NationStates Jolt Archive

Ashes to Ashes

Generic empire
05-12-2004, 05:31
“Cowards! Come out from your vile holes and face me like men! Or are you slime-washed dogs instead?!”

“Hear that! The son of the weaker one calls us cowards! If it was the same blood that coursed his father’s veins as courses his, then I can see why he didn’t last long! Do you recall his death?! Murdered on his own throne! Now the bastard brandishes the word coward!”

Laughter resounds from hidden sources.

“Octavius, fool! Come down here and do penance for your slandering of my father’s name!”

“Look at him now! Standing in broad daylight in the middle of the street! Have you inherited your father’s common sense as well? You wave that saber about like a fucking dancer! What do you say, boys? Let’s see him dance!”

Gunshots ring out in a wide street in a quiet town. The figure who calls from the street dives to the side as mountains of dust and concrete explode about his feet, products of the red dots that move quickly across the pavement, searching for a target.

“Look at the great man now! Running like a startled rabbit! What’s the matter, Varus? Afraid of a little sport?”

The figure who runs now crouches behind the corner of a building, hiding from the red dots. He breathes heavily, waiting. He is alone.

Several minutes pass.

“Afraid of death, Varus? Well then, if you won’t come to us, we’ll have to go get you. Alexander! Bring our friend up to us!

Footsteps fall heavily on a wooden staircase behind a closed door. A large, bearded man barrels out into the street. He bears a shotgun and a wild grin. The figure who hides stops breathing, but continues to wait. The large man calls in strange tongues as he slowly approaches the hiding place.

The large man draws closer. He stops suddenly and chuckles under his breath as his eyes catch sight of a quick flash, glinting metal. He begins to move forward again, his weapon raised. He rounds the corner to find the hiding man crouched, his back to him, praying, apparently. The large man laughs again as he reaches forward with a powerful hand to grab the man’s shoulder, and apprehend him.

The hiding man is in fact not praying, but instead huddling over a sharp, shining steel cross, a present from a day long gone. He feels the hand coming up behind him, and he strikes. The figure spins around to face the man, the cross flashing through the air, burying itself deep in the large man’s side. The large man’s expression is no longer one of suppressed amusement. Now his features contort into the mask of excruciating pain brought about by a steel object lodged in one’s kidney. The shotgun falls to the ground.

The man who kills draws the cross sharply out of the still breathing man, and turns the body, so that the eyes no longer stare into his. The large man gasps for breath as his blood coats the hands of the man who now uses him as a shield to protect himself. The figure returns the cross to his pocket, and picks up the shotgun. He then moves out into the street.

“You can shoot at me to your heart’s content! You will hit nothing!”

“Wipe that smile from your face! He was always just a worthless sack of lard! I should thank you for taking the oaf off of my hands!”

“A worthless sack of lard, yes, but one who is quite adept at stopping bullets!”

The man who is made bold by his shield begins to move forward towards the building where the man who taunts him waits. Occasional shots are unleashed at the figure, landing with a meaty thud in the belly of the large man. The shield groans at the impact of the bullets, and breathes his last.

The man nears the building, and suddenly drops his shield, sprinting towards the open entrance, the door blown away by a stray grenade. The man enters the dark tenement building, and his eyes begin to adjust to the dim.

There is a staircase directly in front of him. He approaches it and begins to ascend. On the level above, the floor creaks. The man stops, and raises his weapon. He continues to ascend, slowly now. He reaches the top of the staircase, and takes a left. He moves slowly, with great caution. There are six doors on either side of the hallway, some open, some closed, some locked.

Then there comes a sound, a sound that stops the man’s heart. A metallic ‘tink’ as a small cylinder rolls out into the hall from an open door. The man stops, breathes, and dives to the right, through another door. The roar of the explosion deafens him. Another man appears in the doorway. The man fires a shotgun round into the other’s chest. The man who kills twice stands and returns to the hallway in time to catch a second man running into the hall. The man fires, and the second man’s legs are no longer one with his body.

The man will proceed to the end of the hall, whereupon he will open a door. When he enters the room on the other side of this door, he will set in motion a series of events that he cannot at this moment hope to percieve.

The man’s name is Quintus Varus Alexei, son of the late Tiberius Alexei. Tiberius Alexei held, for a short time, the esteemed position of Emperor of Generia. Tiberius lost his life in the same war that claimed the lives of his sister, brother, and father, the war that led to the rise of Antonius I, now sovereign lord of Generia. Varus, as he is commonly referred to, holds the rank of Captain in the Imperial Praetorian Guard. He is twenty-seven.

The man who taunts Quintus Varus Alexei is Octavius Marus, a rogue. This man also once held the rank of Captain in the Imperial Praetorian Guard. The number 796100 is tattooed on his left forearm.

The two have never met in person.

The city, or more appropriately town, is Garograd in the north of the Generian province of Buchiana.

Varus opens the door to meet the muzzle of a high caliber rifle pointed directly at his heart. Octavius is on the other end of this rifle. Two gunshots ensue; one is a distinct crack, the other a loud roar.

Fortunate Son

Three figures sat around a polished table in a darkened conference room. A screen on the wall displayed a photograph of a man’s face.

“He looks remarkably pleased with himself, for a corpse.”

“He would be pleased though, wouldn’t he? Bastard’s caused us a lot of trouble in the past few months.”

“True. I was afraid I would not live to see him punished.”

“Justice has always been kind to the Empire. Those who betray her are seldom able to avoid her wrathful hand.”

“Yes. A shame that her agent lost his life in the process, though.”

“A shame.”


Emperor Antonius stroked the stubble on his chin as he raised a glass to his lips. The sunlight bathed the long dining room, reflecting off of the silver platters that held the Emperor’s breakfast. A man stood beside the Emperor’s chair.

“Your grace, you will be pleased to learn that your nephew is alive.”

“Is he indeed?”

“Indeed, your grace. He now rests at a hospital in New Bucharest. Unfortunately, he is not conscious.”

“Well, I suppose fortune is not that generous, is she?”

“Apparently not, Lord.”

“Still, the service he has performed for the Empire is well worth any personal harm he may have sustained as a result.”

“Yes Lord. This he knows.”

“I am sure. And what of Octavius’s remains?”

Chancellor Rubellai fell temporarily silent.

“Your eminence, I fear not even you are aware of this…”

The Emperor broke from his dining and turned to face the Chancellor.

“He breathes also.”


“Yes Lord. His heart beats still, though we hold him in our custody.”

“Where is he?”


((OOC: Continued at another time.))
05-12-2004, 06:05
Very nice. :)

Generic empire
06-12-2004, 00:29
Varus was drifiting in and out of consciousness. Scenes and faces from times long past flashed before his eyes. He could see a blurred image of his father’s corpse floating through the streets of Generia City. A funeral procession. He had been there. Yes, he heard his mother wailing beside him, a hazy vision of her form kneeling beside the funeral pire.

This passed and faded into a different time, another place. Things were clearer now; the forms were not as hazy. He was in a room, no, a cage. A cell deep within the belly of the beast, the inferno for the Empire’s condemned. It was hot, sweltering. There was pain all around him, there had been pain all around him. Marks on his arms and legs; cuts, bruises, scars. One scar in particular. Not a scar at all. Ink. A tattoo. A number. 796590. A name. He could see his hand lifting an object, a blade, a jagged rock. The object dug into his flesh. The blood flowed from his arm, obscuring the number.

It was gone, and his visions faded to black.


Two men in black uniforms approached the reception desk at the New Bucharest Imperial Military Hospital, their eyes obscured by dark sunglasses. The first man put his hands on the desk and cleared his throat loudly, calling the attention of the nurse. She looked up at the men, rather startled by their sudden appearance.


The first man spoke.

“GIIS. We’re here to see a certain Captain Varus Alexei. He was brought in last week.”

“Yes, I remember him. It’s a miracle that man is alive. Not many survive that kind of wound. Although, I am afraid he won’t be taking any visitors anytime soon.”

The first man gave the woman a cold look.

“I am sure we can work something out.”

The nurse looked around nervously.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind a short visit. Just go down the hall. Room 103.”

The man nodded, and the two went off down the hall. They entered the room to find a heavily bandaged soldier lying on a bed. The first man approached the wounded man.

“Captain Varus.”

The wounded man sat up groggily. He looked at the man in the uniform, and managed a weak salute.


“Jonathan Cac. GIIS head of special operations. How are you feeling?”

“Fine I suppose, sir. A bit drowsy.”

“That is to be expected. I need to ask you a few questions about the events that brought you here five days ago.”

“Has it been that long?”

“I am afraid so. Now, can you recall what exactly happened in Garograd?”

“Not rightly, sir. I remember I was on an assignment for General Markov to clean out some rebels up north. We headed up there, and swept out a few farming villages to the west, and then we turned back. As we got close to Garograd, we got a call to go check out some activity in the outskirts of the town, so we broke off and headed that way. We hit the outskirts of the town, and next thing I know somebody’s shooting at us. It was like some kind of ambush.”

“Do you remember any details?”

“Well, they smoked our APCs, so we piled out and ended up getting pinned down. They took out most of our squad, except for me and a few others. We managed to get out of there and head into the town. After that it gets blurry.”

“That will do. You performed a great service for the Empire, Captain. This will not go overlooked.”

“Thank you sir.”

The men turned and headed for the door.

“Get some rest Captain. We might have more to discuss later.”

The two men paused once they had left the room.

“Do you think he remembers Octavius?”

“I doubt it. They pumped him so full of drugs I’m amazed he remembers his own name.”

“I suppose it’s all for the better. If I had the chance to forget it all, I’d take it.”

“We all would.”

The men walked down the hall, nodded to the nurse at the reception desk, and left the building.
Proud Warriors
06-12-2004, 00:40
Wow... Nice.
06-12-2004, 00:41
tag, kind of ironic, as Varus was the Roman general who had his three legions completely annihilated by the Germans
06-12-2004, 00:45
OOC: Aye, Teutoberg forest. They put a statue up to that, y'know. I think it's still there, but I dunno.
06-12-2004, 00:52
OOC:Yeah, it's still there.
06-12-2004, 00:59
The Horned Rat
06-12-2004, 01:04
wonderful writing, is he ulrich by any chance?
(Overtly disguised TAG)
06-12-2004, 01:09
OOC:Can't be Ulrich, as his head is my Emperor's favorite mantle piece;)
Generic empire
06-12-2004, 01:10
OOC:Can't be Ulrich, as his head is my Emperor's favorite mantle piece;)

((OOC: I would hope so. You went through alot of trouble to get it.))
The Horned Rat
06-12-2004, 01:12
OOC:Can't be Ulrich, as his head is my Emperor's favorite mantle piece;)

:D , I forgot that...
Borman Empire
06-12-2004, 01:32
Generic empire
14-12-2004, 01:08
gonna bump this to keep it alive until I have time to post.
Borman Empire
15-12-2004, 00:51
Generic empire
23-12-2004, 21:56
“The results are astounding, General. His recovery was faster than anything I have ever seen.”

“Those injuries would have sent anyone else to the morgue.”

“A true testament to the progress we have made on the project.”

“Indeed. Your dedication to the project does not go unnoticed, doctor. I hear that the Emperor himself has taken the time to review your briefings.”

“I am honored, General. However, I wish I could say the same about the success of subject 17. It would seem as if our modifications were either completely incompatible with his genetic data or the technology required further testing. Of course, after the setback we are working around the clock to find and fix the problem. Still, it is somewhat disheartening to see so promising a subject turn out like that. Not to mention the damages done to the Empire through his actions.”

“Yes, quite. Still he provided an interesting opportunity to test the performance of subject twenty-nine, and without that, we would have had no idea at all of the capabilities of modified subjects, only of the potential failures. Do not worry yourself, doctor. The Empire sees much to favor in your efforts, despite any minor setbacks. If we could only manage half of the successes we are having at the moment, the Empire would still be pleased.”

“Again, sir, I thank you for your understanding.”

“My pleasure, doctor. With your help, we shall all someday bask in more power than we could have ever imagined.”


Part Two: Conspiracy Theories

Captain Varus Alexei walked through the gleaming white lobby of the GIIS headquarters building in Generia City. His footsteps echoed loudly as he approached the lone reception desk sitting in the center of the enormous, high cielinged hall. The security guard looked up from his computer as the tall soldier stopped in front of his desk.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment with Mr. Cac.”

“Ah yes. He’s expecting you. The elevator right ahead of you should take you straight to the top.”


Varus walked towards the polished steel doors which opened automatically as he approached. He stepped inside. Oddly enough, there were no buttons anywhere in the small elevator, and with some hidden command, the doors closed quickly and it began to ascend.

While he waited, Varus idly moved his hand to the side of his face, running his fingers over the shallow scar that ran jaggedly along beside his right eye, strangely the only reminder of the near fatal wounds he had received not a week earlier. He could have sworn the scar had been deeper just yesterday.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out into a short, brightly lit hallway. A soldier appeared on his right.

“Right this way sir.”

Varus followed the man down the hallway to a set of large double doors. The soldier activated the intercom on the side of the doors, and the speaker crackled to life.

“He’s here.”

“Good. Send him in.”

The doors opened, and Varus stepped into a large office. His eyes wandered over the room, the walls decorated with strange trophies, awards, and medals.

“Captain, good to see you fully recovered. Hell, it’s good to see you alive for that matter. Come on and have a seat.”

A grey haired man was sitting at the far end of the room, at a desk before a large window overlooking the city below. He reclined in a high backed leather chair with his feet up on the desk. Varus walked over, and sat down in a second leather chair in front of the desk. The man placed a fat cigar in his mouth and raised a polished lighter to the tip.


“No, thank you, sir.”

“Your loss. I’ll do my best to keep it to the point. You’re obviously curious about why you’re here. Well, I told you we’d have more to discuss later, and now is later. I’m not sure you recognize the extent of the effect of your actions in Garograd. The man you killed was named Octavius Marus. He was a rebel with loose connections to several anti-government organizations, including the BLA. When you found him in Garograd, he was getting ready to meet with several of the BLA higher ups to negotiate a major arms trade. Luckily, you put a stop to that.”

Cac swung his feet down off of the desk, and removed the cigar from his mouth.

“But this guy wasn’t just a two bit arms dealer, as anyone not in the know would tell you. No, no. See, he used to work for us.”

“He was with GIIS?”

“Loosely. He ran as our guard dog for awhile, before he cracked and went rogue. He had access to a lot of very sensitive stuff, so you can see our reason for wanting this guy out of the picture. What they won’t tell you though, is that this guy could have very well become one of the most dangerous terrorists we’ve seen in a while. His GIIS involvement gave this guy access to a shitload of equipment and information that your run of the mill revolutionary wouldn’t even dream of getting his hands on. Worse, he wasn’t afraid to use it. If you want statistics, twenty-two of the thirty attacks in Buchiana alone are all credit of Mr. Marus.”


“You’re damn right. Like I said, this guy was bad news. And after four years, you ended up being the man to put a bullet in his head.”

The man picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. He raised it, nodded his head in Varus’s direction, and drained it.

“So let’s get down to business. What you did tells us that we’ve got ourselves a damn capable soldier, one that we can’t afford to lose down in the trenches. That’s why we’re pulling you out and moving you up here.”

“Sir? You mean, Intelligence department?”

“Close. We want to bring you up to GIIS SO, extra-sensitive operations. Don’t worry, we’ll tell you everything you need to know to get you out in the field. I think you can do a hell of a job here. It’s as good as a first class ticket to the big time, Imperial high command. You up for it?”

“By all means, sir.”

“Good. Then you start now. We’ll handle moving your personal effects into GIIS housing, so don’t worry about that. Get down to level 8. They’ll handle transfer procedures, and set you up to begin instruction tomorrow. Welcome to the club, kid.”

Varus stood, and offered a salute before walking out of the office. The man leaned back and put his feet back up on the desk. A telephone began to ring, and he picked up the receiver.

“You handled it?”

“Yeah. I fed the kid the sham story just like you said.”


“He ate it out of the palm of my hand. He has no idea.”

“Excellent. Remember Cac, we can’t afford to have the project compromised.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about a thing.”