NationStates Jolt Archive

Henry Stahlecker, governor-general of Western Sahara, speaking via the Western Saharan Commonwealth News Network, stated:

"Afrikaans and Portuguese, being languages spoken by at least seventy percent of our population, are hereby elevated to the level of importance of English, and they will now be considered legal official languages. Furthermore, all blacks or arabs that wish to attend school, may only be taught in Portuguese or Afrikaans, as they already know English it would benefit them to learn a second or third language. I myself fluently speak over fifteen languages, a nig--r should be able to handle at least two languages. Any nig--rs who refuse to make an attempt to learn Afrikaans or Portuguese, will be detained and/or fined twenty dollars a day until they make an attempt to learn."




Shortly after the decree, reports were coming in of riots in Western Sahara's notorious "East Stahlecker Township"


One of the local black leaders had his fist raised in the air as he stood on top of a burnt out wreck of a police car that had been firebombed a few days ago, violence was rife in East Stahlecker and most white police refused to enter unless the situation was dire. He was shouting into a bullhorn, "Are we gonna learn the devil's language!" A crowd of about ten thousand blacks had gathered, in unison they started screaming, "No!"

The man shouted into the bullhorn again, "I say fuck the white man! Kill them all! If they're white, kill them all! The time for talk and the time for peace, that's over! Kill the devils!" He continued to speak for over thirty minutes, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

The police inside Stahlecker City had already dispatched a riot control force as they could sense the situation was getting out of control

As he was just finishing pumping the crowd up with the last few minutes of his impromptu speech, two hundred white police arrived at the edge of the township, near where the rally was going on.

Immediately the police came under barrage from bricks, bottles, and pieces of concrete... Suddenly the sounds of gunfire drowned out the sounds of bricks impacting against police cars. The black crowds started scurrying away from the main street intersection as the white police officers emptied their M-14B rifles into the crowds, firing away indiscriminately.

One of the police officers sent a three round burst into the back of a black man as he was trying to jump a fence to escape the area. The man collapsed down as a stream of blood flew from his back and chest.

Another police unit released forty German shepherd attack dogs against the crowd, the dogs rushed in from the other side as the police closed in on the left, the dogs attacked on the right. The crowd was pushed between the guns and clubs of the police and the jaws of the dogs.

Suddenly, from the rear of the police line, a surge of black youths with improvised clubs, mostly brown fence posts with twisted nails, rushed into the police line, knocking down, maiming, and killing police by the dozens, taking their rifles and turning them on the other police who were as yet unaware of what was going on.

Within two hours, the bodies of over fifty police and twelve hundred black protestors littered the streets of the township main street where the rally had been going on.

In Stahlecker City, the rebuilt 3rd Republican Guard Armored Division was ordered to move the Recon company and 6 mechanized infantry companies into the edge of the township to probe the area and ascertain what was going on.

(Actually it’s understrength, partially rebuilt with 1 mechanized infantry brigade and 1 armored regiment, 1 AA company, 1 AT company, 1 Recon company, 1 support regiment, and 1 artillery battalion, rather than the full strength of 3 mechanized infantry brigades, 1 armored brigade, 4 AA comapnies, 5 AT companies, 5 recon companies, 4 support regiments, 6 artillery battalions)

The task had been left to Colonel Miguel Antonio Salazar, recently promoted from captain, a very rapid promotion, being bumped above major and lieutenant colonel to get to colonel right away.

Approximately 100 BMPs from the mechanized infantry units started to roll towards East Stahlecker Township, as twenty Eland MK-7s from the recon company moved out with them.


Added: Nobody really knows this riot is going, we keep the media out of places when we crush riots. Granted there are a few foreign reporters in Western Sahara (The first time in about ten years!) but they will certainly not be allowed inside the township when we crush the riot. If somebody wants to try the role of one of the reporters, TG or IM me, note the reporters are not going to be treated well when they're removed (our soldiers and police, especially the secret police and internal security police, really beat the crap out of most foreign reporters, and often domestic reporters from the opposition media, when they are hustling them out of an area)

bump for the night, more to come later.

bump for the morning, update later this evening. Check around 4-5 pm eastern.

You all do know there are a few roles open, reporters caught in Stahlecker Township, IM or TG me if interested.

Ooc- Anybody, come on, surely somebody must want to be a media figure?

I will gladly send troops to help put the riots down

I will gladly send troops to help put the riots down



Ooc- No, that role is mine. :)

Awesome.

*Tag*

OOC: I'll have a reporter crew in there.

1 reporter
1 cameraman
1 contact

If that is okay.

OOC: I'll have a reporter crew in there.

1 reporter
1 cameraman
1 contact

If that is okay.


Ooc- Okay, but we block all live transmissions when things don't go our way. So they're getting it all, but onto tapes, okay?

OOC: Tapes sound good.

Atani was talking steadily from where he was crouching watching the riot ensue. "Hyannanya are you getting this?"

The small dark man beside her simply whistled as he taped the carnage before him.

Later...
In their hotel room Atani and Hyannanya poured over the tape when Atani stretched and said. "Alright tomorrow I'm going under cover as black woman to see what else I can learn."

"Come on now you're not even that dark you could be mistaken for white." Hyannanya said rather forcefully preparing himself for the verbal wrestling match to come.

"Yeah but I'm the only woman here." Atani collapsed tired from this horrendous day. Hyannanya grinned he'd gone for two days without getting yelled at. He was on a role.

John Nikipodilis was a news reporter fro the HNN which is one of the biggest media corporation in Greece. He has been send to Western Sahara to report of the troubles happening there one of the few troubles was with the Muslims and the other with the slave rebellion. But things have been quieting down a bit and HNN wasn’t too happy about it. But now one of his sources told him that there was a huge riot happening in the East Stahlecker. The truck was going over the speed limit to get to the riot.

“Are we almost there Kosta?” said John.

“Ya where just a few minutes away.” Answered back the cameraman, Kosta.

“This is going to be a hit. We should be excepting to get a pay raise.”

Kosta parked the truck near the riot area. They both came out and unloaded all the equipment from the back of the truck. They headed toward the riot place.

“Get the camera recording.”

“Alright. We are now recording.”

(OOC: This isn’t live. Its going to be recorded then sent to HNN.)

“This is HNN reporting to you and I am John Nikipodilis. Behind me lie many bodies of dead blacks and Mississippian police officers. The riot started after the declaration from Henry Stahlecker, governor-general of Western Sahara that the blacks here should learn to speak a second language. If they did not try they will be detained and fined 20$ a day. The blacks in this area protested against this but soon turned violent as the police came in here and fire on them and releasing German shepherds on them.”

In East Stahlecker Township, the first of the BMPs arrived and Colonel Salazar jumped out the back of one, in full RG battle uniform, body armor, and kevlar helmet. He was clutching his AKS-74U tight up against his chest (BMP infantry often use AKS-74Us with folding stocks when in cramped quarters)

He immediately unloaded a few rounds at a group of stone-throwing blacks, sending four of them down dead and the rest fleeing for their lives.

At the edge of the township, the seven Mechanized Infantry companies of 3rd RG Div were deploying and readying to sweep through four blocks of the township to clear out the most violent of the rioters. It was going to be a tough fight ahead of them.

The men fixed bayonets and readied to move out. Some of the men already on the scene, Commonwealth Police and Commonwealth Reserves, were armed with Fn-Fals, M-14Bs, and G-3 rifles.

One of the men sweeped his AKM with a 100 round drum across the street, back and forth, mowing down no less than forty blacks, mostly teenagers throwing stones at a group of Eland MK-7 Light Armored Vehicles.



A few of the reporters were nearby as this was going on. One of the RG soldiers turned, his eyes burning with hatred and rage, as he cocked his AKS-74U and shouted at the Camel Eater reporter, "Give me the fucking tape in that camera, right now, or you can join the blacks!"

bump for the reporters to do something...

John noticed a Mississippian shouting at a Camel eaters reporter.

“I guess we aren’t welcomed here. Anyways we got enough on tape. Come on lets get out of here before they start pointing guns at us too.” Said John

“Good thinking.” Said Kosta the cameraman.

Kosta stopped the camera from recording and took out the tape. He put the tape in a case and put it in his bag with the camera too.

The truck is parked somewhere around this block. The reporter and the cameraman started walking fast toward the truck.

The RG soldier motioned for his buddies to follow him, six RG infantrymen, each armed with an AKS-74U ran after the NTG reporters, the squad leader was shouting, "Give me the fucking tape!"

“Keep running. We may be able to make it in time for the truck and I doubt they will try to shoot us if they don’t want trouble with Greece.”

“Alright the truck is around this corner.”

As they run around the corner the truck came in sight.

“Come on take the keys out them will be here any seconds now.”

“I am searching for them.”

He searched his keys through his pockets when he found them. He went to place them in the keyhole of the door but it was already to late the Mississippian soldiers caught them.

OOC:You know you can use your XM8s I sold you in cramped quarters to, just by putting on the smaller barrel and a different stock, you can switch it to the compact carbine varient, which is about as small as an AKS74u.

IC:

DLBC journalist Rob Jenkins, an ex-marine of forty, heavily muscled, and nearly seven feet tall, switched on his camera, and turned toward the riot.

"Hehehe, this is f***in' gold! I'll make a bundle off this sh*t," he muttered to himself, not even worried in the slightest. He had his sidearm, after all.

DA, could I RP some Roach-Buster reporters in DA (or, even better, some of the black rioters)?

OOC: Mind if I send a small camera crew?

Can I send a Republic News Network crew over.

Ooc- Eladnor and Roach Busters may RP having media in there. They are the last to be approved, the slots for media are now full. Remember, that we block all live transmissions, so they have to be recording onto tapes.



Ooc- Doomingsland, I can guarantee you, the RG is better than the marines. Well our RG is better than our Marines... Not sure how yours rank.

Ic- Rob Jenkins suddenly found himself with ten AKS-74Us trained on him as the squad leader of the RG unit surrounding him smiled, "Ah sir, give me the tape..."


The NTG reporters suddenly found themselves facing at least six AKS-74Us, a man spat tobacco juice before saying, "The tape or your life..."

OOC:No, more likely equal or better, my marines go through a sh*t load of training, they are chosen at the age of six to be marines. I think I might have some more OICW type weapons that may interest you...

"Oh, hey there, fellas'..." he said with a smile, removing the tape, and tossing it to the squad leader.

At the same time, he'd sneakily removed a small USB memory stick used to store info, which now contained the information on the camera.

John stepped out in front of the leader.

“You know we can negotiate. I am from Greece and as you probably know we are allied with you guys. So why the hell do you care if we report back to our people what’s happening here? Anyways before you do anything I would like to see the ambassador at the Greek Embassy in Western Sahara which is in Stahlecker City.”

OOC:No, more likely equal or better, my marines go through a sh*t load of training, they are chosen at the age of six to be marines. I think I might have some more OICW type weapons that may interest you...

"Oh, hey there, fellas'..." he said with a smile, removing the tape, and tossing it to the squad leader.

At the same time, he'd sneakily removed a small USB memory stick used to store info, which now contained the information on the camera.


Ooc- The RG are genetically enhanced at birth, and start training around age 8, until age 18-22. Their training consists of actual combat patrols and COIN campaigns around ages 16-17. Most RG officers never finished highschool with their class, they graduate later and then go to officer training college. When their classes are graduating high school, they're in Western Sahara on anti-insurgent patrols, or they're rolling out of a fast rubber boat to attack terrorist shipping lanes. Or they're jumping from a C-130 to deploy into the jungles of some hellhole nation.


Ic- The sergeant smiled before he unloaded his AK into the man's camera and then shouted, "Empty your pockets! Now!"

OOC:Yeah, my guys stop training about that time, so they should technically be equal, they don't really get much education other than how to kill, but they learn basic stuff, like math, english, bomb making... My Doom Legionaries, on the other hand, are genetic clones of the emperor, enhanced and such, and begin training at the age of four, and go until about twenty two. In the mean time, they spend their pass time going on insurgency missions to countries of interest, or hunting convicts for sport. The only schooling they recieve is how to kill people, how to speak the languages of enemy countries, and other stuff that would help you in the field.

IC:

The journalist chuckled to himself,

"Crazy Mississipians, always wasting perfectly good ammo on inanimate objects." he chuckled to the pissed looking sergeant.

He emptied his pockets, his wallet fell to the ground, as well as family pictures, a map, his passport, but not the data stick. He had hid that in a special concealed pocket. His sidearm, a Springfield 1911 (one he'd killed with several times before), was on a shoulder holster. He expected to be patted down next, and quietly brought a tiny remote control from one of his sleeves. The remote was tied to a brick of C4, embedded in his jacket...

ooc- Can't i send in a freelance , non government sponsored, team?

Aiwendil Tyaro and her cameraman Lingwilókë Wingë had been sent by EPN to get a report on what was happening in Western Sahara. They were pretty sure they'd hit gold.

"We rolling?" Aiwendil asked her cameraman. He nodded. She took a deep breath and began talking as her partner got shots of what was happening behind them.

"Aiwendil Tyaro reporting from East Stahlecker Township in Western Sahara where a riot just occurred. Behind me are the bodies of Missipian police and the black rioters.

As you can see, a brutal fight has happened here, probably the result of the new decree that these blacks must attempt to learn another language or recieve a fine of twenty dollars per day until they start learning another language. It is quite obvious that the people of this township were not happy about this and rebelled. More on this situation later."

(OOC: Thanks for letting me join, DA :))

The RBNN (Roach-Busters National News) correspondent squatted behind a barbed wire fence, whipped out his notepad, and began frantically scribbling notes as quickly as he feasibly could before the Mississippians noticed him. He knew he would be put through living hell should he be detected doing this. However, being the repulsive and greedy son of a b**** he was, he considered the risks irrelevant. His interest in the potential profit (the network would pay a killing for his story) far exceeded his fear of what the Mississippians would do to him.
He watched as black rioters tossed bricks, spiked balls, balloons filled with blood, urine, and other body fluids, rocks, and glass bottles at the Mississippians. The two opposing sides both screamed degrading, racist insults at each other, which instigated further bloodshed.
"Down with the white man! The white man is the scourge of the earth! Brothers and sisters, rise with me to liberate our beautiful mother earth from the white man! F*** the white man!" screamed one of the leading rioters.
More stone-tossing ensued, as the Mississippians, bombarded with a flurry of hard objects, had no choice but to resort to firing upon the crowd in self-defense. Bullets whizzed through the air, spraying blood everywhere. A few bullets hit store windows, disintegrating them and causing shimmering fragments of glass to clatter to the ground. One man tried running, but cut his foot on a piece of glass and began bleeding profusely. He fell to his knees, cursing.
Oh, sh**, the journalist thought, as hordes of panicked blacks began scrambling toward the fence he was hiding behind. Those bastards are going to find me!
"Eat lead, n*****s" bellowed a trigger-happy Mississippian police officer, firing indiscriminately at the crowd, gunning down dozens of people at random, indifferent to the mess he was making.
Damn, what a bunch of animals, the journalist thought. Both sides are nothing but a bunch of savage!
A black scurried over the fence, lost his balance, and collapsed onto the journalist, ramming his knee into his face, dislocating the lower hinge of his jaw, loosening several teeth, and causing him to explosively spew blood all over the ground. The black grunted in pain, clutched his swollen knee, and kept running.
"Mike, you getting all this?" he asked the cameraman.
"Yeah, I'm getting it, I just need to-"
The cameraman was interrupted in mid-sentence when a battle-hardened, work-grimed, iron-hard fist flew at him from behind, colliding into the back of his head with colossal impact and sending him sprawling to the ground. He was out cold. The camera clattered to the ground and broke.
"Damn," the journalist muttered, but that was the least of his worries. He and the unconscious cameraman were both yanked roughly to their feet by Mississippian officers.
"I think you've seen too much, bud," the Mississippian said ruefully. "Sorry, but you brought this on yourself."

(OOC:
A)How was that?
B)Was that godmoding/modding? If so, I'll edit it)

Hyannanya rememered how that RG had shouted at him. And he'd handed over the tape but it was a damn good thing that he'd learned how to conceal two or even three tapes in the same camcorder all recording at the same time.

Atani walked in her arm had a few cuts on it. Hyannanya looked up and said hi but she just kept walking. She went into the bathroom. The sound of retching and washing was rather audible as she emerged.

"These people eat the worst food on the face of the earth. But at least I found out were the next protest will be." She lay on the floor completely naked and began to meditate.

"Eat lead, you degenerate bastards!" bellowed a trigger-happy Mississippian police officer,(OOC:
A)How was that?
B)Was that godmoding/modding? If so, I'll edit it)


Ooc-

Only wrong here, we don't call them degenerate bastards, that implies that they would be better if they were of better birth and born in wedlock. I think the soldiers would shout, "Protest this you worthless nig--rs!"

And the blacks would be shouting about "The white devils! Fuck the white man! Death to the white man! Kill whitey!"

((OOC: How was it, though?))

The entire 3rd RG Armored Division was now deployed in Eastern Stahlecker Township. The unit was understrength and stood at about 5,000 RG Panzer Grenadiers and a few hundred tanks and at most a thousand Infantry Fighting Vehicles and assorted recon vehicles and Fast Attack Vehicles.

The soldiers were fighting against at least fifty thousand blacks armed with a variety of weapons, ranging from slings and clubs, to zip guns, to AKMs and SKS rifles.


The use of heavy artillery had been approved and those media still in possession of cameras, could see horrible sights as 255mm and 155mm shells impacted down against the residents of the township. People blown into thousands of pieces and shell craters twenty feet across left by the massive barrage of often point-blank artillery fire.

The reporters suddenly noticed that all of the RG soldiers stopped firing and quickly went into the "chemical code black" mode, they were hastily putting their NBC suits and gas masks on... Something serious was about to happen.

"We'd better get out of here. I have a feeling they might tear gas the negroes," Aiwendil told Lingwilókë, who nodded, and the two made their way quickly back to the small gray van they kept the equipment it. Lingwilókë stowed the stuff in the back while Aiwendil took the driver's seat. As soon as her partner jumped in the front seat, she started driving away from the town.

Suddenly eight Su-25 Frogfoot ground-attack aircraft flew in low over the township, they each had two 500lb bombs of GB (Sarin nerve gas)


In a streak of white light and a flash from the bombs exploding in the air, the reporters in the distance could zoom in with their cameras and see hundreds of the rioting blacks spasm and collapse down dead.


The white RG forces halted their advance long enough for the artillery to lay down a barrage of mustard gas (HD Blister Agent), the heavy thick clouds were carried into the interior of the township, causing horrible injuries to no less than 1/3 of all the townships occupants, at least 1/10 of those injured by the HD agent would die over the next few weeks.

(OOC: DA, could you RP what happens to my journalist?)

Out of the corner of her eye, Aiwendil saw the explosion and stopped the car.

"Get out the camera!" she shouted at her partner, who was already grabbing the equipment out of the back. The cameraman started filming.

"Aiwendil Tyaro here. I'm standing a bit away from the town where the rioting occurred. It appears that nerve gas of some sort has been brought in. Hundreds of negroes in the town were just killed. It also appears that huge clouds of gas are rising. More later."

(OOC: DA, could you RP what happens to my journalist?)


Ooc- I don't usually like to RP others, characters. But since you have my men Rped as knocking them down...


Ic-


About ten minutes later, both of the RB journalists woke up inside a BMP-3, they were restrained with handcuffs and blindfolded. Their blindfolds were removed after a few minutes and an RG captain chuckled at them, "So, how long have you two been spies? Do you know what we do to spies in our nation?"

Ooc- I don't usually like to RP others, characters. But since you have my men Rped as knocking them down...


Ic-


About ten minutes later, both of the RB journalists woke up inside a BMP-3, they were restrained with handcuffs and blindfolded. Their blindfolds were removed after a few minutes and an RG captain chuckled at them, "So, how long have you two been spies? Do you know what we do to spies in our nation?"

"W-We're not spies!" the journalist, an unrepentant coward, blabbered. "I'm a journalist! I simply came here to report the news!"

OOC: Will anything happen to my reporters, or do they just drive away?

OOC:Well, since you didn't RP searching my guy anymore, I'll assume they left after he emptied his pockets.

Jenkins watched the RGs put on their NBC gear,

Oh, shit. They're gassing the place. Time to get the hell outa dodge.

He ran away from the riot, and turned just in time to see the SU25s rake the crowd with gas.

Hmmm, we gotta' try that at least once, alot cleaner than using a friggin' flame tank and .50 caliber machineguns.

He headed to his hotel, and into his room, where he would e-mail the data home...

OOC: Will anything happen to my reporters, or do they just drive away?



The Eldanorian reporters drove for a few minutes until they came upon a Commonwealth checkpoint which had been setup by a platoon of the WSSAAS (Western Sahara Special Air Assault Squads, don't mess with these guys!) There were twenty-nine WSSAAS and their lieutenant present at the checkpoint. A string of razor wire had been run across the road and four soldiers had their OICWs trained on the approaching car.

The lieutenant motioned with his hand for them to slow down and stop, pointing for them to pull off to the side of the road.

"Just our luck," Aiwendil muttered as she slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. She rolled down the window and asked, "Anything wrong?"

He headed to his hotel, and into his room, where he would e-mail the data home...


Ooc- My nation is like China, we have the internet on such tight controls... In China, no sites can be seen unless they are government approved, and only certain people with licenses can have computers, and they monitor all internet activities. It's awful because it's a marxist system, if it was right-wing, it'd be sweet! (Download the communist manifesto, get tossed into prison or a labor unit, it's like a dream come true what can be done today with technology!) LOL!

"Just our luck," Aiwendil muttered as she slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. She rolled down the window and asked, "Anything wrong?"


The lieutenant shouldered his rifle hard and shouted, "Out of the car, now! All of you, out now! On the fucking ground!"

He opened the door and yanked the driver out as the passenger was ripped out by two other operatives. The rest of the squad at this part of the checkpoint kept them covered the entire time.

The lieutenant threw the woman down on the ground and started searching her, he made it a point to slide his hands into her pants as he patted down her buttocks area. He then slid his hands down her legs and pulled out the pockets of her pants, he took her shoes and socks off to check in them, he ripped the pockets of her coat apart as he searched through there. He finally pushed her down harder into the ground with his boot in her back as he shouted, "Why are you coming from the township! Travel is banned there!"

The man was being kicked senseless as two of the MSAAS were on either side of him, they'd started to beat him after he resisted being searched.

"W-W-W-What do you d-do to spies?" the journalist whimpered. "N-Not that we're spies, or anything, but w-w-what do you do?"

"I'll be willing to tell you if you'll get the hell off me! That happens to hurt!"

Atani and Hyannanya had been monitoring the activity during the fighting they saw the soldiers prepping to gas the place and pulled on gas masks. Hyannanya took out a clearing lense to help pierce the noxious fog.

OOC: yes gas masks are standard issue for my reporters.

Atani and Hyannanya had been monitoring the activity during the fighting they saw the soldiers prepping to gas the place and pulled on gas masks. Hyannanya took out a clearing lense to help pierce the noxious fog.

OOC: yes gas masks are standard issue for my reporters.



Ooc- Gas masks won't save you from Nerve Agent, it gets in through the skin. One pin prick of VX gas on the skin will kill within 60 seconds to a few minutes (we used Sarin though, which is about 1/5th or so as deadly as VX, but still very deadly. Do they carry anti-sarin auto-injectors of atropine-oxime? The "Combopens")


IC- The RG continued to move through the area as the gas clouds started to carry passed the townships to the east and out into the uninhabited rural regions.

"W-W-W-What do you d-do to spies?" the journalist whimpered. "N-Not that we're spies, or anything, but w-w-what do you do?"


The man smiled, "We hang them, and as they are hanging, we take a razor and slice off their privates... Then we smear tar on their bodies, and as they are still alive, because it takes usually twenty minutes to die from hanging, we set them ablaze... Spying includes unauthorized picture taking, and attempts to smuggle banned media out of the nation... All media must be run by the government first for approval for either domestica broadcast or export to a foreign nation."

"I'll be willing to tell you if you'll get the hell off me! That happens to hurt!"


The lieutenant leaned down and handcuffed her hands behind her back and pulled her up by her cuffed hands, causing her a deal of pain. He threw her against the side of the car and shouted, "Start talking! Spy!"

Aiwendil issued a slight squeal of pain as she was thrown against the car.

"I'm not a spy, simply a reporter. And I would really appreciate if you wouldn't treat my partner or I so roughly."

Hyannanya noticed something horrible "That's... sarin... gas." He pulled Atani back as she began to convulse.

Once they were in a safe area Hyannanya pulled out the toxin clearant. He stepped back as the toxins in her system exited out of the nearest orifice. When the purge was done Hyannanya pulled the portable chem-shower out of the bag. He stripped Atani and sprinkled her with the white dust and began pouring the extra water all over her. Once he had rubbed it into her skin she coughed up a huge amount of phglem.

She had changed into a new set of clothes and was searching the bag for an anti-nerve agent. She found it and applied the needle directly into her skin like the package said. They prepared agian and entered the thinning gas.

Ooc- Camel Eaters, you need to talk to me about how anti-chemical warfare really works. If you ever tried what you just RPed, you'd be so dead it'd not be funny. As a self-styled educated amateur in NBC and counter-NBC warfare, I might be able to offer you some advice.



Ic- Meanwhile at the checkpoint with the reporters from Eldanor... The lieutenant smacked the woman in the face and screamed as he spat, "Shut up unless you're confessing to being a spy and telling me your mission!"

Her eyes flashed.

"I told you, I am no spy. You can call our news station in Eldanor and check to see that I'm simply a reporter. Besides, what good is finding out there's a massacre to a spy? It'll be all over the news soon enough."

OOC: That would be appreciated I can usually handle infantry warfare and tactics much better though. I've only started learning about nerve agents on the battlefield.

The lieutenant shook his head, "Our news will never report on that, and we won't let them. Besides, our people won't even care... Now are you going to confess to being a spy, or are we going to have to get you to talk?"

The man smiled, "We hang them, and as they are hanging, we take a razor and slice off their privates... Then we smear tar on their bodies, and as they are still alive, because it takes usually twenty minutes to die from hanging, we set them ablaze... Spying includes unauthorized picture taking, and attempts to smuggle banned media out of the nation... All media must be run by the government first for approval for either domestica broadcast or export to a foreign nation."

"Please, let me go!" the journalist pleaded. "I beg of you! I-I'm no spy!"

The man shook his head at the Roach Busters journalists... "I'll let you go, right over the side of a cliff..."



Ooc- be back in a few hours perhaps, Super Power 2 beckons. Portugal shall rule the world!

The lieutenant shook his head, "Our news will never report on that, and we won't let them. Besides, our people won't even care... Now are you going to confess to being a spy, or are we going to have to get you to talk?"

"I never was a spy, and never will be."

bump

OOC:Hey, DA, want to try and take my guy? We can turn this into a Bourne Identity type thing.

IC:

Jenkins walked into his room, and checked his pistol. He wasn't sure if he'd been followed. He went into his closet, and put his flak jacket on, and screwed a suppresor onto his .45. He had a rail system on it, so he also attached a laser sight. He took out his data stick, and inserted it into his lap top.

OK, good so far...

He hit send...

Error 125:Couldn't connect to internet

Shit.

He knew it was time to get the hell out of Mississipian territory, but it would be a true pain in the ass...

OOC:If you don't mind, I'd like this guy to survive this RP.

bump

Bump

At the checkpoint, the lieutenant was holding the Eldanor lady journalist up against the car as he started to fondle her and chuckle, "Spies aren't people under the law, so there isn't anybody to stop us from having some fun with you... But maybe if you confess and tell us your mission objectives, you'll just wind up with a lengthy prison sentence."


Ooc- Dooms, how did he get a pistol? We are so tight on our regulations for bringing guns into the nation, and there is no such thing as a "silencer" the preferred/real term is "sound suppressor" because it still makes noise, just a great deal less, and at the cost of muzzle velocity and range.

Ic- After his failed attempt to connect to the internet, the CIC (Commonwealth Intelligence Command) of Western Sahara, was tracing the line and getting a fix on his position. They finally found the general area, a run-down section of Stahlecker City... Two squads (10 each) of WSSAAS were immediately dispatched in four helicopters to get into the area and establish a perimeter around the block he was believed to be in.



In the BMP-3, the RB journalists were nervously pondering their fate. One of the RG soldiers took out a pistol and aimed it at the ex-marines head... He chuckled as he pulled the trigger, it clicked empty... He'd taken the magazine out and the round from the chamber out when the marine wasn't paying attention... He erupted with laughter, "HAHAHA! Oh my God, you should have seen your face!"

"Never! I am not a spy! And you would do best to leave me alone!"

The lieutenant backhanded her in the face, shouting, "Insolent worm!"

"Filthy pig!"

((OOC: It was actually a journalist and a cameraman, but the cameraman is out cold))

IC: "Let me go, you filthy bastards!" the journalist shouted. "If my government finds out, they'll whip your sorry asses and hang you out to dry!"

However, even as he spoke the words, he knew they were untrue. President J.L., aware of Decisive Action's authoritarian censorship and repressive measures to squelch stories which might injure the government's image, had distinctly said, on more than one occasion, that any Roach-Busterian journalist traveling to Decisive Action or any of her territories, they would do so at their own risk, and the government would not be held accountable.

He just hoped the Mississippians weren't aware of that...

((OOC: DA, this may well be your best thread ever- and that's saying quite a lot!!))

((OOC: DA, this may well be your best thread ever- and that's saying quite a lot!!))


Ooc- No, my best stuff is probably the Roger Alice Rp, Operation Purification, Tallmadge Rp, or 1984.

Ooc- No, my best stuff is probably the Roger Alice Rp, Operation Purification, Tallmadge Rp, or 1984.

I'd say a toss-up between this and 1984.

OOC: I wouldn't say best but this one is up there. i liked it when I was bartering klansmen to get those wondrful feminists. How are the klansmen doing BTW? Horribly I hope.

"Filthy pig!"

The lieutenant dragged her into the back of a hummer vehicle and spent the next ten or so minutes raping her. When he was finished, he slapped her around and shouted, "Talk now, spy! Or else my entire unit will get a turn on you!"

The reporter tried to keep the tears from coming.

"No, I told you, I'm not a spy!"

The lieutenant slapped her in the face as he pulled her up to eye level, "I know you're a spy, just admit it..."

She shook her head.

"I'm not, I swear!"

He frowned and dropped her down into the back of the hummer, he pulled her pants up and chuckled, "Well then, if you're not a spy, we can just forget all this, no harm done... I'll take you back to Stahlecker City and you can be on your way, fair enough, eh?"

She nodded, shaken.

"Yes, fine."

Two of the MSAAS soldiers climbed into the hummer to guard the woman and accompany their lieutenant.

It was going to be a three hour drive to the city.


As the hummer was rolling down the road about ten miles from the roadblock, the soldier sitting next to her started to leer at her and run his hand through her hair, he smiled, "You know lieutenant, she might be a spy, we can't be too sure, can we?"

The lieutenant glanced back, taking his eyes off the road, "I don't think she's a spy, but if you're determined to prove that for yourself, take her into the back..."


The soldier slyly grinned at her, "Well, I just might have to take him up on that offer... So, are you still spying on our nation?"

OOC: Whatever happened to the cameraman?

She move away from the soldier next to her, a bit nervous.

"I'm not a spy, and I don't intend to become one."

OOC: Whatever happened to the cameraman?

She move away from the soldier next to her, a bit nervous.

"I'm not a spy, and I don't intend to become one."


Ooc- Good question, let's handle that now...

Ic- Back at the checkpoint, a sergeant and three privates were tying the cameraman to a tree, he was conscious as they cinched his hands behind his back and the tree.... One of the men placed a glass bottle on his head and whispered, "Now hold really still or else you might get killed..." They moved about fifty yards away and drew their pistols, "Target practice!" one of them shouted before shooting the empty beer bottle off of the man's head. The bottle exploded into dozens of shards of glass, each falling off his head in a separate manner.


The soldier in the hummer shook his head as he pulled her back closer to him, "I think you might be a spy... You very well could be a spy... I want a yes or no answer, are you still a spy?"

The cameraman stayed completely still, afraid he'd get a bullet in the head if he moved the slightest bit.


She moved away from him again, farther this time, still shaking her head.

"No, no, I'm not a spy."

The soldier ran out and set another bottle on his head. Then he ran back to the firing edge of the road and lifted an RPG-7 launcher onto his shoulder, "Hey, you, spy, should we use this one to try to shoot the bottle?"



The solider in the Hummer grabbed her and pulled her back, this time onto his lap, holding her firmly in place, he sneered, "I want a yes or no answer, are you still a spy?"

The cameraman shook his head quickly. He was petrified with fear, almost positive that he was going to die by the end of this day.


She struggled against his grip, attempting to free herself.

"I told you, no, and let me go!" she shouted at him angrily, still trying to get away from him.

The soldier knelt down and steadied the RPG on his shoulder, as though he was finding the range and readying to fire... "Hold still now, this might work!" he shouted.



The soldier dragged her into the back of the hummer and slapped her in the face, shouting, "Hold still damnit!"

The cameraman did stay still, staring at the rocket, silently praying.


"Get away from me!" she yelled at him, scrambling away from him.

The man with the rocket suddenly swung it wide to the right and fired, he missed by a mile... He chuckled, "Ah hell, you didn't think we was gonna kill you, did ya?"


The man in the back of the hummer held her down, pinning her down tightly, calling for his friend to help him. His friend climbed into the back and helped him hold her down while he raped her. When he finished, his friend took a turn, then they slapped her around and left her in the back while they climbed up front again.


ooc- She is going to be telling one big story about the WSSAAS eh? It ain't going to make them look good either, eh?

OOC: She'll be keeping her mouth shut.

The cameraman took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It's fine, he thought to himself.


After the two soldiers left, she slumped against the side of the hummer and put her head in her hands, emitting a few sobs.

The soldiers at the checkpoint untied the cameraman and pointed him west to Stahlecker City. One of them gave him a swift kick in the ass and shouted, "Better start walking, it gets awfully hot at noon, which is in two hours... It'll be at least a twenty-four hour walk..."

"You expect me to walk through the blazing heat? It's hot enough already. I'd like to see you walk that far in this heat."

The soldier raised his OICW into the air and fired a burst from it, "Get moving! he shouted.




Meanwhile in the hummer, they finally reached the city, well the sign that said, "Stahlecker City five miles" and pointing straight ahead.

The lieutenant dragged her out of the hummer, removed her handcuffs, slapped her in the face and said, "Remember, not a word!" and then tossed her down into the ditch along the side of the road.


She saw the hummer turn around and zoom back down the road towards the checkpoint, dust kicking up as it went on its way.

The cameraman set off at a brisk pace, not wanting to stay around the soldiers and deciding he'd better chance the long walk to Shahlecker City.


The female reporter stood up and quickly did her best to brush the dirt of her clothes. She made her way quickly into the city, not exactly knowing exactly what she'd do when she actually got there.

As the man was on mile ten of the approximately one-hundred and sixty mile trip, he started to feel the heat, the entire sun was beating down now, there was no cloud cover at all. He looked off about a mile into the distance to the side of the road and he saw a lone farmhouse, and acres upon acres of tobacco and cotton crops. He also saw an irrigation canal, the water looked so pure and good, it was a wonder it was so clean with all the dust from the non-irrigated parts of Western Sahara blowing around so often.


(Ooc- Western Sahara is 90% arable land now, well roughly, we spent years and hundreds of billions to irrigate Western Sahara and make it so the white farming economy flourishes)



About two miles down the road, the woman noticed two white men were on horses, coming down along the road, going the opposite way of her. Each of them had a double-barrel rifle and was wearing hunter blaze orange. Two hunting dogs kept a nice pace alongside the horses. They hadn't seen her yet, but she didn't know what reaction she'd get if she asked for help.

The man glanced at the water for a few moments, and the just the simple thought of cool clean water tempted him. He wanted to take some, but he hadn't a jug or canteen to carry it in, and having seen the attitude he had gotten from the soldiers for just making a comment about the blasted heat, he didn't think anyone would be happy if he took a drink. He continued down the road.


The lady decided to chance it. She wasn't about to drag herself five miles down a dusty road in desert heat without trying an alternative. She stepped out so she was in the view of the two men with the horses.

"Excuse me, could I get a little help?" she tried to ask as politely as she could, which was particulary easy due to the condition she was in.

On the farm, suddenly a round from an SKS landed in front of the man, a young boy of about 12 came running out from behind a tree, "You, who are you? This is our farm, are you with the guv-ment coming to take it away? You took our slaves, but you won't take our land!"

The young boy kept his rifle trained on the man.




The two men immediately jumped off of their horses and rushed over to her side. One of them helped her stand up, letting her lean on his shoulder, the other one's jaw dropped, "What the hell happened to you?" He held up a canteen and helped her drink from it.

Ooc- She's dehydrated, was raped and beaten, fair assumption she is struggling to stand on her own, eh?

The man shook his head quickly.

"I'm not with your government, no, at the moment I think I'm running from it," he told the boy, chuckling weakly. "I was just about to be on my way up to Stahlecker City, do you know a shorter route?"


She drank most of it in a few moments, trying to steady herself against the man's shoulder.

"I've been slapped around a bit," she told the two men.

The boy's older brother suddenly came out from behind another tree, the youth of about sixteen held an AKM firmly in his hands, pointing it at the man, "Why are you running? Are you a spy, or a nig--r lover? What have you done?"

The 12 year old gasped, "He's a jew!"




The two men helped the woman stand up and managed to get her onto a horse with some difficulty. The man sat behind her, holding her gently and keeping her from falling. His buddy now on his own horse, was holding both the rifles as they both made their way back towards the city.

The man shook his head.

"No, I'm not a Jew, or anything besides a cameraman. Some soldiers back at the checkpoint thought my partner and I were spies, but we're not, we're just doing a report on one of the townships."


"Thank you," the woman told the men as they rode towards the city, her voice a little cracked. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."

The boys both nodded, still keeping their guns trained on him, "Okay, well if you say so, do you have a temporary travel pass?" the oldest one asked...

The youngest chimed in, "Are you hungry? We're about to have dinner..."




The man shook his head, "Think nothing of it, just doing my duty to help others... So, what exactly happened to you? Do you need a doctor?"

The man looked in his pockets, positive he still had it, until it fell out. He handed it to the older boy.

"Yeah, I am really hungry, you wouldn't mind if I ate dinner with you?"


"I'd rather not tell what happened, and I don't think I need a doctor at this minute."

The two boys kept their guns trained on him as the older one said, "Okay, well I'm going to search you... Don't make any sudden movements... Lie down on the ground, please..."


The man nodded at the woman, "Well, if you want to talk about it... Anyway, I'm Fritz, Fritz Stahlecker, a cousin to the governor Henry Stahlecker... And you are?"


Ooc- He had to be a noble, only nobles and elites can spend their time riding around hunting for sport, and especially with expensive double-barrel rifles. :)

ooc- Can't i send in a freelance , non government sponsored, team?
please?

OOC: DA you haven't replied to my post before probably because you didn't say it so I am posting it again. My post is in reply to this:

"The NTG reporters suddenly found themselves facing at least six AKS-74Us, a man spat tobacco juice before saying, "The tape or your life...""

IC:

John stepped out in front of the leader.

“You know we can negotiate. I am from Greece and as you probably know we are allied with you guys. So why the hell do you care if we report back to our people what’s happening here? Anyways before you do anything I would like to see the ambassador at the Greek Embassy in Western Sahara which is in Stahlecker City.”

OOC: DA you haven't replied to my post before probably because you didn't say it so I am posting it again. My post is in reply to this:

"The NTG reporters suddenly found themselves facing at least six AKS-74Us, a man spat tobacco juice before saying, "The tape or your life...""

IC:

John stepped out in front of the leader.

“You know we can negotiate. I am from Greece and as you probably know we are allied with you guys. So why the hell do you care if we report back to our people what’s happening here? Anyways before you do anything I would like to see the ambassador at the Greek Embassy in Western Sahara which is in Stahlecker City.”

Ooc- Sorry

Ic-

The man shrugged, "Well, I guess you have a point... Do your people care? Just talk to our governor in Stahlecker City before you leave... Okay?"

He motioned at his squad to stand down.

The men suddenly lowered their rifles.

"Almost everybody in Greece support you guys. Some even think you are as strong as Hoplites but I doubt that. We will speak with your governor and with the ambassador to make sure both sides are okay with this."

They put the camera in the truck and went in it.

"Thanks again for not shooting us."

The truck's engine turned on and headed toward Stahlecker City.

The man sighed. "Fine, fine, just don't run off with my travel pass or anything, I need that to get back into my country," he told the two boys, lying on the ground.


"I'm Aiwendil Tyaro."

The one boy went prone and kept his rifle aimed at the man's head while the other boy set his gun down on his brother's back and then moved over and did the standard prisoner of war search drill on the man (I can't explain this well, I could probably demonstrate it, but that doesn't work online)

After they checked him over, the older boy pulled him to his feet, dusted him off, and then walked back to his younger brother and picked up his AKM.

"Okay, let's go eat", the older boy said.




Fritz Stahlecker smiled at the woman, "Well it's nice to meet you... So where do you want to go, anywhere particular in the city? Does your nation have an embassy or a consulate?"



Ooc- Hogsweat, talk to me over MSN, but not now, I'm going to eat dinner.

The man nodded. "Can I have my, ah, travel pass back now?" he asked the older boy.


"No, we don't have an embassy," she told him. "I'm staying at hotel in the city but I don't have my room keys anymore, and I'm not even sure if I have my travel papers at the moment."

The HNN truck parked in front of the Greek Embassy in Stahlecker City. John made sure that there wasn’t a Mississippian government agent following him. Kosta decided to remain in the truck. John took the tape out the bag and went up to the embassy door. There where to soldiers guarding it armed with a sub machine gun each. He showed them his passport and allowed him in. He went up to the secretary counter.

“I am John from HNN. I am here to see the ambassador.”

“Since you been here before I guess you know the way to his office. Well he is not busy now so you may go talk to him.”

John knocked on the door of the ambassador.

“Come in” yelled a voice from the inside of the room.

“Hello ambassador.”

“Good morning John.”

“I came here because I got into a problem with a few Mississippian soldiers. You see I was reporting the riot that happened today. They where going to kill me if I didn’t hand them over the tape but I told them who I was and they let me come to the embassy.”

“You did the right thing. Do you have a copy of the tape on what you recorded?”

“Yes sir he it is.”

The ambassador took the copy of the tape. He went to one of the portrait hanging on the wall. He removed it from its place and a safe was built in the wall. He unlocked it and put the tape in.

“I will send it back to Greece and put it in the archives. Now I need you to go out again and see if there will be anymore riots.”

“Yes sir.”

John walked out of the embassy and went in the truck.

“Let’s go record some more if there are any riots left.”

The truck’s engine turned out and it left the embassy area.

OOC: I hope this is alright with you DA. When I finished writing this you where away on MSN.

The man nodded. "Can I have my, ah, travel pass back now?" he asked the older boy.


"No, we don't have an embassy," she told him. "I'm staying at hotel in the city but I don't have my room keys anymore, and I'm not even sure if I have my travel papers at the moment."


The oldest boy handed him back his pass and pushed him along... "Oh by the way, I'm Don Juan Salazar... This boy here..." he said, pointing at the young boy with the SKS, "Is one of my brothers, Patricio Francisco Salazar."


Ooc- About the two

Lieutenant Don Juan Salazar (17) The second eldest son the late Field Marshal Francisco Salzar. He is a 1st lieutenant in an artillery unit of the 3rd RG Armored Division. 6’3, 189 lbs. Black hair, green eyes. IQ 138

Patricio Francisco Salazar (12) Son of the late Field Marshal Francisco Salazar.




Fritz Stahlecker smiled at her as he said, "Don't worry, I'll get you new papers... I'll talk to my cousin, don't worry..."

The man pocketed his pass and smiled. "Nice to meet you both," he said.


"Thank you very much, I hope you don't mind, I just don't know what I'd do otherwise," she told him.

The two boys smiled as the lowered their guns but still held them at the ready, "Okay, nice to meet you too.." Patricio said.

Then Don smiled, "Okay, you can stay the night if you want, we're going to Stahlecker City tomorrow to look into buying a few combines and we need to hire some nig--rs from the Township near the city for some seasonal work, it's time to harvest..."




Fritz sighed, "Are you sure you don't need a doctor? You can tell me, what happened to you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'd really appreciate if I could stay the night. Would you mind taking me to the city tomorrow with you so I can try and get back home to my country?"


"No, no, I can't tell you, and I'm fine, I don't need a doctor," Aiwendil told him, shaking her head.

Don nodded, "Yeah, sure, you can stay with us... You don't mind staying in a guest room, do you?" (ooc- the guest room is about 5,000 sq feet in size)



Fritz sighed again, "Please, tell me what happened so that I can help you..."

He whispered in her ear, "Were you assaulted by a patrol of soldiers?"

"No, not at all," he told the two boys.


She hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded reluctantly.

The two boys walked for about another mile back into the woods and then he saw their house, it was at least 90,000 sq feet in size. The two boys helped him walk into the mansion, they stuck their guns in a rack as they walked through the garage... He looked around, at least five hundred guns stored neatly in the racks. There were a few guards sitting around in chairs. He noticed about two hundred guards along the perimeter of the mansion as they'd been walking in.

Don smiled, "Here we are..."




Fritz frowned and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, I'll get you some help... Do you know who it was that did that to you?"

He stood, gazing around the mansion and the guards. He was impressed with the size and everything else about this place. "This looks like a great place."


"It was two soldiers and a lietunant back at the checkpoint, that's all I know."

Don nodded, "You want something to drink, or a cigarette? The best in the Commonwealth is the Western Saharan tobacco.. Salazar Imperial Cigarettes, Imperial Blend, twenty-five dollars per smoke... Want one?" He took out a silver cigarette holder.





Fritz frowned, "Do you know what checkpoint they were at? I can have them hanged if you'd like..."

Ooc- Dooms, how did he get a pistol? We are so tight on our regulations for bringing guns into the nation, and there is no such thing as a "silencer" the preferred/real term is "sound suppressor" because it still makes noise, just a great deal less, and at the cost of muzzle velocity and range.

Ic- After his failed attempt to connect to the internet, the CIC (Commonwealth Intelligence Command) of Western Sahara, was tracing the line and getting a fix on his position. They finally found the general area, a run-down section of Stahlecker City... Two squads (10 each) of WSSAAS were immediately dispatched in four helicopters to get into the area and establish a perimeter around the block he was believed to be in.
OOC:I said suppresor, not silencer, learn to read.

IC:

Jenkins heard the sound of helicopters in the distance. He ripped the data stick out of the computer, put it in his pocket, and ran down the stairs...

"I don't smoke or chew tobacco, but I would like something to drink would be really nice, being as I'm parched."


"It was the checkpoint by East Stahlecker Township, and I really don't think you should hang them."

Ooc- Get to reply to dooms shortly.


Ic-

The boy nodded and handed the cameraman a liter bottle of water.




Fritz shrugged, "Well we hang rapists, usually that is, why should they get it any different?"

The man took the bottle and drank most of it in a few long gulps. After he had had enough, he put the cap back on and nodded to the boy. "I needed that, thanks, I feel much better now."


She shook her head. "It's probably not my place to say, but I really don't believe in the death penalty. It was just the way I was raised."

((OOC: What about my journalist and [unconscious] camerman?))

bump

Don smiled and handed the man a phone, "Here, you can call somebody if you need to..."



Fritz frowned, "Still, after what they did to you, they should hang..."





Meanwhile, the Roach Buster journalists came to, now inside an CIC (Commonwealth Intelligence Command) interrogation facility located on the outskirts of Stahlecker City.

OOC:*sits in corner humming jepordy tune*

He took the phone from Don, then frowned suddenly. "I'd try to get tickets for a plane out of here, but I don't know what happened to my partner. I need to find her before I get out of here."


"If that's the way it works around here, I can't stop you, but I never liked the idea of the death penalty," she told him.

Everything was blurry. The cameraman blinked feebly, attempting to sweep away the disorientation. The world seemed to be spinning at more than a million miles per hour. His abdomen churned as his stomach did backflips and his intestines did cartwheels. The nausea was almost unbearable. He suddenly snapped his head forward, explosively spewing vomit all over the floor. He coughed, retched, and gasped hoarsely.
"W-Where are we?" he groaned.
"I don't know," the journalist said, shrugging. "The savages seemed to have brought us to some torture room."
The door slowly opened with a low groaning sound as a tall, burly Mississippian walked in to administer the punishment. He didn't seem to be in a good mood.

OOC:*sits in corner humming jepordy tune*


As the man was running, a round from a rifle of a WSSAAS operative tore into his leg and he collapsed onto the ground. Suddenly he was surrounded, dozens of men training guns on him. One of them walked up and smiled, "Who are you, why are you here, what are you doing? What is your mission?"


The man waited and when the Doomingsland man didn't reply, he drew a pistol and shot him in both the kneecaps. "Talk!"

OOC:*sits in corner humming jepordy tune*

((OOC: Hey, Doom, could Skar be part of this RP? You could RP Skar, hired by the journalist's wife (who's very rich), doing a rescue mission.))

bump

Everything was blurry. The cameraman blinked feebly, attempting to sweep away the disorientation. The world seemed to be spinning at more than a million miles per hour. His abdomen churned as his stomach did backflips and his intestines did cartwheels. The nausea was almost unbearable. He suddenly snapped his head forward, explosively spewing vomit all over the floor. He coughed, retched, and gasped hoarsely.
"W-Where are we?" he groaned.
"I don't know," the journalist said, shrugging. "The savages seemed to have brought us to some torture room."
The door slowly opened with a low groaning sound as a tall, burly Mississippian walked in to administer the punishment. He didn't seem to be in a good mood.


The man injected each of them with IG-BS Virus, he smiled, "You both will be very, very, different people in about three hours... Either talk, or no anti-virus for you..."

He dangled the needles with anti-virus in them in front of the men, the guards kept their MP-5Ns trained on the two men so they'd not get any ideas, but they were strapped down to operating tables, so doing anything would be hard enough.

He took the phone from Don, then frowned suddenly. "I'd try to get tickets for a plane out of here, but I don't know what happened to my partner. I need to find her before I get out of here."


"If that's the way it works around here, I can't stop you, but I never liked the idea of the death penalty," she told him.



Don smiled, "Okay, we can help you find her if you want."


Fritz asked her, "So, is there somebody we can get you in contact with that can help you out? Any friends or family here?"

He looked up, a twisted smile on his face. The WSSAAS men looked puzzled, until they saw him reveal the detonater in his hand.

"I'm a journalist, now let me go, or I'll kill all of us. Don't bother trying to run, I'll fucking blow us all to hell." he said calmly.

OOC:Sure, you can have to wife call him up.

The man injected each of them with IG-BS Virus, he smiled, "You both will be very, very, different people in about three hours... Either talk, or no anti-virus for you..."

He dangled the needles with anti-virus in them in front of the men, the guards kept their MP-5Ns trained on the two men so they'd not get any ideas, but they were strapped down to operating tables, so doing anything would be hard enough.

What the hell, the journalist thought. We're no spies, but maybe they'll let us go if we tell them what they want to hear.
"Y-Yes, we're spies," he lied.

She had heard the stories before. In battle, his ferocity and courage were unparalleled. His mind and body were equally swift and numble. He was cunning, ingenious, brilliant, a prodigy, the best of the best. His skills were virtually unrivaled in the world. No one was better than he. He would be perfect. She picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Skar Tactical Inc.? I would like to speak to Skar..."

"Good. How do you go about finding someone around here?" he asked.


She shook her head no. "All my family lives in Eldanor, and I don't have any friends here," she sighed. "I hope I don't get stuck here any longer then I have to be."

He looked up, a twisted smile on his face. The WSSAAS men looked puzzled, until they saw him reveal the detonater in his hand.

"I'm a journalist, now let me go, or I'll kill all of us. Don't bother trying to run, I'll fucking blow us all to hell." he said calmly.

OOC:Sure, you can have to wife call him up.


The man frowned, "I could shoot you in the head before you can pull the detonator's trigger, but anyway, forget that... Get up, we can go... Come on..."

Two WSSAAS operatives helped the man up and escorted him to a nearby BMP-3.

What the hell, the journalist thought. We're no spies, but maybe they'll let us go if we tell them what they want to hear.
"Y-Yes, we're spies," he lied.


The man smiled, "Very good, now we can hang you with no legal worries... Come along, let's get to the hanging... First let's cure you of your diseases so you don't rise out from the graves we'll be putting you into."


The man noticed already his skin all over his right arm was turning black and itching, a large blotch fell off, it was digusting.

Suddenly the Mississippian injected him with the anti-virus, as was his comrade also injected. Within a few minutes, the black blotches had gone away, back to their normal colors. But still, a large piece of his skin was gone.

"Ah, but that's assuming I wouldn't see your finger moving toward the trigger, and pull the switch and fry us all."

He cooperated with the men, struggling to get onto his feet, using his upper body strength to pull himself up.

The man smiled, "Very good, now we can hang you with no legal worries... Come along, let's get to the hanging... First let's cure you of your diseases so you don't rise out from the graves we'll be putting you into."


The man noticed already his skin all over his right arm was turning black and itching, a large blotch fell off, it was digusting.

Suddenly the Mississippian injected him with the anti-virus, as was his comrade also injected. Within a few minutes, the black blotches had gone away, back to their normal colors. But still, a large piece of his skin was gone.

"My wife is a wealthy woman," the journalist said. "Release me, and she'll pay you a fortune!"

"My wife is a wealthy woman," the journalist said. "Release me, and she'll pay you a fortune!"


The man smiled, "I am a commander in the CIC, I am already wealthy... Besides, accepting bribes is treason... I'm sorry, you may hang..."

The man smiled, "I am a commander in the CIC, I am already wealthy... Besides, accepting bribes is treason... I'm sorry, you may hang..."

"B-But I have children!" the journalist whined. "A b-boy and a girl, ages 2 and 4. Won't you please spare my life, for their sake?"

She had heard the stories before. In battle, his ferocity and courage were unparalleled. His mind and body were equally swift and numble. He was cunning, ingenious, brilliant, a prodigy, the best of the best. His skills were virtually unrivaled in the world. No one was better than he. He would be perfect. She picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello, Skar Tactical Inc.? I would like to speak to Skar..."
Skar Tactical Inc HQ, Doom City, Doomingsland

Within the massive, heavily defended sky scraper, a secretary picked up the phone.

"Yes, I'll get him on right away."

Across the hall, within Skar's massive office, his call box beeped.

"Yeah, what is it?" he said, annoyed at this disturbance to his game of Halo.

"Sir, potenial client on the line."

"Put it through."

The desk opened up, and a phone rose up from a hydrolically operated platform. He switched it on to speaker mode,

"Hello, this is Skar, how may I be of service?"

OOC: DA, I posted, I think you might've missed it.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Skar?" she said. "My husband, a journalist, hasn't returned from [which Mississippian country was it?] yet. I don't know what happened to him, but...anyway, I heard you were the best! I'll give you 100 million dollars if you can find him and bring him home to me! Please, I beg of you!"

"Y-Yes, Mr. Skar?" she said. "My husband, a journalist, hasn't returned from [which Mississippian country was it?] yet. I don't know what happened to him, but...anyway, I heard you were the best! I'll give you 100 million dollars if you can find him and bring him home to me! Please, I beg of you!"
OOC: Its Western Sahara.

"Y-Yes, Mr. Skar?" she said. "My husband, a journalist, hasn't returned from [which Mississippian country was it?] yet. I don't know what happened to him, but...anyway, I heard you were the best! I'll give you 100 million dollars if you can find him and bring him home to me! Please, I beg of you!"
"Right, I'll get on it ASAP, will get back to you when I find him."

He hung up, and headed toward his ready room. He hit a buzzer, and six mercenaries under his employment walked into the room.

"Gentlemen, we have a client in need of information regarding the wearabouts of her husband."

He tossed a file full of information regarding the individual, and the men began going through it.

"Flight leaves in three hours. Let's get moving."

The mercs left the room, and dashed down the hall to the armory. Inside, each man took an XM8 Compact Carbine, an AT4 anti-tank launcher, a Mk.23 SOCOM, and various other accesories. One man took an OICW with him. The good thing about having these weapons, was that they could easily take ammo off of dead Mississipians.

The men were clad in desert MARPATs, and wore ski masks and flak jackets, with SPEAR vests over them. They walked down the hall, back into the ready room, were they found Skar leaning back on his chair, wearing a tan sneaking suit, with his ACTIVE camoflauge over. He had his XM8, his scimitar, his wrist blade, his .45, a flak vest, ect. Altogether, they were a pretty scary looking bunch.

"OK, we'd best head down to the airport..."

OOC:DA, I don't really care if any of the mercs live, but I definately want Skar to make it out alive(possibly rescue Jenkins while he's at it). What counties border were the reporters are?

Ooc- Everybody will get a reply after I update 1984, working on it now.

"Good. How do you go about finding someone around here?" he asked.


She shook her head no. "All my family lives in Eldanor, and I don't have any friends here," she sighed. "I hope I don't get stuck here any longer then I have to be."


The two boys shrugged, "Call the Commonwealth Ministry of Information..."




Fritz nodded, "Ah, well you can stay with me for a while until you can arrange transportation out... I live on a large estate about a mile outside of Stahlecker City..."

"Right, I'll get on it ASAP, will get back to you when I find him."

He hung up, and headed toward his ready room. He hit a buzzer, and six mercenaries under his employment walked into the room.

"Gentlemen, we have a client in need of information regarding the wearabouts of her husband."

He tossed a file full of information regarding the individual, and the men began going through it.

"Flight leaves in three hours. Let's get moving."

The mercs left the room, and dashed down the hall to the armory. Inside, each man took an XM8 Compact Carbine, an AT4 anti-tank launcher, a Mk.23 SOCOM, and various other accesories. One man took an OICW with him. The good thing about having these weapons, was that they could easily take ammo off of dead Mississipians.

The men were clad in desert MARPATs, and wore ski masks and flak jackets, with SPEAR vests over them. They walked down the hall, back into the ready room, were they found Skar leaning back on his chair, wearing a tan sneaking suit, with his ACTIVE camoflauge over. He had his XM8, his scimitar, his wrist blade, his .45, a flak vest, ect. Altogether, they were a pretty scary looking bunch.

"OK, we'd best head down to the airport..."

OOC:DA, I don't really care if any of the mercs live, but I definately want Skar to make it out alive(possibly rescue Jenkins while he's at it). What counties border were the reporters are?


Ooc- Not sure how they plan to get into the nation. And Flak jackets only stop AA flak rounds (they're ww2-vietnam era items) my men wear Kevlar Body Armor Level IV with ceramic plates in the front and back over the body (will stop a 7.62mm NATO round, a 30'06 round, 5.56mm NATO, and 7.62x39 round)


IC- The CIC (Commonwealth Intelligence Command) thought they detected something on their radar, but they weren't sure so they sent two MiG-41s and four MiG-29s to go patrol the area and do a check. They also dispatched two squads of WSSAAS in Mi-24 helicopters to investigate the area.

The man decided to do that. He dialed in the number and waited for someone to pick up.


"All right, thank you," she told him.

OOC:Flak jackets are just catchy nicknames for body armor, they wear level IV armor.

IC:

The plane was no were near the country, instead, the men had been dropped off in a neighboring country. The men quickly gathered themselves together, and boarded their ATVs. They sped off through the desert, toward the DA controled border...

"Commonwealth Ministry of Information, how may I help you... Please state your Citizen National Identification number..."



The man nodded as they neared the city, he pointed to a road, "Down that road, leads to my estate... You want to go there or into the city right away?"

In Sierra Leone, 2 unarmed members of SHRU(Special Hostage Resuce Unit) boarded a Department of State helicopter. Thier mission was to free the RB journalist without using weapons. This unit was good with words and weapons. The copter takes off and heads to it's mission.

The man turned to the two boys for assistance. "They want a Citizen Identification number, what do I do?"


"Ah, can we go back to your estate if you don't mind? I really want to lie down right now."

OOC:RB, I thought your guy was strapped down to a table?

OOC:RB, I thought your guy was strapped down to a table?

((OOC: Must've missed that. My bad. :headbang: ))

The man turned to the two boys for assistance. "They want a Citizen Identification number, what do I do?"


"Ah, can we go back to your estate if you don't mind? I really want to lie down right now."


Don smiled, "Tell them you're calling on behalf of Don Juan Salazar..."



Fritz nodded and guided the horse down the road that would take them to the estate. His hunting companion said goodbye and then rode off for the city.

Fritz nodded, "You must be tired and exhausted, yes? I have a doctor at my estate, my personal physician, he can take a look at you when we get back if you'd like..."

He smiled and nodded. "I'm calling on the behalf of Don Juan Salazar."


"Yes, I'd appreciate that."

As the helicopter enters Western S. boarders the pliot radios "This is SecState-1 permission to land at Stahlecker City Airport". the helicopter waits for permission. On the copter, the two men get to do their job, to bring someone home. They prepare everything for the deal.

He smiled and nodded. "I'm calling on the behalf of Don Juan Salazar."


"Yes, I'd appreciate that."



"What does Lieutenant Salazar want?



Fritz nodded as they neared his estate, she could see that there were at least two hundred guards present around the front perimeter, and that main mansion was at least 70,000 sq feet in size with four floors. She was quite impressed. Fritz smiled, "Well, here we are..."

"Lieutenant Salazar needs to find a woman that goes by the name of Aiwendil Tyaro, she's a foreigner from Eldanor."


She tried her best not to stare. She had rarely visited places in Eldanor or any other country that had been this big. "It's marvelous," she said.

"We don't have foreigners in our immigration database, we issue them temporary passes and write their names in logs... Let me check..."

A few minutes later he came back, "Yeah, she's listed in the log, she's somewhere in the country, that's all I can say."





Fritz smiled, "You like it eh? Do you want something to eat or drink, or would you like to rest for a while?"

"All right, thank you for your time," he said, hanging up. The man sighed. "Well, I've got to find her, I can't just leave her here."


She shook her head no. "I just want to go take a rest."

Don nodded, "Yes, but you can start out in the morning, you look so ill and tired, have something to eat and get rested up, if you go back out there now, you'll just get yourself killed from the elements... We're going into town tomorrow, early in the morning, we'll take you with us."




Fritz nodded and walked off down the hall as he said, "This way, I'll show you to your room..."

He sighed again. "All right, I'll try and eat something and rest, but I really do need to find her, I can't just go back to Eldanor and let her stay here, I don't even know if she's in one piece."


Aiwendil followed him as he walked through the halls, admiring the largeness of the the place and all the things she saw.

bump

Don smiled and led him into the dinning room, everything was already prepared. Both of the boys sat down and started to eat, encouraging the man to join them.




Fritz opened a door and showed her the room she was to stay in, it was at least four thousand square feet and was essentially a small house, the room was divided into six rooms, a small kitchen, a large bathroom, and a few other rooms. He smiled, "Well, just call me, a guard, or a servant if you need anything, anything at all, okay? Will you be okay here?"

The man sat and took a drink, and started to eat slowly, enjoying the delicious food that had been prepared.


"Yes, thank you, I'm pretty sure I'll be just fine," she told him, smiling slightly.

Don quickly finished eating and then lit up a cigar and started to smoke. He looked at the man, "Want one?" he offered.



Fritz smiled, "Okay, well if you need anything..." he then turned, walking out and shutting the door behind him. He then walked off to his smoking room.

The man shook his head. "I don't smoke, sorry."


Aiwendil sighed and walked over to the bed. She pulled her boots off and tried to lie down and clear her thoughts.

Don nodded, "Okay, well perhaps a glass of brandy after dinner?"



Fritz was walking around and he suddenly got a phone call, it was the CIC, Commonwealth Intelligence Command. Their satellites had seen him come across a woman matching the description that had been given to them by her employer as missing. (Our satellites are such that they can read the page number on the book you're reading if you're outside or by a window)


Fritz finished the conversation and walked back to the room she was in and knocked on the door, "Excuse me, ma'am, I think there is something important you might like to know... CIC says that they detected your co-worker moving down the main road to Stahlecker City earlier, but then he moved off into the woods near a farm and they lost track of him."

"Yes, I'd like to have a glass or two of brandy."


Aiwendil jumped up and opened the door. "That's good," she told him, with a sigh of relief. "I was afraid something dreadful might've happened to him. Do they know if he's all right?"

Don nodded, "Okay, sounds good."



Fritz smiled, "They just said they saw him, he was okay when they saw him... They don't know much else though."

The man smiled and continued to eat. Once he was finished, he pushed the plate away from him. "Very good, thank you."


She nodded. "All right, that's very good, I wouldn't want anything to happen to him."

Don and Patricio both stood up and walked to the private bar in a room across the hall. Don called for the man to follow him.



Fritz nodded, "Well, if anything else happens, I'll be sure to inform you... You should try to get some rest for now though, eh?"

The man followed Don and his brother into the bar.


She nodded. "Thank you, I will. Very tired, I'm going to try and take a nap...a long nap."

Don sat down and Patricio sat down and both of the boys poured themselves glasses of brandy, pouring one for him as well. They slid him his glass and then started to drink their own brandy.



Fritz nodded and turned to walk away, as he said, "Remember, if you need anything at all, just call."

He sank into a nearby chair, taking the brandy with a slight smile to the brothers. He started to drink it slowly, in small gulps. "This is really good."


She nodded. "Yes, I will if I need something." She closed to door and went to go lie back down, falling asleep almost the moment her head hit the soft pillow.

OOC:Hey DA, can we RP some more with Jenkins, we kinda left off with him sitting in a BMP with a vest full of C4 and his thumb on the big red button.

OOC: I wish to seek permission to enter this incident, it will be my first RP ever, so go easy on me, I wish to send in a platoon of medics from my army, for nothing more than general welfare of population. I will begin the RPing upon confirmation from DA.

He sank into a nearby chair, taking the brandy with a slight smile to the brothers. He started to drink it slowly, in small gulps. "This is really good."


She nodded. "Yes, I will if I need something." She closed to door and went to go lie back down, falling asleep almost the moment her head hit the soft pillow.



The two boys started to drink, heavily, as they both each lit up a cigar. The room quickly filled with smoke before the automated filtration vents in the ceiling turned on and cleared it of all the smoke. Don looked at the man, "Are you okay? Like the brandy?"



Fritz paced back and forth throughout his mansion, wondering what you do, worried about the safety and health of his guest, but she was under his watchful eye now, so he was certain she'd be safe. But the matter of her health was still uncertain.

OOC:Hey DA, can we RP some more with Jenkins, we kinda left off with him sitting in a BMP with a vest full of C4 and his thumb on the big red button.



Ooc- Sure, we can do that shortly.

He nodded. "Excellent," and began to drink more of it.


A little while later, Aiwendil woke up from her nap, feeling somewhat better, although not much. She pulled her shoes back on and left her room in search of something to eat.

bump

Don nodded, "So, should we turn in then? It'll be an early morning tomorrow, with much to be done."

Patricio nodded, "Yes indeed, we should get an early start on sleeping."




Meanwhile, Fritz was pacing the halls, he ran directly into her, he jumped back, startled, "Oh sorry, I... I didn't see you there, are you okay?"

The man nodded. "Yes, I need to rest," he told them, yawning and stretching his arms out over his head.


She jumped back a bit, startled as well. She recovered quickly and replied, "I'm fine, it's all right."

Don and Patricio nodded and pointed him to bedroom down the hall, Don spoke, "You may stay there if you want, it's a nice room..."

They each then walked off separate ways to their own rooms.




Fritz nodded, "Is there anything I can get for you?"

The man nodded and went into the room, locking the door behind him. He rolled into bed and fell asleep sometime later.


"If it's not too much, can I get something to eat?"

Don and Patricio were both asleep in their rooms.



Fritz smiled, "Yes, what would you like to eat, anything at all, just name it."

"Ah, I don't really know, soup, perhaps?" she asked.

I can send a Portuguese Teacher if it will helps.
We are a high culture civ, so we have many of them.
:fluffle:
Eu posso enviar um Professor de Português se isso ajudar.
Nos somos uma civilização altamente cultural, por isso temos muitos.

Giribôncio

"Ah, I don't really know, soup, perhaps?" she asked.



Fritz frowned, "Soup, is that all? Perhaps a steak or some Egyptian pheasant... Egyptian pheasant is a perfect meal, much better than Mississippian pheasant, but Mississippian pheasant is very good to begin with... Maybe some Saharan gazelle?"

I can send a Portuguese Teacher if it will helps.
We are a high culture civ, so we have many of them.
:fluffle:
Eu posso enviar um Professor de Português se isso ajudar.
Nos somos uma civilização altamente cultural, por isso temos muitos.

Giribôncio

"If we wanted the blacks to learn another language, we'd teach them. This law is just to establish further barriers to their ever being able to enter white society."

Henry Stahlecker, governor-general of Western Sahara

Jenkins sat in the BMP, his muscles tense. His thumb was on the trigger of a detonater that led to a vest of C4. Around him were Mississipian soldiers...

Ooc- They did already take the stuff from him before escorting him away, you know... He's been stripped down to no shirt, and only his undershorts...

OOC:No, he'd blow himself up if they tried that.

OOC:No, he'd blow himself up if they tried that.


Ooc- Then what is going on here? Wait, I have a solution.


Ic-

The men used a remote switch to close and seal the BMP hatches as the crew had already left... The blast would now largely be contained inside the BMP if he attempted anything. The teams were all moving back, they were now at least 150 yards away, one of them had a MILAN trained on the BMP, two had their SAWs trained on the back hatch.

They shouted through a bullhorn.

"Take your vest off, and set the detonator down or we light the BMP up... We will open the hatch and you will walk out, stripped down your shorts, slowly walking out, you will lay down on the ground, on your stomach, and we will then detain you."

Fritz frowned, "Soup, is that all? Perhaps a steak or some Egyptian pheasant... Egyptian pheasant is a perfect meal, much better than Mississippian pheasant, but Mississippian pheasant is very good to begin with... Maybe some Saharan gazelle?"

She nodded. "Perhaps eating some meat would do me some good...yes, I'll have the pheasant, please."

bump

Fritz nodded, "Yes, the cooks were making some pheasant for me anyway, it should be ready about now..."

He led her into the dinning room and to the chair with the food being set down in front of it on the massive and elegant table. He pulled the chair out for her and helped her sit down. He smiled, "You may eat now, you need to eat and get your strength back... I can eat later I guess."

"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning slightly. "I can wait, really, if you want to eat now."

He chuckled, "No, no, I insist... What sort of host would I be if I let my guests go hungry?"

"Are you sure? I don't mind waiting, really."

ooc: DA, can I have in on this? No lesbians this time, I promise.

Fritz replied to her, "Yes, I am certain, what sort of host would I be if I ate before my guests? Not a very good one, eh?"




Ooc- Momanguise, okay, get in on this. You may RP having a reporter team already somewhere in Western Sahara. The main places of interest are

1) Stahlecker City (Commonwealth capital, center of Western Saharan cultural life and economic life)

2) East Stahlecker Township (trashy slum town / shantytown where the 1 million of the 100 million former slaves live. About 5 million slaves died in the rebellion, and the rest moved away, many to Momanguise, about 1 million chose to stay, and they live in one of three major townships)

3) New Bir Gandus (White muslim stronghold, the rebuilt Bir Gandus, the original having been destroyed by B-52 firebombing missions during the 1st Mississippian-Saharan War, the name of the first gov't vs muslim insurgent war, yes 1st war implies more to follow, or implies ongoing. And yes there are ongoing insurgencies by small segments of the white muslims in Western Sahara, it's just nowhere near as large as it was during the 1st war)

ooc: Thanks, why arn't you on MSN?

ic: The news team arrived in the Sahara just in time to scrape a decent story. They had been kicking themselves when they missed the initial riots, and now a team of two journalists, one cameraman and one handyperson to moniter the aftermath of the riots. This promised to be 'juicy'.

Given the historic relationship between Momanguise and the slaves of this country, the journalists first visited the Township. They were greeted by the sight of a burning, raped town of scattered debris and rotting corpses. The cameras clicked silently as they took in the scene, the whole image simply beyond words.

As the Momanguise reporters were moving down on street, they saw an armed gang of blacks run across the street down one block, parallel to the road they were on. Suddenly they heard rifle grenades exploding all over near the black band. There were at least two hundred blacks that had been bolting across the road armed with police M-14B rifles and smuggled AMK rifles.

They heard intense gunfire, it sounded as though an entire division was fighting. After about ten minutes, the few dozen blacks still left alive broke ranks and ran for cover behind nearby buildings, they then faded away into the ruins of the building and the approaching night.


They watched as the force the blacks had been fighting came by, two squads (20 men total) of WSSAAS. Eight of the men carried M-249 SAWs, one of the men had a scoped M-14S (sniper model) and the rest all had OICWs. Each wore the top level body armor with ceramic plates, had kevlar helmets, and face masks on. They also had night vision goggles attached to their helmets and pulled down so they were in use.

In the day they were intimidating enough, at night, they were the stalkers of the night, they scared the living hell out of any who were opposing them.

The men silently moved forward in fire team formations, one four man team sending two men forward as two men covered, and advancing in such a fashion until they'd reach the other end of the intersection.

The cameras kept on filming as the battle raged, Anya saw a black mans face blown away as a sniper bullet found its mark. 'Did you get that?' she wispered to Guy, the camera man. He nodded in assent.

Suddenly before the reporters knew what was happening, two fireteams of the WSSAAS had them surrounded. A sergeant growled at them, "What are you doing here!". he then removed his face mask and they could see he had a massive knife scar down the right side of his face.


He trained his OICW on them and smiled, "Well, do you all want to tell me why you're here?"

'We are just reporters documenting this nation. If you wish us to leave we will at once.'

The man shook his head, "No, you are spies..."

Send some of your rioters here, we can use them for target practice and to train our concentration camp guards.

'No, we are reporters. If we were spies then we would be in the government, in the military, not simple reporters. What on earth could we spy on that isn't already common knowlage?'

The sergeant shook his head, "No ma'am, I think you're all spies... Anyway, if you show those pictures, you'll doctor them and make it seem as though we were shooting unarmed blacks, rather than terrorists who were armed and shooting at us." He shouldered his OICW and drew a silenced 1911 pistol, cocking the hammer back as he aimed it towards the woman. His squad kept their OICWs trained on the reporters.

'Then the camera is yours. Please put the gun down.'

OOC:DA, there's no such thing as a silencer, remember?!

IC:

Jenkins sat inside the BMP, his legs bleeding out. He had a plan to take a few of the Mississipians with him if he were to die. He crawled over to the driver's compartment, tossed his C4 laden vest inside, sealed the door, and began to pray.

His thumb moved over the detonator...

BLLLAAAAAAABLLOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHH

The BMP errupted in a ball of fire as the C4 went up in the driver's compartment, flipping the vehicle over. Jenkins was shaken from the explosion, but alright. He drew his 1911...

OOC:DA, there's no such thing as a silencer, remember?!

IC:

Jenkins sat inside the BMP, his legs bleeding out. He had a plan to take a few of the Mississipians with him if he were to die. He crawled over to the driver's compartment, tossed his C4 laden vest inside, sealed the door, and began to pray.

His thumb moved over the detonator...

BLLLAAAAAAABLLOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHH

The BMP errupted in a ball of fire as the C4 went up in the driver's compartment, flipping the vehicle over. Jenkins was shaken from the explosion, but alright. He drew his 1911...

Ooc- Yes, yes, I remember... We all make mistakes, even me... Hmm... He's dead, trapped in a vehicle when a C-4 vest, along with 1000s of rounds of ammo and fuel go off, there is nothing left of the BMP-3 or him... He is not shaken, he is in pieces...

OOC:Meh, whatever.

'Then the camera is yours. Please put the gun down.'



The sergeant shrugged, "No, I think you're coming with me..." He grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her close to him, grinning, "You spies just never learn unless it's learning the hard way..."

'Again, we are not spies. Please contact the nearest Momanguise official, I think we might have an embassy here. Besides, don't you have a battle to fight?'

The sergeant pushed her down, and then fired two round from his suppressed pistol into the camera, he then smashed his boot down on the camera. He holstered his pistol, taking his OICW off his sling, he smashed the butt of the rifle into the stomach of the man and then chuckled, "Yeah, you can all go, we have a battle to fight..."


He pulled his kevlar hood back down over his face and slowly walked off, with his squad, into the night.

The reporters helped their wounded comrade to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. Then holding him upright, like a blind mans stumble, they tottered into the night.

OOC:Meh, whatever.


Ooc- If you want, you can delete/edit that post you made, and have him give up and cooperate. If and when he cooperates, he can get out alive.

"All right, thank you," she said, grateful. She smiled at him for a minute and began to eat the meal in front of her.

He watched as she ate, when she finished, he smiled, "Enjoy?" he asked.
He prided himself on his cooks serving up a fine dish of pheasant, and he was hoping she enjoyed it.

She nodded. "It was wonderful, thank you so much, I feel better now."

He nodded and suddenly the phone rang, he walked over and answered it, "Yes, hello... What? Really? Okay, thank you..."

He hung up the phone and walked back over to her, "Well, they're pretty certain they've determined where your friend is... He was walking into the woods near the Don Salazar estate, near the Miguel Salazar estate, so we're pretty sure since he was in the Salazar area, he'll be on one of their estates... I know both Don and Miguel Salazar, they're good people, I'll call them right up."

She felt very relieved when he told her that her friend was safe. "I'm glad he's all right, thank you so much," she told him gratefully.

ooc: What happens to my people?

Fritz smiled at her, "Would you like to go to where he is? I can take you there, it'll just be a short ride... Or I can have you call him, and arrange something..."


Fritz picked up the phone, and called Don Salazar, and confirmed that the man was indeed there... He turned to her, "Yes, he's there..." and then said, "Do you want to speak to him?" He handed her the phone and Don handed his phone to the man.

ooc: What happens to my people?

*cough*

*cough*


Ooc- Ah yes.


Ic- As the Momanguise reporters were moving out of the area, they stumbled right into another Mississippian patrol. These men were not WSSAAS but rather Commonwealth Marines, pumped up on amphetamines and anti-communist training, along with other things. The squad leader smiled at the reporters as he trained his rifle on them, his men doing likewise... He then asked, "Are you all from some communist shit hole?"

This time they stood their ground, thier patriotism rising inside their chests. Gega, the youngest and most fiery of the team and opened his throat, bellowing his reply, 'We are from Momanguise, the greatest communist nation in the world. The only time we visit shit holes is when we visit other countries.' The others in the team cringed, they wouldn't have put it quite like that.

The sergeant raised his rifle up higher, pulling it tight against his shoulder, and then chuckled, laughing, "Then enjoy dying in this shit hole, with the nig---rs you probably so love... You're township trash." he then pulled the trigger back, letting a stream of bullets fly into the man's head, chest, and neck... After about three seconds of sustained fire, he eased his finger off the trigger and smiled at the others, "Any other smart ass remarks?"


The rest of the squad kept their rifles trained on them, ready for anything...

As Giga's broken and lifeless body fell to the floor, bleeding volumes from his unholy wounds. The two women let out gasping sobs of shock and horror and the eldest of the men, Sibili knelt by the body. He was nearly eighty, though he looked younger, and grasping his cross he rocked with his face to the sky, thick tears rolling down his cracked cheek. 'Just a boy,' he howled 'Just a boy.'

The sergeant spat in the old man's face and trained his rifle on him, "Shut up, old man, or do you want it too?"


One of the corporals leered at one of the women as he shouldered his rifle and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her over close to his body, he smiled, "I think I know what this one wants, eh?"

One of his comrades chuckled, "You're right, Momanguise women are whores, I heard about in a speech by Mladic."

The old man stared into the eyes of the sergeant, the cross still tightly clutched in his hand. 'Let the women go man. I am but an old invalid, I have seen my day and the cream of my youth. In the name of God sir, remember the good word of Jesus. Remember your human goodness.'

The sergeant erupted with laughter, "Communists that invoke the name of our Lord?" He spat tobacco juice in the old man's face and nodded at the corporal holding the woman that he could take her... The corporal, and one other soldier, dragged the woman off into a nearby alley. For the next twenty minutes or so, the old man heard her shouting and fighting as, in turn, they both had their way with her. They both emerged shortly later, fixing their belts and adjusting their rifles still slung over their shoulders.

One of the men spat in the old man's face as he walked by, "How is that for your communist goodness... You won't use our own consciences against us to sap us from within! You communists don't even count as human to us! You're nothing, worse than nothing!"

The man, shaking with rage and indignation shouted against the howling wind. 'My God knows you! He sees all that you do! My place in heaven is assured, even if I die now it will mean nothing to me, but you, you will be judged! God sees and His wrath will be terrible upon you!'

The corporal who had raped the woman turned to the private first class who had also done so... He smiled, "Well, that old man needs to learn a lesson eh?"

The PFC nodded and drove a knife into the old man's arm, before the corporal shot the old man with a pistol in both his kneecaps.


The corporal then grabbed the other woman and dragged her off into the alley, the squad grenadier following behind them. About twenty minutes later, they both emerged, dragging her out with them, they tossed her back in amongst with the others.

For no real reason at all, the corporal fired his rifle into the stomach of one of the other men in the group, laughing the entire time.

The sight gone from the old mans eyes, he fell to the ground and mumbling through blood caked lips, 'Forgive them father, they know not what they do'. His life force spent, he collapsed entirely, a ghostly death rattle forced through his dead throat.

Ooc- How did the old man die from being shot in the kneecaps? It was one of the other men who got drilled in the gut by the rifle... The old man was hit in the knees...

ooc: He's an old guy, you triggered his heart condition. Well done, I hope you can live with yourself.

The sergeant frowned and tapped the old man, wondering if he was dead or alive...

The squad medic rushed to the old man's side, and got out his AED (Automated External Defibulator) and started to attach it to the old man, working to save him.

The sergeant shrugged, "What the hell you wastin' yer time on that loser for.."

The medic spat in disgust, "Taking lives might be your job, saving them is mine..."


He kept working on the old man, sending a shock through him with the AED.


The sergeant sat around smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke in the face of one of the women sitting next to him. He smiled, offering it to her, "Want it?" he asked.

She said nothing, keeping her face as rigid as stone. Next to her, the old mans body shuddered, but it was the electricity not life. He was dead, and by his side the camera man knelt bleeding with his hand over his wound, grunting in pain.

The medic tossed the AED aside and started giving the old man CPR, shouting, "Come on... Come on, damnit!" he didn't like what his comrades had done, he wasn't sure he considered them comrades, they were on patrol messed up on aggression boosting drugs, alcohol, and various other things... They were wrecks.

It was a closely guarded secret, large segments of the armed forces had alcohol abuse problems, but most of the soldiers were at least wise enough to take their alcohol blocking pills after or before drinking, so they weren't affected. But these guys...


The medic started to pray, silently and then in whispers, as he continued to push down on the chest 15 times, then breathe into the man.



The sergeant slapped the woman in the face, "Hey, woman, I'm talking to you..."

Still she said nothing, her face refusing to move. Meanwhile the old man also refused to move, or it shoud be said his corpse refused to move.