NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: I’ve already talked to Xeraph about this

March 19th would be a day of death, Roger Durling knew. He had gone over plan numerous times with the two teams, which he called Team A and Team B, and it was simple, really. Get in, take the aircraft, and cause as much trouble as possible. Instill fear in the hearts of the enemy. Make them see things our way. So sad, Roger thought, that such talent must be wasted in such a way. Oh well, at least they are the youngest ones and the least experienced.

The two teams had five men each, each man armed with a pistol made from composite materials, so as to avoid detection by metal detector at the airports. These pistols were then hidden in their carry-on bags in such a way that anyone looking inside their bag would not immediately notice on a casual inspection. However, that did not stop a detailed inspection from finding the guns, as happened to four men; two were from Team A, and two from Team B.

The surviving team members boarded a flight into Bliss, Nirvana, a city on an island off the coast of Xeraph. They picked the shortest flight possible--still quite long, as they were flying from Fluffywuffy--before springing into action almost all the way through the flight.

On Team A’s flight. . .

One of the terrorists, Bob Joel, looked at his watch, casually checking the time on a boring flight. As he stowed his book and let his seat back--it was a long flight, and he was quite tired--he managed to spill his Coke all over the aisle. The other two terrorists saw this and got the signal. Bob looked to one of them and nodded, pulling his gun out of his carry on bag and standing up. He hid the gun in the small of his back, walked up to the front of the aircraft, and turned to a stewardess, brandishing his gun. He hoped to hijack this plane in secret.

“Take me to the captain. If you tell anyone about me, I will kill you. Do as I say and no one will be hurt.” The stewardess had no choice but to let him into the cockpit, having a gun pointed to her head. “Captain, go to the nearest bathroom and wait,” he turned to the co-pilot, “same goes for you. If you tell anyone that I am here, you will die. Move it.”
In the bathrooms, the two pilots met the other two terrorists. The original plan had called for just incapacitating the two men and guarding them in the cockpit, but the unfortunate discovery of two of Team A’s members made the men change plans. Now their necks were just snapped, and the two armed men took up position near the front of the aircraft.

The timing was perfect. Just as Bob took the pilot’s seat--he was a trained pilot--the aircraft came over Bliss. Scanning the city, Bob saw exactly what he was looking for: the Financial Center. Pushing the throttle to full, Bob angled the plane toward the Center and said a silent prayer. The aircraft accelerated to full speed, and with a thunderous crash!, it slammed into the Financial Center.

On Team B’s Flight. . .

Team B’s leader had been taken out, and that had spelled disaster for the mission. Worse, the back-up leader had also been arrested in Fluffywuffy, and the remaining team members were the least intelligent ones. Despite having guns, Team B was unable to control the aircraft and was overpowered. Only one team member, Jeff Omar, remained. Luckily, he was in the cockpit when his colleagues were overpowered and could still fly the airplane. Unfortunately, the crew had interrogated the terrorists and learned of Jeff’s suicide mission, and they were banging on the door. It was only a matter of time before they got in, and so Jeff surrendered, knowing he could not complete his mission. His aircraft touched down safely in Bliss, and Jeff and the two other terrorists were turned over to the authorities.

Roger Durling’s few sources in Xeraph sent him a message, via e-mail to a university, that one of the airplanes had indeed crashed in Bliss. Durling smiled to himself and started planning other events.

Alaric Tani't, Emperor of Xeraph, was making tea. As he sat on the plush chaise lounge, his robe, light grey on dark grey, swirled around him as if he were the eye of a great dark whirlpool.
He poured steaming hot into an earthen cup. As he did so, his old friend and military commander, John Strickland, stood in the doorway to his private residence.
Alaric had his back to the doorway. He faced the edge of the porch and the large window through which could be seen the cherry trees in full blossom, clouds come to walk the earth, marching up the densely wooded slopes of Xeraphia, their oblique branches as green as the hills beyond, covered with ancient moss. The scent of cedar was very strong........
Alaric never tired of that view. He looked now at the tea, it's color lightening, and he saw all there was to see beyond that thin pane of glass.
" John, tell me something. What is the first thing we assess in combat?"
Strickland smiled slightly, knowing what was coming. A lesson in The Art Of War, one of Alaric's favorite subjects. He had studied Sun Tzu for over 40 years, and was wise in the ways of battle. And he himself had learned quite a bit just listening to the Emperor.
" Our opponent," Strickland said immediately. " The exchange of attitude and intention tells us where we are and how we are to proceed."
" Indeed," Alaric said, as if this were a new concept to him and he was mulling it over in his mind. " So we think of victory."
" No," the general said. "We concern ourselves with not being defeated."
The Emperor looked at him with his hard black eyes that seemed ripped from a hawk's fierce face. " Good," he said at last. " Very good."
The general was a bit wary. Alaric had never praised him this quickly before. Be careful, he cautioned himself.....be on guard.
" So here we equate defeat with the end of life."
Strickland nodded. "In hand to hand, we are on the death ground, as Sun Tzu has written. We must fight, always."
Alaric now allowed a full smile. " But Sun Tzu has also written, 'To subdue the enemy without fighting shows the highest level of skill. Thus, what is supreme is to attack the enemy's strategy."

It was exactly 3 seconds later that the explosion rocked Alaric's abode. A mushroom of fire and smoke arose over the hills about 2 miles away. The emergency sirens wailed.....................

The scene before him was incredible. Dante's Inferno could not have been more terrible. In his wildest dreams, Strickland could not have imagined such chaos and pandemonium. Burning cars and trucks were everywhere, and bodies, many bodies......
He was still trying to assess what had happened, when he saw the tail assembly of a Xeraphian Airways 767, or rather, most of it, was imbedded inside the Bank of Typhon's basement wall. The building's 25 story structure was virtually wiped out, and the surrounding buildings fared little better.
All together, it looked like at least four buildings were gone, and several more were either moderately or severely damaged.

" Gen. Strickland," a woman screamed, " what is the Emperor going to do about this?"
Good question, lady, he thought. " Ma'am, we need to find out who did this first, and then assess the damage. Rest assured whoever was responsible will pay dearly."

" Well they better," she said. " There's what's left of my son and daughter, in that mini-van over there. Alaric better avenge them......."

Roger Durling decided he had waited long enough, and so he fired up his home video camera, activated a computer sound-scrambling machine to mask his voice, and put a black ski mask over his face. The mask covered all of his face, save for his eyes; the eyes were the most terrible to behold, for it was almost as if there were an animal, not a human, lurking behind them. Those blue orbs also shone with determination, ever important for the terrorist to show. An AK-47 was pointed at the camera, and now he was forced to make a threat.

"The nation of Xeraph and her allies have crossed a line in the sand, and for that Xeraph shall pay. The World Liberation Movement will wage an unrelenting war against Xeraph, ending only when the last soldier's blood has been spilt, ending only when Xeraph's corrupt government falls. The WLM gives the Emperor of Xeraph twenty-four hours to resign his post or the WLM shall strike harder and faster. . ." the speech went on, railing out against every imaginable Xeraph policy decision, good or ill, and generally calling citizens all over the world to arms against the Xeraphan government.
The tape was left on the front porch of a world-wide news corporation, which sent the tape to Xeraphan authorities.

Alaric was surveying the carnage when a cop ran up to him. " Alaric, we just found this at XNN Center downtown." He was holding a dvd. " Let's see that, officer." He said to Strickland, " Let's check this out."

After the tenth time watching it, Alaric was furious. " This guy is obviously a lunatic. So, here's what we're gonna do. I want the entire coastline blockaded by the Royal Navy, and I want the AirForce patrolling 24/7.
Have OSS-2 and 2 scanning constantly, and have the 22 Guardian Battle Platforms on high alert. We don't know at this point if this terror-nation has orbital capabilities. When we find out who did this, theyr'e gonna remember when they attacked Xeraph.............."

Count Brujah, Tribal Lord of the Dark Council, of the nation of Vhammpyr, region of Remus, Empire of Xeraph, rubbed his bloody jaw, and thought," Alaric's in trouble again. Those puny humans....can't seem to get it right."

"My Lord." It was Brujah's body-servant, Marjoray. " We have a note from Vlad..."

" Yes, yes, I already know. That fool Alaric has bitten off more tha he can chew this time."

Marjoray was no longer surprised at her master's abilities. How he knew Alaric was in trouble was incidental to the fact that he knew......before he was told.

" Call the Dark Council, and notify Ryd Blydd too. It seems every 200 years or so we have to rescue Alaric from his errant ways." He smiled to himself. He had a soft spot for the half-human, half-wolfen/vampire ruler of Xeraph. Alaric was still a child by vampiric standards, only 213 years old. The last time he was awoken, it was also due to Alaric Tan'it, heir to the thrones of Atlantis and Lemuria, descendant of Tanith, legendary Warrior-King of ancient Acheron, whose blood-soaked streets were old when Atlantis was a village, and Xeraph just a patch of wind-blown sand. It seemed Alaric knocked-up the wrong girl. The girl was the daughter of the local king, and daddy was pissed...................Brujah smiled again, and then a frown replaced the smile. "This is bigger than a girl. This is big-time trouble........."

Prince Ghengiz, Lord of the Black Katanas, was extremely concerned. His country's "specialty" was surveillance and recon, and none were better at it than the Katanas. Except perhaps those damn vampires.
This was serious. Alaric had gotten himself mixed up with terrorists before, but these seemed to be much better organised and funded than the other terrorist swine. Ghengiz really didn't know where to start. There were few clues at the scene of the plane crash....everything was incinerated. The only smidgen of a clue was an arm....presumably of the terrorist who flew that plane into the Finance Center....that had a tattoo of a twisted cross, and the letters 'wlm' in a circle...................

OOC: Don't forget that the people on the second airplane managed to overpower three terrorists and turn them over to you. You can try interrogating them for clues. That'd also be fun.

IC:

The first stage of his plan finished, Roger Durling now initiated the second stage. He drove from his home to a phone booth, where he called a cell phone. No one answered, as planned, and so he left a voice mail. He spoke in code words; his cover identity to this team was a travel agent. "Hello Mr. Smith. This is Mr. Raman from SkyHi Travel Agency, and I just want to let you know we have finished arrangements for your trip to Hawaii. Thank you. Goodbye."

The man on the other end was another terrorist, and his name really was Smith--well, his name was actually Thomas, but he preferred to go by Smith when his colleagues contacted him. Smith was captain of the MV Clear Sky, a large merchant vessel cruising along off the coast of Xeraph, headed toward the island Nirvana. Currently employed by World Shipping and Freight, a WLM front company, Smith had taken on some special cargo, in addition to the normal load of automobiles. A detachment of fourteen "security guards" had been specially assigned to this ship, and they were armed a little unconventionally: fourteen AK-47s, two mortars, two SA-7s, and two RPG-7s. The mortars were given to two-man teams for later use, carefully hidden, and doubly secured by a sizeable bribe donated to a Fluffywuffy customs agent. The SA-7s, AK-47s and RPG-7s were similarly hidden, but were assigned on a one-per-man basis. Also hidden aboard was a sizeable amount of plastic explosives and a few rafts.

But all this was useless without orders. But now they had orders, and the plan sprung into action. The explosives had been set in such a way that they would damage one of the ship’s engines and make the merchant vessel appear to be badly damaged. The "guards" had been removed from this section of the ship, and a timed fuse set off the explosives, blasting a hole in the hull and damaging one of the ship's engines, as planned. Following the blast, several real security guards on the ship were randomly mowed down by the terrorists to make it look as though the ship’s security guards had managed to kill the terrorists. Some of the guards were tricked into thinking their fellow guards were terrorists, and that only added to the realism and the body count.

Finally, Captain Smith--Thomas to every non-WLM member--got on the radio and informed the Xeraph authorities what happened. "Hello? Anybody read me? This is Captain Thomas of the Merchant Vessel Clear Sky. We’ve just come under some terrorist attack, our engine’s been hit with a bomb and the terrorists tried to kill the crew. Luckily our security guards managed to fend them off, but we’ve lost a lot of fuel and I don’t think we can make it to Bliss. I’m sorry if this means you gotta arrest me as soon as I make landfall, but I’m headin’ to the nearest port. I’ll even let ya send some men on, if ya want. Thomas out." As soon as he finished the transmission, his boat angled toward the Xeraph coast, and the men aboard hid their illegal weapons, drawing dinky pistols and trying to look as scared as possible.

The Harbor Master was skeptical. He heard what the merchant vessal had said, but he didn't entirely believe him. Why? Because he had the full transcript of the incident in Bliss, on the island of Nirvana, which included the heroic actions of the passengers of the second airliner that would have been flown into Xeraph's premier theme park, Woojy Land. It seems that the terrorists aboard the flight had spilled their guts (literally, after the interrogators got thru with them) about the plans for terror in Xeraph. Apparently, there were several WLM vessals commandeered for suicide missions. They were to appear as merchant and/or diplomatic boats and ships that had been sabotaged by terrorists, and requesting immediate berthing ports, ostensibly for repair. Thats when they would blow up.

Aside from the Emperor's express order that no foreign nationals were ever to be admitted to Xeraph, under any conditions, at any time, the added constraints of the situation forbade the admittance of foreign shipping without boarding to check for possible terror material.

" Merchant ship Clear Sky, by order of the Emperor, you are ordered to stop where you are, and be prepared to be boarded for inspection. I repeat, you will not proceed further."

I hope they don't stop, he thought. I'd like nothing better than to blow them out of the water.

" Sgt. Pliskin, contact the commanders of the Oscar Sub Group in the harbor, and have them ready to send a couple of fish towards that merchant. And let the SEALS know what's happening, too."

"Aye, sir."

" And seargent, have the Rattlesnakes do a few fly-overs, just to be sure..."

Shaku Sha'amamee, the head Sultan of Neo-Islam in Green Sun and also the Religious leader in Green Sun picked up the morning newspapaer and sipped his cup of alien-made juice. This stuff was toxic to humans but delicious to Sanghelli. He sat down in his favorite chair, the chair in which the last religious official would string and play his electric guitar in. He leaned his alien head back and then looked at the paper. He opened it up and read the story of Xeraph being attacked. Shaku laughed at the general stupidity of humans and tossed it in the fire.

"Roger. Clear Sky is stopping, waiting for your men. Jesus, I hope they hurry up, the damage looks like it's worse than I thought. We're taking on a little bit of water. Thomas out." Smith switched off the radio and swore. "Shit! We're not supposed to stop!" This unnerved a few of Smith's underlings, as they had never seen Smith so angry before. Smith could take two possible actions. He could blow the ship up with the remaining explosives and try and complete the mission with the rafts, or he could sit tight and hope the enemy didn't find his illegal weapons. What to do, what to do. . .

At that moment an idea popped into his head. He and a few of the loyal security guards--the ones that knew of today's events--would stay behind while the actual terrorists would climb into the rafts, fire up their engines, and try to get ashore. Another decoy rubber raft would be sent out, with a single loyal guard to pilot it and a few dead bodies propped up on it to make it look like it was full. He briefed the crew and they went about business, activating his plan. He had the remaining explosives set so that if the enemy did board his ship, he could blow himself up and thus act as yet another decoy. Well, it's better than nothing, he thought.

The rubber rafts with the terrorists tore out of the ship, racing toward the Xeraph coastline as fast as possible, those armed with SA-7s scanning the sky for any aircraft, and scanning the horizon for any ships. The rafts were too small be be hit by torpedo or have a missile lock onto them, but ships had guns, and so did helicopters. Although they couldn't fire the mortars from the rubber rafts, the mortars were brought along, ready for whatever fun might happen later in the day.

The Harbor Master grinned and yelled," Got 'em. I knew those sonsabitches were'nt right! Look at them run! Ensign, get hold of the captain of the carrier, and have him send a half-dozen HCGS's after those inflatable rafts. Now, we're gonna sink us a WLM vessal..."

bump

OOC: I'm assuming the HCGS's are helicopters. If they are aircraft, then this still works, yet there are more casualties on my side. I'm also assuming this is relatively close to shore, and that there is a port city near the shore.
IC:

The inflatable rafts raced as fast as possible to the shore, urged onward by the chopping sound of helicopter rotors. Though nimble, the rafts were no match for the helicopters, and so the two men armed with SA-7s aimed at the squadron of six choppers, readied, and fired, doing so as fast as possible. The heat seeking warheads lanced out at the helicopters, their deadly purpose contrasted by the puffy white contrails that followed them. In a few minutes the surviving helicopters closed and opened up with their cannons, slashing apart most of the rafts, excepting a single raft, containing four men, armed with four AKs, one mortar, and an RPG-7.

These men ran as fast as they could, which was quite slow, as the mortar was heavy, as was the RPG and AKs. Realizing that they cannot possibly resist much longer, the men starting shooting at everyone they see, firing off mortar rounds in random directions and using the RPG-7 as essentialy a large grenade, aiming it into a crowded intersection.

OOC> yes, Helicopter Gun Ships.

IC> " Oh my God," the gunship lieutenant gasped. " One of them got away, and now theyr'e firing indiscriminately at anything that moves. " The BlackHawk was the only one left. They had to do something. " Open fire on the terrorists, gunner. Kill 'em all."

" There's too many Xeraphians around, sir!"

" Acceptable, gunner. If we don't stop them now, there'll be more than a few dead citizens. There'll be hundreds."

"Aye, sir....."

The RPG-7 armed man saw the gunship, but as he turned to try and aim his rocket launcher, the gunship opened fire. The mortar crew fired off a mortar into the city just as the gunner aimed at them, and they went down, morphing the river of blood into a lake. The last man watched as the first, the RPG armed man, fell, and he ran toward the nearest building, diving as he heard the shots of the gunship march up the street behind him. The shots did not immediatly kill him, and he depressed the trigger on his AK-47, firing wildly even as he died.

Back at home Roger Durling made an announcement, disguised as in the first announcement, where he boasted of his organization's bold assault on Xeraph. He said that more attacks would occur unless the government of Xeraph deposited one hundred billion dollars into the WLM's coffers. In actuallity, he had to pause and plan for the next operation, and so the next attacks wouldn't occur for a few days. He had to plan another infiltration into Xeraph, this one not to kill but to recruit, and then he had to plan a bombing campaign. If he recruited a few Xeraph citizens, Durling imagined the shock value of using a few of them in the next operations would be great. Wouldn't that be great, to kill them with their own people, he thought. Well, off to bed. I've got a big day tommorow.

[Xeraph, you've had T-grams--you really should check those periodically, you know]

[Xeraph, you've had T-grams--you really should check those periodically, you know]

OOC> sorry, but I'm a truck driver. I'm gone sometimes 3-10 days, and don't often have access to the internet.

From: The Xeraphian Treasury
To: WLM

The exact quote from the Emperor: "The only deposit I'm gonna make is my foot so far up their leader's ass, he'll be able to taste it."

I would translate this as follows: Not one penny will EVER be paid to terrorists.

quite happily yours,


Baron Trump, Director of the Royal Xeraphian Treasury

bump

Roger Durling had to do something else. The question was what would he do? Information warfare? Nah, that wouldn't work. Just another murder? Well, it was better than nothing. Another normal sounding telephone call was made, and the order was given: another merchant vessel would strike. Another press release was made, this time with the mistake of showing a picture of Durling on a desk. Intelligence services all over the world would now have a current picture of Durling to work with, though not much else in the way of leads.

The MV Dolphin was registered in Allanea, an ally of Fluffywuffy, and its parent corporation was Imperial Pharma-Tech, a quite legimate scientific research corporation that developed vaccines for many diseases. But the captain and a few crew members were not as they appeared. The captain was not an overt supporter of the Movement; he was just a guy looking for some money, and he was paid simply to deliver his product a few days early. Amongst the normal drums of vaccine and other medical supplies were AK-47s, which were overlooked in Fluffywuffy due to a large bribe. The ship pulled into Bliss at night, and fifteen terrorists burst out, quite to the astonishment of the crew.

After killing everyone on the Dolphin, including the captain, these men then rushed into the streets, shooting up everyone they saw, manuevering to enter a building a take a few hostages. Three men went down in an engagement with a police officer who just so happened to be nearby, but the rest slaughtered their way forward. They shot everyone: men, women, and even children. Truly sick in the head, they saw everything as a political statement. And this would be a big one, they thought.

bump

bump

[You know, I was waiting for you to respond to those terrorists with something, but oh well]

The twelve remaining terrorists pointed their rifles at a group of people and shouted, commanding them to stand still. They maneuvered around the terrified hostages to encircle them, firing warning shots at those brave--or foolish--enough to act in a threatening manner. The herd was forced into a nearby building, where the perfect room was selected for their storage. The room was in the center of the building and contained no windows, so that any counter-terror team could not rappel down the walls and strike the terrorists from all directions. Only a single door entered the room (another door left the room to a bathroom, but that bathroom had no alternate entrances or windows), and a counter-terror team would face terrorists hiding all around the door.

It was now time to make demands. One of the terrorists dialed the number to a local police station, where he left a message. "This is One. As you are aware, I have taken prisoners. As you may also be aware, the tactical situation favors us. We demand twenty billion dollars in cash and an airplane--do not try anything on the airplane, we have a trained engineer--or we will start killing off the hostages at midnight, with one killed every fifteen minutes until either you give in to our demands or the hostages are dead. You can contact me at this number: 1-561-658-8541. Out."