NationStates Jolt Archive

With the economy in ruins, Athiesism drastically downsizes its military. Looking for a cheaper alternative to defend against religious fanatic terrorists, they turn to a new source- the International Counterterrorist Directive (ICD).

With threats emerging all over the world, Athiesism invests over two billion dollars in much-needed hard currency in a life-or-death attempt to form this new line of defense. Intended to deal with threats before they emerge, the ICD selects the most intelligent men it can find from civillian or military life and, in a two-year program, roots out all but 30 of them in a grueling selection process meant to root out all but the most flexible, creative, and fit for the task candidates. (Secret IC:) It then sends them far across the world, intent on securing the nation from troubles both domestic and international.

United Specopscom is offering assistance in the training of your unit and would like to discuss annual cross-training between our countries. United Specopscom has two anti-terror units operating at this time at 100%. These two units have an unprecedented mission accomplishment of 100%.
United Specopscom awaits word from your governments leaders on this issue.

OOC- My anti-terror units are based on the United States Rangers, Green Berets, and Navy Seals. I incorporated training aspects from all three units into the training of my anti-terror units. Anti-terror is different from counter-terror as anti-terror goes after and assaults terrorists before they do anything. Counter-terror units only react to terrorists attacks.

These are basically covert operatives, but I guess we could use a few commandoes. A training agreement would benefit both of us.

To: Athiesism
From: SkyCapt Foreign Intelligence Agency

As we have begun intelligence operations in various nations (as seen in Kryos' invasion), we can provide contacts for your operatives, and supply weapons and ammunition, as well.

The Rogue State of Phaelemium pledges its support to Athiesism.

We will supply you with 1,000 handpicked security personnel that you can train into counter-terrorist operatives.
Though small as a nation, we specialize in Military Intelligence and Espionage.

Regards,
Anarchist Leader Phaelemus

The Kingdom of Philthealbino:

We, The Kingdom of Philthealbino, offer training from our Elite Special Boat Service, which rate as among the best in the world for Covert Operations.

Liegh Smith.
War Minister.

All offers are accepted. The new ICD is essential for our survival in these times. Conventional forces have mattered less to us now that our main enemy is terrorism.

Meanwhile...

As part of Operation Bobcat, designed to root religious insurgents out of their hiding places in our country's jungles, several agents were dispatched on assignment to spy on, decieve and assasinate the religious militant fanatics...

Krashnok Jungles

FOR MILES AROUND YOU there wasn't another human. Plenty of animals, but noone lived here. That's what you thought when you came here. Jungles were simply too brutal, too unfamiliar, too unfriendly for humans to be. At least that's what everyone thought. It's strange that everyone assumes that just because animals live there, we couldn't. Most humans thought that they were soft, but that was what made them soft. ICD agents weren't.

And neither where their enemies. The Army of God had supposedly set up a camp somewhere around here. But it wasn't an important detail. What was going to be the center of attention was a tall, slightly fat man carrying a heavy briefcase. If you would have looked at him, you would never think that he could have soo much on his mind this second.

Hermann D. Koch was his name, supposedly. The chubby, wavy-haired German was here today on behalf of the German steel company Rheinmetal, selling mortar tubes to the nutcases. That was what he called them, but not to their faces. And especially not now, when he sat between two of them in a jeep, the muzzles of their rifles jabbing into them as they hit bumps on the road. He hated it, but it wasn't worth telling them. The fanatics did not take lightly to insults.

The trees flew past, until finally the road led to a small house. "Shack" might be a better word. What a grand house for Ayatollah Fakir. That little fucker. The jeep's windshield had a small photograph of him in one corner, holding a gun in the background and pretending to lead the troops in the foreground into battle. It had to be doctored- Fakir was far too old to do that kind of stuff, even if he built up the courage to do it.

Koch's head smacked into the seat in front of him as the driver slammed the breaks. He had to stay in character- it was crucial that noone noticed anything. Being the pussy of a businessman he was, Hermann felt his forhead. Drawing his hand away, he saw blood on his fingers. A tear rolled down his cheek. Angry, the guard sitting next to him yelled and tried to push him out of the jeep. Getting up but with a fearful expression, Koch complied and walked out. An excellent performance.

Looking up from his hand when he heard the door open, he saw an old, red-bearded man walk out the door. He had to be at least 60. Koch could almost hear the creaking of Fakir's ancient body as wrinkles formed around his lips. Fakir curled his lips into a smile upon seeing the new arms supplier. "Come inside! Come inside!" he said, gesturing with his hands. Still angry after his uncomfortable ride, Koch bore a nuetral expression as he came through the door.

Inside was a surprisingly small living room, about half the size of a large bathroom in most houses. Two couches sat there, facing each other. Between them was a small, well-used wooden table, and on it rested a blue cup filled with fruit juice. The religious militants didn't drink.

"So, my friend, is there anything you want? Milk? Coca-Cola?" Fakir's accent was light, and his english was surprisingly good even though he fumbled "Coca-Cola". "I'm fine," Hermann replied, taking a seat on the couch nearest the door. To his right was the entrance door, plus two other doors, presumably one going to the restroom and the other to some kind of pantry where Fakir's refreshment had come from. Still appearing bedraggled, Hermann sighed.

"Take it easy, friend! What do you have for us?" Koch lugged the heavy briefcase onto the couch beside him and opened it so that the Ayatollah could see. Inside was a pile of papers, the top one with endless lines of writing on it. "This is the eighty-one milimeter mortar we discussed," Hermann stated, sorting through the papers, trying to find a shematic. "No need to look for the details. Tell us how much it costs," Fakir remarked, speaking in a slightly rasping voice.

His eyes looked at Hermann's face, and then slowly moved down until they focused on a poorly-concealed firearm in Koch's inside coat pocket. Almost instinctively, he threw forward his arm and grabbed it. The German was caught off guard as he continued to sort through the papers. Pulling the pistol out and into Hermann's face, Fakir put on a stern expression. "You lying sonofabitch! You liar!"

Horrified, Koch was totally speechless. "I... ah..." The Ayatollah was smiling, his wrinkles showing once again. "I think I'll take this. Go on." Withrawing the gun, Fakir kept grinning. He had got him. "It... it was for... for self-defence. You know how dangerous--" Babbling unconrollably, Hermann kept going until he was told to shut up. "Let's hear more about your mortar." Fakir's grin dissapeared.

This guy was good. Noone ever thought that one of the fanatics would notice the well-hidden pistol. So much for the plan.

Recovering, the German representative continued, this time a little bit more cautious and with a little bit more studdering. The fanatic left the gun beside him on the couch, tempting his guest to try and grab it back.

After haggling over the price of the mortars he was supposed to sell, Koch stopped to ask a question. "I'm sorry, sir, I need to get some fresh air. You can stay here and look over the specifications." Once more, Fakir grinned. "I'd rather you not." The German knew what he was thinking- when you're dealing with someone who might try to kill you, never let them go outside to grab their gun.

This was going to be difficult. The fanatic knew all the tricks. As the two men continued a lighthearted conversation, the tension eased somewhat. They even shared a few laughs.

"Excuse me, my friend, but if it isn't a problem I prefer to use the restroom," Hermann said, smoothly placing the briefcase on Fakir's lap. Fakir had no weapons hidden there, so he didn't have to worry about his guest finding any. "Go ahead. It's the door on the left." Getting up, Koch thanked him and opened the door, watching through the corner of his eye as his host sorted through the papers, looking confused by the technical details.

The restroom was small and decrepit, but had a large window. That was his escape. Carefully, as to avoid making a noise, he opened it and punched out the mosquito net covering it. "Hermann?" Fakir heard the noise and was wondering what was going on. Koch jumped through the window, his large frame disguising his acrobatic ability. Falling on his stomach onto the soft ground, he pulled the detonator from his pocket and slammed down the button as hard as he could.

A devastating blast erupted from the suitcase and filled Fakir's body with shrapnel. He wanted to scream, but a metal dart cut through his windpipe. Falling over, he sat there, bleeding. It was not a "clean kill"- the rebels would have no doubt that it had been an assasination by the ICD. But they would now be one leader short.

We would be a much better place to have your people trained. But send a lot cause some wont come back.

OOC: I think he's an MT Nation, and I think your technology is Future Tech.

OOC: ya sorry sep.

Actaully, we just now met with these aliens ("The Eternals", RPed by The Scandanavians, I can give you a link to the thread but I know it sounds wierd), and they gave us FT. So we're basically an MT country with FT tech.

edit:

Here's what I was talking about:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=444710&page=2&highlight=athiesism

OOC: Well, some bigger nations have FT tech as well, SkyCapt included. (Look through some of the FT Storefronts, primarily Waldenburg 2's and Calpe's)