NationStates Jolt Archive

President Hellerich looked over the crowds from his motorcade as the limousine prowled down Fortress Street, towards the Commons where the inauguration had always been held. The election had been brutally close. This story was the only thing taking precedence over the crackdowns on corporations, the faltering job market, and increasing crime. Somehow, he'd managed to shamble back from the grave, much to the surprise of many pundits.

A former Marine who'd served in the Second Markov War, he valued service, and the point was pressed again and again whenever someone brought up his Centrist Party's cuts to the military budget. Touting the idea that New Empire was no longer a nation that needed mass offensive capability, he'd begun to lose respect from the troops. But the fact was that there would have to be some changes this time around. New Empire had been slowly decaying as the rest of the world changed. The crowds and the glistening podium and decorations were blue, gray, and gold shimmering in the sun.

Stepping out of the limo, the marine honor guard saluted, and he returned it. Walking to the podium, he truly felt he could show that his campaign wasn't full of bollocks. He would deliver. He'd have to.

Two miles away, another soldier prepared for an even more nation-changing event. His uniform was that of an electrical service company, but the eyes and face betrayed a job of such mediocrity. A large case of tools sat with him as the service elevator creaked up to the top level of the office building, some healthcare group. In the distance he could see the Fortress commons, choked with people. Helicopters flew in circles, looking for those who would attempt to interrupt the ceremony. Riot police were farther out, holding back protestors.

He grinned as he crept under the tarp over the 'broken' antenna. His case of tools contained devices of a different nature. The spotting scope came out first, his brain working as he calculated the shot-though one worked out long before on different visits to the antenna array.

Hellerich stepped up the podium where the chief justice was waiting. The vow came off his tounge smoothly, he'd done it before and now was feeling as confident as ever. The nation looked upon this man in silence, waiting in anticipation for his speech. As the vow finished, President Hellerich, smiling, lowered his right hand, turned to the podium, and exploded.

--

The soldier had plenty of time to line up his shot, as the President stood stock still, firmly dedicating himself to the nation and its people. As he did, the entire world of this soldier focused itself upon him, the wind, and his trigger finger. Squeezing the trigger, the rifle bucked and a 15.5mm Draka round roared towards the chest of the President. He did not bask in the splendor of his shot, he merely worked the bolt and fired again.

--

The crowd went into shock as the remains of the President's upper torso ragdolled backwards. The Presidential Guard raced to bring the rest of the officials to cover, but it was no use at all. Soon the Vice President took a shot to the back. He was not dead, but would be in about a minute. The crowd was completely insane. People were scrambling to get out of the way when one of the Presidential advisors ceased to exist as a functioning human being.

--

"JESUS CHRIST, what is going on down there?"

Chief Warrant Officer 2 Raymond Felsinger looked from his gun turret's camera down at the chaos at the podium. Radio orders barked towards the pilot, and soon the TVL-88 swung around towards an office building. The intercom crackled.

"THE BASTARD'S OVER THERE. HE'S GOT AN ANTI-MATERIAL RIFLE, SAME CALIBER AS YOUR CHIN MOUNT. WATCH YOURSELF, THIS GUY GOT THREE PERFECT SHOTS OFF IN LESS THAN A MINUTE. NOW LET'S TAKE HIM OUT."

The gunner switched to thermal, looking for something in the building. He found movement, but the signature was faint, flickering in and out of visibility.

"FUCKER HAS THERMAT!"

The PG troops in the hold swore at this, and signaled to be taken to the ground.

"WE SET UP A PERIMETER. THERE'S NOBODY IN THAT BUILDING BUT HIM, SO IF YOU GET A BEAD, WE WASTE HIM."

The pilot and gunner nodded as they watched the PG troops move in. The helicopter hovered upwards, when suddenly the man appeared again.

"I SEE HIM!"

"DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME, SMOKE HIM!"

The three barreled 15.5mm cannon in the chin took less than a second to spin up, and a burst of the rounds smashed clear through the building, one of the ten not making it through entirely when it hit a support beam.

"SCREW THIS, I CAN'T TRACK HIM."

--

The soldier watched as the area immediately behind him vaporized from a burst of gatling gun fire. The elevator was just ahead. He'd pressed the button for it to go up on the floor above, so he would be safe for now. Taking a little sphere of C4, he mashed it against the doors and turned to the side, setting it off. The metal doors burst open, falling down the shaft. Locating a secure wire, he began rapelling down to the basement. From there, he located a service tunnel to one of the underground highways that traced through the cities. Grabbing a motorcycle placed inside earlier, he roared into the traffic, hoping to break the time it would take for the police to transfer forces and set up a new cordon. Gunning it, the vehicle sped away. They would find the melted remains of his rifle on the roof, the result of a thermite charge.

--

Two hours later he was tracing the route of a local river in the suburbs, when he came to a restaurant. A high-end sedan sat there, in a silver color. It was a popular model, plenty of people had them. Taking his Swiss knife he found another vehicle, fortunately with the plate of a different city-state. Switching the plates, he drove off.

The young man who emerged from the restaurant half an hour later found that his car was missing. Embarrassed, he called the police in front of his date as the police came to take him to the station. When he arrived he found that local police units had seen many similar vehicles, but none with his liscence plate. Nobody notice the motorcycle in the river, or the fact that one of the janitor's cars bore the missing identification.

*tag*

*Bump while i write up my more conspiracy-tastic post*
(By the way, feel free to enter this RP however you want, as long as it doesnt involve nuking me.)

[Old Fortress Commons - Berliston]

It was all over, had been for hours. But you could still smell it. Blood stained the ground, and the place stank of shit. The bodies, or what remained of them, had already been zipped up and rushed to the morgue. Ballistic analysis showed the bullets were close in grain size to DrakArms 15.5x120mm, which would explain why there were consistent kills made at nearly two miles. Whoever made the shots was a professional sniper, and had virtually disappeared: nobody had seen anything of him but his heat signature.

--

Jan Smit had a plain name by most people's standards. But as he stood in front of the cameras in a televised broadcast from the Old Fortress a day after the incident, he was the most powerful man in the nation. As the Speaker for the Senate, he was a member of one of the two groups that competed against Hellerich's Centrist Party, the National Alliance.

Straightening his tie, he looked into the camera and began to speak.

--

[Outside Point Dasch]

"Only a day later and they're still fucking protesting. It's been a week, you'd think they'd give it up."

The two Hyland-Nikolaas Industries mercs, or as they were legally termed 'security employees', stood at their post, watching the 40,000 or so protestors outside their compound. Police stood outside too, but they hadn't really done much against the mass.

The issue of corporate power had become so intense that even staunch Centrist Hellerich had been forced to bow to the complaints of the New Socialist Party. And despite the mass investigations and litigation, the protestors had been there for a week. The usual signs about mercenary atrocities in Blightland or MPHK or some other godforsaken hellhole were there, along with more drivel about economic equality.

The technological age had brought wonders for the conspiracy theorists. Someone had circulated stolen information from the investigative reports: The rounds that killed the president were exclusively marketed by the HNI subsidiary, DrakArms. And so now there were a few 'corporations killed the president' signs along with everything else. Of course, the NSP had reason to hate Hellerich too- all sorts of increases to Law Enforcement and 'privacy-violating' databases and systems had put them in fury for years.

In the background, some political commentators were discussing the ramifications of Smit becoming President.

"-Well, we've all seen the reports on how many jobs the Safe Market Act would cost the workforce, and the NA isn't going to tolerate anything like that. We're going to see a reversal in economic trends now that the Centrist Party's 20 years of success is over."

Viral information would work against the NSP however. An email message from an address known to be affiliated with a pro-NSP radical group called the Equality Front, great admirers of Rosseau and other less savory characters in UCSNE politics, had released not only calls for the 'general will to take power from the grasp of tyrants' and 'to keep struggling though one obstacle has been removed', but a photo from the scope of the rifle before it had been fired.

Released the next day, the nation had gone beserk. The Equality Front had a paramilitary arm, and whoever agnchng@equalityfront.org was, they were close to the assasin. The various law enforcement agencies and the government tried to quiet the people calling for retaliation, but an investigation was launched. The populace believed they knew who had killed the President, but they longed to know why.

TAG, for future reading

[Sloane Residence, Halisfavon]

Robert Sloane was a head member of the NSP-Equality Front, which meant nothing good for him had come of the past day. He lay sleepless in his bedroom, lying on the floor with some pillows in the bed. His windows were shut, and cans of Red Bull lay by his bedside. An S12K shotgun was in his shoulder strap, a Glock chambered in .357 in a hip holster. And then the knock on his door. Two short raps.

A man in his late 30s, he looked much older at the time. He said nothing and checked his weapons. They knew he was in here. The warning. They said they had a warrant. And then the battering ram. At that moment he realized that he'd rigged the door when some angry college students tried to break in. Getting up, he shouted, but the words that came out of his mouth were drowned out by a claymore mine.

Someone yelled something out. And then the first cop appeared.

Except it wasn't a cop. It was a Murph*. In full M193 ORC armored battledress.

The power armored figure cocked its (his? hers? there was no way to tell.) M9 carbine and fired a ringfoil round into his chest. His wind knocked out, he collapsed to the floor, and the ORC ripped the gun off its strap, and took the pistol and kicked it away. Another ORC cuffed him, and from there he was dragged into an APC, towards some of the most infamous facilities in the nation.

[Outside Point Dasch]

And suddenly, the police moved in. Looking for the distinct red-gray markings of the EF members, tear gas was fired into the crowd as gas masked troopers fought their way through the crowd. Batons and LTL weapons made themselves present, and then the rocks started to fly. They were met with bursts of LTL weapons. Soon the entire area was cleared out, gas masked mercenaries and policemen rounding up the EF members.

[James Teller residence, Peringeln Range]

From his family estate in the mountains, James Teller watched in fear and concern. The TV showed hundreds of arrests, murders by vigilantes- anyone even associated with the EF was having it come down on them like a ton of bricks. And then he saw the cars. Well cleaned, black, snaking up the driveway.

He tried to straighten his appearence up as he walked out to meet them. The men who got out would have looked normal if it wasnt for the pistol holsters and DSA** jackets.

"Your ties to the Equality Front have forced us to arrest you, the primary donor to the EF organization. Our actions are legitimate under the National Emergency Act of 1996. You are entitled to-"

The chairman of the New Socialist Party listened somberly and was lead into the vehicle, and then to a DSA holding facility. The entire political party was coming apart at the seams.

--
*Murph- term for MIRF, or Mobilie Intervention and Reaction Force, a Special Forces/CT unit.

**DSA- Domestic Security Agency, UCSNE equivalent of FBI and DEA.

"So," Fratelli asked, looking at the breifs, "what exactly is happening?"

"Well, they think some sockies pulled a trigger, and now, they're cracking skulls." The man speaking was Minister Donald Sinclair, the Minister of Foriegn Affairs. "And they are doing it rather messily too, not something we see to much from their neck of the woods."

Fratelli didn't know much about New Empire. To her, many of the former allied states that had formed the Allied Powers were just history for Imitora, part of the past, places where she would visit when taking breaks from school. She looked over what footage had made it on to the Imitoran broadcast agencies' evening news, watching intently.

"Well, Minister, what do you think?"

"I say we let them know we are watching, and offer what help they wish we offer. Sure, they have been a lefter leaning nation historically, but, with the crack downs they've been having, it never hurts to lend a helping hand."

Fratelli nodded. "Say that we are here to help, if they need it. If they deny, see if we can get someone ICIA in, just to watch. I'll talk to Stone, see what he would put together."

Sinclair nodded. "Yes ma'am, I'll get right on it. I'll have a notice sent out tonight, with your endorsement."

"Excellent. Thanks Donald."

Fratelli had to work fast. At the moment, she was dealing with the upcomming election, and the last thing she wanted to do was toss off this situation into the lap of one of the incumbants, considering who was running. She sighed, and called up the IMSPECOPSCOM.

To Speaker Jan Smit, New Empire,

First, please allow me to express the condolences to the loss of your late President. We have felt the sting of loss from assasination in our own nation as well, and we understand the pain that is associated with it. However, I feel that, in the current time, I must get to buisness quickly. It has come to our attention that a recent string of events has rendered the nation in a near chaotic state. What little we know of the events, we understand the courses of action taken by police and federal agencies within your nation, and express our full support for any means which you deem nessacery to bring those who purpatraded this henious crime to justice.

I write to you to express the willingness of the Imitoran people to assist with your search, and help in anyways which you feel appropriate to help with the search. I hope that we can assist you in ways that you require, and that things may return to a normal state of affairs. With endorsement of the First Speaker,

*SIGNED*

Donald P. Sinclair
Minister of Foreign Affairs and Relations
Imitora

**tag**

[Poseidon, Oceanic City-States]
Millions of tons of corporate and government investment floated here, giant artificial islands now light up in the night. This was a haven for the corporate and the right-wing, socialists despised the place, when they were built 10 years ago, over 100 died in a terrorist/riot incident over the legality of the operation.

And so, as the soldier's CVL-88, registered to Nightfall Systems, flew in, he felt a sense of relief. There would be little police pressence here, because there were virtually no left wingers (or poor or criminals for that matter, considering it was an artifical island, there were no space for slums and those who couldnt pay for room.) After the usual clearances, the aircraft, along with the other 11 passengers, set down at PIA, an added on module. From there, he caught a monorail to the primary section of Poseidon, and then, to the new headquarters of Nightfall Systems.

It was a big building, shining and glorious. He walked through the main hallway, the walls covered with photographs of the various products and employees. He looked around. They weren't there. Fuck it all, they put him on the grid for nothing. Unless...

He turned around and began walking out. Jogging his memory, he remembered the safe house. Not too far from here. He called a cab, and soon he was moving.

[Old Fortress]

Jan Smit was now the President of the UCSNE.

Shaking hands in the forearm grip common of soldiers, he listened to the wishes for good luck. He would need it. The nation needed it. He walked over the the podium (secure inside the Old Fortress, of course), and began to speak.

"People of the United City States, I would say I am proud to hold his honor if it was not for the unfortuante circumstances that have brought me here. The two men who perished to bring me here were great men, and I can only hope to serve the nation as well as they did.

"But we have a greater task at hand! Over a week ago, three people were slain. We have been acquiring evidence. And I will not lift the State of Emergency until these bastards have been brought in. I will search and investigate every group necessary until we have the assailant at hand. This crime will..."

[UCSNE reply]

We appreciate any help you can lend us. We only fear that the situation will become more desperate as we move on: Investigations have revealed a conspiracy involving the Equality Front that will implicate over 70 government officials, and equally dreaded news: The sniper will strike again at some point, our analysts believe within the next two weeks. Our nation is on the brink of anarchy. Any help investigating and tracking down these people before another tragedy would be most appreciated. Any elements you wish to send can be directed to the DSA headquarters in the Ouswald City State, where we can brief them further.

Wisner trilobite, studied the news reports of the assassinations with worry, as the head of the endear (roughly translated MINE!) movement, the assassination of the head of the New empire ought to have been a good thing, but he was very worried.

He knew that his small would be nation state, which occupied a long peninsular had always been under the control of the New Empire, originally conquered 80 years ago in response to a destabilised government in the peninsular and held on to ever since, suffering many wars fought on its soil by other nations, but still regarded as a strategic dagger by the military they where never likely to release it without a great deal of effort.

On the face of it, the loss of the president a former military man, was a good thing, it might give his fledgling government in exile as it was sometimes grandly named far more space to manoeuvre and perhaps wrench some sort of sovereignty from new empire, that was not the case. The military of empire had long wanted to crack down hard on the few freedoms allowed his poor state, but the moderate president had restrained them, now he was gone.

Even worse their seemed to be a thin trial of evidence pointed at endear.

As far as he knew no-one from his group had committed it, so who wanted the evidence pointed at him?

The real assassin? Some unconnected? Another nation?

He knew thought he had with very few resources find out who and FAST

Deputy Premier Leon Demeinov sat at his desked,reading the various reports on the New Empire situation.He slowly sighed and looked at the Premier who was even more concerned over the situation.

"Well,sir,reports indicate a large number of arrest,possibly some Malatosians involved."

Premier Anatov slowly sipped some water from his cup and skimmed through one of the reports.The number of casualties,arrest among other things deeply troubled him.He looked at Demeinov and sighed.

"Well,I want a detailed number on the amount of Malatosian Citizens possible arrested in this fiasco.I dont want any of our people hurt.Contact the KGB Foreign Intelligence Agency,I have a possible mission for them."

Deputy Premier Demeinov quickly wrote down what the Premier dictated and handed the paper to his assistant to quickly exited the room to fulfill the order.

"Comrade,with the current situation in New Empire,the situation could be "perfect" for a Revolution on a grand scale.Spreading the teachings of socialism in order to forward the cause of Leninism" The Deputy Premier said as he sat back looking out of the window.

"Yes,very true,but we have to becareful what we do.Acting too agressively could mean war and acting too lenient could mean failure.We have to work in between.Alert the KGB,that I have a special mission for them."

The Deputy Premier and Premier both stood up and shook eachothers hand and parted the ways for the rest of the day.
--
Inside the KGB,The KGB Generals and Special Forces were going over the plan for the upcoming operation.These men were some of most well-trained and feared men in Malatose.They were responsible for keeping the integrity of the Socialist State as well as supporting socialism worldwide.

They sat in almost a frozen state as they took orders and listened to their surperiors discuss the objectives.The Objectives in this mission was simple.Investigate the situation with the Malatosian citizens;however,there was a little extra.The Special Forces would make contact with the Socialist "Equality Front" Politcal Group in New Empire.

The exact reason was unknown,however they were ordered to assist them in whatever they needed.That included weapons,tactics,etc.After the meeting,the men headed straight to the airport where they boarded a lone IL-76 disguised as a civilian transport.The plane took off from the quiet airport,heading towards New Empire.According to plan,they were supposed to fly over at night and they did just that.

As the plane flew over,the men began operation "Contact".One after one,they paratrooped into the Peringeln mountains.A strange place to the KGB Special Forces,however they had studied the area in detailed and knew them like the back of their hands.As they landed,they hid the Paradrop equippment and continued on their journy,to meet with the Socialist Equality Group.

[Over the Peringeln Range]

The TVL-88s were whisper quiet, their fans and blades in stealth mode to keep noise below 60-70 decibels. They flew low, with their cabin doors closed and all lights off to avoid detection.

In the cabin, the troops all looked over at the EF prisoner, who had led them to this general location after some interrogation. He looked nervous now, sitting unarmed in a hold full of armed DSA agents. They didn't blame him though. It was certainly not a claming sentiment.

[EF Basecamp Entrance]

The watchman saw the approaching men through his NVGs. He flicked off the safety on his G3 compact and raised it to his shoulder. The entrance to the underground hideout was about 10 yards away, and he was outnumbered. But hopefully these guys would be some kind of aid. They weren't armed, at least.

"Stop right there, and identify yourselves."

The whisper was harsh, but audible.

The group of men slowed down,slowly looking and nodding to eachother.The leader walked forward and began to reach into his pocket.

"Dont shoot,we arent the enemy.We are here to help you."

He slowly pulled out his KGB Special Forces badge.However,this wasnt the typical badge another nation would use.Agents were referred to by letter and number and not by full name.

"I'm agent OB-2452 and here behind me are my comrades.We're here on a special mission ordered by the premier of Malatose himself.Hopefully we can discuss matters."

He stood there..slowly awaiting an answer.

The watchman clicked the safety to his G3 off, and slowly lowered it.

"Malatose... Yeah. Trapdoor is over there."

The watchman lead them into the tunnel, where dim lighting illuminated the darkness. Another man was waiting there, leading them along.

"Nice to see we've got some backup. The bastards are all going crazy right now. They think we killed the Pres and the Veep, and in the process... Well, there are forty or so Malatosians in prison now... To be held until further notice."

Deeper into the area they were lead, the elaborate tunnel systems now aided by some power generators. Several rooms of weapons and equipment were availible.

Finally they came to a mess hall like area, which was furnished with some outdoor model chairs and tables.

"You guys want some grub?" He sighed a bit "Anyway... We're trusting the leadership of the Paramilitaries to you. All the head honchos got tracked down and rounded up. They don't know where we are, but chances are they'll be coming soon. I don't want to just sit here... We have to do something!"

The men sat down and listened to what the guard had to say.The other agents were shocked at how well built the secret mountain base was.The lead agent stood up,pacing back and forth thinking of what to do.

"Well,now we know for sure the government is holding our citizens in a prison.We just gotta figure out the exact location which shouldnt be too hard.Heh,for now we must coordinate a plan of attack."

The agent fell on one knee,taking off a backpack of sorts off his pack and slowly began to open it.Inside,he pulled out a HK-Vektor G-20 Assault Rifle Assault Rifle.The other agents follwed and did the same.

"Good gun this is,but what good is it if we dont have an adequare supply of ammo.Heck,we wouldnt last long against an all out an attack on this base.But that problem will soon be solved."

The agent pulled out a small device,which looked similar to a small cell phone.He flipped it open and pushed a button.This sent a encrypted signal meaning a emergency supply of armaments and armor was needed.These airdrops would come in immediantly and would be disguised as Passenger Airliners.

Now the men just waited.

"Holy shit. I think I've heard of these. 6.8mm Remington... Jesus. So how long till the supply drop?"

[15 miles away, aboard TVL-88 [i]Brownbag One-One]

His name was Hans Groller, and just as predicted, he was scared shitless.

There were 10 other men in the room, and all would have killed him on any other day. They wore full body armor and ghille suits, and were loaded with ammunition and weapons. One of them signaled the number five with his fingers, and then a soldier approached him with what looked like some kind of collar.

"This is PETN Detcord wrapped in a fusing material. You try to run away, and we set it off. You know what happens when we do that?" he asked rhetorically as he locked it around Hans' neck, "Shaped charge goes off, and it blows your fucking head clean off your shoulders. And don't try cutting it, you'll complete the fuse and its another fun display of anatomic fireworks. Same thing with unlocking it. We've also got a GPS tracker."

The helicopter began to descend near a clearing, and the bay door slid open. The rotorwash whispered through the grass as they pushed him out.

"Alright, you go to the encampment. We come in, and if you don't stab our fucking backs then you live. Good luck, you're gonna need it if you want to stay alive."

The helicopter pulled up and disappeared into the night. What the soldier hadn't said was that there was also an audio bug. Hans looked around in the sky nervously. Surely they wouldn't leave him completely on his own. He'd always have to assume there was someone else watching him as he got his bearings and began walking towards the complex.

[tag]

"Airdrop? Well,it should be here any within the next 15 minutes if they received my encrypted signal."

"And...if they didnt?" another agent replied.

"Well,we're in alot of trouble.."

Agent OB-2452 walked around the compound,trying to get a feel of the surroundings and seeing what could be placed for a "suitable" defense.As he looked around,he heard a noise as if something had crashed.

"What the? Ok guys,set up a defense,you over here and you over there.Get ready,I dont know that could be"

He slowly walked outisde with his gun pointed into the darkness,taking position behind a large rock.As he looked over,he saw a crate with the familiar
data code used by the Malatosian Government.

"Its nothing guys,but it appears the goods have arrived."

Inside the crate were assorted ammo,more guns and grenades.Something much needed if a good defense were to be mounted.However,that wasnt all of it.Inside other crates were the Type 01 Infantry Combat Gear,Shoulder-Mounted SAM systems and even more ammo.

"Ok guys,suit up and prepare,i have a feeling something big is coming.."

[HNI headquarters , outside Point Dasch]

The elevator slowly came down to the parking garage, making a ding as the doors opened. Picking up his briefcase, the tired IT worker walked over to his car. A really nice 2020 Henzer Cougar, in a dark blue paintjob. Unlocking it, he got into the vehicle and turned on the radio, flipping past the news reports to classic rock. He swiped his parking pass through the gate, and soon he'd be home.

But the road wasn't quite clear. The riot police were struggling to keep the protestors out of the parking lot, and someone was running at his car with a crowbar from the side. Another came from the front, with a knife. They were high-schoolers, just punks pissed off with the usual shit.

A police officer mouthed 'go!' over the din, and so he gunned it. His eyes wide as plates, the kid jumped to the side but got clipped, sending him flying into a cop, the knife sinking into the riot trooper's thigh. The man and his car drove onward, he was out of the worst to come.

The cop reacted on instinct, putting the kid into a compliance hold and slamming him into the pavement. His nose started to ooze blood. The other protestors only saw a teenager being beat into the pavement, and an angry and frustrated protestor, the one who was bearing the crowbar, slammed it into the cop's helmet. Through the seething pain he yelled officer down, and then the shooting started.

Another riot trooper drew his Seburo J10, and fired. Two 10mm JHP rounds slammed into the back of the crowbar bearing man, dropping him in a messy affair. The crowd around him suddenly quieted. A girl looked frantically to the cop trying to come to his senses after the blow, then to the corpse and the expanding pool of blood under it and then to the riot cop holding the weapon.

"You... You killed him. BASTARD!"

The news spread like wildfire, and instead of fear, it was anger. The police switched back to non-lethal weapons, but then, several dozen protestors drew arms or molotov cocktails. Bullets began to fly as the two groups exchanged fire. In the end, when the crowds had dispersed, 45 were dead, 7 of them by collateral. The reporters caught it instantly.

Fifteen minutes later a Point Dasch police station was hit with a bomb. A propane tank wrapped with C4 was almost enough to collapse the building. Eighteen police officers were killed instantly, with many more in the hospital. Another two bombings occured at the homes of police chiefs, killing three in total.

[Point Dasch Police Station District 3]

"ALRIGHT! ORDERS JUST CAME IN!"

The men in the equipment room looked up at the officer standing in the door, waiting with anticipation.

"Martial law has been declared. We've got a unit of Murphs, and the Janissaries coming in too. I want everyone on patrol in full gear. This shit is gonna be real hot."

Every weapons locker was open as the troopers gathered their pick of armarment. Assault rifles, shotguns, SMGs, and plenty of body armor were flying off the racks as police prepared for what was sure to be a violent conflict.

Anyone carrying arms was to be given one warning, and then killed. And killing there was.

[Peringeln Complex]

"Wow... Man, though, I wonder how long its going to take before they track us down?"

The EF members looked in awe at the equipment as they transferred it. It was real milspec stuff, enough to deal with the cops and the Murphs anyway. And then someone came running into the room.

"Alright, everyone listen up! Point Dasch City-State is now under martial law! The pigs killed over 120 of our boys, but they're fighting back and they need help! It's two hours to here."

Everyone looked at agent OB-2452.

"Your plan of action, sir?"