries have formal established relations with the Empire, and unfortunately, the Mujeongbu won't play by our plays."

"If need be, I can authorize an investigation immediately."

Duke Weon shook his head, instead turning to his desk. Count Yu folded up the map and prepared to be dismissed, as the meeting was nearing its end. Duke Weon then wrote up a quick note. "I need to inform the Emperor of this matter. It may be necessary to collaborate with the other countries involved, before we can start any investigation. Nonetheless, I am authorizing any measure require to crack down on any remaining Mujeongbu strongholds in the Empire - if we starve them of home support, that will be one less organization to remove."

"As you wish."

(ooc: if this is out of place, please let me know and I will delete; hopefully, it's constructive... and yes, red=sic)

The Emperor's Office in the Imperial City - Hangyeong

Duke Weon was accustomed to an afternoon tea with the Emperor. Their usual day was Saturday, but circumstance forced them to make it on another day. The Emperor was unusually receptive to this invitation, perhaps indicating that there wasn't much around to detain his attention. They met first at the Imperial Gardens, from there they went together to the Court.

"Duke Weon, it is you who makes this meeting. Tell me what reason brings you here."

The Duke was slow to talk - foreign talk was still relatively taboo in domestic discourse. "I have received intelligence that suggests we may have more trouble from the Mujeongbu in the coming months."

The Emperor immediately perked his ears. "Mujeongbu. Yes, I believe we had done them some time ago. How do we face trouble from them if they are defeated?"

"They may be defeated, but they have found alternative tactics to continue their struggle against us. It seems that they seek to go abroad and bring the war from off-shore."

"Off-shore? You're leading me to some conclusion that seems to imply you don't want me to like what you are about to say. Have courage and speak it thoroughly, or else my tea will go cold."

The Duke sighed and finished his tea, asking for his second cup to be served with wine. "Well, the Mujeongbu have already begun to outsource their activities, making it difficult for our people to combat them. They have sought refuge in countries where we are unable to follow. They have made alliances with many of them, and to what extent they have already cemented some form of retaliation upon the Celestial Empire remains unknown."

"The problem is now apparent - our enemy has made progress against us."

"And against others. They have begun to threaten global security by their activities and forcing the dissolution of many states abroad."

"Well, at home and abroad - this is a problem. What does the Duke suggest is the best option to tackle this problem?"

Duke Weon was prepared for this question, but at the moment, he felt that his words would not be sufficient to convince the Emperor of the graveness of the situation. "We need to expand our foreign repertoire. We have established so few relations with so few countries, and even as we have made progress, the Mujeongbu have proven more adept at establishing themselves in places where we cannot reach without striking some international crisis. I do not want the Hwarang to become entangled in some diplomatic mess because we are pursuing the proper objective, but I do not want to leave the Mujeongbu to remain in force abroad."

"These are reasonable. But don't you agree that the current method to establishing relations is sufficient to handle this load?"

"It is sufficient," Duke Weon replied. "But our tactics are insufficient. We are currently waiting for countries to come to us. The Mujeongbu have adapted themselves are continually seeking new partners, than waiting for them to come. If we are to stay on top, we must ally with countries against the Mujeongbu and their allies, or else risk making this conflict turn for the worse."

"Our mortal enemies - the Mujeongbu - must be stopped. I leave this in your hands to dispense the method in how we should proceed." The Emperor hit a small gong to his right side, and a servant came forward immediately. "Seongil, I need the seal. Seek for it immediately." The servant went away and a minute later, he returned with a golden crest, an orb with the Imperial seal upon it. Writing a quick note, the Emperor took the seal, pressing it in the Imperial red ink, and handed the message to Duke Weon. "I am authorizing you to encourage Count Han (of the Academy of Foreign Affairs) to be more proactive in his establishments of foreign relations, to help us strategically out-maneuver the Mujeongbu. Whatever is necessary to preserve the safety and stability of the Empire for the people. Let us not forget the Mujeongbu and their atrocities."

Duke Weon bowed down and gave thanks - "May it please His Imperial Majesty that it shall be done as you wish to have it." With that, he took his leave, set to make business promptly; it was war again.

A meeting with leftist leaders, union leaders and local "commies" with the "lefty" Princess Katherine Alexandra Dallas.

Kate:
OK, I'm calling a meeting here. As you all know, some of us have got some funny ideas and thinking of an armed uprising against the Jeruselem Crown. I know it's not you lot but there's people out there wanting to turn Jeruselem into one of those gigantic communes. They are now resorting to arms because the general population are religious and think communism is a stupid idea. Look, I'm no commie but I have sympathetic ear to your ideas because I'm Ariddian. But I don't want armed people running around, we have enough militias running around already. This nation will never be democratic, we've been ruled by Emperors, Kings, Sultans and other royalty for quite a while. It's a sad fact, we need iron-fisted emperors to control people around here or iron-fisted bimbos ... but any armed attacks on our government will be met with deadly force. That's all. Work with me and I'll work with you. All I ask is to not inflame the situation in Casari or any other place. I know the governments there aren't nice little democracies but autocratic states with kings or virtual dictatoships by proxy but look - it's an eye for eye, a tooth for a tooth out there. We don't want people dead on the streets."

"Sir, the votes are coming in." an aide yelled in the general direction of Party Leader Thomas Conrad in the recently much-more-busy Casari Liberal Party Headquarters. In a corner, one TV was on CasariOne, the other showing a Casaran Amateur Stickball Semifinal on 4sport between Hillan and Einhaven.

Looking up from the latter, Conrad looked at the Aide holding the phone. The call had come in from one of the Assemblymen, the other lines lighting up as others tried to call in and report.

"What happened?"

The aide looked a bit pale. "After a near-fistfight in the hall... it sounds like it had the votes."

"This is bloody mad. This would never happen in any sane country."

"We've proved that we're far from same a near infinite amount of times." the aide muttered. "So... looks like we have an election to prepare, hmm?" he said, grabbing another phone. "Hello? Oh... just a second." Covering the reciever. "Papers- asking for a response."

"Tell them we're busy- we need to find people to actually stand for election." Conrad said, rubbing his eye.

"I'm sure we can find a thousand or so candidates to. After all, people are insane."

"Either way, start calling the county offices- see if they have some people handy who can stand, the sooner we can start filing papers the better, and urge them not to stand on their own... and someone hang the flag outside again, it seems we're back in business. All we have to do is deal with Winter."

"That's an entirely different problem."

http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b20/Casari/casaritv.png

(Tyrellia) In a dramatic but not unexpected moment today, the suggestions of the Government Reform Committee were adopted today, setting the stage for the first elections in years.

Most parties could not be forced to comment, but several National Conservative Officials mentioned that they were excited about the upcoming elections. "We feel that after a long period of an essentially useless government, we feel we're in a very strong position to possibly control the Legislative side of the new government."

Analysts agree, for the most part, expecting the newly announced elections to be a two-horse race, between the mostly marginalized Casari Liberal and National Conservative parties. One said, "after the apparent abuse of power by the Populists and Labor party, we can't see them getting much, if any, voter turnout at the polls."

As part of the various shifts in the Military, units were renamed, and in more than one situation, troops had to pile in trucks and roll through a few counties to get to their destinations.

That was the unfortunate reality for the Second Arnia Regiment, who were nearing their new home at Fort Jori, just inside the county border.

"Damn, Sergeant, aren't we there yet?" Trooper Red Barwalter said, sitting against the side of the truck bed and watching the empty countryside pass through an open flap in the canopy.

"Damnit, we'll get there when we get there, all right?" Sergeant Mike Roebald said, adjusting the helmet on his head.

The group continued to ride in silence when an explosion ahead of them snapped them to attention. "Out, now!" The sergeant yelled, turning as the truck swerved off of the road. The soldiers quickly departed the truck through the tailgate and spread out, stopping to stare at the burning truck in front of them, soldiers dragging their wounded comrades away from the ruin and screaming for medics.

"Holy balls..." Barwalter muttered, turning and continuing the yells for a medic as soldiers fanned out along the road. Up ahead, more explosions were going off, ahead of the stopped convoy.

---

"Thankfully, they don't know shit for timers." Lieutenant General Richard Lowenstan said, sitting back in his chair after the debriefing on the incident. A number of timed explosives placed along the road- thankfully, one was set wrong and only one truck was damaged.

"What were the losses?" Winter asked quietly.

"Two killed, eleven injured." The general said. "Thank god it wasn't worse."

"It's bad enough." Winter muttered. "We need to do something about this, and quickly."

"But what?"

Winter took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "This isn't going to go over well with anyone. Order the 4th People's Brigade to move in and relieve the... what the hell did we rename whoever was there to? Anyway, relieve whoever's there. Give Brigadier Ryan whatever he needs to get rid of this damned problem before it ruins my government." Looking across the table at the Foriegn Minister, she nodded. "See if you can't find us some help from someone who knows how to root out the communists, hmm?"

The Dark Catacomb Office Once Again...

Duke Weon had since returned to his office, when a studious officer rushed in with a notice from Count Yu. "The anarchists have begun the war in Casari."

The Duke turned to him, comfortably settled and not all too surprised - it was a revelation that he had long expected - at the result. "Bring Count Yu to me." The officer went away quickly, and hastily brought the two together in the same room once again. Count Yu was as confident as he ever was.

"You were right in your calculations, Count."

"Almost, Duke."

"Almost? Explain."

"The Maoists will begin their campaign with an attack, not a defense. I believe that they had been waiting for violence to happen, but as the elections in Casari drew near, they realized that they needed to elicit some harsh response from the government. We now have significant literature from our transcribed discourses from the Mujeongbu, and the Casari Communists are ready for war. It is with much haste that whatever plan has been operation to plan for this contigency be issued immediately."

Duke Weon nodded. "So what you say is that the war has not yet started."

Count Yu nodded as well. "It might have already started, but the plans are out, and we have them. The Mujeongbu have been sloppy in their intelligence and we have caught sufficient data that indicates an attack is imminent."

"Explain to me what you know of the Casari Communists."

"Well, it's a rather distasteful misnomer, because they are true anarchists. They have been collaborating with the other dissidents in the country, seeking to bring a united front against the Casari government and prompt them for change. I believe their plans began to backfire when the government showed that it was in some part willing to compromise a solution. This compromise has almost diffused the situation, and the anarchists, seeking to overturn the entire government in Casari, has taken a great leap forward to their next stage."

Duke Weon nodded. He was contemplating his next move, as Count Yu continued to talk.

"If we are able to coordinate with Casari officials, we may be able to prevent an attack. However, we would have to act quicklybefore the first move. Otherwise, we may be looking at a calamitous Casari in the coming weeks."

"We do not yet have relations with Casari."

"We must change that. Offer relations."

Duke Weon smiled and brushed his bread, as the kings of ages before once did when they had a brilliant plan on their mind. Count Yu was keen about this, and felt at ease to see that action. "What does the Esteemed Hwarang Master wish to do?"

"I have received the Emperor's blessing to do whatever it necessary to make things right. In effect, I have authority over Count Han Seungsu (Administrator for the Academy of Foreign Affairs) to do what is needed. Our first course of action will be - as you say - to establish relations. Once we have done this, we have many new options before us, and I am only realizing how much opportunity lies ahead for us."

"Well, if his Excellency has the authority why doesn't he do this?"

Duke Weon nodded his head forward, as if to whisper his reply. "If we make this action, it will be perceived by the public. And as we know, what is public knowledge is generally known easily throughout all lands. And you have just told me that the Mujeongbu have been sloppy in the intelligence. Let us ponder that point. Why have the Mujeongbu been sloppy?"

"I have not yet thought on that. I only reflected that we had the information that is dire and important."

"Reflect on that, but also give account to the manner in which you received the information. Is it customary of the Mujeongbu?"

"Not entirely, but they are human too. They make mistakes."

"As do we. Have you not even considered that the Mujeongbu might want us to divert our attention overseas? You have said it before - they wish to establish themselves overseas before returning home. Perhaps they are ambitious, and they want us to send our armies abroad to quell them abroad and strike simultaneously at our home. Who will be hurt the most?"

"I cannot imagine it... but it is possible."

"Cautious thinking, Count," Duke Weon said, reclining back. "That is what brought me here. I have people gather the intelligence for me and the Empire, but I read it all. It is necessary to read the lines or otherwise miss the context of the message."

"But can we also assume that they are not wishing to divert our attention? This matter is dire."

"I cannot assume that the Mujeongbu have given us false information. I cannot assume that they gave it by chance. I must therefore plan my action in a manner that addresses all of these and yields to us the most profitable outcome. Tell me - if we recognize the state in Casari, what do we gain besides a friend in need? - We gain some things, but we lose the element of surprise. Instead, we need to keep things as they are and send our forces secretly. It is entirely legal - if we consult the Casari government secretly. We must maintain our element of surprise - not to prevent this from becoming public knowledge but to sustain the element of surprise against the Mujeongbu. Remember, this is a war against the Mujeongbu, not the Casari Communists, or whatever they are. The Maoists."

"Well, whatever it is that we do, we must accomplish it quickly."

"You are the Commander of the Moon Hwarang. It is your task, and I leave this to you. Remember, this is secret, and if any information leaks out, we must categorically deny it."

Count Yu nodded his head and dismissed himself, leaving the Duke to finish his other tasks.

--==--==--++--==--==--
VSIC or else I will n00k you with the almighty pwnz0r cann0n

To His Esteemed Excellence, the Presiding Leader of Casari:

I am an esteemed representative of a foreign entity with a vested interest in the stability and integrity of your country. It has come to our knowledge that a group of anarchists in your country have decided to wage war against the firmly established and progressive state in Casari, despite attempts of said government to maintain stability and order. It is our firm desire to retaliate against said anarchists, who are believed to be affiliated with a group that is mutually disliked and annihilated at every opportunity in our country. With your permission, we can send a specialized unit of soldiers and counter-terrorists to eliminate this domestic threat.

For obvious reasons to remain untold, our government is unwilling to disclose its status relative to your government, and we wish to keep it this way. This creates an obvious risk, and to allay the risks of receiving an undocumented message with no way to send a reply, we are offering this indicator. If your government agrees to accept our aid, have an esteemed leader of your government read this message publicly within 36 hours:

"The Moon rises high this season;
But the Tide does not follow.
What reason keeps the Moon high,
And leaves below all fields to fallow?"

At that point, our specialized team will take off to enter your airspace with 36 hours. When your radars recognize an unidentified aircraft, please acknowledge the craft with your standard greeting for straying aircraft. If we are authentic, we will reply: "March - May - July; this is blah-blah of the Sovereign blah-blah or blah-blah." Obviously, the blah-blahs will be replaced by the appropriate types, which will remain unscripted until the day arrives. Our forces, at that time, will unveil our colors, and all shall be made available to your intelligence network.

If you government does not wish to receive aid, please say nothing. Please also note that if we do not receive any reply within 36 hours that we will presume that there has been a negative response and will desist any attempt to offer aid to your country.

We wish to convey three things to your sovereign government - (1) we are not in any alliance with the anarchists that seek to destroy you; (2) we are not in any alliance with any other country that seeks to destroy you; (3) and we are not disposed to hurt or hinder your progress at a state in any way. We are simply a like-minded state with a goal to prevent the collapse and disintegration of Casari before a similar event attempts the same in our own country. We do not mean to say that your government is incapable or unwilling to fix these issues, but only that we recognize a significant threat that may tie our countries, as well as many others into a global conflict against a mutual foe. We hope that your government accepts this offer, and is not wary of our offer, because we guarantee that any acceptance will benefit the both of us immensely.

Most Sincerely,

A Mutual Observer.


PS>>> If your people attempt to trace this message, not only will you find that we have sent this message through a highly regulated network on a foreign country, but that it is also laced with codes that will release malignant strains on your own networks; please note that this is not any attempt to destroy your networks, but rather a mechanism we employ to prevent others from doing the same. If you are reading this message, then you are the true and intended observers. We apologize in advance if this protection system backfires against your country's informations infrastructure.

It was two in the afternoon. The Emperor was sat on his bed, daydreaming of younger days now past, and the freedom they allowed him.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter." He called, his voice not showing any waverings of the emotion that wanted to burst out.

"It has begun in Casari, sire."

"Declared?"

"Not as such. But an Army vehicle was struck by a roadside bomb."

"I want a call put through to the Casaran command, the legitimate one before all this crap happened. Tell them we have the Emperor's Own Regiment on standby for them at a moments notice."

"Right away, sire."

Haelwen turned to leave the room, and was half way out the door when the Emperor called.

"Haelwen!" He shouted, with Haelwen turning mid-step to face the Emperor. "Have the Emperor's Own deploy now, and head toward Casari. Take lots of support ships incase we have to sit outside of their waters while waiting."

"As you wish."

The Emperor sat back down, humming military marches, while a wry, sickening smile slowly crossed his face, as he whispered softly to himself, though with the intent of those who ought to worry hearing it also;

"The day will come for reprisal, no forgiveness. Revenge and glory shall ring around the land."

"The wackos sure come out of the woodwork, don't they?" Premier Winter said, trying to crack her back. "Anyway, first, Bostopia."

The foreign minister nodded. "They have some ships floating about 13 miles out now, full of their fanatical nut cases they armed with guns."

Winter shrugged. "We can't say they're coming in to blow the fuck out of the place, now can we?"

"Nothing close."

"Let's see... send out a press release. Say that they're here for 'alpine training' under the leadership of the 1st Redhill Regiment. Find them someplace at Fort Killian for them to live in, and introduce their... what, Colonel? Who leads Regiments in Bostopia?"

"Hell if I know."

"Anyway, contact the Brigadier and let him know about the new assets at his disposal. In the meantime, find them some uniforms so it doesn't look like we have foreign troops kicking around the place, hmm?"

"Yes, ma'am. And the random message?"

"Ooh, yes, this is a good one... what have the tech boys figured out?" Winter asked, putting her feet up on her desk.

"Well, they more or less burnt up a computer trying to hack it out. For some reason, whoever sent it didn't seem to realize that we'd unplug a computer from the network before going to work, but they couldn't stay away from their minesweeper tournament for long enough to get too much work done. There are theories, but that's all we have."

"You think we should take it?" Winter said, biting a fingernail.

"With all due respect, a random statement from some country we don't know and that hasn't identified itself isn't really something to go on."

"Plus we'd have to be nuts to let an unregulated death squad loose in the country. What happened to the days where you just had someone slip someone else a piece of paper on a train who stuck it in the pocket of some official who gave it to the HoG?" She said, sighing. "International relations has lost most, if not all, of it's interest."

"How true."

"Don't give any kind of response just yet... see what advances we can make on the message. We still have a day, and to waste time needlessly is unwise... check the circles, see if we can track anyone who'd do this down."

"So the warnings saying not to?"

"They've of course been carefully considered, and naturally, thrown out the window."

"So if we do need something... taken care of?"

"The Bostopians, of course. If we need something a bit more legit, the 5th Colonials are always an option. However, we don't want this to become a firefight."

"That's the problem. Our intelligence operations are a bit lacking. We can bring the noise plenty fine."

"So let's drop some hints of our own... we'll have the Deputy make a statement about, say... the difficulties we're having acquiring quality sources of intelligence. Add the normal confirmations on how we're all safe, but make sure it stands out."

"Yes, ma'am."

---

Thomas Conrad was a bit disturbed by recent events.

"This stinks." He said, setting down a container of Chinese food.

"I know, we're not ordering from that place again."

"No. This whole political situation. How come there's never been any uprising by communists before? Were you even aware there were communists in Casari?"

"No, but nobody pays attention to the freaks." an intern said.

"That's true, at least. This just feels wrong. Probably the first terrorist attack in the history of the whole damn country."

"There were those City fans that lit a bus on fire when International moved to the Hill."*

"You could hardly call that terrorism. It's not like there were people on the bus."

"Still."

Conrad shrugged and looked for something edible in the pile of little takeout boxes. "At any rate, it's weird."

"I'll agree with weird."

"Thank you."

---
*This refers to a particularly pointless part of Casaran Soccer History about the movement of teams in and out of the capital, and could be read by those who don't care as "Hooligans light a bus on fire".

Duke Weon reviewed the letter sent to Casari and was nearly fuming in a mixed array of anger and laughter.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of guarding our element of surprise."

Count Yu was a little anxious, and with good reason.

"This letter that you sent, even I wouldn't reply to it. I has 'scam' written all over it. I guess you'd better hope that the people in Casari are genuine idiots to follow up with this one."

"Well, I did make arrangements..."

"Bah. You have no idea. We have secure lines; they have secure lines. Why couldn't you just send them a secure line? There's a minute possibility that even the Mujeongbu will even know that we sent a message to the government."

Duke Weon shook his head. He filled a glass full with water and drank it in one gulp. He laid the cup on the table rather forcefully, revealing the intense array of emotions hidden behind the stern face. "Well, again. You'd better hope that these are some stupid idiots standing on the other side of the letter. Either that or extremely desperate. Maybe drugged full with opium or heroin. I don't know. I would simply throw that one in the trash, because there's nothing on there that tells me that it isn't a scam waiting for a lunatic to jump out. It basically says - 'Please! Come invade me!' - all over it!"

The Duke was tired now. "Well, I think you and I have a lot of work now. And from now on, I would consider you verifying everything that you do with me, or at least until I feel more comfortable with your habits."

"Yes, Duke Weon."

"Please. I need some time alone."

And Count Yu departed the dark office, leaving Duke Weon alone to think up a way to get Hwarang warriors into the fray. At least without starting an international conflict. Still, the Hwarang elite would be left on standby, to await the signal from Casari - if it ever came.

"News?" Winter asked.

"You'll like this." Her foreign minister said, sitting down. "Remember that fifteen year old computer you were using as a doorstop?"

"Oh, sparky?"

"Yes... sparky. Anyway, one of the nerds grabbed it in a moment of genius and decided to play with the message on it."

"Could it even read the message?"

"Well, yes... just not any of the formatting. Which was the trick, as it was too bloody old and badly programmed to implement the anti-snooping programming." the minister said, pushing a piece of paper across the desk.

"Are we sure on this?"

"God, I hope so." The minister said in reply. "It's not like we're well known for our technical prowess, is it? But it should be solid enough... you're not going to say anything on TV, are you?"

"Oh, hell no. I'm not looking bloody mad for the sake of some foriegners. I look plenty insane already." Winter said. "Do we have anyone who can cut a contact path?"

"Probably nothing very elaborate... I'm confident it could be done."

"Let's hope it can, before I totally go off of it."

---

Ed Robman, scout for the Casari Soccer Authority and part-time international spy (just like all the other CSA scouts) held the handset to the sattelite phone in his hand, blinking in disbelief. "That's the stupidest contact plan I've ever heard."

A number of expletives from the other side of the phone through the odd burst of static was intended to make him think otherwise.

"They're probably picking up on this transmission right now. It's not like we're the most subtle people ever."

Another burst of swearing and a click from the other end informed him that he didn't have much of a choice.

So, after lunch, and putting on a shirt complete with the CSA logo, Robman wandered out of his apartment, slowly making his way to the center of Government in Daehanjeiguk. Turning to see if anyone was watching, he judged the distance, bit his lip, and threw it at the nearest guard.

"I'm totally quitting after this." he muttered, squeezing the piece of paper with the password and various contact instructions in his pocket, and waiting to see exactly what the penalty was for pegging a guard with a tennis ball.

(ooc: we use the British system for Armed Forces ranks)

It was cold in the mountainous regions of Casari that night, though not one of them would have dared been heard saying that by commanding officers. The white tents of the Emperor's Own Regiment were occupied spare one or two on sentry duty, at this early stage of the night, with the moon's light barely visable through the clouds, cutting it's way through the packed forest of pine trees. This, while not providing adequate cover for an advancing army, worked well for the forces in a foreign land. Enough light to see who was coming, not enough to be fully in the open.

Either way, the heat-sensing-cameras would do the trick.

The two men on sentry duty on the east side were conversing about the current situation.

"What is this bull?"

"Whaddya mean Macca?"

"We're brought 'ere to get bloody revenge for Port Flamerty and we're out in the field, in ruddy itchy uniforms, up some bloody mountain with not a red in sight!"

"Yeah, it is a bit pisstake mate, but whatt'rya gonna do, can't go charging out there can ya?"

"I f'n would if I wouldn't get bloody court marshalled!"

"I know I know. They'd prob let us off anyway ennit, what with being the best units both isles."

"I suppose...what's that?"

The crunching of boots on snow was heard, and a figure was fast approaching.

"Who goes there?!?" the order barked out, the deep Kisingtonian accent piercing through the night.

"Delta Foxtrot Hotel" was the reply, said with an accent identifying the owner of being of Drangmorish stock.

The men stood in near silence for a moment, regaining their composure. It wasn't extremely rare that pass was used. Not for a few decades now.

"Messenger, you are clear to proceed," came the Kisingtonians reply, "the Field Marshal is to be found in Tent Kilo."

The crunching of the snow occured much more often now, as the messenger broke into a sprint.

The Fort Bostonian accent of the first sentry broke through the thick silence - "The Emperor's dead, then..."

(ooc: the scene is probably going to be on RL Tiananmen Square...without the obvious allusions to Chinese Communism and Mao)

The guard felt a hard hit on his back, and turned to see a tennis ball on the ground. Taking the tennis ball, he looked around to see if there was anyone nearby playing tennis. It was an awkward setting for a tennis ball, but he waited to see if anyone was going to come to collect their ball.

It was harmless mostly, and there were a lot of people there. It was probably some random tourist who was playing ball with their kid. He thought to himself - At least it's not a frisbee.

Prince: Ah, there's my little commie girl!
Kate: Me? No, no. Socialist, not commie.
Prince: Same to me anyway, but how was the meeting with the other commies.
Kate: I told them our message.

Prince: And in return?
Kate: They talk to me. I think it's a good compromise.
Prince: Well, I trust Ariddians more than some other peoples anyway. So did anyone not attend?
Kate: The extremists I guess, the ones we want to hunt down. I think they will just do that they want, so there's no surprise there.

Prince: Any news of our people stirring up trouble in Casari?
Kate: Not officially, I'm sure there's rogue elements out there in Casari from Jeruselem.
Prince: Nevermind, what about our commies in other places.
Kate: They didn't say but our commies don't have much influence anyway, well except for people like me.

Prince: You're a different class of commie, pinkies. Not red, just pink.
Kate: And Catholic too!

Winter blinked with disbelief. "Wait... dead?"

The Foreign Minister nodded, frowning.

"Dead dead?"

"How many kinds of dead are there?"

"Well, there's dead, and kind of dead."

"What exactly is kind of dead?"

"You know, like a coma. One of those really deep braindead ones, but they're still breathing and everything."

"I dunno if they're only kind of dead at that point. I mean, you're either alive or your not. If you're braindead, you don't have much of a chance."

"There's still the off chance." Winter said, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Anyway, this isn't exactly the ideal area of discussion."

"Right, right... do we know what happened?"

"No, not yet. We've overheard it going around the Bostopian camp a bit, but there's been no news of confirmation."

"Great, unsubstantiated rumor." Winter said. "How's the contact with the... what, Hans?"

The minister nodded. "Our efforts to get the contact arrested as to not tip anyone off were a complete failure."

"Wait, what? Arrested?"

"Yes... why?"

Winter hit her head on the desk. "Get me a phone book."

"What?"

"Find me their phone number." Winter said, glaring.

"How-"

"I don't care, go to their bloody website!" she hollered.

An aide nearly knocked over the departing Foriegn Minister as he left the room. "Premier, we have a positive identification on a location."

"What? Where?" Winter said.

"About 30 miles north of Princeton, along the coast. County police have the house under observation."

"That's all well and good, but where's the proof?"

"Weapons?" The aide said.

Winter nodded. "Call Brigadier Ryan and get the bastards."

"Take them out?"

"... no. We want them to talk. Make sure the Brigadier knows that. We don't want a bloodbath, not now."

The aide ran off, nearly knocking over the returning Foreign Minister, who put a piece of paper with a phone number on her desk. "This'll never work."

Winter sighed. "You people make this way too complicated." she said, dialing the phone.

The Emperor's body lay lying in state in an open coffin in the middle of the St. Michael's Cathedral in Fort Boston. To his right, the Empress, and to her right, Prince Jenson.

The bullet wounds were covered by the clothing they were now wearing as millions of Bostopians made what was being called a "pilgramage" past the coffins of the Royal Family, with military guard making a permanent presence in full ceremonial dress, heads dropped forward, the peak of their caps almost leaning against the point of their bayonets.

Outside, the crowd was hushed, though some weeping was heard at the spillage of Royal blood. Some had climbed the spiral spaircase twirling it's way up the centuries-old belltower, toward the spire, and were looking out across Fort Boston, tears dripping from their eyes.

Nightime fell, and every light in the city went off at 21:00. Blackout curtains were pulled across, and Bostopia was plunged into darkness. Satellite images would show the Twin Isles and her territories to be as black as the curtains of mourning during this time.

Inside the Isles Parliament, however, much was stirring. The Casaran authorities had been warned of an expected massive change of power in Bostopia, and change was also taking place in the viewpoints of parties in Bostopia, let alone the population.

Prime Minister Paul Granworth, currently de facto head of state, was locked in conversation with Matthew Lawson, leader of the National Party of Bostopia, regarding the current situation.

"Matthew, you know as well as I did that having both him and the Prince unprotected was much too risky, and all three of them paid the ultimate price!"

"Paid the price for what, Prime Minister, serving their country?"

"Ultimately, yes! Isn't that what we all want? It's what we were trained for!"

"Of course I'd give the ultimate for Bostopia, don't you dare suggest otherwise!" Lawson snapped back, slamming his fist on the desk.

"I was not suggesting that! Look, we're both basically of the Party. The Emperor, for all his faults, knew the best way to keep us in power was to split us and give the people no choice. We've already lost the Imperial Party through this damn event, we don't want to loose the BNP AND the NPB!"

"True."

As the conversation continued, a 27 year old man sat in the corner. The protegé of Granworth, he was already proving himself adapt at speech writing and making his presence felt.

"Perhaps, Prime Minister," the man began, "we should toughen up our act." Both Prime Minister and Lawson turned their heads.

"Go on."

"The population will want blood, and want it quickly. They will want tough measures now, and we're not in the position to give them that at the moment."

"Cut to the chase, Alan."

"We act weekly in Parliament. 'Suggest' the population act no differently, say that revenge should be something that ought to be considered in moderation."

Lawson looked appaled.

"They'll never accept that and you know it!"

Alan smiled at Matthew.

"The BNP party conference is coming up at the start of next month. Long enough after the funerals for us to launch a new leadership campaign."

"And just how do you suggest getting rid of me?" The Prime Minister questioned, his frame suddenly seeming to bulk up.

"Bostopians will blame the current Govertment for not being oppressive enough on reds and the like. There's a chance even the NPB could get in at this rate."

Lawson looked displeased at this snide jab, though inside was brimming with thoughts, wondering whether it could indeed happen.

"What the citizens will be looking for is a candidate who will be tough, who will capture their minds with the tough talk they crave, capture their hearts with images of that candidate at the tomb of the Emperor and ancient Bostopian battlefields with a tear in his eye, capturing the very patriotism that each and every one of us who can call ourselves true Bostopians feels running through every cell of our of flesh as soon as the first chords of 'Song for the Bostopian Patriot' is played! They will want someone with the experience to know what exactly is going on, and how things should be done."

Alan paused for a moment.

"And they will want that same person to be young enough to put these plans through."

Granworth and Lawson looked at each other. They didn't say anything, but they were sold on backing Alan Sentor run for Prime Minister, even if he wasn't 'subtly' hinting that he would be what the electorate was looking for.

Granworth was the first to speak up.

"Any ideas on who this would be, Sentor?"

Alan smiled again. This time, it was the smile of a man who had finally found his young dreams were coming to fruition. The propaganda machine put in place by the Emperor had worked completely to plan, even if the Emperor hadn't been around to see it, and Sentor hadn't realised it.

"Actually, Prime Minister, I do have one candidate in mind."

Duke Weon looked at the clock, and noted that it was past the time. He called Count Yu - "Cancel the trip. The Casari are not idiots, as I had expected and certainly hoped."

The phone call ended and Duke Weon continued with his other plans, hoping that the Mujeongbu wouldn't gather strength from this inactivity.

"What did you find?" Winter said.

"These people must have a printing press somewhere, because they sure print a hell of a lot of propaganda... a crate of Army Z6 demolition compound, which we have no idea where it came from, some foreign weapons, we haven't pinned them down yet... Ooh, plane tickets."

"Plane tickets? To where?"

"Here."

"That's not helping."

"Well, they're stubs really, but the source is interesting."

"Well then, where the hell are they from?"

"Jerusalem, it seems."

"... huh."

"Aye, that's how we all kind of reacted. It gives us a chance on the source, though."

"Monitor all the inbound international flights. We don't want any more of them in the country. Anyone talk?"

"No, they're surprisingly well conditioned not to. We'll give them some incentives to for a few days, and then we'll see what they say."

"All right. Good work, and try not to get blown up, allright?"

"That's the goal." Brigadier Ryan said, hanging up the phone on his end.

Winter sat at her desk, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. It was four in the morning, and nothing good happened at three in the morning. Yawning, she grabbed her coat from the nearby stand and pulled it on, preparing to leave for the day once again. She jumped when there was a large crack at the window behind her, and spun to see the bullseye pattern of a bullet impact against bulletproof glass.

Throwing herself against the floor, Winter crawled to the corner and pressed herself up against the wall. "Security!"

A uniformed trooper stuck his head in the door, holding his weapon. Winter pointed at the impact on the window, sending the guard yelling orders into his radio to block off the other building.

"Don't worry, Premier, we'll get him." He said, glancing out the window.

Two Bostopian soldiers crunched back into the camp, still in Casaran uniform, with a ragged-looking man being led at gunpoint toward the tank park. One of the commanding officers stepped out.

"Jenkins, Griff, what are you doing with that man?"

"We captured this Communist spy writing notes on our positions, sir, so we brought him back to get more information out of him."

"Right."

The man was lead toward the tank park, which was a recent developments. The tanks themselves had only been assembled when the Emperor's Own Regiment had gotten to Casari, the parts shipped over in crates to avoid detection. So far, it had worked rather well.

"How'd you catch this man anyway?"

"Well, sir, you'll note he's wearing red, which doesn't work well in conditions such as these."

The man was brought over to a Denning made Jenrith infantry tank, and was hauled up, his back being forced to arch over the end of the cannon, his hands and legs being tied behind him to the main barrel of it.

Fortunately, he had already been gagged by this point, so his screams of agony weren't likely to get through.

"So, red, you gonna tell us anything?" the thick western-southern (denoting the West Isle, southern portion) accent snarled.

Bravely, or perhaps stupidly, the man shook his head. A crowbar was brought out, and used to good effect.

"Anything come to mind now?"

The man nodded, his head now drooping forward, and the gag taken out.

"Some are going to attempt to...assasinate Winters tomorrow."

"Oh, really? Where're they based?"

"About 14 miles from here. Farm to the south-east."

"Well, the first bit is bull, it was tried about an hour ago. The second half though, useful. Fire."

Fortunately, it was instantaneous death. Unfortunately, the Emperor's Own Regiment would have some cleaning to do.

---The National Convention Centre, Fort Boston, Fort Boston---

Alan Sentor was most of the way through addressing the crowd at the BNP annual conference, just hours before a leadership vote. He already had his supporters in a frenzy, and was finding it easy to find many more supporters.

"Increased money for the armed forces! More money for our Intelligence networks so that the Genocide of the Royal Family the reds committed will NEVER happen again!"

"And if you should elect me leader of the BNP, I vow to bring the country to where it should stand regionally and internationally! Not followers, but doers, not waiting, but acting!

This raised a roar from the crowd

"It is therefore imperitive that I ask my rivals to stand down, so that we may follow forward with my plans immediately! I promise you that Bostopia shall show strength! Strength in leadership, leadership in Sentor!"

As Sentor raised a clenched right fist in salute of the crowd, they all stood to their feet, with many deciding to return the salute, til all in the crowd were stood with their right hand raised.

Sentor, meanwhile, stood grinning at what he was accomplishing, as many of his rivals looked at each other wondering if they really stood a chance. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they should hand him victory this instant.

"What?"

"Oh yes, all over. I hope his mom doesn't want an open casket at the funeral." Brigadier Edward Ryan said, looking up at the ceiling. "They shipped the tanks in saying they were supplies. They're not big tanks. Light tanks, really."

"Why are all of our friends insane?"

"From what I hear, they might get marginally more insane."

"That's great. At any rate, did they get some kind of useful information out of it?"

"Aye, we picked up on another target house, presumably. Where the people who shot you are, incidentally."

"Send someone in- if you have to use the Bostopians, use them in a supporting role, and for god sakes don't let them put any rounds into the bloody house before you go in, eh?"

"If they're still there. But then again, if they're stupid enough to try and shoot you through a bulletproof window, they might still be there."

"Heh, try not to get shot." Winter said.

"Heh, you too, the way it's going."

"It seems there's a frontrunner in Bostopia." The Foriegn minister said, sticking his head in the office.

"Keep an eye on it, but it's nothing we should directly say anything over. It's just not our place."

"Seems a bit nutty though."

"Everyone we talk to is a bit nutty."

"Maybe a bit is some underestimation. Freaking insane more discriptive?"

"Quite." Winter said. "At any rate, whoever it is, we'll have to work with them eventually, so there's no reason to alienate anyone by saying something now."

"Allright."

"But keep me updated, ok?"

"Naturally."

"And some breaking news for you. Alan Sentor has this morning been recognised as Prime Minister, after articles of power have found that in the absense of the Royal Family, the leader of the largest party in the Isles Parliament shall be elected Prime Minister and Head of State. Sentor is currently making his way through Suffern Palace toward the House of Subjects, debating chamber of the elected MIP's and we'll get pictures to you as soon as possible...no, we have word he's now there. Let's now cross live to the House, and to the new Prime Minister."

Alan Sentor strode into the hall onto the right hand side (shown on the left by television cameras), and stood tall behind the large table in the centre of the house. At six foot three, he would have been an imposing figure, but his voice just added to the vision people had of him.

"Honorable Members of the Isles Parliament, the Prime Minister." The speaker of the house called out.

"Thank you Mr. Speaker, thank you to all of you in attendence. As you will all be aware, I was this morning confirmed as the leader of the Bostopian National Party, and subsequently became Prime Minister through a centuries-old piece of legislation."

Members of the House nodded in approval

"However. While one piece of bureaucracy has been gotten round, one still remains. The enforced divide of the BNP and the NPB."

This brought a gasp

"While the Emperor," Sentor paused for a moment "knew what he was doing, and was acting in the best interests of Bostopia, times have now changed. The threat that was manageable up until the last moments of his lifetime has now become something else. Something that would take each and everyone of us if it could.

It would leave our wives and children for dead. It would rape the life out of our systems, our ways, our language, all replaced with politics that are complete foreign to this proud nation.

However, I have only been saying 'threat'. It should be threats. Socialism, acting as a wolf in sheep's clothing, is merely the 'tamer' side of Communism, the side that wouldn't slaughter the masses, the side which wouldn't tear the living soul out of this country!"

Many in the hall nodded in agreement, while others, those who were young and easily drawn into Sentor's ability at speechmaking and encapsulating others, were sat in fear of these 'threats'

"As such! As such! I propose that the BNP and the NPB should re-unite! This division only makes our task harder!"

A voice called from across the floor;

"But Prime Minister, who would lead the new BNP?"

"A good question. As the current BNP would make up the core, and none of you in the NPB have ever protested my leadership, I believe I shall stay as Prime Minister until a time seen fit by the party to begin a new leadership contest."

One of Sentor's primary backers called out

"I say we should hold a vote this instant!"

This was of course chorused around Parliament. The Speaker banged his gavel.

"Or-order! ORDER! Does the Prime Minister wish for a vote to be held?"

"Yes Mr. Speaker. I shall not be delaying the democratic right of the House."

"All those in favour of merging the BNP with the NPB, please go through the doors to your right, while those of you against, go through the doors to left."

Alan Sentor lead the way. Walking out of the chamber, he took a right, then was the first politician through the gate marked "P - T" (representing the surname), with his vote being recorded by hand. No-one was to walk through any of the gates on the left hand side, and once Sentor had seen this himself, he headed toward his private office.

---Meanwhile, in Casari---

Field Marshal Harold Denfeld was on the telephone.

"Support role? Prime Minister, we both know the citizenry won't take a lack of commie deaths lightly. Yes sir...yes sir. We'll have to take the opportunity at it comes then sir. We'll do our best sir. And a good evening to you, sir."

Denfeld put down the phone, then stormed out. A gridiron ball rolled toward his feet, bumping against his left boot. He eyed it up suspiciously. He saw no wires coming out of it, so he punted it high into the air in frustration, skewing the shot far sideways, hitting a soldier after it bounced off concrete. The soldier fell and landed on his side, rubbing his hip when he managed to pick himself up.

Denfeld looked guilty for a moment, then walked off trying to pretend nothing had happened. He found a group of 'tankies' stood by one of their light armoured vehicles.

"Men!"

The seven of them stiffened up.

"Sir?"

"We're off for a jolly. Remember that information we got out of the prisoner yesterday? The Casarans are acting on it and we're to go and 'support' them, though the top boss had hinted at different. You three, with me, the other four, to your vehicle, and prepare to follow my vehicle."

The men did as they were told, and soon, two engines roared into life. The lead tank set off in the direction of the hut, followed by the second (still with some blood left in areas unreachable without parts being taken off).

The two Casaran soldiers on watch spotted the Bostopian tanks headed at full tilt toward the house.

"I make that two hours and twenty three minutes from the operation being planned. You owe me three pints."

"Enough of the bet, shouldn't we be warning the Sarge?"

"Anything to change the subject. And yes."

One of the men got onto his radio.

Back in the lead tank, Denfeld was confused.

"Those blighters! They're shielding the damned house! I want to put holes in it!"

Denfeld picked up the radio.

"Hello, Casarans old chaps what what. You appear to be in the way. We're here to support, over."

"And we're here to stop you killing valuable pieces of information, over."

"Gah!...over and out"

The turret on the Bostopian tank turned, and fired a shell toward a nearby river, landing squarely in the middle of it, creating a nice boom. The tanks then turned and revved off, apparently in a huff.

"Fish for supper, then?" asked one of the Casarans.

Trooper Ari Loston was leaning out the hatch of the VC7 Cruiser Tank, yawning and watching the Bostopians go about their business 100 yards in front of them. "Damn, this is boring. Michaels, you watch for a bit." he said down the hatch.

Michaels looked back at him, wearing a pair of night observation devices. "I'm watching out the driver's porthole, just get in and sit down for a bit."

"Damn Bostopians. If they could get a thing right, they wouldn't need us sitting around and watching them."

"Why the hell do you have those on? It's like 4 in the afternoon."

"You can still see." Michaels said back.

Above them, their sergeant stuck his head in through the hatch. "How's it going in here?"

"Nothing to report, Sergeant." they said in unison. The sergeant was about to leave, before looking at them again. "Loston, come with me. Michaels, keep watch."

Loston slowly extracted himself from the tank. The Sergeant leaned close and whispered, "Follow me, and just nod along with what I say." He said, hopping off the tank and walking towards the Bostopians. Loston ran for a few steps to keep up.

"Now remember, Loston, the target building is 15680 Northeast Singer, just north of the shipyards, it's a large warehouse with a number of large shipping crates inside." he said. Nodding at some Bostopians on duty as he passed, he continued on. "We don't think they're suspecting anything, but be on the alert- we're waiting for the go code, so be ready."

Turning the corner around a building, the sergeant peeked back to see one of the soldiers run off into a barracks assigned to the regiment.

"What was that, sir?"

"Oh, the building is empty, I was there today. But this is going to be funny."

"Sir! Sir!" called a soldier running with a slight limp after getting 'hurt in combat' - or so he told his mates. He'd hit the gridiron-ball shaped bruise quite well in the showers.

"What is it?" Denfeld replied, bored out of his brains. Shooting rats with a shotgun had gotten boring once the chef in the basement level took his shells off him. And chasing rats round rooms wasn't something he fancied.

"I've just overheard some Casaris talking about a commie warehouse they're planning on destroying in a few hours!"

"WHAT-HO! Let's go do it for them. We are here to support after all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Get Squadrons A through to D ready to go, and bring a few Tank crews with you too."

"Right away sir!"

Denfeld whacked the butt of his gun onto the floor, sending a shard of wood crashing into what was tonight's supper. He decided against saying anything, but instead decided to 'jimmy do one' as he'd heard some of the men say after a night out stealing Casaran roadsigns.

About ten minutes later, they were heading to the warehouse just north of the shipyards.

"A Squadron! Get some of your men to approach the warehouse and gain access, and make sure the area is secure for advancement."

A unit of men charged toward the door, and one knocked on it, deciding to put on a comedy accent.

"Harrow New Garden! We have your order! The number ten and the ninety thwee!...Harrow!...no answer." He shot the lock off the door and charged in with the others, shouting at the top of their lungs as the place got shot up.

When the firing finally died down, they took a look around. Apart from a few spent shells, it was totally empty. The soldier got his radio out.

"Field Marshal, sir, it's empty!"

"WHAT?!? IT WAS A TRICK! AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The Field Marshal leapt into a tank, pulling the commander out and pushing a few drums of diesel (again sneaked through Casari lines) into a stowage place.

"TO TYRELLIA!"

The crewmen shrugged, and the tank burst into life, while those left tried to persuade the Field Marshal not to do anything drastic, before two other tanks started following the one occupied by the Field Marshal.

In the distance, the Casaran soldiers swore they heard "Song for the Bostopian Patriot" being played on one of the horns of the tanks.

"The Bostopians had rushed off to do something... we couldn't really tell, but there was one benefit. While the Bostopians were on the charge, we managed to take down another house, and for communist wannabe terrorists, they talk rather quickly. We think we're starting to close in on the leaders."

"That's good to hear." Winter said, watching the minister yawn. "Hopefully this whole campaign is finally getting close to an end."

"We can only hope, we have to worry about the assembly elections coming up." Winter said. "Ugh, are you hungry? Dinnertime, I suppose, I have the craving for Chinese." She said, grabbing the phone off the hook. Halfway through the order, however, some noises outside has begun to get her attention. "What the hell is that?"

'I have no idea... sounds like construction machinery."

No news from the Empire, but a secret conspiracy was beginning to stir.

The Mujeongbu was in town, and they were making plans. They were keeping a low profile, but it would be difficult for them to make any progress in town while they looked and acted like foreigners. The worst that could happen though was that they were mistaken for foreign nationals - no one would know who they were. And they weren't high officials in the first place - they were just here to ensure that things were going according to plan. So far, with the assassination attempts gone haywire, it seemed that the only way to get things done right would be to do it themselves.

They met in an apartment near the central district in Casari's capital - the whole 8 of them. They lived separately but came together on Thursday nights to gamble away at Mahjong - to give them a reason to get together while evading too much attention from the local authorities. It was this Thursday that they set about their grand plans - to assassinate the Premier. And it would be in the most inconspicuous of ways.


Kim Gang - just a regular nobody - went to a cyber cafe off the river front (or whatever front exists in Casari) to signal to his friends that the time was imminent: "Communists of Casari, unite tonight! Meet at the warehouse on 161st Street. Remember to bring a cake!" It was a decoy message, one that only the stupidest communists would heed, while those who knew what it meant would proceed with the plan. Following the message sent prompt, Kim pulled out two pistols and started killing everyone in the cyber cafe. After being assured that he had shot everyone at least once, he ran out into the street and execution style shot himself in the head, and there lied Kim Gang - a nobody, dead, and without a trace.

"Commander, the Casaran uprising has not proceeded as forseen. Casaran, along with Bostopian units are quelling every cell that arises, with speed that surprises even me. By the Empire's grace, none of our 'advisors' have been detained or eliminated. I strongly suggest we extract all Zakuvian elements from Casari, at least until this crackdown is put to rest."

His liquor tasted horrible whenever he had to think, Commander Gestallin thought dully. It was his monthly indulgence, and this upstart had the brass to interrupt him? However, the man did have something important, so he put down his drink and rubbed his eyes. The Zakuvian Empire had a large stake in Casari, and he didn't want it pulled out so close to victory.

"I want all of our 'foreign advisors' to stop 'advising'. I want them back into civilian centers with new identities, get them out as soon as they have access to Casaran public transportation. If they find out about this, I want both full deniability and, perhaps, some PR opportunities if they pick our people up in public places. If we stir up enough public support through the detention or assassination of 'Innocent Zakuvian tourists', we might be able to get the rest of the Allied Socialists nations to support us in a counterattack. But, god willing, it won't come to that. If I had my choice, this whole mess would just blow away. I can't see what the Emperor and the High Lords see in that country."

"And what of the Bostopians?"

"They're a rowdy band of hooligans I wouldn't trust with a flash-pistol, but I think we should remain neutral towards them. Keep them in the dark about our operations in Casari. For some reason, my gut instincts as a military leader think they were a little too eager in sending military forces to Casari. Hell!" he said with a rumbling laugh, "for all those Casarans know, the Bostopians are there to sneak there way in and invade!" He lifted his glass, realising the futility of the gesture, he slammed back the burning liquid and sent the glass crashing to the floor. "Here's hoping though...For the Empire." The Intelligence Officer, however, still stood his ground. The Commander's brow furrowed. "What else, man?"

"We will need to inform the Emperor of this development...this was one of his pet projects after all." The Commander simply smiled.

"Yes, yes you will need to tell him, won't you?" He squeezed his eyes closed, realising his mistake in not being specific. Bowing only as low as was required, he left the room.

MINUTES LATER

Damn the Casarans, the Emperor thought. So blind to the truth, and so quick to judge. The moment their people hear the truth of socialism, their government slips the poisonous venom of Communism into the mix. As much as he despised the short-sightedness of the Casarans, he did admire their ability to wrangle support for their misguided cause. If he had had Scriveners that efficient, the Reunification would have taken a day, he thought with a bit of a smirk. Then again, he thought while losing that smirk, perhaps the Casarans are simply as ignorant as they say they are. In any case, Zakuvia didn't want to be part of the Casaran Revolution as the papers called it, so his public stance was that the Empire wouldn't.

In truth, however, the Empire...wouldn't. There would be no Imperialises flying in Casari, not one Baneblade would rumble Casaran ground, and no Musai would offend its shores. A thought, however, an idea was more powerful than the greatest Ordinatus the Mechanicum could design. The Empire would secretly send instigators. Indeed, it had sent a number of orators and scribes into Casari to speak the truth, to act as an anti-venom to their governments falsehoods. Now, however, with their army, bolstered by the Casari lapdogs from Bostopia were routing the revolutionaries by force. His hands were tied; no Zakuvian blood could be spilled without the peoples consent. He was Emperor, but not dictator.

Field Marshal Denfelds tank slowed to a halt outside of the Governmental centre on the corner of P and 34th, being trailed by two Bostopian tanks and a string of police cars, who had long before decided against the P-I-T manouver.

Denfeld pushed open the hatch on the tank, looked at the police cars, and then marched toward the Government centre, looking at the doormam, and then asking the directions to Premier Winter's secretary, while waving an envelope in his face.

A few minutes later, he reappeared, and walked out toward the tanks. However, a shout came out from a tank, and he took a slight right, tore a road sign down (parking outside these buildings was now legal, apparently) and then headed back toward the tank, clambering in, and then driving off, with the chain of tanks and police cars once again following them.

"I didn't know the PM of Bostopia had that kind of power already." Foriegn Minister Eric Neumar said, reading the message sent to Winter.

"Well, it couldn't be the worst thing to ever happen. I mean, I only have to meet with this guy, I suppose." Winter replied, looking over a list sitting on the table. "Besides, I could always use a vacation. Things around here are getting a bit hot."

"That's true." Neumar said, leaning back in the chair. "Should I get on the preperations?"

"Yes, please. Make them quietly, too. We don't want to be too predictable, after all." Winter said, standing and streching. "A military plane, ideally. Have a few put under guard- we'll pick one the day of to take, just to make sure nobody gets to one."

"Seems adequate enough."

"Oh, Eric, something else. My list of nominations had to be submitted today in order to get them all approved before the elections. So, failing anything unexpected, of course, you're in line for the position of Governor-General.*"

Neuman blinked a few times. "Um... thank you, ma'am."

"So, of course, part of your training will be to come along and deal with any insane Bostopians. Have that useless prick Elisar told that he needs to keep up appearances during my absences, and encourage him not to get shot as well. You can never tell with that man."

"Will do." Neuman said, standing up. "That all?"

Winter turned and looked out the window, the glass already replaced from the attempted assassination the other day. "... move my office. Someplace a bit more secure. And the metal detectors are up on the entrances, right?"

"You can't get within a block of the building without being strip searched at this point."

"Good. Yeah, that's it." Winter said, frowning.

"Yes, Premier."

---

"This wasn't a normal whackjob shooting." the detective said, looking at one of the victims.

The police captain stood over him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he sent out a warning to a bunch of communists, made no effort to cover his tracks, and then shot the place up, as far as we can tell. It's probably the most ineptly done thing I've ever seen."

"Message?"

"Yes, an e-mail. Not even a real address, sadly, so I don't know who he was warning."

"Code, possibly?"

"It'd have to be." The detective replied, standing up.

"What about the shooter?" the captain asked, looking out the door.

"Well, half his face is missing. We're trying to piece something together with dental records and somesuch, but he sure as hell isn't Casaran."

"How do you know?"

"Skin tone, structure of what's left of his face. Nothing you'd see on anyone of Karin descent. Oriental, maybe, would be my guess."

The captain sighed. "We'll have to call in the feds on this. Save everything- keep the cleaners out." The captain said.

* The position of Governor-General is essentially the second-in-command of the nation, and the person by far most likely to rise to the position of Premier in the case of Winter's death.

In the meeting of the top staff of the Bostopian Government, the Foreign Minister was called upon to say his piece.

"Biggest news I have so far for yourself and the cabinet, Prime Minister, is that Premier Winter is coming."

The Prime Minister mulled it over, his young face frowning slightly.

"The situation should never have gotten this bad, but it is better to act now than to let things get worse."

"Furthermore, PM, there has been a terrorist attack carried out by the reds in Casari."

The PM's ears would have pricked up had he not been listening intently, terrorism was a buzzword he liked to throw into his weekly broadcast to the nation.

"Yes, I am aware something happened, but do fill me in further."

"Well, a red sent what's likely a coded message to other reds in Casari to rise up, before pulling a gun on the Casarans in the "cyber-café" and then himself. We know that at least a dozen were killed."

"Damnit! We can't tolerate this!"

"Yes, sir. Our tank crews rolled past a few hours after the event and they said it was horrible, some openly weeped."

"Tank crews?"

"Yes, it was they who delived your message to Premier Winter, sir."

"Right. I'll make a broadcast aimed at the Casaran people shortly, espressing my sorrow for the event, and telling them that the Bostopian people hold the relatives of those killed and injured in their sincerest thoughts. I'll make sure that the Casaran people know that we have absolutely no motive to be there but for the protection of democracy and free peoples from the scourge of terrorism and red forces."

Those around the table nodded their approval

"Fenn, how prepared are those guarded our ports for monitoring of entries?"

Neil Fenn, the Minister for the Home Guard stood up. This was a newly created post that the Bostopian peoples were not aware of.

"PM, you know as well as I do that we have continuous monitoring of all ports, both sea and air, we're completely prepared."

"Daniel, what was the ethnicity of the terrorist?" The PM questioned the Foreign Secretary.

"The Casarans have used the term 'Oriental', PM, but we'd simply say 'Han'."

"Thank you. Neil, do you think your men could root out anyone looking Han?"

"You mean ethnic profiling?!?"

"Of course, why, does it offend you? Do you sympathise with the red views, Home Guard Secretary?"

"NEVER! Prime Minister, I am appaled you would even suggest I would side with those treacherous views! Why on earth would I go against my own peoples and countryfolk?" Veins on his neck and head were now very much visable, as he took a drink, slamming the glass back down on the table. After a moment, he regained his composure. "Sorry PM, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"I'd have said nearly the same, should I have been in your position. I am thankful you gave me a reaction straight from the heart rather than a pre-rehearsed speech. I take it the order will be passed on for me?"

"Of course, PM. Though I must warn you some may have slipped into the country beforehand, on tourist visas and what-have-you."

"I understand that completely. I'm sure the Home Secretary will have the police straight onto that issue, though. Monitoring of anyone who looks even slightly Han, and arrest on the spot if they act even slightly suspiciously, scouting potential locations for my meeting with Ms. Winter."

The Home Secretary, Kyle Peters nodded his approval.

"That should be no problem, PM. Also, I'd like to speak with you in private after this meeting regarding a potential answer to the problem we're having with the red threat."

"Of course, Mr. Peters. And now onto our next business, the turmoil in Liverpool England..."

The same dungeon office somewhere in Hangyeong

The Duke's office was open as a rush of intelligence officers stormed in the door.

"There's been an incident in Casari!" they all yelled nearly simultaneously. Duke Weon took out a pistol and slapped the butt on his desk. Having restored order, he calmly asked the first person in line to tell him the story.

"Duke Weon, we have received confirmation that an ethnic Han was killed in Casari today."

"Who killed him?"

"He did."

"Who's he?"

"Him."

"Who's him?"

"The person."

"Which person? You have to be more specific."

"The Han."

Duke Weon shook his head. "Are you saying that it was a suicide?"

"Yes. Well, maybe."

"Next!"

The officer went away, and the next officer was more precise in his language. "The Mujeongbu has already infiltrated a great number of countries in the world, in the hopes of inciting a global revolution. A message was sent from a computer in Casari, just before the shooting incident, in which a suspect Mujeongbu pawn killed 14 people in a cyber cafe before killing himself in the street."

Duke Weon, pleased with the precision and directness of the language, nodded. "It sounds like the Mujeongbu alright. What was the message?"

"Cryptic. Only stupid people would heed it."

"That means something foul is afoot. I want you to trace all of the addresses on the receivers list, and a list of countries that have had access on those addresses recently. We need to warn them of this."

"What about surprise, Duke?"

Duke Weon shook his head. "The Mujeongbu have already struck. I think surprise is no longer an element worth keeping."

===

Casari, some federal building:

A man of Oriental descent walks into the building with a huge duffel bag. The guards nearby seem ready to pounce on him, but lacking knowledge that a Han man killed himself earlier after sending the message, they did nothing significant other than watch him carefully - biggest mistake. The man put the duffel bag in the X-ray booth, to let it pass for a scan. Just before it passes under the radar, he slips a pill into his mouth, collapsing almost immediately on the floor. The guards, having already sensed some problem, rush to help the man back to his feet, unaware that the bomb inside the bag is about to explode...

===

Casari, some subway:

A man of Oriental descent walks into the subway terminal. He is carrying a walking stick, apparently blind. He makes his way to the subway, after passing through the security check. Once on the subway, he sits down near the center of the train. The people next to him are unwary of the consequences of his actions, as he pulled up his stick and touches the bottom. Hidden at the bottom was a glass vial so small that it seemed to be a part of the stick itself. Unknown to the people around him, this was a vial of a highly lethal strain of a VHF - a strain with a short incubation period and simple transmission by touch. The man broke the vial incidentally, as he tipped the cane back down to the ground, just as he took a pill. Seconds later, he collapsed to the ground, and a great number of people surrounded him, wondering what was happening. It was too late to stop the events of the next few weeks.

(ooc: I hope that no one takes this as godmoddish - otherwise, I will edit it; if it's alright, I've got more attacks in the making)

"Well, let's hope the place is no worse off when we get back." Winter said, climbing up the steps onto the plane. "I always hared flying."

"What could happen?" Neumar said, watching the Premier's guards push her onto the plane, glancing for any threats. "In this brave new world, hmm?"

Oh, the folly.

The first reports came over the radio of one of the bodyguards. "Wait, what?" Winter said, shifting in her seat as the bodyguard decoded the verbal code of the message. While a bomb going off is a stressful occasion, of course, it's not worth breaking off a critical trip to a friendly nation.

However, a hospital report of Hemorrhagic Fever, there was no way to talk Winter down.

A broken seat later, Winter was pacing the aisle as someone dug a satellite phone out of the closet. It took a few more minutes to get a connection, and one and a third seconds for Winter to start yelling.

"Elisar, you useless twit, what are you doing to my country! What's the situation!"

Air Elisar, leader of the mostly nonexistent Labor party and one of the prime candidates for a governorship, was on the other end of the phone. "I'm on top of the situation!"

"The only thing you're on top of is probably MY FUCKING CHAIR. You will get out of it and you will listen to these three things I am going to tell you. You will run the country in accordance with these three rules. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Elisar sighed. "Yes, Premier."

"One. No one comes in. No one goes out. I don't care if they're the whole damn UN or some poor bastard hauling garbage out of Milchama. No one enters the country, no one leaves the country, until I tell you otherwise."

"Understood."

"Two. Any foreigner has 48 hours to surrender themselves to police. When Friday comes, if you spot someone on the street that doesn't look Casaran, they get arrested. That's if the Bostopians don't find them, of course..." Winter bit her lip and sighed. "Tell the Field Marshall we need his help on this. Tell him to collect us anyone who doesn't look like they belong."

"Is that wise, Premier?"

"Let's be honest- they're far better than we are at this."

"For all it's worth, I agree."

"Three. Keep people indoors as much as possible. Citizens in the cities are to be off the streets as much as possible. Cancel Soccer, cancel all the other sports, cancel school. If people are not paying attention, arrest people who disagree. Identification and proof of citizenship is mandatory to be in public. Close mass transit. Release a statement that people should try to avoid going out. If they're using biological weapons, make sure the hospitals are staffed... If there's a medical emergency... where's a cabinet meeting when you need it? It's up to you to establish a quarentine policy with the Health Ministry."

"Traffic control checkpoints?..."

Winter sighed again. "... we'd never get all the entries into these damn cities. If you find it critical, and if it gets bad, do it. I hate to say it, but we're past the point of no return on this flight- we have a one way ticket to Bostopia. You are the man on the ground. You'll have to make the statement to the public. Just remember- no one comes in, no one goes out, and no foreign nationals are walking the streets."

"Understood, Premier... and good luck in Bostopia."

"We can only hope, this day is rapidly going to shit." Winter said, hanging up.

Neuman stared at the carpet in front of him. "Brave new world."

Winter stared at him. "This isn't the time to space out on me, Neuman. I need all the help I can get..." Glancing at the guards, she frowned. "We know the plane is safe, correct?"

The bodyguards nodded. "Everything deemed non-critical was thrown off the plane."

"What was deemed non-critical?"

"... a first aid kit... the phone... and the fuel."

"Wait, wait. ALL that's on the plane right now is us, the pilots, a first aid kit, and this damn phone."

"Yes, ma'am." The guard said, nodding.

"... you found it necessary to throw my clothes off the plane?"

"... it was for your safely, ma'am." The guards said, glancing at one another.

Winter sank into a seat and held her head. "If this plane crashes, I'm resigning."

"We're fairly sure it won't, ma'am."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence."

Sometime after the first attacks

A man was walking down the streets in Casari, aware of the calamitous events that had occurred, and was hurrying home. It wasn't long before a crowd of angry Casarans stopped him in the middle of his efforts, and began to harrass him. They had the tools to lynch the poor fellow, just as a random car was a rolling by. It stopped in front of the crowd, and with a despicable smile, the driver (also Oriental) pressed on the horn of the car - releasing the trigger for a massive bomb underneath the car - he was instantly vaporized, including the few people nearby. And because it was a car bomb, the various parts flew in every direction violently.

===

Suddenly, the dungeon office of Duke Weon was filled with a flurry of activity. He called for Count Yu and noted with much displeasure at the failure that has happened. They were alone in the room (although a number of officers decided to peep on the conversation through the door - it wasn't as if they needed to do that).

"Because of your inept inquiry, we're now in the middle of the mess! Just exactly how will the Han stand up to such barbaric attacks as these, if we look and act just like these people? We'll be lauded as the haven of terrorists! What in Heaven would ever want this upon us?"

Count Yu was quick to defend himself. "Well, it's not like we're looking at the most intelligent of people. The Casaran government invited the Bostopians into their country, and they found nothing."

"You and I know the Mujeongbu - they don't do like terrorists, they do like people. They want you to fear everyone and anyone. Your next door neighbor could be a terrorist! Your boss could be a terrorist! Your best friend's cousins puppy dog's collar could be a terrorist! Heck, your house could be a terrorist! They want us to believe that anyone is a terrorist and that everyone is a terrorist. They go looking like average people and start seeking out the people they meet. The random idea, that the next person you meet could kill you, is very powerful. It's why we don't want it to return to us."

"Duke Weon, I should note that it's not very hard for the Casarans to distinguish the Han from themselves."

"But are the Mujeongbu the only Han there? No. There are others - not terrorists. Some, even our own citizens! Have you considered that? My God. Let's just hope that this doesn't get any more international than what it already has become. And has anyone figured out just actually how addresses were on that thing?"

Count Yu nodded. "Only one."

"Which one?"

"Yours."

"WHAT?" Duke Weon frantically looked back to his email inbox - 'You have 5201 new messages!' Instantaneously, the entire building went dark. A clamor went around, as people rushed about in the darkness. Luckily, Duke Weon had a flashlight and turned it on. Malicious software...

"Count Yu - I want you to figure out just exactly how much power was shut down, and who made that code. Because of your stupid letter, we're in this mess. And there's only one way to fix it."

"Tell the world?" Count Yu replied, somewhat anxious.

"Yes... once the power comes back on..."

The Prime Minister watched two girls walk past the window of his office. He was unmarried, though his girlfriend would probably not appreciate his looking at two younger girls. He was interrupted by Mark Jansen, one of the intelligence staff at 7 Roxfeld Street, home of the Prime Minister.

"PM, Premier Winter's plane is about 6 hours away from the co-ordinates we gave them."

The PM took heed of the news, and began to make calculations.

"It'll take us 4 hours to fly there from here in Fort Boston, but it'll likely take us a half hour to get there, even with the private sliproad onto the lower-ring road."

"At what time shall I tell security staff to prepare for coverage here?"

"Half hour, Mark. And then the MBCC should be ready for our arrival three and three quarter hours from our take off time, incase the winds are blowing in the right direction."

"Yes, Prime Minister."

The Prime Minister spent the next half hour gathering what papers he thought were necessary, not that there were many, and then selecting a gift for the Premier from the Bostopian people. Walking into the gift-room, he selected a sculpted figurine of the mythical East (Isle) Bostopian hero, Fenraer, who was said to have defeated an invading army from the West with only 6 of his most loyal men.

Mark came back into the room.

"The car is ready, sir."

The PM nodded, and made his way toward where the security cars were waiting. After getting in, the car set off through the security-gated area into the private slip road down onto the lower ring road, so called because it was underground, rather than ruin the Fort Boston skyline with another overland road.

After a short journey, the cars arrived at the airport, and the PM was driven up to his private jet, which took off moments later, on a heading for a four hour flight toward West Isle, and the Mount Bostopia Command Centre, the most heavily fortified area in the country.

While on the plane, Kyle Peters was talking with the PM.

"Sir, the Casaran plan for us to capture and hold anyone looking even slightly Han would do us much good in our own affairs in our red problem."

"I understand what you are saying exactly, Mr. Peters. I shall have to discuss with Ms. Winter what plans she has."

A few hours later, the plane landed a few minutes ahead of time, though the area was still prepared for Ms. Winters arrival.

The plane taxied into the hanger constructed just outside of the Mountain, and the heavy, five layered blast doors closed behind it.

The Prime Minister stepped out of the plane, breathing the heavily filtered air.

"Welcome to the MBCC, Prime Minister. Premier Winter is currently an hour away, but we have everything out already for her arrival."

"Except?"

"Well, except for items that should be kept chilled, sir."

"Good. Let us now prepare for the Premier's arrival. Our band has practiced the Casaran anthem?"

"Of course, would you like to hear it?"

"No, national anthems should not be played so soon to an official visit to pleasure just one person. But, let us do one final tour of the building to check it is secure. Make sure I am kept updated on any developments."

The plane was taxiing across the runway in Bostopia, and Winter was considerably nervous. On top of things going down to a significant amount, Winter's policy of dressing comfortably to travel left her with a Carlisle College sweatshirt, a t-shirt, and pants, thanks to the overzealous protection of the 17th Colonial Rifles Regiment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She muttered herself, staring at the roof of the cabin. "Are we actually this bad at running the country?" She said to Neuman, who was still wearing a business suit and looking much more of a national leader than Winter.

"I like to think we do quite a good job. Don't focus on that, or the fact that you look like a tool, for that matter."

Winter sighed, seeming older than she did just months before. "Are we parked yet? This is taking bloody forever."

"It'll be a little bit still, ma'am."

"Damn." she said, closing her eyes and leaning back in the seat. "I hate flying, did you know that?"

"Quite acutely, actually."

I need a drink of water." She muttered, a guard quickly disappearing into the back and coming out again, holding out a cup. Winter quickly swallowed the contents and took a deep breath. "Ugh, I need to calm down before making a fool of myself."

"Well, making a fool of yourself might help break the ice." Neuman said, streching and yawning."

Winter tapped her foot impatiently. "Ready yet?"

"Just pulling up to the spot now, ma'am." A guard said, just as the whine of the engines wound down. Pushing bodyguards out of the way, she moved to the door and peeked out the window.

"The escape slide thing isn't going to go if I open this, right?" She said, glancing back at the other passengers. "You know, to hell if it does." she mumbled, pushing the door open and walking down the staircase that had been moved up.

Looking down at herself, she shrugged as the rest of the travelling party climbed down the steps after her. "I might not look like it, but I believe I have an invitation?"

"Rather dressed-down for a world leader," Sentor thought "still, must be a good reason for it."

As Premier Winter reached the bottom of the steps, the band struck up the Casaran anthem, and then the Bostopian anthem, with Sentor shedding a token tear. Quite what that unbridled show of patriotism did for Premier Winter, Sentor wouldn't be sure, but he did think it best to show that he had some respect for his country, hoping she'd think he respected hers as well.

Which, to be fair, he did, he wouldn't have bothered keeping the best, if not the most..."flexible with details"...troops Bostopia had in a foreign nation.

As Premier Winter approached, he greeted her with a warm handshake, making the presentation of the sculpted figure, something she appeared to accept warmly, then handed to an aid for safekeeping.

They made some small talk on the MBCC, carved from the great Mount Bostopia and re-enforced with more blast doors, minefields, barbed wire, electrically charged barbed wire, more minefields and attack dogs than you could imagine. Not to mention a couple batallions of men.

Sentor showed Premier Winter and her staff to their quarters, kitted out much better than you'd expect for, well, a man-made mountain cave, and then left them to their business.

Kyle Peters, the Home Secretary, walked into Sentor's office where he was preparing for a meeting with Premier Winter.

"PM, we've got a situation."

"Yes, I'll tell Winter we'll pay for the roadsigns as soon as-"

"No Alan, it's in Fort Boston."

He stood bolt upright.

"Explain."

"Some Casaran 'protestors' have decided to make camp on Half-Lake Island."

The Prime Minister frowned, while it wasn't the biggest island in the lake, it ranked well up there.

"Publicity would be widespread." He thought.

Half-Lake Island is one of the islands in Grenning Lake, which was the centre-piece of Fort Boston Park, served by the Ranton River. It was deep enough to get the CSBS Geesemonkey, the Navy's flagship up the middle of, though there were areas of the lake very suitable for bathing, as the Prime Minister knew from his youth.

"How did they get across?"

"Did you see that workshop on how to build canoes?"

"Yes. Don't tell me, they did too."

"Yes, sir. Though it's a credit to their ability to drag a raft behind them."

"It gets worse. So, are they a security threat?"

"Not really, they just seem to have a few tents and some "PEACE" placards, though they'd quickly become a noisy distraction, some of our foreign "friends" would likely give them airtime on channels broadcasted into Bostopia."

"Ok let's do this. Kick them off the island, but then let them get back on because we let security lapse a little, or something silly like that. Then, let's take our time dealing with that new crisis. Let them say some things that could possibly be taken out of context, then when we deal with it, we'll do it professionally, and hopefully with some justification."

"Well, there is a force in the area who could take some action this instant."

"Who would that be? Surely we wouldn't have that many divertable troops in Fort Boston."

"You'd be surprised, PM. You know the Armed Forces, they tend to keep politics away until they need a budget rise."

"True. So who is there?"

"The Oliverrians, currently on training."

"Good for foreign relations."

"Very true, could heal some wounds between us. Still haven't figured out how they developed. Then again, they might not want to get involved."

"Honestly, I have no idea either. I'll put a word into the Oliverrian leadership, see if they want to succesfully re-take an island for us. Hey, I might throw in the offer of the island becoming "Oliverrian territory" to tempt them. That'd give them some bragging rights, having successfully "invaded Bostopia." It'd be in the history books for years."

"I have no doubts about that, PM. If you'll excuse me, I have to go sort out some parking fines that have just come in from Casari."

"A bit stuffy, aren't they?" Winter said, sitting in a chair and balancing on the back legs.

"Meh, you know some countries, they love their traditions." Neuman replied, staring at the light up in the ceiling. "How hard to you think it was to carve all of this out of the mountain?"

"I mean, I didn't know we were giving gifts. It's not like we can get them anything now."

"I wouldn't worry about it." Neuman said.

"Any breaking news?"

"No, not yet. We have a guy on the phone in case another call comes through, though."

"That's good... we have the bill for the street signs, right?"

"Yes. we forwarded it to them before we left."

"Good, good. I don't suppose it would be too much to ask to be able to pop off to the nearest town and get some clothes before the meeting?"

"From what I understand, our ability to get to town is slightly limited by the fact that there's not a damn town in the whole state."

"Wait, what?"

"Aye, there's this mountain, and... yeah, that's about it."

"This is fan-tastic. Remind me to fire the head of security when we get home. Thinking my damn suitcase would have a bomb in it. I packed it this morning. It was in my sight literally for the entire day." Winter sighed. "It's days like this that get people stabbed."

"An aspect of your hooligan youth coming back to haunt you?"

"Quite possibly." Winter said. "Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly got stabbed in an alley in Shelby that one time?"

"Yes, Winter. Anyway, you should probably be focusing on the meetings."

"Why, when are we supposed to meet?"

"About four minutes." Neuman said.

"Oh... ohhh. Oh, yeah, right." Winter said, frowning. "So much for popping off for a pint, hmm?"

161st Street Warehouse - sometime laterIt was The Mujeongbu were carefully plotting their future actions, and as they went about their daily business, they brought in the head leaders, each carrying a piece of cake. They sat around in a large table, adorned with famous ornaments of the Mujeongbu ideology, and they began descirbing the success of their attacks so far.

"Chairman Kim - what news do you have?"

"Well..."
"Our attack..."
"Going off..."

The three voices stopped simultaneously. The man spoke again. "Chairman Kim from Gwangju."

"Well..."
"Our attack..."
"Going off..."

The three voices stopped again. The man spoke again. "Just exactly what did you guys do in Gwangju? Anyways... the Chairman of whoever planned the biological attack in the subway. How was the attack?"

"It was an absolutely astounding success. People in Casari are now afraid to walk out of their houses for fear of contracting VHF. Indeed, they have a great fear of burning asses and sitting on the toilet. There is no rest for the people, as they will come to embrace the idea that their government is not protecting and therefore they must fend for themselves against everyone and anyone. Order follow, and we will be victorious."

"How many people were made sick?"

"Our conservative estimates suggest that at 50 people were sick. Of the original members who got sick, 10 have died."

"Excellent. The person who coordinated the Cafe attack. What was the progress of this project?"

"It was superb. The man did precisely as he was told, and even now, the Han authorities are resting under dark skies as a worm has destroyed their information network for at least the next three days. He killed at least 14 people before shooting himself."

"Brilliant. And the Chairman of the Suitcase attack."

"Well. It wasn't as successful."

"Why?"

"Well, we had loaded the Premier's suitcase full of plastics and programmed it to explode once the suitcase reached an elevation of 10,000 meters."

"Yes? Did the plane reach that elevation?"

"Yes, but the suitcase wasn't there."

"Are you certain that you got the Premier's suitcase? I mean, suitcases all look alike."

"We have reason to believe that members of the Premier's personal guard discovered the bomb and threw the suitcase out of the plane. The suitcase never had a chance to succeed."

Whispers flew across the table - "Maybe they're on to us?..." and "Could they really be that smart?" The Chairman of the attack was sweating slightly, wondering if this failure would set back the rest of the plans. But the man at the top of the round table seemed unconcerned. "Well, I suppose it's time for plan B. Are the assassins in Bostopia ready?"

"We must notify them of the change, but they can be made ready soon."

"Make it discreet. If the Bostopians think that something's going to happen, Hell, maybe they'll do something stupid themselves and kill the Premier for us. I mean, you can't beat the stupidity of these people. After all, it was a Casaran who tried to shoot through bulletproof glass to kill the Premier. And that's the last time we use Casarans to do our job right."

Nods all circled the table.

"Well, enough about the suitcase. What about the Chairman for the attack on Federal Buildings?"

"We currently have one project active at the moment. They're waiting for the opportune moment. The other two projects were mixed in their success. One of the targets was successful, as it blew up a major Federal facility in Casari, while the other attack merely stopped in the middle of the road and blew up a bunch of tourists."

"Well. The effect is the same. At least he didn't have a suitcase."

A little laughter erupted. By that time, it was time to eat cake.

==============

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd of Casarans on some island in Bostopia

'Damn, this mask is getting too hot. And there's too many people here. Why on earth did they choose this God-forsaken island? There's no way off of it.'

It was the last thoughts of Gam Chanchan - who was wearing a ski-mask to avoid being noticed by the Casaran rally. He was holding a "PEACE" placard like the countless thousands others around him, with the sole exception that he was carrying explosives in his vest. Suddenly, his cell phone rang.

"Yah?"

"Chanchan - we've got a change in plans. You're not going to blow yourself up."

"Yah?"

"You're going to shoot the Premier of Casari on a trip to Bostopia."

"I though she wasn't coming."

"Well, there was a change of plans. You need to change your plan now."

"But I don't a good gun."

"Get one."

"It's going to be hard. Why can't I just blow myself up with her?"

"Too risky. Besides, the Bostopians would have you from a hundred yards out."

"Why not throw the bomb at her?"

"Too risky still. Trust me, you need a gun."

"Yah... Can't someone else do this? I'd rather just blow myself up; it's much simpler."

"You're the only one on site that can do the job."

"But I have to go back off-site to get a gun."

"Hmm.... good point. I will notify the Chairman of this development, and hopefully we can get someone else there soon."

"Yah. Good luck."

Gam hung up the phone, forgetting that the phone was his trigger, and that by hanging up the phone, he had inadvertently triggered the bomb in his vest, launching a blast of ball bearings and flesh out in every direction in the middle of the Casaran protests.

(ooc: if any of this godmoddish, please let me know and I will edit it out for good spirit; hopefully, it's all good though.)

No one really expected them to actually say where their meeting was in an e-mail. No one was that stupid, right? And even more so- nobody was stupid enough to waste actual resources on such an empty lead, right?

Well, stupid, thy name is Casari.

With most of the businesses in Casari calling a week off, traffic in the empty industrial areas of Casari were next to nil. So the four-man observation team that had been set up in a pair of arbitrary buildings around the target site were informed that any action- any kind whatsoever- must be reported.

Like any good Casarans, they were extremely pissed about being out on a day when everyone else was home. So what if there were terrorists- a day off was a day off. So after calling in a few rats scurrying in an alley just to spite the controllers, they nearly didn't call in a car driving down the street and turning next to the target building.

But they were at work, and everyone else was at home. So they took the pictures, they sent them off, and yawned. Spite was very powerful.

---

The phone calls went fast and furious. Civil Protection Chief to the Elisar. Elisar to General Dawson. General Dawson to Brigadier Ryan.

And Brigadier Ryan to Field Marshal Denfield.

"Field Marshal, we found you some reds. You will spearhead this operation." Ryan said. "We are moving on target zone kilo immediate. All the assets we can bring into town will be on support and encirclement and air observation of the building is in place. What can you bring to bear?"

The Field Marshal nodded. "Everything."

"Other than two Casari Police officers two blocks away, there should be no one else in the zone. Field Marshal, do what you guys do."

The Field Marshal hung up the phone. They may have jumped it on the last one, but that was based (just a bit) on shoddy information. And after the last few days, there was no reason to try it again.

Running towards the tanks present, he yelled what had slowly and gradually become the motto of the deployment.

"Jimmy do one, Lads!"

The plane was already in the air, turning long, low circles over the port district, a trio of IR cameras lighting up anything that there was to be seen. A pair of the little Casaran CS3 Scout/Observation helicopters were winding up to join them.

The Field Marshal looked around as the Emperor's own rushed headlong into the night air, into the warehouse district.

There was at least going to be a hell of a good chase today.

((Due to minimal accessibility on the part of a few people, this will probably be the last thing on my part showing up in this thread for the remainder of the weekend- I'm a bit stupid like that :p))

The Prime Minister, understandably, was upset. A suicide bomb had gone off in Fort Boston Park a couple days ago, and, while not having answers how people managed to get the sort of equipment required into or around the country without being detected, however he now had an ethnic minority to pick on following DNA testing.

"HAN!" He yelled at the top of his voice, "didn't we do a damned clampdown on these 'people'?" He even used his hands to make furthur his point.

"Yes Prime Minister," Peters began, "but the evidence shows the suspect was wearing a mask so that he could blend in."

The PM looked around his cabinet.

"We need to take action now that we know what we know. The Emperor's Own -"

"PM, about those. They wish to complain that General Danfeld used the term "Jimmy do one, lads!" at completely the wrong time. They say it should be used when running away, or something like that, and not at a time he used it, which was when running to their tanks."

The PM looked at the Minister for Defense, Stefan Kitchforth, and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Right, I'll have a word. Back to where I was. The Emperor's Own Regiment successfully routed out a red building in Casari, with support from the Casaran army the other day, and took adequate revenge for the suicide bombings. I am aware we're not yet sure of any red connection, but the Emperor's Own do their job well. That is how we take action on the military side, and now we have to do our job as the civil side."

The men around the table nodded in agreement.

"What the plan will be is that anyone currently in the country on a tourist visa will be, well, asked kindly to depart immediately. Immigrants will be heavily monitored. Except for citizens of Casari. These people will be told that we fear that some form of chemical or biological attack may have been used in the suicide attack and they should proceed to the nearest hospital immediately. While we run "routine tests", we will also be having police officers there questioning them if they saw anything suspicious regarding the attack."

"And Premier Winter will be fine with that?" Henrik, the Foreign Secretary asked.

"She'll be perfectly happy. After all, it's just a check to make sure her citizens are safe."

"Understandable."

"Oh, and orders have been given to the police forces that until we get some answers from the people in charge in Daehanjeiguk, they can shoot on sight any Han they suspect is acting suspiciously. Meeting over."

The PM walked out of the room, while the rest of their cabinet picked up their belongings, perfectly content at the meetings developments.

"Ah, Daniel." The PM called.

"Yes, PM?"

"I need you to get in contact with those sods in Daehanjeiguk, and tell them to get moving, and get moving now, because we want an explanation, and a promise that nothing like this will be allowed to happen again."

Henrik nodded and headed off to his office to write a formal letter, and make a phone call using less-than-diplomatic-language to whoever he found was in charge in Daehanjeiguk.

(having read Casari's TG, I was going to edit my response... but seeing as Bostopia has played on, I'll wait and see. In the meantime, feel free to RP anything pertaining to future HAN attacks (lest we forget that it is the Mujeongbu...). If I feel a need to intervene, I will - seeing as this RP is already set on fire. also - if you want to talk to the Han Empire, just wait until I get the electricity back on the Han offices)

"You know, soon there's going to be random bombs going off trying to catch expats squatting in houses all over the world." Winter said. "Don't these people have far better things to do?"

"You know if they did, they wouldn't be as pathetic as they are now." Neuman said as they walked down the hall. "Anyone who had an actual life wouldn't focus on these kinds of things."

Following the guide through the subterranean maze, and followed by a few of Winter's own guards. "At any rate, I suppose we at least have a bit more common ground, eh?"

"That definitely can't hurt. Particularly with the warehouse raid that just went down, and the fact that you're not going to be able to get into either country."

"Elisar did his bloody job for once, that's good to see." Winter said, turning another corner. "You know, I bet the meeting room is next door and they're just walking us around to confuse us."

"That's a bit pessimistic."

"Aye, but possibly true."

"Well, they could also be a nation of vampires, but it's not bloody likely." Neuman said.

The guide opened a door and nodded, motioning the Premier inside. Nodding back in thanks, Winter walked inside, Neuman a step behind.

Prime Minister Sentor sat on one side of a long table, with what appeared to be various subordinate officials on either side. Winter sat down opposite him, suddenly conscious again about her improper attire, and frowned. "Hello once again, Prime Minister, I have to apologize about my attire- it seems there was a bomb in my luggage that necessitated it be thrown off the plane into the ocean. You can understand how these things work."

Sentor nodded. "Of course, to business?"

Winter nodded and lifted the glass of water set in front of her. "To business!" A moment of silence lasted before she shrugged, took a drink, and sat it down again.

Neuman covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. "Anyplace where you care to start, Prime Minister?"

With the electricity back on, the Emperor having been briefed already about what was going on, and a bunch of angry letters from around the world about the "Han" conspiracy, Duke Weon felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could imagine how he could justify keeping Count Yu around, despite his years of valiant service domestically. Obviously, Count Yu was a great go-to person inside the Empire; but what about outside the Empire? There was a wide world there - not too many people thought alike about things, and it would be even harder to find people who agreed about other things. He went to Count Han, of the Academy of Foreign Affairs, and gave him a document - a speech so to speak. Count Han looked at it, saying in return, "I can't say any of this."

"You must," Duke Weon replied, "You are the eyes, ears, and mouth of the Empire. It is not your fault, and anyone to assume it is an idiot. Of course, you might get some hate mail from Casari, but we've learned since the incidents have exploded to ignore most of them."

Count Han sucked in his pride and prepared himself to admit the grievous errors of the Empire:

Ladies and Gentlemen of the World, to those who have suffered much in recent weeks resulting from the recent tirade of terrorist attacks, we must sincerely apologize for bringing great displeasure and distrust among you and ourselves, for we have reason to believe that information held within the Empire in advance of these numerous attacks failed to arrive at the proper authorities due to a break in communications with those authorities. We must stress that attempts were made at times to inform the government of Casari of the extreme nature of these attacks, and these efforts have all failed. The Empire itself, in advance notice of these attacks, was itself attacked - albeit via technological strategies. The terrorists were certain to disable our ability to communicate, so as to offer their attacks greater possibilities for success, which as has been noted were all thus far successful.

It is time to become transparent about the seriousness of these attacks. The threat is the threat of anarchy. Under the banner of the Mujeongbu - a terrorist organization aimed at striking fear into the citizens of the Empire years ago in order to bring about the forceful collapse of all hierarchy - have expanded their resources and their venues for attack to the world, and while we have been aware of this, our inclination to response was muted by a general distaste of involving Han affairs overseas. This was a gross error of judgment has allowed several hundreds of people to die at their hands. The Mujeongbu, as we have uncovered, have allied with noted anarchist groups abroad, nearly all of them claiming social progress in the name of a dead man named "Mao" - thence the name "Maoism". This group may also be confused with communism, fascism, extremism, hooliganism, tetraprism, computerism, gargantuism, chicken-pox-and-cold-shotism, and foolinism; until further notice, we encourage all governments to accept this confusion, as the Mujeongbu have been eager to dilute their numbers by dispersing into these organizations with the sole intent and purpose of creating distrust among all peoples and striking fear into every person. The Mujeongbu are a harsh group, and their ideology even more harsh. They had successfully run campaigns of fear upon Imperial citizens in the Western Provinces, and the Empire had successfully defeated the Mujeongbu there.

With this knowledge, and with these times, the Empire is opening itself to swallow pride and extend our gracious arms of support to those people affected by the Mujeongbu attacks. His Imperial Majesty - the Emperor Gwangmu - has authorized the formation of a trust fund to allocate 150 billion weon (about $282 billion) to alleviate the damage, the loss, and the pain suffered in these recent attacks. In addition, we are offering the services of special teams to help crack down on the Mujeongbu attacks and end their next phase in their quest for global anarchy. With the permission of the respective governments affected, we will impart whatever aid we can to end the Mujeongbu threat.

As a statement, we are not affiliated with the Mujeongbu. And furthermore, any member of the Mujeongbu is not a citizen of Han. Hence, we have recognized a great number of people abroad - who are Han citizens - who are left in peril because of these attacks. For this reason, it is imperative that every citizen of Han abroad must carry his or her identification papers and documents, giving evidence to each person as a citizen of Han. We encourage all citizens to return home to the Empire until a period of peace can be assured for all citizens of Han. In the meantime, we urge all citizens to report to the nearest available embassy and to heed all requests of the authorities of the lands you are inhabiting or visiting. We urge all governments to treat our citizens with respect, bearing in mind that they are not Mujeongbu criminals, and their safety is paramount to the Emperor's instructions. To these ends, we will render all aid to finding and discerning the difference between the Han and the Mujeongbu.

We again sincerely apologize for any grave error that has been committed, and we hope that collectively we are able to end the Mujeongbu threat. This is the word chosen by His Imperial Majesty, as the official communication between the Imperial government and all foreign establishments. Any other communication is to be ignored and discarded, unless it bears the Emperor's seal.

Duke Weon, seeing that the address was complete, felt a lighter load on his back. Now that the world would know, he had much work to accomplish.

===========

Somewhere in Casari

The warehouse meeting went exactly as planned - except for the big crash out by the Army. Apparently, some idiot drove his car to the building... fortunately, a select few escaped the damage before it ever occured, but some of the more important figures were lost in the maelstrom that followed the strike. It was evident that Phase B had to occur more quickly now. The Emperor's address made it imperative to "blend the people" and with a helpful following of Casari communists, it seemed to be the best alternative. The problem, of course, being that the Casari communists were in fact dumber than the average Casari citizen. But desperate measures call for desperate times...

It was his final act as a communist. He was working at a Chinese restaurant that was closing its doors, and it was his last job on the tour. The cooks had prepared a fantastic feast of lo mian and fried rice; the apparent callers were a bunch of security guards at the courthouse. The cooks worked hard to get the food ready and the communist, being the only person who didn't look Han, was sent to deliver. He smelt the food and was satisfied at the smell. Riding quickly on his bike, he strode to the courthouse, passing the guards at the gate. The only thing that he had on him was a metal crate full of the food. The guards checked it carefully, but after smelling how good the food was, let the man pass. However, it wasn't long before a guard noticed that he recognized the face and began searching the databases of all known communists. Sure enough, his face was on the list, and a hot pursuit followed. The commie was running on full, while the guards did not hesitate to open fire on the suspect. Incidentally, he got about 400 paces down the hall from the gate before a clean shot tore through his leg. He fell down, dropping the crate. The guards caught up with him, as he was reaching for the metal box. The guards took up the box before shooting the commie in the head and leaving him for dead. And approaching the box with extreme care, they opened it.

Well, stupidity had a name, and now it was all over the walls of the courthouse. But apparently, the cooks were busy making their concoction of lo mian and fried rice smell good enough to hide the massive dose of plastics in the bottom of the boxes. Seeing the explosion come out from the courthouse, and thinking that their mission was a success, the cooks nodded in agreement as they detonated their own kitchen and shop - ending many years of diligent work as they turned their true colors as emissaries of the Mujeongbu.

(ooc: my godmod waiver; hopefully, Casari appreciates me blowing up his country as much as I like doing it in amusing ways. If things are alright, next time will be an even more interesting one...)

Alan Sentor got up from his seat, shook hands with the Premier, and thanked her for coming.

"Also, Premier, while you've been out, some of my aides went into Hilltop, the State Capital and arranged for a number of shops, both clothing and those selling more personal effects such as...what we would call 'smellies'...and the like to come to the MBCC so that you may pick out what you need, supplied by the Bostopian Government."

Winter smiled in appreciation, with the back of her mind wondering if it was creepy for a foreign nation to buy her clothes and...'smellies'? Perhaps deoderants and such-like she thought. However, she was grateful that the Bostopians would think of such a thing in the first place.

"Now I'm sorry, but as you well know, we both have domestic concerns to deal with, again, thank you for coming."

Another aide, this one local to the MBCC (and therefore armed) stepped into the room, and offered to show the Premier and Mr. Neuman out.

Sentor made his own way back, with the Foreign Minister, Daniel Henrik, meeting him just outside the door.

"Henrik, we have an ally."

"I was hoping it would come to that, PM. While we can very well fend for ourselves, we both know that some external threats are too great for one nation."

"Indeed. An alliance of both ideology - of some sorts - and militarily will do us well, we come to their aid, us to theirs. Plus, the almighty goal of stopping socialism and communism in their murderous paths has been made easier."

"Very good, PM. This news will most likely demoralise the reds."

"Exactly, but we won't let any news get out until the public signing of documents. It lets us spin it favourably, not that it isn't favourable anyway. Ah, and yes, do sort out a number of vacant buildings in the diplomatic quarter for a visit by the Casarans. Bare interior, of course, but make the place look spick-and-span, and do make sure the heating or air conditioning is on, ready for a this-week visit from the Casarans."

"I assume I'll also be finding a detatchment of people to run our embassy in Casari?"

"Of course. Make sure they're headed by our best men, but send some of our younger people over, they'll learn the Casaran customs and be brilliant ambassadors and advisors to the Government or other individuals in the future."

"A brilliant plan."

Sentor nodded his agreement, and turned the corner into his private quarters.

The security zone covering from O to R and 32 to 35 streets were already in place, with concrete barriers and all, but there was still the off chance that something had been left for them, and that was never a good thing.

The order to clear a building for a foreign ambassador from Winter was followed swiftly and with great effect. A property with an owner marked for nonpayment of taxes was found, across the street on the corner of Q and 33, the property contained a trio of 5 story brick buildings, with a small courtyard and carpark in the center and surrounded with a low wall, used to be a small office park.

So the company of the elite 5th Colonials that was sent in to clean the place tore most of it apart looking for anything like bombs, weapons, or Hans, but seeing as it had been empty for a few years and the owner was an unabashed native Casaran who at one point stood for election as a hyperconservative, the only explanation was that he forgot he owned it.

But, as the process wound down, cries of "Clear" came from each room as teams moved from one floor to the next. Elisar was standing outside, watching the process take place. Eventually, the Captain of the company came up and nodded. "The buildings are clear, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Are you sure?" Elisar asked.

"Yes sir."

Elisar nodded. "Thank you, Captain." Turning, Elisar looked at the aide standing behind them. "Do we have the blueprints of the buildings and lot prepared?"

"Yes sir."

"Have them forwarded to the Bostopian government immediately. Inform them that we can build to suit, of course, if the buildings in place aren't satisfactory for their needs."

"Yes sir."

"Yes, General, we'll make sure there'll be enough room to park a tank in there." Henrik said, on a long-distance call via satellite.

"Denfeld?" The PM whispered to his Foreign Minister, who nodded. The PM shivered, Denfeld was one of the only men in the world who scared him.

"Ok General, thank you for your concerns." Henrik put the phone down.

"The Emperor's Own is growing stronger each day, Kitchforth, without us even having a say in it."

Stefan Kitchforth, the Defense Secretary looked over.

"They are, PM. I don't suppose it'll be long before they're their own branch of the Armed Forces."

"Could that not play to our advantage? A whole branch of the armed forces full of the most anti-communist, anti-socialist troops we have! A whole new Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines made up of troops like those!"

The other men in the room smiled.

"Divert funding immediately." The PM said unwaveringly. "Now, how to make safe the streets for Premier Winter's visit to Fort Boston?"

"Didn't we have that team in... what the hell was it, some Bostopian sport."

"Aye, there's an international in just a few days, I think." Neuman said.

"Go tell someone we're interested in attending- it's only right to support the boys in this case, eh?"

"Of course. Also, preperations for the Bostopian embassy are taking place. YOu know the property across the street from your old office?"

"Oh, the little office park?" Winter said. "I always thought we should take that over."

"Yup, it's being secured now, and turned up clean. It's also inside the secure zone, and we're not even bringing in pizza deliverymen and janitors at this rate- the 46th Supply has taken over the cafeteria and the other jobs in the zone. Some of the buildings are housing security troops and officials that don't want to spend an hour passing security checks. Those 9 blocks are a bloody fortress. Hell, they might not even let us in."

"Make sure the Bostopians get the proper gate credentials when they arrive... allow them a security patrol inside the zone as well. But keep it small, this isn't a military base. If they want one of those in Casari, they have to pay for it. With money."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am. Now, we need to compose a statement on this alliance business. How long until the election?"

"A month now, I think?"

"Slip it into the Daily Reports. Have the Interior Minister make a statement, rush it through the assembly. Make sure we monitor the returns and prepare for a speech which I'll probably have to give."

"You sound enthused."

"I hate speeches. Anyway, let's see about some tickets and some proper clothing. And booze. I could use a drink." Winter said.

"Naturally."

It was a tape, and the mailbox information didn't specify from whom the message was sent. But it was delivered to CasariTV promptly in a brown paper bag. The security video showed that a mailman was delivering the package, so it was obvious sent by mail.

But what was on the video was even more surprising than the package in which it arrived:


http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/67/Mao.gif

Greetings, people of Casari. I am the great Chairman Mao. You may have heard about me from various places that you have encountered my people. But Ii have come with this message to you, that you may understand the nature of this video.

First I would like to thank my staff for giving me this opportunity to tape a message to you. As you will note, this is being taped in a foreign location, possibly Jeruselem or even my homeland. But whatever the case, your people will not find me in Casari. And I'd like to thank the global postal system for taking a precious package across the world to this place. And I'd like to thank CasariTV for the opportunity to watch this video and decide that TV ratings are more important than security ratings. If not, I'd like to thank the Government of Casari for deciding that this message was unimportant enought to be a non-essential security threat. As you will have noted, there is no virulent strain of bacteria sitting on the package in which it arrived, and there are not mysterious things that will start to kill people on sight - except the beautiful pictures of myself.

But anyway, my purpose in talking to you today - I can see you! I can see you right now, right through this television screen! Through the magic of fiber optics, I can see everything that you do, and everything that you want to do. Miss Quincy of downtown Tyrellia, the old lady for goes to sleep on the toilet, for fear that she'll vomit in the middle of the night. She greets everyone with her left hand because that's the only hand that does not touch the water in the drain, except when on Tuesday three weeks ago, she accidentally dipped it into the bowl. Mr. Thurman of some place outside Tyrellia, the young man who goes to sleep every night with a differernt lady. He has unprotected sex, despite his claims otherwise. He is also a pedophile, so police in Casari may want to consider taking him, if it is in accordance with their laws.

I could go on all day about the various things that you people do, the interesting, the mundane, the lively, the deadly. But I'm here to let you know that I can see you, and I can see your fear. Everyone is your neighbor, but no one is your friend. What about the Han? They are your enemies! Wwhy should you trust them? Why should you be tormented with fear? Indeed, make things right! Kill them all. We'll be killing you in the process, but consider this - the fewer Han, the fewer of us.

This has been a friendly message of the Mujeongbu. Please have a nice day, and Ms. Winters, don't forget to wipe after you shit, and don't use your hand. Especially since you're going to be shaking hands with the Bostopians soon.

It was an interesting tape indeed.

The tape ejected from the player slowly, the assembled staff blinking a few times. The government-approved Director of CasariTV shrugged. "We recieved one copy?"

"Yup."

"Get me a envelope. Bring around a car as well." He said, checking the different players attached to the machine to be sure that no copy had been made. Then, grabbing the tape, he left the room quickly and jumped down the steps to the ground floor two at a time, exiting through the main entrance and getting in the black sedan that had been driven around front. In a minute, the car was off. There was a lengthy stop at Secure zone gate D, but eventually they were let through, and within an hour the tape was on the desk of Elisar."

After watching it, Elisar snickered. "I think I made a better video for my tenth grade film project." He said. "Either way, this should be disposed of... Hmm." Elisar said, thinking. "Let's have some fun, this should be good."

Elisar left the building and trotted across the street, knocking on the gate of the new Bostopian embassy. Tilting his head, one of the guards looked at him and the Director suspiciously. "G'day, gents." Elisar said cheerfully. "We couldn't think of anyone better to do something for us." he continued, holding the tape.

After a bit of radio communication, the guards shook their heads. "We can't take that, you'll have to bring it someplace else."

"Where the bloody hell else can we bring it?"

---

The flight to the Isle Sentor Space Centre was long and boring. The aide that walked out was dressed in a generic army uniform so as not to be identified, but was carrying both the tape and a video camera.

The officials looked at him with an odd look as he taped himself giving them the tape.

"... well, we all wanted to see what you did with it."

This Bostopian missions into space were well established, but launching a rocket, albeit one with a tape strapped to it the booster rocket, would be something new.

The countdown started..."5, 4, 3, 2, 1...we have ignition! And liftoff of the Northbrook Rocket, carrying scientific equipment for military use!"

The booster rocket eventually seperated, and the Casarans looked a bit disappointed at the lack of action.

"Wait, wait." Was the only words spoken by a senior Bostopian official.

As planned, the booster rocket fell perfectly into the sea, which was abrim with floating mines, causing an almighty explosion. The Casarans were pleased, though what happened next stunned them. With all the mines done with, a Bostopian submarine, the CSBS EOR (N) Denfeld surfaced, with a few crew members jumping out into the sea in scuba gear, grabbing what bits of destroyed mine, tape and booster rocket they could.

"What on earth - wait, isn't that bad for the environment?" one of the Casarans muttered.

"Nonsense, a bit of rocket fuel never...we'll clean it up later." Now, to the submarine.

They all jumped into a boat that was anchored at the dock, and made the journey to the submarine, climbing into a hatch.

"Still filming?"

"Yes"

"Then stop it, we're allies but we have secrets. Our satellites will pick up what happens from here. We've a long journey to go anyway yet."