Bereza
03-04-2004, 15:04
70km east of Kokosoviy Pl'azh*, Sevsibir District, Berëza
*Coconut Beach, transliterated from Russian
"Coconut Beach, my ass," growled Starshina Vit'a Yakov, one of the Osnaz commandos, brushing off the thick layer of sticky snow that unexpectedly blew into his face, and the open cabin of his and 19 others' TV-3 transport helo. It was too loud to hear what the pilots were doing, but they seemed to be looking for a place to land. In the blizzard, typical for this remote region of the Berëzan taiga, it was impossible to see anything other than dark white, let alone somewhere to land. The other TV-3 was a barely visible phantom, though a mere 20 meters away from the now-hovering helo. The weather was a major setback to an increasingly disastrous situation - by the time the 40 commandos managed to land and find the well-concealed entrance to the underground research facility, they found the place deserted, save for a couple dozen corpses of technicians and security guards; shot, knifed, or garroted cleanly and recently with Berëzan weapons.
This was obviously the work of professionals. First: only some 500 people in the entire world even knew that the Kokosoviy facility even existed, let alone what went on inside. Most of those 500 knew only that it was a very important research facility for the Berëzan military, which had recently been given an unusually large budget for weapons research. Second: Kokosoviy had a security system that made the Pentagon look like a treehouse. Whoever managed to make off with the hardware, software, and technical data for four especially valuable military projects must have known the system inside and out. Even the facility's chief of security wasn't supposed to know half of its elaborate defenses, and he was now pouring his heart and brains out all over his desk. Third: the nearest military base recieved a distress call a mere 5 minutes before the snow hit Starshina Yakov's face, and there was no trace of the attackers by the time they got there. And finally: less than 30 in the world knew of the mere existence of Projects Moskva, Leningrad, Kursk, and Stalingrad. Nearly everyone who knew of their existence was now dead, and as for the rest, they only knew some of the details of the first three. Nobody, not even the Minister of the Exterior herself knew what Project Stalingrad was. All hard information and hardware related to all four was now gone, disappeared into the blizzard and the forest.
A disaster of this magnitude, speculated to have arisen from the recent political upheaval in Berëza, was to be dealt with in the most urgent way possible. Half of the entire Osnaz was given the task of finding the four projects, their captors, and capturing both. Towards this end, the Ministry of the Exterior approved declassifying any relevant and known information. What the thousands-strong Osnaz force knew was that Project Moskva had something to do with aircraft technology, and that a prototype of a medium bomber-sized plane with this technology (whatever it was) was built. Presumably, the prototype and miscellaneous hardware escaped the facility under its own power. Project Leningrad had something to do with missile technology. A prototype was known to have begun constuction, but it was not known whether it was operational yet, or where it is. Project Kursk had something to do with tank/AFV technology, and the MiniEx hinted that it might have to do with stealth. Presumably, this is how the two prototype tanks managed to evade the huge search effort immediately following the attack.
Nothing was known of Project Stalingrad other than that 1. it exist(s/ed), 2. it was a highly sensitive project of a very important research facility, and 3. it, and all information about it, no longer existed anywhere except with its captors.
Within 24 hours, almost everything related to projects Kursk and Leningrad, including the two tanks and the one missile, were found abandoned near the desolate northeast coast of the Sevsibir District. Three days later, the prototype of Project Moskva was spotted for the last time. Now, a week later, the Ministry of the Exterior's severe discomfort over Moskva, and especially Stalingrad, grew into a panic, to the point where it began looking for international help. Though generlly adamantly self-sufficient and independent, MiniEx was not stupid. It knew that anything the Kokosoviy facility produced was extremely dangerous in the hands of able users, and it understood the skill of whoever managed to make off with four top-secret projects, the lead scientists and technicians of each, and evade one of the best special forces in the world. Hoping to convey the importance of the situation, it worded its encoded and privately sent appeal for help in hopes that its recipients would realize in how much danger the world may very well be.
ooc: this probably sucks, but i've been up drinking for almost 24 hours now, so make the best of it, and please at least consider participating. if it really sucks and you're interested, let me know and i'll rewrite it with the same idea.
*Coconut Beach, transliterated from Russian
"Coconut Beach, my ass," growled Starshina Vit'a Yakov, one of the Osnaz commandos, brushing off the thick layer of sticky snow that unexpectedly blew into his face, and the open cabin of his and 19 others' TV-3 transport helo. It was too loud to hear what the pilots were doing, but they seemed to be looking for a place to land. In the blizzard, typical for this remote region of the Berëzan taiga, it was impossible to see anything other than dark white, let alone somewhere to land. The other TV-3 was a barely visible phantom, though a mere 20 meters away from the now-hovering helo. The weather was a major setback to an increasingly disastrous situation - by the time the 40 commandos managed to land and find the well-concealed entrance to the underground research facility, they found the place deserted, save for a couple dozen corpses of technicians and security guards; shot, knifed, or garroted cleanly and recently with Berëzan weapons.
This was obviously the work of professionals. First: only some 500 people in the entire world even knew that the Kokosoviy facility even existed, let alone what went on inside. Most of those 500 knew only that it was a very important research facility for the Berëzan military, which had recently been given an unusually large budget for weapons research. Second: Kokosoviy had a security system that made the Pentagon look like a treehouse. Whoever managed to make off with the hardware, software, and technical data for four especially valuable military projects must have known the system inside and out. Even the facility's chief of security wasn't supposed to know half of its elaborate defenses, and he was now pouring his heart and brains out all over his desk. Third: the nearest military base recieved a distress call a mere 5 minutes before the snow hit Starshina Yakov's face, and there was no trace of the attackers by the time they got there. And finally: less than 30 in the world knew of the mere existence of Projects Moskva, Leningrad, Kursk, and Stalingrad. Nearly everyone who knew of their existence was now dead, and as for the rest, they only knew some of the details of the first three. Nobody, not even the Minister of the Exterior herself knew what Project Stalingrad was. All hard information and hardware related to all four was now gone, disappeared into the blizzard and the forest.
A disaster of this magnitude, speculated to have arisen from the recent political upheaval in Berëza, was to be dealt with in the most urgent way possible. Half of the entire Osnaz was given the task of finding the four projects, their captors, and capturing both. Towards this end, the Ministry of the Exterior approved declassifying any relevant and known information. What the thousands-strong Osnaz force knew was that Project Moskva had something to do with aircraft technology, and that a prototype of a medium bomber-sized plane with this technology (whatever it was) was built. Presumably, the prototype and miscellaneous hardware escaped the facility under its own power. Project Leningrad had something to do with missile technology. A prototype was known to have begun constuction, but it was not known whether it was operational yet, or where it is. Project Kursk had something to do with tank/AFV technology, and the MiniEx hinted that it might have to do with stealth. Presumably, this is how the two prototype tanks managed to evade the huge search effort immediately following the attack.
Nothing was known of Project Stalingrad other than that 1. it exist(s/ed), 2. it was a highly sensitive project of a very important research facility, and 3. it, and all information about it, no longer existed anywhere except with its captors.
Within 24 hours, almost everything related to projects Kursk and Leningrad, including the two tanks and the one missile, were found abandoned near the desolate northeast coast of the Sevsibir District. Three days later, the prototype of Project Moskva was spotted for the last time. Now, a week later, the Ministry of the Exterior's severe discomfort over Moskva, and especially Stalingrad, grew into a panic, to the point where it began looking for international help. Though generlly adamantly self-sufficient and independent, MiniEx was not stupid. It knew that anything the Kokosoviy facility produced was extremely dangerous in the hands of able users, and it understood the skill of whoever managed to make off with four top-secret projects, the lead scientists and technicians of each, and evade one of the best special forces in the world. Hoping to convey the importance of the situation, it worded its encoded and privately sent appeal for help in hopes that its recipients would realize in how much danger the world may very well be.
ooc: this probably sucks, but i've been up drinking for almost 24 hours now, so make the best of it, and please at least consider participating. if it really sucks and you're interested, let me know and i'll rewrite it with the same idea.