NationStates Jolt Archive

Quenra, SIRPC capital:

The throng stood in the middle of the large Adenha Semtu, or Dawn Square, several thousand strong. Slowly but steadily, they were making their way toward the residence of their leaders, Alaru and Brel Srundo. The protest had started a few hours ago, but more and more people continued to trickle in and mingle with the crowd. They held bright signs, and chanted slogans, crying out against the forced re-education edict their leaders had issued two days before.

"No more assaults upon our civil rights!" they called. "Did not the Srundos say they would free us?"

*****

Alaru Len Srundo pushed back the curtains of the window in the living room on the fourth floor of his residence and put his binoculars to his eyes. "Sir, I'm not sure that is—" began his bodyguard, coming from behind him.

"Lingu, don't even begin to tell me what is 'safe'," Alaru cut him off. "Who led a rebellious army and wrested this nation from the capitalists and, in so doing, broke nearly every one of the laws in Illennia, and faced death if caught? I didn't care about safety then, and I don't now." Alaru closed his green eyes for just a moment, allowing his words to take him back to the thrill and danger of those days.

Lingu smiled. "Apparently you do care about safety, at least a bit," he replied. ""You still have me on your staff."

"Touché," conceded Alaru, allowing himself a rare smile, as well.

"But why do you wish to watch this protest, sir? This is not the first, nor will it be the last."

"This is the first time they have decided to march to my home, and I merely want to watch a bit. You have my promise that if things do get too dangerous, I will accede to your wishes to move me to a more secure location—"

"Alaru Len, what are you doing?" Brel's voice came from the sitting room behind them. "Haven't you more productive things to do than to watch a march?"

"And who asked you, Mother?" Alaru called back. As Brel pretended to storm into the room in her best maternal imitation, he caught her by the waist and they shared a short kiss. "Do you ever tire of hounding me?" he inquired with a mock frown.

"Hounding you? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just trying to instill some decent behavior into you before your bedtime," she replied with mock indignation brushing a few unruly strands of his blond hair out of his face. They both laughed. "In all seriousness, what is going on? Have they started tangling with the riot police yet?"

"No, this protest seems quite peaceful. They haven't—" he stopped talking, and Brel saw his knuckles, gripping the binoculars, turn white.

He looks so similar... so very like... Alaru thought, his face becoming tight. No, put that image of the past behind you!

"What happened to that man?" he asked his bodyguard, passing Lingu the binoculars and pointing in the general direction of a supine figure that had fallen in the front ranks of the crowd.

"I would imagine he displayed threatening behavior, and was stunned by one of the riot police, as per orders," Lingu said, not seeming to understand Alaru's sudden change in mood.

"Get on the radio, and remind the riot police to use the greatest discretion, and to fire only at the most dire need," Alaru ordered.

"Yes, sir," Lingu nodded his head curtly, and left the room.

Brel stood silently, noting this sudden occurrence. She more than most about Alaru's past and the reasons he now in the former president's house, about the memories that drove him while on his revolutionary path, decades ago. However, even she was not sure about how the sight of a prone man could trigger such a reaction in her husband...

OOC:I'm hoping to start an RP with this, if anyone's interested. My threads tend not to get answered much, and I would like to reverse this trend...

Bump

Sheesh, people. Why do y'all ignore me every time I post? *Chokes up* I try so hard!

I'm about to give up on this.

Ooh! Ooh! I'd like to get involved! Please don't cancel this!

I think it's because most people don't know where this is going or how to get involved. However, you do roleplay very well; this could certainly take off although it sounds more like a novel than a roleplay so far because I can't figure out how to involve myself...that or everyone's busy with n00king each other and such...

Perhaps after this you could try to get yourself involved in other roleplays and alliances, where you could make allies and a name for yourself as well. They are more likely to respond to your own situations than people who don't know you.

OOC: Okay, let's give this a go...

IC:

The figure standing near the front of the crowd listened to the assorted shouts eminating from the crowd... Translation of the native tongue was second nature to him at this point.

"No more assaults upon our civil rights!" they called. "Did not the Srundos say they would free us?"

That that was all what the protest amounted to. Not unexpected really. Rarely did a revolution, be it political or social, ever have results actually able to live up to the expectations of those masses that supported it. The Council back home had known that there would be protests, and the Srundos had known it as well. They also knew that this would not be the last.

He did not take up the call, himself. He didn't not wish to draw the attention of the assemblage of riot troops around the protesters. But then, standing and observing the protest from it's very center would do little to blend him with his surroundings... So he stared at the home of the Srundos with tense anticipation, as so many others were.

At least this was a peaceful protest. He had been sent here to observe the overthrow of capatilism for the Deus Project. His home nation— Goofoundland— had given up on capatilism, and though the Council supported ideals of the revolution that had taken place here, Goofoundland could not afford to offer any sort of official support.

So they had sent him, not to influence the course of this nation or any of its people, but to observe and to learn, that it might benefit the Deus Project. But he was not safe here. If he were caught, it was doubtful that anyone would believe that his intentions were harmless.

The fervor of the crowd was beginning to grow, at least in the front lines were he had found himself. He didn't want to be here— but he couldn't just turn around and leave, now could he?

In his trenchcoat, he carried a folded cardboard sign, in case he should ever feel the need to produce one in order to "blend in." It may not have been necessary, but it was just that he would've felt more comfortable if he were doing something...

But as he reached into his coat, some of the riot troopers began to shout, and he realized his mistake. He should have worn something else: he had the look of a 'tough guy' and they thought he was going for a weapon. He instantly froze, but it was too late.

He hit the ground. If he had been given the time to think, he would've despaired. He would eventually have to produce identification now, under one circumstance or another, and while he had papers, anything more than a cursory glance would reveal them to be false.

But then, he didn't have the time to think. The back of his head struck the pavement, and he fell into unconciousness.

...

"What happened to that man?" he asked his bodyguard, passing Lingu the binoculars and pointing in the general direction of a supine figure that had fallen in the front ranks of the crowd.

...

And while Alaru Len was noticing his presence, the observer from another nation revelled in dreams of home... though it was unlikely that he would ever see it, now.

OOC EDIT: I didn't really know where you were going with this, so I just jumped in... Hope you don't mind.

Ah, foolish. In my country we put a death penalty in protesting like this, we never have such a problem, but if we ever do, its time to get out the flame throwers and char them alive! It's ironic that theyre protesting against freedoms isnt it?

Not in the least. I'm thinking that I could somehow covertly aid the rebels somehow. Maybe assist them with weapons and training, secret of course...

I'll be more than happy to get involved. Just let me know if I can.

A group of large, heaviliy armored men stand outside the crowd. They seem to have a canister-like object on their back, faces with stains of smoke and charcoal, and a large, gun like object with a charred nozzle. Upon them stands a man in an excecutive suit, pending permission from the government when to start controlling the crowds.

"When will these damn hippies learn!" says a soldier.

"Hold your fire boys, we're not legally allowed to take action unless instructed to. Just stand guard, and use your night sticks if they come towards you" says the man in the excecutive suit.

[OOC: Err someone do something to stop me]

Looking back over his shoulder and at the Srundo home, a riot officer on the ground was contemplating very seriously on the situation. Had the time really come? He reached to his side, removing his lethal round cartridge with a qiuet snap. The officer next to him saw this, and one look from the man now discreetly loading his weapon with the deadly rounds convinced him to keep his mouth shut.

The rounds were loaded.

Toby Nisun, the officer with the loaded weapon, flipped down his visor and cocked his weapon. The other police were confused, having not known Toby for a long time. He had just joined the force last week, and did not talk much. Toby stalked over to his commanding officer with a brisk step, and calmly and steadily shot him in the side of his head.

He turned to the Srundo house, and began firing shots at the nearby windows, shattering large panes of glass that fell and embedded themselves in some of the other riot police.

Peaceful demonstration indeed.

Toby ran towards the crowd, desperately trying to megre with the now tumultuous mass.

Brent watched the crowd from a distance. They were marching to the President's house. Brent knew crowds like this. The history of the Fist had been filled with similar images. Until it had turned violent. Every school child in the Fist was educated on the origins of the region now. They knew the story of the riots and the revolution. That was all over 200 years ago though.

Brent watched. He hoped history would not repeat itself. The crowd had signs and slogans and they marched. As Brent watched, a man reached inside his cloak. The police reacted instantly. Bad Move Thought Brent. The man collapsed. Brent watched. The crowd is going to be angry about that The man had only been stunned. But still, it would be seen as police brutality and with a crowd this size, impossible to miss or suppress.

The crowd recolied for a moment, then moved forward again. Brent watched.

Crusing high above the crowd, a small shape drifted in the air. No one had noticed it before as they were to busy protesting to be bothered by the black form above them. The object was, in fact, an Alexzandrian spy drone. It was dutifully filming the scene below, then trasmitting it back the the Alexzandrian capital.

Back in the capital, a group of military intelligence officers sat spellbound at the scene unfolding before them. They watched as a riot officer slaughtered his squad, then as a man in the front row fell to the ground. At this point, their commander punched a button on his vox and said "Mr. President, I think you had better see this."

Nisun scrambled towards the masses, almost tripping up. He clutched his gun white-knuckle tight. From behind him came the whipping sound that let him know he was being shot at. Stun rounds? Lethals? Likely the latter. Looking a few feet ahead, he saw the bullets pass through the peaceful protesters, dropping them to the ground. Blood began issuing from their wounds, and the people around them began to swarm both around them, and at the police force in front of the Srundo house. Nisun himself was pushed forward by a group of protesters-turned-rioters. With all his other options stripped, Nisun began to reload his weapon, proceeding to fire more and more rounds at the Srundo manor. He began to relax, moving of his own will.

The rioters were picking up the weapons of the downed officers, and Nisun's help, a group of his close family, friends, and neighbors, drew their concealed weapons and began to open fire.

Madness.

Surging forward amongst the protesters-turned-rioters, Lance Michealson pulled out his own concealed firearm; an SA-80. Almost as suddenly as the first shots rang out into the mob, the mob began to fire back. Shots whipped in every direction as pistols from home and weapons stolen from the dead officers were taken up by the seething mass.
Lance signaled to the rest of his squad by firing off ten shots into the air. Almost immediatley, he saw nine other SA-80's in the air, firing off their ten shots. Reassured that the squad was well spread, he started blasting with the mobsters around him. Those that didn't have guns snarled encouragement to those who did, the officers weren't able to fall back fast enough, the mob killing more and more and getting more and more guns. Those at the front soon had the cops in hand-to-hand combat. Kinfes don't fair to well against thick metal pipes. Soon, the officers had retreated into the house.
It was then that the mob raised whatever weapons they could find, pipes, belts, guns, knives, signs, areosols and lighters, anything, into the air and a massive incoherent roar echoed from them as they charged toward the doors...

The Phallanxian Assault carrier Flame of Purity is heading past the coast of Proletariat Comrades when it picks up radio traffic indicating a large disturbance.

Phallanx is offering to deploy 20 fleet air security (FAS) teams to help govenrment forces secure key buildings around 1000 men in total

Nisun was at the head of the charge, and he was nearly tossed through a window into the house by the mob. As he crashed through the pane, he found himself in a room without any guards. He called to his comrades, and they issued into the room behind him, securing the area and preparing to hunt down the Srundos.

my internet was down and its late now, I'll post tomorrow.

Brent winced as the bullet round entered the officer's skull and exited the other side, then sailed through is window. The glass shattered, sprinkling Brent with shards. He wiped off the pieces, the cuts wern't bad. Brent picked up his BDI Light .50 Sniper Rifle. He sighted through the scope and targeted the man who had fired the shots. As the man ran, Brent drew a bead on him. He centered the crosshairs and pulled the trigger. . .


Thousands of miles away, BLARGistanian central intelligence began to recieve live video feeds of the incident that was unfolding. The man fired the gun, rounds blasting into surrounding windows. The crowd, surging forward in rage and panic, the police force collapsing in on themselves.

Nisun fell to the floor, clutching his head. He was on his knees, and saw the drops of blood fall from his head onto the floor. A sniper's round had just grazed his head.

Member's of his group, the people he had grown up with in a small town, were already advancing through the Srundo estate. Nisun recovered from the near-fatal wound, and follwed after his comrades in a slight daze from the bullet.

Up the stairs they went, finding little resistance except the remaining police force, which was pouring into the house behind them. This created an interesting and volatile situation, in which the hunters of the Srundos were being hunted themselves. The rioters were in the house as well, and their actions ran parallel with Nisun's objectives, and they had only half the work they expected.

Nisun entered a small security room filled with video monitors and two of his cousins crouched behind him, watching his back with stolen sub-machine guns.

The front hall was in absolute chaos. Rioters swinging with bars and poles smashed through the riot gaurds, who were desperatly trying to stay alive behind their shields and couldn't be bothered to risk swinging at the mobsters. Lance siezed the shield of one of the men and filled his shocked face with lead. Grinning, he saw the other members of his team down the line do the same. Lance dashed forward and began to shoot at the second line of riot officers who were beginning to draw tear gas and stun rifles. Soon, they were lying in pools of blood and being trampled by the horde as they poured into the first hallway, charging down both sides and smashing doors down in their bloodthirsty hunt for their 'leader'. The squad grouped up and began to join in the door-shattering fun. As they sprinted down the hallway, they smashed down the door to the security room, quickly spotting the three occupants of the room.
"Freeze!" Trent shouted. He suddenly keeled over as a spray of rounds hit him in the gut. Thankfully, his kevlar vest held.

Meanwhile, in the capital, the president had just borne witness to the events of the past few minutes.
"Well.", he thought aloud. "We have a squad of Black Berets in there. Now, how are we going to get them out?"
"We already have planned for that sir." replied Major General Hazard, who proceeded to outline his plan...

Toby Nisun turned at the gunshots, noting the man on the floor. He yelled out to him in the clamour.

"We know why you're here. We're here to do the same. Any help you could offer in finding Srundo's rooms would help."

He walked away from the video monitors. His accomplices followed him as he ran at a crouch down the hall, checking each of the halls with the shotgun he'd obtained from the security room. Most of the time he was in and out, but once and again a blast would ring out and Nisun would emerge withe a new spatter of blood on himself.

They made their way down the halls and up the stairs, not knowing yet exactly where the Srundos were.

Nisun cocked the shotgun, raised his hands, and moved with his men to the grand staircase of the estate. Expecting heavy resistance, they had all donned full body armor in the security room.

They flipped their visors and began to surround the staircase. The plan was to wait until the resistance came out...

Seth Hurran had not been in Illennia for any particular reason; on the way from one job to another, he had looked up with some surprise as the midway stop destination was announced. He couldn't be surprised; the USSS reputation for skinflintiness had proven true in that the plane assigned to transport him was practically nothing more than a brush-hopper. He quickly skimmed through the USSS data packet on the young nation as the plane touched down. Not too big, fairly recently had revolution to overthrow corrupt capitalist government, etc. Nothing unusual.

Nothing unusual either that, being a low level operative, the pilot shortly came in with news of a malfuction.

"The blade roots in one of our engines' turbine just about gave up, sir. Good thing we landed at all; else the engine would likely have blown right up on us. Local techs say it'll take a couple days to fix; nothing much."

No, not much. Seth had decided to take advantage, in fact, take a small vacation, see the locals, see what socialism looked like before the kinks were well ironed out.

Instead what he saw was one hell of an angry riot, with so much bizarre shit happening he could hardly follow it.

Technically, he shouldn't do anything. Turn around, go away, maybe mention it to Intel, let them get a jump on it. Technically it was not his concern. He was an operative, not a freelance crazy man. Technically he didn't even know what side to pick, hardly knew the country, found the local dialect hard to understand, and really wasn't sure he wanted to fight socialism, which was good, because it hadn't gotten around to allocating enough rights yet.

Technically, he really didn't give a damn. Just overthrew the country, did these people, shouting the praise of socialism, killed thousands, and now in the end don't do a damn thing for the people? It rankled him, badly. He could see the glint of binoculars; was the upstart bastard enjoying the show as men died, as all hell broke loose, bullets flying and blood splattering?

Even as he mentally prepared himself to act, his PDA alerted him. Clutching at it irritatibly, he quickly skimmed the message. Then double-taked, skimmed it again. Impossible.

He had orders.


Weapons first. Can't do anything without weapons. Somehow -- somewhy, a USSS agent had secreted a cache in a nearby park, almost five years ago -- when the SIRPC was still Illennia. He didn't even bother to think about why -- didn't want to know. Quickly following the beacon's signal on his PDA, he unearthed several large rocks in a thicket of bushes and gasped at what lay underneath. Neatly wrapped in clear plastic, an assault rifle with underslung grenade launcher. At least a dozen-odd magazines of ammunition; armor piercing tips, blooming pattern back. Two pistols, with similar ammo. Half a dozen small knives, near-monomolecular edge. A full suit of body armor, thick enough to protect but not too much so to hide. Several fist-sized chunks of explosives. And, best of all, nearly a meter-long vibrosword, designed to be able to cut through virtually anything with ease, as long as the blade didn't shatter, as it was wont to do.

Seth was an expert with the sword and knives. And he knew he'd need every weapon at his disposal.

Tactics. First locate leaders of the chaos. There seemed to be one or two natives at the front shouting directions, but even more important were the men in combat armor carrying their own assault rifles, who had helped scare the crowd into reacting and slaughter the first set of guards. Sprinting to the Srundo estate, trying to look as inconspicuous as a man toting a machine gun and bulky with armor plates can, Seth quickly plunged after the crowd. Tactics.

Thumbing the arming locks and throwing rapidly, Seth hurled several explosives around what he hoped was the midpoint of the rioters. Explosions blasted out, hurling protestors and chunks of masonry every which way. Screams echoed; many people simply turned tail and ran. Nothing like the actual threat of death to take away the will to fight in civilians, Seth thought, and smiled. Technically he was a civilian; no military branch would admit to having him.

But he wasn't scared of death.


Now running through the corridors of the Srundo mansion, Seth acted up a simple rule: anyone who looked like they were thinking, he shot. Raw anger and adrenaline any old guard could deal with; the plotters were the really dangerous ones. Like an angel of death he streaked through the confused people, dropping his targets with quick bursts. Again panic reigned in his wake -- what the hell was going on? Shit, even Seth didn't know that.

Suddenly, he was at the tail end of a completely different group: more hard faced, armed heavily, full armor, all of them taking up firing positions, covering doorways and hallways. One of them, wearing a strange helmet and toting an SA-80, turned to him smoothly and efficiently -- no wasted motion, the trait of a real soldier.

"Fighting for freedom, too, friend?" he asked, raising his weapon to half-guard position.

Seth answered him with a point-blank burst through his neck, practically severing the poor guy's head. He wasted a nanosecond mentally cussing; now the trouble really started. He hurled his final two charges into the thick of the armored rebels, knocked down a few with an extended blast from his assault rifle, draining the mag, then ducked through a nearby doorjamb. All he had to do was buy time for the damn Srundos to escape. And hopefully not die so the USSS, the glorious government he half suspected of rigging that damn engine so he would be in the right place at the right time, would not have to deny his existance.

And he still had no idea why he was even being ordered to help those people in the first place.

Damn.

Brent swore. The man had ducked at just the right moment to keep his life. The bullet had grazed the guy, but he had avoided the head shot. Brent packed up his rifle and walked out of the room before anyone could come to investigate. He exited the building and ducked into a side alley. He pulled a beretta out of his shoulder holster and checked it. Time to enter the fray.

Brent knew that the riot was about freedom, and he supported that. But he also supported order. His orders had entailed him to watch and intervene if things went too far. Now, Brent was to try and get to a secure station to await new orders. The trick now was to get their safely.

Lance and his squad continued down the hall until they came to a corner. With the rest of the mob occupied with looting the rooms in the hall, it was a simple task for Nate to lob a grenade around the bend and no one would notice. The supressed thud wasn't noticed by the mobs, and the group slipped around to find two soldiers clinging to their faces where the shrapnel had entered. Nick drew his knife and mercifully ended to the two men's torture while the rest of the team dashed down this hall, spotting a staircase near the middle.

Outside the mansion, the spy drone had spotted the man dashing from his hiding place. It's controllers thought this odd and had it swoop down for a better view and, if necessary, a better shot.

Nisun was coming back from a snag in the hallway. Upon his return to the beseiged stairwell, he just caught a glimpse of the scence. One man had just been shot, explosives had been used.

He snuck carefully behind the obvious professional, and without a thought or sound, landed a qucik and accurate pistol whip to the base of the man's skull and underside of the helmet. Just enough force to disable, disarm, and knock out cold. The men, now scattered across the room, scrambled to aid friends and secure their new prisoner. From him, they took some of the explosives, and all of his weaponry. He was left with his armor to ensure his safety. Nisun's group wasn't out to kill anyone who didn't look, smell, of think like a Srundo or Srundo employee.

Deciding at that point it would be wiser to move fast, Nisun had the explosuves rigged.

With a loud slamming pound, the door at the staircase flew open from the explosive blast. Nisun's men waited, and a few elite Srundo guards rushed out through the smoke, only to be smashed in the head with butts of rifles. The knocked out guards were put in a closet, along with the other man, and locked.

Nisun and his fellows proceeded through the door to what looked like an imperial hallway, which would hopefully lead to the target, and the end of Srundo opression.

WHAT!!!????

I go on a trip and return to this!!! Should I be astonished, or astonished!? Thanks, everyone!! I have been inactive but I'm back and will have plenty of spare time now. Let's get this show on the road!

*recovers from shock*

OOC: wow, almost forgot about this RP

IC:

Brent looked again at the computer screen and swore. It was not possible. These order didn't make sense. Was command aware of something he was not? Had they decided to leave? What the hell! Brent got up and paced angrily around the small room. he had made it to his apartment ok, but he had not expected this. The new orders made no sense to him. He had been originally ordered to intervene if necessary, but these. . .

Brent shook his head and tried to calm down. He packed up his rifle, stowed it away in its case, and layed the case on the bed. He put on his sholder holster and slipped the Berretta into it. Over this he donned his coat. He walked out of the hotel, back towards the crowd.

Across the screen a single message appeared. . .

Return. Oberserve. Do not interfere.

The government of Svala feels that countries with so-called "stabble" and "functional" governments are a dangerous abberation from the state of nature. We hereby declare that all functional governments with strong armies need to pound eachother into oblivion. Your cooperation in this mater is appreciated.

OOC: And why should we do that?

Just as Lance rounded the corner into a regal hall, he spotted a group of men rounding it at the other side. Recognizing them as the men in the security room, he flagged his squad to continue. Very quickly, his squad began kicking open doors in search of Sundros. Suddenly, Saleem happened upon a door from which he could here muffled voices. He slipped a fibre-optic camera into the lock on the door and spotted a large number of men crouching behind chairs and upturned tables. One of the men caught his attention, he was wearing a very priveliged looking suit. Only a glance at his told Saleem everything he needed to know; that they had found him. He turned and nodded to Lance, who in turn, signaled Nisun and his team. Saleem slipped his camera out with practiced speed and drew a C4 from it's sheath. He quickly set the timer on it, stuck it to the door, and dove for cover.

OOC: This is going to be both a story and action RP, with me supplying the story (Alaru and Brel's past, the Revolution, and other things, told in flashback). The flashback will be in italics.

IC:

The helicopter coasted from its perch on top of the Srundos' residence. Alaru and Brel, and their personal staff and bodyguards, had prepared to leave as soon as the shooting started.

"How could our forces have been so unprepared!? Why were they unable to diffuse a simple protest?" yelled Alaru, enraged.

Lingu hesitated before answering. "Well, sir, not enough funding is going into the police and army forces of this country. Too much of it is being spent on welfare, and the like."

"As it should be," returned the Leader. "I did not overthrow the capitalists, nearly thirteen years ago now, so that my comrades that I fought for would continue to live in poverty."

He leaned back in his seat, his anger dissipating. "I know, perhaps better than anyone here, why they are protesting this way," he spoke almost sadly. "It was the same with me when I was young. Oppression is oppression. I have failed my comrades upon the streets; the power I have as the Leader of this nation has blinded me. In my insulation in the building below us, I decided to enact things that turned out not to work the way I wished, things that have, perhaps, ruined the relationship between Leader and People forever."

"And there is only one way to repair it: change the Leader."

ONLY ONE WAY TO REPAIR...

The grandfather clock. The imported mahogany table. The matching chairs. Nel stared at them with the intensity he could not release any other way.

"Are you listening to me?" Menqui asked. Nel continued to stare into the furniture, acting oblivious. "For the last time, we will have to leave this place as soon as possible. Get your things, boy!"

"Mother..." Nel whispered. In only eight days, she had transformed from his doting, high-class mother to a hard-bitten, vengeful woman. The change of class was apparent in her already, even though it would not be official until they sold the house.

"It's not my fault this house cannot remain our property! Stop treating me as if I was responsible! I didn't take two-thirds of the money!" she screamed, tears beginning to run down her face. "Now go!"

She believes she is responsible, in a way, thought Nel. She can't get it out of her mind that it's her fault that she wasn't thin enough. That she wasn't ladylike enough. That she didn't keep the house in good enough order. That she brought shame to the family. Enough, enough, enough. We all failed. Father, Mother, me.

He remembered coming into the house late that night a month ago, an incident he now referred to in his mind as The Night. He walked to his father's office, and opened the door, to find him with... her. Denna. He had seen Denna many times, but not here. Not loving his father. And now they were both gone, to be with each other. Because Menqui and Nel weren't good enough.

"There's one more thing, Nel. We cannot support ourselves on the money he left us, and I will be unable to find a well-paying job, being a woman. You will have to find work, also."

The inhabitants of the helicopter heard the explosion. "C4," Lingu identified it. "Good thing we left when we did. The Senate members staying at your house, however..." he did not bother to finish the sentence. There had been a helicopter standing by to rescue them as well, after the Srundos' chopper had traveled a safe distance away from the landing site. They were hiding in the most secure area of the residence, but apparently that wasn't saying much, considering the incompetence of the security forces. Now, it seemed clear the extra helicopter would not be needed...

BUMP

What happened to y'all?

Sorry, I wasn't here all day yesterday.

Nisun came through the door that was blown out only seconds ago, shotgun pivoting in the air. He glanced around quickly; the room was full of upper class citizens. Senators, mayors, and the like. It flashed for a second in Toby's mind that all these people ought to be sent to the hells where they belong.

He shook the thought from his body with a chill.

The other rebels rushed into the room, but, following Nisun's example, they did not open fire. They merely pushed the people to their knees and held them prisoner. A suggestion was made to decapitate them, but Nisun interrupted:

"No, we can't go taking innocent lives for no reason. Take their money, jewelry, and fine clothes, and burn them. give them some decent pants and a shirt, then let them out."

The others nodded, and Toby stepped around the room, looking at the people kneeling on the floor. He crouched in front of a young woman.

"Where's Srundo?"

She could not look Nisun in the eye.

"...helicopter..."

Toby nodded to his partners, and in second they were in the access stairwell to the roof.

300 Phallanxian fleet air security troopers wearing full body armour pile into vanguard dropships on the deck of the assault carrier Flame of Purity. Most of the soldiers are carrying the Phallanxian MA6B battle rifle loaded with live rounds 20 men are carrying M124 light machine guns and there are also 40 snipers. Who will remain the dropships

The dropships take of headed for the capital and after 2 hours of flight they reached the city looking out through the rear door the soldiers could see buildings on fire and huge mobs roaming the street. Suddenly automatic weapons fire came up at the dropships pinging of the armour plate the occasional lucky round ricocheting into the passenger compartment.

The lead six dropships come in to land the first the first comes in and lands on the roof of the Srundo house noticing an unusually large concentration of rioters. Four other dropships land and secure a four corner perimeter and the sixth lands in front of the building. Black clad figures debouch onto the grass and head for the building on the roof soldiers open a vent and enter the building, sweeping the building from top to bottom anyone with a weapon is considered a target.

Suddenly as the soldiers reach a third floor corridor a voice shouts “Nisun look at these guys” the soldiers open fire on a group which then pile through a door leaving a corpse on the floor. A horrific firefight breaks out on the third floor of the Srundos house between the iron disciplined Phallanxian troopers and a well armed group rioters.

OOC: Phallanx, would you mind writing your RPs in a clearer way? They're a bit hard to follow... also, stick to the past tense...

Soon, hopefully, I will get around to writing an "intelligence report" about SIRPC so you all will have a basic knowledge of it and its location, defenses, etc. It's way too late for me to do that now, though.

I'll just post a short update, with no flashback or anything. I'm tired...

IC:

"We have lost contact with all riot police," Lingu informed those in the helicopter. "Clearly, they have been completely overpowered by the protestors-turned-rioters, and some among the group apparently had highly sophisticated, spec-ops-grade weapons and protective gear. We're looking at an infiltration by some intelligance force, I'm afraid. Being merely a bodyguard, my knowledge in such matters is quite limited. When we get to the bunker, I assure that you will recieve a full briefing."

Brel turned to him. "We cannot allow Quenra to fall under their control, or it will mean the death of more innocents. We must send in our Army to return order to the capital."

Lingu was about to reply when the radio in his ear crackled. "What?" he asked into the mouthpiece. "This is most unexpected... I am only a bodyguard... what orders can I give?"

"Sir, the Phallanxian military is hailing us!" Lingu sounded perplexed. "They have arrived, and are sending dropships into Quenra."

Alaru was clearly startled at such news. His nation had no formal relations with Phallanx. "Tell them, first and foremost, not to shoot unless shot at! If there are foreign forces in the capital, such things would easily drag us into a war!" He cursed to himself. Things were getting more and more complex, and more dangerous. Like it or not, his isolated nation was being thrust into the international limelight...

tag

OOC: sorry about my bad grammer and what have you.

Bump

OOC: Welcome, Praetonia! (Oh, and for future reference, you don't have to tag on these Jolt forums. Just click on "subscribe to thread" instead. Hard habit to break, I know...)

Thanks, Phallanx. I try to be understanding; I don't want to have to IGNORE anyone unless I absolutely have to, so I just tried to give you a friendly reminder... positive reinforcement...

The woman trembled, cursing herself inside for giving away the location of her Leaders so easily. Her utterance of that single word, helicopter, could mean the difference between life and death for them. Already, some of the enemy's number were heading up to the roof where the chopper had taken off.

At least she and her comrades would be kept alive, if these people's word meant anything. Their leader had decided not to "take innocent lives for no reason". Hypocrite. How many innocents had his force destroyed in getting up to this room?

Her senator's robes had been exchanged for a utilitarian jumpsuit, and she highly doubted that it made a smashing fashion statement. The rest of the senators wore the same types of clothing, dug up from a storage closet somewhere. It was said that the Srundo house held just about anything one could possibly need, and she was beginning to believe it.

For long periods of time, they kneeled and listened to their captors discuss things in their own language, which none of them understood in the least. Illennian was the main tongue in this land, of course, but English and Russian were also well-known. The language of those occupying the room was related to neither.

Without warning, the man who appeared to be the commander spoke in English to all of them. "You are being allowed to go," he said in a loud voice. "This building has been secured, and you will have safe passage through it and the city. If you are seen aiding in repression of the protestors, however, or any other pro-Srundo activities, retribution will be swift."

As they were escorted out of the room, the woman looked to her comrades. She saw her own questions in their eyes: Is this a setup? What do they want, if not us? Are they telling the truth? And most of all: Who are these people, and what do they have to do with the current situation in Illennia?

Bump for publicity.

Bump

"Dammit!" Lance snarled as he spotted the Phallanxian Dropships. "Saleem! Get on that radio and call in some air support!"
"Right!" Saleem quickly contacted an airbase and within seconds had a massive number of aircraft heading towards the manor. "Sir! ETA is five minutes!"
"Okay! C'mon! Let's get back down there and help the others!" barked Lance. He had left Trent, Nate, Rick, and Zac down with Nisun and his group. They quickly made their way inside and followed the sounds of a roaring firefight. As they slowly rounded a corner, they found themselves behind a squad of Phallanxian troopers. Tim quickly ripped the pin out of a concussion grenade and lobbed it into the middle of the Phallanxians. The resulting concussion knocked several of the Phallanxians unconcious. Those who were still concious were dazed. Running up to them, Lance watched as Saleem put a bullet into the skull of the three concious men. The others were tossed into a nearby janitorial closet. Signaling his men on the other side that they were clear, Lance crept back up to the roof.

The ACR-2's crusing over the countryside of Proletariat Comrades took in the serene beauty of it with a cold, unfeeling stare. They didn't care for such things as beauty or kindness. They only worried about their mission, which was to arrive at the Sundros Manor and provide air support. They most certainly didn't care about a helicopter that buzzed past them as they continued toward the manor, which they soon spotted in the vast city below them. They entered a dive that would've caused any normal jet pilot to black out, spotting several shapes hovering above manor. Confirming that those were Phallanxian dropships, they engaged their pulse lasers and locked on.

They had spotted the shapes a little while ago, moving insanely fast. As they began to dive, Lance grinned at the terrifiying precision of the robotic fighters. Suddenly, a hail of green lances began to rain down into the dropships, obliterating three of them instantly, the others immediatley began to flee the horrifying machines, which were now intent on destroying every last one of them.

Meanwhile, in the capital, the controllers of the robots noticed the helicopter and ran a check. They soon found that they had just passed up the chance to kill Sundros right there. Silently cursing himself, Yuri input the command to have one squadron of the escorting ACR-1's to hunt that chopper down and kill it.

OOC: let me get this straight terrorists have access to robotic jet fighters in a modern tech RP. this = i'm screwed

OOC: They're commandos actually.

OOC: you also GODMODED when you posted all my losses so i could ignore most of that post

Brent stared at the chaos unfolding around him. He ws still safe, or at least as safe as he could be, in his room. But the scene outside of the windows was just a mess. His BDI rifle was unpacked again, Just in case he kept telling himself.

Drop ships had arrived out of nowhere and dropped troops. The President's building had been overrun and now a Helicopter was on the roof, prepping a takeoff, the riot was still outside the gates and getting stronger. The people had been there to protest, but then people had begun to fire off weapons.

Brent had wired an optical feed and the device now caught everything he saw and transmitted it back to the Blargistanian central military HQ. Brent was now adding commentary as his field of view swept across the scene in front of him. Civilians are running through the streets, there is a full out riot in progress, shops destroyed, looting, several buildings on fire. Armed rebels in the Presidential compound, shots fired. Chopper on the roof, presumably an escape vehicle for the President. Dropships came out of nowhere. Phallanx make, disgorging troops. They are under attac by what appears to be the Alexandrian Military, but limited numbers. Some air support and light arms fire. Issue new orders.

Brent stopped speaking and continued to observe the chaos unfolding below him.

OOC: you also GODMODED when you posted all my losses so i could ignore most of that post

Oops, sorry. I'll just restart it at where they're beginning the attack run.

With no reply from squad 1 over the radio squads 3 and 4 moved in from outside the Srundos house to back up squad 2 inside. Squads 5 and 6 stayed outside to keep the area in front of the building clear for extraction.

Squad 2 was engaged in a furious firefight between 20 heavily armed Phallanxian troopers and the hostiles on the roof of the Srundos house.
squad 2 had been to late to stop the hostiles getting to the roof but they were certian the the lower floors were clear the dropships thermal imager had told them that. the top of the staircase was well defended and squad 2 was waiting for squads 3 and 4 before launching their attack.

Looking up into the sky master seargent Rasmussen saw a group of dots begin to dive towards the dropships. Gunfire from the heavens smashed into two of the dropships SUPER64 was immediatly blown apart in a huge airburst that shattered all the nearby windows and rained debris onto the crowd. SUPER68 was hit in the wing and lost control causing it to crash into a building oposite Srundos house aviation fuel causing a fire to spread rappidly into the building.

The squads on the ground opened fire at the attacking aircraft with light machine guns. Master sergent Rasmussen ran into the cover of the doorway of the Srundos house and picked up one of 4 AA shoulder fired missiles the squad had stored there he kneeled down and aimed the launcher at the diving attack planes before locking on and firing.

The missle smashed into one of the darting fighters before anyone (or anything) knew what was happening. The flaming chunks of twisted metal went spiraling off in every direction, one particualrly large chunk smashed into another fighter, sending the now blinded robot spiralling off into a nearby building. The robots immediately sensed they were under attack and a flight leader sent a signal for the ATR-1's that were holding outside of the city to move in. Moving quickly, they diverged into two groups, one group headed towards the mansion, the others began hunting for the enemy soldiers outside.

Lance heard a humming noise above this hiss of the ACR's above him. Risking a glance over the hunk of metal that his squad was hiding behind, the spotted about ten Alexzandrian dropships enclosing very quickly. This was all of a glance he dared to get for suddenly, another burst of fire erupted from the Phallanxians. This time, he only lost part of his ear. They were fearless and damn good shots at that. Without those reinforcments, his squad wouldn't be alive for much longer. Suddenly, the ramps dropped, and out came the first wave of GCR-2's. As they decended, they began to take huge amounts of fire from the Phallanxians. Some were so beaten that they just crumpled when they touched the ground. Others were in not such sorry shape. They were ready to kill anything that opposed them. Engaging their machine guns and chainsaws, they began to scour the rooftop for their victims.

Brent watched the Alexandrian dropships come out of the sky and swore. He didn't have time to wait for new orders. Brent reached down and picked up his BDI rifle from the floor. He snapped a 12 round clip into the loading chamber and clipped on the sight.

The Phallanxian (?) troops were unloading fire into the machines unloading from the dropships, but more were coming out, faster than they could be cut down. There were some scattered groups of Alexandrian troops out there as well, adding to the confusion. Brent chose to ignore the robots and instead focused on the group of men hiding behind a chunk of metal. He pulled up his rifle and sighted on one of them. Once he had a lined up a shot on the man, he pulled the trigger. . .

***
Alexi Valenkov recieved the transmission from Brent in paper form on his desk several hours after it was transmitted. He quickly read through the report, picking out the details easily, he had years of experience. After reading the report, he didn't like what he read. Valenkov sent a message to his intel center, and they relayed the message back to Brent, known as Shadow 7.
***
Brent's computer started to blink as a new message came across it, the message was sinple again, yet implied a whole new set of actions.

Engage with caution.

Zac snapped his head up, feeling a bullet ring off of his helmet. He quickly looked around for the source of the offending lead, which quickly proved to be a fatal mistake, for the moment he looked in the direction the bullet had come from, his face imploded. It was at this moment that an ATR, which had just finished unloading it's 50 GCRs, landed near the squad and dropped it's ramp, indicating that they were to board. They gratefully scrambled aboard and with a hiss, the ramp closed up and the were off. Glancing out a view port, Lance watched as the GCRs began to close with the Phallanxians on the roof. As he watched, he spotted a man on a nearby roof top with a sniper rifle. He quickly ordered Nate to get over to a firing port. Nate dashed to a port and slid his sniper rifle into it. Taking careful aim, he loaded an HE clip, slowly tracking the man. As he centered on the man's neck, he fired.

On the roof, GCR-S-993 took stock of it's situation quickly. It found that it had lost two soldiers from it's squad, and that the dropship carrying the humans was away. Content that it's first objective was complete, it ordered its squad to form up with the rest of the platoon. Soon, all 38 robots that had survived the leap from their ship in their platoon had formed up and they were now dashing towards the enemy soldiers on the other side of the roof. By now, all the robots that had survived the jump were thundering towards the Phallanxian troopers, a good 419 remained from the 500 that had been in the landing force. As they neared the enemy, it engaged it's chainsaw, eager to accomplish it's second main objective: Kill all enemies.

Out over the wilderness of Proletariat Comrades, the squadron of ACR-1's that had separated from the main flight were still scouring for the helicopter that they had buzzed on their approach. Suddenly, they spotted a shape on the ground, but it was merely a stray horse, so the robots continued on. As they crested a group of hills, they spotted the unmistakeable form a a chopper about 3 km away. Boosting all power to their engines, the robots rapidly closed with the helicopter, desiring nothing more than to blow it out of the sky.

Dropping back to the foot of the stairs to the roof the Phallanxain troopers kept up a wall of fire making sure nobody came down, however they made sure they were spread out so as not to be grenade bait.

It didn't take long for the position to become untenable and the Phallanxians began to retreat back down the building in good order. 68 out of the original 80 soliders too enter the building made it back to the ground floor.

Outside the 3 remaining empty dropships came in to pick up the troopers braving a hail of automatic weapons fire from the rooftop and the windows of the Srundos house.

All the troopers managed to board the Dropships which now riddled with bullet impacts and overloaded only just made it out of the city before landing and waiting for pickup.

OOC: Haven't looked at this in a couple days, I'm afraid. Glad to know it's still alive. Unfortunately, I have a hard time remembering who's on my side. I know Blargistania is helping me, and that Olvinyard (whatever happened to him) is against me, or should I say, against the Srundos. Other than that, my memory has failed...

IC:

The pilot of the helicopter announced, rather anxiously, that he was getting blips on his radar. They remembered seeing the fighters pass by them not long ago; though they knew those craft were operated by their enemies, neither the pilot or anyone else had been able to guess why they had not been shot at. However, it now appeared that they weren't going to get a second chance; they could either flee, fight, or die.

"Sir," said the pilot, "we have no large air-to-air missiles on this bird. All there is are machine guns and countermeasures. I would suggest using our Diffusion and Cloud countermeasures. Diffusion works by ejecting metal shavings from the helicopter to confuse the radar of our enemies. Cloud is basically a glorified contrail; it produces condensation so that we cannot be seen. All this is in theory, of course. In practice, they don't work as well. It's better than doing nothing, though."

"Very well," nodded Alaru. "We're near to the base, anyway. We should actually make it before they catch up to us. My greatest fear is that they will follow us to the bunker. Hopefully, these countermeasures will keep them from doing that."

The pilot fired the two countermeasures, Diffusion first, then Cloud. They noticed an increase in the helicopter's speed after the weight was released. After several more minutes of flying, the pilot landed the helicopter in an average-looking field that did not at all look like it had a huge underground base beneath it. They hustled to a tree on the side of the field, and Alaru touched his right index finger on one of the knots on the trunk. As if on a hinge, the entire tree swung away to reveal a hole under the trunk. The escapees scurried down the ladder...

Nel glanced around the decrepit room. It was all he could afford in this city, and not only because he was sending the lion's share of the money he made to his mother. The city was an expensive place to live in, something he had never appreciated until being in this cash-strapped position.

He looked in the cracked mirror one last time, to make sure his appearance was satisfactory. He had lost some weight, he realized. Little could be done about that, unless this interview he was about to go to went all right.

He left the apartment and walked along the streets, his mood darkening as he saw a limousine drive past him. That had been himself, such a short time ago. Now, at the age of fifteen, his days in the upper crust were over. Over... A tugging on his pant leg pulled him out of his reverie.

"Could you spare some money?" the sitting man, obviously homeless, asked. Nel wasn't sure why he he said the words he did next. Perhaps the sight of the limousine had gone to his head, or heart.

"Why should I help you? I have a decent job, and I don't have the time or money to bother with lazy street dogs like you!"

He turned on his heel and walked faster. After a moment, he turned back around, feeling regret for acting so cold. But the man was gone.

***

Nel walked out of the factory. The interview had gone well, he knew it. He should soon have a night job here, which would earn him slightly better wages than he was currently getting with his day work. Working at a factory, unskilled, manual labor, was something he would never have considered even a couple months ago, but when one fell from the high class, one's expectations and demands fell, too. He would be willing to sacrifice his pride, health, and any spare time for a chance to make more money these days...

Bump and note on the technology in the above post:

I hope the countermeasures described above don't qualify as "godmodding". It is my RP, however...

Anyway, I will further explain and defend them. Diffusion is the strangest one, and probably the most implausible. I imagined the shavings to be small, so that they would be buffeted by the winds at 20,000 feet for awhile, which would keep them from falling too fast. However, it doesn't take too much metal to create a very heavy load. This weight is a problem...

I'm not too sure about Cloud. I have my doubts as to whether a chopper could possibly create anything like a contrail. It was intended to be a thing like what a fog machine might make, a large discharge of mist (consensation, in this case).

The tree portal that Alaru activated is, obviously, not a real tree. It was a fake one, but expertly crafted to look as real as possible (meaning it was probably quite expensive). In the knot, there was a sensor that read fingerprints. Only Alaru and his most trusted officials had access. The tree trunk really did turn on a sort of hinge, but very well hidden. It would be almost impossible for an untrained eye to notice the tree was even fake, much less that it could move at the base.

All these examples of Illennian technology demonstrate the traditional mindset of the Illennians: the organic is superior to the mechanic. The Diffusion countermeasure parallels the ink cloud made in the water by an escaping octopus, and Cloud resembles, well, clouds. The tree entrance is an obvious homage to the organic. As one can see, Illennians would reject such technology as robot fighters, which are the epitome of mechanization, unless absolutely necessary. I imagine them as not having such mechanic technology as helicopters and the like until recently in their history, when they opened up to the rest of the world.

In closing, I must say that the technology above was thought up on the spot, which is most likely the reason for its implausibility. I am not extremely good at military RPs, prefering to tell stories (especially when I know quite a bit about the subject matter, as is not the case here). I did not expect this RP to become so militarized, but that seems to be the norm on NationStates.

However, this isn't real life, anyway. If it was, my technology wouldn't be the only thing in this RP that would be considered infeasible...

OOC: I think almost all of my technology would be infeasable. Just as a note, I'm fighting the Sundros. That, and I'll be more than willing to go along with countermeasures.

IC: The robots suddenly found themselves in the middle of a huge cloud of metal shards. They didn't do much, except make a few scratches in their thick, titanium hides. It did render their radar useless, which didn't affect them much, they could still see the chopper. Then, they were suddenly inside of a massive cloud that rendered all vision useless. Making matters worse, they still were having problems with their radars. No matter, they simply switched to their heat-vision. By now, the helicopter had sped up a good amount and was decending. Yuri (the man who monitors the squads movements) cursed again. His prey was about to escape him again! As if they were being toyed with, the helicopter suddenly vanished from heat-sensors. Yuri, now so angry that he couldn't think straight, ordered the squad to go on full throttle. They shot right over where the helicopter had decended to and then banked back. By the time they arrived, they spotted some people running along the ground. Yuri grinned. He loved watching these things strafe other people. Suddenly, a man in the group touched a tree, which swung open. Yuri blinked in shock and ordered the robots to enter hover mode. They sat watching as the people scrambled down a hole in the base of the tree. Yuri's grin suddenly turned sadistic.
"So, the rabbit runs into his hole. I think it's time for the snake to follow him." He contacted his commanders with his idea, then decided to have a beer. Leaning back, he smiled at his plan.

A few minutes later, five dropships, loaded with GCR's fresh from Alexzandria, were headed in the direction of the odd tree. Arriving in the area, they recieved their objectives and were ordered to find the tree and gain access. It wasn't long before they found it and, with little subtlety, tore the tree door off it's hinges and leapt down the hole.

Sorry I didn't reply earlier, NS was pissing on itself ot my house.
As another OOC note, the BDI rifle Brent has uses a .50 caliber thermite tipped shell. So unless the helmets are equipped to withstand 50,000 degrees of heat, the guy would be dead, but I didn't mention that so I'll let it go.

IC:
The man Brent had targeted looked up to see who shot at him, which proved to be his fatal mistake. Brent watched with some satisfaction as the guy's face was turned into pulp. As Brent watched, a dropship came spiraling in and picked up the rest of the squad hiding behind the metal chunk. They began to rise up, pulling out of the conflict zone. As they went up, Brent noticed a gunport fill with a rifle. He snappe off a quick shot but missed, then rolled as fast as he could. The man fired, and the bullet meant for his neck grazed his head, cutting open the side. Brent fell to the ground in pain as heat shot through his brain. The wound was not fatal, he knew, but it hurt like hell.

Several minutes later, Brent rolled to his knees and tore off part of his shirt. He tied it around his head to staunch the flow of blood. Still slightly disoriented, he found his rifle. Picking it up, he went to the ledge again and started shooting at the GCRs as fast as he could pull the trigger and reload.

OOC: i'm supporting the government forces

IC:
The Phallanxian troopes who landed outside the city were later picked up by dropships from the Phallanxian carrier.

The whole force returned to the carrier to rearm and head back out into the city. the soliders had traded in their MA6B battle rifles for the older but more powerful M2 tactical warfare rifle loaded with 5.56mm AP tipped rounds, the M124 light machine guns were traded for the M126 GPMG loaded with 7.62mm tungsten carbide tipped rounds. every man carried a .50 calibre handgun with AP rounds and the snipers replaced their rifles for the massive 20mm AM610 Anti material rifle firing sabot rounds.

500 troopers headed back into the city with the support of gunships to secure the Srundos house.

The robots weren't being bothered so much by their enemies sudden retreat, but by the fact that a sniper was still loose. They had managed to capture a picture of him, but that didn't do much, just give them a face and name identified by that face. He had been shooting at them earlier, but they had managed to scare him off with a few warning shots. They still had their air support over the city, along with another 500 fresh troopers, AGAF-1's (Arial Ground Attack Fighter-Mk.1's), AA-GCAR-1's (Anti-Air Ground Combat Armored Robot-Mk.1's) and AAr-GCAR-1's (Anit-Armor Ground Combat Armored Robot-Mk. 1's). They were well covered now, almost nothing could challenge their hold on the city. Nothing... except maybe the 500 Phallanxians approaching them.

OOC: unfortunatly i'm going on holiday for a week starting tomorrow so this will be my last post for a while.

The first Phallanxian gunships came into a storm of gunfire which pinged off their armoured hulls before opening up on the robot positions with a storm of 30mm DU tipped rounds, 10 Gunships each mounting 4 GAU8 Eliminator cannons firing 6000 rounds per minute.

The Dropships had moved in under the fire of the gunships deploying troopers onto the surrounding buildings with a height advantage over the Srundos house to pour fire down onto the robots positions. Another 300 troopers deployed on the ground level to move through the streets to the Srundos house with the support of light weapons vehicles and 4 STRYKER IFV's, 2 mounting 25mm cannons and TOW missiles and 2 mounting 105mm AT cannons.

OOC: I'm going away for a while too. I don't know for how long, but right now I'm looking at a week or so.

IC: The air support hadn't reacted fast enough, and already the Phallanxians were beginning to make a foothold around the manor! In response, the GCR's all ran up to one side of the building and began pouring gattling cannon fire into the masses of Phallanxians. Along with this, the Hydras (the AA-GCAR-1's) began to fountain lead in two directions. Some blasting at the pesky gunships, while others lended their weight against the infantry nearby. Also amongst those gunning at the infantry were the Thunderhawks (the AGAF-1's) and the Gladiators (the AAr-GCAR-1's). Above, the ACR-2's dove again at their foe, eager to now have some real opponents who could actually fight back.

AM: Don't RP for my character, its a godmod and its not polite. I will decide what he does.

OOC: I have very little time because of school so I will be posting infrequently.

OOC: I godmodded again?! Crap. Where did that happen?

The robots weren't being bothered so much by their enemies sudden retreat, but by the fact that a sniper was still loose. They had managed to capture a picture of him, but that didn't do much, just give them a face and name identified by that face. He had been shooting at them earlier, but they had managed to scare him off with a few warning shots. They still had their air support over the city, along with another 500 fresh troopers, AGAF-1's (Arial Ground Attack Fighter-Mk.1's), AA-GCAR-1's (Anti-Air Ground Combat Armored Robot-Mk.1's) and AAr-GCAR-1's (Anit-Armor Ground Combat Armored Robot-Mk. 1's). They were well covered now, almost nothing could challenge their hold on the city. Nothing... except maybe the 500 Phallanxians approaching them.

Bolding courtesy of me.

You RP your robots shooting at my guy, I RP his reaction. Not serious, but still, watch out for those.

The heavy fire from the robots positions did as little damage to the Phallanxian troops as the 4000 30mm DU rounds per second that the gunships fired at the building did to the robots.

The soliders began to fire down from the high ground into the robot positions with AP ammo and anti tank weapons also up at the robot fighters with shoulder mounted AA missiles.

The IFV's on the ground used their heavy weapons to stand off and provide covering fire for the troops moving through cover down the streets.

OOC: Thanks, BLARG. I'll try to never do that again. Sorry again.

IC: It was amazing how little effect their fire was having on the Phallanxians, thought GCR-L-115. They had been pouring autocannon, battle cannon and heavy missle fire into their ranks and still they came on. The Thunderhawks began to hose them down with their own gattling cannons, but it seemed to have little effect. Suddenly, a new command came in: CHARGE. The GCR's knew immediatley what they must do. Boosting all extra power to it's legs, GCR-L-115 entered a run that would've put an olympic sprinter to shame. All around it, the rest of the GCR's were running at about the same pace. As they advanced, the Thunderhawks began firing napalm into the Phallanxians. Mere seconds from the enemy, they kicked their blood coated chainsaws into action once again. The sound of their roars echoed throughout the city as they slammed into the Phallanxians line.

As the robots ran down the street the troopers on the rooftops fired down into them. the TOW's and 105mm cannon shells were also slamming into the charging line

The first line of Phallanxian soliders were cut down by the charging robots but the troopers were well spread out as the first line was cut down the second opened up at almost point black range with AP rounds a storm of metal cut into the robots.

GCR-L-115 preverbially blinked in surprise. It's troopers were being cut down left and right from soldiers on the rooftops and on their flanks. They had been expecting anti-human weaponry, not this anti-armor stuff. Shaking it off, it moved on, squishing a dead Phallanxians head in the process. The Thunderhawks were now blasting at the rooftop troopers and the Hydras and Gladiators were ripping at the flanking men. More ATR's were settling down outside the city as now thousands of GCR's ammassed to sweep in and completely consume the Phallanxians. Also inbound were many more ACR's and Thunderhawks, but some were instead targeting the Phallanxian fleet. As the final ATR's lifted off and headed back to Alexzandria to get more troopers, the amassed 5,000 GCR's began to march into the city.

In response to requests for help the Phallanxian 3rd and 8th carrier battle groups were tasked to deploy to the region within the next 12 hours bringing with them over 1200 fighter aircraft and 30,000 soliders including 2 armoured divisions.

On the streets the Soliders began a disciplined retreat back towards the pickup points on the ground moving in groups they covered each other until they were picked up. The soliders on the rooftops had already been evacuated back to the carrier.