NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: If you want in on this RP, please TG me. I have some plans with this RP as far as the effect it will have on Sarzonia, so this will set those plans in motion.]

The night sky quietly beckoned a serene invitation and President Mike Sarzo stepped outside. It took a lot of work for him to persuade his secret service to allow him to walk anywhere without an escort and he wanted to have some time alone. He finally got his wish as the chief of the service allowed him to walk the streets of Woodstock without an escort for the first time in months.

As he walked slowly down the cobbled streets of the historic district, he took a good look at the capital city he spent a great deal of time working with planners to construct. In a country that was one of the safest in the world, this city was by far the safest. The city’s record for most violent crimes in a year was in the single digits, and a strong police presence, ensured by new Woodstock mayor and former police chief Chip Moose, helped dissuade most of the petty thieves from trying their luck.

Sarzo stopped at an intersection on his way to the John Paul Stevens Building, passing by the statue of John Peter Zenger that was in front of the Journalism Museum. He scanned the area around him, aware of a presence he found disturbing.

“Maybe it’s all in your head, Mike,” Sarzo said to himself. He thought he saw a shadowy figure stalking him, but when he looked behind him, no one was there. Still, he got nervous. He picked up his cell phone and called the secret service.

“This is Barnaby,” came the call from the chief of the service.

“Barnaby, it’s the President. How soon can you send an escort here?”

Barnaby looked at the information imbedded in the GPS tracker that was placed in Sarzo’s phone. The display told him that the President was five minutes away by car.

“Fifteen minutes,” Barnaby said. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I just think maybe I should have walked around the East Lawn instead.”

“That’ll teach you, huh,” Barnaby said. “Next time, you don’t get to escape.”

Both men laughed. All of a sudden, Barnaby heard a scream from Sarzo’s end of the phone.

“Mr. President! All units, head to the 1400 block of Parliament Street on the double!”

By the time three agents hurried onto the scene, there was no evidence of the President even having been there, except for a dropped cell phone and a drop of blood on the LCD display, which had a sizable crack from a fall.

“I’ll be damned,” Agent Carey Holloway said. “Who the hell let him go?”

Lieutenant Brian Chafee didn’t say anything, but his stern demeanor hid his inward chortling. He authorized the solo trip and secretly fed the information about the President’s GPS tracking device to the group that was sent to kidnap him.

Within hours, the story was all over Sarzonia. Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis was away from the country on a rare vacation and Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Mark Lorber was at a conference. House Speaker Josh Williams was touring his home district in a brutal election campaign. They were in no position to prevent a series of StrikeForce tanks from rolling toward Parliament Hall and surrounding the building. With Senate President Pro Tempore Karen Beltran the last remaining person high enough on the government’s line of succession, she realized her choices were slim. She surrendered Parliament Hall to the insurgents.

When she made her decision, a masked man walked up with an arrogant stride.

“About time you made one right decision around here,” a familiar voice uttered from behind the mask. Beltran raised an eyebrow until the mask was removed.

“Terry! But, but.”

“I’m in charge now,” former Vice President for Defense Terrence Wilson said. “We’re going to do things my way from now on.”

Moments after Parliament Hall was seized by the insurgents, Wilson ordered a television camera to focus on him. Within minutes, his face beamed throughout Sarzonia.

"President Mike Sarzo has been arrested for crimes against the people of Sarzonia," Wilson said. "The government has gotten away from the ideals under which this country was founded. Due to the emergency situation throughout this world, I am announcing a new period of martial law. The Constitution will remain suspended indefinitely.

"Rest assured, Sarzo will pay terribly for the crimes he inflicted upon you. And that sonofabitch Jay Tyler will also suf-- uh, stand trial for the fraud he has perpetrated upon you, the Sarzonian people.

"We will pursue a new foreign policy of not sticking our noses where it doesn't belong and of not binding ourselves to too many nations in bonds of alliances that don't serve anyone well. We will restore marriage to its rightful place in Sarzonian society and we will ensure that marriage is as it should be, solely between a man and a woman."

Wilson looked with mounting scorn at a picture of Sarzo with Tyler. He snatched it from the wall and lit a match to it.

"This abomination will not stand," Wilson seethed, with scorn dripping from his voice as he spoke."

Minutes later, Wilson convened in the basement of Parliament Hall.

"The plan worked," Lt. General Marc Unger said.

"Yeah, but we're going to have to make sure we can get done what we want to get done before all hell breaks loose," Wilson said.

He reflected on the organization, the Restore Sarzonia Task Force, that he formed shortly after being fired as Vice President for Defense. He and the rest of the task force were biding their time, counting up their real and imagined grievances against the Sarzonian government. The establishment of federal benefits for civil unions instead of marriages was one trigger event, but the announcement that Sarzo and Tyler were an item drove Wilson to implement his plans.

Even though the relationship between Sarzo and Tyler was the first thing on his mind, he realized he would have to work on his other priorities first. Sarzo had a few friends and as long as Tyler was out of his clutches, there was little he could do to prevent those friends from stepping in.

Tyler saw the news report and freaked out.

"Uh oh, Mike's in trouble," he said out loud. He started wandering the Gray House in a panic. Suddenly, his cell phone rang.

"Tyler," he blurted out.

"Jay, this is Joe."

"Barnaby! I'm not sure if this is the best time," Tyler began. Barnaby stopped him in mid sentence.

"I just wanted to call you to let you know that we're going to keep you safe," Barnaby said. "We've got a detachment of tanks and troops that's headed to the Gray House to protect you. Besides that, we're going to have you go to the underground bunker."

"The bunker?"

"That's where we have the government go in the event of an attack on the capital. We've already had units seal it off so that the operatives don't go down there looking for you."

"What operatives," Tyler asked, finally letting his logic overcome his fears.

"The operatives are part of a terrorist group called the Restore Sarzonia Task Force. It's a right-wing organization that is hell bent on taking over the government and implementing isolationist policies and rolling back gay rights initiatives."

Tyler sighed. He knew it would come down to some kind of fight.

"So where does that leave me?"

"Until Nicole can come back, the line of succession is pretty much out the window," Barnaby said. "You're going to have to get the regular army units to trust you enough so that they listen to you instead of Terry."

"And call on a few friends," Tyler said. He knew that it would take a concerted effort not only to rescue Sarzo and restore him to the Presidency, but it would also take a fight to capture Wilson and all his operatives and bring them to justice. He wasn't sure if he could lead the charge, but he knew Sarzonia depended on him. He knew Mike depended on him.

Two secret service agents, both of whom happened to be longtime friends of Jay's, came by.

"We're here to escort you to the bunker," one of them said.

"Todd, thank God it's you," Tyler said.

"We've got to hurry. Insurgent tanks are on their way to surround the Gray House. You can't stay here."

The three men hurried down the stairs as their time above ground dwindled and the danger began to hang in the air like a thick fog of uncertainty.

*bump*

Wilson found an empty office in Parliament Hall. He would later find out the office was intended for the President to broker deals with members of Parliament and it could serve as an emergency office if the Gray House were destroyed. With the Gray House still under the control of the civilian government for now, Wilson decided to set up shop there.

He sat down and propped his feet up on the desk, putting a small scratch on the well-polished wooden surface with his dress boots. He had all sorts of plans that had to work perfectly: Capture Tyler and imprison him like he did to Sarzo; withdraw Sarzonia from most of its major alliances and undertake a period of isolationism; rescind the civil unions legislation that eliminated government recognition of marriage; undertake a major renovation program of the air force and army and sell off or scrap many of the foreign built naval vessels.

After jotting down his list of actions he wanted accomplished, he reflected on the events that got him there. He remembered with deep resentment the unceremonious dismissal he got from Sarzo that led him to resent his former boss. He remembered the aggressive spending program that quickly built the Sarzonian navy, but he decided he wanted the country to focus on ships built by the Portland Iron Works. To him, it made no sense that a country that became a major player in the shipbuilding industry would continue to buy ships from other countries, even if they were Sarzonia's closest allies.

He also recalled the forming of the Restore Sarzonia Task Force, which was secretly spearheaded by Senator Alex Looney, who demanded Sarzo call for a presidential election and submit to the constitutional limit of two six year terms. The organization was so named because he didn't want people to see it for what it was, a glorified terrorist organization. However, he soon realized he would have to subdue the military and prevent the people from starting riots and demanding that Sarzo be freed and restored to his office.

Meanwhile, Sarzo was bound and gagged in a cell deep in the bowels of a federal prison in Woodstock. It was a far cry from the comfortable bed he was used to in the Gray House, and it would likely be his home for a long time. When the guard wasn't looking, he allowed a tear to slide down his right cheek with the weight of the world seeming to go along for the ride.

Aimless von Strangaild watched the busy city of Naga below. His citidal was placed in his most favorite of cities. He watched as the sun slowly set over the horzion. He hated the fact his last name was Stangaild. It reminded him of his now dead brother Mike von strangaild who ruled over Zackaroth with the fist of Hell. He heard the events that had happened Sarzonia. The last thing he wanted was another country be runned by a crazy madman. That might inspire the old regime to strike up again. His advisor walked into the room. Keller had been aimless's mentor and friend since the age of 12. Keller cleared his throat to make his persence known.

Aimless: Oh hello Keller. Just admiring the sunset like always.
Keller: Sir are you ready to make your speech to the world.
Aimless: Yes,Yes. I feel though this might just be us. Tell al military units to be on stand. I want to planes to get fueled up and ready. This is it. This will test us if we are ready.

Aimless walks out to the blaconey. Many stories below him a crowed of people gathered. Huge screenns were set so they could all here him.

Aimless took a deep breath and began

" Hello people of our great nation!! *crowd chears.* I am here to annonce that the great nation of Sarzonia is now under controled of a terroist group under the leader ship of a man who will lead that country to hell!! Remeber mIke von Strangaild!!?? Well this is another one like him!! you say to yourselfs why interfere with another ones porblems. Why? Because other nations came to our aid in a time of need!! We need to repay the favor!! though they did not help us we need to help them. no matter what religon you it says to help others!! Christanity says to treat thy neighbor as thy self. Well we are!! We will treat them as they are part of our own country!!. We must put a stop to that man!! Remeber what Mike did to you?? he made you cut off your hands for food and fight for funerture!! What happenes if that man does worse?? We shall not stand by. This is why i say to the people of Sarzonia. Rebel against the evil that has over taken your country!!! Fight to your last breath!!! To your last bullet!! Do not stand there waiting to be freeded help us and we shall help you!! This is why i am declaring war upon the terroist group that has claimed Sarzonia!! I promise the citzens there they will be free... no matter what the cost!!!."

Aimless smiles as he sees the crowds approval through there chears and chants. They had recorded the message around the world. He hoped the so called new leader of Sarzonia would see this. Aimless made plans to deal with Wilson..... personally.... (( Dunn dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnn loll))

OOC: Permission to be involved, sir?

OOC : Combine of xen is me. I forgot i was on it and replied to this post. And you gotta TG him to join.

OOC: Permission to be involved, sir?[OOC: Of course! :)]

Ambassador Sir Whelen McCarthy (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v114/hamptonshire/bob_dole.jpg) stood silently in the small bunker underneath the Hamptonian Embassy in Woodstock. The events occuring around the capital, indeed around all of Sarzonia, were of great concern. It was true that Hamptonshire and Sarzonia were not exactly the closest of allies. The state of Hampto-Praetonian relations and the differing strategies of each nation's foriegn policies rarely brought the two nations to the same table.

Sir Whelen was on a secure satellite phone line with Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I himself. In Hamptonshire it was still early in the morning, Foreign Minister Ziller was away in Manium (to the advantage of all involved) and the Prime Minister was in the hospital for 'routine surgery'. There wasn't much either Sir Whelen or the Grand Duke could do about the situation. It all came down to the last words the Grand Duke said before ending the conversation: "Offer them assylum, offer them assistance, offer them what they need...just bring all requests through me. I don't want Olendorf, Ziller, and their gang to mess this up."

"Ambassador," Major Kathleen Ambor, the Embassy Security Officer, said while handing Sir Whelen a file folder, "the Embassy grounds are secure. I've also taken the liberty of assembling the Royal Police Officers in the Security Office."

The Royal Police Officers she referred to were ten members of the elite 2nd Royal Police Urban Combat Commando Brigade. There presence in the Embassy at the time of the crisis was a stroke of pure luck; the Urban Commandoes (as they are called) were participating in a training mission and were testing the security procedures of the Royal Marines charged with defending the Embassy Compound. Each Commando was a urban fighthing machine pure and simple. A team of twenty-five officers could wreck havoc in a major city. The ten officers could provide Sir Whelen with nearly any service he could ask for.

"Major, try to send an encoded message to the Sarzonia Government here in Woodstock. Tell them..." he paused as he tried to think of what to say, "Tell them that we can provide assylum as well as 'extraction' services." Sir Whelen wanted to tell the Sarzonians about the ten Commandoes, but their presence in Sarzonia wasn't fully 'kosher'. Part of the security tests depended on surprise, a fact that would be lost if all the paperwork had to be filed.

"Yes, sir." the Major replied. Before she could begin the transmission, Sir Whelen interrupted her "Tell them that we have on the Embassy ground ten officers of the 2nd Royal Police Urban Combat Commando Brigade." Major Ambor paused in stunned silence at the request, she quietly began to transmitt the message.

Returning to his secure diplomatic communications line, Ambassador McCarthy asked several trusted friends in the Foreign Ministry Building in Hamptonshire City to relay messages to Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis and Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Mark Lorber. Each message contained the same information as the transmission sent to the Sarzonian Government in Woodstock with one exception: the promise of Royal Armed Forces troops to restore law and order.

Sir Stanley Hargreaves, the Isselmere-Nielander ambassador, heard the caterpillar treads of the armoured columns move through the Sarzonian capital with alarm. Had this occurred near a national holiday – for the King in Daurmont loved a good parade – Sir Stanley would have dismissed the event as simple preparations for the big day. But this was Woodstock. Immediately, he contacted his chief aide, Penelope Nichols, and the military attaché, Owen Gibbet for any information they had on opposition to President Sarzo as well as any intelligence they had on troop movements. Both, however, were as surprised as Sir Stanley.

Major Stuart Fosterbridge, commander of the small Royal Marine detachment serving as embassy guards within the compound was put through. Quickly, he informed the ambassador that the roads were otherwise peculiarly quiet and empty. A coup, thought Sir Stanley, but why?

The ambassador attempted to contact the Gray House and other members of the executive, but somehow failed to get a response. Hostile coup response procedures were put into effect in expectation of a worst case scenario. Sensitive papers were destroyed and computers wiped while the Royal Marine detachment donned full battle dress. Sir Stanley contacted the UKIN government about his interpretation of the situation in Woodstock and awaited further orders.

----

In Daurmont, the Foreign Minister, Sir George Fredericks, received startling news from Woodstock. Swiftly, he informed the Prime Minister, Oliver Yardmouth, who was equally surprised. He rang the Defence Minister to prepare for a complete mobilisation upon receiving proof of coup. Likewise he informed Sir George to contact allied embassies, particularly that of the UKIN’s other great ally, Jimnam, to muster their support behind President Sarzo’s cause should it be necessary. Next, he rang the King who was terribly shocked. And last, he did what he dreaded most at this terrifying moment and rang the Sarzonian ambassador to offer his sympathy.

----

The Chief of Defence Staff entered entered the briefing room looking shattered. None of the service chiefs had yet been told of the drama in Woodstock.

“We have a dreadful task before us, gentlemen. I have just been informed that there might have been a coup in Sarzonia. Details at the present moment are sketchy, but the King has ordered a full mobilisation just in case. We need several fleets ready to sail as soon as possible and I want the Army to be ready to embark forthwith. Space forces, prepare to neutralise but not destroy spaceborne Sarzonian intelligence assets. As for the Air Force, your job is the same as always: defend our skies against enemy attack.”

“Should the need come, we will face tremendous opposition. We may face some Isselmere-Nielander products, as well as the impressive designs of the Portland Iron Works. No one ever said defending what’s right was ever easy. You have your tasks, now get to work.”

----

Official Communiqué from His Isselmerian and Nielander Majesty’s Government

We, Henry the Fifth,* King of Isselmere and Nieland, note with great alarm the state of disruption that currently exists in Woodstock. We hope that His Exalted Excellency, President Mike Sarzo, and the First Partner, Mr Tyler, are in no danger, and that the just and true government of Sarzonia is still in place. Should that not be the case, we shall endeavour to restore the legitimate authority with all of the means at our disposal. On this we remain firm.

Signed,
HM the King
Henry V

[*I presume this takes place after Robert VI’s abdication. :)]

"Phillip, what sort of help can we provide?" the Grand Duke asked his trusted friend and aide over the telephone.

"Highness, we can send several Squadrons as well as four, perhaps five divisions should they be called for." Lord Rosecrans responded. He was visiting a new Royal Army Base in Scotland when the crisis in Sarzonia erupted.

"Alright, but I also want several Airborne and Air Assault divisions ready to aide the Sarzonian Government. You needn't remind me about the hazards of airborne operations against urban areas. Unfortunately this sort of situation is very time sensitive and only airborne units have the speed necessary." the Grand Duke said while pacing his bedroom.

"I'll inform unit commanders immediately." Lord Rosecrans paused "Sir, I would also like your permission to prepare to send addition Royal Police Urban Commando units to Sarzonia. Even if they don't attack the rebels, they can provide extraction services."

The Grand Duke paused and stopped pacing, he hung up the ear piece and switched Lord Rosecrans to the speaker phone. One of the Grand Duke's personal valets turned on the shower while another layed out the Grand Duke's formal navy blue uniform. He rarely wore it, he found the frock coat uncomfortable, but whenever an important matter of state occurred he would appear in that same blue uniform.

As he walked toward the bathroom he finished up his conversation, "Do what you need to to Phillip, and do remember to coordinate with Ambassador McCarthy. I'll be heading off to the Sarzonia Embassy in about an hour to meet with their Ambassador. Perhaps I can gather some information or at least offer safehaven."



[OOC: Sarzonia, just ready your Ambassador to Hamptonshire for a meeting with a "Senior Government Official". You set your stuff up and I'll bring in my person.]

Ambassador Neil Collins was pacing around his office nervously. He hadn't been listening to the news but he knew something was wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it, nor could he figure out the reason for his trepidation.

"Have you heard anything from Woodstock," he asked his assistant, Marie Pressley. She was sifting through messages that included everything from male enhancement ads to the latest sweepstakes offer to a promotion offering $2,500 Sarzonian for the best computer mutiliation of Mel Ziller. All of a sudden, she clicked on one message that had URGENT in the subject line. That's what they all say, she thought. It must have been one of those damn Talzeckians begging for money. When she opened the message, she realized it was anything but.

"President Mike Sarzo has been kidnapped by the Restore Sarzonia Task Force and they have placed Terry Wilson in charge of the country," the e-mail began. Terry, Pressley read that name with a shiver. Wilson's brusque manner with his employees was notorious throughout Woodstock. "They are holding him in a jail cell in the depths of Woodstock. I am in a secure location trying to get a handle on the situation." -- Jay.

"Mr. Ambassador, read this," Pressley said. Collins walked over, thinking she was pointing him to another "urgent" message that could have been handled by his chief of staff. He'd have to have a word with Pressley about her sense of priority. When he saw the first lines, he knew she was right about this one.

"Kidnapped. A coup? Damn it!" He punched the wall with his right hand, making a hole in the wall.

"Sir, I've got a call from a senior government official here in Hamptonshire. He wants to meet with you to discuss plans."

Collins sighed. He thought for sure the next message from Woodstock would have been to vacate the embassy and return home, but he was now going to have to humor Hamptonian officials a while longer.

"Very well. Get the conference room ready for us. We're going to have to be ready to meet with him."

"Got it." Pressley scrambled up from her seat and immediately began the preparations. Collins walked toward the window and looked out at the Isselmeran-Nielander embassy and took a deep breath. His faraway glance spoke volumes about his state of mind with everything going on.

The Royal Motorcade quickly made its way through the empty streets of the Government District. Since the Soigacas Terror attacks thirty-seven years ago private vehicles were banned from most of Hamptonshire City. As the Motorcade turned into the Diplomatic District most of the escort vehicles pulled off, four identical black limos and eight black SUVs drove the final few miles to the Sarzonian Embassy.

The Grand Duke was slightly nervous, it had been quite some time since he had been so active in such an important affair. As the Motorcade approached the Embassy, he leaned over to one of his aides and told her, "I'm going to offer them assylum, military aide, and the assurance that Hamptonshire will never acknowledge the rebels as the rightful government of Sarzonia." He didn't so much want to announce his plans as to seek validation. While as Grand Duke he had the power and authority to act, it would mean going aganist several Ministers and most of the Royal Senate. "I'm just going to take this one day at a time", he told himself.

The Motorcade came to a stop in front of the entrance to the Embassy Compound. Three dozen black-clad Omega Guards rushed from their vehicles to guard the Grand Duke as he left his vehicle. Promptly brushing aside his protectors, the Grand Duke walked up to a rather confused looking Sarzonian. "I believe the Ambassador is expecting me."

Clarence Easton looked at the Grand Duke with a raised eyebrow that barely hid his shock when he realized that Reginald Leopold I himself was standing less than a meter away from him and requesting entrance. He picked up his communications device.

"Easton to command room."

"Bridger here."

"Uh, the government official is here to see the Ambassador." Collins heard the message and responded next.

"I'll be right down." Expecting to see Ziller or one of the cabinet ministers or somesuch official, his eyes widened slightly when he opened the door and the Grand Duke was standing there. He knew someone important was coming but he didn't know it was THE most important man in Hamptonshire.

"Your Excellency," Collins said, after a split second attempt to compose himself. "Please, come in."

The Grand Duke walked purposefully into the building and followed Collins to the situation room. He walked past the simple decor of the embassy toward the situation room, where a flat screen monitor sat at the foot of a table.

"I'm sure you understand the bind we're in," Collins said. "The President is in a prison and we don't know what our government is going to be up to in these next few days." Collins took a slow, ragged breath of someone who wished he had answers and didn't know how to phrase his questions. He looked into the Grand Duke's face, almost hoping he had a magic solution that would be the panacea for his country's problem.

"I am here to offer the full assistance of my Government, the Royal Armed Forces of Hamptonshire, and whatever else is required to end this coup." the Grand Duke carefully pulled out a chair and sat down. "As far as Hamptonshire is concerned, Mike Sarzo is still President, and either Nicole Lewis or Mark Lorber is Acting President. There is only one true government of Sarzonia and that is one lead by President Sarzo."

With a gentle movement, as not to reveal the arthritis slowly ravaging his shoulders, the Grand Duke removed several sheets of e-paper from his frock coat. He carefully handed them to Ambassador Collins. "Those are the transmissions we have been sending to Grey House as to Mrs. Lewis and Mr. Lorber. We are ready to commit several divisions to the restoration of law and order should we be asked...please read over the documents."

The Grand Duke could see that Collins was in a state of shock and confusion. The kidnapping of a President is bad enough, a coup is even worse. He stopped the Ambassador, leaned toward him and softly spoke "If it at any time becomes necessary you, your family, the Embassy staff, and their families may request assylum. I will personally assure your safety."


[OOC: The e-papers contain: The transmissions Ambassador McCarthy sent, information about the Royal Police Commando Units, and details about two Airbone Divisions ready for immediate deployment.]

Daurmont, Isselmere, UKIN

The sedan bearing Sir George Fredericks arrived at the gates of the Sarzonian embassy. With him, he bore two letters, one from the King expressing his deepest sympathy and one from the Prime Minister apologising that neither the Head of State nor the Head of Government could be there at the present time owing to an urgent meeting of the Council of State and an emergency session of Parliament to present discuss the situation in Sarzonia. Sir George brought with him assurances that the Government would do its utmost to provide the ambassador with all the information available from Woodstock and the UKIN intelligence services as well as word that three of the four RINN Rapid Reaction Fleets and the remaining Littoral Warfare Fleet were on their way to Sarzonia, having already been at sea owing to the recent confrontation over Spain.

As Sir George waited, he hoped the ambassador would understand the delays and absences. Time would tell...

Ambassador Joseph Evans was surfing the Internet looking for anything that could lend clues to the escalating crisis in Woodstock. A government that normally was forthcoming about information the embassy needed was suddenly deathly quiet. Evans knew something was going on, but he didn't know exactly what.

"Mr. Ambassador, we've withdrawn from NATO, SEATO and the ESUS," Connie Bergkamp, his personal secretary, said as she combed the Associated Sarzonian Press newswire feeds. "Wilson's taken over the government."

"Wilson? As in the former Vice President for Defense?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Son of a bitch." Just then, Evans's chief of staff, a man whose boyish appearance and demeanor belied his 42 years of age, walked into the office.

"Mr. Ambassador," Connor Davis said. "Sir George Fredericks is here to see you."

"Bring him right in," Evans said. Finally, someone who can bring a level head into the mix. He put on his best smile when Fredericks walked into the room.

"Sir George, it's a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise," Fredericks said, "though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances." He then handed the letters to Evans, who read them. Evans then fixed a wan smile in an effort to reassure Fredericks.

"That's not a problem. I'm sure our legitimate government would understand. I certainly do.

"I have received a request from Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis for exile here in Daurmont. She said she would like to handle governmental operations as the legitimate acting President of Sarzonia. She said it could either be this embassy or another location of your choosing. I believe Senior Vice President for External Affairs Mark Lorber is on his way to Schultaria Prime to negotiate an alliance with them and he would like to travel to Praeton for exile there.

"I'm very sorry to have to put your government through all this trouble," Evans said, hanging his head slightly at what he imagined to be a major debate in the Isselmerian-Nielander Parliament. He hoped Sarzonia's longest-standing ally would understand.

Sir George chuckled at the thought of Parliament having difficulty supporting Sarzonia at this dreadful time. "You needn't worry, your Excellency. Apart from the Monarchist Party, we expect to have no troubles in Parliament. As for the Council of State, the Peers might argue a bit, but in the end they'll come 'round," he assured Ambassador Evans. "His Majesty and the Prime Minister merely wished to guarantee that our support for the legitimate government receives Royal Assent as soon as possible.

"As for asylum, His Majesty's Government cheerfully grants it to Senior Vice President Lewis and any other Sarzonian who seeks it," Sir George continued. "We shall make whatever intelligence on this subject we might obtain available to your excellencies, though I must admit that our intelligence personnel in Sarzonia were happily more accustomed to attending dinner parties than the cruder aspects of their profession.

"We already have three rapid reaction fleets and one of our two littoral fleets en route to Sarzonia to make known our absolute faith in President Sarzo and the legitimate government," he concluded. "We shall not let our friends down."

The citizens of Pacitalia are praying with you for the safe return of President Sarzo, and are disgusted with the behaviour of the monster of the man who calls himself the leader of the great nation of Sarzonia. We do not recognize Terrence Wilson as a President, let alone a human being.

To the true citizens of Sarzonia, sitting helpless under the foolish and moronic regime of Wilson and to our friend, Mr. Jay Tyler: If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask us. We're here with anything you need and without question, willing to help you. The SAFD is ready to take down the kidnappers and arrest Wilson and his cronies if you so request it. That's what friends are for.

- Prime Minister Timothy Ell

Encrypted Communique

To: Nicole Lewis, Senior Vice President for Internal Affairs, The Incorporated States of Sarzonia
From: Abdullah Sharif, Head of State, The Arab Republic of Al-Sabir

Ms. Lewis,

The kidnapping of your most illustrious President, a true pioneer on the subject of civil rights, calls for a response by Al-Sabir, always an admirer of your incumbent President.

In order to maintain a positive, bilateral relationship with The Incorporated States, Al-Sabir recognises Mr. Sarzo as the Sarzonian Head of State and is willing to assist in restoring the legitimate government.

Therefore, we offer the immediate deployment of a small detachment of special forces, which will start their hunt for Mr. Wilson and return him in Sarzonian hands alive, as a captive, meanwhile participating in the search for Mike Sarzo.

Of course, if outside involvement is not what you wish, feel free to reject our offer.

Awaiting Reply,

Abdullah Sharif
Head of State
The Arab Republic of Al-Sabir

Sharif AFB

The compact C-286 Atlas faded slowly in the raging sandstorm, just visible if you were three feet away. Aboard, 50 Delta Force operatives seemed somewhat disgruntled by their delayed departure, resulting them being stuck for another three hours in the cramped spaces of the transport. To kill some time, some cards were flipped and most D-boys were engaged in some careless conversation with their neighbour about were to book their next holiday, or something similar. Not a single one of them displayed any worries about their risky assignment this time, at least from the outside.

Flanking the tailless light strategic transport was a larger cargo aircraft, a box winged MC-216 Ranger, crammed full with everything ranging from compact generators to MREs, portable radios and ammunition, all the Deltas might need to support themselves for up to three weeks.

Next were two more Rangers, this time relatively empty and just stuffed with 120,000 kg of jet fuel, all, they would need to supply the two other aircraft with fuel for the long trip to Sarzonia

To: Generalissimo J.L.
From: Ambassador Terry Sarzo

A grave crisis has afflicted Sarzonia. A disgruntled former Vice-President of Defense, Terry Wilson, has staged a coup d'etat and deposed the Hon. Mike Sarzo, democratically-elected President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia, and unlawfully seized power. Sir, this catastrophe, if left unfettered, will result in profound consequences for our nation, Sarzonia, and the globe. As a steadfast and unwavering ally of Sarzonia, it is our moral duty to liberate Sarzo from prison and return him to power. Not only moral reasons must be considered, but commercial ones as well. We have no way of knowing how friendly this new government will be to RB-Sarzonian commercial relations. An even stronger consideration is Wilson's stance on international affairs. Sarzo was an ardent promoter of world peace and human rights, and a staunch believer in the existence and maintenance of cordial relations between all countries. Does Wilson share Sarzo's view? These are chances not worth taking. Most importantly- at least in my opinion- is the personal consideration: Sarzo is more than just an ally, he is a close friend of yours. He has not only stood by our nation through thick and thin, but has been an unconditional and loyal friend to you personally. Anyway, I will provide you with updated information upon its availability. I await your response.

To: Ambassador Terry Sarzo
From: Generalissimo J.L.

I am sickened, horrified, and appalled by the duplicitous and diabolical actions of Wilson. His actions will be swiftly and severely chastised, politically, economically, and militarily. Mike has guided Sarzonia with integrity, intelligence, charisma, patriotism, and compassion for many years, as both a strong leader and a humble servant of the people. His wise and benevolent leadership has brought his great nation abundant happiness, prosperity, and prestige. His tireless commitments to liberty, human rights, and dignity have always been an inspiration to me. His warm friendship is one of the greatest gifts ever given to me by anyone. I am privileged and honored to call President Mike Sarzo my friend. Mike and his great nation and its wonderful people deserve our utmost support. I believe our best option now is to encourage a counter-coup which will topple Wilson's regime and re-instate Mike as the rightful President of Sarzonia. If that fails, military action to rescue him will be strongly considered. We will be unceasing in our quest to save Mike, his people, and his nation.

Lewis was in her limousine riding toward Woodstock after her vacation in Pacitalia. She enjoyed getting the opportunity to try some delicious food and stumble her way through an unfamiliar language and she was looking forward to getting back to her mansion and getting some sleep after a long ride.

Her cell phone rang, and thinking it was Sarzo asking her if her vacation was "off the hook," she said, "hey" with a wide smile on her face. Within seconds, that smile was wiped away.

"Nicole, it's Mark," Lorber said with fear on the tips of each word. "Mike has been kidnapped and is being held hostage."

"What! Who could have done this?"

"Terry Wilson."

"Oh fuck," she said, holding the cell phone closer to her ear and sitting up, hunched over, in her seat to listen to Lorber give the details of what happened to the President.

"We've got to do something," Lorber said.

"But what," Lewis asked.

"We've got to take asylum somewhere and try to run things from there."

"Where?"

"How about Hamptonshire?"

"Hamptonshire! Forget it," Lewis said. "Let's go to Isselmere. It's safer there and we've been allies almost as long as we've been a country."

"We shouldn't both be in the same location," Lorber warned. "It'd make things easier for the RSTF. We should go to separate countries. I'll go to Praetonia and you go to Isselmere. That way, the terrorists will have to breach two powerful allies rather than just one."

"Sounds like a plan," Lewis said. She hung up the phone then buzzed the driver.

"Take me back to Sarzonia Two," she said.

"Madame Senior Vice President?"

"Just do it. I can't explain why now. Hurry!"

The car made a dangerous U-turn on Interstate 35 and screeched back toward the landing site for Sarzonia Two. Lewis took a deep breath and realized that she would now have to project the calm that seemed to come easily to her friend Mike if she were going to lead the way toward saving his life and restoring him to his rightful place in the Gray House.

"Calm down and think, Nicole," she said. When the car reached Sarzonia Two, she grabbed her suitcase and trudged on board as quickly as she could with the heavy suitcase. Her aide had just arrived in the cabin to collect the briefcase that carried Lewis's laptop and she came up behind him.

"Put that back down and open it so I can use it," she said. The aide jumped out of shock, not expecting his boss to return so quickly. "Get an air force escort for me and take us to Daurmont," she said. She opened the laptop and plugged it in. She read the message from Abdullah Sharif.

"Al Sabir? Aren't they in OMP with us," she mused. She suddenly remembered they were and began typing her response:

Thank you for contacting us regarding our situation with President Sarzo and that despicable excuse for a human being Terrence Wilson. We have our secret service and several special operations forces already on the case and we hope to have the situation resolved soon. We'll have to decline your request for now, but we thank you anyway.

Lewis clicked send. She then typed a message to Sarzonian allies:

Attention allies and friends of Sarzonia:

You are all aware of the fact that a group of terrorists who call themselves the Restore Sarzonia Task Force has kidnapped President Mike Sarzo and has put former Vice President for Defense Terrence Wilson in power. I am here to let you know that until Sarzo is rescued and restored to power, I am officially the acting President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia. I ask you all not to recognize Mr. Wilson as the leader of Sarzonia or as the voice of our country in any way. If you need anything from our government, please contact me. I will be conducting the government's business at a secure location.

The real citizens of Sarzonia love freedom and they love their President. We can't allow a madman with false dreams of grandeur to besmirch our name. Thank you for listening.

Nicole Lewis
Acting President, Incorporated States of Sarzonia

Lewis clicked send and waited as the jet took off and settled in among the fighter jet escort for the trek to Isselmere-Nieland.

Official Govenment Response

Nicole Lewis is hereby recognized as the official, sovereign head of state of Sarzonia until Mike Sarzo is re-instated as President. Any and all support requested by Ms. Lewis will be provided.

His Majesty, on the advice of His Government, recognises Nicole Lewis as the pro tem President of Sarzonia pending the restoration of Mike Sarzo to the Gray House.

His Majesty's Government wishes to assure the Sarzonian people we shall co-operate fully with Acting President Lewis to bring the traitors involved in this coup to justice in accordance with Sarzonian law and eternal justice.

Never fear -- assistance is forthcoming!

The Rt. Hon. Oliver Yardmouth
Prime Minister
UKIN

----

The UKIN Space Agency has begun launching powerful communications satellites to fly over Sarzonia to transmit the voice of the legitimate government of Sarzonia. Operation Radio Free Sarzonia commences...

Nicole Lewis has been recognized as President of Sarzonia until such time that President Sarzo can be returned to power. Again, any help that you need will be provided.

OOC: If we'd known Hon. Lewis was in Pacitalia we would have provided security escorts for her between the time Sarzo was kidnapped and her return to Sarzonia. ;)

Press Release:


The Grand Duchy of Hamptonshire, the Royal Government, and the People of Hamptonshire at this time officially recognize Nicole Lewis as the Acting President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia. The organization known as the "Restore Sarzonia Task Force" is now recognized as a terrorist organization.

Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I, with the advise of the Privy Council, has made available to the Sarzonia Government the use of Royal Armed Forces and Intelligency Ministry personnel and equipment to end this rebellion. His Royal Highness has pledged to provide any all and assitance required to restore President Sarzo to his rightful office.

Issued By:

Lord Patrick Easton
President of the Privy Council
Grand Duchy of Hamptonshire


[OOC: Don't forget about the transmissions that I sent to the Grey House and your two Government-in-Exile officials.]

Aimless walks around his Conference room rubbing his temples. His eyes look very sleepy and his movements are almost drunk like.

Aimless: Ok so lets get this straight. We cannot get t Sarzonia because there is no one thereto aid us!!

Bishop 1: No, not really. There may be a rebel uprising but that havent heard your speech yet.

Bishop 2: I say we go in. Bomb there cities. Send in troops via para drops and weaking them.

Aimless: First of all we have no idea what the enemy look like and second we have no support from anybody in that nation!!. And bombing the cities would kill the people we are trying to help. Infact i didnt even know there was a Sarzonia until yesterday!!

Bishop 1: Maybe you should have paid more close atttioen to the outsode world.

Aimless: So we have no plan thus meaning we have no invasion. just freaking perfect!! you know what?? You 2 leave now. You are not giving much help.

The 2 bishops leave the room mumbling to them selfs.

Aimless: I dont have anything!! No plan!! No offensive strike!! Nothing!! Anybody who cared to see my message in Sarzonia will not rebel. there all to afriad. I just need somethiing!1 I cant contact because i have no idea what who!!.

Aimless kicks a chair angerly and walks out of the room.

OOC: sorry for lack of response. I have been away for awhile and i have the freaking whopping cough.

bump

Sarzonia Two touched down at the airport in Daurmont after a flight that only seemed to be three minutes short of eternity. She was feverishly studying international reactions and gauging the effect the coup in Woodstock had on the international community. She called Lorber as soon as the jet came to a stop.

"Lorber."

"Hey, it's Nicole."

"Yes, Madame President?"

"Mark!"

"Oh, sorry." Even though it was proper protocol to call Lewis "Madame President," she was adamantly against this piece of formality. In her mind, the true leader of her country was the man she wanted to rescue. In fact, she'd want to do it personally if she could. But there was no time for her to debate the relative merits of the greeting. She had a job to do. But first, she had to get over her nagging bundle of nerves.

"I wish Mike were here planning this," she said. "He'd know what to do."

"But Mike's not here. They're probably expecting us to follow his template for how to solve problems. We're going to have to get things done on our own."

"I guess you're right. Well, so far, I've received word that four governments are recognizing me as acting President until we get Mike back in office."

Lorber breathed a sigh of relief. "Which ones?"

"Hamptonshire," Lewis said, dragging it out reluctantly. "Isselmere-Nieland, Pacitalia, and Roach-Busters. Oh, and Al-Sabir."

"That's good. Sounds like we've got people on our side then. Now let's go rescue Mike."

"Not so fast," Lewis said. "You don't rush off to war without a battle plan and you don't go rushing off into a den of thieves without a plan. We need to develop a plan and then go in to rescue Mike. But in the meantime, the more we can discredit Wilson in the eyes of the world, the more it will help our chances of getting people to see what Sarzonia really is."

"Have you seen the report from Hamptonshire?"

"Whi--- oh! Yeah."

"Royal Police Commando Units," Lorber said, slowly, thinking carefully about the words and the description of the Hamptonian elite force. "Hey, that's against our embassy guidelines!"

"This is no time for that. They're in Woodstock now, we might as well put that to good use. Do you have anyone over there who can coordinate things?"

"I don't have anyone from my department who isn't packing his bags trying to get the Hell out of Dodge. What about Jay?"

"Tyler? Maybe he can help coordinate things."

"For one thing, he's going to have to help get to the bottom of the RSTF. How did they know exactly where to find Mike and who in the secret service authorized his departure without an escort?"

"That's going to have to come later, Mark. Right now, we need to take care of objective number one, and that's to rescue Mike. Call Jay. Encrypt the message the best you can and have the commander of the Royal Police Commando Units coordinate with Jay."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Thanks." Mike may not have been there to provide the answers or even a guiding hand, but if he were, his two top deputies were sure that he'd be pleased.

The Prime Minister sat at his desk in his glass office at the top of the beehive-shaped New Prado, contemplating. His two deputy PMs and his minister of defence sat nervously awaiting his reply. Finally, Senior Deputy PM Nikos Karagounis broke the silence.

"Er, Mr. Prime Minister?" he asked cautiously.

The Prime Minister had his hands together underneath his nose in a tent formation. He sat quietly, calmly; it was as if you could see the cogs working out a plan inside his head. After about twenty seconds, he responded.

"Okay, we know the situation. We know that whatever they are, whoever they are, they won't stop until President Sarzo backs off and officially announces his resignation as leader of the Incorporated States. And we damn well know he won't. We don't want him to either, is that correct?" the PM inquired.

Junior Deputy PM Lisa Lomas spoke up. "That's correct, sir."

PM Ell sat up a little in his leather chair. "Here's how I see it. We're obviously not the only ones wanting to help Acting President Lewis, S3A Tyler and President Sarzo regain control of the nation. There's Isselmere-Nieland, Roach-Busters and Hamptonshire also willing to help. Sarzonia's forces and law enforcement are pretty powerful too. But I know that it's important we contribute as well. I would regret, both personally and, to a lesser extent, politically, if we did nothing. I also know that we are unsure whether the military and police forces of Sarzonia are answering to Wilson or to Acting President Lewis."

The three subordinate cabinet ministers nodded.

"I know President Sarzo and Acting President Lewis would be grateful for our help, no matter how large or small it is. That's not the point. The point is to help. I don't think giving a third of the SAFD with equipment to Hon. Lewis for her temporary use is too much to ask. Any disagreements?"

"Sir, that's almost 200,000 men. Are you sure?" Lomas piped up.

The Prime Minister gave her a look that said she should never have asked that question. Now was a time of trust; now was a time to help out one of Pacitalia's strongest friends and allies. As third-in-command, she should have realized it before her voice spoke the words. He frowned in disapproval.

"Lisa, we're conservatives," Ell said. "We think sensibly and rationally FIRST. Giving Sarzonia ALL of the SAFD would be irrational. I'm not doing that. Who says all 200,000 men would be going anyway? They'd probably only need a quarter of that to get the country back in rightful control."

"I understand, sir," Lisa replied. "But you haven't considered humanitarian aid. We should seriously look into that, as well as military help. I'm afraid I can't support this decision of yours if you don't consider the human aspects of what the SAFD may do."

"Good point, Lisa," the PM reported. "However, you know the SAFD are extremely well-trained; I think it is safe to say they know what to go for and what to leave alone. They can spot danger ten thousand miles away. That's why I'm sending them and not just the regular armed forces."

"Are you patronizing me, sir?" Lisa asked with a hint of rage. She stood up violently and glared at the Prime Minister. Nikos and Defence Minister Venizelos turned with a look of confusion, then exchanged worried glances.

"Sit down, Lisa," Prime Minister Ell said. "Now."

"No! For years, you arrogant southern Pacitalian bastards have forced your moronic policies on those who do not wish to follow them. This is the endgame, Mr. Prime Minister." Lisa pulled a small pistol from a garter underneath her long flowered skirt and pointed it at the PM. "Say hello to your, now I guess former, junior deputy PM, but always a senior agent of the GLNP, Lisa Lomas. And if you were further curious, I'm also in charge of the GLNP vendetta that's helping the RSTF stay in power in Sarzonia."

Defence Minister Venizelos gasped. "Ciò è impossibile!" This is impossible!

The Prime Minister sat unmoved. "What the hell do you expect to accomplish by shooting me, Lisa?" He calmly moved his hand to the set of buttons underneath the desk. Starting from the first one, he counted down five. The fifth button, he remembered, was for Lisa Lomas.

Lisa smirked. "This country needs good leadership. And I have sat here long enough waiting for you to get the hell out. This last election was the final nail in the coffin for you." She laughed. "Mind the pun."

Almost at the same time as the last syllable left her lips, four officers of the Prime Ministerial Guard burst in. Holding up their SMGs, they shot Lisa quickly. She was dead before she hit the ground.

"Dio mio!" SDPM Karagounis said. "How could this have happened? Well, she IS Spanish and from Northeastern Pacitalia."

The Prime Minister frowned at the lifeless corpse of Lisa Lomas. "I don't know. I just don't. But she is second priority right now. We still need to think of a plan to help Sarzonia out."

"Of course, sir." Karagounis replied. Defence Min. Venizelos nodded his assent.

Ten seconds later, a military ambulance arrived to clean up the mess. The three men left for a secure chamber on the other side of the Prado, saying nothing. Shock filled them.

The Royal Police usually acted as a military police, urban combat, and peacekeeping force. Urban Combat Commando Units were the exception. Arguably the most elite fighting force in the Royal Armed Forces, the Commandos were above and outside the normal military. Nominally Royal Police Officers, they reported to and received their orders not from superior officers within the military or from the Defense Ministry- they were directly under the Intelligence Minister himself.

Lieutenant Colonel James Vincent, the XO of the 2nd Royal Police Urban Combat Commando Brigade and the commanding officer of the team sent to the embassy, quietly stood in the corner of the room watching Ambassador McCarthy and the Embassy Staff. While everyone was busy with their work some still looked over their shoulder carefully to steal a glimpse at Vincent.

Lt. Colonel Vincent typified the 'ordinary' Commando: brave, dedicated, intelligent, patriotic, fierce, and imposing. Commandos weren't physically much different from any other soldier or civilian. In fact, they had to look unremarkable. People that stand out...well, stand out. The imposing nature and ability to intimidate came from their personality. They always looked ready to kill someone or blow up a building. Of course, they were always ready to kill or destroy.



"We still haven't heard anything from the Sarzonians." Major Ambor whispered to McCarthy.

"Keep your ears and eyes open, Major. I'm still receiving information from the Intelligence Ministry."

"Alright, sir." she was about to turn to leave, but stopped, "What about the Commandos?" she said while avoiding the presence of Colonel Vincent.

"That depends on the Sarzonians."

Wilson watched the reports come in. No country had stepped up to the plate and recognized him as the leader of Sarzonia.

"God damn it! What's it going to take, killing Sarzo? Serves that prick right," he growled. He looked at a gun that was sitting at the desk where the supervisor of Sarzo's cell sat. He had left one of his underlings to keep an eye on the deposed leader while he went to the restroom.

I should take this gun and blow his brains out. With Lewis and Lorber not here and Williams and Beltran under wraps, no one can keep me from my rightful title.

He picked up the gun and thought for a moment. He realized that his "government" was going to be under intense international pressure before very long. Isselmere had several fleets underway and Wilson knew the statements of support from other Sarzonian allies meant they would be sending something before long. Killing Sarzo would be a disaster.

Still, he had to do something to seize the moment because he knew, even in a mind that it would slip from his grasp. He knew what he had to do, but he first took a detour to the tiny window where he could leer at Sarzo for a moment. He spit into the window, going nowhere near him but knowing the message would be sent anyway.

He then walked in a pseudo goosestep to the building where he called a joint session of Parliament. He had armed guards with AK-47s ringing the back of the hall to keep the joint session a captive audience. When he was satisfied that everyone was present, he sauntered up to the microphone.

"As the new leader of Sarzonia, I am making my first major decision. I am sending you all home for good. I hereby disband Parliament and the Supreme Judicial Court. I am in charge here and that's that."

Senator Alex Loonie (Cons.-Wicomico) stood up defiantly.

"You have no such authority Terry," he said. The guards let out a near-silent gasp. "The acting President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia is Nicole Lewis. I do not recognize any 'authority' you say you have."

Wilson raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. One of the guardsmen, a well-trained marksman who served in the invasion of Socialist_Cockroaches, fired a shot that killed Loonie.

"Anyone else want to try me," Wilson asked. "Now get out."

Doing the best they could not to run frantically, the legislators filed out of the building.

Meanwhile, the supervisor returned from his restroom break. Seeing that Wilson had left, he took out a cell phone and slid it under the door with a note. He then banged on the door gruffly, saying "come get your mail you fucking asshole."

Sarzo stood up and walked slowly to the door. He saw the cell phone with the note, picked it up and opened the note.

"Be careful with this phone," the note read. "If Wilson sees you with it, I'm a dead man. This has a direct connection with Lt. Colonel James Vincent of the 2nd Royal Police Urban Combat Commando Brigade from Hamptonshire."

Hamptonshire, Sarzo muttered. Shaking his head with a scowl, he read on.

"Use this phone to establish your position in their GPS tracking devices. It will give the brigade some kind of solid links to get you out of there. From there, you can contact SVP Lewis in Daurmont. She's running things from Isselmere."

Sarzo grimaced because he felt a smile would be inappropriate and he knew Wilson would come by any second. He took off his suit coat despite the 58 degree temperature in the room and despite the fact he only had a thin dress shirt on under the suit jacket to protect his torso. The chill of the cold air nipped at his arms and he shivered, but he wasn't about to let his one sniff of contact with the outside world get smashed in front of him along with his hopes of freedom. He folded his arms as he heard footsteps approach.

"Colonel Vincent," a lieutenant said with an obvious quiver in his voice, "we've received notification. Sarzo should have the cell phone within the hour, if not already."

Without looking at the young lieutenant Vincent dismissed him with a slight wave of his hand. The Lieutenant Colonel slowly walked over to the Ambassador.

"So, sir" Vincent said in a harsh voice, "do I have permission to act as I see fit."

"Lieutenant Colonel, you can do anything short of killing innocents."

"Don't worry Ambassador. They'll be chasing ghosts and biting their own tails as we bring Sarzo to safety."

Vincent promptly left the bunker and made his way to the Security Office to plan the rescue mission.

Sarzo sat on the stool that served as the only place besides a rough bed that served as a place he could go for any kind of refuge while he heard the footsteps approach his cell.

"Comfy in there," Wilson said with a sneer. "Parliament has gone home. It's just me now," he added with a maniacal laugh. Sarzo looked sullen as Wilson chortled. When he heard the laugh subside as footsteps start to drown it out and he heard a door slam, he knew he was clear. He heard a lock on an outside door and he heard more footsteps.

"Mr. President," came the whisper from the supervisor. "I've locked the door so Wilson's not coming. Use the cell phone to call the Royal Guard. The GPS positioner will give them the details of your position. You don't have much time. My shift ends in 10 minutes. Hurry!"

Sarzo wanted to ask him why he was taking this interest, but before the words formed in his mouth, the guard answered for him.

"There was a plot by one of the secret service leaders who was conspiring with the Restore Sarzonia Task Force to get you captured. Once you and the rest of the government were out of the way, they planned to take over and make some drastic changes to the country."

"How do I know you're not part of this plot," Sarzo asked, his suspicions now raised.

"I fired the guard who was a member of the RSTF," he said. "My partner and I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for what you did. That's why I wanted to find someone who could counter the RSTF and help get you back in office. You don't have much time. Call them! Now!"

Sarzo flipped open the cell phone and called.

"This is Mike," he said in a hushed tone. "I'm at the J. Edgar Hoover Prison on 23rd and Truxtun Blvd. It's three blocks south of the John Paul Stevens Building."

Sarzo waited for the response, then he put in the wireless microphone that would allow him to talk to the Royal Guard without the phone being visible. He walked over to his bed and got in, hiding himself under the covers to protect him from the cold and to mask his true intent.

The scene had calmed from yesterday's frightening events. The Prime Minister was now sitting with the Senior Deputy Prime Minister and Agustinate of Defence in his sparkling-clean office. No trace of the former Lomas was to be found in that office, the PMG and Ambulanza had done a damn fine job.

"Okay, we're going to wait for Acting President Lewis' word," PM Ell declared.

"Of course, sir," said Agustinate of Defence Eleftherios Venizelos. "You asked me to set up contact with the Sarzonian Secret Service and that has been accomplished. They tell me President Sarzo was located just a few minutes ago."

"Really?" the PM inquired, his expression brightening. "Where?"

"They told me he contacted them by phone. It appeared he was using a cell phone to call them. Nobody at the S3 knows how he got it; he most likely would have been searched upon getting to where he was."

"And where was he?" asked SDPM Karagounis.

"He was at the J. Edgar Hoover Prison in Woodstock," Venizelos replied.

"Materne di Dio!" the PM gasped. "Are you sure? Who is going to rescue him?"

"A partition of the Royal Police from Hamptonshire is going to get him out," replied Karagounis.

"Okay, that's perfect," replied the PM. "Let's hope Acting President Lewis accepts our help for post-rescue work."

"Right, sir," the two replied.

"You may go," the PM said. After they left, he turned his chair and looked out over the sweeping, oddly foggy, Rio Timiocato. Today was going to be either a long day or a good day -- or both.

"Mr. President a team of Royal Commandos are on their way to rescue you. We do need information- how many rebels are located around your position?" the voice on the phone said.

The voice paused, "Please stay on the line as long as possible, Mr. President. We will inform you of our progress."

---------------------------

Lt. Colonel Vincent assembled his team over a map of Woodstock. He layed out the plan of attack. "Six of us will go get the President.

Spinoza, Marcos- You are Edison Team. You're going to cut power to the other side of town around Grey House. After you've cut power, stir up a little trouble.

Williams, Sanders- You are Patton Team. Head to Parliament Hall, there are bound to be quite a few rebels there. Once you arrive, set up the Frequency Jammer, lay some explosives. Once their radios have be neutralized, detonate our 'packages'. Then just make as much noise as you can.

The rest of us, Retrevial Team, will proceed via sewers to the J. Edgar Hoover Prison on 23rd and Truxtun Blvd. Before we head in, we're going to position explosives, should our operation turn hot we're going in and out in full Blaze. We'll incapacitate any guards we run across. Once we secure Sarzo, we set the explosive charges in his former cell. As soon as we have him in the sewers with us, I'll blow the charges.

Questions?"

Sergeant Bittle, part of Vincent's Retrevial Team, asked "Colonel, what are we going to do with Sarzo once we get him?"

"We will bring him back to the Embassy. The Ambassador has already secured a means of escape from the Capital."


[OOC: All I need is RPing from each of the three targeted locations.]

The small Atlas transport, snorting faintly, dashed at 900 feet over the lavish forests, hugging the contours of the steep hills. Covered in RAM coatings, the pilot prayed the Sarzonians wouldn't pick him up on their screens before he would've delivered his cargo. After all, EVERYONE would be after them, as the Powers-That-Be had decided the special forces would conduct their operation anyway, regardless of their support having been waved off by Ms Lewis herself, for "Sarzonia's own good". Therefore, the wide logistics arm that would've been brought along had been detached and has stayed at Sharif AFB. That meant the Delta Force operatives had to operate on MREs, capable of doing so for a sustained period of hardly 3 days. Their extraction would also be a problem; the only solution they had, after rescuing Sarzo and taking Wilson along in a bodybag, was to request a temporary asylum at an allied embassy and then be lifted off by a small gyroplane from there, but that plan was still at the drawing boards. It all depended on how the Sarzonian authorities would react on the unwanted assistance.

The cargo hold was now relatively empty, having just 32 Delta Force operatives occupying the weblike nets at the sides. Strapped in the light version of the VEPR S2 Battle Armor System, the men prepared themselves mentally for the low altitude jump they were about to make. Most of them coudn't keep their hands of their jump harnas and just kept checking everything over and over. Other seemed focused on their RSR-51XA Assault Rifle, attaching a "death dot" infrared aiming light and clicking a 12 gauge shotgun underneath the pair of muzzles of the rifle, making it capable of firing three different calibres, 5.56mm and 12 gauge for CQB, 7.62 for field work.

A mere three hundred miles to the south, just outside Sarzonian territorial airspace, five RC-135V "Rivet Joint" signal intelligence platforms monitored the electronic noise, produced by rebel communication links over Woodstock, picking up some security-affiliated chatter. The trained crews analysed the data and pinpointed the rough loaction of both Sarzo and Wilson, J. Edgar Hoover Prison.The coordinates were quickly transferred to the "Atlas" over a simple data modem. Now it was up to its pilot to infiltrate Woodstock and drop off 32 D-boys in the enemy's own backyard, a densely populated urban area. He sighed, they were lucky to have steerable parachutes.

About 3:30 in the morning as the graveyard shift was well underway, Lavita Moore was nearly asleep. Her job as a supervisor at the Central Woodstock Power Station usually gave her a shift of 1-10 p.m. so she could get her kids up and off to school. The good thing about it was that she could see the kids go to school but the bad thing was that she wasn't there for dinner, except on weekends. She took on this extra shift because she and her husband were behind on the rent and she needed the overtime.

Nothing goes on at this shift, she thought. Maybe I can catch up on my sleep. All of a sudden, that thought went out the window as the klaxon sounded.

"Intruder alert!" She sprung out of her seat and scanned the security cameras to look for the intruders. She grabbed her walkie talkie.

"Security teams to Section C on the double!" She looked to find her gun and then all of a sudden, the lights went out. The emergency power generator turned on a faint set of lights so that she wasn't totally blinded, but her cameras weren't set on the same emergency system. It took them a full minute and a half before cameras finally turned back on. By the time she got her bearings, her walkie talkie beeped.

"Moore."

"They got away. Sectors 2 and 3 are without power. Including the Gray House."

I ain't getting paid near enough for this jont, she thought.

---------

Lt. Clem Barker was enjoying his post. He was fresh out of the academy and he was assigned to guard Parliament Hall while Wilson was on his way to the small presidential cabin in Saugerties. Wilson wanted to go in and destroy most of Sarzo's records, not remembering that Sarzo scrubbed them when he returned after the Gray House was rebuilt. Most of what was left was instructions for the cleaning staff. It didn't matter to Wilson anyway because he had plans to use that as his hideaway.

Barker noticed a shadowy figure about 100 yards from his position and raised his gun. When the figure appeared in full view, he lowered it, almost embarrassed. It was an elderly lady who was going into the community center for Bingo night. Just then, he heard more commotion behind him. He whirled around and just then, his radio, which had constant updates from his bosses about orders and plans, shorted out. He started walking briskly toward the commotion when he heard an explosion followed by another.

"Omega team, this is Alpha team. Come in!" No avail. Barker angrily slammed his walkie talkie to the ground.

---------

Lisa Bonham wasn't sure why she was being stuck with this shift. Almost nothing happened at the Hoov, as she and the rest of her fellow guards called the J. Edgar Hoover prison. With the crime rate in Sarzonia among the lowest in the region, she was beginning to feel like a Maytag repairman in the old television commercials. She sent her resume out to other jobs to find something, anything with a little more action.

At least it's an easy paycheck, she thought. Suddenly, movements in the nearby bushes snapped her out of her reverie. She grabbed for her gun and stood at attention. And waited.

What a time for a drill now, she thought. Suddenly, she realized it was no drill. The Retrieval Team had struck. Before she could signal for backup, she was ambushed by two Hamptonian guards who were part of the team to distract the guards. She fought valiantly against the two larger men, but while she tussled with them, the rest of the team was able to break in. With the power outage affecting the security cameras, it slowed down a search party.

Sarzo shivered under the covers. The minimal heat in his room was powered by electricity, so the power outage dropped the temperature even lower than the 58 degrees it was before the power went out. When the supervisor saw the power outage, he turned on a flashlight.

The four "River Joint" signal intelligence platforms quickly noticed the power breakdown in Woodstock and joyfully concluded there was a wide gap in the Sarzonian air defense grid as three major groundbased radars had been shut down. However, they had to be fast. Auxiliary power units just had to be plugged into those stations to return power.


Inside that Atlas, Sergeant Major Garcia, 44, a decorated veteran of the Italia campaign, sniffed some of the breeze roaring past him in the jump door. 900 feet below, a small soccer field formed an excellent DZ for the 32 troops, and he picked it out immediately, recognizing it out of thousands from the mission briefing.

"Sound off for equipment check,"

He yelled.

The chalks quickly completed their checks and a firm "All okay" resonated in the plane's interior, the men waddling a bit closer.

"Stand by,"

Garcia now watched the small green light over the jump door flash on.

"Go!"

Colonel Yussuf was the first out of the door, quickly followed by all remaining 31, including jumpmaster Garcia. Theit chutes all inflated succesfully and using their steering lines, the operatives all slowly descended towards the small soccer field, shrouded in darkness.

Lewis nervously monitored the secret frequencies that detailed the rescue attempt for Sarzo. She knew that once he was no longer in Wilson's clutches that Phase 2 of the plan would go into effect. She had Pacitalia's SAFD at her command along with a growing legion of forces that were loyal to Sarzo.

She knew that for Wilson, getting the loyalty of the Sarzonian military would be nigh on impossible. When he was Vice President for Defense, people followed him because they had to. They followed Sarzo because they wanted to. He knew it, everyone knew it. Even the "loyalists" of Wilson's were there because of deluded promises.

She pulled out her cell phone and set the frequency to a secure channel and called the SAFD's commander.

"When I get word that Sarzo's in the Hamptonian embassy, begin Phase 2, which will be to bring Wilson to justice."

"Acknowledged."

Lewis closed the flip phone and went to the radio console. She sat down as the Isselmerian attendant set the frequency for a nationwide address.

"My fellow Sarzonians, I come to you today to ask for your patience. It will be a long and difficult road toward the rightful restoration of the government you elected into office to its position in Woodstock. We are coordinating with several of our allies to ensure that transition is as quick and as bloodless as it can be.

"I also ask that you ignore the pronouncements of that ruffian Wilson, who unlawfully seized power. He is no more your leader than Barney the dinosaur. He has no more right to sit in the Gray House than Britney Spears. The only person who rightfully is your leader is Mike Sarzo, and we will do everything in our power to make sure that happens."

A soft cushion of grass rapidly rushed up to Colonel Yussuf and he braced for impact, bending his body so that the force of the blow would be spread over his entire body. First however, he released his rucksack, which slumped onto the ground. Now he hit the ground himself with a subdued thump. He quickly clicked the release snaps loose and unpacked his RSR-51XA from the weapon casing before sprinting towards the rally point.

There, all operatives had gathered, prone behind the dressing rooms of the soccer field.

"Everyone okay?"

Colonel Yussuf whispered, now onto his knees, overlooking the field which was covered with grey parachute canopies.

"Mohammed sprained his ankle, Sir,"

"Damn it. Garcia, watch him and give him a hand if it gets worse. Now, boys, we're damn lucky the power went out, let's use it to our advantage. Hoover Prison is half a mile north. We take the alley network behind 23rd, over the parking lot. Nice and easy, just as we planned. Now move it,"

[OOC: I'm going to make the post about the actual rescue of Sarzo later today. I've got some special things I want to do ;)]

[OOC: Hamptonshire and Al-Sabir, if you want any assistance from my Marines, or to jam transmissions from orbit with broadcasts from the Acting President, I'd be glad to help.

Sarzonia, I was thinking of RPing a UKIN agent approaching the PIW's managing director to organise a work slow-down. Any loss of trade would of course be paid for by the UKIN government (and I've had a frightening economy for a while, so that would be easy for me :) ). Sort of an alternative to an actual blockade until the fleets arrive (which should be any RL day but I'll wait until Hamptonshire and Al-Sabir do their RPing of saving Sarzo first).]

Statement from the Ministry for Foreign Affairs and International Development

All Sarzonian assets in the UKIN have been placed under the administration of Acting President Nicole Lewis until the restoration of President Sarzo to his rightful office.

Sir George Fredericks, KL, MP, CS, PC
Minister for Foreign Affairs and International Development

Sarzonia, I was thinking of RPing a UKIN agent approaching the PIW's managing director to organise a work slow-down. Any loss of trade would of course be paid for by the UKIN government (and I've had a frightening economy for a while, so that would be easy for me :) ). Sort of an alternative to an actual blockade until the fleets arrive (which should be any RL day but I'll wait until Hamptonshire and Al-Sabir do their RPing of saving Sarzo first).]

[OOC: I like the idea. Go ahead and run with it. :)]

The six Commandos silently made their way through the sewers of Woodstock. The sights and smells would make most people sick, but these men and women were trained in such environments. The modern sewer system was one of the most efficient methods to travel through large cities. The four miles from the Embassy Compound to the Prison was hardly anything to the Commandos.

As they reached the manhole in front of the Prison building, Lt. Colonel Vincent stopped the group. Using a small fiber optic camera pushed up through a hole in the manhole, he scanned the surroundings.

"It looks like the other teams did their job. I only spot four unfriendlies." he whispered.

With a motion of his hand the six Commandos prepared themselves for the dash into the prison. Three carried multi-round tranquilizer guns. A single shot would knock out the average person for at least an hour. The other Commandos carried more lethal weaponry.

Silently, Colonel Vincent pushed back the manhole cover. Taking careful aim he shot the nearest sentry. The six Commandos sprinted from the sewer toward the rear entrance of the prison (less than 40 feet away). As they came across rebels, they were promptly neutralized and dragged to less conspicious positions.

"Mitchels, open the door." Vincent said to his technical specialist, Captain Kenith Mitchels.

With a few pulls of a wire here and a couple puched keys there, the team entered the Prison. Using their GPS locators and a map of the Prison provided by the Intelligence Ministry, the Commandos silently made their way through the depths of the prison. They moved from shadow to shadow, disabling any surveillience equipment they found along the way.

"It's around the corner." Vincent said while looking at his locator display. Slowly he peaked his head around the corner of the dark corridor. He could see three heavily armed rebels. It wouldn't be possible to take them all out with the camera spotting some of the activity. He could either take out the camera, which would alert security that something was wrong, or kill the rebels in front of the camera. Pausing for a second to think, he motioned to his team to ready their weapons. Their handguns and rifles.

Vincent and and the others quietly placed silencers on their weapons and prepared for the lightening paced action that was to come.

"Alright. On the count of three." Vincent motioned. First one finger went up, then two...finally three. The team burst into action. With lightening speed and accuracy that can only come from muscle memory, Colonel Vincent shot and destroyed the security camera. Before the guards could even react the other Royal Police Officers killed them. As Vincent and two Commandos ran to the cell containing the President, the three other Commandos covered the hall.

"Mr. President, please stand back from the door and prepare to follow us."

Placing a small explosive charge on the cell door, Colonel Vincent stood back and denotated the charge. He ran in and grabbed President Sarzo, ripping off his own bullet proof vest to place on the Sarzonian leader.

"We have the package. Move out!"

The Commandos were no longer concerned with stealth, they ran out with their new protectee with guns at the hip. Half way to the exit, the Prison alarm went off. Rebels began to run around to try to find the source of the security breach. Those unlucky enough to run into the Commandos were promptly shot.

As the group exited the Prison they came under ever increasing fire. While the distruptions in the other parts of the city took most of the rebel's attention, enough of them remained at the Prison to present a challenge.

Keeping Sarzo in the safety of a corner protected by two Commandos, the rest of the team engaged in fire fights with the rebels. Although lightly armed, the superior training of the Officers allowed them to clear a relatively safe path back to the sewer. As the group prepared to make their final dash to safety, Captain Mitchels placed a twenty pound charge of plastic explosive at the back entrace of the Prison and armed it.

Under cover of smoke and flash bang grenades, the six Commandos and President Sarzo ran to the sewer. Bullets whizzed by striking one Commando in the arm and hitting Colonel Vincent in the left shoulder now unprotected by body armor. As Sarzo was pushed into the sewer, Vincent's men dragged him into the sewer. Their leader was dying.

In all the commotion and confusion of the firefight and smoke grenades, Captain Mitchels pulled out the remoted trigger and pushed the red button. As the ten second countdown started, he shut the manhole cover.

The rebels were still firing into the smoke, hoping that they were hitting something.


[OOC: I'm at work right now. I apologize, Sarzo, if I overstepped the bounds of 'proper' RPing. You can RP Sarzo being escorted three miles under the sewers. The last mile of the trip will be "special" :)]

"When I get word that Sarzo's in the Hamptonian embassy, begin Phase 2, which will be to bring Wilson to justice," said the electronically-converted voice tones of Sarzonia's Acting President Nicole Lewis.

"Acknowledged," replied the SAFD commander that was, excluding President Lewis, in charge of the 7,255 men on the first wave of the mission. His name was Giacomo Olivetti, and had been in the SAFD for almost 22 years. This was his passion.

"You heard the lady," he continued, now speaking to all the airplanes through a communications box. "We're flying stealth right now, about 100km out of Sarzonian airspace. When she gives the word, the first team will p-chute out of the planes. Two minutes after that, the second team will follow, trailed by the third team and fourth teams with the same time interval. The first three teams all have 2,000 agents. The last team has 1,255."

Olivetti paused for effect.

"Remember your landing tactics. If you land funny, you'll break one or both of your legs, so be careful. Need I remind you you'll be of no use to the SAFD for a couple of weeks, let alone this mission should you fail to remember your techniques. The landing will probably the hardest part of the mission, but don't get too confident yet."

He paused again, and moved over to the sink, filling a glass with water. He drank a few gulps then continued.

"And remember that the people of Sarzonia are counting on us. We are their friends, we are there to help them. They deserve good leadership and they're not getting it right now from Wilson. President Lewis is doing a heck of a job in this matter, so respect her decisions and act as though you are HER forces, because tonight, in essence you are. Should we fail, it will be less of an embarrassment and more of a let-down. We are the best in the world. We must live up to that. Right, get into position. We're 80km out and waiting."

He flipped the mike off and turned away, but remembered something else.

"One more thing. We need not worry about anti-aircraft fire from the Sarzonian military. They're under Signora Lewis' control now."

He flipped off the mike switch for the second time and sat down at his seat, working more on his paperwork. In his section of the plane sat an overflow of 20 agents, the other 300 or so were in the mid and back sections of the huge transport plane.

They all sat and waited. Despite their training and their confidence, they knew instinct and passion for democracy would overrule anything they'd ever learned in the agency. Not that it was going to harm the mission. The one rule in the SAFD was "never be prepared because the enemy is always changing their strategies". The suited-up agents felt... oddly omniscient and extremely determined. They knew it would be a successful mission, just in a different way. And many of them, who had friends in Sarzonia, wanted the head of Terrence Wilson on a platter.

Commander Olivetti picked up his cell phone and pressed Speed Dial 4, waiting for the military phone service to connect him to Acting President Lewis' phone. He sensed what his men wanted - Terrence Wilson dead. But he knew that Wilson deserved trial, torture and then, maybe Thanatos.

[OOC: I was just wondering- How do you all know about the Hamptonian plan to rescue Sarzo? The conversations between the Ambassador and the Sarzonian Government-in-Exile were conducted using encoded diplomatic channels.

It isn't a secret operation is everyone is talking about it.]

OOC: I only "know" because "Commander Olivetti" of the SAFD received word from Acting President Lewis about what you were going to do to rescue Sarzo. That's what Mike and I had planned on Yahoo! Messenger.

[OOC: I was just wondering- How do you all know about the Hamptonian plan to rescue Sarzo? The conversations between the Ambassador and the Sarzonian Government-in-Exile were conducted using encoded diplomatic channels.

It isn't a secret operation is everyone is talking about it.]

[OOC: Just making it official, IC I'm entirely ignorant of what Hamptonshire is doing, but if I receive word you require assistance, I'll lend whatever I currently have available (a small detachment of Royal Marines at my embassy and satellites that were launched earlier to establish Radio Free Sarzonia. Though I certainly understand where you're coming from...]

[OOC: Don't worry about it Hamptonshire... I almost RP'd your rescue but I edited it out.]

Sarzo was running nervously through the sewers of Woodstock with the convoy of commandoes. He made a mental note to discuss the state of the sewage system with new Woodstock Mayor Chip Moose, but he was focused on keeping pace with the commandoes on the way to the Hamptonian embassy.

I've got to contact Nicole, Sarzo thought as the team scrambled through the drainage system. The events of the capture and later rescue were running through his head at warp speed, but he knew he had to push them out of his mind so he could concentrate on the task at hand: Regaining what was unlawfully stripped from him.

While the rescue was going on, Lewis was pacing, waiting for the report of Sarzo's rescue. She wanted to have Sarzo make Isselmere's embassy his command headquarters for Sarzo to broadcast his message on Radio Free Sarzonia. But before he could do that, he knew he had to apprehend Wilson and bring him to justice.

There was no way to know that several Isselmere-Nieland fleets were on their way to blockade Sarzonia. He didn't have any idea how much of the military was going to support him or Wilson, but he was going to have to figure out how to regain what was rightfully his. All those thoughts passed through his mind as the human convoy made its way through the darkness toward the embassy.

Sarzo had no idea that Pacitalia had sent 200,000 of its forces to Sarzonia or that Al Sabir was prepping a special ops invasion despite Lewis's refusal to allow it. He just knew he had to get to safety and get back to the Gray House somehow.

Wilson's cell phone beeped. He saw the text message flash across the LCD display and screamed. "PRISON BREACH... SARZO GONE."

"Fuck," Wilson yelled. He turned his car around and zoomed toward Parliament Hall. His speech was running through his head. He knew that Isselmere-Nieland's fleet was on its way. He knew that Sarzo had escaped from prison, but he didn't know everything. He just knew he was going to have to put the clamps on things or it was going to get away from his control. He finally got to Parliament Hall and ran to his command center. There, he picked up the device and spoke.

"Attention, as of right now, I'm declaring a state of emergency. Sarzo has broken out of prison. There is a $10 million reward for his head. I am also mobilizing the First Fleet and the Seventh Fleet to attack a blockade of Isselmerian-Nielander ships that is out to strangle and end your way of life."

Little did Wilson know, the First Fleet had no intention of following orders.

"This is Admiral Marcus Patinkin," the reassured words from the ISS Praetonia began. "We do not consider you in any way to be the legitimate commander in chief of Sarzonian forces. We will obey no orders from you."

Wilson flew off into a rage. "Fuck you, Patinkin I'll have your ass stripped of your rank!"

"I doubt it," Patinkin said. "You are losing control Terry. Admit it. And when you lose control, you will lose everything. Mark my words."

As the corner of Bryson St. and Cundiff Court approached, Sarzo knew that the convoy was one mile from the Hamptonian embassy.

[OOC: Here's your chance to make that mile special. :)]

[OOC: Please tell me whether I'm overstepping any bounds here and I'll make the appropriate changes...]

Commodore Barbara Tucker returned from lunch sated and surprised. A familiar but non-descript man was sitting in her office drinking coffee, a leather satchel resting beside the chair. She was about to call security when he rose and introduced himself.

"Commodore Tucker, I am Keith Monteague. You may remember me from the joint design team for the Sea-class." A raised eyebrow told him her memory certainly wasn't flawed. "Would you please close the door?"

Once the door had shut, Monteague enlightened Cmdre Tucker about the reason for his visit. As a representative for the UKIN government, he was asking her to implement a slow down on production. Any financial loss incurred by this work action would be compensated by the UKIN, showing her a hand-written letter from the Prime Minister to that effect before destroying it. "Acting President Lewis has another copy of this letter, as does Senior Vice President Lorber," he added. "We ask you to enact this policy as soon as possible."

[OOC: I'm at work right now, so I'll post the last mile in a few hours. Sarzonia, have you forgotten (or are you ICly leaving out) the 3 Royal Army Airborne Division (45,000 soldiers) that I've made available?

I also have the 2nd Expeditionary Fleet (125 warships; 10,000 Royal Marines) en route to Sarzonia about 3 days hard sail from your territorial waters...but I get ahead of myself. That information is going to have its own little post.]

At Gilhaven House on the outskirts of Daurmont, an encrypted transmission was received from Sarzonia. The Department of Information Services officer watching signal intercepts immediately contacted his supervisor, Col. R.

"Sir, a transmission was just relayed from Wilson's command post to the First and Seventh Sarzonian fleets," the officer announced.

"Any idea of its contents?"

"No, sir," the officer stated. "The computers are working on it, but..."

"Right."

Col. R grabbed the nearby secure telephone and rang the Admiralty. "Admiral, we've received a transmission from Nero to Neptunes Alpha and Golf. As yet, we've no idea what the content might be. I suggest we begin transmitting the Marianne signal on RFS."

----

From Radio Free Sarzonia

Men and women of the Sarzonian armed forces!

The rightful government of Sarzonia seeks your assistance in its hour of need to combat the usurper who has so vilely wrested control of your valiant nation.

The time has come to liberate your nation of the sordid "Restore Sarzonia Task Force." Brothers and sisters, join together to expel this threat to your liberties and your well-being, and let the true Renaissance of Sarzonia begin under its legitimate government!

"Stay calm Lance Corporal. Vincent will show up any moment." the Ambassador to his nervous driver.

While the sewer system provided a safe and relatively direct way to get from the Embassy Compound to the rest of Woodstock, once the sewer system reached near the Embassies, the pipes narrowed down to a diameter too small for even a dog let alone a human. It was fairly easy for the six Commandos to sneak from the Hamptonian Embassy into the sewer system. It would be damn near impossible for them to leave the sewer system, with President Sarzo, and walk more than a mile to the Embassy without alerting someone.

Ambassador McCarthy came up with the solution. He and three Royal Marines would take one of the Embassy's armed black SUVs, drive to the meeting location, pick up the retrival team and President, and then drive like hell back to the Compound. McCarthy knew that the sight of Hamptonian Flags and the Crest of the Grand Duke on the vehicle could give him some leverage against the random roaming rebel. If it was anything more than that, though, it would be a tough situation. Between the three Royal Marines were only one SABR assault rifle, three HSM submachine guns, and six 7.62 mm pistols. Unlike the Royal Police Commandos, the Royal Marine Embassy Guards complied to with the restrictions placed on Embassorial security.


"Hold up." Captain Mitchels ordered the group, "I have to check with our extraction source."

He pulled a velco strip off a computer display strapped to his arm. The others took the time to catch their breaths. Lt. Colonel Vincent was unconscious and slung over the back of Staff Sergeant-Major Harden. Sergeant Kellar quietly placed a bandage over his wounded right arm, it was just a glancing wound.


The display panel on the SUV's center console began to beep. "There you go Corporal. Now I'll send the..." he stopped when he noticed two pairs of bright lights in the rear view mirror. They got closer and closer with alarming speed. One of the other Royal Marines, the one armed with the SABR, readied his weapon in an almost instinctual action.

"Put that weapon down. Let's not give them any reason to stay."

The two vehicles pulled up about forty feet behind the SUV in the middle of the deserted intersection. The Marine put on a pair of IR goggles and examined the two vehicles. "Two Humvee-type vehicles, looks like five people per car. They're either armed with carbines or light assault rifles."

"Holy crap on a stick!" the Ambassador angrily said as he hit the "Hold Fast" button on the console.

The meeting point was the sewer manhole cover in the middle of the street, twenty feet behind the SUV. The two rebel Humvees on the scene would have a perfect postion to mow down anyone who came out of the sewer. The Ambassador quickly began to think of a new plan.


"The Ambassador sent the 'Fold Hast' order. There must be something wrong topside. We are gonna have to sit tight." Mitchels said to the group. He noticed that Sarzo was not having the easiest time breathing in the sewer, the smell down there could choke a horse. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a small breathing appartatus.

"Put this on Mr. President. I don't know how long we're going to have to stay down here and I don't want you passing out on me."


The three Royal Marines were preparing their weapons for action. They were outnumbered more than three to one, but with the element of surprise and a bit of luck they might be able to carry the day. As Ambassador McCarthy was about to go through his plan, one of the Humvees quickly sped off in the opposite direction.

It was the openning they needed. While he would have liked to see if the other vehicle would leave, too much time had already been wasted. He formulated a "Plan B."

"Alright, this is how it is going to happen. I'll leave the SUV, walk toward the rebels, and ask them for assistance. While this distracts them, the three of you exit through the doors on the other side of the car. Once I fire my gun, you three open up on them. We have to take them out before they can radio for assistance."

With nods of agreement, the Ambassador was given a handgun. He slipped it into his suit pocket. He took in a few deep breaths and said a silent prayer to God. Before he left the car he turned to the Lance Corporal and said "You have to push the 'All Clear' button. We're going to be operating on borrowed time."

McCarthy straightened his tie and openned the passanger door. He casually walked toward the five rebels in the Humvee. God I hope the HDC makes a better bulletproof vest than they make a coffee maker he said to himself while waving at the rebels.

"Could you help me out please? I'm Ambassador McCarthy of Hamptonshire." he yelled out "My car seems to have a bit of mechanical trouble."

Four of the rebels left their vehicle and cautiously began to walk toward the Ambassador. He stopped and waited for them to get closer. "If you could just help me out, I'd be in your debt."

Once the lead rebel came within twenty feet of the Ambassador he quickly pulled out the pistol and fired off two shots at the rebel soldier. Before the rebel hit the ground, the three Royal Marines bursted out from behind the SUV and openned fire on the rebels and the Humvee. In the insuing melee Ambassador McCarthy stood his ground and continued to fire at the rebels, his actions were reminiscent of the action that got he award the Medal of Valor twenty years ago, Hamptonshire's highest Military award.

The SABR-armed Royal Marine fired three 20mm grenade rounds at the Humvee. Suprise combined with overwhelming firepower won the day for the Hamptonians. Ambassador McCarthy turned to order the Lance Corporal to hit the button when the rebel the Ambassador had shot rose his gun and fired at him. McCarthy hit the ground hard, hitting his right elbow on the pavement. A Marine ran up to the shot Ambassador stopping to first unload a half dozen 9mm bullets into the rebel.

"Sir?"

"Goddamn bulletproof vest. I've broken a damn rib and my arm. These things should come with airbags." he said while rolling over on his back. The Marine quickly picked up the Ambassador and rushed him to the backseat of the SUV.

The Lance Corporal hit the "All Clear" button, seconds later the six Commandos and President Sarzo came up from the sewer. Without saying a word everyone loaded up into the car. The Commandos piled up in the cargo area while Sarzo joined McCarthy on the backseat. As soon as the final door closed, the car sped off at top speed to the Hamptonian Embassy.

"President Sarzo," McCarthy extended his left hand out for a handshake, "I'm glad we could be of assistance. Once we get back to the Embassy our medical staff will look you over and you can shower and change. I may have been shot, but by God you smell like Hell."

The SUV swerved through the lanes of the street leading to the Embassy Compound. In less than a minute, the car was inside the thick armored gates of the Hamptonian Embassy. Lt. Colonel Vincent and the other Commandos were taken to the medical station inside the Guard Barracks. Ambassador McCarthy and President Sarzo were rushed inside the main building and taken to the 5000 sq.foot Command Bunker fifty feet below the Embassy grounds.


[OOC: Sarzo, you can RP the medical exam and the other stuff. Just don't leave the Embassy without some more RPing action...please.]

"My God, Mr. President you stink," the nurse exclaimed when she came within three feet of Sarzo.

"And good morning to you, too," Sarzo said in a strange tone of voice that mixed bemusement with annoyance. "Where's the showers? I haven't had one in three days and if I have to smell this sewer on me another 10 minutes, I'm going to faint."

"Down the hall, third door to your right. There's a towel and some toiletries for you. We couldn't get you the good stuff, so you'll have to manage with CVS brand stuff."

"Believe me, that's the last thing on my mind right now," Sarzo said. He walked briskly down the hall and turned into the shower room. After an exceptionally long shower, Sarzo finally emerged and put on a set of clothes that was left for him.

As Sarzo emerged from the bathroom, he saw a welcome face: Tyler's. The two men embraced as the emotions of the imprisonment and the rescue started bubbling to the surface in the form of tears that stained Tyler's shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're back," Tyler whispered.

"I'm glad to be back. And I'm glad to see you again my love," Sarzo sniffed through his sobs. After five minutes of composing himself and talking about everything that was going on, Sarzo finally went back to the medical examiner's room.

"Much better," the nurse said with a smile that showed a surprising warmth. She took some initial measurements and wrote down some information on a piece of paper that she carried in a folder. She took the folder to the doctor who then began the examination.

"You had quite an adventure, didn't you," the doctor said in an effort to lighten Sarzo's mood."

"That may be the biggest understatement in my nation's history," Sarzo joked. He knew the joke would go flat, but he figured the joke would at least signal that his psyche wasn't completely destroyed. After about an hour, the doctor pronounced Sarzo with a clean bill of health.

"How is Ambassador McCarthy? And what about Colonel Vincent?"

[OOC: I'll let you take the rest of the conversation from here.]

Ambassador McCarthy walked into the Examination Room. He was sporting a sling for his right arm and a tightly wound cast over his chest. He had heard Sarzo in the hallway. "I'm fine. I've had worse golf accidents." He tried to soften President Sarzo up for the bad news. "Lieutenant Colonel Vincent died. The bullet pierced his heart and left lung. There wasn't anything the medical staff could do."

The Ambassador continued, "Mr. President, the bullet was armor piercing. It would not have made a difference if he had his vest on or not." McCarthy's eyes were locked on the vest Sarzo took off. Colonel Vincent put it on him when they escaped the prison. The bullet that killed the Colonel wasn't armor piercing, the vest would have saved his life but telling Sarzo that wouldn't do any good. Lieutenant Colonel Vincent was dead and Sarzo needed to restore himself to power, that was enough to have on one's mind.

"If you'll come with me Mr. President, I'll take you to the Communications Room. You can link up to our SatCom network. We can establish communications with whoever you need to contact." McCarthy lead Sarzo and Tyler through the halls into the Comm Room.

"Before you contact your subordinates, my staff has managed to compile a rough list of foreign assets available for your use as well as the locations of your Senior Vice Presidents.

Our 2nd Expeditionary Fleet is 850 nautical miles from Sarzonia territorial waters and is in a position to join up with several Isselmere-Nieland fleets. Three Airborne Divisons of the Royal Army are also ready to deploy on your orders. Once you give the order they'll be 'visiting' Sarzonia in less than 10 hours."

The Embassy's Communications Officer polietly interrupted the two men, "President Sarzo, we've established a connection with the SatCom network. We are ready to establish communication channels."

Sarzo grimaced. That loss was not what he wanted to hear.

"I guess the Medal of Valour for Colonel Vincent will have to be posthumous," Sarzo said. "Once we have this situation resolved, I would like to invite his family and the Grand Duke to a ceremony where we confer that honour upon him. But for right now, let's get this show on the road."

Sarzo sat down at the communications panel and held the microphone.

"Attention Sarzonian embassy in Daurmont, this is Mike."

"Mike! Thank God it's you," Lewis exclaimed. "Yay!"

"Our work's not done yet Nicole," Sarzo said. "Now the fun part begins. We're going to have to capture Terry and bring him to justice."

"We've got forces from Pacitalia and Isselmere among others that are available. All you have to do is give the word and they're deployed."

"We've also got three Royal Army Airborne Divisions of 45,000 men and the Second Expeditionary Fleet from Hamptonshire on their way. You give the order to deploy your forces and I'll order the Hamptonian forces to deploy. This may go down as the biggest manhunt in Sarzonia's history."

"Yeah right," Lewis said in her affirming way with a half laugh.

Lewis turned to her communications device and gave the orders to deploy. Sarzo followed suit. All of a sudden, the game was afoot in more ways than one.

Sarzo contacted the First and Seventh Fleets. Admiral Patinkin responded.

"Mr. President! I'm glad to hear from you!"

"Thanks Admiral. How much can you spare for the manhunt?"

"I can send a small escort with the ISS [i]Retaliation[/b] to join the Isselmerian-Nielander and Hamptonian fleets. Latest intel figures show that only a small fleet of ships is available to Wilson's forces, and there's huge dissention in those ranks. He's risking a mutiny if he engages any friendlies."

"I know, Marcus. But we're going to have to root out these terrorists any way we can. It may take some drastic measures. In fact, I think I'm going to need you to command the force that goes over there."

"I can't leave IDF behind."

"You don't have to. Have Commodore Gregg command the force that stays behind and get your fastest ships on their way to initiate pursuit.

"Understood, sir. But it will still take a week at flanking speed to get there."

"Try to get here as fast as you can. If any of the renegade fleets gets out, you may have to chase them down."

"Understood, Mr. President. Can I just say it's a pleasure to hear your voice again?"

Sarzo allowed himself a faint smile.

"Thank you. But now we need to get to work."

--Fort Alderman, Oltremare Province--

Lieutenant General Issac Astor stood on the review platform as forty-five thousand of Hamptonshire's best and brightest rushed aboard their transport planes for the jump into Woodstock. The air armada that would fly to Sarzonia would be the largest ever assembled by Hamptonshire in actual combat. Two hundred and twenty transport planes would be joined by nearly three hundred fighters, four dozen refueling planes, and thirty bombers. The armada would be able to literally blot out the sun. Stealth wasn't the goal of the Airborne operation, intimidation and fear was the goal.

In ten short hours (two hours loading, eight hours flight time) they would be jumping out of their planes ready to end the insurgency in Sarzonia.

As General Astor left the platform, he strapped on his parachute back. He was ready to do his duty.



--2nd Expeditionary Fleet, 825 NM off Sarzonian Coastline--

Vice Admiral Edgar Kelly stood on the bridge of the newly commissioned HNS Thomas Paine, a Patrick Henry Class Heavy Command Dreadnaught. The 2nd Fleet had, in the history of the Royal Navy, always been absent from major action. The 2nd Fleet had a habit of either leaving before hostilities would break out or arriving after the situation had resolved itself. Now the men and women of the fleet's 200 ships could prove themselves in serious action.

"Have we received word yet from Naval Command?" Vice Admiral Kelly asked as he scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars.

Lt. Commander Yarman, Kelly's Chief of Staff, responded; "Not yet Admiral."

"Send another request to Naval Command. This time address it directly to Fleet Admiral Kirkssen. If you don't get a reply in thirty minutes, open up a direct line to our embassy in Woodstock."

"Yes, sir."


--Command Bunker, Hamptonian Embassy, Woodstock--

"Mr. President, we've already contacted the Airborne Divisions. They'll be in the air in 2 hours and over Woodstock in 10 hours' time. I should warn you that they are not traveling light, or alone. The entire air armada accompaning the division will be around six hundred planes strong.

As for the Royal Navy 2nd Fleet, I think it would be best if the order came directly from you." Ambassador McCarthy paused, "In order to ensure that Hamptonian units function according to Sarzonian wishes, the Grand Duke did this..." He handed President Sarzo a file folder. Inside of the folder was the following order:
Royal Order- No. 836-DK
By order of His Royal Highness Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I, President Micheal Sarzo of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia is hereby given the temporary field rank of Field General, Royal Army. President Sarzo shall have command over all Hamptonian military units operating within the ISS, until such a time as Hamptonian Officer of higher rank shall arrive. Orders given by President Sarzo shall be carried out as long as they do not run counter to previous orders or if they would prove contrary to established Hamptonian Military Protocol.

Signed,
Reginald Leopold I, Magnus Dux

When Sarzo finished reading the order, Major Ambor saluted him. "The 2nd Fleet is within sortie range, sir. If you wish they can begin 'buzzing' Woodstock."

OOC: Here’s the total numbers of forces approaching Sarzonia. The numbers within each fleet are listed as follows:
2nd Littoral Defence Fleet / 1st Rapid Reaction Fleet / 2nd Rapid Reaction Fleet / 3rd Rapid Reaction Fleet / Marine Expeditionary Force

1-RRF is in the van, 2- and 3-RRF guard the flanks, MEF is in the centre, and the 2-LDF holds the rear. CAPs and ASW patrols are running constantly, with about 80% availability of aircraft (owing to maximum funding on logistics and maintenance).

134 x Forthar-class SSN (18/38/38/38/2)
52 x Port-class SSGN (6/14/14/14/4)
70 x Haenulf-class SSF (16/16/16/16/6)
3 x Peel-class CVBN (0/1/1/1/0)
6 x Royal Holly-class CVN (0/2/2/2/0)
2 x Royal Edmund-class CV (2/0/0/0/0)
9 x Walmsley-class CVS (0/3/3/3/0)
13 x Rapier-class CVD (4/3/3/3/0)
3 x Coronation-class BBGN (0/1/1/1/0)
4 x Ocean-class BBGN (1/1/1/1/0)
13 x Bastion-class BBGN (1/4/4/4/0)
8 x Charter-class BBGN (2/2/2/2/0)
49 x Duchy-class CAG (11/12/12/12/2)
54 x Morrigan-class CGN (7/15/15/15/2)
151 x Wallace-class DDG (GP) (28/41/41/41/0)
100 x County-class DDG (AD) (6/26/26/26/16)
279 x Furtive-class FFH (39/80/80/80/0)
132 x River-class K (32/32/32/32/4)
40 x Crocodile-class LCS (10/8/8/8/6)
8 x Lord-class LHD (2/2/2/2/0)
20 x Ungforth-class LPD (2/2/2/2/12)
28 x Valley-class LSD (2/2/2/2/20)
7 x Admiral-class AGFN (1/2/2/2/0)
21 x Siren-class AGI (3/5/5/5/3)
136 x Lake-class MCDV (MCM) (40/32/32/32/0)
98 x Freki-class PG (16/20/20/20/22)
98 x Geri-class PG (16/20/20/20/22)
23 x Lem-class AFS (4/6/6/6/1)
8 x Pasteur-class AH (2/2/2/2/0)
11 x Gabin-class AKR (2/2/2/2/3)
41 x Smith-class AOE (0/7/7/7/20)
81 x Flansburgh-class AOR (17/18/18/18/10)
22 x General Marsden-class AP (4/4/4/4/6)
45 x Aylesburgh-class AS (6/12/12/12/2)
176 x LCAC (18/27/27/27/104)
96 x LCM
80 x RHIB
Drones
589 x Auk DHM.1 (116/140/140/140/53)
14 x Parrot DES.1 (2/4/4/4/0)
323 x Puffin DHEW.1 (63/69/69/69/53)
475 x Rook DRA.1 (105/120/120/120/10)
398 x Tern DA.1 (110/96/96/96/0)
3,464 x Cuttlefish DSR.1 (470/936/936/936/186)
272 x Porpoise DSMC.1 (80/64/64/64/0)
208 x Seahorse DSA.1 (24/56/56/56/16)
1,036 x Squid DSM.1 (160/280/280/280/36)
Aircraft
153 x Harrier II FA.2 (18/45/45/45/0)
192 x Sea Tempest F.1 (48/48/48/48/0)
264 x Sea Tempest FB.1 (48/72/72/72/0)
56 x Sea Tempest EW.1 (8/16/16/16/0)
136 x Sea Tempest ADS.1 (16/36/36/36/0)
44 x E-2D Hawkeye (8/12/12/12/0)
72 x AH-64D Apache Longbow (18/18/18/18/0)
698 x Merlin HC.1 (109/141/141/141/166)
1,297 x Merlin HM.1 (201/373/373/373/28—includes below)
51 x Merlin HM.1 (AEW; CVS, LHD)

I know this is massive, but the three RRF were already at sea. Will make IC post tomorrow...

[OOC: I'll post Commander Olivetti hearing from Lewis tomorrow, as I'm heavily involved in an essay. Mike, can you post with the action of Lewis phoning Olivetti?]

After hanging up the phone with Sarzo, Lewis took a brief moment to exult in the rescue, then she composed herself. Time to act, she thought.

Lewis picked up the phone and called Commander Olivetti. "Let's get the show on the road," she said. "It's time for Operation Righteous Bitchslap to begin."

Olivetti gave the signal to his men to begin Phase 2 of the operation, which was to capture Wilson and defeat the RSTF forces and restore Sarzo to his rightful place in office. Once Sarzo was reinstalled in office, he would reconvene Parliament, possibly in the David Crosby Convention Center until Parliament Hall was rebuilt again, but that would be a matter for another day. The first part of this mission was to capture Wilson dead or alive, even though a growing number of Sarzonians wanted Wilson dead.

-----

At the Hamptonian compound in Woodstock, Tyler walked over with a security envelope. Sarzo opened it and read the contents.

"According to this, their military compound is located at the Old Military Monument on 43rd and Oliver. They have 50 tanks of Porosz Corporation design and make and they have an additional 25 units made in Scandavian States. They have a supply corridor beginning at the Shop 'N Save on 18th and Cunningham in Northeast Woodstock.

"If you can take out the power plant that's across the street, that will take out approximately 50 percent of their communications array and it will take at least 72 hours for them to recalbriate everything.

"If I know Wilson, he's probably holed up somewhere in Parliament Hall right now. If that's the case, his military/government command centre would most likely be somewhere in the South Quadrant of the building. Expect that area to be heavily defended. Our best time to launch the attack is now, so let's begin."

Ambor gave the signal, then the action began.

Vice Admiral Sir Arthur Cunningham looked at the plots of the fleet on the ODIN screen in the CIC of the HINMS Admiral Brock. "Do we have any word of what's going on in Sarzonia?"

"No sir," Captain Drummond replied. "We have received word that the Portland Iron Works is currently not receiving new orders, but other than that, nothing."

"Then send in the LDF and bring the three RRF to within striking distance."

--2nd Expeditionary Fleet, 700 NM off Sarzonian Coastline--

The Flag Staff of the fleet assembled in the Fleet Command Room deep inside the protective armor of the Thomas Paine. Vice Admiral Kelly joined a half dozen other Admirals to plan and execute their orders. Less than a hour ago, they received orders to strike at rebel targets in Woodstock. Now 45 F/A-42 Ravens and 55 F-54 Recluse JSFs, divided into two waves, were in the air heading toward their targets: Old Military Monument on 43rd and Oliver, supply corridor beginning at the Shop 'N Save on 18th and Cunningham in Northeast Woodstock, power plant, and the South Quadrant of Parliament Hall.

"All squadrons signal green light." Lieutenant Admiral Puliz, Commander of the 2nd Fleet's Aviation Squadrons, said as she looked at one of the display screens.

"Alert President Sarzo."


[OOC: I didn't have time to include the following: The three Airborne Divisions and their Air Armada are 6 hours from Woodstock.]

Vice Admiral Cunningham noted a fresh set of signatures on the left of the ODIN screen. The computers had identified the vessels as coming from Hamptonshire. "What satellite assets do we have overhead?" It seemed to be a fleet of very massive ships.

"A few, sir," Capt. Drummond replied.

"Contact the Hamptonshire ships, see what they're doing," ordered the Admiral.

On the flight decks of the various ships, aircraft and drones were readying for flight. Strike packages were armed and strike-CAPs prepared. Squadrons were briefed underneath, only now learning about Hamptonshire ships on the radar horizon.

Aboard the bridge of the ISS Repulse, a Resolute-class battleship that served as the flagship of a squadron of 20 ships, Gladys Nightingale sat nervously. Her 20 ships were all that Wilson had to serve as the resistance force's "fleet" to oppose large Isselmerian-Nielander and Hamptonian fleets that were on their way to blockade Sarzonia. Until just recently, she was the highest ranking officer who was willing to go along with the rebel forces, seeing her opportunity to earn more than a field commission as Commodore.

She had only assumed the rank of Captain a scant three years prior and she had essentially charmed her way into the command of the Repulse. She barely had enough experience to command a ship of her size, let alone a squadron that was going to face nearly impossible odds.

Captain Joseph Tyner was late to the scene, but he wouldn't have wanted the responsibility of commanding the squadron even if he were there when Wilson doled out the assignment. His Duchy-class cruiser ISS Ishbain had just completed a massive refit that included new sensor systems and a brand new Millennium Gun CIWS system.

By all rights, he knew his experience could have given him command of the squadron, but he was content to let Nightingale handle things. He knew full well what even the naive Nightingale was beginning to realize. Only one ship, the Trieste was staffed with people who were enthusiastic about the task at hand, and it was an elderly Province-class ship.

"All hands, now hear this," Nightingale signalled on the encrypted channels. "Our plan is as follows: The three Appomattox-class destroyers will stay behind with the Trieste and will serve as a last-ditch blockade running squadron. "The Ishbain will command a squadron of five other ships including the Pirahnas and the Skipjacks. The rest of the fleet will intercept the Isselmerian-Nielander fleets. Aircraft squadrons will launch and we'll begin missile saturation with all available anti-missile batteries. Our mission begins now!"

The ships began to steam toward their final stands. Everyone in each ship knew there was little to no chance that they would survive a battle against two large naval powers. Even a united Sarzonian effort would have trouble with the fleets that were on their way, but they knew they couldn't let the fleets show up without at least token resistance. The Insurgent-class submarine that was with Nightingale's group was refitted to serve as a small attack submarine and went on the lookout for ships to plunder from either side.

Nightingale slowly brought her right hand to her chin pensively. She took a deep breath and stared toward the screen displaying the images in front of them pensively. Why couldn't Tyner be here right now, she whined inwardly. Look commanding, she reminded herself. She stood up, hoping to project a sense of calm and hoping her jitters wouldn't be evident to her crew.

"Are the fleets in range?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Get them in range and when you do, launch every single missile we've got. Target our guns at their larger ships, their aircraft carriers, their battleships, whatever's large that we can hit."

"Aye, sir."

She didn't know exactly how things were going to play out. No one did. But she knew one thing: No matter what happened, this would definitely be something to go down in Sarzonian history.

"Commodore O'Leahry [Commander of the Radar Picket Squadrons] reports radar contact with the Isselmere-Nielander fleet" an communications officers reports to the assembled Admirals.

"What are you orders Admiral Kelly?" Rear Admiral Chuck Walker, the Fleet's Battleship Commander, asked as the IN fleet grew closer on the radar display.

"Broadcast the following message:
This is Vice Admiral Edgar Kelly of the Hamptonian Royal Navy 2nd Expeditionary Fleet. We are under the direct orders of President Sarzo and Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I to strike rebel land targets and blockade the rebel fleet.

Please close distance.

Send them the order given to use by Sarzo as well as the composition of the fleet, just in case they don't think we're on the up and up."

Rear Admiral Walker walked around the display table, he seemed puzzled. "Admiral, I don't like this at all. The RSTF should know that we're here, yet we have nothing on our long range recon scans. I'd like permission to break off my battleships to hunt the enemy."

"Permission denied. Our large ships will stay well within the inner defensive sphere." Kelly noticed that Walker was a bit upset by the news. "Chuck, once our radar pickets or airplanes have picked up the enemy I'll personally order full engagement."


2nd Expeditionary Fleet
Combatant-
1 x Patrick Henry Class Heavy Command Dreadnaught (BBCN)
1 x Pernicious II Class ICVBN
2 x Vulpine Class CVBN
6 x Quantum Class CVACN
4 x Proxima Class CVEN

5 x Gettysburg Class BBGN
8 x Coral Sea Class BBLGN
8 x Twain Class BB

16 x Olympia Class CB
18 x Merciless Class CAAN
4 x Vengeance Class FCGN

22 x Newport Class DDGN
10 x Majesty Class Land Attack Destroyer (DDN)

14 x Stalwart Class Patrol Frigates (FFGN)
6 x Stalwart Class Land Attack Frigates (FFN)

12 x Brutus Class SSN
4 x Caesar Class SSGN

125 warships

Non-Combatant-
1 x Eugene Class Joint Command Ship (LCC)
14 x Texarkana Class LSV
4 x Texarkana Class LSV-SSV
6 x Texarkana Class LSV-TT
3 x Texarkana Class Helicopter Carrier (LSV-CH)

22 x Johnston Class Supply Ship (AOE)
18 x Replenisher Class Oilers (AO)

1 x Blue Cross Class Hospital Ship (T-AH)
2 x Metch Class Medical Support Ship (L-AH)

71 Non-Combatant vessels

2nd Expeditionary Fleet- 196 vessels


-----------------------------------

The first wave of 45 F/A-42s, 100 miles from the Capital, began their final attack run into Woodstock. In less than ten minutes they would begin their attack. Thrity minutes behind them were the F-54s. Once the Ravens dropped their main bomb loads, they were to harass the RSTF forces on the ground until the F-54s were on the scene.

[OOC: Airborne Divisions now 3 hours from entering Sarzonian Airspace and 4 hours from their Drop Zones.]

[OOC: First off, let me apologise for using the name "Arthur Cunningham." Had I known my many years of watching far too much television would make me pick such names, well... And Sarzonia, you pre-empted me on that Millennium Gun update. Oh, how I wish I'd been quicker. :)]

"Vice Admiral Kelly, Vice Admiral Cunningham here," the Expeditionary Force commander relayed over secure communications, switching to telegraphese. "Have received confirmation of your status in the area. Will jointly establish total exclusion zone (TEZ) with your fleet at soonest. Am closing and am ready to launch packages. Fleet composition follows."

The three RRF spread out in line [OOC: not all ships in line, just the larger formations] with the MEF behind. The LDF advanced through the battle line at 24 kts., until the satellites overhead revealed a potentially unwelcome development. The cruiser squadron from Jimnam (1 Region-class CBG, 4 Duchy-class CAG, I think) was kept with the 1-RRF in the centre of the line, well inside the defensive perimeters.

"Sir," Capt. Drummond said, "we have twenty [OOC: is it twenty surface ships, or twenty altogether? Let's say the satellites are only able to pick out the surface ships...] ships coming from Sarzonia, intention unknown."

VAdm Cunningham sent the new information to VAdm Kelly and ordered the battle line to pick up speed, allowing the LDF to fall behind to protect the MEF. The strike packages readied for anti-ship action were swiftly launched in case the situation got ugly.

Aboard the submarines, the Forthar-class SSNs operating above the thermocline noted the rise in noise above them and pursued it. Every fourth launched Squid drones to inform their fellow submariners below of the seeming change in plans. On the Port-class subs, captains waited until they reached 800 nm from the Sarzonian shore as pre-arranged before each launched four Seahorse drones that swiftly sped to their assigned coordinates, pinging with their medium frequency sonars all the way.

OOC: Permission to join?

OOC: Permission to join?

OOC: It's kind of late; anyway, you should TG Sarzonia.

From the Isselmere-Nielander Peel- and Royal Holly-class carriers came nine strike packages -- each comprised of 20 fighters flying escort (5 flights), 40 strike fighters armed with two GWS.72A Herons and one GWS.52A Pelican (10 flights), 4 electronic warfare aircraft (divided among the strike aircraft, with 1 for every 5 strike flights, 1 for the ADS flight, 1 flying somewhat forward), and 12 air defence suppression aircraft (3 flights)[all variants of the ZaS-27M aircraft] -- while the Royal Edmund-class carriers hung back to protect the fleet and, if necessary, to respond. The Harriers from the Walmsley-class carriers flew fleet-CAPs under the direction of the AEW Merlins. Covered by this show of air power, patrol boats of the Freki- and Geri-classes raced forward, using the datalink to feed updated information to their fire control systems.

"Prepare for the worst," VAdm Cunningham told Capt. Drummond, "as we'll likely get it."

[OOC: consider it a slightly enlarged BUMP :)]

OOC; I know it's late, but would it be possible to join. This would be my first actual NationStates RP... will TG Sarzonia.

The 2nd Fleet's carriers and non-combatants pulled back to a safe distance from the front of the main body of the Fleet. Most of the Stalwarts and Majesty Destroyers pulled back to defend the supply and support vessels. Above the sea, 312 of the Fleet's remaining fighters provided air support.

The twenty-one battleships of the 2nd Expeditionary Fleet moved into a chevron formation with the Heavy Command Dreadnaught Thomas Paine itself at the lead. To provide an anti-missile and anti-air screen the Merciless Cruisers and Newport DDGNs moved ahead of the Battleship Line.

On the flanks Brutus Class Submarines and Vengeance Class Fast Missile Cruisers stood ready to pick of any ship attempting to outflank the main line.

Behind all that action, the sixteen newly built Mk. II upgraded Olympia Class Cruisers stood steam ahead ready to act. Should everything go as planned, they would steam ahead at full power and join the Battleship Line. If any RSTF tried to run our outflank the line, they were there to put the rebels in their place.


[OOC: I won't RP the attack on Woodstock or the Airborne jump until Sarzonia posts. Fair is fair...heh.]

[OOC: I apologise profusely that this sounds like a bleeding advert... I guess we'll see if it works!]

The battleships and cruisers of the RINN launched Tern DA.1 drones from their flight decks, each armed with one GWS.50A Pigeon ARM and two GWS.65A1 (IR) Kite AAM. As they were striking from their maximum range against a heavily defended foe, it wasn't expected many would return. Their computer brains would do their best, however. Rooks (DRA.1) were launched as well to provide over-the-horizon targetting solutions for missiles and the heavy guns should the satellite feeds fail.

Meanwhile, ASW helicopters plumbed the depths with dipping sonar or with sonobuoys, hunting for unwelcome underwater visitors hunting above the thermocline.

The crowd at the Parliament Dome was, for the third time in as many weeks, turning against the Prime Minister. Boykostan was growing from an agrarian to industrial nation, and the people, happy for decades with being a small, agrarian island, liked growing – and wanted more.

“Mr. Prime Minister, what you’ve done is stunt our country’s economic growth out of phantom fears of job loss. Foreign corporations are taking their money elsewhere, and Boykostani are losing jobs – the very jobs you claimed your economic proposals would protect. I ask you this: Are your actions motivated by your isolationism, or just your lack of foresight.”

“Mr. Barron, I have heard the clarion call of those who wish to expand Boykostan’s sphere of influence to more than these few islands. But we live in an increasingly hostile world…”

The gallery started talking and yelling.

“…a hostile world of people who would take advantage of us, not just militarily but economically as well. I will not have Boykostan under foreign rule by… [louder chatter] by the sword or by trade. Over the past 3 years, we have experienced an economic and population growth unlike that of any previous Administration. We may one day indeed take a step upon the world stage but until that day comes we must remember that the brink of greatness is also a precipice.”

The crowd was angry, and the Sergeant at Arms had to call the gallery to order.

Five hours later, the Prime Minister, Tom Boek, sat in front of his desk at the official Executive Residence at the Twelfth End in Lexington. Stewart Trent walked in. Over the past 8 years of campaigns and offices, Trent, his campaign manager, his unofficial advisor, had become the rarest of creatures – a friend in politics.

“Are yeh a feckin’ idjet, Tom?”

Tom looked up from the evening paper. “That’s the easiest question I’ve had all day. The Lexington Herald says… ah, here we go. ‘Yes. Tom Boek is a stupid idiot. Oh, and a coward.’” The Dartmouth Marionnette agrees. Why did I get into this again?

“Yeh didn’t. Yeh were the minority government leader durin a pedophilia scandal three years ago. Since then, y’ive gone all wonky on me, Tom. Let a little power go to yer head and pushed changes through before people were ready. And then it scared yeh and now y’ive started cutting back and trying to go backwards.”

“I’m not going backwards. We’re just not ready for this, Stewart. We’re experiencing an economic boom – but that doesn’t mean that we can just open up the markets and start… playing with the giants just cause we’ve grown a couple of inches.”

“Tom, yeh got to do something. Yeh don’t wanna be P.M. anymore, I don’t blame yeh. I don’t blame anybody. But yeh aren’t thinking about the big picture. Yeh lose the election a year from now, and the Tories take back control, and y’ive got things just as bad as they were under Hereld. Remember him? The rat basterd that got yeh off yer sorry ass and running for Parliament.”
“Those were not happy times, Stewart… I don’t know. Just give me a few hours to think about something.”

“Whatever it is, y’ive got to do it soon. Hereld was bad, but this new group of Barron’s… by god, they’re ten times as worse. They get in, we’ll be at war with… oh, fuck knows who, but they’re bloodthirsty bastards and after we get our asses kicked, they’ll sell off the country piece meal to those big corporations.”

Boek looked down at the paper.

“Tom, I know you hate to think about this, but you might have to compromise a few of yer god damned principels to feckin’ win the election. And that means you have to show that you’re not a feckin’ coward. God help yah, Tom, but can’t you rattle the sabers just a little?”

“What sabers? I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but we’ve got more pro athletes in this country than fully-trained military personnel.”

“What happened to yer free college education for service pledge?”

“It passed. Congratulations, we now have the most academically accredited inactive reserve in the southern East Pacific. The Longidium Post Exchange was designed by specialist with a M.A. in Architecture”

“Oh.”

Trent paused.

“Did seem a bit ‘Frank Lloyd Wright’ for a military supermarket.”

“God damn, Stewart, do you realize that we don’t even have ambassadors to many nations? They keep insisting that we made the country name up. And that’s always a rigmarole.”

“Well, Tom, y’ive just got to do something. Preferably before next week’s question time. Cause they slaughtered you out there.”

“Oh, god, I don’t want to think about that. Whose stupid idea was it to parade me in front of Parliament every week, anyway?”

“Yours. Remember? ‘Openness in government.’ The campaign pledge?”

“Damn.”

Boek rubbed his temples, removing his glasses, plopping them down on the table, landing on some story from the wire services about mobilization of the Hamptonshire fleet.

“Just give me time, Stewart. I’ll think of something.”

A short note was suddenly displayed on Colonel Yussuf's visor, followed by a small GPS map which was dotted with small, moving tactical symbols. He pressed himself against a nearby wall, gesturing his squadmates to a halt with his hand.

Ah, Wilson was on the move again, this time making a run for the Parliament Hall. Well, like it makes any difference, he is a dead man anyway

He frowned, as a second message flashed across his visor.

Damn, seems like Lewis has OKed a massive manhunt on Wilson. What? Airborne assault? 45,000 troops? Isselmerian strike sorties over Woodstock?

He sighed, the situation was escalating, soon there would be Hamptonians swarming all over the place.

"All right, boys, seems like we are to get some company, anytime soon. May I remind you that we are uninvited guests on this little party and I doubt they will be able to discern any differences between us and those rebels. That means we are going to Parliament hall as fast as own our legs can bear us, understood?"

A loud groan reverberated in his ears. Satisfied, he hurtled on through the darkness, an automatic rifleman on his heels, clutching a SAW in his hands.

Meanwhile, the sun began peaking over the horizon, her sun rays glinting off the majestic skyline of Woodstock. Major Ryan bin Said, a 36-year old Delta, dashed on through the last shreds of darkness, which had masked the movements of his squad for so long. They had already searched through Hoover prison, to stumble across nothing but dozens of motionless bodies draped over the floors, blocking the narrow pathways. He had signaled Yussuf about their failure and they were told to rendezvous on a small plazza near Parliament Hall. Now, they had lit on a small manhole to move on under a safe cloak of darkness Ryan halted, trying to lift it up. It opened easily and Ryan was the first to descend a small ladder leading into the sewer system under Woodstock. In their preparations, Ryan had uploaded a small map of the sewer net into the computer system of his suit, just in case. Now, he guided his men through the sewers, his detailed sight provided by the projection of the feed of a small millimetric wave radar, embedded in the right shoulder of their suit, on his visor.

Nightingale fidgeted in her seat. Her tiny squadron of 20 total ships was no match for even one of the fleets approaching it, let alone two and she knew it. Still, the smaller squadrons continued closing in on the massive armadas they faced with every man and woman on board each ship knowing the odds of survival were slim to none.

There was only one seaworthy aircraft carrier, the ISS Essex, and that was an aging Royal Edmund-class carrier that was nearing the end of its service life. The Penelope, a converted merchant liner, had 20 SZ-2 fighters from Avalon Aerospace and that was going to have to suffice as the aircraft complement for the RSTF.

"Sir, we're in range now."

"All missiles fire!"

The ships launched every possible missile at both fleets, with the aircraft taking off and heading toward the fleets to provide additional firepower, such as it was. One squadron of 12 jets headed toward the Isselmerian fleets broke off and set upon the drones with instructions to knock them out, while anti ship missile fired away.

An attack helicopter launched from the Repulse to seek out the submarines in each fleet that was headed toward Sarzonia's coast. Nightingale knew that the shore batteries were being held by loyalist forces so she couldn't train the massive VLS batteries or railguns on either of the fleets.

Here goes everything, Nightingale thought. She knew there was no chance of winning, but she hoped she could stall for time long enough for Wilson to take what was going to be left of the RSTF out of the country for them to initiate another plan.

Meanwhile, in Woodstock, Wilson fidgeted. He was pacing around his makeshift office at Parliament Hall knowing that an attack would come, but he was waiting for his private jet to come to take him out of the country. He realized that the manhunt would be on and he'd have to figure out a way to evade it for his plans to continue in some form.

Where is that Goddamn jet, he thought.

He scanned the daytime skies as if by staring out the window of Parliament Hall he could will the jet to land and get him to relative safety. He had no way of knowing that the pilot of the jet that was to take him out of Sarzonia ran afoul of the Al Sabirian forces and that the military escort he was supposed to get was on the verge of capture by the Pacitalians.

The radars from the escorting fighters and the Hawkeyes picked out the aircraft from Sarzonia as word came from Fleet that the drones were being knocked from the sky. The Rooks bobbed and weaved but longer ranged air-to-air missiles from the twelve Sarzonian fighters struck down eight of their number and eighteen of the similarly disadvantaged as well as larger and laden Terns. The remaining Terns dropped their Pigeons and advanced into the fray, their Kites at the ready.

Within the strike packages, the strike fighters launched their Pelicans and raced to the deck to follow their former charges. The escorts sped ahead to drive off the incoming Sarzonian fighters, although four flights broke off to assist the drones.

The missile launch by the Sarzonian ships was noted. VAdm Cunningham ordered the SHORAD and VSHORAD [short-range and very short-range air defences] placed on automatic. The comparatively small number of fighters certainly was made up for by the immense numbers of missiles headed his direction, but Sir Arthur responded in kind. "To Fleet, Hurricane and Pelicans, fire, and once in range, open up with the Herons and the big guns." I wish we'd undergone the planned CIWS update, the Vice Admiral thought.

Air defence crews waited until the missiles, highlighted by the search radars of the Hawkeyes and Merlins, came into the operational range of the Ernes and readied to fire. Damage control teams assembled and ships were made ready to accept casualties and damage.

Woodstock International, normally buzzing with activity, was desolated, the formerly crisp and immaculate civilian aircaft parked on its ramps lined with minor traces of corrosion.

The distinctive roar from the double Honeywell engines filled the skies. A compact G100 Gulfstream touched down on an empty airstrip, its tires screeching violently over with the tarmac. The aircraft quickly dashed to its designated ramp space, its engines still running.

In the shadows of the control tower, four Deltas silently slipped over the concrete, noticing the ladder that had been let down from the cockpit. A short, stocky man descended the steps, the Cuban cigar in the corner of his mouth emitting a thick wisp of smoke. Dressed in the officer's uniform of the Sarzonian Air Force, the man exuded some sort of confidence, or arrogance for that matter. His back was erected and with a firm pace he sped over the grounds to the hangar.

He didn't get there. Staff Sergeant Jamie Cobb, tackled the man, headlocked him and dragged him back into darkness. An ancient .45 ACP Webley Revolver was pulled from its holster and slammed against the man's head. He slumped down onto the ground immediately. Cobb grabbed his combat knife and prowled towards the aircraft's landing gear. The extraction of Wilson from the country had been kept top secret, so the pilot was the only living being in miles, except for the Deltas of course, since Woodstock International had been locked down. Attaching the elongated charges to the hydraulics in the opened landing gear bays, Cobb set the timer on 30 seconds, making a run for safety.

30 seconds later, a subdued explosion reverberated over the Airport and tiny steel fragments were catapulted through the air, plinking into any object they encountered. The aircraft had smacked down onto the tarmac, her left wing showing severe cracks, leaving it crippled.

The Fleet-CAPs received word of numerous missile plots through the datalink. VAdm Cunningham, fearing further missile or air attacks, ordered them to keep their altitude.

[In other words, bump.]

[OOC: Extreme violence toward the end of this post. You have been warned.]

"Incoming missiles!"

"Fire all anti-missile batteries!"

"Sir, they're firing their big guns at us!"

"Return fire!"

The Repulse got its big 20 inch guns into the fray, along with 11 inch guns from the two Alliance-class supercruisers that were also part of the fleet. They decided to make their targets the big aircraft carriers and the aircraft themselves became targets as well."

"We've got to launch our decoys," Lieutenant Harvey Bryan yelled at Nightingale. Even though he was in the Navy much longer than Nightingale was, he was only a lieutenant because Navy Command thought he was too brusque for higher rank. Still, Nightingale knew better than to show him up or contradict him.

"Launch all decoys. Instruct the attack submarines to fire their torpedoes at the largest ships in the Isselmerian fleet."

"Aye, sir."

The submarines fired torpedoes as quickly as they could and began an evasive pattern to prevent themselves from being easy targets. Each submarine commander knew that his or ber luck would eventually run out and the subs would eventually nestle in the bottom of the ocean, but they were determined to take as many Isselmerian ships with them as they could.

A squadron of six aircraft veered off in the direction of the fleet firing its anti-ship missiles at the ships in immediate view. They were going to make this battle as memorable as they could, no matter how poor the odds were.

------

Wilson realized that time was running out. He would have to make a break for it and he grabbed a couple of aides and ran down the secret corridor in the direction of an escape route for Parliament members or the President to go to their secret underground location where they ran the country in the event of a massive strike against Woodstock. Wilson climbed down the steps with the elevator still out and breathlessly tried the access code, which was on a power generator.

"Damn it," he yelled, punching the wall next to the panel. The password had been changed since he was removed from office. Finally, a janitor came by sweeping the floor. Wilson grabbed him and lifted him off the ground.

"Gimme the password!"

"I-- I don't know it," the janitor croaked, his breathing constricted by the vise-like grip Wilson had on him. "I'm just a janitor."

Wilson pulled out his gun.

"If you don't give me that Goddamn password by the count of three, I'll blow your fucking brains in. Capisce?"

"Sir, I've got two young grandkids and one on the way. I gotta take care of them. Their mommy's dead."

"One. Two."

"No, sir! Please!"

Wilson didn't wait 'till the count of three. Just a second later, the janitor was lying on the floor with blood seeping out of his lifeless body. Wilson looked at his gun, still smoking from the discharge and sneered.

"Three."

He tried one more password and then remembered there was an emergency override. He punched it in and pulled on it. The door opened and Wilson ran in, taking care to close the door behind him.

[OOC: stupid me for not posting I'd keep the carriers to the rear... Strange question, however, how close are we?]

Erne missiles fired from the decks and side mounts from the various ships of the armada, followed by the few Grand Kestrels [like ESSMs but with active radar] and masses of Kites. Decoys would hopefully take care of most of the rest. The submarines, noting the noises above, followed the pounding sonar pulses of the surface escorts and targetted the enemy submarines with Mako HWTs.

The Seahorse drones slunk to within striking distance of the larger opposing ships with their lightweight torpedoes and prepared to fire.

On the larger ships in the fleet, the battleships and cruisers fired a mix of Eels and Barracuda LWT, the latter for hard kills while the former sought to destroy or dissuade the enemy torpedoes. Using the collective sonar intel, the escorts and capital ships fired Loons in the hope of destroying a few submarines. The carriers broke out of the fray with their escorts, seeking safety, but not before the HINMS Peel received several shells from the Repulse. Superb action from the damage control teams saved the ship from immediate destruction, but it was quite possible the ship would eventually be lost. The Coronation responded with counterbattery fire from its 22" guns, her two sister ships, the Sceptre and Orb following soon after. The Ocean-class battleships swerved to avoid the torpedoes launched at them whilst firing their six forward 20" guns. The Freki and Geri classes fired their missiles (1,176 Pelicans, 784 Herons) before the latter advanced to fire their Mako torpedoes.

The air was full of missiles and artillery. Who knew how the day would end...

They had landed successfully.

In groups of 20, Strike Teams 1 through 40 moved towards the ruined Parliament Hall of Sarzonia. Commander Olivetti was in the lead. The SAFD slipped into their usual method of stealth run.

After 10 minutes of stealthing through Woodstock, Parliament Hall appeared three blocks away.

"Right, guys," Commander Olivetti's voice was quiet but confident over the earpiece radios. "Strike Teams 1 to 4, head left down 16th Avenue, make a boomerang and blockade all exits from the Government grounds. Strike Teams 5 to 10, you're with me. We're heading straight for the heart of the Parliament area. Strike Teams 11 to 15, head right down 16th and make a boomerang. Make a blockade like we discussed. And Strike Teams 16 to 40, line yourselves up in stealth formation and move slowly towards Parliament like 5 to 10, and wait for further instructions."

One by one, the leaders of each strike team signalled their understanding. "Roger", "10-4"...

The teamgroups went their separate ways. Strike Teams 5 to 10 headed with Olivetti towards Parliament Hall. A symbolic glow hung over the ruined edifice, like democracy itself calling to them, itching to be reinstated.

Commander Olivetti radioed. "Ok, 5 to 10." He took a deep breath. "Let's do it."

Noting the noise above, the Port-class submarines fired their Hurricane (12 per sub) and Pelican (4 per sub) missiles at the contacts closest to the Sarzonian coast before speeding to torpedo range at 18 kts.

Ernes, Kites, and Larks sought out their anti-ship counterparts while decoys and 30mm rounds would hopefully destroy the remnants.

In the air, the ADS aircraft launched their anti-radar missiles (4 each) while the EW aircraft sought to blanket the enemy fleet in static, firing their own pair (each) of anti-radar missiles. The fleets tried the same to cover their intended enveloping manoeuvres around the Sarzonian flotilla. Forthar-class sub commanders struck fast against identifiably enemy contacts with torpedoes and Sub-Heron missiles. The Haenulf-class submarines continued their drive towards the shoreline to drop off their special operations contingents. The Crocodile-class ships did the same but at much higher speed, diverting around the opposing flotilla.

[OOC: sorry I'm not being more accurate about damage and assessments...]

"Missiles incoming!"- Quote from one of 36 Ship Commanders.


The forward placed destroyers activated their CAMDS and other anti-missile system to protect themselves and providing a screen for the Battleship Line.

---------------------

Once the missiles were spotted, the Coral Sea Class BBLGNs began the process of firing off their entire massive payloads. In less than 6 minutes 11,520 anti-aircraft and small anti-ship missiles would be fire from four of the Light Battleships. Three others began their five minute firing sequence to launch 360 (1,080 total) FastFalcon anti-ship cruise missiles. Hispanola, the lead Coral Sea, would close distance and wipe up any remaing RSTF air cover.

While the Coral Seas slowed down, Vice Admiral Kelly ordered the remaining Battleships to close distance at flanking speed. Each Gettysburg trained its eighteen forward firing 18-inch ETCs on the first avaliable target. The massive 20 inch guns of the Twains were ordered to come to bare on the largest rebel ship. The Thomas Paine kept pace with the rest of the Line, ready to fire on any targets of opportunity.

---------------------

A voice came over the radio- "This is Flight Leader to Squadron Leaders, packages are a Go. Repeat Packages are a Go." Fifty-five F-54s fired their guided missiles are the targets indentified by President Sarzo. The jets were safely fifty miles from Woodstock- F/A 42 Ravens flying at their maximum altitude painted the targets with their laser designators.

Once the missiles hit the targets, the F-54s would return to the now battle-engaged 2nd Fleet while the Ravens remained over Woodstock to provide air cover for the 97th Airborne Corps [the three Airborne Divisions have been joined together as the 97th Airborne Corps for ease of organization].

---------------------

"Yellow Light! 30 minutes!" the Jumpmaster yelled to the paratroopers in the transport plane. The 45,000 men and women of the 97th Airborne Corps were 30 minutes from their Drop Zones. Each soldier was ready to do their duty, and if necessary die for their country.

All throughout the squadron sent to intercept the Isselmerian armada, the scene around the bridge of ship after ship was some variation of:

"Damage report!"

"She's taking heavy fire sir!"

"Return fire!"

"Sir, we're getting a leak on Deck 8. Fires on Decks 9, 11 and 12."

"Damage control teams to all decks!"

"Sir, we're losing communication with the other ships in the fleet."

"Guess we're on our own then."

One by one, ship after Sarzonian ship met a watery grave until only the Repulse herself was left to pound away with missiles and guns. Even she was starting to take a beating.

"Sir, we've only got one option left," Lieutenant Harvey Bryan yelled at Nightingale. Before he could tell her, an explosion near the command chair claimed her life and Bryan was the only commanding officer left on the bridge.

"Target the Scourge missiles. Nuclear warheads."

"Sir, that will destroy the whole fleet."

"You heard me, chief."

"Aye sir. Uh, sir... the Scourge launchers are offline!"

"Damn it!"

Another explosion ripped through the hull of the Repulse and the ship could take no more abuse. Bryan gave the one command he hoped he would never even hear.

"All hands, abandon ship."

Lifeboats and escape craft of all types streamed out of the Repulse as the large vessel started its slow descent into the depths of the sea near Nicksia. Bryan had no way of knowing how much -- or how little -- damage he and his crews inflicted upon the massive fleet, but with every last ship and aircraft gone, it was the last thing on his mind.

The squadron set to intercept the Hamptonian fleet didn't have much more than the Duchy-class heavy cruiser in command of its eight ship tally. But it had one secret weapon, the Insurgent-class submarine. Refitted as a small attack submarine, it targeted the nearest Hamptonian ships.

"Fire."

The second of the two squadrons launched missile after missile and the limited guns on each ship opened fire. The small flotilla that remained in port was going to be the last naval hope for the rebels, but even so, they knew there was no chance of winning this battle. Sentiment grew among the members of the crew, and even the commanding officers, to strike colors and end the massacre, but the eight ships firing on Hamptonian forces weren't going to give up easily.

"Torpedoes in the water! Torpedoes in the water!"

"Launch countermeasures, prepare for impact!"

The Thomas Paine's Captain and bridge crew did what they could to avoid the torpedoes in the water. The RSTF submarine managed to slip past most of the destroyers and targeted the flagship itself. Without time to maneuver, it was down to luck...

One of the torpedoes narrowly missed the ship, it managed to travel between the main hull and the port trimaran outrigger before being hit by a countermeasure. One torpedo managed to get through. It hit the main port waterjet intake. The Paine quickly began to make a sharp turn to port while the secondary engine room began to flood.

Two Newport Class Destroyers quickly picked up the submarine on SONAR, they both prepared their torpedo and depth charge launchers.

The other ships of Battleship Line ran ahead at full steam, firing off their 18 and 20 inch cannons. The Destroyers began to fire torpedo spreads while the Olympias prepared to push through the fighting. The Hispanola* continued ahead, it's Commander was determined to push through and launch missiles against the rebel ships still in the harbor.


[OOC: The Hispanola is basically a large Arsenal Ship. I'd appreciate it if you would hit it with something.]

[OOC: A few questions before I post my losses: how many subs did you have and how many aircraft were you flying against the manned strike package? I'll likely put the Peel down as a constructive total loss (CTL) unless the war ends soon and I can put her up at the PIW, and I'll lose at least four Bastion-class, let's say. Were the missiles just targetted generally, or were they fired primarily against the big ships? That will have a big outcome on total losses. In any case, the losses so far...

Peel - potential CTL
Bastion-class - multiple torpedo hits
Bastion-class - magazine explosion from missile hits
Bastion-class - listing heavily to starboard, likely CTL if not sunk beforehand
Bastion-class - extensive fires, CTL
Drone losses - 48 all types (Rooks, Terns)
Sea Tempest losses (F.1) - 6 (so far; these were part of the 16 sent against the 12 aircraft attacking the drones - my reasoning for the 2:1 kill ratio is that they're attacking from above and the drones assisted)]

The Miatonomah, one of the Appottomax-class heavy destroyers in the harbor had just received a supply of missiles and decided to disobey orders from its command officers to wait until the blockade was in place to attempt to break it. It steamed toward the Hispanola and decided to give whatever it had left.

"Fire," her captain ordered.

The Miatonomah fired its 12 inch guns, along with its anti-ship missiles and a handful of torpedoes. Her captain knew somehow that his ship would be the last hope for the RSTF, and even if he went down with his ship, at least there would be something to remember him by in the annals of Sarzonian history.

"Begin evasive maneuvers and launch any decoys we have. I want us to be as hard a target for that big ship as possible."

"Aye, sir."

The Miatonomah began to gain speed as it did its best to negotiate the battle fire and the missiles that seemed to saturate the air and buzz like a hive of bees had just been awakened from its slumber.

[size=1][OOC: A few questions before I post my losses: how many subs did you have and how many aircraft were you flying against the manned strike package? I'll likely put the Peel down as a constructive total loss (CTL) unless the war ends soon and I can put her up at the PIW, and I'll lose at least four Bastion-class, let's say. Were the missiles just targetted generally, or were they fired primarily against the big ships? That will have a big outcome on total losses. In any case, the losses so far...

[OOC: Seven subs total; three sent off after your fleet and four (including the Insurgent-class sub) sent for Hamptonshire's fleets. I had 80 aircraft in the air (60 from the Royal Edmund and 20 from the converted merchant ship). I'm going to RP that all have been shot down. Missiles were targeted mostly at the big ships.]

Commander Addenton, the Hispanola's Executive Officer, again approached Captain Jericho. "Sir, Admiral Kelly is again asking us to hold back."

"Tell the Admiral that we have an openning in the lines. We have to nail these sons of bitches before they get on their feet!"

"Captain, we should at least wait for the Greeley [a Newport Class Destroyer assigned to escort the Hispanola] "to catch up with us. We can't take the risk of..."

A young radar officer interrupted the two men, "Sirs, radar and air units report a ship approaching us fast."

"Where?!?"

"5 miles ahead."

"Arm missiles, prepare to launch." Jericho ordered.

"Sir,, Commander Addenton yelled, "I suggest against that. We'd have to open the armor shutters protecting the missile tubes."

"Weapons Officer- FIRE MISSILES"


The launch sequence started, the armor shutters protecting the two forward missile magazines was retracted. Two small anti-ship missiles were launched from their tubes. Three larger missiles were warming up to fire when three 12 inch shells from the approaching RSTF destroyer hit the Hispanola right in her two forward magazines. Before Captain Jericho could react, before a distress signal could even be sent, six hundred missiles within the bowels of the Hispanola began to explode.

The ensuing explosions snapped the ship in two, producing a fireball that could be seen dozens of miles away.

The Eel anti-torpedo countermeasures and the Barracuda lightweight torpedoes had done their job, but some torpedoes still managed to get through. The Coronation herself had taken four heavyweight torpedoes, but the flooding had been contained. The Sceptre had lost much of its manoeuvrability when one torpedo destroyed two propulsors, a further two colliding into her side. She hung back collecting other damaged ships around her, including the Peel whose flight deck was riddled with nine cavities. Damage control crews did their best to minimise the damage but with one unexploded shell lodged in the hangar, it was impossible to guarantee the ship's survival. Worse still, she was struck by four torpedoes, reducing her speed to a mere three knots. Helicopters lifted the wounded to the hospital ships in the distance while the dead lay on the undamaged sections of the flight deck when they could be found.

Four Bastion-class battleships, the leaders of the 1-RRF's surface battle group, were sinking or on the verge of it. Torpedoes and missiles struck one at the same time, ripping through the hangar deck touching of the aircraft weapons. A devastating fire had raged through the ship, causing the hull to glow red, boiling the surrounding water as the sailors sought to escape before the ship broke in two and sank beneath the waves. Another was struck by a missile underneath the A-turret causing no damage to the barbette but tearing through the top deck and sending the turret a foot into the air, just enough for another missile to sneak in whilst the crew had been in the process of reloading. The freak accident touched off the magazine, blowing the remnants of the turret into the air and the keel out of the ship, which sunk quickly after.

[Will write more when I have the time...]

[OOC: Seven subs total; three sent off after your fleet and four (including the Insurgent-class sub) sent for Hamptonshire's fleets. I had 80 aircraft in the air (60 from the Royal Edmund and 20 from the converted merchant ship). I'm going to RP that all have been shot down. Missiles were targeted mostly at the big ships.]

[OOC: Sorry to be a pest, but would you be satisfied with the four Bastion-class and a further twenty-four fighters, with a lot of damaged ships?]

[Add. OOC: And two sinking County-class destroyers...]

...Two other Bastion-class warships were ablaze, both unlikely to survive the night. The conflagration on one vessel threatened to touch off its shell magazines, which quickly signalled its escorts to depart the immediate area. One destroyer captain, his own ship damaged from SSMs, failed to heed the warnings. Both ships were lost as the stalwart effort of the damage control teams was for nought. Another County-class destroyer was struck by two missiles crippling its steering, sending it in front of two torpedoes that swiftly sent her to the bottom with all hands.

The other two RRF and the LDF noted these losses but kept on. VAdm Cunningham mourned the dead but worried for his allies on the left. He sent the 3-RRF to assist the Hamptonians while the 1-RRF was placed in reserve to collect the RINN survivors. 2-RRF and the LDF advanced to meet the remaining picket, determined to destroy whatever foe was fool enough to enter their sights.

[OOC: Sorry to be a pest, but would you be satisfied with the four Bastion-class and a further twenty-four fighters, with a lot of damaged ships?]

[Add. OOC: And two sinking County-class destroyers...][OOC: Sounds good to me. Remember that I had maybe one capital ship (unless you count the Alliance-class ships and one real aircraft carrier, so I'll definitely accept that since the crews were trying to knock out the biggest ships.]

The seven Rapier-class drone carriers of the 2-RRF and the LDF launched their strike packages consisting of 20 Terns laden with one Heron ASM each. Rooks flew overhead serving as scouts to the two fleets. The larger carriers were busily trying to recover their aircraft and those from the stricken Peel. A further nine aircraft had to ditch [bringing my air losses to 39 manned aircraft]. The Walmsley-class carriers sent six Harriers aloft bearing two Heron ASMs each. Once their strike packages were away, the carriers hung back with their escorts, manoeuvring to prevent any submarine trying to get an easy targetting solution on the carrier groups.

As the heavy guns of the Battleship Line continued to fire at the RSTF warships, the Brutus Class attack subs began their move toward the thick of battle. The Thomas Paine had been hit by six torpedos, five other vessels had also suffered damage from torpedo attacks. Four attack subs sped through the sea at full speed, all tubes loaded, ready to destroy any surviving enemy submarines.


Above the waves, two of the upgraded Olympia Class cruisers turned to engage the rebel destroyer that had sunk the Hispanola. Their fourteen inch guns were too slow to engage the swift destroyer, they had to close distance in order to use their more powerful and quicker firing dual six inch cannons.

OOC: I know I'm a little late to the party, but since my king is set to marry Sarzonia's ambassador and Mike and Jay are to give away the bride is there something I can do, maybe send in some SEALs to rescue Jay or Mike, take on an enemy fleet by coming up their backside by surprise, etc. or would it just be better if I sat back and let it happen without me? Seems you got a damn good set of RP'rs going as it is, but Sarzonia has special ties to my country. Damn, sorry I didn't note this thread earlier.

Strike Team 5 entered the vast Parliament Hall first. Sweeping left, they almost immediately encountered opposition. Two security officers approached, guns drawn.

"Drop your damn weapons!" the first one said loudly.

"Desist now!" Commander Olivetti yelled back. "We are the SAFD of the Republic of Pacitalia, sworn protectors of democracy and a force to help President Sarzo back into power. We will not hesitate to shoot you down!"

"Forget it!" the second one screamed. "You will not pass!"

"Fabrizio! Santorini!" Olivetti ordered.

Swiftly, two of the ST5 members swung forward, shooting the two guards in the chest with rubber bullets. The bullets knocked them cleanly unconscious.

Olivetti radioed. "ST6, commence. ST7, follow 30 seconds."

Almost instantly, Strike Team 6 burst through the front entrance of the building, heading in the opposite direction as ST5 but trying to accomplish the same mission. All twenty members of the team swept furiously, searching for bogeys and targets.

Four members of ST5 knelt down to bind and gag the two guards. They stuffed them into a nearby storage closet and jammed the lock. Those plus another two members of ST5 stayed behind to guard the closet and take down any other escapees.

Olivetti and the 14 other team members reached the end of the hall and sharply turned right, guns drawn. Parliament Hall was a maze and Olivetti was almost dizzy. But he persevered, kept going. He heard distant rumblings as Strike Team 7 burst through the doors.

He clicked on his radio. "Strike Teams 8 & 9, at attention. Follow 60 seconds. Strike Team 10. Follow ST8/9 at 30 seconds."

They reached a conference room. Olivetti waited for the other guards to stop and paused for three seconds. He quietly tried the door handle. Locked. He paused, looking like he was planning something else. Then, quick as a flash, he violently kicked open the door to the room and rushed in, 14 other guards following him closely.

Shit, Wilson isn't here, Olivetti cursed silently.

But somebody else was. A distant whimpering was coming from behind the elegant yet modern conferencing table. Olivetti looked away from the table and snapped and whistled. The guards instantly looked at him for instruction, and understanding him, seven guards moved to the left stance of the table in a semi-crouch. The other seven followed him on the right.

Olivetti held out his hand to pause the guards. Then after three seconds, he yelled "AVANTI!" and the guards stormed the back of the table, guns drawn in a defensive motion.

It was an aide to Wilson.

Olivetti picked him up by his polo shirt and slammed him against a wall. "Bastard! Where is Wilson?" he spat.

"I'll never tell you, you piece of shit," the aide yelled.

Olivetti aggressively slammed the aide against the wall again and a nametag-ID fell out from his shirt tails. He knew it wasn't a good idea to expose himself, so he punched the aide on the chin, knocking him out. Olivetti let him slump down to the ground. He picked up the nametag. "Christopher Myers," he read out loud, matching the picture with the face.

He calmly walked over to the credenza and picked up the jug of water. It was full of icy cold water, meaning the conference hall had just been used by somebody. And Olivetti was willing to bet it wasn't the aide.

Olivetti moved back over to the aide. Setting the pitcher on the desk, he motioned for two guards to come over. They picked Myers off the ground and he stirred, his eyelids flickering. The guards took out adhesive cuffs from their tool pouches and stuck the cuffs to the wall. They pushed Myers' arms and legs through and tightened the cuffs around them. Then they moved back into formation.

Olivetti picked up the jug of water, staring at it for a second, his reflection. He was still pretty young, doing well, especially since he was already a Commander at 34 years old. But now was not the time for anything trivial such as that. He moved over to the strung aide and threw the entire jug of water at his face. Myers screamed in agony at the coldness.

"Wake up, you little shit," Olivetti breathed viciously. "If you don't tell me where Wilson went, you'll be dead. Trust me on that one."

He took three ice cubes off the carpet floor and unzipped and unbuttoned the aide's expensive pants. He stuffed the ice cubes in and zipped back up. Myers began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Y-you bast--ard. Y-you cr-cruel m-man," he spoke with contempt.

"Enough!" Olivetti said. "Cut the emotional bullshit! Tell me where he went."

"NEVER!" Myers managed to yell.

Olivetti turned and motioned to two guards. They sprang forth and pointed their guns at the literal fly-on-the-wall.

"Your last chance," Olivetti spoke calmly but with force. "Tell me, or die."

"Okay, okay!" Myers squeaked in desperation. "Just don't hurt my family."

"Trust me, my friend, I have no intention of hurting your family. I don't even know where they live or who they are. But now that we know you have one, it'd only be too easy..."

"PLEASE! He went into the basement. They built an escape-like bomb shelter in the basement for the President's use. He also takes aides down there."

"Why aren't you down there?" Olivetti asked with a look of doubt.

"Because he told me to wait up here. He said he didn't have a use for me. He takes five aides plus himself."

"I'm sure he did. I'm also positive your wife will be so happy to hear you stood up to the SAFD."

"Y-you're the SAFD?" Myers inquired, intrigued.

"Yes, we are. We're on President Sarzo's side, if you weren't aware."

"Oh, I was aware. Wilson took his rage out on me because of it."

Myers struggled and remembered he was cuffed to the wall.

"Lift my shirt up and that'll prove it."

Olivetti moved toward him and lifted up the polo shirt. A huge open gash lined up diagonally from his ribs to his belly button.

"Jesucristo! Abagodo!" Olivetti screamed.

Andromedis Abagodo walked forth calmly. He was the ST's medic. Promptly, he bandaged and cleaned the wound. When his work was done, he stepped back.

"T-thank you," Myers said.

"Okay, you understand we have to leave you like this, for now. But we'll come back for you," Olivetti replied.

"Why?" Myers asked incredulously.

"Because if we let you go, you'll run outside into the waiting arms of over 30 other SAFD teams, and will most likely be shot to death."

"Oh," Myers spoke plainly. "I see." He looked nervous.

"Thank you for your information. We'll be back."

Olivetti and the guards promptly left and jammed the lock on their way out. They moved to a gaping hole with stairs leading underground.

The Commander radioed Task Force Control three blocks away. "I need to know what this is in front of me."

"Yes, sir," came the fast reply. The soldier on the other end of the line at TFC used GPS to decipher Strike Team 5's location. "It's a staircase leading to subterrain. It appears there are six human-like beings down there."

Six, Olivetti thought. He remembered the conversation with Myers just three minutes earlier. ...five aides plus himself...

"Thank you, soldier."

"Roger that, sir."

Olivetti switched channels back to inter-squad. "Strike Team 10, come to..." He checked his GPS armband for coordinates. "21, C8, 501A, 30, Omega."

The team leader responded with a "Yessir". In exactly sixty seconds, ST10 was approaching behind.

"Ready, sir?"

"Yes, let's head down there," Olivetti replied.

The thirty-five men began their swift descent down the curving cement staircase. Near the bottom light began to filter up. Olivetti stopped and motioned to two guards. They moved forward silently and brought a fiber-optic cable, attaching it to a special monitor. They wrapped it slowly down around the centre pillar of the staircase until they found a room at the bottom.

Wilson and his five aides sat there on benches, with tables drawn up in front of them like a sort of inferior bunker.

Hilarious, Olivetti thought to himself. Such idiots.

Olivetti waved and motioned for two other guards to come forward. They attached a small hose to a canister of chloroform and wound it down beside the optic cable. Reaching the bottom, they turned the lever on the chloroform can and headed back up into positions. After about twenty seconds, all six of them dropped to the floor.

The guards waited with anticipation. The gas had almost dissipated...

OOC: I know I'm a little late to the party, but since my king is set to marry Sarzonia's ambassador and Mike and Jay are to give away the bride is there something I can do, maybe send in some SEALs to rescue Jay or Mike, take on an enemy fleet by coming up their backside by surprise, etc. or would it just be better if I sat back and let it happen without me? Seems you got a damn good set of RP'rs going as it is, but Sarzonia has special ties to my country. Damn, sorry I didn't note this thread earlier.

Aww, MW. Well, Jay and Mike are already "rescued", per se. They're in a secure place now.

Yeah, it would have been even more fun had you come in earlier. You're welcome to come in any future RPs with me. ;)

[OOC: Sarzonia, I'll be posting the jump into Woodstock about 4-5 hours after the timestamp of this post. Just a heads up

EDIT: Work related issues came up. I have to push back posting time by several hours.]

[OOC: Actually, I RP'd that Wilson was on the way to a secret location that's not in Woodstock at all. He would have been en route to a hideaway location that only Sarzonian government officials know about. Besides that, Wilson wouldn't have been so close to the scene with everything crumbling around him.

Then again, I have plans for Sarzo to personally administer justice to Wilson, heh heh. ;)]

[OOC: Actually, I RP'd that Wilson was on the way to a secret location that's not in Woodstock at all. He would have been en route to a hideaway location that only Sarzonian government officials know about. Besides that, Wilson wouldn't have been so close to the scene with everything crumbling around him.

Then again, I have plans for Sarzo to personally administer justice to Wilson, heh heh. ;)]

OOC: Damn, a half hour wasted. :)

OOC: Damn, a half hour wasted. :)[OOC: Eh, don't worry about it. Finding Wilson in the secret location would have just added length to the RP.

But let Sarzo administer his justice to Wilson personally and I'll accept it. ;)]

Aww, MW. Well, Jay and Mike are already "rescued", per se. They're in a secure place now.

Yeah, it would have been even more fun had you come in earlier. You're welcome to come in any future RPs with me. ;)

OOC: Thanks.

IC:
"Honey, I love you, but do you not understand what has been going on in Sarzonia?" said Harriet Levine, the king's fiance'

"Sure I do Harriet, I've kept a very watchful eye on things. However, do you think Mike would let some underling totally take over? He has plans to deal with this kind of garbage and allies besides us you know. I had no doubt he could handle things all by himself. Remember, we helped him defeat those Bishop led rebel dorks in Sarendijii or whatever that hell hole was named."

"You promise? You really knew it would be OK?"

"Of course Harriet, do you think I'd let the father of the bride fail to show up? Mike and Jay know what they're doing. This is a situation they did not need us for. So stop worrying. They are secure now and the insurrection will be put down soon enough. How about this though, just to make you happy. As soon as the war is over, I'll send you with $100 million out of the royal treasury back to Sarzonia on a humanitarian mission to help your people recover from this terrible conflict. OK?"

"Ready!" each paratrooper yelled as they checked the parachute pack of the person in front of them.

The air armada carrying and escorting the 97th Airborne Corps appeared over Woodstock, the rumbling and screaches of jet engines filled the air. Forty-seven thounsand parachutes [45,000 paratroopers, the rest are supplies, vehicles, etc.] soon openned over the Sarzonian capital.

Two battalions [5,000 troops], the 2013th and 3552nd, were dropped near Parliament Hall and the Grey House. While the rest of the Corps had general orders to flush out the insurgents and capture them before they escaped, the 2013th and 3552nd battalions' mission was more symbolic; they would allow President Sarzo to return to his rightful seat of power.

Lieutenant General Issac Astor* would join the 1616th battalion's jump near the Hamptonian Embassy Compound. Once on the ground, elements of the battalion would head to the Embassy to secure the compound and provide personal protection for President Sarzo pending his return to power.


[*-Lieut. General Issac Astor is the younger brother of Jacob Astor, the Interm Speaker of the Royal House of Representatives and Party Secretary of the Popular Party.]

Linda Barker and Kate Jameson* were sitting at their usual sidewalk café trying to put up with Louella Soames again. She was gossiping about Commodore Tucker again.

"Did you hear she and Traci Taylor are an item," Soames said.

"No I didn't," Barker said sharply. She was getting irritated with all the rumor and innuendo out of Soames's mouth.

"Wait, I hear something," Soames said.

Jameson rolled her eyes. Just as she was about to shush Soames, she heard a faint buzzing noise in the background suddenly get more intense. The three women looked and saw the tiny but gradually growing fighter jets approaching their seats. Soames grabbed her binoculars, which she usually used to "dig up dirt" on people for a much better purpose this time.

"Those aren't our Air Force planes," Soames said.

"Let me see," Barker said. Soames passed her the binoculars. Beneath the cover provided by the binoculars, Barker's eyes widened. She could tell the markings were familiar but they weren't Sarzonian. They weren't Isselmerian, Praetonian, or Granzian.

"Can I look," Jameson asked. Barker silently handed the binoculars over to her. Jameson looked and immediately recognized the markings.

"Those are Hamptonian," she said, handing the binoculars back to Soames. The three women knew they had to get out of the cafe, but they hadn't paid their check yet. All of a sudden, the restaurant manager made an announcement over the loudspeaker system normally reserved for karaoke.

"Attention customers, foreign aircraft are on their way into the city. If you haven't paid your check, please come back and do so at another time. But for now, get to safety." He didn't have to tell the three women twice. They all stood up from the table, grabbed their purses, and ran toward the fallout shelter one block down the street. They didn't want to take any chances with Hamptonians on the way.

[*These are the same women who Louella Soames gossiped about Sarzo to in the Gossiping Sarzonians thread.]

Troop carrying helicopters on the amphibious assault craft prepared to launch. Lieutenant Colonel Westling had prepared his men for such actions before, but twenty minutes earlier he decided on giving his battalion a refresher course.

"We'll be heading in hot and we might well expect resistance," he began. "That said, fire discipline must be paramount. These people are our allies and it's only a few scoundrels we will have to deal with. I want to hear of no courts martial arising from our action." He paused briefly, gazing about the room to pick out any potential miscreants. "So, make doubly sure of your targets, no blasting your way on full automatic and no liberally lobbing grenades or expending ordnance. That said, if anyone does fire at you, make it quick and make it neat. I've no desire to visit anyone's mother. Am I understood?"

Bergens loaded, rifles pointed at the deck, the Royal Marines waited to receive the signals from the loadmasters. Their Harrier escorts were getting tanked up over the Royal Edmund-class carriers, which were busily launching their ADS and ground attack packages. Hopefully, no opposition would be present...

Two battalions [5,000 troops], the 2013th and 3552nd, were dropped near Parliament Hall and the Grey House. While the rest of the Corps had general orders to flush out the insurgents and capture them before they escaped, the 2013th and 3552nd battalions' mission was more symbolic; they would allow President Sarzo to return to his rightful seat of power.

Lieutenant General Issac Astor* would join the 1616th battalion's jump near the Hamptonian Embassy Compound. Once on the ground, elements of the battalion would head to the Embassy to secure the compound and provide personal protection for President Sarzo pending his return to power.

The 2013th had, within 30 minutes, incircled Grey House and the remaining rebels held up there. Fearing the possibility of destroying the Sarzonian Presidential residence, the battalion was holding its line until it received orders from either General Astor or President Sarzo himself.

The 3552nd's mission was a bit rougher than their sister battalion. As the paratroopers were descending to the ground, sporatic gunfire was being directed at them. Before the battalion could even assemble there were over three dozen casualties. Once on the ground, however, the building's perimeter was quickly secured.

Lieut. General Astor and the 1616th battalion enjoyed an easy cake walk to the Hamptonian Embassy Compound. The battalion quickly secured the area and received, by parachute, six Portland Light Recon. Tanks. Astor gathered the battalion's Baker Company (250 paratroopers) and four of the Portlands and entered the Embassy Compound.

"Lieutenant, pick one of the Portlands and take out the main gunner. President Sarzo will squeez into it as we escort him to Grey House." Astor said as he entered the main embassy building and made his way to the Command Bunker.


All across Woodstock transport planes were dropping leaflets. As paratroopers passed people on the street or came near to homes, they left the leaflets were the Sarzonians could easily find them.

We Come As Friends

The 97th Airborne Corps of the Hamptonian Royal Army was ordered to deploy into Woodstock by His Hamptonian Royal Highness Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I and by President Mike Sarzo acting in the capacity of Field General, HRA.

Royal Order- No. 836-DK
By order of His Royal Highness Grand Duke Reginald Leopold I, President Micheal Sarzo of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia is hereby given the temporary field rank of Field General, Royal Army. President Sarzo shall have command over all Hamptonian military units operating within the ISS, until such a time as Hamptonian Officer of higher rank shall arrive. Orders given by President Sarzo shall be carried out as long as they do not run counter to previous orders or if they would prove contrary to established Hamptonian Military Protocol.

Signed,
Reginald Leopold I, Magnus Dux

[Sarzo's order to the 2nd Expeditionary Fleet and the 97th Airborne Corps is shown here]

Our mission is to restore Sarzo to power and to aide in the process of ending the RSTF as a force that can threaten the peace and stability of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia. Citizens of Sarzonia need not fear us, only those defined as rebels by President Sarzo himself shall be the target of the 97th Airborne Corps.

We are not here to establish Martial Law or to curtail your civil liberties, we do ask that you please remain indoors as much as possible to prevent any mishaps.

Thank you.

In Friendship,
Lieutenant General Issac Astor
97th Airborne Corps, Royal Army

Sarzo began to squeeze into the vehicle, which was a difficult task for him considering his weight but he managed to get in and take his seat. He began reviewing the plans from General Astor. He picked up the communications device and set it to maximum enrcyption.

"I'm going to give them one hour to come out of the Gray House and surrender or we're going to have to shell the place," Sarzo said.

"But Mr. President," came the protest.

"No buts," Sarzo said. "They have already defiled our government too much as it is. If we have to reduce the Gray House to rubble, I'll just go to my cabin in Saugerties until we rebuild it again." Sarzo added an edge to the word again, making a subtle reference to the Cam III attack that destroyed the Gray House during the Sarzonian-Camian war.

Those fuckers won't stomach all this artillery coming at them, Sarzo thought. He knew Wilson and he knew that Wilson was not one to engender great loyalty among those who worked under him. They only worked for him because they feared him and they had to, and that fact was going to bite him in the tush.

Sarzo received a text message from Pacitalian SAFD Commander Olivetti.

"Wilson captured and in our custody," the message read.

"Wilson's captured," Sarzo said. "We'll use that to our advantage when we issue our threat."

"Yes, sir."

Hopefully, all I'll have to do is *threaten* them," Sarzo thought. He decided he would bet on an assumption that the rebels would quickly crumble once they found out their leader was in Pacitalian custody.

When Sarzo arrived in front of the Gray House, he grabbed his communications device and set it to a frequency he knew would be picked up since the rebels used the same communications channels as the Sarzonian loyalists did.

"Attention 'Task Force' members. This is President Mike Sarzo. The real President of Sarzonia. I am giving you one hour to surrender to our forces or we will shell your position until you aren't able to come out alive. And another thing," Sarzo added with a sneer, "your illustrious leader Terrence Wilson is now in Pacitalian custody and will be dealt with personally. The choice is yours. Choose wisely."

[OOC: probably can remove the "blockade" on the PIW now. Here's $500 billion for your troubles. :)]

General Astor came over the radio, "Mr. President, we have 100 and 155 mm artillery pieces at your disposal as well as two dozen fighter-bombers overhead. Just give the order and we will be set."

An additional battalion, the 8041st, was repositioning itself from the outskirts of Woodstock to join the 2013th seige of the presidential residence. Lieutenant General Astor's staff had at the same time begun to set up a temporary Forward Command Center in the secure area surrounding the Grey House. Once the blast shields were installed, both the General and President Sarzo could command the present situation and coordinate with the other forces in the region in a less confining area than a Portland tank.



[OOC: I'll also assume the naval battles are done.

HNS Hispanola- Coral Sea Class BBLGN. Sunk. Loss of all hands.
HNS Dominica- Coral Sea Class BBLGN. Sinking/Total Loss.
HNS Williams, Greeley, Ashton- Newport Class DDGNs. Sunk/Total Loss.
HNS Richmond- Merciless Class CAAN. Disabled.
HNS Fortitude- Gettysburg Class BBGN. Near Loss, immediate drydocking required.
HNS Shilo- Twain Class BB. Disabled.
HNS Thomas Paine- Patrick Henry Class BBCN. Six torpedo hits, moderate internal damage. Flight deck severely damaged.

So it comes to five ships destroyed, one ship requiring immediate repair, two ships disabled, and the flagship was pounded up fairly well. Is that alright?]

[OOC: Considering the limited naval forces I sent out against your fleets, I'd say that was pretty decent. I'll take it.]

Sarzo pondered the situation. Twenty minutes remained in his deadline he gave the rebel forces in the Gray House. In another hour, the Gray House could be levelled a second time in a wartime situation. This time, it would be at the hands of Hamptonian shells, but not in the way some more extreme wags might have expected it.

He looked at the latest intelligence reports coming in. Wilson and his five top aides were all in Pacitalian hands and Sarzo had already called "dibs" on dispensing justice personally. Army units from Hamptonshire and Isselmere-Nieland were picking apart the resistance from the rebel forces and Parliament Hall was decimated. Again.

Sarzo realized that his order could easily force him to stay at the small cabin in Saugerties that was the Sarzonian equivalent of Camp David. The psychological toll on his own people could be enormous. Rebuilding the great symbols of Sarzonia twice was almost too much for lesser countries to bear, but Sarzo knew he might have to make a sacrifice to save his country from far greater damage.

Ten minutes remained in the deadline.

"Begin the approach," Sarzo said. "As soon as I count down to zero, open fire." Sarzo decided to give one final warning before he gave the order, so he got on his communications device and set the frequency to one that he knew the rebels in the Gray House would hear.

"You now have sixty seconds. If you don't surrender by the time I count to zero, you will surely die. Surrender now and end this lunacy." No response.

Thirty seconds. Sarzo checked his watch and watched the seconds tick away.

Fifteen seconds. Sarzo decided to give a verbal countdown.

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

The last second seemed to hang in time a little bit longer than the rest. In that short measure of time, the thoughts of the destruction of the Gray House -- Sarzo's home -- flashed in his mind. He knew he'd be inconvenienced for a while until the place was rebuilt. He knew Parliament would have to convene in temporary quarters. He knew he'd have to rebuild the nation's psyche, along with his own.

"Zero. All units, open fi---"

"We surrender," came the response from the radio. The rebels knew from Sarzo's command that he would have levelled the place if he had to. Without realizing it, Sarzo impressed the rebel factions by being willing to tear his own home apart to bring his country back together under its rightful leader."

"Hold your fire," the rebel voice said. One by one, the rebels slinked out of the Gray House unarmed and with their hands in the air. A group of Pacitalian forces came out with the five top aides, while Olivetti and his top lieutenant walked out with Wilson. Sarzo stepped out, drawing a gun.

"Well, Wilson, what do you have to say for yourself," Sarzo asked theatrically. The defeated former dictator could only grunt in response. Sarzo took a deep breath and cocked his gun, then pointed it at Wilson's head, making sure that Olivetti and his top aide got out of the way.

"I'm going to do to you what you were about to do to the rights and freedoms of our country," Sarzo said. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your brains in." Wilson's face contorted with rage, then he said the one word that sealed his fate. "Faggot!"

Sarzo didn't open any dialogues with his former employee. He didn't lecture him. He didn't give any more speeches about that word not being in his vocabulary.

"You had your chance Terry," was all he would say. He pulled the trigger. In just under one second, a man who had created more resentment than many government officials engender in a lifetime and whose diabolical plot threw Sarzonia into a cataclysmic period of uncertainty came to an ignominous end as his limp body dropped quickly to the ground.

With a scowl at least as menacing as any Wilson had dispensed to his staff, Sarzo slowly lowered the still smoking revolver to his side.

Lieut. General Astor ran to Sarzo's side. "Mr. President, please give me your gun. The controversy of Sarzonia's President summarily executing even a man such as Terry could destablize the situation."

Without much though, General Astor pulled out his sidearm and shot Wilson in the chest. "There...if there is an inquiry- I shot him. No one here will say different." He turned to face President Sarzo, "Hamptonians did come to Woodstock, fight, and die to have you removed from office, Mike."


[OOC: How's that!]

[OOC: Works for me!]

"Very well General," Sarzo said. He turned to a Hamptonian aide.

"Have we got most of the rebels in custody?"

"Looks like it," he replied. The Restore Sarzonia Task Force could very well remain alive, but its power as a coup operating force had just been dealt a fatal blow. Even if it stayed around, it would have to resort to minor terrorist attacks along the order of blowing up buses and killing handfuls of people when compared to the severe damage they could have done otherwise.

Wilson's second in command stepped forward, flanked by the two men who had been shadowing Wilson himself.

"I suppose as the next in line to Wilson, it's my job to make the surrender official," she said. "We surrender."

"How many of your people are we still fighting," Sarzo asked.

"Nine hundred are in Woodstock. We've got smaller cells in other parts of the country that will mobilize."

"Where are they?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out."

"Take her away," Sarzo ordered. "But not before she signals to all her cronies that this civil war is over."

Sarzo grabbed his communications device and opened the channel.

"All units, stand down. We have surrendered. Stand down." She looked at Sarzo. "That's whatever's left of the 900 units that were fighting Hamptonian and Isselmerian forces. But you won't catch the rest of the RSTF so easily," she sneered.

The Pacitalian guards roughly led her away from the scene. Sarzo took a deep sigh and saw a microphone in front of him and television cameras start to appear. Within moments, a live feed was broadcast throughout the interested world.

"Today, the forces of freedom have won their battle against those who would have stripped away the very fiber of our being," Sarzo said. "As the rightful leader, I can now officially say that I have now resumed my office as President of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia.

"Parliament will convene first thing Monday morning at the David Crosby Convention Center until Parliament Hall is rebuilt. With this current crisis now abated, the Constitution will be fully restored. Freedom can now ring once again in the hills of Sarzonia!"

Almost on cue, a passer by with a boom box turned on his CD player and the Sarzonian national anthem, a song titled "Freedom," began to play.

[OOC: Nice job RPing everybody! I thought everyone did a great job getting this story told. Thanks! :)]

Olivetti took a couple of seconds to regain his composure after watching President Sarzo shoot his enemy without any self-doubt. Suddenly, Olivetti had sudden admiration for Sarzo. His courage, his skill with negotiating and his determination pretty much put him in good company with Olivetti's men. Olivetti smiled and walked forward.

"And I thought you were just going to punch him," Olivetti said, jokingly. He patted Sarzo on the back. "Well done, sir."

Sarzo smiled back, but he, despite killing an evil man, still had the look of sorrow and sadness that comes from taking someone else's life. Olivetti understood why the President of Sarzonia turned away and walked back to his people almost 20 metres away. Both men knew it was the better decision to kill Wilson rather than give him a chance to redundantly explain himself at a tribunal.

Olivetti turned back to his men and whistled, circling his finger in the air. The men promptly started to jog back to their temporary base point three blocks away. However, a few remained behind.

He turned on his radio. "Strike Teams 16 to 40, move to Code Green - searching stage. Looking for bogeys and enemies. Lieutenants of teams, I want continuous updates, especially if you've found someone. Use Caliphate Formation when returning captures. Strike Teams 1 to 4 and 11 to 15, return to base."

Promptly, 34 ST captains returned their messages of understanding.

He continued on the radio. "Medic Team, meet me at Gray House front doors immediately."

Within forty seconds, almost one hundred men carrying equipment approached Olivetti. The Medic Team captain acknowledged Olivetti with a salute and a customary "Sir!". The team set up tents, beds, monitors, medicine storages, refrigerators, countertops and anything else needed. Twenty of the one hundred men pulled off their fatigues and revealed doctor's coats and stethoscopes. The other eighty moved into the Gray House and the subsequent tunnel to the Parliament Hall with stretchers, searching for those who needed assistance.

Olivetti turned his radio to channel 20. The TFC picked up three blocks away.

"Yes, sir?" came the reply from a soldier.

"Connect me with the Prime Minister," Olivetti told him.

"One moment, sir." A series of beeps and clicks ensued.

Suddenly, there was a short rustle, like a phone being picked up. "Commander. Thank you for contacting me. What is the situation?" inquired the Prime Minister.

"Sir, Wilson and his cronies have been successfully apprehended. Sarzo was rescued and is standing beside me. Sir, I know you wanted to bring Wilson here for a tribunal, but Sarzo shot him when he came out of the Gray House."

"What?!" asked the PM, incredulous. "I don't care about the tribunal. Why did he shoot him, Commander?"

"He asked for personal justice, sir," replied Olivetti. "He did have command over us at the time, so we couldn't say otherwise. But I'm sure he feels better about doing this instead of letting Wilson live a little longer."

"True, very true," came the response from the Prime Minister. "Okay, anything else to tell me?"

"Strike Teams 16 to 40 are searching the area for other enemies, and the Medic Team is searching the area for casualties. We expect to pull out and head home soon."

"Right on, soldier. Congratulations on your successful mission."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'd like to speak to President Sarzo if he is around."

"Of course, sir. One moment."

Back in Timiocato, PM Ell gave the thumbs up to Agustinate of Defence Venizelos and SDPM Karagounis. Karagounis and Venizelos both whooped in celebration.

"Here he is, sir."

"Thank you." PM Ell said to Karagounis and Venizelos, "excuse me".

"Mike, how are you doing?"

General Astor avoided the cameras and the reporters. He was by nature a modest man who shyed away from the spotlight. He also felt nervous, he didn't regret what he had done but there was fear present in his psyche.

"Mr. President, with your permission the 33rd Royal Marine Expeditionary Unit [10,000 Royal Marines] would like to come ashore. They will begin to replace Airborne units within Woodstock itself. The 2nd Fleet also has several heavily damaged vessels that require immediate drydocking.

If it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to know what your plans are for the Hamptonian forces currently in Sarzonia. We can provide security for a few weeks, but the Joint High Command needs to be informed of the future of our endeavours here."


[OOC: Thanks Sarzonia for a top notch effort and organization. This RP is a joy.

Pacitalia- Your characters should play along with what happened. Sarzo didn't shoot Terry, General Astor did ;)]

[OOC: Mike, you can RP our conversation happening after you finish with your broadcast, I guess. I started before you, just that I had to get off the Internet for a while. ;) ]

(OOC: Sarzonia, I'm terribly sorry I missed out. :( I've been having computer problems this past week.)

[ OOC: Yeah, RB, I was wondering a) what happened to you and b) why you didn't come into the RP after you said you would in the AAC topic. ;) ]

Sarzo breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Well, all things considered, I'd say pretty good." He thought the joke might render a chuckle out of Ell, but not waiting for the reaction, he continued.

"Parliament Hall is in ruins and I nearly destroyed the Gray House to get rid of these pests, but other than that I'm fine. Excuse me for a second."

Sarzo turned to Astor.

"Yes, the marines can land. I would like to have the Isselmerian-Nielander army serve as peacekeepers until we can get things settled here. Before you leave, though, I'd like to confer Colonel Vincent with the Sarzonian Medal of Valour in honor of all the Hamptonian forces who risked their lives for our freedom."

Sarzo called Lewis on his own cell phone.

"Nicole, I'm back."

"Yay!"

"Guess it's time to pack your bags and go back home."

"Who you kiddin'?"

Both Lewis and Sarzo laughed. Now they could afford to.

"Well, all in the name of democracy, right, Mike?" the PM chuckled. "If you want assistance with rebuilding Parliament, don't hesitate to ask." He heard President Sarzo ask for a second and he replied, "Sure."

"There is one other thing to tell you, but it can wait, if need be..." the PM said after a couple of seconds. He waited for the click to start Mike's reply.

Sarzo could sense it was something that needed privacy, so he excused himself for a moment and walked under one of the columns at the Gray House.

"Yes, what is it?"

Sarzo waited for Ell's reply.

"Well, I have been talking with my Agustinates, and we unanimously agree that you and Nicole deserve some sort of recognition for what you have done these past few days," Ell said. "Possibly the Capostication. What do you think?" Ell smiled.

Sarzo breathed in sharply. The Capostication was the highest honour in Pacitalia, probably even the world. It had only been awarded to twenty-one people in over half a millenium.

"Wow, that's... an incredible honour," Sarzo responded. "Nicole and I would be delighted."

Sarzo stared blankly out toward the street, his eyes widened with surprise. The events of the past few days were overwhelming him and he needed time away, but he wouldn't miss the Capostication for the world.

"Thank you so much," was all Sarzo could say afterward.

"Don't mention it, Mike. Your and Nicole's courage and determination during this difficult time was an inspiration to Pacitalians," Ell replied. "All of us were behind you."

He sensed a little overwhelmed surprise on the part of the President, and quickly added.

"But we can postpone the ceremony for a week or two and give you time to recover. Both rest and the award are deserved," Ell laughed. "Plus, I'm sure Nicole's just getting used to not having to stumble through Pacitalian, so she'll love the break. Anyway, feel free to give me a call when you want to set a date for the ceremony. Goodbye, Mike. Stay safe."

He was about to break the connection but remembered one more thing.

"Sorry, I was going to ask about the tribunal, now that Wilson is no longer with us. The invitation is still open if you want to prosecute others involved. See you later, Mike."

He broke the connection.

Ambassador McCarthy arrived at the Grey House in one of the Embassy's black SUVs. It was identical to the one used to rescue Sarzo from the sewer...minus the stench of raw sewage.

"Mr. President!" he called out, "I've just got off the phone with the Grand Duke. He extends his congratulations to you and the entire Sarzonian nation. I informed him of your plans to confer upon Colonel Vincent the Sarzonian Medal of Valour. His Royal Highness would like to, and this is only if it would not harm the rebuilding process, come to Woodstock and in a joint ceremony issue the Hamptonian Medal of Valor to Colonel Vincent.

His Royal Highness would like to repair whatever past damage there may have been in Sarzonian-Hamptonian Relations." McCarthy then leaned in close to Sarzo, "It would just be the Grand Duke and Princess Patricia Anne, no politicans. To be blunt, the Grand Duke is under a lot of pressure from the Royal Senate because of his decision to act in here. He would appreciate it if he could come to Woodstock to remind the isolationists that there is a world out there.

The Grand Duke even has a special suprise for you, Mike. You'll get it no matter what you decide, but he'd like to give it to you in person."


The damaged vessels of the 2nd Fleet and the Royal Marines of the MEU reached land. It would be at least three weeks before the last of the Airborne and Marine units would leave Sarzonia. Invading and landing can be done in hours, leaving is a delicate and lengthy process.


[OOC:
Total Casualties:
Royal Navy: 3,800
Royal Army/Royal Air Force: 115
Royal Police: 2]

Lieutenant General Peter Treadwell of II Corps, Isselmere-Nielander Army (INA), received word from President Sarzo and the UKIN Ministry of Defence to perform policing duties in and around Nicksia taking over for the 5th Marine Expeditionary Force. Bulldog tanks and Badger IFVs offloaded from the Gabin-class vehicle transports as Harriers flew armed reconnaissance missions for any stragglers from the Wilson’s coup.

After ensuring the landing of his force, Treadwell rang Nicksia’s mayor and the chief administrator of Benetar State to inform them of the INA’s presence and duties. Placards were erected and leaflets dropped or otherwise distributed to placate the citizenry regarding the INA’s intentions.



Citizens of Sarzonia!

DEAR FRIENDS, by the authority vested in the true President of Sarzonia, Mike SARZO, the Isselmere-Nielander Army (INA) will serve temporarily as a police service within Benetar State and other regions as required by the Sarzonian executive. The soldiers of the INA serve under the joint direction of LGEN Peter TREADWELL and President SARZO and will be engaged in street patrols and other duties as the Sarzonian executive deems fit. INA soldiers will conform with Sarzonian law and will, as always, be subject to the King’s Rules and Regulations. Any Sarzonian citizen caught performing an illegal act by the INA will be immediately transferred to Sarzonian jurisdiction.

Rejoice in the return of your legitimate government!

Yours truly,

LGen Peter Treadwell (INA)
GOC, Isselmere-Nielander Land Force (INLF)

Officers told the soldiers not to let their guard down, even though they would be patrolling in berets instead of their sturdy armoured helmets. The Badgers were held in reserve as the Army dispossessed the Marines of their Vixen wheeled IFVs, but the soldiers still donned the rest of their body armour. The Isselmere-Nielanders also sported black armbands in commemoration of their dead. Stern lectures delivered by colonels down to sergeants reinforced the order to behave with perfect courtesy towards the Sarzonian citizenry. No trouble was expected, but then no one in the UKIN had expected a coup against President Sarzo.

As the commandeered Vixens tore through the city roads receiving updates from Rook drones sent aloft to reconnoitre their routes and possible attack angles and the battalion HQ set up shop outside the city limits, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Almsbridge took the liberty of marching 'A' Company of the 2nd Royal Loundismund Rifles (29th Infantry) through Nicksia. Almsbridge marched at the head followed by the company commander, Major Geoffrey Chalmers, and three standard bearers with the flags of the UKIN, of Sarzonia, and of the Regiment. Behind these men came the company, arms shouldered marching perfectly as if on the drill square passed the bemused locals.

A short distance ahead, Almsbridge noted a small park in the midst of which the Sarzonian flag flew. “Company!” LCol Almsbridge bellowed, “Eyes right!” All heads snapped brusquely to the right as officers’ arms crisply rose in salute. Whatever else might come of this short civil war, the citizens of Nicksia will at least see some disciplined soldiery, he thought.

"We're in deep shit, Sir."

In the labyrinth of cramped corridors that formed the sewer system of Woodstock, Colonel Yussuf could see the humor in the sudden statement made by Major Bin Said and chuckled.

"Heck, yeah, we proudly lived up to our country's motto. Now lead the way, Major. Take us to the Gray House, we're surrendering."

He shrugged, morale had now hit rock bottom, he was sure of that.

Their batteries had started to run out of power and it had proven impossible to contact nearby Al Sabirian forces in the theatre to request a covert extraction from Sarzonia, so Colonel Yussuf had just decided they were to surrender. He clicked his visor open, an acrid scent of sewer gasses coming up to him. He quickly snapped it down again, mumbling a few curses.

"All right, move it."

Right over their heads was a small manhole, which they ascended, to end up at a small square south of the Gray House. People on the streets were shocked, as they suddenly saw men in full battle gear arise from underneath the road, not even appearing human with the darkened visors that covered their scarred, fatigued faces.

They trotted right over the broad boulevards, but two streets prior to the Gray House, they ran into a Hamptonian patrol. Dropping their weapons, they put their hands right against the back of their heads and awaited judgement.

"Tell His Royal Highness that he is welcome to come to Woodstock to perform the ceremony. We will have to have the ceremony at the John Paul Stevens building [OOC: Where the Supreme Judicial Court holds sessions] instead of our customary location of Parliament Hall, but we would be amenable to it.

"And he and Princess Anne are also welcome to begin the process of repairing Hampto-Sarzonian relations. I agree that the process should just be between the Grand Duke and Princess Anne and me and Mr. Tyler, and that the politicans need not get involved. Our House of Delegates would have to ratify any formal treaties if one is forthcoming, but I believe I can convince the House of its importance.

"I am interested to find out the surprise the Grand Duke has in store. I look forward to his visit."

(OOC: Sorry again for missing out. Would you be interested in RPing together later today, Sarzonia?)

"His Royal Highness will be delighted this news. If any formal agreements are proposed, there is a relatively tight time frame for an easy ratification. The NURP controlled Royal Senate is in the middle of a two month recess. During that time the Privy Council and Grand Duke can sign and ratify treaties without any special declarations.

"We also have another...situation. The Justice Ministry's Military Investigations Buearu [OOC: Yes, I know it's the MIB] would like to come to Sarzonia to investigate any possible illegal actions committed by Hamptonians. They also intend to investigate the death of Mr. Wilson."

"Tell the MIB they're welcome to come and investigate any situations they believe may have occurred to find out if they violated any Hamptonian laws," Sarzo said.

Sarzo then returned his attention to Ell.

"I believe that the second in command of the RSTF should stand for the tribunal," he said. "She was, after all, an accomplice to the misdeeds of Mr. Wilson."

Prime Minister Ell called his secretary and Vasiliou Bandanaris into his office.

"I need you two to prepare Capostications for two people," he said.

They both gasped. "Two... people?"

"Yes."

"Who is receiving such an honour, sir?"

"President Mike Sarzo and Senior Vice President of Internal Affairs Nicole Lewis, of the nation of Sarzonia."

"That's excellent! I'll get on that right away!"

"Yes, we will. We'll report back soon, sir."

"Thanks. You may go."

He called Agustinate of Law, Order & Justice Roberto Pasticci into the office.

"Roberto, President Sarzo has requested a tribunal for the second-in-command of the Restore Sarzonia Task Force. She is Wilson's wife. Can you get that arranged for me as quickly as possible?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Thank you."

Pasticci left and Ell turned back to his window overlooking a sweeping expanse, framed by the Rio Timiocato. He could finally relax.

OOC: I'm not trying to interrupt anything, but there are still 32 commandos in the streets of Woodstock, surrendering to a Hamptonian Army patrol.

[OOC: Sorry about that. I thought other folks would have noticed. Anyway, I'll have them explain their presence in Sarzonia.]

"Oh, another thing," Astor said as he saw Sarzo get ready to walk into the Gray House.

"What is it," Sarzo asked, irritated. He wanted to take a shower and go to sleep desperately. He felt he earned it.

"I just received reports that 32 Al Sabir operatives have surrendered to Hamptonian forces."

"Al Sabir? What are they doing here?" Sarzo sighed. "Send them to the Gray House. I'll have a few words with their leader about his presence in Woodstock."

"Aye, sir."

Sarzo's head slowly inched back until it tapped the wall. He moved both hands over his face and muttered, shiiiiit. He racked his brain trying to figure out how Al Sabir forces managed to infiltrate Woodstock. He remembered Lewis telling him that Al Sabir offered to help rescue him and bring Wilson to justice, but he thought Lewis told them no.

He called Lewis and left a message for her to call him back while he waited for the operatives to arrive under Hamptonian guard.

Under the threat of Hamptonian firearms, the Al Sabirians proudly marched on, their backs erected, their shoulders straight and stiff. Only First Sergeant Mohammed Abbar had wrapped his arms around the necks of two comrades, limping between them. Their matte visors did not reveal any emotions, or any human contours at all, but most faces were lined with frowns and a grim expression. As they passed through the first fence of the barrier surrounding the Gray House, the platoon halted as one man and Colonel Yussuf stepped forward, removing his helmet and unzipping the top protective layer of his battle armour, revealing a standard olive drab BDU and a cap. The penetrating odour that he carried around all the time disappeared magically and he stepped forward, unclipping the holster attached to his thighbone, hiding a .45 ACP M1911 Colt with an inlaid ivory butt, a family heirloom, to show that he was no longer any threat.

Casualty Report from UKIN Ministry of Defence
Deaths: 12,347
Severe Wounds (requiring pensioning off): 3,461
Wounded: 2,890

----

Parliament ordered the establishment of a Royal Commission of Inquiry to investigate the Isselmere-Nielander actions in the recent Sarzonian coup. Of particular interest will be accusations from the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) against Vice Admiral Cunningham's gross mismanagement of the Sarzonian Expeditionary Armada. They have also called for an investigation into the RSIN, stating that the loss of four Bastion-class battleships indicates 'severe if not catastrophic deficiencies in the design.' The Labour Party has raised concerns regarding the treatment of wounded and the toxicity of materials used in the construction of vessels for the RINN that may have contributed to further deaths.

The Prime Minister was unavailable for comment. The experience with the coup has shattered party unity and, if recent public appearances are any indication, Mr Yardmouth's political career. With the Conservative Party Conference coming up, it is quite probable Isselmere-Nieland may witness the creation of a new party, or at least the downfall of the present government.

This has been Sarah Plehvin for INBC 1 News

----

Action Report, INLF Security Zone
Nothing new. Patrols in hinterland have come across no rebel positions or personnel yet.

Pacitalian SAFD Casualties Report

Injured: 25
Dead: 1
Total: 26

Overall, a successful mission, but we regret the death of the one soldier.

"Colonel Yussuf, please step inside," Sarzo said. He looked at the Hamptonian guards and said, "keep an eye on the rest of them. I don't want anything to happen to our 'guests' while they're in here."

Sarzo sat down at his desk while Colonel Yussuf stood there. He motioned for Yussuf to sit down. He did so.

"All right Colonel, Senior Vice President Lewis tells me she denied your group's entry into Sarzonia, is that correct?"

"Correct. President Sharif has authorized me to detail every aspect of our stay in Sarzonia to you, as well a motive for such a controversial operation."

Colonel Yussuf took a deep breath and centered his probing gaze at Sarzo.

"Two short days ago, a small Atlas transport slipped through the Sarzonian air defense grid, assisted by the power breakdown of this area's main power plant. We were dropped off at a soccer field in downtown Woodstock and easily proceeded through the city under the cover of darkness. When we searched through Hoover prison and found it raided, we prioritized our hunt for Wilson. Staff Sergeant Jamie Cobb and his brave fire team infiltrated Woodstcok International and detained a senior Sarzonian Air Force officer we believe responsible for preparing Wilson's getaway. They stowed him in a locker, gagged and cuffed, but I suspect ground personnel will already have found him by now.

"Anyway, we decided to take shelter in the sewers when the Hamptonians jumped over Woodstock and when our communications gear failed and our batteries were running low, I decided to surrender."

Yussuf sighed, he wasn't used to consolidate on classified information with the "enemy" without being tortured first, so this was kinda hard for him.

"Anyway, President Sharif decided over this operation and gave it the green light. He doesn't trust the capabilities of Sarzonian armed forces in any other skill than naval warfare. He reckoned they would easily screw up and get you killed. He opinioned that Ms. Lewis had succumbed to the pressure and wasn't able to think and act clearly. As a distant, unbiased observer, President Sharif feared the situation would escalate and as a true friend, he had to protect his ally, even from itself, for Sarzonia's own good. Thirty two Deltas, myself included, volunteered, some young greenhorns eager to prove themselves, others, as myself, more experienced and hoping on a easy promotion and a medal after this mission."

Sarzo sighed. "Oh, I see. So risking an international incident with another country that has been an ally of yours is more important to you than respecting the wishes of the acting president, is that correct?"

"Correct."

Sarzo stood up and walked to a place where he could start pacing in front of the colonel. In a measured tone, he said, "I don't think anyone considered Terry Wilson the legitimate leader of Sarzonia, but you should have respected the wishes of the person who has been recognized as the legitimate leader in my absence."

Colonel Yussuf lounged back in his chair and ignored the rest of Sarzo's rant. It wasn't really a concern of his anymore. After all, President Sharif carried the responsibility for the whole operation and would be the one having his hands full with this Sarzo, he thought.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I inform your government that we plan to address the issue with them and have you and your men spend a few nights under the watchful eye of Sarzonian authorities while we sort things out."

Secret IC

To: President Mike Sarzo
From: Barry Paneful
http://www.geocities.com/mr_whud/_264094_savim300.jpg

We have never met, but I believe you may be interested in my services. I am Barry Paneful, founder and president of Roach-Busters Extermination Squad for Hire, a company that offers the services of an elite squadron of hitmen and guerrillas who specialize in assassinations, kidnappings, and guerrilla warfare to the highest bidder. We are in no way affiliated with Generalissimo J.L. or the RB government. However, because I am a patriotic man- and you are a great friend of J.L.- I am willing to offer my services for a very, very reasonable fee. Would you be interested in hiring my men to 'pick off' Terry Wilson? That way, no blame would be placed on your government, and it would not tarnish your international prestige in any way. If you are interested, please fill out an application here: http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=381509 Thank you very much, and good day.

bump

[OOC: Sarzonia, where is this RPing going? I don't know if it is just me, but this seems to be trailing off. I like this RP and it still has places to go, the timeframe just needs to jump ahead a wee bit.]

[OOC: Sarzonia, where is this RPing going? I don't know if it is just me, but this seems to be trailing off. I like this RP and it still has places to go, the timeframe just needs to jump ahead a wee bit.][OOC: Well, the biggest thrust of the RP was the coup and the subsequent capture/killing of Wilson. I've been trying to tie up a couple of loose ends related to that, but I can pick back up with some reconstruction posts.]

[OOC: Well, the biggest thrust of the RP was the coup and the subsequent capture/killing of Wilson. I've been trying to tie up a couple of loose ends related to that, but I can pick back up with some reconstruction posts.]

[OOC: You can also start up new threads. I've been thinking of starting a new thread for the MIB's investigation of what happened in Sarzonia. Sarzo also has several offers of rewards and meetings that should be addressed in their own threads.

I'm just kind of bouncing ideas around.]

[OOC: I'm posting a thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=381734) for the talks between your Grand Duke and my President. I'll look into other storylines later.]