NationStates Jolt Archive

Ride the Lightning

I would usually post some introduction to the RP but I have something better to post. In an abridged version, here is the history of the Empire of Layarteb.

The Empire of Layarteb, is a conservative, authoritarian state ruled by the Emperor. The Empire is the third generation, more or less, in the land of Layarteb. Currently, the Empire consists of four provinces and two republics at over 9,000,000 km². At one time, however, the land of Layarteb was limited to under 150,000 km².

The land of Layarteb dates back to ancient times. Until 1157 A.D., the land was under the jurisdiction of the Dominion of Tnemrot. Prior to 1157 A.D., the land was mainly under the governing system of stationary tribes. Tribes were pagan by nature and centered on the village elder. The earliest recorded history dates back to the year 2,000 B.C. with more common occurances in the 500s A.D. Not much is known about history prior to 1157 A.D. due to the loss of records and manuscripts. In 1157 A.D., the Layartebians were centered around four main tribes: the Scythes, the Grunts, the Malays, and the Uzbeks. The most powerful of these four, the Scythes declared independence for the land of Layarteb from the Dominion of Tnemrot. All four houses were united and this saw the onset of a bloody war for independence that lasted until 1215 A.D. The Dominion of Tnemrot was defeated at a large battle where Layarteb City now stands.

Following the end of the war for independence, the four tribes split up the land of Layarteb, which was, more or less, the area of modern New York. The Scythes took the south, the Uzbeks the north, the Grunts the center and east, and the Malays took the west. The four tribes co-existed with only minor border clashes. In the early 1400s, the Scythes built a massive, superior castle on Governor's Island in Layarteb City. In 1457, the Scythes declared themselves the true ruling family of Layarteb. This brought the onset of an even bloodier civil war that began in 1457 and lasted until the late 1700s. The Uzbeks were the first to fall, in 1515. The Malays fell in the year 1683 and finally, between 1770 and 1789, the Grunts were defeated. Following this defeat, the Scythes set up an entirely new governmental system.

In 1791, the Republic of Layarteb was declared. Between 1791 and 1980, the Republic of Layarteb flourished, becomming one of the most powerful countries in the world. The Republic of Layarteb expanded to include the modern-day states of New York, New Jersey, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Massaschussets, and Connecticut.

In 1980, the Republic fell during a bloody, 3 year civil war and was instantly proclaimed the Empire of Layarteb following the defeat of the President. Within several years, the Empire effectively doubled its military force and in 1983, annexed South Eastern Virginia in the northern South America, taking with it, Venezuela. It was at this time that the northern neighbor, the Free Land of Dnalkrad felt extremely threatened. After the seizure of the Layartebian embassy, the Empire waged full-scale war on Dnalkrad, capturing it in almost three months total. With it came the land of Labrador and Newfoundland in 1986. Throughout the late 1980s and early 1990s, the Empire annexed more and more land in northern South America and eastern North America. In 1994, the Empire began conquest of Central America and by 1996 all of Central America south of Mexico and north of Colombia was in their control. At the same time, Colombia, French Guiana, Suriname, Guyana, and Ecuador came into control of the Empire. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the Emprie would gain control of all of North America east of the Mississippi River, Baffin Island, Prince Charles Island, Iceland, most of Ireland, Greenland, and several Caribbean Islands.

In 2001, the Republic of Kaliningrad, the third republic of the Empire, was granted quasi-independence and sold to the land of North Germania following a bloody insurrection, which saw the leveling of the country and many, many deaths.

As of current, the Empire of Layarteb flourishes with the Emperor leading from Layarteb City, living in the same castle that was proclaimed home in 1457 by the Scythes.

Before you read please do not pass any judgement that this will be a pathetic post. If you must have a reference, please go to to the list below and you will see the abilities of me to tell a story. I am a writer.
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Legend
All text in red type is top secret classified. It is unknown to the normal reader and even anyone else other than those present in the text. All are loyal to the government so please none of that, "We had spies" nonsense because I'm going to ignore it.

Italic text is text that is speech. It is italic to differentiate from normal text.

Italic underlined text is thought.

Orange text is a memory.

Green text is documents, communications, etc.

Bold, green text in quote form is used to mean something that isn't in the document.

Blue text is just a minor announcement.

Bold, blue text is a service announcement meant in OOC form

Bold, gray text is a translation. (Note obsolete after Page 16)

Small text is a translation.

Small, bold text is OOC.
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Notes

This will be updated on a irregular basis. If you see a lapse then by all means, bump the topic. Pictures may be included with horrible images of death. The RP will be R-rated. I will not delve into the realm of sexual acts such as rape and the like because they are just unnecessary but there may be elusions to horrid acts. There will be profanity and there will be gore. I am warning you of all of this because I feel that if you do not like it then this is your chance to avoid reading it. There won't be any surprises. If there is ever something that violates NS rules (and no nothing illegal will be had here) please inform me and I'll take care of it. If you are offended don't read! Simple as that.
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Other Role-Playing Stories

Ascensión (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509447)
Down with the Sickness (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=432254)
Isla del Enfermo (Earth II) (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=398102)
La Guerra que no Hombre Debe Saber (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=434657)
Sehnsucht für das Glück (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=386920)
Tale of the Time: Ancient Secrets Found in Yucatán... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=409829)
Tale of the Wicked: An Empire Within... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=486764)
The Decayed (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=474683)
The Forsaken Island (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=442286)
The Kingdom of Forgotten Warriors (Earth II) (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=380343)
The Knight of Dark Chaos (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384906)
The Layartebian Chronicles (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=384916)
The Praetorian Project (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=450228)

Table of Contents

Part I: The Prelude (Brothers in Arms)

Chapter I: Faint & Numb (Page 1)
Chapter II: Frantic
Chapter III: Estranged (Page 3)
Chapter IV: Overburdened
Chapter V: Rosenrot (Page 4)
Chapter VI: Precious (Page 5)
Chapter VII: Colorblind (Page 10)
Chapter VIII: Gone Away (Page 13)


Part II: The Exposition (Twilight Zone)

Chapter IX: Greed & Serenity (Page 14)
Chapter X: Bleed the Freak
Chapter XI: Goodbye For Now (Page 15)
Chapter XII: Fall to Pieces (Page 18)
Chapter XIII: Bleeding Me (Page 19)
Chapter XIV: Stillborn (Page 21)
Chapter XV: Cowboys From Hell (Page 23)
Chapter XVI: Sehnsucht (Page 27)


Part III: The Interlude (Down with the Sickness)

Chapter XVII: Ugly & Damaged (Page 29)
Chapter XVIII: Long Way Down (Page 30)
Chapter XIX: Night Train (Page 34)
Chapter XX: November Rain (Page 39)
Chapter XXI: Kashmir (Page 41)
Chapter XXII: Trapped Under Ice (Page 43)
Chapter XXIII: Comfortable Liar (Page 45)
Chapter XXIV: Highway to Hell


Part IV: The Recapitulation (All Along the Watchtower)

Chapter XXV: The Diary of Jane & Dance with the Devil (Page 47)

OOC: Next to your IM and this, I have concluded you are a fan of Metallica....hmmm. Nice anyways, sorry for the bugging.

..::.. Reserved ..::..

Chapter I: Faint & Numb

"That storm overhead is getting stronger. It's only a matter of time before she dumps on us. Think we'll be done by then?" A tall, unshaved man said as he looked up at the rolling clouds overhead. It was just before night time, a massive thunderstorm was rolling in, bringing with it rain, wind, lightning, thunder, and probably hail. He was sitting outside in the backyard of his house with another man, both drinking beer. The other man was shorter, shaven, but pale and sickly looking.

"Doubtful. That's a ton of stuff, no joke. Whenever Brian gets here with the truck we'll have this done, whenever that is."

"He's late. It's a quarter to eight. Where is he?"

"Traffic?"

"The place closed at five. Three hours of traffic?"

"Who knows, you know how it is on a Saturday evening."

"I know. Did you call him?"

"About five times now. He doesn't answer."

"Think something happened?"

"I don't know. I told him to keep a lot profile. Driving a U-Haul truck is high profile to begin with."

"Yeah well you know he's a screw up sometimes."

"Understood. I just want to get this done before the storm hits. It's looking like a big one coming."

"You and I both. Is everything ready?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

The two men were Jacob and Steve. Jacob was the sickly looking one, Steve the taller of the two. They were brothers, not by blood, but by trade and by philosophy. They were both part of the same group, an elite club, more or less, but nothing like a club. They were two of twenty-two thousand, all of whom were big into history, the history of the Empire for one. They enjoyed pre-Empire history, when Layarteb was a Republic, in the days when democracy ruled, not authoritarianism. These men and women, all twenty-two thousand of them studied revolutionary philosophy, revolutionary writings, revolutionary methods. War had been brewing for years, ever since the Empire expanded well beyond its borders, southward, northward, and eastward. Everything spawed when the War with Dnalkrad began. The justification for war was the seizure of the Layartebian embassy, rightful and just. However, the embassy wasn't seized by Dnalkradian soldiers. It had actually been seized by elite, Layartebian black ops. Rumors had it that the soldiers were Layartebian, even though it could never be proven. They wore Dnalkradian uniforms, spoke in their dialect of English, acted like their soldiers, and even killed a few workers as well as seized the documents. No shred of evidence except rumors were that the soldiers were Layartebian. Nonetheless, the soldiers did give away one sign, one flaw in their entire operation. It wasn't enough to justify an investigation but for the people there, Jacob being one of them, it was a give away, but only for those paying attention.

One of the soldiers, just before he shot one of the embassy workers point-blank with a Colt 45 pistol, said something that was something that he had only heard once before, during the revolution. The soldier said, in a straight, powerful voiceful, "So I dub thee forsaken." The saying had been said by the Emperor and his band of elite assassins whenever they had a hit. The soldiers were not soldiers, they were cold-blooded killers. They went around to leaders of the Republic and shot them, hanged them, killed them, and tortured them. They did it to their families too. But they always said, whenever they did the hit, "So I dub thee forsaken." They said it each and every time. When Jacob heard it he knew. This war wasn't a war, it was greed and lust for power, for land, for domination.

Since then, which was some twenty years ago, he had been brewing, studying, formulating. He joined with people left and right, watched the history of the Empire, watched the progression of events. He paid full attention to the news, to the quests. He watched as Layartebian soldiers conquered more of South America, Central America, Ireland, Iceland, more territories in the north, and more and more land, going from a few hundred thousand square kilometers to over nine million.

Throughout the years he adopted a policy, a philosophy that he called, "New Water, Old Republic." It was a revolutionary philosophy that would see the Empire fall, the Republic reinstated, and the entire chain of events over the past twenty-five years erased and removed from the history books.

Now they were waiting on a U-Haul van, with a cargo capacity of 2,230 pounds, which they would use to create one of the largest car bombs in recent history. Their target was a major government building, in downtown Layarteb City. The building was the Ministry of Intelligence, very well guarded, very well manned, and very well protected. They would, essentially, using forged and stolen documents, would claim the van was carrying top-secret documents, primarily embassy files. The van would be searched, that was when the explosives would go off. Jacob already knew he had to sacrifice himself for the cause and he would sacrifice himself and only himself. He formulated the philosophy, he created the philosophy, and he passed it down. His entire upper echelon had been taught the philosophy, they believed it, and they would carry it through. Jacob had no aspirations to fame, fortune, or power. All he wanted was to do the right thing, which was, sadly, setting off the first shots of the revolution.

He didn't expect the revolution to be won overnight or to get going overnight. He had a bigger problem anyway. He was dying, dying of cancer. The doctors gave him three months to live, seventeen months ago. He had faught on though, fought on hard, very hard. Now, he was staring down death so he wanted to go out his way, blowing up a central enemy target in the process. The bomb would be enough to level the building and that was what they wanted, to completely level the whole building, and with it the documents, the papers, and the data. That was the goal, whether or not it would work was left to the birds but they would have to do their best.

Brian pulled up with the truck at a quarter after eight. As he backed into the driveway and stepped out, he saw both Jacob and Steve looking at him with disappointment. "Took you long enough! Did you build the thing!" Steve said as he inspected the truck.

"Sorry. There was a massive tanker fire on the highway. Whole thing was shut down."

"Good job asshole. Take the one route with the tanker fire."

"Because I fucking knew it would happen." Brian and Steve were always at each others' throats. Had it not been for the fact that both of them knew chemistry well and worked together on the project, they would have, most likely, by now, killed each other.

"Knock it off!" Jacob said as he opened up the back doors. "Let's get it loaded!"

"Sure." Brian said, staring right into Steve. "Let's do it." Brian got back into the truck and backed it into the garage, where the door was shut, and they were in total privacy. It would take most of the night to load the truck with the explosives, which were, more or less, loaded in heavy-duty cardboard boxes, make to look like filing boxes. They would have to wire everything together, the wires being hidden underneath everything. Then, lastly, they would wire the door so that if the door was opened, the explosives would detonate, which would allow them to blow up the van during inspection without being noticed. In the past, in wars, the Layartebians had become very wary about truck and car bombs, the driver often having a trigger in their hand. Many of the attempts were spoiled before they could ever take place. They planned to make that problem non-existent.

The moving took most of the night and when they were done, the house was empty. It wouldn't take long before the police and other authorities figured out that Jacob was part of it and searched his house. They would find nothing. Anything of value had been moved out and traded away, sold, and what not. They made a fortune off the money, even the house, having sold it the previous week to a private buyer, a couple with two children. They wouldn't move in for a few weeks and though Jacob didn't wish upon them what would happen to the house when the authorities raided it, it was for the cause.

Around 0425, they were ready to go. Traffic was limited and collateral damage would be minimal. They didn't want a lot of collateral damage, just the target building. They said their goodbyes and Jacob climbed into the drivers seat of the van. It was heavy and loaded. He pulled out and began on his journey towards the west, towards Layarteb City, towards the Ministry of Intelligence.

He would head down to the Brooklyn Bridge and travel westward over it, into the portion of Manhattan Island. The Ministry of Intelligence was near West Houston Street, not far from the bridge, maybe a mile or more from the bridge. The traffic would be light, non-existent if any.

He turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge shortly before 0500, the sun dawning in the distance, behind him. But, time wasn't on his side. Inside his body, his cancer was attacking his spinal chord fiercly, cutting it with each second. This would be his final hour. As he turned off the Brooklyn Bridge and got onto the main streets, the cancer to work and finally severed his spinal chord between his heart and his legs. All of a sudden, his legs didn't work and he worked frantically to push down on the pedals, focusing more on that than on the road. He never saw it coming and he drifted over the double yellow line, into oncoming traffic. Though his vehicle was slowing, coming down from 40 miles per hour, he had no control over it.

He smashed head first into a governmental Suburban. It just happened to be the car of the Minister of Intelligence and the impact was at the force of about fifty miles per hour. Instantly, the van lost the battle and was pushed backwards, back into its lane. Two cars, both smaller and less powerful vehicles, smashed into the rear and the side of the van, which immediately countered and tipped the van over onto its side. Thus far, the doors had not opened. Unfortunately though, as the van smashed onto the ground, on its side, the doors disconnected with each other and instantly, without a moment's breath, the explosives detonated, all two thousand pounds of them, right in front of one of the newspaper offices for the Layarteb News Network.

The van was closer to the newspaper office than the building on the other side of the street, which was a large firm for lawyers, pity. The blast shattered windows, almost instantly, for a square kilometer and the wave continued, shaking structures and shattering windows as far as six miles away. The explosion did nothing short of level the newspaper office, its adjacent apartment building, and heavily damaged the lawyers firm across the street. All structures within a one thousand square foot radius suffered structural damage in some way or another, everything within five hundred feet suffering heavy to total failure.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/car_bomb_smoke.jpg
Car bomb burning at 0800 the next morning.

Central Tennessee

ICBM Complex 1511 was quiet. It was masked by rural terrain, mountains, and dense forest. The base was home to some eighty-four silos, a medium sized complex. In the Empire, there were four types of ICBM complexes. Small complexes had between ten and twenty-five silos. Medium complexes had between twenty-six and one hundred silos. Large complexes had over a hundred and one silos. Lastly, there were outpost complexes, which carried under ten silos and basically were small and easier to hide, giving the Empire advanced and excellent capabilities against an enemy. If a major site were to be hit, the outpost sites could be used to launch devestating strikes against an enemy.

Based at Complex 1511 were three types of missiles. There were twenty-four LGM-30H Minuteman IV missiles, forty LGM-174A Satan missiles, and forty LGM-174B Satan missiles. Between all eighty-four missiles there were five hundred and twelve warheads and a total yield of 2,439.6 megatons. This was more than enough to wipe out even the largest of countries. The three types of missiles were built for one purpose and one purpose only, deep-strike, hard-target, advanced destruction. All of the missiles were meant to fly long-range, through some of the most advanced anti-ballistic missile nets, and into the most well defended cities or deepest buried targets.

The complex was manned by one hundred and sixty soldiers. Sixteen of them were part of Force Red Cell. Force Red Cell is a Black Operations unit made up of highly trained and elite soldiers. Their duty is to test the security of the most advanced facilities in the Empire, military and government included. They also were internal affairs-type soldiers. They kept tabs on corrupt base commanders and arrested those who were either spies, corrupt, or treasonous. Every major airbase, army base, naval base, ICBM complex, and so on and so fourth had at least eight men of Force Red Cell as part of the staff. Other staff members were completely unaware and would always remain unaware. If they found out who the members were, they would either be removed or silenced. The fate of the military and its power rested on the ability of Force Red Cell to maintain the integrity of them.

The base commander here was Colonel Martin Jessup, a lifer in the Space Division. The Colonel was a calculating man, an individual who knew his duty, in the event of a war. He knew what buttons he would have to push, what codes he would have to enter, and what his responsibilities to his men would be, he knew it all. However, he was assisted by a jumpy, irrational, and aggrevating man. The executive officer of the base was Lieutenant Colonel Tom Dodge, a man who lacked any necessary skill needed to run this base, let alone any missile base. LTC. Dodge was a tricky man to deal with. He had gotten into the service when he was conscripted at 18. He earned his officers commission from his father's favors. His father had been a great soldier during the revolution but his son was a failure. He had gotten into drugs at an early age and his father put him into the military to straighten him out. He called in favors to advance him in rank, hoping it would knock some sense into the boy. It never did. Now he was second in charge of a missile base housing eighty-four missiles, nearly twenty-five hundred megatons of destructive power.

LTC. Dodge was a kid compared to COL. Jessup. They had a ten year age difference. LTC. Dodge was one of the youngest lieutenant colonel's in the Space Division, let alone the military. LTC. Dodge also had a dark side to himself, aside from the blithering idiot side. He hated, amongst all other things, the people of the country of Elephantum. He loathed them in every way, shape, and form. He also particularly hated the Carthiginian people as well. As far as he wanted, both countries could just disappear off the face of the Earth and it would make him happy.

LTC. Dodge knew the massive amounts of firepower under his belt and he knew that he had one half of the ability to do his bidding. The other half rested with COL. Jessup. Between the two of them, they each had twenty-five numbers and letters in a fifty character launch code necessary to activate the missiles. They also needed an eye-scan and a fingerprint scan in order to activate the missiles, three necessary factors. It would also require the Emperor's authorization, which would come through a coded message box inside the control room.

LTC. Dodge had planned his attack, his masterminded plan, very well over the past year that he had been at that post. He and his little group of cohorts that he managed to have assigned to his post and that he managed to recruit numbered forty, including himself. This went against at least sixty he knew to be die hard supporters of the colonel. The other sixty were, on the fence, he concluded. He figured that, at the very least, he could run the complex and launch its missiles with no fewer than seventeen people. The rest were all expendable. He and his band of cohorts had access to the armory on the base, which included enough ammunition and weaponry to defend the base against an invasion force in the area of up to five hundred people, providing all one hundred and sixty individuals manned a weapon. Given his only having forty, it would allow them to fight against far more, even though that was not necessary.

Shortly into the day of October 11, LTC. Dodge began the final steps of his take over of the missile base. The Empire was feeling terrible that day. A massive car bombing had gone off the day before in Layarteb City, killing eight, including the Minister of Intelligence. Eleven more were injured and two structures had collapsed. The massive bomb was equal to almost two thousand pounds of Semtex. The bomb was very powerful, more powerful than had been seen in any recent years.

It was barely 0300 when LTC. Dodge called his band of bastards, so to speak, to help him. As he walked towards the colonel's quarters, his inner circle in tow, he aroused little suspicion. Few people outside his circle of forty knew what he was about. He could have been going to the briefing room, something not uncommon. At 0310, he knocked on colonel's door. Within seconds, the colonel opened it, looking at LTC. Dodge with an eerie look. "It's three in the morning. What is it?" He said with frustration. The two of them shared responsibilty for overwatch. Between 0001 and 1200, the lieutenant colonel was in charge. During 1201 to 0000, the colonel was in charge. In the event of something major during the hours that the lieutenant colonel was in charge, the colonel could be mustered.

"Sir, if I may have a word?" The colonel could only see LTC. Dodge, not the men behind him. "It's important sir. I got a message from the Ministry of Defense." He held out a piece of paper, folded professionally, inside an envelope.

"Fine." He let him in and as he was handed the envelope, he turned his back. "Shut the door."

"Yes sir." He did, after two of his men walked in with him.

As the colonel opened the envelope he saw the paper was blank. "What the hell is this!" As he turned around he caught a swift punch across his jaw, knocking him over, onto his bed. "You little ingrate!" He screamed as he got his footing. He was staring at the barrels of three M33A2 Pistols, each one loaded with twelve .45ACP rounds, each one capable of putting his lights out with a single shot. "So you have finally convinced enough people to join your madness." The colonel knew. He had made six requests to have LTC. Dodge transferred out of missile duty, all of them rejected by his commanding officer, LTC. Dodge's father.

"You know why I am here."

"I do. You want the codes. The eyeball. The fingerprints."

"I want them yes."

"You can dream all you want."

"Your eyeball is easy. I'll cut it out. Your fingerprints are easy, I'll cut off your hand. And if you give me the codes I'll let you live."

"Live? Why would I want to live in a world that doesn't exist after you send eighty-four missiles to massive powers in the world. It'll guarantee retaliation. How many lives are you going to kill just to see your irrational quest follow through? How many lives of our own must die."

"As many as it takes. The greater good is upon us. Now Colonel. Enough with the chit-chat. The code please."

"A cold day in hell." The Colonel spat on him. At the same time he sat down on his bed and laid down. He reached back, his hands underneath his pillow. Everyone shuddered. "What do you think, I have a gun here?" Why would I sleep with a gun under my pillow. Here I'll lift it." He did, slowly, hiding a small capsul in his hand as he did. There was no gun.

"So where is it?"

"The gun?"

"Yes."

"You would like to know wouldn't you?"

"I would."

"It's far away. I can't reach it. But this I can." Instantly, he threw the capsul in his mouth. "May God Bless My Soul." He said to himself. Within seconds, the poison was acting on him.

"You fool!" LTC. Dodge screamed as the colonel succombed to the pain and poison, dying there on his bed, comfortable, albeit, from his own hand.

OoC: I get a strange feeling of deja-vu from the last post.... where have I read it before...?

Dr. Joseph Waters was an esteemed, well-renowned, and well-respected individual at Layarteb City University, the most prestigious university in the entire Empire and one of the best in the world. Dr. Waters taught philosophy, political science, history, and public administration courses. He was a rennaissance man, almost. He was one of the elites of the Empire of Layarteb and had written, in his fifty-two years of existence, seventeen major novels on philosophy, thirteen on political thought, and another sixty-two on history. He'd written an article for almost every newspaper and magazine at least five times and his name was a household item. Many said that he would replace the Minister of Education one day but that was all speculation.

Dr. Waters, like the rest of the male population, served in the military. He enlisted when he was eighteen, a kid who wanted nothing more than to escape school and his parents. The Empire was still a Republic then. It was 1971 and he was nine years away from seeing the Republic crash. He served his four years in the armored cavalry. When he got out, he had a bachelors degree and by the time the revolution hit, he was in the process of studying for his PhD. He chose no side in the revolution. He knew the Emperor and his forces were going to win, they were just far too powerful and the Republic was far too weak. He also knew that he wanted the Republic. Unfortunately, for him, declaring his allegiance to the Republic meant that when it fell, so would he. So, thinking to the future, he kept his neutrality.

Dr. Waters took a teaching position at Layarteb City University (or the University of Layarteb) shortly after he got his PhD in 1984. Since then he taught a lot about revolution, history, and political thought. He only recently began teaching philosophy and public administration, which more or less came as a mandate from the Ministry of Education.

Dr. Waters, like many others, had a dark secret. His classes taught a lot about how to start a revolution, how they worked, and so on and so fourth. He was, secretly, teaching how to overthrow the Emperor and his Empire and reinstate the Republic. He taught a lot about that and he had, effectively, taught about 70% of the main revolutionary body that was currently conspiring against the Emperor.

When the car bomb went off on the morning of the tenth, he knew exactly what it was. He was, after all, the spiritual, so to speak, mentor of the revolution. The individuals responsible were part of the team and he knew them all personally, though they kept their meetings as secret and scarce as possible. The revolutionary body consisted of about two hundred thousand individuals spread out across the Empire, though at least forty percent of them were focused on Layarteb City.

Dr. Waters lived in a very lavish, very expensive, very paid for condo in Layarteb City. It was more or less an apartment that he bought from the owner over the years. In it he had a very expensive, also very paid for, communications system that allowed him to talk, securely, with anyone he wanted, provided they had a secure phone, which was easy to do, especially with the rapid boom in technology over the past fifteen years.

Dr. Waters was a good man, at heart. His mind was warped though. He wanted the Republic back and he wanted it back stronger than before. He wanted the Republic to allow the freedom to vote, the freedom to hold office, and the right of the people to decide their top leaders, not just their local leaders, albeit the local ones affected them more than the state ones ever could. He wanted much to see more judicial freedom, more appeals. He basically wanted to see a free state, not an authoritarian dictatorship. He believed that the people could rule for themselves and that they could, effectively, choose the right people to rule for them.

Mid-Atlantic Ridge 30°N, 40°W

The Hunter Class SSN was the most advanced attack submarine in the Layartebian Navy and in the entire world. She was 400 feet long, 45 feet wide, and drafted 32 feet when fully loaded. The 12,500 ton beast was powered by a pair of pebble-bed nuclear reactors, each quieter than a pindrop and each capable of pushing out a 125 megawatts of power. The geared steam turbines that drove the single pumpjet propulsor was rated at a maximum of 80,000 shaft horsepower, enabling the beast to travel as fast as 40 knots. Under 25 knots the submarine sounded as if it weren't moving. With an 80 year fuel supply, 120 day ration supply, the submarine could go anywhere in the world or sit in one place as deep as 2,400 feet and not move. The submarine was a double hulled design, with the space between the hulls being taken up by a gelatin, rubberized material that absorbed a phenomenal amount of sound waves from both inside and outside the submarine. The material was also capable of absorbing the shockwaves from close detonating torpedoes and hurt the abilities of torpedoes to penetrate the hull. The material had one other effect as well. It absorbed much of the external pressure, allowing the submarine to dive so deep. Part of the silent ability of the submarine rested on this material as well as a closed circuit coolant system using freon.

For weaponry, the submarine was equipped with fourteen torpedo tubes, eight external, and sixteen vertical launch tubes. Aside from the fourteen loaded weapons in the torpedo tubes, which could be as wide as 660MM, the submarine could hold up to fifty-two stored weapons. The sixteen vertical launch tubes were all preloaded before the submarine set sail. In addition to its offensive weapons, the defensive weapons suite was just as advanced. The submarine had for, reloadable, two-barrel countermeasure launchers and sixteen external launchers for active or passive decoys.

Crewed by twelve officers and one hundred and twenty men, the $1.8B ship was a marvel of modern technology. No ship in the world would have a chance at detecting her under normal operating conditions let alone sinking it.

Most of the Hunters patrolling the Atlantic recieved a standardized loadout: 26 Mark 55 ADCAP II torpedoes, 2 UGM-176A-2 Tomahawk II TLAM-N nuclear cruise missiles, 6 UGM-176B Tomahawk II TASM anti-ship cruise missiles, 8 UGM-180H Harpoon II anti-ship missiles, 16 UGM-193B Relic anti-ship missiles, 8 UGM-198A Stallion anti-ship missiles, 4 UGM-198B Stallion land-attack missiles, 12 UGM-198C Stallion anti-submarine missiles, and 26 FIM-186A Wizard surface-to-air missiles. Everything but the Tomahawk IIs and the anti-ship Stallions would be carried in the tubes. Generally loaded, externally were four Mark 55 ADCAP II torpedoes and four UGM-198C Stallion anti-submarine missiles. Loaded internally were two UGM-193B Relic anti-ship missiles, two Mark 55 ADCAP II torpedoes, and two UGM-180H Harpoon II anti-ship missiles. This particular Hunter carried just that loadout.

She was sitting at a depth of 1,800 feet, floating its radio buoy, common practice. The crew were at their stations, doing their job and going about their daily activities. In the control room (CONN), the captain, a man by the name of Julius Hammerhead and the executive officer, a lieutenant commander by the name of Steven Fronerelli, stood watch, waiting for the buoy the reach the surface. It was currently rising at a rate of ten feet per second and was only at 1,200 feet. Both of them had served together throughout their entire lives, starting submarine duty on board a Los Angeles Class before the revolution happened. Now they were in command of the most advanced submarine in the fleet, only twenty-eight years later.

Only four days ago the car bombing went off in Layarteb City, the wreckage still being cleaned up. It wasn't included in the news to the submarine in the daily action report as it was considered inconsequential. A single, isolated incident such as that could have had many motivations. It could have been directed at the lawyers' office or the newspaper office, there wasn't any clear evidence either way or even to the true motive of the crime. The authorities had raided the house of the driver and found little there except that it had been sold. They would ask themselves if it was just a crazy act of suicide by a derranged man who was dying of cancer. They had little information either way.

Little did the people on the submarine know that three days ago, on the 11th of October, a missile base in Layarteb was under seige. A distress call was sent out on the 11th that was kept very hush-hush.

When the buoy reached the surface of the water, it immediately began to recieve a coded transmission signal from a satellite high above the planet. The signal was heavily encrypted and would take soem time to decrypt, even though the submarine contained the coded message box. The encryption required the signal transmission to go through the box five times before it spit out the true message. Until then, it would send four false messages that were set to decieve any enemy that caught the transmission.

Emergency Action Message

Proceed to 75°N, 35°W. Hold position. Make best time to location. No hostiles detected. Report on station.

The captain was perplexed by the situation and couldn't think of anything other than getting there. He immediately ordered the buoy to be retracted and the Hunter to go deeper and make top speed to the location. This meant they would be moving at 40 knots, noisy and unable to use their own sonar but they had to get there as fast as possible. Something chaotic was happening.

October 15

The situation at the missile base had not changed. Nobody knew anything and forces inside were either fighting for it or they had completely lost it. Nothing was known, communications had been severed. The Emperor was most worried about the situation and he knew that if the radicals at the missile base succeeded in their operation, they would, effectively, control more weaponry than was necessary to eliminate an entire country. With that he had no choice but to call in his problem solvers.

Colonel Delaney was a man of ages. He had fought with the Emperor as part of their Special Forces detachment during the revolution. Since then, he was the leader of Team One of Force Falcon, the most capable, covert, elite, and deadly eight men in the entire Empire and most likely the world. Their existence was unknown and they had been at nearly every major deployment. They had seen action in Kaliningrad and rescued a hijacked airline shortly after the situation was resolved. They had been to Dnalkrad and fought throughout Ynoga while it was being turned over to the Empire. They fought in Europe and in Russia. They fought everywhere.

Team One served as the personal bodyguards of the Emperor but they also served as a military team and now they would be used in that role. Colonel Delaney was an average looking man, from the outside. He stood 5'8" and was pure muscle. His eyes were green but they rarely were seen from behind his Oakley sunglasses, which he wore day and night. He always stood at attention in front of the Emperor, even though they were men among equals when they fought against the Republic. "Yes sir." He said as he stepped into the office and stood at attention.

"We have a situation in Tennessee. I am sure you are aware."

"I am."

"We have not had any communications with the missile base since the October 11 distress signal. Our monitoring systems have shown that the launch codes have not been compromised. Red Cell units within the base sent a brief report on the 11th that the situation was coming under control but unfortunately a massive thunderstorm has just blanketed the area. I need you and your team to go in and establish communication with the base. Bring a lot of ammunition."

"Yes sir. How are we getting there?"

"You will be deploying to Tennessee Air Force Base via C-17 and then taking a helicopter to the area. You will not have any support."

"Understood. We'll be on it sir."

"Good luck soldier and make it happen." They saluted and Colonel Delaney exited the office and was at the barracks for Force Falcon within twenty minutes. The base was northwest of the city, in Westchester county and he flew there by helicopter. Once he arrived, he briefed his men and they went over the blueprints for the missile base. All of them had a knack for memorization, especially with blueprints, charts, and maps. They would carry maps with them, just in case, but they often never needed them.

Once briefing was over, they loaded up. Colonel Delaney and three others loaded up with M52A1 Carbines, each loaded with a dual thirty-round magazine. They carried another four double magazines for a total of three hundred rounds. Three of them took M33A5 Pistols and Colonel Delaney took an M33A6 Pistol. Each of them carried three M57 Fragmentation grenades, two M58 Stun grenades, and one M61 Incendiary grenade. Aside from that they all were carrying knives, door-breeching charges, small C4 sticky-bombs, lock-picking equipment, camera equipment, and a various assortment of other gadets. Two of the other men loaded up with an assault loadout, carrying an M42 SAW loaded with two hundred rounds. They would carry another six hundred with them. They both took M33A5 Pistols, four M57 Fragmentation grenades and two M61 Incendiary Grenades. Between the other two they carried a single M45 Special Purpose Rifle with fifty rounds, an M53 Shotgun with forty-eight shells, eight M57 Fragmentation grenades, four M58 Incendiary grenades, four M63 Concussion grenades, two M33A1 Pistols, and more explosive charges. All of them would be wearing their high-class body-armor, which was light yet it could handle up to five 7.62 x 39mm rounds at a range of twenty-five meters. The bodyarmor was affectionally called "Interceptor" bodyarmor and was made especially for Special Forces and airborne soldiers. Obviously, Black Ops used them but modified them heavily.

The eight men were ready only four and a half hours after the Emperor had told Colonel Delaney about the mission. Within another three and a half hours, they were on the ground in Tennessee, standing on the tarmac of the airport as a pair of UH-96A Panther helicopters began their engine starts. The eight men would split into two teams and go four in each helicopter. Along with them, a pair of AH-94A Stalker attack helicopters were taking off, most likely for escort. The helicopters were airborne in under three minutes and it was a sixty-mile flight to the missile base, which would take about half an hour at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. They would be dropped off four kilometers away from the missile base, to ensure that they weren't seen. The thunderstorm raging above was fierce and the helicopters were being beaten heavily by the storm winds and rain. Lightning flashed and thunder shook the fuselages. They wouldn't be heard coming in and the limited visibility of the storm would ensure that they would not be seen by any sentry's guarding the outside of the complex, who might be against them.

Team One's mission was to secure the base and make contact with Red Cell operatives inside the base. Their identities were given and the eight men of Team One also knew, basically, who was against them. Red Cell operatives reported that men loyal to the executive officer had removed their flags from their arms and spit on them. Some even pissed on them. Those loyal to the commander and the Empire retained theirs, albeit chances were that if the entire base were compromised, those loyal to the Empire would have removed theirs to blend in and act as revolutionaries, more or less to survive or to maintain control of the facility, in some way.

Athens Air Force Base, Athens, Tennessee, Layarteb

Athens Air Force Base was a quiet place that night, the night of the 15th. The usual four aircraft were on alert, on the runway, sitting silently. Their engines weren't on but ready. All it would take was a simple engine start, throttle up, and go, a five-minute process. The airbase mainly served as a cargo and logistics base but a flight of twelve F-22A Raptors also sat at the base, protecting and escorting the cargo and logistics aircraft. The airbase was protected by multiple defense systems, mainly Equalizer Air Defense systems and Predator systems for point-defense, LAADS systems for expanded defense, SLAMRAAM units for medium defense, and a pair of Patriot sites for long-range defense. All air defense units operated from a central command bunker, located eighty-two feet below the airbase and almost near its perimeter, putting it away from the actual center of the targetting. The entire net was controlled here and linked to the main air defense net of the Empire, which was, to say the least, unfathomable.

Sitting inside the air defense net were forty-five well trained, well experienced, and wide awake personnel pulling an eight-hour shift, watching the airspace for over six hundred miles up to an altitude of 124 miles. After that it was the responsibility of the Space Division. Their main source of tracking was ICBM warheads although they did have a patch into LEO up to 726 miles, which tracked reconnaissance satellites and weapons satellites. They rarely had to pay attention to objects in the LEO range and often not many in the tier underneath. The majority of their activity was still within the atmosphere.

Their airspace track, all 600 miles of it was a lot of airspace to cover. Within fifty miles of the airbase, any aircraft had to get special permission to travel and within ten miles of the airbase was considered a No-Fly Zone for any commerical or private traffic. Flying within that range could result in an aircraft being shot down. So, at 0205, it was no surprise that a commerical track came across the screen of one of the operators. It was a Boeing 777, the flight transponder signal matching the daily list. However, what was even more scary was a second plot, coming in at a steep re-entry angle, moving at high speed. The track was something in the way of a tracked object seen many a times through the anti-stealth system. The operators at the base had never seen it before. The Boeing 777 was moving towards the south, approximately seventy-two miles from the airbase at an altitude of 35,000 feet and a speed of 550 miles per hour.

The operators watched in shock as the object descended on an intercept course with the airliner. All four F-22A Raptors sitting on the ground were immediately dispatched to intercept, each armed with an assortment of six AIM-120D AMRAAMs and two AIM-9X Sidewinders. They would be supersonic in no-time, intercepting the aircraft very quickly, within less than five minutes at an airspeed of 1,000 mph. They were fully loaded with fuel and carried no external drag, meaning that they were quick, sleek, and undetectable.

As the F-22As climbed at full afterburner, the object finally descended on the 777 and, almost instantly, its near uncontrollable descent became the exact speed as the 777, only it hovered five hundred feet above it, on the same course and heading. The operators were beyond shocked and amazed. They watched in horror as the F-22As moved at a speed in excess of 1,000 mph towards the target, hoping to intercept and see just what was going on.

As they flew on, towards the target, they scanned their radars. The only thing they could target was the Boeing 777 and as they approached, moving in from seventy miles, closing on fifteen now, they switched to their datalink. The datalink was tied straight into the air defense net and now they could see two targets, the 777 and an intercept target, which resembled more or less a triangle. It was an odd shaped aircraft and it was hovering over the 777, moving with it.

The F-22As were soon within visual range and they could see, in the full moon, a clear silhouette above the Boeing 777, shadowing it. "Layarteb Airlines Flight 88. This is Raptor Main, ILAF. Report over?" The flight leader on the F-22A flight alerted over the guard channel. There was no response. "LA Flight 88. Raptor Main out of Athens Air Base. Please respond, copy." Once again there was no response. "Raptor Main. Let's pass the aircraft. Two and three pass underneath. Four go starboard. I am going port." The four aircraft assumed position and flew straight past the Boeing 777 and maintained a close intercept, to shadow and escort the aircraft itself. The two fighters underneath the aircraft immediately pulled up into a climb, to get a good view of the craft above it.

There wasn't much to see. But alas, as they pulled through their loop, the aircraft saw very little. There was nothing there to see. Their datalink, as they saw, was now empty. Suddenly, the radio came alive and static went over the guard channel. "Layarteb Airways Flight 88. This is Raptor Main. Respond over."

"Raptor Main. What is going on?"

"Maintain course, heading, and speed. Radar is showing an unidentified bogey shadowing you. Have you any reports of problems?"

"No sir. Unaware of any such instance. Our radar shows nothing."

"The craft is above you."

"Request orders."

"Maintain course, heading, and speed."

"Copy."

"Two. Report craft visual, over."

"Two. Nothing to report sir. It's gone. Datalink shows just five contacts, us and the 777. Over."

"Roger that. Maintain course. Three maintain high. Two take up trail. Four bracket starboard." The aircraft maintained their course and speed. "Athens Main. This is Raptor Main. Successful intercept. No copy on bogey over. Request orders."

"Raptor Main. Athens Main. Escort airliner back to base. Skies unsafe. Over."

"Copy. Out." They immediately kept their course. "Layarteb 88. You are ordered to follow us to Athens Air Force Base. Maintain speed and altitude. Come to heading one-nine-five."

"Copy. Following." They began a southerly course towards the airbase, now closing to some fifty-two miles away. Then, all of a sudden, things took a turn for the worst. Inside the air defense net, someone screamed that the contact was back and within a quarter of a second, all four F-22As were burning, having been lit ablaze by some type of energy weapon, all of them incinerating in mid-air, plummeting back towards the ground, the Tennessee countryside. Then, the craft resumed its previous position, being above the 777 at an altitude five hundred feet above the plane, the plane full of screaming passengers and flight attendants who knew very little about what to do in this type of situation. They tried to maintain some semblance of order but panic engulfed the cabins.

"The craft is engaging!" One of the operators in the bunker screamed. "That 777 is going to go down too!"

"Ready battery one. Launch two MIM-104I Patriots immediately. Guidance datalink!"

"Yes sir! Missiles sync'ing up now sir!"

"Battery one reports ready. Missiles locked!"

"Fire!"

"FIRING!" Sixteen miles away from the airbase, battery one - Patriot launcher was sitting quietly. The sixteen firing units were all silent, quiet. The uplink trailer was quiet as well and only the hum of the power generator filled the night air. Then, suddenly, a bright green flash erupted from the site and illuminated everything for a quarter mile. The ground shook and two launchers shook as their canisters rumbled. Immediately, a missile was ejected from each one, trailing a bright, green flame behind it. The missiles arched upwards at near 80°, heading for the sky, accelerating with such force and momentum it would tear the skin off one's face.

The smoke trail was barely anything and the site was suddenly quiet again, the two missiles climbing to an altitude high above the craft. They would loft high and come down on their targets, giving them a much increased range and even more kinetic energy given the steep attack angle. Using fins and thrust vectoring, they were highly agile.

The missiles shot upwards, accelerating past the speed of sound before they reached 5,000 feet, moving upwards faster and faster, passing by 20,000 feet, passing by 50,000 feet, and up to 95,000 feet, where it would be moving at a speed of Mach 6.25. The missile would travel towards the target and dive on it as it approached, hitting in the center of mass. Usually it would be a proximity hit but the Patriot PAC-4 was loaded with a kinetic energy, hit-to-kill warhead. This meant that it would get a direct hit.

The airliner was a mere forty-two miles away when the missiles intercepted. They dove down on their targets, using the datalink to determine which aircraft to go after. Radar showed only the 777, not the intercepting craft above it. This was dangerous.

As the missiles came down 60,000 feet, from 95,000 feet, the craft above the 777 suddenly, and violently moved away with such speed and force that the missiles never had time to react. Instead, one went haywire and completely missed the airliner, exploding at 10,000 feet, after it had missed by far. The second, on the other hand, correctly slightly and impacted the airliner in the rear, completely vaporizing the tail of the aircraft, along with it, the black boxes. With the tail severed, the aircraft went into instant depressurization, sucking out everyone and everything not held down. Given the weakness of the fuselage, from the missile strike, rear seats suddenly ripped up from the ground and flung backwards, their passengers inside. At that altitude the temperature was -70°F, freezing people almost instantly. There was no way to breathe in the low air density.

Many of the individuals would land dozens of miles away, frozen, having died long before they hit the ground. The aircraft twisted over, corkscrewing as it plummeted towards the ground, picking up more and more speed. At 18,000 feet, the wings exploded off, the stress of supersonic flight being too much. The fuselage continued downward, spiraling more, passing to around 800 mph. Then, it hit the ground at a speed of 827 mph, exploding and showered the area with debris, fuel, flames, and bodies. Nobody was alive when the aircraft impacted and certain nobody would survive the ensuing fire. The wreckage was completely burning, the flames almost melting the fuselage. The black boxes had landed some eighty-five miles away, in a small lake that suddenly, almost emptied itself out from the force of the impact. It was a major disaster and some 89 people were scattered across the area, all of them dead.

The four F-22A fighters never made it to the ground, they just turned to ash in mid-air, going the way of the wind. The craft, on the other hand, was never to be seen again. The missiles scared it off, unfortunately, they didn't hit it.

Now, with a raging inferno, a crashed airliner, and a lot of explaining to do, the men inside the air defense bunker at Athens Airbase all looked to the man in charge. "What do we do sir?" One of them asked.

"We notify authorities that an aircraft has been downed. We notify the Joint Chiefs that we downed the 777 albeit we were aiming for an unidentified flying object. We tell the truth upwards and let them cover it up. The black boxes will tell what happened. There is no use lying. We did everything right. We followed proceedures and we followed them to the tee!"

"But sir?"

"But sir what! We didn't do anything wrong! It's just bad luck that's all!"

"Yes sir." Within thirty minutes, the Emperor had the news on his desk and he reacted just as they thought he would. It would be covered up. The Ministry of Transportation would investigate the wreckage, including the black boxes. They would report what happened. The official cause was going to be a terrorist bomb onboard. That was that!

OOC Summary [Chapter One]


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Confirmed Body Count: 96
Unconfirmed Body Count: 101+

Yes that is something different. Because there is a lot going on I am going to summarize each chapter at the end of it with the date and the events that happened that day.

Chapter II: Frantic

It was the 16th of October. Over the past six days, the entire Empire was shaken. A massive car bombing in Layarteb City had killed 7 people, including the Minister of Intelligence and a Boeing 777 crashed in a remote area of Tennessee, all 89 on board having died. That put some 96 individuals having died within six days. At the same time an insurrection was raging inside a missile complex in Tennessee and a secretive, Black Ops unit was on its way to re-establish contact. From the Emperor's standpoint, things were slowly getting out of control. He had, effectively, lost communication with a missile base. Four F-22A Raptors were destroyed by a UFO and a Boeing 777 with 89 civilians were killed, from the same missiles sent to intercept the UFO.

In the Tennessee rural area, where the 777 went down, it took rescue workers six hours to get to the crash with any equipment. Individual firefighters were on seen in under 20 minutes but were unable to do anything to contain the blaze. The wreckage was dispersed over a small area, having impacted relatively whole. The two wings had landed some fourteen miles away and the tail with the black boxes had landed some eighty-five miles away. Individuals from the Ministry of Transportation were investigating the wreckage and the black boxes had been recovered within twelve hours of the accident.

Preliminary reports to the media were as follows:

Air Crash in Tennessee

The late hours of October 15, a Layarteb Airways Boeing 777 from Layarteb City to Jackson, Mississippi, crashed in a remote area of eastern Tennessee. The 89 crew and passengers on board all perished in this disaster. Investigations are currently underway using information recovered from the black boxes.

News stations around the Empire carried the story all day long, some with pictures of the disaster, many of them crude. The remoteness of the area and the presence of a military base not far away ensure that few people actually lived in the area and the few that did were extremely poverished.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight88-001.jpg
Wreckage of the plane crash.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight88-002.jpg
More wreckage of the plane crash.

The Emperor had called a meeting the next day, October 16, concerning the incident. He had his cabinet present, including the Minister of Transportation. The jist was simple. The government could not admit it had downed the plane. The admission of this guilt would ask questions, namely, "Why was the airplane fired at?" This would bring up the deployment of the four F-22A Raptors that were sent to intercept and the UFO that vanished without a trace. There would be too many questions to have to answer or to have to lie about. One lie was far better than one hundred. It was decided, evidence taken from the black boxes and from the investigation would find the residue of a plastic explosive smuggled on board and placed in the rear bathroom. The device exploded at 35,000 feet and sheered off the tail. This of course, caused the catastrophic chain of events that saw the plane crashing into the ground. The terrorist cell responsible for the bombing of this aircraft would be the same people responsible for the bombing in Layarteb City on October 10. Information about them would not be revealed as there was none yet.

This was the report that would be sent out on the day of the 18th, three days after the crash. At the same time, the report on the bombing in Layarteb City would be released, albeit that wouldn't have to be fabricated. What happened was simple. A terrorist with a 2,000 pound bomb lost use of his legs whilst driving to a target, which seems to have been the Ministry of Intelligence. The resulting problem cause the individual to crash the van into the vehicle of the Minister of Intelligence, which was more or less bad timing on his part. The resulting crash opened the door of the van, which set off the fuse, and caused the explosion. The two incidients would be linked and the terrorist group would be blamed. Their motive, message, and ideology were unknown. They had no name yet either.

October 16

The eight men from Force Falcon Team One were sitting onboard the two UH-96A Panther helicopters. They were about twenty minutes out from their drop point, which was four kilometers away. The weather in central Tennessee was favorable. The moon was out that night in full and though that would hinder their approach and their night vision goggles, it meant that they would be able to see very well. The weather wasn't too cold, in the mid 40s. There was a slight westerly breeze of about three miles per hour. The sky was clear, not a bad cloud for hundreds of miles. The eight men would be preferred the ability to overfly the base and check for any signs of patrols but such was certainly not doable given the extremely sensitive nature of the operation. As it was, they all included specialized silencers on their weapons that limited the range of them but deaded the sound. The SAW would be unsilenced or suppressed because of the nature of the weapon system but the Carbines and the sniper rifle were all to be silent. They didn't like the reduction in range of their weapons but they had to trade it in for the operation.

Their battle plan involved three teams: Blue, Gold, and Red. Red was the sniper team, fulfilled by one sniper and another with a Carbine. The Blue and Gold teams were both three individuals. COL. Delaney would lead Blue team, their objective being to reach the control room and stop any launch. Gold team was to reach the radio room and report the status as well as apprehend and/or kill any traitors. A sub-objective of both teams were to establish contact with Force Red Cell. They had been briefed on the individuals of Force Red Cell and even if they were part of the treasonous bunch, they could still identify them and not shoot them. They were ordered to shoot traitors on sight as well as to apprehend those that they could. They were all trained to kill with one bullet although in a major combat situation, they still aimed for the center of mass and, at that, the high center, aiming for the heart, throat, and neck. Lung shots were also excellent at incapacitating individuals.

Then it was time for the drop. The two UH-96As found a small clearing and hovered about six feet off the ground. The eight men were out in less than eight seconds, the helicopters then taking back off for a return to the base. There was no air support available for the incursion and even if it were, nothing could be that useful for them since the fighting would be done within the complex.

COL. Delaney and his men dropped in and immediately huddled up. "Four klicks away is our objective. Upon arrival. Red take up a support position four hundred meters off the front of the entrance. Report any incursions. Blue and Gold on me. When we enter the complex, bracket out to your objectives. Blue on me. Let's get it done." They were off and running towards the objective. They used their advanced night vision goggles, giving them a full advantage to see as far as eight hundred meters, six hundred meters further than standard issue NVGs, which only worked to about two hundred on a moonless night. Their advanced goggles tied into the Land Warrior system that they were outfitted with. This kept them in constant communication with each other, it included a compass and GPS system, included the body armor, and lastly, they were able to use the heads-up display in their glasses to target their weapons and use the night vision to do much else.

They would be running at a pretty fast pace, moving at near 10 kilometers per hour. It was a normal pace for them as they were trained to run long distances, with much heavier gear. They could run as far as twenty-five miles in full gear and complete the distance. At their rate, they were going to be at the compound in under a half hour. They would need a quick five-minute rest to set up and get into position but once that was over and done with, they were going to be on their way. It was quick and easy for them to bring down their heartrate, which averaged fifty beats per minute, resting. They were highly in shape.

On the ignress towards the base, they ran into no problems, no patrols, no animals, no nothing. It was eerie, in a way. It was barely 0100 when they got to the missile base and by 0100, they were ready to attack. Both Blue and Gold teams moved in quietly and quickly. They had no guards posted at the entrance and everything looked normal, from the outside. The main bunker they would go into was more or less like a water purification plant, which was the way the base was set up. It was disguised as a water purification plant to fool satellites and reonnaissance aircraft. All missile bases were disguised as water purification plants, television studios, farms, and other non-important looking targets. One was even disguised as a mall.

Once you entered the main building, there was a fake terminal control like a purification plant. Then, there was a door with a keypad that led to a stairwell that went down some four flights to an elevator. Then another keypad activated the elevator, which led down to the base of the complex. Once inside, you were at another processing area that was usually used to determine who was who. Another keypad was required, as well as an eye scan, to enter the main complex. Once inside the base, keycards would be needed to gain access to various points: the armory, the barracks, the control room, the radio terminal, etc. The eight men were all equipped with an override card that they could use to bypass all eye scans, fingerprint scans, and so on and so fourth. They knew all the keycodes for the complex, including a master override code, which they would be using.

The walk down the flights were cold and quiet. The base was something straight out of a bad science fiction movie. They were expecting something alien-like to suddenly jump out and attack them. They knew they were going into an insurrection situation but they still felt it was something in sorts like a bad science fiction movie. "Where's the alien?" One of them remarked. They smiled and COL. Delaney put up his hand to signify silence. They didn't know the full situation that they were getting into. As they stood next to the elevator, they waited patiently with their weapons ready. The elevator was being called up but they didn't know what they would find when it came, whether or not there would be a group of guys with guns, a grenade, or a timed explosive device.

They took up defensive positions, hiding on the side of the elevator. If the doors opened and it was an explosive, the explosion would go into the wall but not around the corner to get them. If it was a person, they wouldn't see anyone unless they left the elevator to look. If they did, they would wind up with them being shot by the men. Luckily, for them, no one appeared when the elevator doors opened and there was no explosion. Nothing was in there except air, stale, cold air, coming from the inside of the base. The base was sealed from radioactive, chemical, and biological particals by way of pressure chambers, a differential, and an air purification system. The air was generally cold inside the base.

The six of them stepped into the elevator and took up hiding positions. The elevator was also for freight and thus it had large pallets stuck inside of it, including two boxes that were full of some sort of supply. The eight men imagined it to be food or water or something. There were two boxes and thus room enough for two people to hide safely. The other six scattered around the large elevator and hid along the sides and also behind the boxes. It was large enough for two small cars to fit into it, side by side. The elevator ride down was about eighty to a hundred feet and it was slow, quiet, and suspenseful. The eight men knew not what would be on the other side of the doors when they opened.

The moment finally came and the doors slid open, slower than they had before, or at least that was how it seemed. They had a small electronics camera with them that they could use to see around corners, in vents, in doors, and so on and so fourth. COL. Delaney was already using it. The cameras were attached to their rifles and all he had to do was peak the barrel around the corner of the box and he could see through his glasses. He saw nothing except emptiness and a single blood stain on the side wall of the foyer entrance.

"Alright men. Let's move out!" COL. Delaney whispered and they stood and moved to the door of the elevator, hiding against the side. They tipped out their rifles again to see. Then came the order to move out and all of them moved quietly into the airlock. The elevator doors shut and locked behind them. Something was definitely strange. The large blood stain on the wall had parts of brain on it. Someone was definitely shot, close range, in the head, probably execution style. The body had been dragged away, the blood trails showing that. "Lock and load men. Something is up! Be on the ready." COL. Delaney put in the override code to the eye scanner and watched as, in front of him, the scanner turned to approval. The room shook and spritzed with air and lights. It went dark to light several times. This was the purification and air lock process. They were hiding now on the side of the door and had looked around with their guns to see what was there. COL. Delaney saw what he expected, bodies and blood. There had been a firefight but there were no people alive yet.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/ride-the-lightning-001.jpg

He gave the signal to move out and they did, moving down along the main entrance corridor. There were boxes everywhere and, at the same time, blood, brains, weapons, and bodies. It was a disgusting mess. They moved forward, down the corridor, blood and bodies on the floor. "Watch where you step. Don't trail any blood anywhere." Sometimes it was hard to avoid the blood and though the corridor was only about fifty meters long, it was almost an eternity. It looked like a good twenty people had died in there and at least double that were wounded and trailed out or dragged out.

As they moved to the end of the corridor they had to part ways. Straight ahead led to the inner complex and the control room. To the right led to the communications center. COL. Delaney pounded fists with the XO of the squad and watched as Gold team set off, their rifles at the ready. He and his men moved towards their objective, the main control room, about six hundred meters into the complex and through a maze and web of corridors. They would have to check each room to make sure enemy soldiers weren't hiding. The same went for the Gold team, they would have to check every room they came to.

There were one hundred and sixty soldiers. The last report from Force Red Cell put at least have of the complex in arms against the other half. From the lack of communication and the sights of the corridors, it is obvious that the bad guys won, which would put some eighty people, if no one died, against eight plus sixteen, if they were still alive. They would gather that, possibly, they were going up against sixty well-armed, bloodthirsty traitors.

Blue and Gold teams moved at the same pace and though Gold team had only about a quarter of the distance to go, they had to wind through an even bigger maze, through a lot more corridors, and past a lot more rooms. Blue team would pass by the armory though, which was surely a hub of enemy activity. As Blue team moved into the interior of the complex, they moved past the immediate barracks and briefing room. Bodies were slumped over the tables, in their beds, and all over. Many were shot in their sleep it appeared, while others were shot in the middle of chow. Most of them were execution style killings although the ones who were awake were definitely shot close range, with a burst from an assault rifle. Televisions were still on in the mess hall. So far they counted another twelve bodies, having thirty-two thus far.

Gold team, on the other hand, was moving through their initial corridor. As they came to the first door, a small lounge, they saw two men inside, both sitting down, smoking. On their right arms was the velcro of the torn flag. They were bad guys and they were armed. The XO bent down and using hand signals told them that there were two people in there, armed, smoking, and bad. The goal was to take both of them out but to hit one in the leg to interrogate him. The door was closed and they would press on the door opener, open, fire at the one who was further away, and kill him. A leg or shoulder shot would be used against the closer. While one of the men took up a cover position, the other two made their decision and immediately pressed the button to open the door. Within a split second, it was open and the two men were lying on the ground, one dead and the other bleeding from his side. He was still alive and from the best account, the bullet had done nothing to him except pass through.

Then the three men rushed in, checking everywhere for others but there were none. They shot the dead man again in the head to make sure he was dead and to show a signal to the traitor. "Speak! Who are you!"

"Who the fuck are you!" He said back. The door had been shut and it blocked out sound. He could scream and yell all he wanted but no one was going to hear him. "Who the fuck are you!"

"The people you've betrayed. How many!"

"I won't tell you shit."

"Knee." A shot was put through his knee, causing him to writhe in pain. "There's plenty more body parts. Next are the elbows."

"Go to hell." The XO nodded and both elbows and the other knee were shot. "Fuck you!" He nodded again and another round went through each foot.

"We have all day. You don't!"

"You'll kill me anyway if I tell you."

"We might let you live and might let you only stand trial. Sure we could tell the judge your cooperated and he might let you live."

"Fat chance."

"You have twenty seconds. How many!" He raised the barrel to the man's balls. "This will hurt!"

"Sixty-two are alive. Twenty-seven died in the fighting. All those loyal to the Empire are dead. There's some argument between the higher ups though. Some want to launch the missiles at Layarteb, others want to randsom them. I don't know much."

"Where are they?"

"Scattered."

"How many in communications?"

"Six."

"Good. You've been helpful." The XO fired a shot right into the man's heart and killed him instantly. "Lets move out." They began to make their way to communications. Sixty enemies were left. "Gold lead to Blue lead come in."

"Roger Gold lead go ahead."

"Interrogation reports sixty-two alive. Two down. Sixty remaining. Making our way to communications. Possible factioning on use of missiles against Layarteb or randsom."

"Copy. Thanks." COL. Delaney and Blue team were through the corridor and entering the inners of the base. The armory was only around a corner about fourty meters away. All of the rooms here were full of bloody corpses. No one was left alive on this side of the base. As they came to the corner, COL. Delaney peered his rifle barrel around to see two soldiers standing outside of the armory, both without flags. He alerted his men with hand signals and then, without warning, he and another stepped out and fired off two shots each. All four were kill shots and the two men fell to the floor. Blue team moved up, towards the armory, to find six men inside, two of them from Force Red Cell. He signified that six men were there, two of them were friendly Red Cell.

He immediately opened the door and, by himself, fired off the shots. He put off four of them. Three of them were kill shots and the fourth was not a kill shot but a put-down shot. So he followed with a second shot to the head. "Rainbow Charlie?"

"Roger that. You?"

"Loyal to the Emperor. You are now with us."

"Roger that."

"What can you tell us?"

"Well there are about twenty guys in the control room, including the leader. There are about fourteen guys over by the communications center. We're the only two left from Red Cell. The rest are dead. The fighting was pretty bad. All-in-all, only about sixty-two of us survived and all on the bad side. The CO took his own life so the codes were never given to the XO but he's currently working to get them. There is some strife though. He wants to launch the missiles against Layarteb City actually. Others in his command want to randsom the base for money, free passage, and then launch the missiles after they recieve all that and launch them at a foreign country. I do not know which one."

"Very well. Let's move."

"Alright. Anything you say Colonel." They were on their way, Blue team now numbering five. The two Red Cell members were armed with a single M53A1 Shotgun with sixty-four rounds and a single M37A1 SAC with 245 rounds. They had a good amount of firepower between the two of them and combined with the Blue team they had a lot but they were down one long-range weapon. The M53A1 Shotgun was only good at short ranges, which was about 45 meters for the shot and 100 meters for the slug. He had sixteen slugs and the rest was 00 buckshot. With fifty-four more bad guys to go they had to act fast.

Gold team was not far from the communications center and they could see four men standing in the hallway around the corner. They were all standing around, talking about launching the missile. It seemed that between them, they were having a disagreement. It was quickly becomming heated and it was at that time that Gold team struck. All three of them popped around and opened fire. Each of them put out about three rounds, killing all of them. They moved down the corridor towards the end, which was the communications center. The communications room was a pretty large room. It contained a lot of decryption equipment and a lot of communications equipment. In addition, right below it, was the central powerplant for the entire missile base.

The communications center was protected by a keycard entry, to which they possessed the entrance card, well the XO possessed it. Only he and COL. Delaney had the access cards as they lead their sub-teams. The three of them were standing against the doorway and could see inside with their rifles. They could see that there were, at minimum, eight people inside and that they were all preoccupied. Two were drinking, one was sleeping, four were monitoring the hub, and the other was standing around yelling about what they should do. The communications center was next to the defense network center, which monitored the defense of the base. In the ensuing firefight, those who were loyal to the CO and the Empire threw in frag and thermite grenades to render it useless. This meant that the enemy was blind. It was an ingenious move! Unfortunately, those men who did that died. It was one less room to have to search and capture. The XO knelt to his men and motioned. They would open the door, toss in two Flash grenades, and then charge in, firing at the enemies. He wanted the one yelling alive and so he would be taken down with a non-lethal but painful shot to the leg.

It was done like a routine and two M58 Stun grenades. They went off and blinded all but those watching the panel and the one sleeping, in essence not doing their job. They did; however, stun the others through the use of the loud noise. It was a quick attack and they moved in and fired off about seven shots each. They put down all eight men, seven of them were dead. However, as they did, two other individuals came running around the corner and they opened fire. One of the bullets caught one of the Force Falcon guys in the arm and spun him around. As he spun around though he fired off two shots, both going through the heart of the shooter. The other guy was put down before he could even realize what was going on.

"Blue lead. Gold lead. Come in."

"Roger go."

"We have reached the communications center. Control is established. We have a minor bullet hit to the arm."

"Who?"

"Dennis sir."

"Alright. Minor?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. We have established a link with two Red Cell. Others are dead."

"Roger that."

"Can you get communications online?"

"Yes sir. We have a capture as well."

"Good. Keep him alive."

"Roger that."

"Armory is secure. Report fourteen on that side of the complex."

"We have fifteen dead and one captured. Number slightly off."

"Understood. Out." Gold team had almost completed their mission. Their next goal was to send a message to their command headquarters in New York that they established communications at the base and to report the situation. It wouldn't be good news. They had a lot of bodies to report and though the base wasn't fully under control, a clean up team could be sent. A lot of cleaning would have to be done and the base would have to be made to be almost as if nothing ever happened there.

It was all Blue team now. They were closing in on the control center and there were forty enemy soldiers still alive and kicking against their five. Twenty were confirmed to be inside of the control center with the other twenty scattered around. Between them and the control center were three corridors, sixteen rooms, and forty men. They entered the first corridor, home to six rooms. Two of them were briefing rooms, one was a storage room, one was a mess hall, and the other two were repair and machinery shops. They would have to take each room under their control. The first was the storage room, which turned out to be empty of both people and supplies. It had been raided. The mess hall was next and it had three men inside of it. The three Blue team members fired first, mainly because the weapons of Red Cell weren't silenced. Shots would alert the entire base. They moved on to the two briefing rooms, both empty and to the two shops, also empty.

Then they were off to the second corridor. That was when gunshots rang out and it wasn't from behind them. It was from in front of them. Someone was shooting in the control center. "The revolution has a revolution." One of the men from Red Cell remarked. They had to move quickly. Do they have the codes?" COL. Delaney thought to himself as they hurried through the second corridor, checking three rooms, none of which were occupied. They moved into the third and last corrdior, the gunshots echoing louder. Screams and curses echoed as well.

As they entered the third corridor they could see fresh bodies. There were six people that were very dead, having just been shot during a sort of insurrection within the insurrection. At the other end of the hall there were two more bodies although one individual was still alive, albeit barely. COL. Delaney approached him. "Speak boy!" Too hurt and too close to death to fight on anymore, the boy looked up.

"They want to launch the missile. It'll only be a matter of minutes. They're close to getting the codes. The XO, he finally couldn't take it and shot a few men planning to shoot him. It's a mess. They're going to launch." He died.

"Let's move!" The five men were now almost running down the corridor. At the other end was the control room and right next to it was a door leading to the silos. Both doors were shot up. "Gold team. Report in."

"Status is same sir. Establishing satellite uplink."

"We have a problem."

"What?"

"Insurrection within the insurrection. They're going to launch the missiles at Layarteb. It's only a matter of time. It seems there have been shots here. We've got eight bodies already and inside the control room, we'll probably find more."

"Understood."

"Maintain control there. We don't know how many of them are around."

"Roger that sir. Interrogating this jerk has come up with little."

"Alright. Keep at it. But keep him alive."

"Yes sir." COL. Delaney threw open the control room door and tossed in a Stun grenade. It blinded eight men inside but not the twelve corpses lying on the ground. Blue team pounced hard, including Red Cell, and opened fire. They laid waste to seven of the eight men, the XO and the leader being left alive, albeit shot through the upper arm and leg. They had established control in the control center and certainly prevented the launch, which seemed to be only five or so minutes away. With the leader on the ground, writhing in pain, COL. Delaney looked down.

"So. Speak. You have ten seconds before I pull out your stomach and make you eat it while I piss on your head."

"Fuck you and your leader."

"Wrong answer." He kicked him right in the stomach, keeping his rifle aimed at him. "Want to try again?"

"Eat me." He recieved a kick to the head. COL. Delaney wore steel-toed boots that hurt.

"Third time is a charm. Next time I surgically remove your nuts."

"To hell with you."

"Hard-head. Alright. Boys hold him down." He threw his rifle around and pulled out his knife. Without a second thought he made for the leader's groin area. Before he could reach it though, the leader screamed out.

"Fine what!"

"Better. How many are left?"

"Nine."

"Where are they?"

"In the missile silos."

"Their mission!"

"Static fire a missile twenty-two."

"You have the codes?"

"We do."

"Fuck!" He turned to the two men from Red Cell. "You two, with me. You two stay here and hold this place."

"Yes sir." COL. Delaney and the two Red Cell men were off and running down into the silos. There were a lot of them and they were all connected through corridors that went on for miles. They knew the missile silo number though, twenty-two. It was an LGM-174A Satan missile with a 50 megaton warhead and its target was somewhere inside Layarteb, most likely Layarteb City. They had to hurry, there wasn't much time.

The three men were off and sprinting towards the missile silo, which was no less than one thousand meters away from the control room and through three corridors, each one having to have the keycard accessed, which took about three seconds per door. That was already a six second disadvantage and they had to get down to that silo as quickly as possible. The plan would be to throw in Stun grenades and attack. They couldn't risk throwing in a Fragmentation or a Concussion grenade.

The seconds ticked on and they bolted down the silo corridors. There were nine men to deal with and they were outnumbered three to one. It wasn't a time for worrying about odds. It took them over two minutes to get to the actual silo and by that time they had nearly completed the launch code sequence. They had left the silo door open and two men outside stood guard but neither of them stood a chance against COL. Delaney and a three round burst to each. He had to change magazines though and he did so hastily. He carried double magazines on his rifle to begin with so it was a quick change but it took more seconds that they just did not have.

They threw in the Stun grenades and pounced. There was only one problem. The missile sequence was completed and the seven men inside were just completing the final checks. All three men opened fire with fervor, killing all seven of them in a most brutal and grim fashion. But it was too late!

"The firing sequence! It's complete!" One of the Red Cell members yelled. The screen on spot firing panel showed a countdown. "Sir we have ten seconds to vacate or hit the abort." COL. Delaney looked and saw that the panel was busted. They would never get a chance to hit the abort. "Sir! We have to get out!" He nodded and the three of them barely got out of the silo and got the door shut before the missile engine ignited.

The secret Norwegian Strategic Missile Command (NSMC) command bunker deep below the Norwegian mountains was on BERSTAT-4, the normal level of readiness. The many satellites in orbit, most of them formerly of the Imperial Cottish Air Force's Strategic Command were busy watching the surface of the Earth. It was then that Fugl-46 detected something in Tennessee. The Fenrik that detected it looked at it for four seconds, then he shouted out.

"Alarm! Missiloppskytning i Tennessee! Jeg har en missil som blir skutt opp fra Tennessee!" (Alarm! Missile launch in Tennessee! I have one missile launching from Tennessee!)

Immediately the control center went into high-gear. Alarms went off, people rushed in to their combat stations, and the commanding officer in the bunker, Generalmajor Larsen was on the phone to the Ministry of Defense in Oslo.

"Dette er NSMC. Vi har en missile under oppskytning fra et område i Tennessee i Layarteb. Dette er ikke, jeg gjentar ikke en øvelse. Evakuer Kongen og regjeringen umiddelbart." (This is NSMC. We have a single missile launching from a location in Tennessee, Layarteb. This is not, I repeat not a drill. Evacuate the King and cabinet immediately.)

"Forstått. Hvor sikker er denne informasjonen?" (Understood. How accurate is this information?)

"Den blir bekreftet av en satellitt til nå. Vent, nå har tre satellitter missilet i siktet. Jeg anbefaler at du iverksetter de nødvendige tiltak." (It's being confirmed by a second satellite as we speak. Wait, now three satellites have it in their scopes. I recommend that you implement the appropriate measures.)

"Generalmajor, benytt de midler du må for å forsvare Riket. Jeg må gå." (Major General, take whatever actions you see fit to defend the Realm. I've got to go.)

The conversation ended, and Larsen looked down at the buzzling control center for a few seconds before he picked up the phone again.

"Dette er NSMC. Iverksett plan Brann femtini. Jeg gjentar, iverksett Brann femtini." (This is NSMC. Initiate plan Fire fifty-nine. I repeat, initiate Fire fifty-nine.)

Plan Fire fifty-nine meant that all Norwegian strategic missiles went to highest alert and were prepared for launch. All military forces also went to maximum alert, and the Police Reserves and Civil Defenses were also mobilized. All SAM and ABM sites went to max alert, and all civilian aircraft were ordered to land at the closest airport. Anyone who disobeyed would be shot down, either by the Patriot sites or by fighters. If anyone attempted to attack either Norway or its ally Layarteb with nuclear weapons, they would get similar weapons back in their faces.


Posted with permission from the threads owner (Layarteb)

OOC: Is this Earth II only?

OOC: Is this Earth II only?

No.

COL. Delaney stood silent and still. The rumble and the force of the Satan missile lifting out of the silo was something that deafened everything for a good half mile and shook the ground for double that. Shit! He thought to himself and hten he immediately took to instinct. "Gold lead report over!"

"Blue lead what's going on!"

"Missile launch! I repeat missile launch! They fired it off before we could stop them. Send an immediate communique to the Emperor. It's targetted within this country! It's probably going somewhere with lots of people!"

"Roger that sir. On it" COL. Delaney could hear that his XO hadn't depressed the key and was ordering his team, "You hear him! Send it now!"

Outside, the brilliant, green flame of the LGM-174A Satan filled the entire silo. The ground rumbled and the silo doors blasted open. The missile had enough force to push it high into the upper atmosphere and push it as far as 15,000 miles. The missile was definitely targetted for somewhere inside Layarteb and as it rose out of the ground, slowly but gaining more and more speed, it sent shockwaves as far as five miles away. The missile streaked upwards, tilting northward as it climbed, gaining more and more speed with each passing foot of altitude. Behind it, the green flame trailed a small amount of smoke and the missile was like an omen in the sky, something far worse than anything they had ever imagined.

It was a cylinder with a point at the top of it, five nozzles at the bottom, each pushing out a green flame. The missile was fueled by C.A.R.L.I.E. gel-fuel and streaked upwards gaining more and more velocity. It had a minimum range of 300 miles but it's target was a little further away than 300 miles, more like 700 miles away.

Unable to see into the silo, COL. Delaney knew it was done and gone and opened the door. Smoke filled the empty canister and he looked upwards. The missile was at least 15,000 feet in the air and moving almost three times the speed of sound. As he looked up he could think of only one thing, The target! He wasted no time and bolted back towards the command center. It took him about half the time to get back then it took him to get there in the first place. He just ran, faster than he could, all the doors already open, the two Red Cell members at least ten to forty meters behind him, running, struggling to catch up. The world record for the 800m dash was 1:41:11. He probably did it in a minute twenty. Who knew.

He busted into the control room, more adrenaline flowing than humanly possible. "Where is it going!" He screamed at the commander. The commander of the rebellion was smiling, laughing. COL. Delaney kicked him as hard as he could square in the chest, almost smashing through his rib cage. "Where is it going!" The man continued to laugh. "Fine!" He picked him up, threw his rifle on his back and threw the commander square across the room, a clean ten to fifteen feet. He walked over to him and kicked him again in the stomach. "Where is it going?"

"I'm dead either way. Why should I say?"

"Because if you don't you're not going to die. You're going to suffer for the next eighty-five years of your life and I'm going to be the one doing it." He pulled out his blade. "Ever gotten a paper cut? Ever gotten salt on a cut? Ever had to wake up to me every morning." There was no life in COL. Delaney's eyes, just fire, blood, lust, and revenge. He wanted this man dead but he wanetd his information first. "Where is it going?"

"Keep at it." He picked him up and threw him across the room again. "This hurts." He mocked COL. Delaney.

"Gold team what's the status?"

"Message transmitting. Can you surmise a target?"

"Working on it." He looked down at the commander, who was bleeding from his mouth. "You got a lot of teeth there." Then he turned to his other men. "Hold him and his mouth open."

"Yes sir." They jumped on top of him, holding each limb down, his torso, his head, and held open his mouth. COL. Delaney looked down and bent down, the commander screaming and gagging.

He reached inside his mouth with his knife and made a small slit on the man's gum in the back. Then, he put the tip of his knife into the slit and pryed out the man's tooth. It was a slow, arduous process and the man was in tears, the pain so great. COL. Delaney pryed at the gum and made small cuts, prying at the tooth to get it out, showing no remorse. Finally, he pryed it enough to get the tooth out but it was still attached to the nerves. "Roots still on. I did a good job." Then he played with the tooth, knocking it around with the knife blade, making sure that it hurt like hell. Finally, he reached in and gave a good yank, ripping out the tooth and the roots. The commander nearly passed out. "Let him go." Blood gushed from the man's mouth and COL. Delaney looked down at him, throwing the tooth against the man's face. "You have thirty-one left. Where is it heading? It's only going to hurt more."

"You sadistic fuck." The commander spat a large wad of blood on the floor. "Layarteb City." He said with a deep breath. "It's going to Layarteb City. Just don't do that again."

"Fine. Gold lead, come in."

"Yes sir."

"Target is Layarteb City."

"Roger that sir."

"Get it out and get it out fast."

"Yes sir...Come on guys get a move on it. Target is Layarteb City...Alert the Emperor. Recommend ABM batteries acquire missile and destroy. How is the goddamn speaker system coming? Five minutes? We don't fucking have five minutes. Two-way has to be up yes. Direct communication with JOC. Let's go men!" The XO barked orders. They were trying to patch the main radio into the speaker system overhead to put COL. Delaney in direct communication with the Joint Chiefs, which was JOC, Joint Operations Command. The Joint Chiefs had their own central command center from which they ran all the branches of the military.

680 miles away, in Layarteb City, the Emperor was being rushed out of the castle and into a UV-24D Bulldog that was sitting outside of his castle. He and his top aides in the office were hurried onto it, twenty-two in all. The UV-24D then lifted up like a rocket and shot straight into the air. It got a few hundred feet up in no time and then immediately turned and started moving forward, full thrust applied. The UV-24D was at full speed, 317 miles per hour within no time and the plane was now heading towards Layarteb City International Airport. The Emperor's VC-25C Condor was sitting and waiting, ready to take off and go. "We have to warn the city!" He shouted as he was hurried onto the plane. He knew it would create a panic and he knew that a 50 megaton blast would vaporize everything for 10 kilometers, destroy everything for 26.3 kilometers, and cause fires and burns 58 kilometers away but it was an instinct. The explosion alone would create a fireball some 2.5 kilometers across and the mushroom cloud would peak up at 60 kilometers, having an airburst height of 4 kilometers. The cloud would be some 45 kilometers across with the fireball reaching the ground and about 11 kilometers in the air. The detonation would easily be seen 1,000 kilometers away.

As the Emperor was hurried into the UV-24D, his Joint Chiefs were sitting in a command bunker two hundred and eighty feet below Layarteb City. A tunnel connected their bunker to an exit about eighty-five kilometers to the north but it was unlikely they would survive the blast, even at that depth. They were working frantically to identify the abort codes on the missile. Each missile had an abort sequence that would detonate a small high explosive in the core of the missile, spliting it in two. The nose cone would eject, be completely disarmed, and parachute down to the surface where it could be retrieved. It was tricky though and just entering the code wasn't always enough. The abort sequence had to be entered correctly on the first try or else it would completely deactive the abort sequence. In addition to that, it would require a similiar code to be entered from the JOC bunker, both signals being sent at the same time. The option to abort a launch was there but it was highly difficult to perform. In testing, it worked only one out of every thirty-eight times, good odds but not good enough. Consequently, six MIM-196 AABMS sites taht were in the path of the missile were firing up and preparing to activate.

The MIM-196A/B AABMS missiles were the best shots to destroy the missile and there were 300 MIM-196A and 240 MIM-196B missiles in the path of that missiles. There was one minor problem though. The A version had a maximum altitude of 93 miles and a maximum range of 125 miles. The B version could go up to 150 miles and as far as 300 miles. The best shot was the B version but both of them would have to get the missile almost on its terminal phase. They were lucky though. Because the range wasn't as great as intercontinental, the missile would not go as far up as it normally would. They still had to shoot it down though and it would be moving in excess of 12,000 miles per hour.

Inside the control room of the missile base, COL. Delaney had already removed another tooth of the commander and threatened to remove them all if the missile wasn't intercepted and destroyed. The commander was in sheer pain. To tease him, COL. Delaney had pulled a morphine shot from his pack and broke it in front of him, letting the morphine fall onto the floor.

While Gold team was working feverishly to establish the intercom system, which had been short-circuited during the initial firefight in the missile base, Blue team was trying to establish a link to the missile. Using the directions of the two men from Red Cell, all five of them, minus one, were playing with switches, codes, and everything else. One man was watching the commander, who was now restrained by plastic zip ties.

The ability to activate the abort sequence rested on gaining contact with the missile. This required accessing the mainframe, which was currently offline due to lock-out. The two Red Cell members knew the codes to remove the lock-out but the whole process took one hundred and forty-two seconds and time was of the essence. If six codes weren't entered during the reactivation process, the system remained locked out. They knew all the codes and knew when to enter them, even though they were prompted for them, but the pressure was still on. The codes had to be entered correctly and within twelve seconds or else it didn't continue. They were to be left undisturbed. The gagged commander would not be able to make any noise to distract them but there was just pure pressure in the control room, raising the temperature by at least twenty-five degrees.

The missile was already arched over West Virginia, all available batteries of MIM-196s tracking it. Inside the control center of the missile base, they were already up to the third code, working against the clock to get the other three in. At JOC, the uplink was already established and the citizens of Layarteb City were sitting in mere ignorance about what was heading their way. As they were, the Emperor and his VC-25C Condor was already taxiing down the runway, it's eight escort planes already airborne. They consisted of four F-25B Firefox interceptors and four F-37A Razors. The F-37A Razor was something very new to the ILM. It was to replace the aging F-15C and F-15E Eagles in the ILAF and the F-18C/D/E/F in the ILN. Aside from those eight aircraft, six more were coming from Falcon City, all F-36 Thorn high-altitude interceptors and ten F-22A Raptors. Twenty-four aircraft would escort the single VC-25C across the country, to the south, to a secret military installation in Venezuela. Air flight refueling tankers, as well as AWACS and J/STARS, were already getting airborne.

Finally, when the VC-25C lifted off the ground at Layarteb City IAP, flight operations resumed. The tower was slightly perturbed that clearance had been given and ordered ahead of all commerical aircraft, which sat impatiently at the end of the runway as the VC-25C lumbered past and bolted down the runway, escort fighters buzzing by at nearly 450 miles per hour and less than 2,000 feet altitude. Then, they resumed take off. The VC-25C was piloted by the best of the best in the ILM. They were all trained, seasoned veterans, all fighter or bomber pilots with combat experience. Fighting pilots had to be double ace status and bomber pilots had to have three hundred sorties under their belt in more than eight different aircraft. Selection was very rugged and only eight of the eight hundred applications each year are accepted.

The tireless seconds ticked on and the missile moved faster and faster northward. Timing was of the essence. They were lucky though, the missile would never reach its full altitude and speed because of the extremely short range that it was heading. "I GOT IT!" One of the Red Cell men screamed as the uplink screen came up and immediately recognized the JOC uplink. By now, the PA system was hooked up and working. "Sir I have it! Uplink active!" He yelled again.

"Very well soldier," the man speaking was the General of the Space Division, a very calm man, even under this type of pressure. "I am reading your uplink. On my count we are going to simulatenously push the abort button. I will, this is a test, understood?"

"Yes sir."

"I will go three, two, one, and then push."

"Understood sir. Push after one."

"Very well. Shall we then?"

"Yes sir. Ready."

"Three..." Each second was something of complete and utter insanity. How could one sit and watch this and maintain any level of calm. Sweat dripped down everyone's forehead and pooled on the ground below. Their heart beats raced, their breathing increased, "Two..." Everyone who had a family in those two rooms thought about them as they sat and watched. One man, in the JOC, had all six batteries on one line, all waiting. If he authorized them to launch, they would, otherwise they would stand down. Everyone sat and thought. "One..." The time had come. Then, without hesitation, they both pushed the button. Their status screens both turned to read "Abort Code Accepted." The missile should have exploded...It should have...

It didn't. The screen, within two seconds read, "Abort Failed...Communication Failure..." The abort had failed. Without hesitation or second though, the General of the Space Division gave a thumbs down to the man on the phone. He had only one thing to say, "LAUNCH!"

All six of the missile batteries had the missile locked and each one of them had a pair of MIM-196A and a pair of MIM-196B missiles targetted. Twelve MIM-196B missiles and twelve MIM-196A missiles, from the six different batteries, quickly ignited and suddenly, twelve smoke trails were heading skyward, accelerating to 6,500 miles per hour, climbing at an incredibly steep angle. They would impact with hit-to-kill, kinetic energy warheads, meant to obliterate the warhead from sheer kinetic energy alone.

Two of the sites were located very close to a residential area. One man, who was an ex-military officer from the ILAF watched as the smoke trails lifted up. A test I guess... He thought to himself as he watched the missiles travel upward, into the clouds.

The VC-25C was already flying at maximum speed, over 20,000 feet, climbing and further accelerating, to escape the blast. It was moving easterly as the winds were moving northerly. They had to get away as fast as possible and as far as possible.

By now, the missile was already beginning to come down. It was about one hundred and sixty-five miles away from the target. It would come down on a very steep angle to avoid interception from ABM systems, which would make interception by the MIM-196s that much more difficult. However, that was taken into account when the missile was designed.

Twenty-four missiles streaked skyward as everyone held their breath. Inside Layarteb City, children were going to lunch during their schooling, taking naps. Housewives were doing some shopping, for food or clothes. Men were working, crossing streets, on the phone with their girlfriends, wives, mothers, fathers, and children. Doctors were treating patients in nearly every hospital. Policemen and firemen were stopping crime and protecting peoples' homes from the enemy of fire. Babies were being born; someone was dying. Every second that ticked was borrowed time for them. The city was home to millions, many millions. The metropolitan area in general held nearly triple that of the main city. Northward lived no less than 42% of the entire metropolitan population.

And then, there was silence...Everything stopped...

If anyone has any comments or anything you can post them, I would like that actually :).

Also I don't mind if you write "TAG" when you subscribe :). I am an oldie from NS so old-Jolt habits die hard!

Great thread although i didn't have time to read it yet, actually i never had time to read any of your threads, maybe i should start doing that.

Great thread although i didn't have time to read it yet, actually i never had time to read any of your threads, maybe i should start doing that.

Oh yes you should. They rule.

Jolly good show. Keep it up!

Jolly good show. Keep it up!

I bet your all teetering on the edge.

WHAT HAPPENS!??!?!?!

Find out in the NEXT installment.

The LGM-174A Satan missile had already disregarded all of its stages. What was coming down was the final stage, the nose-cone, being driven faster towards the ground by its steep angle, in the area of 75°, and by its rocket engine, which would normally accelerate the missile to terminal velocity, 15,000 miles per hour. At such a speed, the nosecone fell at 4.17 miles per second or 250 miles per hour. Falling from 100 miles would take a mere 24 seconds, not even enough time to light a cigarette and take a drag.

The missile was coming down from an altitude of 100 miles, accelerating, using its jamming to confuse the enemy. The jamming program not only printed out a massive amount of noise to disrupt detection but also made the enemy suddenly see up to 120 decoys, which were nothing more than small pieces deployed from the nosecone. They fell at the same speed and in the same way and had an identical signature as the falling nosecone. The missile was doing all of this.

JOC knew of this before hand. They were tracking the missile using anti-stealth tracking systems, which locked onto the nosecone and ignored and filtered the decoys. This same tracking system was guiding the twenty-four missiles towards the nosecone. The missiles used a combination of IIR and X-Band, active radar to track the target and they were patched into the anti-stealth system, meaning that they were flying by datalink.

All twenty-four missiles had an impact point designated, computed by the actual firing program. The nosecone would be manuevering but its manuever was predictable because they had built the missile. The twenty-four of them were mean and angry. The B versions already dropped their first boosters and both versions were on their final booster stage. They would deploy a kill-vehicle ahead of the missile, which would maneuver into place and collide with the missile.

Everything was suddenly stopped down below. Life in Layarteb City was running normally but something was amiss. Many people were looking up at the sky. There was a glowing object above them. "Look a comet!" Someone yelled. Others made no assumptions except that it was streaking down, towards them. Was it an asteroid? Was it a comet? Was it something falling from space? Nobody knew for sure.

Life didn't come to a grinding halt but those on the street were looking up at this brilliant, flaming object falling downwards. most of the people didn't notice. Many did. "Look. Up there." They would say.

As the twenty-four missiles neared their intercept points they released their kill-vehicles, which would thrust into place and intercept the nosecone. A tiered system was set up from 85 miles to 25 miles in terms of height. Every 2.5 miles, another kill-vehicle would be placed. The nosecone would have to veer them so quickly, moving at such a high speed. The odds were that they were going to get the nosecone, they had too, there was too much riding on this.

As the nosecone approached the first kill vehicle, at 85 miles, it passed through it. Twenty-three were left. By the time the next second passed, it had gone through almost two more, avoiding both of them. Twenty-one were left. One-by-one, the nosecone avoided the kill-vehicles, through twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen. Each one of the kill-vehicles was being avoided. The nosecone was just too advanced. They were at a big problem. They had to destroy the nosecone and save the city, they had to. Twelve missed, eleven malfunctioned. Ten vectored off course. Nine wound up just missing by a few inches. Eight and seven were completely blown past. Then, number six, trust number six.

As the nosecone came down, number six, set at 40 miles above the earth, 211,200 feet, the sixth kill vehicle intercepted the nosecone. The velocity of the missile was 10,258 miles per hour and the speed of the kill-vehicle was 6,500 miles per hour. 16,758 miles per hour was the closure velocity and the impact was something brilliant. Over the sky of Layarteb City, a bright flash and fireball filled the sky. The nosecone was still far enough away that it wouldn't land inside the city, something that wouldn't be a good idea, especially with a 50 megaton warhead onboard. The warhead section would land just outside the city lines, luckily not harming a single person. The remaining five kill-vehicles and those that malfunctioned and missed would self-destruct and fall to the ground, harmless.

Inside the JOC, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. A man on another phone, with direct communication to the VC-25C Condor smiled. "Sir. Yes. It has been intercepted. We're safe sir." He hung up the phone. The VC-25C had gotten far away but not far enough. The blast would have surely affected the aircraft, probably even giving the individuals on board 3rd degree burns, if they weren't blown up by the blast wave. On board the VC-25C, the Emperor and the company on board cheered and clapped. The city had been saved and along with it, millions of innocent lives. The VC-25C would turn around and land at Layarteb City IAP as its fighters went on to their respective bases.

A UV-24D would transport the Emperor and those aboard back to the castle on Governor's Island. 680 miles away, in the missile base, the ten men would all smile, cheer, and clap. COL. Delaney, knowing full well that he had some explaining to do, walked over to the commander, who was laughing. "I almost had you guys!" He said with sinister tones.

"I bet." COL. Delaney kicked him so hard in the chest that he broke four of the man's ribs with one, single, swift kick. The man shook on the floor from the pain. "You're going to wish and hope you never see me again. Let's go!" He pulled the man up into the air and shoved him against the hard, concrete wall. "Gold team, what's the status on the reinforcements?"

"Sir. We've got eight teams incoming, forty-eight men. ETA is sixteen minutes."

"Red team report, over."

"Quiet as anything sir. No action. Lucky SOBs."

"You can say that. Watch out for the reinforcements."

"Roger that sir." The three teams were all in communication with each other all of the time. Red team had a boring adventure, sitting outside, hidden, and watched as the missile lifted off to certain doom. Now, inbound, were twelve UH-60L Black Hawk helicopters, four AH-94A Stalker helicopters, and a ground convoy. The ground convoy was too far away to be considered immediate reinforcements but they were being sent it with a full staff to repopulate the missile base and get it back online. Once the reinforcements arrived, COL. Delaney and his men would be sent right back to Layarteb City, obviously to have a "conversation" with the Emperor that COL. Delaney knew was going to be a bad one.

He and his men spoke little on the return trip to Layarteb City, still in their gear, tired from the height of emotions that filled them throughout the past few hours. What was going on? The situation in the country was derailing. A massive car bombing, a captured missile base, a missile launch, and god knew what else. In the past eight or so hours, the situation had been something crazy. The assault on the missile base was nothing that was easy for them. They faced few guards but, unfortunately, faced a serious roller coaster of emotions. Now, for the time being, it was over.

:: BUMP ::

Adding the next part soon.

October 16

COL. Delaney and his team had just landed at Layarteb City Air Force Base. Their C-17A Globemaster III was carrying a shippment of classified documents as well. A pair of Suburbans with armed guards were waiting. COL. Delaney knew exactly what they were there for. They walked right up to the aircraft, their weapons off safety, shouldered. "Colonel Delaney. I have been instructed by the Emperor to confiscate your weapons and bring you and your men straight to the castle. I would appreciate it if you did not react, please sir."

"I understand." He saluted and looked to his men. "Give them your weapons men."

"Sir?"

"That's an order."

"Yes sir." The men handed over their weapons and got inside the two Suburbans, heading for the castle. The ride was tense. The men sent to apprehend them were from Force Falcon as well but they knew how capable Team One was and they knew exactly what Team One could do. They were nervous, especially around Colonel Delaney, who redefined the term ruthless.

It was a half hour ride from the air base to Governor's Island, another ten minutes through security checks, and another five minutes to his office. The eight men stood there, disarmed, still in their gear, ready to face a "firing squad" of sorts.

They waited in the cold, dimly lit waiting room, the men of Team Two holding vigilante guards. "Colonel," the team leader said, a mere major. "Sir, I don't know what happened there and I don't know what happened here. All I know is that a bad chain of events took place."

"Understood."

"But if it is any consolation, I want to have you aware that my respect for you and your team has not decreased. It was a brave thing you guys did there."

"Thank you."

"Sir, what's going to happen?"

"Listen for gunshots." He smirked and the secretary looked up. "Time to enter I presume?"

"Yes sir. Good luck Colonel."

"Thank you. Gentlemen, shall we?" The eight men from Team One and the eight men from Team Two entered. The Emperor was sitting behind his desk, a look of pure anger in his face.

"Stand at attention gentlemen. Major, keep your team four in and four out."

"Yes sir. Green outside."

"Understood sir." Colonel Delaney and his men stood at attention, just waiting.

The Emperor took in a deep breath and pulled, from his desk, an M33A2 pistol. "You know the muzzle velocity of a forty-five A-C-P bullet out of an M33A2 is 360 meters per second. You are a mere meter and a half away. In less than a second your brains will be a fine mist all over the office. Now let's get to business." He put the pistol down. It wasn't loaded but the clip was right next to it, holding some 12 rounds. "Colonel. Why did you see fit to allow that missile to be launched?"

"Sir. The missile launch was something that was not intentional."

"Why am I finding this hard to believe? I have an entire missile base revolt and you happen to not stop a missile launch in time? Maybe it was a mistake sending you there."

"Sir. We gained control of the control center and the communications center separately. Gold team controlled the communications center before we gained control of the control center. Upon gaining control, we interrogated the leader who promptly announced that the rest of his men were planning to static fire missile number twenty-two from the actual silo. The silo was some 1,000 meters away, through three corridors with key access locks. Upon reaching the silo we executed all enemy men but found they had already started the firing sequence. We had a mere ten seconds before it was complete. The panel had been shot and thus we could not activate the abort. Sir we had no choice but to vacate the silo. We barely made it out in time sir."

"While Red Cell backs up your story I must ask. Why were you not there sooner?"

"Sir, we were not aware that the launch codes were compromised."

"Nor was I!"

"Sir our loyalty remains with the Empire."

"A statement I cannot accept at the moment."

"Sir. I fully understand that."

"Fully understand that!" The Emperor stood and roared. "A fifty-megaton, nuclear warhead just came within 35 miles of hitting this city and killing the millions that live here. I had to board my aircraft. I had to evacuate the city! What do you think I feel like?"

"Sir, we should have gotten there sooner. I cannot explain this sir. I do have a single question."

"You are not in the position for questions Colonel!"

"Sir I will ask it anyway. Why were we sent in long after?"

"My decision to send you in at the time is of no consequence!"

"Sir, had we been there ten minutes earlier, a day earlier, and so on, we would have stopped that launch sir! We were sent in too late to effectively complete our assignment with a full margin of."

"Margin of error? Colonel you forget that you follow MY orders! If I concieve that it is possible to take the base in the time I give you then it is possible!"

"Sir that is not what I am arguing!"

"Then what are you saying?"

"Sir! We were sent in to late!"

"You were sent in immediately after communication was lost!"

"Sir?"

"What Colonel?"

"Sir, communication was down for days."

"Communication went down one hour before you were sent in!"

"Sir, communication was lost on the twelfth."

"WHAT! Now you are making up lies to save yourself!"

"Sir. That is not true. From our recovered logs, communication was lost on the twelfth."

"What logs?"

"Give them to him." The communications officer of the group took out a piece of paper from his pocket. He put it on the Emperor's desk and nodded. "Sir. Red Cell indicated that the base fell to enemy forces on the twelfth."

"This can't be!" The Emperor sat back down, reading the log. He could tell they were authentic, there was no way to forge these logs without the authorization codes, which he knew, Force Falcon wouldn't know them, they weren't important for them. He buzzed his secretary. "Get Mark over here as soon as you can."

"Yes sir. Should I alert him to a sense of urgency?"

"Yes."

"Understood sir."

"Thank you. Gentlemen, things have taken a turn. I regret to say that my primary aide has led me astray. But my trust in you is not fully replenished. Therefore I have a task for you. Are you aware of our desire to unite Ireland under Layartebian rule and the desire to gain Peru?"

"I am sir."

"Both lands are under the control of GnOoLoCoPeLep. Intelligence shows the nation to be weakening under a widely unpopular President. We have army, air force, and navy units sitting ready to attack and annex. Intelligence shows absolutely no succession. Infighting and chaos will descend upon the nation and produce a quasi-anarchy state. His death is necessary. Therefore, you are going to assassinate him. You fail this and I promise you," he put the magazine into the pistol and took it off safety. "You fail and I promise you that the last thing you will see is a bright flash and my smile."

"Yes sir."

"Get out of my sight." Colonel Delaney and his men saluted and they were off, walking out of the castle, towards their transport, which was going to be bringing back to their base.

*Wipes sweat from forehead*
I'll stay tuned for the 'next episode'

*Wipes sweat from forehead*
I'll stay tuned for the 'next episode'

Riveting isn't it?

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.



Confirmed Body Count: 96
Unconfirmed Body Count: 257+

Chapter III: Estranged

October 18 brought a new dawn for the Empire. Nothing bad had happened the day before. If nothing bad happened this day then that would make two days in a row. But alas, nothing like that was going to happen to them. In the wake of the car bombing, the downed aircraft, and the mysterious meteor, the public were beginning to wonder. Pundits on news programs were asking hard questions, powerful questions, questions that, if answered truthfully would only lead to more turmoil. Newspapers were already stirring up the rumors of a terrorist plot to sink the Empire into turmoil. These terrorists were unnamed and unfounded, from what the papers said, but they existed. They had blown up the car bombing and killed the Minister of Intelligence on purpose, assassinating him. They blew up Layarteb Flight 88 over Tennessee to kill and cause panic and chaos. The meteor, on the other hand, was so far unexplained except by a brief statement. It was, to them, a meteor. They had asked something though, something very powerful. They wanted to know why there was no warning, why there was no alarm, and what happened to it that it exploded in mid-air, falling towards the city.

The Emperor needed damage control. Usually, Mark Thompson, an aide of his would do that but, at the moment, Mark was being shipped southward, to a Forsaken Island (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=442286), somewhere beyond any fathomable stretch of the mind. He had betrayed the Emperor, helped the rebellion, and given away three names, after six hours of brutal punishment. The three names were all high level officials in the military, two in the Space Division and one in the Navy. All of them were apprehended and currently being whisked away, southward, to the very same place. Things were coming together now. The two men from the Space Division fed problematic information about the base to the General, thereby feeding the same intel to the Emperor. The Navy official was in charge of Atlantic submarine operations and he had moved a Hunter SSN into striking position to obliterate Washington and Baltimore. Lucky for the Empire, the submarine was never ordered to fire, that was actually planned for the twentieth. It would fire two nuclear armed Tomahawk II cruise missiles and kill even more millions.

The Hunter had since been recalled and moved eastward, near the Azores. The missile base had been cleaned up and repopulated. It was online again, the damage being repaired. At the same time, a newly built LGM-174A Satan would be brought to the base, lowered into the silo, and reattached to the defense net. Everything was appearing as if it never happened. And it never did, not in the eyes of the public.

It was around noon when a Boeing 777 from Layarteb Airways landed in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Eight men stepped off, looking for a good vacation, their sunglasses were all special Oakley's but none of them sat together. Fifteen other men onboard wore Oakley's, a popular brand of sunglasses for tourists in the southern hemisphere. But these eight men were no tourists. They may have talked vacation away from the office, from the law firm, or from the university but they were there for a mission, for a job. They would all meet up separately in downtown Santa Cruz, in a shitty apartment that looked like cockroaches would rather live somewhere else. The place smelled of rotten food, overflowed toliet water, and of some type of dead carcass. What a dump. COL. Delaney thought to himself as he stepped into the apartment. Over the course of the next three hours, his men would all arrive.

"This is where our contact is?" One of them asked. "You can't be serious. This is worse than hell."

"You got that right soldier. Now where is he?"

"Beats me." The eight of them tried not to sit anywhere but after standing for so long, they felt that it would pass the time if they just sat down, somewhere, played some cards, and relaxed. The place was a dump but they would be able to clear an area large enough for them to relax. No sooner than they got comfortable did a man appear from a rear room. He was old, disgusting looking. He probably hadn't showered in three weeks, let alone changed his clothes in the past week. He had crumbs in his overgrown beard and slop on the front of his shirt. No less than eighty pounds overweight, the man resembled a sick, child molestor. COL. Delaney wondered if he should just shoot the man there, for whatever crime or crimes he may have committed in the past.

"¿Los caballeros, cómodo?" (Gentlemen, comfortable?)

"¿No exactamente, dónde está el material?" (Not exactly, where is the stuff?)

"Aquí. Ahora salga mi apartamento." (Here. Now leave my apartment.)

"With pleasure." COL. Delaney said. The slob handed him a large briefcase that was full of documents, intelligence reports, money, and maps. They left without a word and got back to the street, where they drove back to their hotel in two cars. Four of them came by car, two by bus, one by taxi, and the other walked. When they got back to their hotel they all showered quickly. The stench and the filth of the apartment was almost impregnated on their clothes. "What a fucking filth bucket!" COL. Delaney said, coming out of the bathroom. "What have we got?"

"Well sir. We're looking at a window of eight hours tomorrow and Friday. Tomorrow we can strike against him during a speech in the city square. That's about eight kilometers away. Friday we can get him during a parade. That'll be about six kilometers away."

"Anything more discreet?"

"One opportunity sir but it's a half hour window."

"Doable."

"It is at his home. We're looking at Thursday morning, just before dawn. He always sits on his balcony every morning to watch the sun rise over the mountains. Sir we can hit him through the sun. But, we're looking at a shot of almost twenty-eight hundred meters sir. We're going to need an M38 for that sir."

"We have an M32 available."

"How sir?"

"Because we're going to steal one."

"Steal one?"

"Yes. Intelligence reports that a group of rebels, against the government, is operating a small base in the forest not more than six kilometers from his house. They're not trained well enough to assassinate him though. We have suppleid arms to them on more than six occassions, including up to four M32A1 Heavy Sniper Rifles. We already made contact with them and all we have to do is pick up the rifle, some ammunition, and wait for the kill."

"Brilliant sir."

"We're leaving first thing in the morning. We'll have twenty-four hours to get to the base, get the rifle, and get into position. I estimate six hours to get to the base, four hours to get to the spot and get in position. We'll spend a good three or four hours there, making nice-nice with the rebels, letting them know of the updated battleplan. Then, we're off. They are to recieve an airdrop in approximately nine hours containing gear for us, basic stuff though, just gear, assault rifles, ammunition, MREs, stuff like that, nothing necessary. It's too late to add anything to the list so we'll have to work with what we have."

"Very well sir."

"Good. Now get some shut-eye, we're going to need it."

"Yes sir." Not more than ninety minutes passed before they were all passed out on the two twin sized beds, the sofa, a comfortable armchair, and the floor. An alarm set for 0500 was going to wake them all up in seven hours.

October 19

Michael took a puff of his cigarette and watched the sunrise. He had only been back home for eight days now, having seen combat that he never wanted to see ever again. Only two months earlier, the rebellion and insurrection in the Yucatán had been squashed and he had a part in it, a very bruttish and inhuman part. He belonged to a Task Force, Task Force 88, that was an ad-hoc group of men from four different units. They had members from Delta Force and Recon Force, both Special Forces groups, Force Falcon, and a CIA paramilitary unit.

He was the operations commander of the unit, meaning that he led the men in the field and reported to one man, the commanding officer. The CO of the Task Force was a Delta lieutenant colonel, a seasoned veteran who had recieved more medals then Michael could count. They had been watching a town in the east of the Yucatán when he committed the most horrific act of his life, an act which, to the day, he still had nightmares about, while he was awake.

They recieved an order one day to poison the water well of this village, a village loyal to the enemy but with nothing but civilians. There were no weapons caches, no enemies hiding, no parked vehicles or armor, just civilians loyal to the insurgency. The village was estimated to have 800 people, when in reality, it had 928, almost half of them under the age of eighteen. At least sixty percent of that weren't even teenagers yet.

They had gone down to the water well, dropped in twenty ounces of powder into the well and returned to their perch, in the middle of the day, without being seen or heard. Throughout the day, men and women came to the water well to draw supplies for the day. Little did they know they were taking their last drink of their lives.

Cerebral Acute Fever

Cerebral Acute Fever (CAF) is a man-made virus, engineered by the biological weapons program of the Empire of Layarteb. It is the most deadly virus known to man, worse than Ebola Haemorrhagic Fever. Ebola has a mortality rate of 50% - 90% whereas CAF has a mortality rate of 98% - 100%.

The CAF virus is transmitted by direct contact with the blood, secretions, organs or semen of infected persons as well as through ingestion and inhalation. The virus is engineered to be the perfect biological weapon. The virus lies dormant until it enters the bloodstream of a living creature. It then actives from the warmth and proteins in the blood. It has an incubation period of 6 - 12 hours.

Initial symptoms are a high grade fever over 104°F (40°C), violent vomiting, diarrhea. These symptoms begin once the virus becomes activated. At approximately 4 - 6 hours after activation (A+240 - A+300) much worse symptoms appear. By now the virus has completely spread throughout the entire body and attacks every internal organ, vein, artery, etc. It takes approximately 18 - 20 hours for this process to be complete, at which case the host dies. Kidney and liver failures result immediately and the organs become mucus, liquefied by the virus. The brain and heart are last to go and usually the person dies from internal bleeding and excessive shock before this stage occurs at approximately 16 - 18 hours after activation. At that time, the brain and heart become attacked and the host experiences hallucinations as well as searing chest pain, which feels like a heart attack.

However, the virus cannot live without its host and within 2 - 6 hours after the host dies, so does the virus. It can be transmitted by any animal as none have a defense against the virus. Vaccines are developed and do work but are kept top secret as well as the virus. In testing, pain factors were so severe that subjects often went unconscious or endured seizures and other rapid bodily movements such as twitching.

CAF can be delivered any number of ways. Aersols and powder are most effective either in the air or in the water supply. Contamination will cease after 72 - 96 hours, after which the virus will die, regardless of if it has a host or not. Lethal dose is 100 spores, roughly one hundred times stronger than Anthrax. Generally, infection is meant to appear as food poisoning though it rapidly develops into more.

He remembered the document about the virus, word for word. He had memorized it prior to the mission, it was all he could do to keep his sanity. He looked at the conditions it caused, the horrific way it killed, and saw how, a mere four days later, the area was safe to walk through. He would see it first hand. His unit was watching the water well. About eight hours after they poisoned it, people frantically approached it to draw water, obviously for the sick. This only made it worse and worse. People drank from the well as they pulled its water out, not knowing that it was the water that was killing them. The next day, nobody came to the well. For the next three days, the village was dead, nothing moved. Task Force 88 reported this as they watched. They moved positions thirteen times between the three days, finding nothing. It was almost as if the village vanished overnight. Still, they were under orders to wait until it was cleared and free. They would wait the maximum time. They added it up, twelve hours for incubation, timing from the very last person that came to the well, twenty hours for death, ninety-six hours after that, and seven hours for good measure. They were resupplied in the course of their mission and finally, when it was time, they put on their biological warfare gear. They were lucky that the night was cool.

With their weapons drawn, they entered the village. They would go from house to house, hut to hut, tent to tent. There was nothing but bodies, blood dried from their eyes, ears, and nose. People had pissed themselves, shit their beds, coughed up chunks of their organs. Puss and liquified organs lay in puddles by their beds, from where they vomitted out their liver, stomach, or whatever else the virus had attacked. Internal bleeding left them soft to the touch. Ears had a steady stream of dried gray, brain matter that had been liquified. Most of them were far beyond recognition, too far beyond recognition.

Michael remember each and every face he saw, children more than anyone else. He had been the one to dump the powder into the well. Whilst he was ordered to do this, he did it, he carried out the orders. He knew he couldn't ask any of his men to do it for him, he had to do it himself, it was his order, not theirs.

Now he sat on his porch, in downtown Caracas, sipping tea, watching the sunrise. The faces haunted him. The puddles made him gag. The smell made him nauseous. He noticed the lack of flies around the corpses. Animals had never entered the village. They smelled the danger and the virus, they knew exactly that the bad guys were there and that if they feasted on the death that in that village that they too would become dead.

He remembered that all vividly. When he returned he was given a medal, for his heroic actions. What heroic actions? He would ask himself each and everyday he looked at that medal, sitting with the rest of them on his mantle. He was low on hope and low on life. The best thing he could think of was writing down his experiences in the Yucatán. He wrote them in his journal, scribbled, drawings, sometimes incoherent, sometimes too clear. He called them "La Guerra que no Hombre Debe Saber" or "The War No Man Should See." He needed release from this, definite release.

October 19

0500 came and the alarm went off. COL. Delaney and his men were up and ready instantly. They showered, got dressed, and quickly got their gear on. By 0600, they were out the door and on their way to the rebel camp. It was some fifty kilometers away and they would be going there half on foot and the other half by car. Unfortunately, for them, the camp was so deeply buried in the thicket of jungles that five out of the six hours would require them to walk to the camp, in very unfriendly terrain. They were lucky, today wasn't very hot or very cold, but it was windy. The eight men got into two vehicles and moved towards the edge of the city, to the suburbs, which just ended, out of no where, and dumped into a jungle. That was as far as they could drive their vehicles, which weren't the best all terrain vehicles in the world.

It was 0649 when they got out. "Alright men, we're down to about twenty-two hours now. We've got five to get there and then we have to BS."

"Understood sir." They opened the trunks and removed their weapons. They were already dressed in camoflauge, which was made special for the jungle terrain they were in. They blended into trees and bushes like chameleons, and so, they were off, trudging through the thick underbrush of the jungle, moving eastward with each step. They trudged through the thickets, snakes all around them. They were in the Amazon rainforest, more or less the outer edge of it. Insects, some poisonous, some never before documented, crawled around them, fly past them, and jumped all over the leaves. They were in a dark place though, the canopy above them hindering most of the light. There were spots of vegetation all around them, which were, where the sun beat through. These were the patches with the bugs, the snakes, the undergrowth that they had to hide in. Animals hung above them, peering down as they trounced through the thickets. Snakes hung near them, coming down, their forked tongues almost licking their ears. "I hate snakes." The XO announced as he walked past one and smacked it hard with his right hand. He hit it so hard he fractured its skull.

"I can see why the rebels like it here." Another of the men said as he looked at a massive monkey above them, looking down at him. "Sir, let's get the hell out of here fast."

"I don't doubt that." COL. Delaney wasn't happy with the environment either and he wondered if he wouldn't use all of his bullets on animals before he even got to the camp. The two rebel leaders they were meant to contact were men by the name of Hugo and Ernesto. He didn't know much else about them except what they looked like and what their names were. He was going to find out, first hand, if they knew he was coming. Communications to the rebel camp were tricky. The rainforest canopy didn't work well for satellite transmissions and he knew that runners to the camp were just as bad of an idea. They had sent a communique on the burst transmitter but who knew if it even got to them. This was their land. He and his men only had hastly drawn maps.

They didn't stop, nor did they take any different turns from what their GPS told them. They were following a preset navigation route, which had waypoints that, as they passed, counted down the number of kilometers they had to walk. The more and more they passed through, the closer the camp got. It was only twenty-six kilometers through the jungle to the camp, on a direct line. The actual distance they would traverse was nearly triple that number. They were moving fast though, very fast.

As they approached the perimeter, COL. Delaney looked sharp. "Alright, we're here. Stay clam guys. We don't know if they know we are coming or not."

"Understood sir." They all clocked in and now they moved stealthily, through the forest, towards the camp, which was only on the other side of a massive rock formation only about sixty-five meters ahead of them. They approached it carefully, they had a slight intelligence brief about the rebels and they had mastered climbing high into the trees and setting up sniper perches. Little did he know but they were watching him and his men approach, they had become masters at sniping.

"¡Parada! ¡Nosotros le tenemos rodeó!" (Stop! We have you surrounded!)

"¡Estamos en su lado!" (We are on your side!)

"Sabemos quién usted es. ¡Pare ahora!" (We know who you are. Stop now!) The booming voice echoed over the jungle canopy and they stopped. "Hay 20 francotiradores con la cabeza en sus retículos. Ponga hacia abajo sus armas ahora o seré forzado a dispararle." (There are 20 snipers with your head in their crosshairs. Put down your weapons now or I will be forced to shoot you.)

"Cuando usted desea." (As you wish.) He looked at his men. "Lower them."

"Sir?"

"Just do it. We've got back-ups."

"Yes sir." The eight men put down their rifles and looked around. They couldn't see where the voice was coming from yet but they could definitely see that they were surrounded. There was movement above them and they were obviously in a very bad and tactically problematic situation. Then again, this was their land, not his and he knew that he would have the disadvantage here.

"¿Nosotros los ponemos hacia abajo. ..Now puede vamos?" (We put them down...Now can we go?)

"No todavía. ¿Qué es la respuesta a la ecuación de Paul?" (Not yet. What is the answer to the equation of Paul?)

"El arriba es hacia abajo y el derecho está apagado." (The up is down and the right is off.)

"Corrija. Usted nos puede seguir." (Correct. You may follow us.)

"¿Nuestras armas?" (Our weapons?)

"Usted quizás quiera tomarlos." (You might want to take them.) As he said that, three men appeared out of the thicket, all of them with standard issue, Layartebian M30A2 Assault Rifles. The eight men from Team One lifted their weapons off the floor of the rainforest and stepped towards the rock formation and the camp, escorted by the three men. Another eighteen soon joined them and off they were, moving towards the camp, which was well concealed under the canopy.

Sitting at the center of the camp, surrounded by women and men, all armed with guns, were Hugo and Ernesto, looking over a map of the jungle. They were going to be attacking a Pelepian supply convoy at dawn and they needed to rehearse where they would attack from, especially against two hundred armed soldiers. "Ah, the soldiers. From the Empire." Hugo said in good English. "Please, sit." He gestured to a row of seats that were occupied by guards, who all stood, their assault rifles in their hands, the safeties off.

"Hugo. Ernesto." COL. Delaney said as he nodded to them. "Quite a nice place you have here."

"Gracias. We do our best."

"We have good news for you. We also have bad news."

"Bad news?" He whispered in Spanish to Ernesto, who spoke no English at all. "Sir. My friend. Ernesto here. He no speak English good. I learned some, well mucho. Bad news is?"

"Malas noticias."

"Okay. Tell me. Habla."

"The Empire has to delay its next supply drop for two weeks."

"Dos?"

"Yes. And we need to borrow an M32."

"We have two. Only dos."

"We need one. If we don't have it, our task will not be completed. You will be stuck without our help if we cannot complete our task."

"Si." He motioned to some other men. "Obtenga el Rifle M32. Traiga ocho redondean." (Get the M32 Rifle. Bring eight rounds.) One of the men nodded and vanished into the base, looking for the M32 rifle and eight rounds.

"We will return it."

"Dónde?"

"That rock formation over there."

"Okay. We will give it to you."

"Gracias." Within minutes, the man was back, with a large rifle, heavy, eight rounds in two box magazines, and a smirk on his face. "We will assassinate the president."

"¿El Presidente?"

"Si."

"Okay. We wait the next supply."

"Good." They sat around for another few hours before, at 2200, the eight men left from the camp. They had been given a shortcut to the sniping spot, which overlooked a 150km² clearing, in the center of it, the estate of the President. The spot was perfect. The sun rose behind them and they had a clear shot, twenty-eight hundred and fifty-seven meters, from a small perch in the canopy, on the side of a massive hill slope, looking at the estate. Looking through their binoculars and the M32 rifle scope, they counted twenty-seven, heavily armed guards on that side of the estate, armed with Uzis, shotguns, assault rifles, carbines, submachine guns, and one even had a light machine gun.

"Enough firepower?" COL. Delaney joked as he looked through the scope. He was taking the shot, no one else. It was his leadership, his calls at the missile base. This was his atonement. He had the ranges set, the windage adjusted for, which luckily, had died down. He had four rounds loaded, one in the chamber, and he was looking right down the scope, which was nothng short of advanced. The scope had a small computer in it that ranged by the way of an invisible laser beam and calculated windage by the way of a sensor inside the scope. It all ranged out nicely to compensate for all types of environmental factors, allowing the scope to accurately estimate the correct aimpoint for the bullet, without a single part on the job of the sniper. However, COL. Delaney had been trained on the old ways and still did everything by hand and mental calculation, which was just as accurate as the computer in the scope. The only difference was that the scope did it far faster than he ever could. He didn't need to worry though, time wasn't an issue, just yet. It was only 0300 when he was completely ready, having another three hours to just sit around and wait, patiently.

"Sir. What happens if we mess this up?"

"Worried?"

"Just curious sir."

"Ever hear of The Forsaken Island?"

"Yes sir."

"It'll be our home."

"But sir?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I'm not going to miss. Just keep a look out." Conversations were minimal throughout the night. There was just too much riding on the situation and they were all planning to do this right. They would fire the shot, kill the President, and high tail it back to the rock formation and then back out of the rain forest at double the speed they came in. Then, they would get back to their hotel, pack up, and get the hell out of dodge. A diplomatic transport on the ground in Santa Cruz would transport them back to the Empire, victoriously. That was the plan and it was a hell of a plan, without any problems, except their being caught, which was very unlikely, given they were far away, hidden in camoflauge and the canopy.

The bipod held the weight of the weapon and the whole system was an astounding sixty-five pounds, scope, bullets, and bipod. That was heavy, double the weight of the fifty caliber weapons. However, this weapon packed much more punch than a fifty caliber weapon, it was a fifty-nine caliber weapon and it had a bullet that could go far, fast, and accurately.

"This guy is sure taking his sweet fucking time." COL. Delaney said as the sun rose in the background. "Must be taking a shit or something." He joked as the guards came alive around the estate. "Look, they're on their toes. The boss is awake. He has to be. Ah look at that." A bodyguard put down the morning paper and a pot of fresh coffee on a small table on the patio. "Here we go. he has to be coming now."

"Yes sir." A door opened and out stepped the President, yawning. He talked to a few of his guards and smiled as he looked at the coffee and the newspaper. He sat down and looked around. It looked like he waved them off and wanted to be in peace. "The man wants to be in peace. Alright sir. I've got two-eight-five-seven to the table."

"Roger that. Safety is off." COL. Delaney immediately got his breathing down to where it had to be and he put the crosshairs right on the chest of the President. He moved very little and sat with his paper in front of him, stretched back, drinking his coffee. "Alright, going hot." COL. Delaney steadied the rifle and took in a deep breath. Then, very easily and quietly, he squeezed the trigger, breathing out right afterwards. The gunshot echoed throughout the entire clearing, all 150 km². The bullet left the barrel of the rifle at 1,372 meters per second, twisting through the air, creating its own vortex as it flew. The shot echoed and cracked throughout the entire area. The bullet dropped significantly as it twisted across two thousand, eight hundred, and fifty-seven meters. As the bullet twisted towards the target, it slowed down and dropped with gravity.

The bullet was aimed true and on target. It sliced right through the paper, as if it weren't even there. It was through the paper and penetrating his chest cavity in milliseconds. It blew right through his breast plate, shattering every rib, and continued inward, through his heart, turning it to a fine mist, and then splitting his spine, and finally, out his back, into the concrete patio floor, where it kept going another few inches before it stopped. The bullet had so much energy to it that it blew out the entire front his chest and created an even bigger hole in his back. It was a perfect shot, right through his heart, splitting his spine, destroying his entire chest cavity. The President was dead before he knew what hit him, an expression of pure shock on his face, he died instantly.

"That's a hit!" The entire estate came alive as COL. Delaney and his team moved away from the spot, fast, towards the rock formation. They moved very quickly and very easily through the jungle, towards the rock formation. they would wind up leaving the gun and bullets there, moving back to thier vehicles, hotel, and aircraft before the news hit the rest of the country.

October 21

"The bombing was a success. Our target was killed. But we failed in the long run. The bomb did not go off at the target building. And such we will have to progress! We will have to continue!" The one hundred men listened intently as the man gave his speech. They were all hiding from the authorities, meeting in a rural Pennsylvania mining town, that had been abandoned some forty-two years ago. Sitting outside of their meeting building was a large semi-trailer, loaded with some 60,000 pounds of explosives. "Tonight, while the enemy sleeps, we will conduct the most impressive strike ever. One hundred miles away is Sunbury, the home of a very top secret airbase. We will drive our tractor trailer, straight through the front gate and blow up in the middle of the airbase. The fragmentation shall destroy jets parked far and wide, crippling a major artery of the air force and causing billions of dollars of damage to the military."

"YEAH!" They all screamed. They were pumped for this strike. This small, abandoned mining town, Rossiter, was located in the middle of the Allegheny Plateau, with coal mines all running underneath the area. The town no longer existed on the map and nobody came looking for it, ever. There was a minor problem and the revolutionaries didn't even know it. The mining town was abandoned by pure chance. It had been abandoned by a forced order from the new government, the same government they were fighting. All 790 individuals in the town had been rounded up and "relocated" right into a tunnel. Unfortunately, the tunnel collapsed. For eight years thereafter, the town was a hub of military activity. Only eight miles to the east, a large ICBM base was built and the town served as a temporary supply and rest point for construction workers. When it was all over, the town was ignored from then on, being a product merely of a "strange" occurance.

The ICBM base wasn't the only thorn for the town. Twice during the course of construction, strange lights were seen over the town. Workers passed them off as reconnaissance planes or something similar. Nobody knew what they really were or why they were really there. Buried deep, underneath the town, underneath the mines, and underneath a thick layer of rock and dirt, there was a small deposit of an unearthly mineral. The mineral was called Magnetite and it was from a crashed meteorite, some 800,000 years earlier. The meteorite was in the size of 10,000 pounds, a very large rock with a lot of Magnetite. The "strange" lights were scouting the area for the Magnetite, using some sort of scanners or detection devices. They were looking for the Magnetite, a mineral they used to power their engines for space travel. It was also a mineral that the government had used to boost nuclear warheads, providing a lot of additional power to them.

The two drivers for the attack would be two men who lived in Venezuela their entire lives. They knew what it was like before the Empire came, before their ultimate freedoms were taken. They had elections, they had less strict punishments for lesser crimes, and they owed allegiance to no man. Now they were fully part of the Empire, having been for the longest time of any non-North American land. Things were different then... They reminisced. They were nervous and that was why there were two of them. After the failure with the van to the Ministry of Intelligence, they wanted two people in the vehicle. They weren't expected to kill themselves but even they knew their chance of escaping the blast was remote, let along escaping the gunshots of the guards. They had the detonator rigged to a button or a timed device. If they set the timer they could have up to ten seconds to get as far away as possible, not enough time to get away but they had a chance, albeit a weak and pathetic one. The driver would drive. The passenger would provide cover. Armored plates had been fitted to the windows, providing only a small peephole to see forward on either side of windshield. A small gunport had been built into the armor as well, enabling the man in the passenger seat to stick the barrel of a light machine gun out and use it effectively. The weapon for the task would be the M42A1 SAW.

Their little pep rally lasted another two hours, the entire plan being discussed in massive seriousness. The plan would be to storm the front gate at the maximum speed of the loaded truck, fifty-two miles per hour. They would have enough force and momentum to tear right through the gate and then all they would have to do would be to get to the center of the airbase, perhaps a half mile or so from the gate, and detonate it. The explosion would incinerate the closest tarmac and severely weaken the structures of the hangars next to them. The force explosion would, in their wildest hopes, level all of the hardened shelters. Sixty thousand pounds of Composition B was a lot, quite a lot. They could do major damage with that much explosives and they could easily annihilate the runway with the resulting crater, which would be in the order of 27 tonnes of TNT, the largest conventional explosive device ever used against a target in one system.

The truck departed from the mining town about three hours before dawn would come. They were going to take about that long to get to the target, given the uncertainty of roads along the way to the airbase. Rural Pennsylvania wasn't exactly the most sophisticated place in the Empire and some areas were still fifty or more years behind the rest of the Empire. Travelling slowly, at about 40 miles per hour, the massive machine moved down the serpentine roads towards the airbase. The explosive force they were about to unleash was in the order of 125,520 megajoules, enough force to shatter windows miles away.

The ride towards the airbase was slow, quiet, and tense. The two men did little talking, they were too nervous and too ready to do what they were intended to do, which more or less required them to sacrifice themselves for the cause of the dissolution of the Empire, a lengthy process they were finding out. Thus far, unfortunately for them, they had not been very successful. The only success they had, which was, more or less, a draw, was the killing of the Minister of Intelligence, which happened more by pure chance than intention. This strike was going to be, in their eyes, a complete change of that line of failure.

One hundred miles away, at the airbase, four guards stood a tireless watch at the front gate. They were lightly armed, only assault rifles and a few grenades, nothing capable of stopping an eighteen wheeler. The beast of a vehicle pushed onward, moving faster and harder than before, looming on the base like a stalker of the night. Patrols at the airbase were usually managed by a small flight of aircraft ready on the runway or tarmac, depending on the time of readiness as well as, occassionally, also depending on the time of readiness, an air patrol. At the moment, the aircraft were on the tarmac, not the runway. Four point defense units sat quiet around the airbase. Two were Predator systems and the other two were LAADS systems. At the front, a single Predator sat, the only one of the four that was manned and ready to mount any defense. The other three would take at least five to ten minutes to warm up and get ready. Aside from them, a group of M2008 Dingo APVs were scattered around the base, two of them having Firefly launchers mounted on the top, both of them, however, were across the base.

The truck barrelled on, about twenty miles out, moving faster and faster. It was increasing speed, making a lot of noise as it gained speed, coming up to the maximum of fifty-two miles per hour. The road to the airbase, a mere eighteen miles now, was almost straight except for a few minor turns, that were meant to be taken at no more than forty-five miles per hour. The truck would have to slow down only slightly.

Unfortunately, for the truck's personnel, it was making more noise than they expected. The truck wasn't new and its gears were shot from extensive use. Its engine was on its last leg and it wasn't going to get much further than this single mission. At the airbase, echoes filled the area and things were becomming quite wierd. "What the hell is that?" One of the guards asked another. "That doesn't sound normal?"

"No it doesn't. Is it a plane?"

"Can't be. Radar would be picked it up."

"What about those lights?"

"They make no noise, whatever the hell they are."

"That's not usual. Let's call the CO."

"At this hour?"

"I'm not sure about this one. It sounds like something is coming."

"What about the shipping manifests?"

"Nothing is on the docket, we're all alone and quiet tonight."

"I don't think it's a good idea. If we're wrong he's going to have us canned."

"I'm not sure it is a bad idea at this point. I am sick of pulling guard duty at four in the morning, freezing my nuts off, and staring into oblivion."

"You can do it but we're not involved in this." The rumble grew louder.

The keen guard picked up the phone and immediately dialed the commander of the base. "Sir...Yes I understand...Sir we have a loud rumble coming towards the gate...No, no visual contact...I am not sure...In the area?...Very well..." He looked back and picked up the radio microphone, turning to another frequency. "The commander said to have a Stalker in the area check it out. Apparently some army guys are about fifteen miles away, conducting weapons operations. We can have them do something. He also said if it was nothing then he is going to be pissed off."

"I told you."

"Yeah, yeah. Hotel Flight...Report in, over?"

"Hotel flight is here...Who is this over?"

"Sunbury Air Force Base..."

"Go Sunbury."

"We have an unidentified rumble sound coming from the west. Advise assistance. Over."

"Roger that. We're inbound. ETA is four minutes. Over"

"Understood. Out." He put down the microphone and walked back out of the sentry post. "Call up some reinforcements. Get me both Firefly armed Dingos and an M2023A10 Stryker from the base."

"Yes sir." The guard who had made the call to the commander was the senior soldier at the gate. He had been in a full month prior to the man he was arguing with, giving him more seniority. His orders would not be followed, this was no longer a chit-chat session but a real issue. Two AH-94A Stalker attack helicopters were inbound at two hundred miles per hour. Between the two of them, they had about six hundred rounds of thirty millimeter bullets, six AGM-177B Brimstone missiles, and thirty-two CRV7 unguided rockets. They had enough to take out a single truck but not enough to deal with a major attacking force, if that was what was approaching.

The truck was eight minutes out when the call came to the AH-94s and the Dingos and Styrker arrived after two minutes. They had quite a bit of armament ready between the three vehicles and they could engage the enemy with major seriousness, whatever the enemy was that was approaching. With two MGM-187C Firefly missiles and a 105 millimeter cannon ready, they could annihilate the vehicle that was now approaching.

The minutes went by very tensely. Finally, the helicopters roared overhead and flew over the airbase at a mere 100 feet AGL. They headed right for a contact their MMW picked up as a large tractor trailer type vehicle. FLIR confirmed that, now they just needed to threaten them a little. The helicopters were equipped with loud speakers and as the helicopters came over the truck, they turned around, one to the rear of the truck and the other to the front. "Stop this vehicle immediately! You are entering a restricted area. You must stop this vehicle immediately." The PA echoed at the airbase.

"What do we do?" The driver asked.

"Keep driving. I'll handle this." He immediately poked his rifle barrel through a gunport and fired. In the darkness of the night, the muzzle flash from the rifle lit up the whole area around the truck as seventeen bullets bounced against the underside of the hull of the helicopter. Immediately, it banked. "See. We shall drive them off." They cheered in the truck as they drove onward.

"We're taking small arms fire. The truck is confirmed hostile." The helicopter would report back. At the airbase, phones began to ring and aircraft began to be warmed up. A klaxon siren pierced through the silence of the night. The airbase was under attack. The two helicopters both flew away from the truck and established themselves about three miles down the road, turned around, and went into a hover, sixty feet off the ground. The truck would see them and then see their weaponry. The men manning the arms at the gate locked up the truck as well and as it came around the final bend, a bright flash lit up the entire front gate. All of the unguided rockets from the two helicopters discharged and flew straight towards the truck at lightning speed. A single 105mm shell exploded from the striker and headed towards the cab of the truck. Two Firefly missiles immediately departed the two Dingos and flew towards the truck, making for a top-dive attack.

It almost seemed as if the munitions all hit the truck at the same time. The rockets sprayed flames and fragments all over, shattering the entire front of the cab. The 105mm shell pierced right through the armor plating in the front and detonated inside the engine block, shattering every piece of it to bits. The two Firefly missiles both pierced the top of the cab and exploded. It was over in seconds. The entire cab of the truck was obliterated and the entire truck veered to the right, into a rock face, landing on its side. It would slide about fifty feet before it came to a halt. The little that was left of the cab was burning and the rear part, which held 60,000 pounds of explosives sat quietly, for now. Nobody moved. The Dingos reloaded their missiles and the Stryker reloaded its gun. They were ready to fire again, if there were more, even though there was no signs of any more. Everything was quiet, too quiet.

"You two. Out front. You. With me." The gate commander gave the orders and they all began to approach the truck, which was about twelve hundred meters away, burning in fury and flames. They had their rifles raised and were moving cautiously and slowly. The flames and fragments had already pierced the trailer section and a small fire was burning inside of it already, which was very dangerous. The internal temperature of the trailer rose quickly and after no more than four hundred meters of walking towards the truck, it exploded. The four men were thrown backwards, hitting the ground hard, as the ground shook and rumbled. A massive fireball, at least fifty meters across, rose up from the truck and rolled into the sky. A shockwave shattered the glass on every structure on the airbase facing the explosion. Buildings shook and the alarms were triggered. The deafening sound of the explosion made the ears of everyone standing at the gate ring. The Dingos were pushed back and the Stryker lifted up sixteen centimeters off the ground, before it slammed back down. The entire rockface gave way and collapsed, leading to a massive rockslide on both sides of the vehicle that not only covered the vehicle and the roadway but triggered a chain of events that would lead to over two hundred tons of rock and dirt covering the roadway, isolating the base from any traffic. The fireball would rise up some two kilometers or more, the heat being felt all across the airbase. The four men who were approaching the vehicle suffered flash burns on their face and hands, their weapons hot to the touch. One of them would never again be able to use his eyesight in the matter of 20/20 and would be restricted to having to wear glasses for the remainder of his days.

Both helicopters were unharmed but they were violently shaken, being forced to put down on the runway to ensure that everything was still fine. The explosion was massive, thirty tons of Composition B, which was far more than any conventional explosive, short of 100 ton pre-nuke tests saw.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Confirmed Body Count: 96
Unconfirmed Body Count: 260+

Chapter IV: Overburdened

On October 23, the Layartebian Central Justice Agency announced that it had seventeen arrest warrants to serve for members of a terrorist organization known as the 'Republican Liberation Army.' The terrorist group was known to have a few thousand members and have major operating safe houses in all four provinces of the Empire and the two republics. They had but one cause, the re-establishment of the Republic and the abollition of the Empire, beginning with the death of the Emperor after trial. They were, by all means, hostile. The CJA announced their names and put their faces all over the evening news left and right, on every channel. They would do so everyday until they were caught. Each one of them had a bounty on their capture ranging between §100,000 to §2,500,000.

The problem was that the CJA did not have a location for the terrorist group, only names and faces. In light of this, they would establish the Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force (ADTF) to combat the group. They would be codenamed "Alpha Group" because they were the first in such a way. There were counter-terrorist groups in existence but most were military related or part of black operations. This was the first non-military group created, especially underneath the justice agency. The CJA was paramount to the law enforcement of the Empire. All local police units, SWAT teams, and so on and so fourth, were part of the CJA.

The 'RLA' was the main group that had already blown up a bomb in Layarteb City, downed an airliner over Tennessee, and now attacked a military base. Whether or not they had been part of the attack on the missile base was something that was still an unknown. It was probable that they were not part of that insurrection but also possible that they were, it depended. Investigations were still underway into that situation, albeit the situation had not been made public, yet.

The 'RLA' had a massive compound and the military had photographed it more than a dozen times. The only thing was that the military didn't photograph it because they knew the 'RLA' owned it. They had photographed it during training missions to keep their U-2 and SR-71 pilots on the ball.

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RLA Compound.

The compound was located in a very rural area of the Empire, in Layarteb. It was situated in a town in Alabama, about one hundred and fifty-seven miles north of Mobile. It was just north of Clinton, close to the border with Mississippi. An airfield near Tupelo, Mississippi, based a group of SR-71 Blackbirds and U-2 Dragon Ladies. The airfield was part of the Imperial Layartebian Space Division and was kept very hush-hush and well protected. The last photograph of the compound had been seven weeks prior during a training mission. The compound served as something similar to a military bunker or presidential palace that the ILM would be facing during a war.

At the compound were about eighty people, including two very prominent members of 'RLA.' One was the group leader, a man by the name of David Kirk. He was a man from the days of the Republic, believed to have been executed by the Emperor and his forces shortly after the fall of the Republic in 1980. He was the Vice-President and though he initially supported the revolution and the overthrow of the President, it was more for his own greed and hunger for power than anything else. When it was evident he would not become the leader of the new government and when it was evident that the new government would not be democratic, he announced that he did not support the revolution any longer. That was when he went into hiding. He was supposedly executed by those loyal to the Emperor shortly thereafter and his hiding place burned to the ground. The charcoaled remains of seventeen individuals inside were never identified nor could they be identified. He was alive and well, his death stagged. He was now sitting in the compound, directing shots against the Empire as if it were a boardgame, sending men to die, to kill as many of the Emperor's men as possible.

The other man sitting in the compound was Dr. Joseph Waters, who had gone missing on the morning of October 13. CJA officials believed it to be a kidnapping but it didn't look like one. There were just too many questions left unanswered about the whole situation. Dr. Waters had written quite a large number of publications concering revolution, the Empire, the Republic, and the history of all things related to those topics with concern to Layarteb. He had one work unpublished; however, and it was found searching his apartment. The work was called The Return of the Republic and it unnerved officials. He wrote about the ills of the Empire and how the Republic would return, overthrowing the Emperor and the Empire as a whole. It discussed the injustices of the Empire and talked about how they would be corrected. All-in-all, the 1,500 page manuscript looked as if it had only been completed recently and it was complete at that, having been the work of Dr. Waters for the better part of the last sixteen years.

Now he was sitting in the compound, educating and indoctrinating hundreds of people each week on the ills of the Empire and pushing for revolution. He was one of the most respected elites of the Empire and chances were, if his manuscript was published, it would recieve support. The CJA concluded that the only copy was at the apartment. Unfortunately, they were wrong. When Dr. Waters stagged his own kidnapping, he took with him six Flash Drives, each capable of holding some 5GB of information. They were loaded with maps, plans, intelligence, and so on and so fourth, files not to be found on his computer, which had been, regrettably, smashed by the kidnappers, the hard-drives stolen. In actuality, they were sitting at the bottom of lake about fifty miles away. The only thing left was the manuscript, left on purpose, to decieve the CJA and it was working.

The compound was classified as a religious compound for Quakers and thus left alone. It was tended by a small farm and observers could see people tending to the farm on a daily basis and thus it was left alone. The Empire had no quarrel with religion nor did it seek to meddle with the affairs of religion, unless it meddled in the affairs of the Empire. Quakers were known to not bother in politics and were found here and also in Pennsylvania. They were pacifists and thus they were ignored mostly. Their men were drafted at 18 but were given desk-jobs and other jobs that would keep them from actually fighting.

The compound wasn't a bunch of Quakers though. It was a bunch of revolutionaries and they had quite an armory at the compound. They had at least fifty assault rifles, one hundred pistols, at least sixty shotguns, and ten light machine guns. By the end of the month those numbers would be doubled or trippled. They were robbing an armory in South Carolina at the end of the month and with it, a lot of bullets and a lot of weapons. They would be stashing the arms and the ammunition in the basement of the compound and proceed to continue their opreations against the Empire.

bring down their heartrate, which averaged fifty beats per minute, resting. They were highly in shape.

I was an LPN for 15 yrs a pulse of 50 doesn't mean your in shape it means you have a cardio/pulmonary trouble ususally. When someone's resting HR goes that low they are usually lethargic.

I was an LPN for 15 yrs a pulse of 50 doesn't mean your in shape it means you have a cardio/pulmonary trouble ususally. When someone's resting HR goes that low they are usually lethargic.

Athletes usually have low heartbeats. When I ran track I was resting at 56.

Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis, leading the ADTF, was on the television daily in various commericals that he had filmed in efforts to capture the RLA. One commerical he shot showed him, on a street, with a bunch of kids playing stickball. It was a nice day, summer, and it showed a van coming down the street driven by two very seedy men. Then, the van blew up. The message was simple, "Don't let the RLA harm your children!" It was effective, especially against mothers, the main target of the campaigns. If women, who had children, were afraid of their children being killed by an RLA terrorist then they were going to keep a look out. Nosey women who paid attention to everyone's business were going to be paying more attention.

At the RLA compound in Alabama, those inside preached hatred and insolence against the Empire. They showed the ads and branded them as horrible attempts to scare the public into believing the RLA was out to get them, not the government. All of this was true but in the war of propaganda, the Empire had much better propaganda. They stocked up on their arms, robbed when they could, assaulted who they could, and attacked who they could. They were even planning a double strike on two airliners to happen on October 25. The two airliners would be heading from Layarteb City towards the interior of the province. Bombs planted would be used to bring both airliners down. The bombs were plastic explosives, packed tightly into walkmen or cd players and placed into the carry-on luggage of individuals boarding the plane, surreptitiously, by expert pick-pockets.

Both airliners were taking off from the same terminal and the gates were next to each other. Flight 3 was heading from Layarteb City to Louisville, Kentucky and flight 77 was heading to South Carolina. Both of them were from Layarteb Airways, meant to hurt and raise shock towards the public about flying on their airlines. They had already "blown up" a Layarteb Airways flight over Tennessee, even though it was the cause of a SAM but who was going to make that public.

As the two airlines sat sitting at their gates, the two women in the terminal worked cautiously. They would bump into a guy, drop papers or a bag, have it "accidentally" open, and then, in the scramble to pick things up, place the device in the bags. They were not only using the natural gentleman-type attitude by men of the Empire but also their feminine wiles. Once the bombs were placed, that was it, they were home free. They would leave and watch the news. Men sitting near the airport, using binoculars, would watch the aircraft, get the serial numbers, and detonate the bombs by radio detonator. They wanted to detonate one right away and the other shortly thereafter, giving maximum chaos. Emergency services would already respond to the first and then, when the second went off, it would cause more confusion since most of the emergency services would already be deployed.

As the two airliners, a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 lifted off the ground and began their routes, thing became very chaotic. The Airbus A300 banked to the north, going over the Queens area, more or less, Belle Harbor. As it did, moving at 240 mph and climbing through an altitude of 3,000 feet, the bomb went off in the knapsack of a passenger in the rear of the aircraft. The resulting explosion was catastrophic, blowing off the rear section, including the rear stabilizer. The plane went into a violent yaw and slammed down into the ground, igniting homes on fire and instantly killing all 260 individuals on board the aircraft. The resulting fires would kill another 5 people on the ground.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight77-001.jpg
Charred houses of Belle Harbor.

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Charred remains of a house and a car in Belle Harbor.

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Burning neighborhood in Belle Harbor.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight77-004.jpg
Wreckage of the airliner.

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Wreckage of the airliner.

Further north, over Cove Neck, the resulting explosion was minor. It went off near the wing of the aircraft, severely damaging the elevator on one side of the plane. The pilot would struggle for ten minutes, trying to keep the plane level, eventually being overcome. The plane crashed onto the ground in a belly landing and though the fuel tanks were not ruptured, started a fire in three houses that it struck. In all, 73 people would die on that crash.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight3-001.jpg
Wreckage of Flight 3.

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Wreckage of Flight 3.

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Wreckage of Flight 3.

The real problem was that Flight 3 landed in a more secluded, wooden area of Long Island. Reaching the aircraft with emergency equipment was difficult, far more difficult than Flight 77. It was a dark day for the Empire.

Later on that day, a video released by the RLA stated, "The Empire cannot protect you. Its claim of law and order and universal protection of its people is a farce. The government must be replaced." This was the first statement released by the RLA since their campaign began.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Empire. I come to you tonight, October 26, with a heavy heart. Over the past sixteen days, terrorists calling for the abolition of the Empire, the death of me, the Emperor, and the return of the weak Republic, have gone on an unrelenting killing spree, targetting civilians, primarily.

"They have blown up three, civilian, commerical, undefended airlines through the use of plastic explosives. They have assassinated the Minister of Intelligence, destroyed a newspaper office, and caused horrific damage to several other structures. They have attempted to use a large truck bomb against an Air Force Base.

"Their attacks have killed four hundred and thirty-four, innocent, unarmed civilians. They have released statements condemning those killed as enemies of freedom. They have called the Empire evil, have accused us of enslaving all of you, and have called for the burning of our constitution, and our laws. They have called for the release of all criminals, the same ones that have raped, murdered, robbed, assaulted, and violated the safety, sanctity, and trust of their victims. They have called for the disbanding of the Imperial Layartebian Military, the same military that has given freedom from tyrannical rule, from uncertain anarchy, and from unsafe governments to so many people.

"They have called for the deaths of our soldiers, your sons and your brothers and your friends and your husbands and your boyfriends. They have called for the deaths of all those who support the Empire, the billions of you.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Empire. Today is a sad day that I must decree the following. Martial law will not be declared, I assure you. I must decree, in order to protect the safety of all four and a half billion citizens of the Empire, that heightened security measures be enacted. Soldiers must walk the streets to ensure the safety of everyone. Our civilian police force can only do so much. Elite counterterrorism units are limited in size. We must do what is necessary to protect the Empire.

"Goodnight and I wish that this situation ends without any more innocent bloodshed. Thank you." The Emperor signed off. It was short speech, one that was not without power. Network news agencies talked about, analyzed, and referenced the speech throughout the remainder of the night and into the next afternoon. It was official, the RLA were terrorists and the Emperor was personally after them. Many officials throughout the government would label the campaign against the RLA a crusade for safety, freedom, and the Empire, to rout out the evil of society, the evil that pledged the destruction of the Empire.

As the Emperor gave his speech, a fourteen man team from ADTF were storming an apartment in downtown Layarteb City. They were armed with M43A2 SMGs and M43A5 SMGs and M33A1 Pistols. Using M58 Stun Grenades, they moved throughout the 1,600 square foot apartment and its multiple rooms. The raid saw the capture of seventeen RLA lieutenants and the death of three of them. One ADTF officer was wounded when a 5.7 x 28mm bullet from a Five-seveN pistol tore through his shoulder, piercing his body armor, what the bullet was meant to do. He would be fine, although he would be out of action for a few weeks, four at the most. The individual who shot him, on the other hand, was permanently out of commission, having recieved a straight six round, double burst of 9mm rounds at ten meters to his throat. The bullets tore right through and he bled out on the floor, his spinal chord being severed by the last two shots.

Recovered documents told ADTF agents of another possible bombing, this one in the subway system. The information was vague and it was to use seventeen, separate, conventional explosives rigged with steel, ball bearings or nails, to produce as much fragmentation as possible. The documents would be processed through all intelligence channels. Still, the base of operations for the RLA remained a hidden secret.

October 28

Friday, October 28, proved to be something more than anyone bargained for, especially not the Emperor. Still rearing from the disaster over Layarteb City and Long Island, the aviation industry was hurting bad. They had already recieved a staggering 18% cancellation in all flights in and out of Layarteb City, a high loss, even though there weren't any refunds given. The sky over the city was gloomy. A terrible storm was rolling in from the south and though it was not expected to do anything but rain and make everything windy, its presence made the day all the worse.

Everything went haywire around 1430, when the Layarteb News Network made the announcement, an announcement that shook the very foundations of the Empire. The LNN came out with a special report segment and although it was brief, it hit home very hard.

"This just in," network anchor Shepherd Smith beamed, "a source close to the LNN has revealed that there was, in fact, an uprising in the Yucatán state, in the province of Ynoga. It appears this uprising was in the middle of the summer and may have been concluded this past September. No word yet on the details but it appears the uprising was squashed and quelled very brutally. We hope to have more on this situation throughout the rest of the day." Throughout the rest of the day every news network save the one state-run media outlet, speculated and talked about this "uprising" in the Yucatán. The source was definitely being kept secret. Governmental officials, hiding in the LNN and other major media outlets, sniffed around as best as they could but whomever this "source" was, he or she wasn't about to be revealed.

On Governor's Island, the Emperor sought immediate damage control. Press releases condemning the "unfounded" claim were sent to everyone, each news network airing them with a sense of laughter to them. Someone had squealed and the incident that saw more bloodshed than the Kaliningradian War was now public. It was a dark day in Layarteb City and an even darker day for the Empire. The Mayans had wanted independence, albeit the way they were going about it was certainly wrong. The same themes and issues that the Emperor raised only two days earlier were the same ones squashed and defeated in the Yucatán. He couldn't look like more of a hypocrit if he tried. This would only help the cause of the RLA.

Slowly but surely, throughout the course of the day, some details were released. The battle was bloody with tens of thousands of Mayans killed, perhaps almost a hundred thousand. The Mayans had wanted independence from the Empire but they were going about it through the use of arms, learing from the Kaliningradians. The Yucatán state was "invaded" by a large contingent of Layartebian soldiers and the rebellion was brutally squashed, many towns and villages remaining burned and charred to the day. All news agencies sent reporters to the area, to many villages, trying to catch a glimpse of what happened. Some of them still remained leveled. The one village that was the source of the CAF virus still hadn't been cleaned up and reporters stumbled upon it en masse. The secret was out.

Over the next two days, pictures flooded into every news agency of villagers who were wounded in the war, villages that were leveled, destroyed army equipment, dead bodies, horrific scenes, and so on and so fourth. The village that had been hit with the CAF virus, Kuxeb, was immediately quarantined. The government labelled the place as the source of a dangerous outbreak of a possible new strain of virus that had either come from Malaria or Jungle Fever. The town was no longer accessible although at least a hundred reporters remained camped outside the village, hoping to get a glimpse of just what was going on. Biological Disaster, Containment, Quick-Reaction Forces (BDCQRFs) stormed into the village with tents, biohazard gear, and a lot of fancy equipment. They knew that it was CAF virus and they had no intention of making that public. A cover story was already being written up and until it was ready the answer would be simple, "We do not know." Everyone was briefed and everyone was aware. They knew what happened there but they weren't about to admit that the most powerful, most deadly, most secretive, biological weapon in the world existed in the hands of the Empire and had been used against its own citizens.

Damage control was utterly necessary!

October 30

"Today, on the eve of Layarteb's 848th anniversary of independence, the government has far less to celebrate about than it expected. The Empire has been recently shown to have conducted a secret, brutal, and devestating war in the Yucatán state over the past few months, a brutal war that put a stop and hampered any push or feelings for independence. Reports from the state are difficult to obtain. Few villagers are willing to speak about the horrors and atrocities that occured in the state and the government has kept silent on matters concerning the situation in the Yucatán. One can only wonder." Shephard Smith signed off his show and the Layarteb News Network went on to cover some preparations for the independence day ceremony that would take place tomorrow.

The government was preparing a large fireworks display in Layarteb City Harbor. Four barges were being set up, loaded with fireworks, enough for a four hour straight display of glory and praise. Dances, celebrations, and the like would be going on throughout Layarteb City for the entire night and into the next morning. No shops were open past six in the evening on the day and the fireworks would begin at nine. Other cities across the Empire would celebrate the independence too but none were as focused as those in Layarteb City.

On Governor's Island, inside the ancient castle of the Empire, the Emperor was at his desk, in the low light of his office. He had just finished a meeting only eighteen minutes earlier, discussing the news coverage of the Yucatán. The main goal was to identify the source, who was apparently already in the process of publishing a novel about it. He had a deal and a contract and the manuscript was already finished and on its way to print. It was guaranteed a half million copies in its first year and the government was doing its best to find out who the author was. There was no way of knowing without a lot of dirty work and in response to that, they were doing what they could. The Central Justice Agency was in the process of figuring out who it was, while the men of Force Falcon worked as investigators, prying into the databases of the news networks and the publishing company for anything that they could use.

Colonel Delaney and his group of feared men were investigating the publishing company every night. They had successfully gotten in twice and downloaded only about twenty-eight percent of the database. Tonight, they were planning on getting another thirty-two percent. They posed as a night workman crew each and every night, working on the air conditioning ducts, which had mysteriously become clogged on the twenty-eighth, after the announcement was made and the publisher identified.

As they gained access that night, they met a few extra security guards, who were all a little too nosey. As Colonel Delaney distracted them and led them to the main air conditioner room, while four of his men went off to the database terminal. As they did, the security guards became more and more concerned that Colonel Delaney and only three of his men were around. "The rest are looking on the roof." He assured them. "We believe that, quite possibly, a bird has gotten into the ducts and built a large nest."

"Is that a problem you can fix tonight?"

"We hope so. If not, we will have to come back tomorrow. I understand that tomorrow is independence day but if this clog is only amplified, comes summer time, it will be that much more difficult to remove. We must continue our work, uninterrupted."

"I understand but in light of all that is going on, I imagine you've seen the news?"

"I have. I'm pretty sick about it, I have to say. Independence, this and that. I think there's more to it. The government isn't telling us everything and it's going to have serious backlash. I served in that Kaliningrad mess and it was a mess. I can't imagine to tell you the horrors I saw there. I don't want to imagine what the Yucatán looks like."

"Well. I guess we'll let you guys go."

"Thanks. We'll be here. Listen, we're going to order some pizza tonight. If you genetlemen want any?"

"You know, that's a good idea. We'll come find you."

"Sure thing." Colonel Delaney gave his men a look as they left. When it was safe, he looked back at them. "We need to finish this up tonight. These people are getting way to suspicious."

"Yes sir."

As the night bore on, the four men at the database terminals worked quickly to download what they needed to and to get that stuff transfered to their flash drive disks, of which they had fifteen between them. They filled up each and every one of them with the information necessary. They ordered pizza, on time and on schedule, all eight of them and six security guards eating in the lounge on the second floor.

When that was over, it was back to their jobs. They were all back where they were, the four men, "on the roof" and the other four were monitoring some ducts on the third floor. As they were going about their business, things became even more problematic.

Around three in the morning, as the men in the database terminal were finishing up, two of the security guards stumbled upon them. That was when things couldn't have gone worse for the government. "Hey! What are you doing!" They yelled at the four men. "This is Wilkins. Apprehend the rest of the AC crew, they're hacking the database."

"Hey guys, this isn't what it looks like," one of the men from Force Falcon said. "Yeah it really isn't."

"Bullshit. Shut your mouth and lets go." The guards displayed their firearms, which were Baretta 92F pistols. On their com sets, the rest of the team heard what was going on in the terminal room.

"The gig is up guys. Let's bolt." Colonel Delaney said as he and the rest of his men made their way towards the exit. "Gold team. Clear out if you can. Avoid capture at all costs. Make sure you take the database information."

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir? Who are you talking to?"

"You of course."

"What is going on here?"

"Fixing the air conditioners."

"In here?"

"Yes."

"Save it. Put your hands on your head and move now." The two guards were nervous and they didn't know who they were dealing with. They weren't about to take any chances.

As the four men complied, Colonel Delaney and his men began moving out of the building when they were suddenly stopped by the other four security guards. "Stop right there!" They yelled, two in front of them and two behind them, guns drawn.

Shit! Colonel Delaney thought as he looked around. "Gentlemen. Something wrong?"

"Hands up now!"

"What is going on?"

"HAND'S UP!"

"Okay, okay. I think this is an overreaction. I mean we may have broken a light or two by accident but..."

"Hush up!" The guards were serious and Colonel Delaney and his men were definitely in for serious trouble. "Now. Down on the ground. On your knees."

"Is this really necessary?"

"Shut up! Alright, cuff them."

"You don't think this is an overreaction? I do."

"Be quiet now!"

"Have it your way." Colonel Delaney immediately, with a flash of movement, drew his pistol from his side holster, the other men doing the same. Without a second thought, they all fired, putting one round each into the four men. They all dropped down, bullets having split open their heads and pierced their hearts. The gunshots echoed throughout the building and on the third floor, the men took the hint and drew their weapons, putting the other two guards down with single shots each. Now it was time to evacuate and fast. They met up in the security control terminal and initiated a virus that would eliminate the entire security camera database.

Then, they evacuated and did so fast. By the new monring, the "botch up" at the publishing center was all over the news and it was immediately linked to the government. With the way the guards were killed, it was professionally done. There just weren't enough men who were that capable who weren't part of the military. Something was definitely up.

October 31

As celebrations continued into the night in Layarteb City, the entire Empire held its breath. When the Emperor spoke he made no allusions to the crisis that was brewing, nor did we address any concerns with the RLA. He spoke on behalf of the Empire and commemorated the 848th birthday of Layarteb.

The Empire was in a fragile state, internally. The populace were beginning to put a distrust in their government and beginning to feel as if they could not be protected from domestic terrorism. The Empire had seen some rivalry groups throught its course and some acts of terrorism, such as spawned from and during the Kaliningradian debacle and in the Yucatán but this was far different. The enemy knew the ground and they had contacts throught the Empire. What they really had was a massive, friendly network.

Until now, the identity of the RLA was pretty secretive. The Central Justice Agency knew little about them except their basic modus operandi and their cause but that was about it. Funding for them, support for them, and logistics for them was an unknown. The CJA just didn't know those things and it was problematic that they didn't. They also didn't know where they were based, which was an even bigger problem.

The real problem was, more or less, resting in the hands of their supporters. They were being supported by a network of 10s of thousands of people, all of them part of the Freemasons, a secret society inside the Empire, although not completely secret. Their existence was known and they penetrated mostly the academic circles. They weren't regarded as a threat by anyone in the government, especially not in the CJA. However, they were a threat. The members of the Freemasons were propping up and supporting the RLA. They mostly consisted of professors, doctors, scholars, and other elites of society and a massive portion of them believed in the ideals of the Republic. Several of them had been senators or representatives underneath the Republic. The President of the Republic, upon his execution, was a member of the Freemasons.

The Freemasons just provided the support, they weren't the actual architects of the "new" revolution. Those were the Illuminati, a secretive group that derived its members from the Freemasons. The Freemasons numbered between ten and thirty thousand, with the actual number most likely around the thirty thousand mark, and growing. The Illuminati, on the other hand, numbered less than six hundred. Despite being spread out and regarded as ineffective, they were making headway. They had organized the RLA and gave it birth, persuaded the Freemasons to support them, and, above all else, were seeing to it that the CJA kept the Freemasons off their watch list. It was more than a conspiracy, it was a secret war, run against the Empire.

The Illuminati had a lot to gain from the return of the Republic. The majority of the Republican senators and representatives in the Freemasons were part of the Illuminati, a group they founded in the Empire ages before but never having a reason to use it until now. The Illuminati penetrated at least forty percent of the media outlets in the Empire. Combined with the Freemasons, they penetrated over eighty-five percent. They were very powerful and they guided the Freemasons along their path. The leader of the Freemasons in the Empire, Johnathan Howser, a legal scholar for the University at Falcon City, was good friends with the leader of the Illuminati, Garrick Sloventry. Sloventry used his friend to guide the Freemasons along a path of self-destruction, something the Illuminati were known to do. Since their beginnings in Layarteb they had always used others to do their dirty work and their biddings, especially since the removal of the Republic.

As the celebrations commenced throughout the Empire, these two men met, in secrecy, in Layarteb City. In the "heart of the beast," as the capital was known to them, they sipped scotch and watched out the balcony at the fireworks festival. They had much to discuss, especially in terms of the latest news. "So explain to me, again, why I shouldn't think this break-in at LPU was orchestrated?" Howser asked. He always had his doubts and he was skeptical. "This looks more like a hit from a rival company to me than a government ingress."

"Black agents my good friend. Look at the way it was done. The security tapes are gone. The suspects are air conditioner repairmen, who just happen to be able to shoot six, armed guards, with their guns drawn, six times, in the head. That's training. Hitmen don't go for headshots like that. They do the standard two in the chest, one in the head technique, which is taught to special forces and all armed forces. These are guys with training unlike any other."

"But hitmen have the same training no? Aren't most of them ex-Special Forces?"

"Most of them are. Ours are. But these guys are better. They're tactful and they have support. They remain completely cWment[/u] scandal but I don't think it is them this time. Yes we're talking a lot of money, especially with a guaranteed half million copies at §30 a piece but I think this goes beyond them."

"You could be right. But there's no way to prove it."

"No feasible way."

"What do you mean?"

"Security cameras outside the building, watching the streets. Surely they've been tampered with also correct?"

"I would think so."

"Well all of those go to national backup, which cannot be tampered with."

"You mean the CJA supercomputer?"

"Yes."

"You want us to hack it?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"Think of what would happen to our credibility if we were caught?"

"We don't have to be caught you know."

"This is mad. There's such a strong chance we will be..."

"Sorry to cut you off. We have men on the inside you know."

"With that capability?"

"Yes."

"I'll have to talk with the council on this. They aren't going to like it."

"Do they ever?"

November 2

Slowly but surely the smoke cleared. A major fire had erupted at a factory in New Jersey and burned for the last thirty-two hours. Firefighters struggled to get it under control, losing two in the process, when the roof collapsed in the northeastern corner. It was suspected that the fuel for the fire and its origin was being supplied by that corner. Unfortunately, the two firemen fighting over there were not very lucky.

Thirty-Six Hours Earlier

"Sir, what are we doing here?" The hooded man asked, stepping out of the van. He was with another three people, all of them upper echelon's in the RLA He was just a peon, a foot soldier brought in to cover their asses, in case they were caught. His name was Nicholas Malakay and he was barely twenty. Concerned and scared he wondered what was going on when they loaded the van with barrels of gasoline and putty but he wasn't too sure what they were for after all, he wasn't the brightest person in the world.

"Nick. Be quiet. I told you once and I'll tell you again. You are to keep your mouth shut and do what we tell you or else I swear, so help me God, I am going to pulverize you. Understood?" The man speaking was his superior, Mark Thomas. Thomas was a well-known RLA figure in the northeast. He had set up and planned the entire operation to blow up the Ministry of Intelligence and he had set up the airliner crash that happened on the 25th of October. The other two men were unknown to either Mark or Nick. Their names, for this operation, were Couger and Panther. In reality, they were serious commanders in the RLA, both of them in charge of 3/4 of all the operations being done.

"Be quiet. Both of you. Let's move out. Get the barrels. We're going in." Couger spoke.

"Yes sir." Mark nodded to Nick to begin unloading the barrels and the items as both Couger and Panther walked towards the door. A security guard was out there to meet them and they handed him a silver, metal briefcase, filled with money, §250,000 to be exact. He smiled and walked away, towards his car. Within twelve hours he would be in the middle of nowhere, in Elephanti Mexico, with his family and his entire house and possessions. He would be able to buy far more down there than he could ever imagine in Layarteb.

Both of the men came back and as usual, Couger spoke, Panther remaining silent. "The place is clear. We have four hours to get this set up and get the warehouse on fire. We will be working on the northeast corner because that is where most of the flammables are. If we can ignite a blaze there it will hit the roof and keep going across the entire warehouse. Correct?" He looked at Panther, who simply nodded. Panther was an explosives and demolitions expert, having learned all of his skills in the ILM when he was eighteen. Now he was thirty-six. "So let's get moving." They used a handtruck to bring in the barrels. To the naked eye it would appear as if they were delivery men, dropping off chemicals for the next day. This practice was usual and often, during the night, chemical companies would drop off their deliveries. This was done to limit the number of people who could be hurt and to allow for the least amount of problems with people getting in the way.

For two hours they offloaded the barrels and boxes and then, inside, strategically placed them throughout the corner, making sure to cover their asses with an escape route. The fire would flash quickly and powerfully and if they weren't careful, they would be burned in the fire. As they set up the boxes accordingly to Cougers instructions, Panther set up the gasoline trails that would be used to light the blaze. Putty would be used to split the gasoline in various ways and to also increase the heat. By the time they were done, they lit the fire and ran like hell. Before they were down the road, the fire flashed and the gasoline barrels exploded, causing a chain reaction which would ignite the entire warehouse within an hour. Fire crews had no chance.

As arson investigators combed the wreckage they came up with four bodies, who were all identified as security guards, one of which was the security guard in Mexico. All of them had been shot and it was definitely known, this was arson. The bullets used were military issue .40SW rounds, fired from an M33A1 semi-automatic pistol, standard issue for the military. The execution-style murders made this a professional job and by the time the arson investigators were finished it was definitely arson. Under the law, arson of this destructive nature would warrant life in prison without parole or visitation and often brought heavy punishments for solitary confinement and hard labor. However, because two firefighters were killed, as a result of the blaze, it was immediately bumped to first-degree murder. The individuals responsible would face the death penalty and a tough one at that.

The Empire used several forms of the death penalty: electrocution, hanging, the gas chamber, a pressure chamber, firing squad, boiling, and other horrific processes. Killing military, law enforcement, or emergency personnel usually warranted a very unfriendly and very painful method. Often these individuals would be killed through the pressure chamber, a pulling table, slow boiling, or other punishments designed to inflict serious pain and discomfort for the longest amount of time posible.

As the news reporters were covering the disaster, the real reason was being uncovered inside the Emperor's castle. The warehouse was not just any, ordinary warehouse. It was a backup terminal for the Central Justice Agency. Those computers were stored in the basement and though they were protected from fire and water damage, as well as smoke damage, they were put offline for at least ten minutes, as the power went off and the backup systems took over. The blast and fire was an attempt to destroy the CJA terminal in the basement vault of the factory and it had been done deliberatly. The RLA were definitely becomming more aggressive.

As the government surmised it was an attempt to attack the terminal they were wrong. The ten minutes of offline time was enough for elite computer hackers from the Illuminati to break into the terminal and download all of its data, using very high-speed, fiber optic networks. The fire throughout the building would destroy the record-log computer, which monitored data flow into and out of the vault. This had been done with care and precision and now the Illuminati had more information than they could handle.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Confirmed Body Count: 445
Unconfirmed Body Count: 606+

Chapter V: Rosenrot

The reign of terror of the RLA was horrific. They had caused several million shringrots worth of damage, including the downing of two airliners, though credited for three. They burned down an entire warehouse and hacked into a CJA backup terminal underneath the warehouse. In addition, over the past month, things had gone from bad to worse. The Pelepian president had been assassinated, cut in half more like it. Terrorists attacked a Layartebian airbase, though they failed in the process. They killed the Minister of Intelligence and they had nearly leveled a whole city block in Layarteb City.

The RLA and their Illuminati leaders and funders were going to move to the next step, which would further the fear and the insecurity in the populace. They were going to seize a border school and strike fear and hell into the eyes of the civilian populace of the Empire. The goal was to ensure that the populace felt they could not protected by the government and demand its dissolution. The Empire founded itself on law, order, and security.

The school was located in a rural town inside New Hampshire. The school was home to about twelve hundred students, aged between five and eighteen. Most of them were from wealthy families within the area, which was about twenty-five miles. The school had a small security force, consisting mostly of unarmed guards who were in their fifties. There was a small contingent of armed guards, perhaps fifteen, all of them about thirty, although they were armed with, at best, pistols, nothing that powerful.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/stpaulsschool-01.jpg

As the sun rose on November 5, two delivery trucks rolled up to the main gate at Saint Paul's School. The driver of the first, Jason Bridges, smiled and looked at the guard. "We're delivering food."

"You're late." The guard asked. "You guys were due over two hours ago."

"Right on. Yes we had a problem with the battery. We had to change it and unfortunately the three batteries we had in the shop were all dead so we had to get them from another shop. It took a little longer than expected."

"And the food is spoiled?"

"Hardly. We loaded the food after the battery problem."

"Okay. In you go." The guard lifted the gate and the two vehicles entered slowly. Instead of carrying meat and perishibles inside their refrigerated boxes they were each holding forty terrorists, armed with explosives and assault rifles. They drove through the main entrance way and onto the campus, where they moved no faster than the ten mile per hour speed limit, to keep suspicion down. They moved to the main building, which was home to the dinning halls, the kitchen, and the main administrative offices. In addition, the dormitories were there. The main building had 500 rooms alone, quite a lot to secure. With a total of eighty-four terrorists, they had enough firepower to do that and they had the resolve and will to shoot anyone who didn't cooperate.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/stpaulsschool-02.jpg

The vans backed up to the loading docks at 0608 and once the loaders opened the door they were staring at forty, heavily armed, and heavily angered men. "DOWN! GET DOWN OR DIE!" They screamed as the terrorists poured into the school. The four men inside the cabs each did the same, coming through the back of the box through a small door inside the cab.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/stpaulsschool-03.jpg

They were carrying a myriad of assault rifles, kevlar, and tactical gear. As they stormed through, they shot both workers in the head with their silenced pistols. As they moved inward, through the recieving bay, they shot two more, including an armed guard, who put up little resistance. Then, they split off into multiple groups. The main group was twelve people and they were moving towards the main dining hall to secure it. The other seventy-two people split into twelve groups of six people and they would move throughout the dormitories and the offices, rounding people up, at gunpoint. They had simple orders: "No resistance! If you do we will shoot you. Let's move now!"

As the soldiers moved throughout the offices and dorms, moving quickly. Gunshots echoed throughout the school and awoke many. Most of the kids were sleeping. The terrorists rounded them up em masse. Only about fourteen children were shot in the process, most of them teenagers who tried to resist. The terrorists began to fill up the dining room within twenty-five minutes of taking over the school and by 0800, they had everyone round up, most of them were kicking and screaming, tired and barely awake. Many cried, most huddled together. Those who were couples stuck together and cried in each others' arms. Things were definitely not how they imagined them.

By 0800, the fatalities were twenty-two, including a pair of terrorists, who were shot by one very brave armed guard, who, unfortunately, was shot dead with at least fifteen rounds. However, much to the chagrin of the terrorists at least two dozen people escaped to alert the authorities. By 0820, there was a stand-off in process. The terrorists had 1,184 hostages inside the dining hall, which was big enough for about 800. They had snipers posted throughout the main room and they were down to eighty-two. Around the school's building were at least fifty police officers, a SWAT unit, and a military unit, numbering a total of 180 law enforcement and military personnel, complete with armored vehicles and buses. Things progressively got worse as parents, iincluding angered fathers and distraught mothers, appeared around the perimeter throughout the day. By 1200, there were at least 1,500 people around the school, including the media, and 1,266 inside, including the terrorists, who were now taking pop shots into the air and near police officers and journalists who got too close.

Major Baxter, the military commander on the ground saw the situation as severely escalating and was forced to take command. He ordered all parents and family into a small area, keeping them confined so that they could be easily monitored, keeping them in check at all times. SWAT and police officers took up perimeter positions and their numbers were doubled throughout the day, to keep the parents and family from acting irrationally and also to put added pressure on the terrorists. In addition, he called in reinforcements for his own forces, which, by 1300, numbered 864, a full battalion.

The afternoon sun began to beat down. It was winter time and despite it being only 36°F in the sun, the clear skies and beating sun made everyone uncomfortable, especially those inside. The dining hall was a large room and now it was being decorated with explosives. Terrorists were rigging tripwires and pressure switches to the doors and windows. If anyone came in from any entrance, save for one, they were going to be blasted to bits and the chain reaction would level the entire dining hall.

Finally, at 1330, the first negotiations began. They were simple and conducted by an expert negotiator, brought in by Major Baxter. He only asked one question. "What do you want?" Whomever was incharge answered back in one word.

"Fear!" It was clear. They didn't want to negotiate and they weren't going to back down either. They made little attempt at communication and their snipers, all six of them, were easy pickings and targets. One of the SWAT snipers, sitting comfortably on a piece of grass, peered through his M36A1 Sniper Rifle, ten rounds loaded. He had just over an 1,100 meter range with that rifle and his target was about 600 meters away. It would be an easy shot. However, he needed clearance to fire and clearance he didn't have. As he lined up the target in his sights, the center of the cross hairs on the targets chest, he couldn't help but wonder what the parents were feeling. Their children were trapped inside the building by armed gunmen who wanted nothing more than to make everyone afraid of them. Anger filled his blood and he unlocked the safety.

"This is Delta Four. I have a clear shot on sniper 3. Request permission to engage."

"Negative Delta Four. Wait one."

"Waiting. I have the shot. Recommend taking it now. Target appears to be engaging." The terrorist snipers had taken random pop shots now and then, though having killed, hurt, nor hit anyone. They were annoying more than anything and it appeared as if they had plenty of rounds. Over the past half hour, only three remained of the original six, the others having left their posts, probably to take up other ones. "Delta Four. Recommending target to be shot."

"Negative Delta Four. Do not engage."

"Roger that." The terrorist sniper squeezed the trigger and the bullet pierced right through a small satellite dish, no doubt one of the media crews. He smirked as he watched the dish shatter and the news reporters run for cover. "Delta Four. Requesting permission to engage. Sniper has just fired."

"Roger that. Negative on the fire." The commanders were getting frustrated with him. The last thing they needed was some gung-ho SWAT officer to risk the life of everyone inside because he wanted to get a confirmed kill. The sniper repeatedly bothered command throughout the better part of the next hour, requesting permission to engage just about every two minutes. The terrorist sniper fired off another eight rounds during that time, all of them lethal shots to equipment that had been erected.

By 1400, the terrorists had the entire dining room set and wired. They had about eighty pounds of high-explosives and ball bearings loaded into sixteen bombs, placed strategically around the dining hall. If one went off it would set off the rest, sending thousands of 10mm ball bearings through the air, killing as many as possible. The leader, who identified himself as Tiger, made a radio call around 1405, requesting one thing and one thing only, a media crew. Major Baxter agreed and an unarmed media crew, which was basically a man with a camera and a reporter, were shuffled into the building, amidst small arms fire as the SWAT teams led them to the door.

The SWAT sniper smirked as he saw the terrorist sniper set his sights on one of the evading SWAT men. When he fired and nearly hit the other member, he acted quickly and fast. He pulled the trigger, which sent the 7.62 x 51mm bullet through the air at a speed of 808 meters per second, straight and true towards its target, the terrorist sniper on the roof of the building. The bullet impacted right between his lungs and split his spine in half, causing him to double over and fall off the roof. Screaming as he felt, he landed with a splat, and died instantly, blood staining the pavement and the walls. Immediately, the radio came alive. "Who fired! Who fired!" Everyone asked but nobody could respond, the chatter was just too great. The SWAT sniper owned up to it and his reasoning was that he had almost shot and killed the retreating SWAT men and he had to act before a SWAT soldier was down. He was scolded and immediately relieved of duty for failure to follow direct orders. However, he was too valuable to send home so he would have to stay, albeit in a useless position by the armored personnel carrier that the army brought in.

When the terrorist leader inside the dining hall was notified of this, he went into a fury. Immediately, he kicked the closest person to him, a sixteen year old girl who was definitely feeling ill. She fell over, bleeding at the arm. As the leader cursed and threw things about the dining hall, sending the children into screaming and crying frenzies, he picked up the phone. "For every one of mine you will kill, I shall kill three children. Starting now! You three up!" He hung up the phone. He called for three children, each of them no more than ten years old. He made them stand up and kneel in front of him. Then, with sickness and fanaticism, he brought others around, in a tight circle, to watch. As he raised the pistol to the back of the first kid's head, he smiled. "Children. Do you know what happens when a bullet goes through a brain at this range?" Nobody answered. "DO YOU!?" Still, nobody answered. "Well. I must demonstrate then."

OOC: Could we just hold it to Chapter VI? Chapter V is all for this school thing. As far as the RLA goes, yes they would because the CJA and the Emperor have made public statements about them.

OOC: Could we just hold it to Chapter VI? Chapter V is all for this school thing. As far as the RLA goes, yes they would because the CJA and the Emperor have made public statements about them.

OOC: Okay. That was just set-up anyway- I'll requote it when necessary, though I do want to use Duceppe for my own nation (which may be before then).

It was 1430 and the situation was looking bleak. Little progress had been made except for that fact that a camera crew was called into the dining hall. Reluctantly, a crew did just that, probably more concerned with the ratings it would bring than the lives of those inside or even their own. As they approached the dining hall, Major Baxter looked around, moreover towards his immediate command staff. "Fools?" He posed the question, "Or glory hounds?" The others agreeded to the latter comment with a smile and a laugh. He picked up the phone and dialed the leader inside. "Your camera crew is coming in. Now how about releasing a few hostages?"

"You are in no position to bargain."

"The four hundred men with guns around me seem to think differently."

"You will see." The leader hung up the phone and Major Baxter looked angrily around. They knew nothing of the explosives, only that they were armed gunmen with a lot of children held hostage and that was reason enough not to act rashly. He was going to order a small, elite, CT unit from the SWAT Department to go into the school and conduct an operation but so far they had not recieved the go code and rightfully so. What they were about to see from the television cameras was far worse than any of them imagined.

The camera crew was not on live and that was done so on purpose. Their feed was patched into a communications truck, recorded, and patched into the cable lines of the school. The terrorists inside would be able to watch themselves but they would not be able to realize that this was not the case. Major Baxter was just hoping they were dumb enough to believe it. It was a fifty-fifty chance.

The camera crew showed the faces of almost 1,200 children, most of them around twelve or younger, all scared. They had been crying and many were falling asleep from dehydration, a result of crying so much. Many of them were scared and countless had lost control of themselves and were eithing sitting in their own defecation or urine, mostly the smaller children. Girls looked around with fear as they eyed the masked gunmen. They feared the worst, that this would become a non-stop rape fest, which was something that Major Baxter was trying to avoid. If that were to happen it would be uncontainable. Then, the camera crew showed the masked gunmen, many of them, with AK-47s, CAR-15s, FN Paras, and a ton of other assault rifles, pistols, and weapons. Then, they panned to the ceilings and the pillars, which were strapped with explosives. They didn't appear to be crudely made and looked as if they were wound with detonation cord, which could detonate at Mach 10, demolishing the pillars. The images were more than disturbing. Then, it was time for the main event. The leader had three children kneeling, their hands tied with plastic zip ties. Around them he had about a dozen other kids, all restrained as well, a look of horror on their faces. Most of them were crying. The leader drew his Colt 1911 and looked around. "Children. At this range." They whimpered and cried. "This boy's head will explode and cover all of you with blood and brains. Want to see?" With a sick laugh, he cocked back the hammer, and fired. The blood splatter got everyone, including the camera. It made for far more than dramatic viewing. The leader chuckled and went to the next. He shot her and watched as, around him, everyone cowered and cried. In the backgroup, rage filled a group of football players who were, from the looks on their faces, going to put a stop to this by charging him. As the leader came to the third person, a boy, he snickered and bent down. "Your mommy and daddy can't protect you." He said. Then, he cocked back the hammer again, and fired. The bullet tore through his skull, like the rest, liquefying the medulla oblongata and providing instanteous death. None of the three children suffered but those around, who were covered in their blood and brains, were certainly scared for life. They would suffer that nightmare for the remainder of their natural lives. Everyone in the room would relive those two minutes over and over again and the camera lens, which was all but covered, had to be cleaned off. The terrorist leader forced a boy to give up his shirt to clean off the camera.

When it was clean, the terrorist picked up the phone and dialed Major Baxtor. In a calm and eerie voice, he looked at the camera and spoke, "For every man of mine you kill. I will kill three." He hung up and the camera was shut off, for now.

A tear sat on the corner of Major Baxter's eye. "Bring me the sniper." He said in a calm voice. The sniper, who had been restrained, was brought out and shown the clip. He nearly collapsed from the grief and shock. "This is your doing." Major Baxter nodded and he was removed to a location further away. "I want to know who are the parents. Bring them to me now." His aides did not to question him and did so immediately. "Mr. Samanthan, Mr. and Mrs. Hagerty, Mrs. Condin. I am. I don't know how to tell you. Your sons and daughter were." He couldn't say it. He was crying. Even a hardened military man couldn't bear to witness the execution of a child. Nobody could ask him to do that. "They were..." He couldn't finish. The parents broke down, screaming with grief and pain. Their children had just been taken from them, all because of one trigger happy sniper.

"You will kill them all?" Mr. Samanthan, the father of the girl killed asked.

With stern resolve and unflinching honesty, Major Baxter looked into his eyes, "With my bare hands if I can." The father looked at him and nodded. Major Baxter walked off to the sniper, who was being held inside a makeshift tent, hidden from anyone else. "Well. What am I going to do with you? You disobey a direct order." He pistol whipped the sniper with his M33A2 Pistol. "Your actions causes three children to be executed." Then he kicked him hard in his stomach. "And what am I supposed to do? Huh?" He kicked him four more times. "HUH! WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!" He smacked him hard again with his pistol. "TURN YOU OVER? LET YOU GO TO JAIL!?" He screamed at the sniper and kicked him some more until he was barely able to breath. "I know what I'll do!" The sniper was barely alive after the beating he had just recieved. All but one of his ribs were broken, his eyes were nearly swollen shut, his nose was broken and bled. His arms were bruised from where the handcuffs were tightened to where they dug into his wrists. In pain, the sniper just looked at him. "TO HELL WITH YOU!" Major Baxter removed the safety on his pistol and shot the sniper right through the chest, piercing his lung. Now the sniper was almost dead and to make matters worse, Major Baxter left him. His mouth was duck taped shut and he was placed inside a portable toliet, the door locked shut. "Let him bleed out." The soldiers nodded and while two stayed to guard the tent, Major Baxter returned to his command post.

For the past several weeks, the Romans had been keeping an eye on the situation between the RLA and Layarteb. They didn't really think too much about it, since to most Romans anyway they saw the RLA as completely a Layartebian internal matter and the Roman populace saw no reason to really get worked up about the RLA because of it.

Until now.

Reports were coming out of Layarteb City that the RLA had not just invaded a school in upstate New Hampshire but they had also taken each of the 1200 students hostage and killed three children. True, there were questions about the veracity since some wondered if the reports were Layartebian propaganda, but the photos of killed children and a gymnasium full of horrified, blood-splattered kids left no question in the minds of most Romans. Suddenly, the casual interest in the goings-on of the RLA turned into an all-out rage, as Romans everywhere- patricians, plebeians, educated, blue-collar workers, college students, etc.- joined in a unanimous and vocal condemnation of the attacks. They were appalled that a supposedly "pro-democratic" group like the RLA could sink so low as to kill innocent children.

"We stand here today," said Caesar Gaius Romanus Rodinus Hartianus in an official statement condemning the RLA, "united against the terrible acts of the Republican Liberation Army. We've witnessed them shoot down two planes and bomb Layarteb City, and, sadly, we stood back. After witnessesing the attacks of today, where three innocent children were killed, we can stand back no longer. We are appalled that a supposedly 'democratic' group would stoop to such a level as to kill innocent children, to which we beg the question- should we believe that animals such as yourselves are worthy of our support?

We are therefore announcing that the Roman Empire hereby fully denounces the attacks of the Republican Liberation Army and is now declaring the RLA as a terrorist organization. We shall offer our assistance to the Layartebians in any which way we can to lock up these animals in the zoo in which they belong.

Caesar Gaius Romanus Rodinus Hartianus."

OOC: We never blamed the RLA for the Pelepian Presidential Assasination. But it's the thought that counts ;)

OOC: We never blamed the RLA for the Pelepian Presidential Assasination. But it's the thought that counts ;)

OOC: Should I edit it out or keep it?

OOC: Should I edit it out or keep it?

OOC: I'd pull it out.

Official communique to the world

The Kingdom is appalled by the actions of the Republican Liberation Army, and officially condemn the actions of said group. Furthermore, we formally and officially declare the Republican Liberation Army a terrorist organization, and freeze any funds the RLA may have in Norway. Furthermore, any sympathizers and associates of the RLA will be arrested and trialled for conspiracy to commit terrorism, a capital offense in Norway. We fully support the Empire of Layarteb in their actions to eradicate the RLA and all their supporters from the face of the world.

"Sir it's 1530. They want a situation report?" One Major Baxters' aides asked. "They're on the phone now."

"Tell them that the situation is that we're working on it."

"Yes sir."

"Politicans." Angered and frustrated, Major Baxter turned back to the situation at hand. He was trying to negotiate the release of at least a handful of hostages to show good faith. Little did he know that the situation was currently out of hand and beyond anything repairable.

Governor's Island, Layarteb City

The Emperor was sitting in his office, looking at situation reports from the school crisis, which was now on every media and regular channel in the Empire. Irish people, Icelandic people, and even soldiers based in Kazakhstan were watching the crisis unfold, which was definitely something that they did not want anymore. His cabinet was in attendance, looking around at the office and trying to figure out what was going on. When the Roman and Norwegian statements concerning the RLA came across the table, they were suddenly without a plan. "Now the whole world knows! What is this crap!" The Emperor roared and threw the documents across the table, standing as he did. "This is now an international incident. Why? Because one fucking sniper is trigger happy. I want his ass suffering for this one goddamnit! What are we supposed to do now? We can't deny or downplay it in any way, shape, or form. Huh? Why don't you people recommend something?"

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Sir. This is an internal matter. Despite international attention they still have no justification for any involvement."

"And if one child is from Rome or Norway?"

"Sir we know that is not the case. Should it be, we will be handling this."

"Obviously."

"Well sir we can just give a standard response." Another aide who had been, until now, quite quiet. "It has never failed us in the past."

"Nor have we dealt with something this severe in the past. You do realize if this does not go to plan and does not end up with all of those children being released and all of those terrorists being caught we are going to have to deal with a lot more than just body bags, grieving mothers, pissed off fathers, and terrorists on the run."

"Yes sir."

"Fine. Draft a standard response. Get it out and state that we currently have the situation under control, it is fragile, and that we appreciate the support."

"Yes sir."

Official Response from the Empire

The Empire appreciates the support of Rome and Norway. Allies are true in their word and their character when they denounce such an immoral and nonsensical attack as this is. The RLA is nothing but a band of terrorists using the guise of "Democracy" to justify their attacks, their slaughters, and their terrorism. The government sees through this and the citizens of the Empire see through this as well.

The situation in Laconia, New Hampshire, will be resolved by the Empire and it will be resolved immediately. The situation is, obviously because of the presence of children, fragile and problematic. We don't want this to turn into a disaster. These innocent children have suffered enough and we hope to end this ordeal without further harming their lives both physically and mentally.

We thank you for your support.

The Empire of Layarteb

The response went through all channels and public media outlets. Anyone who expressed interest in the situation would recieve the statement and they would obviously know that the Empire had recieved their concern.

Lacona, New Hampshire

Back at the school, fifteen minutes had passed and the situation had neither gotten better nor worsened. The RLA terrorists had been quiet inside and those outside stirred and brewed. It would be a long night and hopefully it would be over by morning but there was no telling what the future held for the situation.

Norwegian Embassy, International Zone, Layarteb City
The Norwegian ambassador to Layarteb, like everyone else in Layarteb, watched the hostage drama in New Hampshire closely. The various people in the embassy were checking to make sure that no Norwegian citizens were involved. The message from Oslo about the denouncement of the RLA had arrived half an hour earlier. Then the door to the ambassadors office opened.

"Ambassadør, vi har et problem." (Ambassador, we have a problem.)

"Hva slags problem? Vær så snill, ikke si at vi har noen der." (What sort of problem? Please don't tell me that we have someone in there) the ambassador said, pointing to the TV where the hostage crisis was the top story.

"Desverre. En Vanessa Grimsby, sytten år fra Drammen. Vi vet ikke noe mer enn at hun er der inne. Foreldrene ringte oss nettopp." (Sorry. One Vanessa Grimsby, age seventeen, from Drammen. We don't know anything else than that she's in there. Her parents called it in.)

The ambassador sank down into his chair. From what the journalists told the viewers, the terrorists were very violent. For a Norwegian kid, trapped inside there, all alone... It had to be hell. With a heavy heart, the ambassador called the Layartebian Ministry of State. They had to be informed. The connection was established quickly, and the ambassador got connected to the propper authorities quickly.

"This is ambassador Kripleseng from the Norwegian embassy. It's concerning the hostage situation. We have someone inside there."

The message was to the Emperor within minutes. "There is a Norwegian kid in there? Just great!" He slammed his fist down on the table. His cabinet had convened for a short lunch and to take some time to think. They had been brainstorming since the situation began and even they got burned out after a while. It would be their priority to get everyone out safely but now they had to pay extremely special attention to the Norwegian girl inside the school. "I want this situation resolved immediately and tell the Norwegian government that the concern is being addressed and that we are taking the interest of everyone inside the school into consideration."

Prime Minister Rothsky paid very close attention to the events in Layarteb, but decided against interfering with the Layartebian rescue operation, for the moment. At least that was what it said in the flash communique from Oslo. The ambassador sat tight in the embassy and watched. At a fancy school in Layarteb City, his own fifteen year old daughter was, learning the things needed to succeed in life. While he made sure that the security measures around his own daughter was in place, a crisis team from the embassy was at Layarteb International Airport, ready to board a Boeing 737-400 to New Hampshire. The team consisted of five men and two women, of which two were security personell. One of them was a shrink and the one who would act as a negotiator if they needed that, two were medical personell, and two were assistants. They would help the parents of the seventeen year old girl, and the girl herself when she got out. Hopefully alive and in one piece. All the people on the team had diplomatic immunity and a valid reason to go to the school. The Layartebians could do very little to stop them from coming.

Soon after issuing his statement, Hartian ordered his officials to run a check to see if any Roman citizens or their children were in that school. Given the Laconia school's reputation for being one of New Hampshire's top schools, the Foreign Ministry wouldn't be surprised if one showed up, but in the back of their minds, they were hoping none were inside that building.

30 minutes later and the results came up. Negative. There was a huge sigh of relief on the Emperor's face, as he now didn't have to add to the Layartebians' worries by making this into an international incident (OOC: I'm assuming the world wouldn't know of the Norwegian child), and by being thrusted into an awkward situation where he had no control over the fate of a fellow Roman.

He still sent the Layartebians a message of support in his statement confirming the absence of Romans from the school:

"We are informing your nation that there are no Romans or children of Romans present at Laconia. Regardless, we are standing behind you in these troubling times. The RLA are not even worthy of being called human after their actions today. We trust that you have the situation under control and we are hopeful for a positive resolution to this crisis."

He watched as the events unfolded nervously. Little did he know that Rome would later be thrusted into the middle of the fight with the RLA.

The evening passed into night and things deteriorated rapidly. The RLA terrorists had stopped executing hostages but they hadn't released any either. The whole of the Empire was now glued to the television, watching the events unfold in New Hampshire. The presence around the school numbered quite more than it had previously. There were 1,181 hostages and 81 terrorists inside. Outside, there were 2,589 family members, 864 army personnel, 400 police officers, 500 emergency personnel, 291 SWAT officers, and at least 650 reporters, journalists, and cameramen. This correlated to 1,262 inside and 5,294 outside. This was far too many people than were necessary. The family members were all being contained to one single area, which was, more or less, the farthest point away from the school possible, protected and held back by regular police officers. SWAT soldiers roamed the grounds, keeping their eyes on the building to make sure that everything was under control. The army soldiers too were around the building and they had at least two dozen vehicles with them.

They brought six M2030A1 Medium Assault Tanks, four M2A4 Bradley IFVs, eight M2008A1 Dingo APVs, and six M2010A1 Bushmaster IMVs. That was enough armament to completely seige and destroy the school, if necessary, albeit not on any battleplan. The vehicles were there more for intimidation and Major Baxter ensured that the tanks were seen, their barrels pointed right at windows, loaded with HEAT and canister shells. The tanks were the heaviest armament there. The Bradleys were heavily loaded as well and they were in plain sight but they were there more for protection than anything else. The Dingos and Bushmasters were simply for transport and they had heavy machine guns and grenade launchers on their roofs but they were significantly less armed and armored than the tanks and IFVs.

That was on the ground. The military also brought in eight helicopters, which consisted of four UH-95A Huey II assault helicopters armed with gunpods and rockets and four AH-6J Littlebird helicopters, which were armed with Miniguns and rockets. These were there more to keep the media helicopters away and already they had pushed back seventeen media helicopters, all Bell 206 JetRanger helicopters. They would remain elusive and whenever a media helicopter got too close they would suddenly appear and escort it out of "restricted airspace," which was an area one mile in diameter around the entire school. Now, after most of the helicopters had their run-ins with the military, they stayed far away, hovering about 4,000 feet off the ground, just at a one mile range from the school, their cameras trained on the school and those below. When one had to refuel they did and were back in no time.

As the night sky brought fourth stars and a waxing moon that was barely visible in the sky. Its fingernail luminescence grew higher and higher as the Earth rotated on its daily path. It gave little light to those on the ground, far less than the florescent lights provided, which had been set up around the family zone, the media zone, and the various other zones. Since electrical power and water had been cut to the school, there were no lights on in the school or on its grounds. Snipers, soldiers, and SWAT officers all sat in total dark, their rifles resting on the ground or on something that would provide them with stability and comfort.

Major Baxter ordered everyone to be on their toes but also to relax. This was going to take a while. As he repeatedly asked for demands from the terrorists, he maintained that whatever demands could end this situation would be given. With the lives of children at stake, there was no time for any games. "Please list your demands? Money? Safe passage? What is it?" He begged from the terrorists. The messages were relayed through the journalists inside who had kept a line open to the military command center outside, to ensure their own safety, which had yet to be threatened.

"We have only one demand and that is to see the Emperor relenquish his throne for the safety of this children and reinstitute democracy." The demand was unfulfillable.

Democracy? The journalists thought, what a worthy cause being undertaken by such horrific means. Alan Webster, the journalist inside and his cameraman, Jeff Sinclair, were both scared for their lives. There were explosives everywhere, armed gunmen, and children who were all exhausted and scared themselves. He attempted to reason with the leader, who gave his name as "The Liberator." It was evident that he felt he would liberate the citizens of the Empire from the authoritarian chains of the Emperor but that his cause was certainly nothing to be appreciated. In reality, his name was Johnathan Banks, a high-level figure in the Illuminati. On the surface he was an accountant who led nothing short of a dull and dreary life. He took one vacation every six months for two weeks and then he would be back at work. He kept to himself and usually didn't cause any problems. He was good at what he did and was, unfortunately, always under high stress. His vacations had been implemented by the firm he worked for after he had lashed out at an employee who accidentally spilled coffee on him. He had been working four years straight, without a vacation, well over sixty hours per week. Since he had been mandated to two weeks of vacation every six months, his stress levels were far below normal. The employee that he nearly beat to death was actually quite relieved and did work only two cubicles away, probably his only friend in the office. They had an understanding, it was a mistake and he acted way out of line for it, even spending four months in prison because of this action.

Little did anyone know, he led a secret life. He was part of the Illuminati and had a personal wealth in the area of eight and a half million shingrots to his name. Every year he added at least two hundred and fifty thousand to that number plus whatever bonuses he had made. He was very successful, very ellusive, and very strong. He worked out religiously, every day, and trained with weaponry whenever he could. His service in the military left him with the uncanny ability to conduct tactical operations with extreme success. He was also a very good shot and it was evident. His best feat had been shooting a clemintine fruit off a fence at eight hundred and sixty-two yards, in a high wind condition. It was a bet and a dare that won him five thousand shingrots, the respect of all the men in his unit, and a position on a quick-reaction deployment force. He was credited with seventy-four kills in his service, all of them made in excess of six hundred and sixty-five yards.

He was the perfect candidate to lead the operation and the higher-ups knew it. As an influential figure in the Illuminati, he knew a lot of people and was able to select the best of the best for this mission. The men that had been killed were all personal friends of his and he felt saddened that they had died, surely he would deliver the news to their families once this was over. However, he knew they all died for a cause they believed in, for a cause that stretched far beyond the life of any one or one hundred men. If all of his men died, including himself, and it worked towards their cause, he was prepared to accept that fate.

He also knew that he was holding all of the cards. He had no need to bargain. The government was in no position to bargain with him and he was not accepting any monetary rewards, offers of safe passage, or even assistance. He was there by himself, with his men, dedicated to their cause and nothing would persuade them away from that, nothing!

Inside the dining hall, children had been up for hours upon hours. The few that managed to fall asleep were often awoken by the armed terrorists. Some had been beaten for crying too much or too loud, for talking, for sleeping, one for going to the bathroom in his pants. Nobody was allowed to leave, eat, or drink. People were numb from sitting in the same positions and the place smelled horribly of body odor, urine, feces, and blood. The bodies of the children who had been shot were left where they fell and those around were not permitted to move. People puked all over the place, adding to the stentch. The terrorists laughed with each other and snickered at the plight of those inside. Some even thought about raping some of the girls there but they were under orders not to. They were there to make everyone uncomfortable and to strike fear into the eyes of the Empire. Their goal was to show that the Emperor and all his power could protect no one, especially children in a quiet, little, rural, unsuspecting town as this. It struck right to the heart of everyone and while nobody approved the measures or the act, they began to see that they weren't safe, not as safe as the Emperor professed.

The morning turned into dawn and the sun rose low over a cloudly horizon. The weather called for snow and overcast for that day, with a high temperature of 36°F and a low temperature near 19°F. Little did they know but a massive blizzard was moving in from the east, a blizzard that was gaining strength and quickly becomming a Nor'Easter. If it dumped that much snow onto the school it would create far more of a problem than they could have. It would only complicate matters and make things worse, very worse. Around 0700, the snow began to fall, lightly at first, that was when Major Baxter called for a weather report.

"Go get me a weather report. I don't want to be caught by surprise if this is another one of those storms." He barked the order to his aide as he sipped coffee. He had been up for more than thirty-six hours and he needed to stay alert. Within minutes he recieved it back. "What the hell is this shit? I hate winter!"

"Sir?"

"We're in for a Nor'Easter."

"Are you shitting me?"

"No, read it yourself!" He handed the document to Captain Carlos, the man by his side, who had been with the Major for a long time now. Captain Carlos was his executive officer and he was definitely a man of reason and patience. He looked at the paper and put down his coffee.

"We need to end this now."

"Tell me about it."



URGENT - WINTER WEATHER MESSAGE
NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE NORTH PLATTE NE
413 AM EST SUN NOV 6 2005

NEZ006>010-026>029-020945-
/O.CON.KLBF.SN.Y.0001.000000T0000Z-060102T1200Z/
NEW ENGLAND

...SNOW ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 9 AM EST MONDAY...

A STORM SYSTEM CROSSING EAST OF THE AREA WILL PRODUCE WIDESPREAD
HEAVY SNOW ACROSS NEW ENGLAND. STORM TOTALS OF 12 TO 14 INCHES
CAN BE EXPECTED.

A SNOW ADVISORY MEANS THAT PERIODS OF SNOW WILL CAUSE MAJOR
TRAVEL DIFFICULTIES. BE PREPARED FOR SNOW COVERED ROADS AND
LIMITED VISIBILITIES...AND USE CAUTION WHILE DRIVING.

$$

KAR



Major Baxter nodded and looked around. The family members were off to his right, about ninety meters away. "What are we going to do about them?"

"What the families?"

"Yes."

"Who knows. Keep them from revolting?"

"How are we going to do that. Sooner or later they are going to figure this out. They are more and we aren't going to fire."

"No idea. I can't say I've had to deal with that many. Usually its just a few."

"Well sir, if I may?"

"Go for it."

"Just keep them inside their own little world thinking that the situation is under control."

"Is it sir?" Major Baxter shot him a look. "Yes sir." Captain Carlos went off to carry out the orders and brief the families, who had, likewise, not slept. Things were definitely not under control. As the snowfall began to increase throughout the course of the morning, Major Baxter picked up the phone and dialed the terrorists inside.

"Let me speak to 'The Liberator'?" He said with resolve.

"One moment." There was some commotion on the other end of the phoneline and the terrorist obviously passed off the phone. "Okay."

"Major Baxter. What am I to hear today?"

"Well we've got a Nor'Easter coming. How much longer is this going to last. It's cold out here."

"Until our demands are met."

"How about feasible demands?"

"Our demands are non-negotiable. Listen it is up to you to handle this. If not, the deaths of these children will be on your hands." He hung up the phone and Major Baxter slammed it down on the table.

"Asshole." He said aloud as he turned to the rest of his men. "We need to get a squad in there."

"Sir?"

"Listen. I know we have some highly trained people here. Get a squad of a few of them and sneak into the school. We have the blueprints and this and that. We know that they are only in the dining hall with a few snipers and spotters. We can see all of them. Alright?"

"Yes sir."

"Round me up eight men and get back to me."

"Yes sir." Within thirty minutes there were eight soldiers standing in front of him, at attention. They were all veterans and armed with carbines, pistols, and a shotgun.

"Gentlemen. What I am about to ask you to do is entirely volunteer. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Very well. I need all eight of you to go into the sewer system and ingress into the school, secretly. When you get in, get as close to the dining hall as possible without alerting them to your presence. Then radio back in for orders."

"Yes sir!"

"Now. Whoever is against this, please step back now." Nobody stepped back. "Good luck gentlemen. I hate to put this on your shoulders but it is up to you to help me end this crisis and this disaster. If we don't act soon enough we're going to have a foot of snow and 1,181 children to have to deal with. Get going." The soldiers left the tent area and crept into the sewer system about eight hundred meters away from the school. Once they entered, they crept through them and towards the school. They would come up in a shower room, inside the men's locker room. It was then a few hallways and doors until they were to the dining hall.

The sewer tunnel system was dark, cold, and quite uncomfortable. The eight soldiers all had their nightvision goggles on, their weapons ready, and had previously committed the sewer and building layout to memory. They knew exactly where they were going and should they need to actually have directions, they could easily call back to the command center. It took them no less than an hour to get through the entire sewer system and into the locker room. As they did, the group leader, Captain Cage, used a small fiber-optics camera to see into the locker room. It was clear and the team quietly and slowly moved into the locker room.

"Alright. Gentlemen. We're in now. I want total silence, hand signals only, nobody shoots unless absolutely necessary. And if you have to, make sure it's quiet." They nodded and were moving, crouched, slowly, and quietly. The team leader picked up his radio and whispered, "This is Alpha. We're in. All quiet." Back at the command center, Major Baxter nodded to those around.

"Gentlemen. May God have mercy on us." He fully knew that if something went wrong, it would cause a chain reaction that could lead to the deaths of all of those inside. That was something he didn't want to have on his hands. "Gentlemen, I want an understanding right now. Whatever happens does not leave this area. If it goes good we attribute it to the entire force. If it goes bad, it is my fault. Understood?" Everyone was silent for a moment. "That is an order!" They began to nod, salute, and agree.

The soldiers walked slowly and cautiously throughout the school, stopping and looking around frequently. They had their weapons shouldered, silencers and suppressors attached. They walked towards the dinning hall and checked multiple rooms along the way. There were no terrorists around at all and, unfortunately for them, that meant they knew not where they were. Tension mounted as they drew closer and closer, coming towards one of the closest rooms to the hall, the office of admissions, which was a large, lofty, and very lavish office. It was also very well placed. The office itself was, without a doubt, the best place for them to be. They could use the heating ducts to listen into the dining hall and also keep their cover. The door was locked though and there was no chance of kicking it in.

The team leader gave a simple hand signal, which was for them to keep a look out. He removed a lock-picking set from his vest and put his rifle on his back. Using his set, he jumbled the lock and got into the room quickly and effectively. Once inside, they shut and relocked the door, taking up their hiding position. "Alright men. Now we sit and wait. Keep a watch on the door and let's get command in on this." He whispered. They nodded in agreement. "This is Alpha. We're at location Echo. Advise orders, over?"

"Alpha, Command. Stand fast. Continue reconnaissance."

"Roger that." Now they played the waiting game.

Back outside, at the command center, Major Baxter looked around. "Alright we're in. Now to play the game. Get me the asshole on the line." He had affectionally renamed the leader as "The Asshole," which always drew a short chuckle. When he was handed the phone, he spoke with some confidence. "Good morning. It's a new day, why don't we start fresh?"

"You are still in no position to bargain."

"Well given the numbers I have here, I think so. Do you?"

"Numbers mean nothing in the face of children."

"Perhaps. But this has gone on long enough."

"No. This reign has gone on long enough." He hung up the phone and once again, in frustration, the Emperor tossed the phone across the center.

"Alpha. This is command. Advise status over?"

"Status has not changed."

"Understood. Stand fast." Major Baxter looked back at the families area. The press was interviewing some of them. Major Baxter had some problems with that, especially if they were trying to incite a form of revolution in them, to incite them against the military leaders. That was something he could not have.

At the families area, that was being done, but not by the press. A few of the fathers, who had enough of this situation, were beginning to build a small group within themselves. "This has gone on long enough. Our children are in there and these people aren't doing anything." One of them whispered to a group of other men. "We have guns at home. We have knives. There are far more of us. They won't shoot us either." People nodded and agreed. There was something brewing, something that could make the entire situation catastrophic.

"Understood. Stand fast." Major Baxter looked back at the families area. The press was interviewing some of them. Major Baxter had some problems with that, especially if they were trying to insight a form of revolution in them, to incite them against the military leaders. That was something he could not have.

OOC: Minor quibble, but I think you mean "incite" there.

Regardless, this looks like it'll be a splendid finish. :)

OOC: Minor quibble, but I think you mean "incite" there.

Regardless, this looks like it'll be a splendid finish. :)

OOC: Yes I did mean incite. Oops. Well just how you think it will end, it won't...

By mid-afternoon, things inside the families area were barely under control. Two police officers had already been assaulted and six fathers were put in handcuffs to calm them down. The area was a brewing cauldron of rage. Major Baxter saw that things were uneasy once the assault happened and the parents called for the action of the police and soldiers to do something. They were under considerable stress and no matter how many grief counselors they had brought in, it wasn't helping. There was a threshold that had been surpassed and now it was all damage control.

"How does it look?" Major Baxter asked one of his aides, who had just returned from the families area.

"Sir, it's a volcano. If we can't control them they are going to do something very bad sir."

"Understood." The aide saluted and left as Major Baxter turned to the men in the command post. "Get me Alpha."

"Yes sir! Alpha this is command come in over?"

"Alpha."

"Report status?"

"Status is same as before. We count seventy hostiles in the actual dining room. Rest remain unaccounted for."

"Roger that we count eight on the external, which leaves how many unaccounted for?"

"Sir, we've heard reports of two dying. Coupled with the one from outside, it is safe to say we have at least five to twelve unaccounted for."

"Roger that. Stand fast." Major Baxter put down the microphone and looked at his watch. It was 1405 and he was pressed for time and for necessity. In the middle of the families area, things were getting worse. At least eighty of the fathers had rounded up pistols, shotguns, and rifles, and were keeping them concealed and hidden from the police officers standing watch over them. They were brewing. There were at least three hundred of them willing to begin fighting. They were looking to triple their numbers, overcome the police and soldiers, and just attack.

Inside, the terrorists were walking around, instilling fear into the children who were already beyond scared. A few of them had gone up to a few of the children and told them of their cause, told them how it was their fault, their parents' fault, and how they would all be sacrificed should it be necessary. They sounded like a bunch of Middle Eastern, Islamic terrorists but they weren't, they were far from them. The leader had resorted to sitting down, in the rear of the dining hall, smoking, and eating the fresh food that was available. The terrorists ate and gave only whatever scraps fell on the floor or what they didn't finish to those inside. It was beyond demoralizing.

It was hot in the dining hall, the heat had been turned on up way too high, which had been done by Major Baxter to drive them out. It had not worked. The smell of urine, death, feces, vomit, and sweat filled the dining hall. Children who had gone to the bathroom in their pants had been sitting it for hours and hours. Those who had thrown up were sitting next to it and those who were unfortunate enough to be right next to the three murdered children had to stare at death and three sets of open eyes, all of them hauntingly gruesome. The blood had dried and flies had come to pick the flesh from the dead. The heat turned the bodies into disgusting heaps of slop. It was unfitting for them.

The terrorists continued to point their weapons at the children without remorse and without any thought to what the consequences could be if their finger slipped. They had their safeties off and their weapons were loaded and ready to fire. It would take a small twitch of their finger to fire off a bullet or series of bullets, something that would definitely see the death of at least nine kids.

However, there were a group of kids who weren't going to take it anymore. They were all boys, three juniors and four seniors, all of them on the wrestling team. They were, probably, the biggest, strongest, and fastest people in the school and probably the only chance any of them had. They were all sitting around and near each other. Things were brewing inside, outside, and within. Nothing was safe anymore...

The best hope anyone had was to maintain the status quo, which was rapidly eroding. The families were growing resentful towards the police and soldiers, who were not doing anything, in their eyes. The soldiers and police were getting frustrated that this was happening and they weren't allowed to do anything about it. The children inside were growing weary and dillusional, especially because they weren't allowed to sleep. They were in the utter worst conditions possible and things were only getting worse. The terrorists were getting frustrated with the inability of their cause to be completed. The media was also growing restless. They wanted something to happen so that they could have a story. Journalists were not human, that was a given.

And then something happened...

Everything happened so fast inside the dining hall that those who survived afterwards could not accruately describe what happened. It was all within a single second, or less. Inside the dining hall, one of the terrorists was walking near the group of wrestlers that were plotting. He, unfortuantely, had one of the detonators in his hand and was brandishing it to a group of children to scare them. What happened next was extremely unclear. Whether he slipped in vomit or was actually tripped is unknown but he did trip, fall, and unfortunately, landed on the detonator, which set off a small explosion inside the dining hall, collapsing a section of the doorway to the south end, the opposite side from where Alpha was sitting. The explosion, loud, only hurt four children and did minor structural damage but things instantly escalated.

"Alpha. What was that?" Major Baxter shouted in the microphone.

"An explosion sir. On the south end, we don't know."

"Roger that. Wait one." As Major Baxter turned around, the entire families group was moving forward, many brandishing weapons. A few of the fathers shot their rifles at the snipers that they could see. "Dear God!" Major Baxter shouted as suddenly, he was outclassed. A few of the police officers had been stomped on and their weapons stolen from them. Soldiers were confused and were waiting for orders. Major Baxter had little choice, he could not control that crowd. "Alpha. Move! Now! Go!" The team moved instantly and as he did, he shouted over the microphone, "All units. We have a go. Move in according to plan."

Within eighteen seconds, all of the eight snipers were shot dead from shots from the SWAT and army snipers. As the confusion continued, the families began rushing the school. SWAT personnel and soldiers were ahead of them but they were losing ground. As the gunshots echoed, the terrorists inside knew that something was up. "Let's go! Abort!" They shouted. As they did, the children began to revolt. Everyone began to attack the terorists, led by the wrestlers. As they did, more explosions went off, this time taking out two columns and killing eighteen. As the explosions echoed more and more, people gained speed.

Alpha burst into the dining hall and immediately stepped into instant communications. Terrorists were covered with children who were fighting hard. They had to act fast. They could see that the situation was dire. Explosives were everywhere and they had to act fast. Immediately, they began to hustle children out and told them to run as fast as they could out of the dining hall and into the main courtyard, where soldiers and police would save them. Chaos multiplied by the second and soon children were flooding out, blocking soldiers from flooding in.

The men of Alpha were having difficulty opening fire, they didn't want to hit any children. They did manage to engage six terrorists who had fought away from the children and were preparing to detonate their bombs, but not before two more explosions went off, completely blocking two more exits, killing another six children and now six soldiers who had entered to assist. Outside, the families had begun to sweep up the children and carry them to safety, soldiers and policemen assisting. The armored units had moved up to the school to prevent terrorists from escaping. Two that had already tried were gunned down by overzealous operators on the Bradleys. Major Baxter wanted some of them alive.

Inside, coupled with chaos and confusion, children were finally realizing that they should get out. As they did, they passed by the soldiers and policemen, who had their weapons drawn and were trying to kill the terrorists or at least wound them enough to capture them. Another seven had been taken care of by the time the fourth set of explosions went off, which destroy another column and took twenty-six children, eighteen terrorists, and three soldiers with it.

Within two minutes, forty-one terrorists were killed, fifty children were dead, and nine soldiers were dead. At least one hundred children were wounded and things were getting worse. There were still forty-one terrorists to get and at least seven hundred children still inside the dining hall, now coupled with at least forty-eight soldiers and eighty-two police officers, who were now being shot at by the terrorists. Within thirty seconds another two soldiers were dead, shot in the back trying to pull out wounded children.

Alpha was at the top of the charge, shooting the most amount of terrorists so far. They went for full body shots, aiming for the heart and lungs, trying to put the terrorists down without missing and hitting children. More and more children were beginning to flee the dining hall and throughout this entire time, the terrorist leader, "The Liberator" had managed to sneak out and was running down the rear hall of the school, trying to get away with four of his body guards. He had the main detonator in his hand and he was prepared to detonate the rest but he knew he had to be far enough away and he knew that he would be harmed by the explosion if he were to detonate it now.

At the four minute mark, the sixth group of explosions went off, taking out a pair of columns, two more exits, eighty-three children, twenty-seven soldiers, and sixteen terrorists. Within another two minutes, most of the children were out. All but seven terrorists remained, five of them running away, including the leader. The other two had been captured and were being taken out. All but eighty of the children were out, all of whom were injured or too weak to move under their own power. The soldiers were moving them out along with their own dead and wounded when the terrorist leader emerged from the rear of the school. Thinking he would be free he walked right into a group of soldiers, all of them guns raised. Included in them were four soldiers with guns equipped with tranquilizer darts and all five of them hit the ground, unconscious and unharmed. The situation was over and done with in eight minutes and the chaos and confusion that surrounded the entire event was done.

At the end of the day, seventy-five terrorists, one hundred and fifty-two children, and thirty-eight soldiers were dead. Seven terrorists were captured. Two hundred children were wounded by shrapnel and gunfire and the rest were all treated for dehydration and a host array of other symptoms, all part of post-traumatic stress disorder. Thirty-seven policemen and forty-three soldiers were wounded.

The situation was over but at what cost? The media would play the story the entire day and week. It was front-page, "Botched Rescue Operation Leads to 152 Children Dead." The fallout was insane.

November 7

The entire day had been spent, by the media, of replaying every minute and second of the eight minute ordeal the previous day. They used footage from the camera crews inside, from film shot from helicopters, and from ground film. The true events of the dining hall were unknown and the media had universally agreed that the terrorists had begun by detonating the bombs and then that prompted a quick action of the military and families, which turned into the chaotic, uncontrollable mess. By the end of the day, Major Baxter had been removed from command and forcibly retired for his failure to successfully control the situation. He wasn't made the scapegoat, publically, but was privately blamed for the affair, afterall, as the commanding officer on duty at the time it was his duty to accept blame, even if it wasn't his fault. Like a military man bound by honor he did not fight the proceedings and though he was forced to retire, he accepted it honorably and was not stripped of rank. His pension, however, was reduced to one half what he would recieve, as a result of the affair.

At 2000 that night, as families were finishing up their dinner, all of the television and radio channels switched to the main governmental broadcast channel. The Emperor was going to speak. He was standing in the main press briefing hall of his castle, surrounded by men and women of his cabinet, by military men, and by various other people. Somberly, he spoke, "Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire. Yesterday was the most tragic day in modern history for the Empire. It was a day when one hundred and fifty-five children were brutally murdered, in cold-blood, by terrorists who claim to fight for a democratic cause. Their actions have shown that their means certainly do not justify their ends. The killing of innocents has not gone to their plan. The citizens of the Empire will not stand for this bloodbath and betrayal of morality.

"These terrorists, the Republican Liberation Army, are terrorists, nothing more. They are not freedom fighters nor are they guerillas. They are not bound by religious rite nor are they bound by any laws or morals. They are bound by one creed and that is terrorism. Their aim is to scare and emplace fear into the citizens of the Empire. They want you to feel that you are not safe, that your children are not safe, and that I and my cabinet cannot protect you.

"They are wrong. The Empire will protect you, yours sons, and your daughters. The Empire will not stand for such intolerable acts nor will it sit by idly and let those who perpetrate them get away, scott-free! Whilst we will see these acts of these terrorists as horrific and intolerable, we will not let them dictate our way of life.

"We will declare November 6 as a day of mourning, to remember the lives lost. We lost thirty-eight brave, fearless men that day, who laid down their lives so that children could live. They sacrificed not to the Empire or to a war but to the fathers and mothers of those children who live today because of their sacrifice. Fearlessly and without question or doubt, they rushed into a bomb-laiden and gruesome situation, coming under fire from terrorists, being shot in the back while escorting children to safety. They will be remembered forever as long as the Empire stands. Their sacrifice will not go in vain nor shall the lost lives of our children be lost to a cause that uses terrorism to obtain its goals.

"The Empire will not rest nor will it stop until each and every terrorist of the RLA is either dead or behind bars. We will take no other alternative. From this day fourth, all law enforcement agencies are being given a new directive. Any RLA terrorist that is identified is to be arrested immediately, regardless of whether or not they have perpetrated any actual crime. Support for the RLA will be justified as a crime, a crime against the Empire and of its people. Those who fight will be killed. The Empire shall lose no more children, soldiers, or policemen. From this day fourth the only casualities shall be that of the enemy and may they be plentiful.

"Thank you and good night." The cameras panned away and the radio broadcasts went to silence. For the next one minute there was total silence in the Empire. No television station or radio station let a sound or picture go.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Confirmed Body Count: 738
Unconfirmed Body Count: 899+

Chapter VI: Precious

Following the most horrific and gruesome act in Layartebian history, the Empire sought good press. It was vast, covering some 4.13 million square miles and one could run a line from Ireland all the way, in an arc, down to North America, and all the way down to South America. That was the coverage of the Empire, perhaps one of the most vast Empires in the history of mankind, rivaling that of the Roman Empire. However, there was one glaring area of no coverage, which consisted of some territories in Canada. These included New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and Quebec.

Then came the final necessity of the Empire. Those areas, belonging to the The Allied States of Celtayoshi, had finally and suddenly become a realization. The Allied States of Celtayoshi was dissolving and with it, millions of square miles of territory, including the afforementioned areas. Immediately, the Empire mobilized and on December 1, all of these territories were finally declared part of the Empire, completing the geographical arc beginning in Ireland and ending in Peru.

All of these areas were incorporated into the Province of Dnalkrad and finally, with completion, the Empire approached a new year with a new resolve and a new problem. The RLA weren't just a problem. Inside Quebec there had been brewing a major independence movement. Upon the dissolution of The Allied States of Celtayoshi, the Quebecers finally saw their chance and their opportunity to have what they wanted, freedom and independence.

When Layartebian tanks rolled into the areas, they suddenly lost it. They had pushed and fought for independence throughout the entire tenure of The Allied States of Celtayoshi. Peaceful measures weren't effective to the Celtayoshi government and nor would they for the Empire. They had no alternative. Preceedings before the Empire even got into Quebec sowed the roots for independence and for struggle, one which would not be easy for either the Empire or the Quebecers.

The confusion following the collapse of the Celtayoshian government gave the Quebecois hope. Suddenly, without a strong, outside government, the dream of the Parti Quebecois for an independent Quebec would finally be realized. For the inspirational leaders of the PQ- Lucien Bouchard and Jacques Parizeau- the Celtayoshian collapse couldn't be better news, but they knew, with the Layartebian wolf at the door they had to act quickly if they wanted to realize their dream.

The Celtayoshian collapse gave the PQ the opportunity to do a little soul searching as well. Having seen the bulk of Canada fall into complete anarchy, the PQ was beginning to wonder if its ideals of "sovereignty association" were of any use. If Canada couldn't prove to be a worthwhile partner, who did the PQ have? The Layartebians and their "Emperor" were too far to the right for them, and the Romans were seen as way too close to the French for the PQ to support. The options were clear- complete independence or yet another generation of oppression from the English.

At a hastily-called meeting in downtown Quebec City, the PQ hammered out new policies in its path to the independence of Quebec. No longer would the PQ look to "associate" with anyone, with clear and unhindered independence being the goal. The PQ also took the opportunity to elect a new leader: having soured on their previous leader- Gilles Duceppe, whom many in the party had felt became "too soft" and represented too much the old views of the PQ- the PQ almost unanimously elected 39-year-old babyfaced politician Andre Boisclair as their leader. Bouchard and Parizeau couldn't be more delighted- Boisclair had the youthful energy the PQ wanted, and, with promises of debt relief and economic restructuring, looked to be the leader Quebec would have needed once it became independent. Besides, it finally allowed Bouchard and Parizeau to take a far lesser role in PQ politics, a thought both of them relished.

Bouchard later went on the news to announce the results of the meeting:

"Earlier today, by a 99% vote, we, the PQ, elected Andre Boisclair to be its new leader," Bouchard announced from a Quebec City studio. "We are also announcing that in the absence of a legitimate government in Quebec that we, the PQ, have formally declared ourselves the new government of Quebec. Vive le Quebec libre!" Bouchard finished his announcement with heightened excitement, as he rightly predicted this was a historic night for Quebec.

Not on board with the excitement- as could be expected- was Duceppe. He was the first to leave the PQ meeting, obviously dejected about his loss. However, for him, this loss felt different- being snubbed for an admitted cocaine addict (http://ca.wrs.yahoo.com/_ylt=ApUpvcQAoXz6GP1BW_c1vB3rFAx.;_ylu=X3oDMTBjcWlmbGY5BGwDV1MxBHNlYwNzcg--/SIG=13toim12h/EXP=1135414513/**http%3a//www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20050921/cocaine_boisclair_050921%3fs_name=%26no_ads=), he felt this was more of a political coup than a simple election defeat. Besides, being voted out by a count of 99%- as the final result showed- certainly sent a few signals Duceppe's way. He still wasn't soured yet on the separatist issue, but he now lost faith in the PQ. He decided that if he couldn't lead Quebec, the PQ wouldn't either. He got in his car and drove to Ottawa- where he had a house- to formulate a strategy.

"Bouchard may be celebrating now," said Duceppe to himself as he drove, "but it is I who will be getting the last laugh."

OOC: I introduce RomeW who will be RP'ing the people of Quebec.

During the time of Celtayoshian rule, Canada saw an unprecendented period of glory and success. Premier Roger Nemeth was clearly the best politician Canada had ever raised since William Lyon Mackenzie King- if not better- because it was he that turned Canada into a truly independent and wealthy empire. There was hope that Canada would finally realize its potential for power and that after Nemeth, Canada would become one of the world's premier states.

Then, when Nemeth was assassinated by rebels against the Celtayoshian government, the situation turned sour. The Canadian politicians, instead of working together, griped at each other, creating a fracture that was too deep to recover. Eastern Canada- which was always culturally different from the rest of Canada- split from the West, which was gradually being absorbed into a Roman orbit through the influences of Roman Columbia. Two of the Canadian provinces- Ontario and Alberta- were strong enough to maintain some sort of internal stability while the boat continued to sink, while Manitoba and Saskatchewan fell into disarray without a leader at the till.

The Romans saw the opportunity to meld something together in Canada that could be powerful enough to stand on its own but too weak to mount any sort of challenge on the Empire or Layarteb. The problem was that the chaos in Canada produced nobody that could effectively lead the country. Arguably, Canada's strongest politician- Ralph Klein- refused to get involved nationally, and Ontario's top politician- Dalton McGuinty- never seemed to want to take a stand on anything. As far as the national politicians went, none of them seemed capable of being the leader strong enough to bring Canada to glory. Stephen Harper was about as charismatic as a goat, Jack Layton looked- and sounded- far too much like Vladimir Illych Lenin, and Paul Martin spent most of his time apologizing for everything. The Roman in charge of finding a successor in Canada- Lucius Martius Rodemari, the Governor of Roman Columbia- took pity on the Canadians, lamenting to himself, “oh how unfortunate such a glorious country lacks a glorious leader.”

Then news came out of the events in Québèc. Gilles Duceppe- long known to the Romans as one of the most eloquent and charismatic leaders to come out of North America- had just been brushed aside as leader of the Parti Québèçois in favour of baby-faced Andre Boisclair. Rumours flew that the leftist Duceppe- a former member of the Marxist Party in Montreal- was brushed aside so that Québèc could more easily fit in next to capitalist Layarteb, and Boisclair, being a centre-rightist, would fit the job. Others thought Boisclair was chosen because Québèc badly needed budgetary tightening and he was the right man for the job. In any case, Duceppe was pushed out, so the Romans saw an opportunity. Rodemari wasn’t sure if the rest of Canada would initially accept Duceppe, but he knew in his heart that Canadians- and Rome really- had no other choice.

After consulting with other Roman officials, the decision was ultimately made- the Romans would court Duceppe to be the leader of the new, Roman-protected “Republic of Canada” claiming the rest of the provinces of Canada. In the meantime, Rome would declare Rodemari its interim leader while the Romans work on getting Duceppe.

Official Communiqué To The World From The Roman Government

In the absence of a viable and stable government in Canada, the Roman Government is hereby declaring it is claiming the remaining provinces of Canada- Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Ontario. The provinces shall be reorganized into Roman zones and a new, Roman-protected, Republic of Canada.

***********************************************************************************

Highway 89 & Industrial Parkway, Alliston, Ontario

Gilles Duceppe sat by the window at the Tim Horton’s/Wendy’s combination store patiently drinking his coffee. He’d been living in exile in Ottawa unable to really come up with a plan to unseat Boisclair in Québèc, but he was called to Alliston to meet with Lucius Martius Rodemari, a meeting he’d hoped would provide some progress though at this stage he wasn’t sure what it would be about.

Why’d the Romans pick this place? thought Duceppe to himself, examining the sleepy town that he was in. This town’s in the middle of nowhere, and it’s a dump. Why couldn’t we have a lakefront meeting? At least there’d be something to look at.

Eventually, Rodemari arrived. His coat was soaked as it was raining outside, but he was upbeat. In his briefcase was an offer Rodemari thought Duceppe couldn’t refuse, so he was confident that the meeting would go over well.

“Hello Mr. Duceppe. How are you?” said Rodemari in Latin-accented English, trying to make Duceppe feel comfortable.
“I’m good. I just wonder what I am doing in this boring town?” said Duceppe in clear- but obviously French-accented- English.
Rodemari let out a chuckle. “The reason for this is that we wanted to hold a secret meeting with you in a place where no one would suspect it, but close enough to Toronto that we can make a run for it. Alliston is just the place. Plus, there is a military base in nearby Borden, so we’ll have ‘backup’ should we need it.”
Duceppe nodded. “Okay. So what do you have for me today?”
“We are offering you the Consulship to the Republic of Canada. We know that you are a Québèçois and not a Canadian, but knowing who you are and what you are capable of, we know that you are clearly the best leader Canada has. The PQ does not want you, and neither does Québèc. We want you, because you are the only hope for Canada.”
Duceppe smirked. He wasn’t about to betray his homeland because his neighbours were too stupid to govern.
Rodemari was prepared for Duceppe’s reaction. “I understand you’re hesitant of the proposition, but let’s look at the facts. The PQ disgraced you, and public support for you in Québèc is at an all-time low for you. We are certain that if you go back you will be burned alive. Why do you want to go back to that, when you can have a country that wants you and supports you here?”
“Would a disgraced leader desert his homeland because it betrayed him, or would he try to win it back?” snapped an obviously defiant Duceppe.
Rodemari winced. He would have said the exact same thing if he were in Duceppe’s shoes, but he had a job to do so he had to use his rhetoric skills. “Gilles,” started Rodemari, who was trying very hard not to look like he was grasping for words, “do you know of King Faisal?”
“No, I cannot say that I have.”
“He was the King of Syria- rightfully acclaimed and honoured by the people. Then the French invaded Syria and kicked him out, later being rejected by the people for not being able to defend Syria. Years later, the British came to him to offer him rule of Iraq, where the people wanted him. He graciously accepted, and ruled Iraq for eleven years. You too can have that very same opportunity here- rejected by Québèc, wanted by Canada. It is not one you should refuse.
Furthermore, there are plenty of French-Canadians in the rest of Canada who would want you to rule over them- Northern Ontario, for instance, and the Métis in Manitoba, among others. Plus, we know you have the capabilities to be a strong leader in the rest of Canada, and if you give them the opportunity to show them what you can do, they will love you. Trust me, you will be wanted here, you just need to come with us.”
Duceppe was still apprehensive.
“This offer also comes with a yearly salary of 400 sesterces per year, or, in Canadian funds, some $5 million a year.”
Duceppe’s eyes perked. He never earned $200,000 a year in his entire career as a politician, and while 400 sesterces was the salary for the Consuls of the Empire, it was still a lot more than he’d ever made his entire political career. Still, he wasn’t going to let money make him leave Québèc.
“You can offer me the Moon, but I won’t leave Québèc.”
Rodemari winced again. He had to think quickly, as he realized Duceppe rejected the offer that he was certain he couldn’t refuse. “Do you want an opportunity to defeat the PQ? We will give you that opportunity should you agree to come with us.”
That would be the clincher. Duceppe tentatively agreed to play along with the Romans, hoping that by aligning himself with them he’d be able to exact revenge on the very people who had wronged him.

Québèc City, Québèc

In his first few months in power, Boisclair was able to achieve many successes. He cut taxes, balanced the budget and started to pay down Quebec’s massive debt. Economic forecasts were suddenly turning rosy, with many in the PQ starting to dream of the world power that would become Québèc.

However, despite the rosy outlook, Boisclair wasn’t so confident. The Layartebians wouldn’t sit on their doorstep forever, and would probably act sooner rather than later so as to prevent Boisclair’s Québèc from becoming too powerful. He decided to propose to the PQ about the possibility of an alliance with the Layartebians’ archenemies, the Republican Liberation Army.

The reaction was mixed. Some feared that allying with the RLA would lead to certain doom at the hands of Layarteb, but others- who saw how effective the RLA were in Vermont in their ability to inflict a major public relations victory against the Empire, as well as in other operations such as the bombings of the Boeing 707 and the Airbus A300 in New York State. If they had an army- which Québèc had- they could be strong enough to win the revolutionary war they were waging with the Empire.

Eventually, Boisclair won the day. “Get me on the phone immediately with the head of the RLA. Let them know that if they help us remain independent, we will help them win the war with Layarteb.”

OOC: Rome, just to let you know, since this is after Quebec has been claimed by the Empire basically they're part of the Province of Dnalkrad. They really have no self rule nor any type of elected leadership except on a local level. The State of Quebec as it is referred to, is led by a governor who is appointed from the top. It's all authoritarian once you leave the local level. But looking good. Shall we?

New Hampshire had been a disaster and a success.for the RLA. Their entire crew was either killed or captured and they wound up making more of a bad name for themselves then they had hoped for, especially since they shot rescuers in the back. They knew that the public wasn't going to like them taking a bunch of kids hostage but they had never had any plans to actually detonate the bombs nor had they any wanted to have the chaos that ensued. Something very wrong went wrong and they were now looking worse than the Empire. They incited fear into many but they also enraged more.

George Mason, the leader of the Illuminati was someone who was strict about his orders being followed out. He really hated when they were botched up, especially when it came to such sensitive and major operations as this was. On the surface he was a well-respected banker and President of the National Bank of the Empire and his salary was more than most people made their entire lives. He had a seriously stressful position and a very taxing one. Under the surface, however, he was the leader of the Illuminati and he was, by all principle, the most powerful civilian in the country, mainly from this connection.

Fluent in Latin, George Mason was listening to "O Fortuna" when the phone rang. He didn't like to be interrupted during any classical music but this was an urgent call, the ID showed that. Always in the middle of something good. He groaned and lifted the phone. "This is Mason. How can I be of service?" He wasn't sure who it was on the other end so he had to act completely nonchalant.

"Mr. Mason. My name is Andre Boisclair. It is good to meet you."

"Mr. Boisclair. I agree. I have heard good things of your Quebec."

"My good things are soon to be overshadowed."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now Mr. Mason. You know what I am talking about."

"You mean the Empire?"

"I do. Quebec is integral to the plan of the Empire and is far too valuable for any hope of independence."

"This is true."

"Independence is something that we've been hoping for since the early Celtayoshian days."

"No fight for independence can go on against the Empire. The most successful was Kaliningrad and all they achieved, apart from a leveled and shattered country was autonomy. It is doubtful that the Empire would allow such to bestow upon Quebec."

"We agree. Which is where you can help me."

"How is that?"

"We have an army and you have a mobilization force."

"I do not understand."

"The letters R-L-A come to mind."

"I am afraid that I do not know what you are talking about and I am afraid that I have to go. My answering service will be able to arrange for you to meet with me concerning the future of Quebec."

"Understood. Have a wonderful night."

"And you." He transfered the call back to his answering service but before he made it so that they were able to dial into the call he connected to them himself. "Can you arrange for Mr. Boisclair to meet with me in two days at a place of his choosing?"

"Yes sir. Have a good night." The answering service got the call and Mr. Mason went back to his music. The call irked him and he didn't know how this guy knew he was connected to the RLA but he knew that if this guy knew, more would know. If it came out that he was directing the RLA then he would be easily found and the entire organization compromised. The Illuminati were secretive within the Freemasons and their existence wasn't even a fact but rather just a rumor. If it became a fact then it would catastrophic. He needed to confront this man and see what his intentions were, to see if he was a spy, and to see if he was useful.

OOC Source for Photo- http://radio-canada.ca/nouvelles/acces/suite.asp?lien=/nouvelles/Index/nouvelles/200312/08/006-pcc-naissance-rb.shtml

Canadian Consulate Office (fomer Italian Consulate), Beverly & Dundas, Toronto, Ontario

As soon as word got out that Duceppe was going to be appointed Consul of Canada, the Canadian press went on the offensive. "Canada Betrayed" ran the headline at The Toronto Star, while the Calgary Herald boldly declared, "Canada The Ruse To Win Back Quebec". The press was concerned of the Romans' motives, and many saw the hiring of a separatist as a slap in the face to Canada.

However, after Duceppe made his first speech as Consul, the criticisms died somewhat, but not completely. In his speech, he unequivocally declared that he was acting purely in the interests of Canada and that Quebec itself "was a distant memory". He went on to say that all along he never "minded" Canada and had realized now that the country had given him- and Quebec so much- and felt that the Consulship was his duty to "repay" Canada for their gifts.

http://radio-canada.ca/nouvelles/ressources/images/normales/d/du/020603duceppegilles3_n.jpg
Duceppe in his first public address to Canada as Consul

"I still hold a bit of resentment for what happened to me in Quebec," said Duceppe during his speech, "but I cannot let what happened to me in the past get to me- I must move on. In the process, the situation has made me realize the hospitality that Canada has shown to us Quebecois, that you have always made us feel welcome, and, ultimately, that is why I chose to become your Consul. It is time to bridge the gap between French-Canadians and English-Canadians and create a Canada that all of us can be proud of."

He would later annouce some $10 billion in additional funding to the Toronto Transit Commission and GO Transit, the Greater Toronto Area's transit service, giving both services needed boosts. He also pledged billions in farmers' aid and in healthcare, promising to cut down wait times dramatically. He also announced intentions to review Canada's natural resource uses and to develop a plan to maximize their efficiency. "Canada is a nation of untold wealth," said Duceppe, "so it is our duty to master and exploit it."

Still, in his mind, Duceppe was in Quebec. He took the Consulship job seriously but he wasn't going to let that take away from his primary objective, and that was to take out the PQ. He realized that he couldn't outright move against Quebec for that would give away his intentions- rather, he'd wait for Quebec to blink. In the meantime, he'd have to wait...

Quebec City, Quebec

Boisclair was perturbed by Mason's reactions on the phone. He knew that Mason would be uneasy given that he did not know the Parti Quebecois or any of its ideals, but his offhanded refusal to acknowledge the RLA's existance surprised him. Surely my ministers gave me the right guy...

He then determined to meet with Mason in Rimouski, a rich cultural city two and a quarter hours from Estcourt Station, on the border between Maine and Quebec. He needed to assure him that Quebec will be on his side, and that if the two work together then both would be able to achieve their goals. He wasn't worried about convincing Mason- all he was worried about was time.

The speech by Duceppe went into the analysts folders immediately. Within an hour after it was made, the Emperor had a full analysis on the entire situation, including his plans, what he had eaten for lunch three days ago, and the last four purchases on his credit card bill. Duceppe was an interesting character and the Emperor was definitely interested with Quebec. He was determined to make it part of the Empire. With forces amassed on the border, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were finally ready to advance and storm into Quebec City. He had one position that was being intensely studied. The Quebecois were definitely not the most pleasant people to rule and they were not about to suddenly bow to the Emperor and accept his rule unconditionally. If they were going to become part of the Empire they would spill as much blood as they could. With that, they had an instant friendship with the RLA, who also loathed the Empire. If the two groups allied it could be a big problem for the Empire. The RLA was nothing more than a semi-organized bunch of terrorists. The Quebecois had an army. This was definitely an alliance that need not be exercised.

Rimouski

Mason stepped out of the cabin of his helicopter, a Bell 412EP painted in the colors of the bank emblem. It was chilly in Rimouski and he was not happy about being there. Mr. Boisclair had linked him to the RLA and that was not good. How the fuck does this frog know I am in the RLA? He thought to himself as he looked around. He had a pistol tucked away inside his suit jacket, an M33A5 Pistol with seventy rounds on him in five fourteen-round magazines. His helicopter pilots both had submachine guns, M43A6s with one hundred and twenty rounds each, in two, double clipped, thirty-round magazines. In addition, walking by his side was a bodyguard, armed with two M33A5s, one hundred and twelve rounds of .357SIG ammunition and a smoke grenade. The two men approached what looked like a bar. "That's the place. Listen. If I pull the bottom of my right ear we're taking this guy out. Understood?

"Yes sir. However this guy got to this conclusion I am unaware sir."

"Me too. We're going to find out. I had Martin run a background check on this guy."

"What did it say?"

"He isn't a fan of the Empire nor is he someone who wants to see Quebec come into the hands of the Emperor."

"Okay but does that make him a good guy?"

"I'm not sure. Is the sniper team in place?"

"Yes sir. I had Bill and Paxton take up two positions to the two bar exits. If he gets off running we'll have him on the ground in fifteen seconds."

"What is their loadout?"

"They have M30A5s with silencers."

"Excellent."

"Shall we sir?"

"Yeah let's get this done with." The two men walked into the bar. It was dimly lit and they didn't see their contact there. The bar seemed to be horrible from the outside, something out of a third world hell-hole. Inside, however, it was nice, well cleaned, and well stocked. "Not so bad." Mason whispered. His bodyguard smirked.

They found a corner booth and sat down. A beautiful, young French woman came up to them and asked them what they were drinking. For now it was just whiskey.

"Mr. Mason," said Boisclair happily as he entered the restaurant. "Nice to meet you." He offered his hand to shake but Mason refused. I see...

"The reason why I came here today is that my ministers told me that you are the person to talk to if we are to get a hold of the Republican Liberation Army," said a boisterous Boisclair, "One of my ministers- Richard Legendre (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Legendre)- knows some RLA members personally. In fact, he was a tennis buddy to the person who lead the attack on Laconia. My did he look sexy there." Boisclair- an openly gay politician (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andre_Boisclair)- then smiled, but Mason gave him a weird look.

"I apologize. I creep out my friends too, but you'll get used to it," said Boisclair, who then beemed another smile.

"Anyway, I am a great admirer of the RLA's work," continued Boisclair, who resisted the urge to call them sexy. "Quebec itself had a similar terrorist group once- le Front de Liberation du Quebec, or the FLQ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FLQ), I'm not sure if you are aware of them. They led two successful kidnappings but were caught very quickly, their failure being the reason why support went to political means of seperation. However, now we have to spill blood, because there is no way the Layartebian Empire will sit on our doorstep and wait for us to get powerful. We're surrounded by Layarteb, so it's only a matter of time before we're taken too.

"We also know that, alone, we cannot function- we are too heavily in debt, and need resources badly, especially if we are to counter Layarteb. We could attack Maine and take it for a seaport, but the Layartebians probably have that border very well defended, since they are probably preparing to invade us. So therefore we are proposing an attack on Ontario. We don't suspect that the Romans have set themselves up in the province yet, and the border nearest to Cornwall is just a line drawn in the ground, making it easy pickings for an attack. On top of this, the route to Toronto isn't very difficult- it's all just farmland, and the Macdonald-Cartier Freeway (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macdonald-Cartier_Freeway) will lead us right there. After we take Toronto, we will go right for Layarteb City via Lake Ontario- if we strike where the Layartebians won't expect it, then we'll have a greater chance for success. Together, we can take out the heart of not just Canada, but the Layartebian Empire as a whole."

Homosexuality was something that was banned inside the Empire. This fruitcake doesn't know what he's getting into with these plans. If anything he's just completely off his rocker. Mason kept a stern disposition. "So you want to actually invade Maine or New York?" He jumbled the thought for a second. "Not to sound arrogant or demeaning but your army wouldn't make it past five miles before the Air Force alone squashed it. The Province of Layarteb is the oldest province of the Empire, New York being the oldest territory. Invading it is impossible. The Dnalkradians tried to wage war once. They seized an embassy. They vanished. You might know of them. Newfoundland and Labrador were one of them. An actual invasion is nothing more than a failed attempt that not only will be crushed beyond their wildest dreams but you're going to draw way too much attention.

"Laconia was something that went wrong. It drew attention and lots of it. That was the idea. We're not looking to overthrow the Empire by invading. That'll never work. We have better chances of colonizing Mars. No the goal is an internal revolution. You see the Emperor has banned any public protesting but how can they arrest one hundred thousand or a million or ten million people, all protesting? Are they going to fire into the crowds, onto unarmed civilians? No they won't, not even they are that evil. They'll use tear gas, people will see. The people love the Emperor for one reason. The Empire is protected, there is safety, people are free to live their lives, within bounds, without fear of crime or external violence. A nation whose people have nothing to fear walking down the street. Fear is a disease Mr. Boisclair. Diseases spread." Mason became uneasy. He was saying too much and he knew it. He looked to his bodyguard and gave a look. It said one thing, This meeting is over. But he didn't act on the look. He just continued.

"Perhaps you are better aiming towards Ontario. The Romans have not established themselves yet nor have they anywhere near the level of security that we have. I can tell you now, no army is big enough to invade and take Layarteb City without suffering casualties in the ninety percent bracket. It would be a phyrric victory, if even a victory at all.

"The Romans will respond, they will fight back. However, if they can be delayed and prevented from getting into the area with any force then you have a chance. The invasion requires you to get into position, dig in, and counter the offensive, flanked strikes the Romans throw. Pay close attention to their battle tactics from Dallas and Bolivia. They are not weak nor are they stupid. A Roman invasion will mostly likely not cause anything from the Empire except some annoyance. A successful invasion may incite possible border actions but should things along the border escalate you can count on a Layartebian offensive."

"My reasoning for going towards Ontario is that Rome isn't prepared," said Boisclair. "Their rule is just new and, if we're lucky, all we'll be faced with is Canadian materials. We just know that Quebec alone won't be enough to take on Layarteb- we need Ontario's economic strength; and yes, an invasion of Layarteb City is next to impossible, but from our standpoint it is a necessity. It's either we take out their hearts or they take ours."

Boisclair shifted in his seat, his exuberance having died somewhat. "Our best bet would be a surprise invasion of Ontario," continued Boisclair, "since we need their resources; and, if you help us out, we will let you rule it, and use it as a base for the Revolution that will overthrow the Empire.

"Say, you know of the American Revolution, no? Where the American Colonists rose up to defeat their Imperial Overlords Britain? You know who helped them? The French. This will be the same situation. You, the purveyors of freedom and reason, will rise up against tyranny and oppression, and who will be there to help you? Us. We may not share a common language Mr. Mason, but together we share a vision- a vision of a time when oppression exists no more, and there is only democracy."

Boisclair's beeming smile reappeared. He knew that Mason would either be pleased with his statements or still see him as a fruit more eccentric than a kiwi. Either way, he was happy. Really happy. "Pierre!" Boisclair called to the bar, "get me a beer. You know what it is." It's time to celebrate

"Interesting point of view. It seems that this situation is difficult. Ontario is of no concern to the Emperor and I can assure you of that. An invasion in may result in a response from the Empire, only if Rome requests. The problem therein is that the if they request it there shall be nothing. However, there is an option here, which is definitely viable. I can offer the assistance of RLA fighters to assist you. Chances are they're going to be elite and highly trained, probably about forty of them. They'll operate pretty independently except for some minor chain of command requests but they can be there to help.

"After an advance across the border, we suggest Toronto be taken at the earliest convience. If you stage north at Alliston, you can probably cut them off from the rest of Ontario. Once you stage there and attack southward, take the city of Toronto, you can begin to amass a sizeable force, continue to take the rest of Ontario, and begin Quebec. Following the establishment of that you can begin to make plans.

"The Empire will invade, probably, but there is a way to force them to not advance. If you somehow convey to them that your intentions into New York are non-existent and that you will not mess with the linking of the provinces at all, grant flyover rights, and this and that, they may not invade. This should buy you enough time, no?" He sipped his scotch and looked around. Definitely not the most comfortable place at the moment. He said as he jumbled the gun underneath his jacket. He made sure to keep it hidden and to ensure that it wasn't seen through the jacket either.

Quebec-New York Border

AH-94A Stalker helicopters kept up a constant patrol as units amassed no less than fifteen miles away. Barbed wire and land mines had been placed to ensure that the Quebecois didn't go southward. Armored units would be led through cleared paths that would allow them to attack without warning. Artillery rocket units were sitting between ten and twenty-four miles from the border, grouped in pairs. All of the units were linked into the main battlefield directive and orders to shoot were being handled from a command center forty miles away. RQ-1 Predator UAVs were in the air as well, maintaining twenty-six thousand feet up, each armed with an array of cameras and FLIR sensors that would detect target movements. A pair of RQ-10A Pegasus ultra-stealth UAVs, armed with 250 lb. JDAM II bombs were up in the air as well.

In addition, several units from 3rd SOF 'Recon Force' were sitting at the main command center as well. They had eight MV-24B Bulldog transports at their disposal, each of them capable of carrying twenty-four men. They would only need four of them to deploy their entire force and they weren't about to do that. The Bulldog was a unique aircraft that looked like a whale from the top and it was far more capable than its nickname led on. The transport could carry over 13,000 pounds of ordinance, which mostly consisted of unguided rockets and AGM-65 Maverick missiles.

The eight aircraft were to be escorted by several F-35B Raven V/STOVL fighters, also based at the central command base. These were stealthy multirole fighters that would be armed with air to air as well as air to ground ordinance to strike and destroy any major threats to the Bulldogs, which would prevent them from completing their mission.

In the crisp night air, soldiers were quiet. They didn't know when the order to invade was going to come nor did they realize the full situation. The upper brass were working to organize as many forces on the border as they could, which would enable them to invade straight through to the capital without causing a gap in their supply lines. By the time it was over, they hoped to have two Army Forces on the border, which was over 600,000 men including tanks, artillery, supply vehicles, and other fighting vehicles.

"Alliston, eh?" started Boisclair. "I have not heard of it...you say it's 90km from Toronto and would make a perfect staging point for an invasion?"

Boisclair stopped and pulled out his PDA, tuning the Internet to Mapquest.ca. "Ah, yes Alliston! Now I see a potential route."

"I apologize for the formatting. I think my PDA needs service." He then proceeded to show the route to Mason:

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/ontariomap.jpg

OOC: Highway 11 is Yonge Street, Highway 42 is Steeles Avenue, the northern boundary of Toronto (the 427 is the western boundary, and I have marked the Scarborough-Pickering townline in black which is Toronto's eastern boundary). Steeles in RL does not have a highway designation- I just gave it one so it could marked on the map

"You have given me a better idea than what I had originally thought," said Boisclair, smiling like he always was, "Instead of invading at Cornwall- where they might expect us- our route of entry will be from Quebec Highway 117, which becomes Ontario Highway 66. Then we travel along Yonge Street to Highway 400, where we turn to Highway 89, then the 50, Steeles Avenue and then back on Yonge to downtown Toronto and final victory. If we go directly for Toronto then we'll face more resistance, but if we go around the big centres (especially in York Region) then our trip will be easier, and we can hit them where they don't expect it." He then wanted to say that afterward they could stop by the bar at Church & Wellesley, but he realized that Mason wasn't gay, or at least didn't seem so.

Mason looked at the plan. He doesn't know what he is about to bring upon himself but I shall comply. I'll give him just enough rope to hang himself. What gain I can have from it I know not but give it time. Mason thought to himself with a smirk. "I do believe you have a good plan there Mr. Boisclair. Perhaps within due time we can have this entire mess sorted out and we can look back at this meeting and say, 'This is when it happened. This is when the tyranny of the Empire was finally ruled out.' I look forward to future contact concerning this matter but we must not be so obvious. Please make no attempt to contact me or any members of the RLA for at least two weeks. Remain as if your normal schedule. This is definitely no time for picnics. We must tread carefully. The intelligence services of the CJA are very pervasive. If they get wind of this it will filter down to both of us within days. Nobody has ever been known to resist and interrogation session and how long it takes to crack is a mystery. They are persistant and they know no bounds.

"I understand that you take my warning carefully. This is a very difficult time. The wrong move, no matter how simply, could lead to an entire downfall of these plans. We have invested time and money of an incalcuable level into this project. We will NOT take or accept failure. We are too close. Twenty-six years has brought us here. Let me give you this piece of advice. Should the Quebecois betray our trust or lead us to failure we will put our war with the Empire on hiatus, they will be there when we return, and focus all of our efforts against the Quebecois. Understood?" He looked with stern resolve as he waited for Boisclair's reaction.

Party pooper. Why can't he be loose like me? I think he needs to get laid. "Don't worry Mr. Mason! Your secret is safe with me!" Boisclair's smile didn't disappear, although inside Boisclair worried about tripping up.

"This has been most productive! Thank you for this meeting!" said a beeming Boisclair. "We shall meet again in two weeks!

Bosiclair again offered his hand, but Mason refused. Oh I see- 'Mr. Official'. You know, this is turning me on...wait! Snap out of it! SNAP OUT OF IT! He then got up from the table and proceeded to the exit, where his limosuine was waiting to take him back to Quebec City.

When he came back to Quebec, he did what he was told. No contact whatsoever with anyone in the RLA for two weeks. He also sent a transmission out to the Empire of Layarteb informing them that Quebec will not interfere at all with communications with Dnalkrad, granting the Empire flyover rights, and said that Quebec has no intentions to move into New York. He also opened the door to "productive and rewarding relations" between Quebec and the Empire. He wanted to say "fruitful" but his advisors told him that'd be a dead-ringer for his status as a gay politician. He did, however, leave out a request for a non-agression pact, for he was certain Layarteb would abuse it.

He then got a hold of his advisors and began to plot. Ontario would be invaded as soon as he came back into contact with the RLA. He also inquired about the resources needed to carry out a terrorist attack on the subway in Toronto, which he figured could be a precursor to an invasion. They could use a little jolt...

The next two weeks were quiet. Things inside the Empire slowed down. A few low-level arrests were made by the CJA of individuals of the RLA, nothing good enough to go on. While Mason went about his daily life, leading the National Bank of the Empire, the Quebecois were planning something serious. An invasion of Ontario would establish the Quebecois as a powerful opponent in the region, certainly one that the Empire would have to take seriously. The goal was to catch them by surprise. If the invasion was successful and Ontario fell to the Quebecois, they would have a major staging point for an invasion into New York, in which Layarteb City was the primary target. The fall of that city meant the dissolution of the Empire. Mason didn't believe this to be possible. His plan and the plan of the Illuminati and the RLA was to topple the Empire from internal strife. The elites were already beginning to like the Empire less and less. The army was, unfortunately, still loyal to the Emperor but that could be swayed. Soldiers were generally honorable men. Large scale protests would call them out and possibly require them to fire on the crowd. Mason was counting on their conscience to take over and disobey that order, should it be given.

This would shake the trust in the Empire from the point of view of both the army and the civilian population, the goal. All that required after that was to have the populace gain a general distrust in the Emperor and the government. Once the entire populace felt this way it would spread like a disease and shake the faith in the Empire. It wouldn't be long before Governor's Island was invaded and seized by "Republican" forces, led by the Illuminati. Aside from the plans and the looming threat of internal collapse, the majority of the forces in Northern Layarteb were poised along the border to invade Quebec. However, something else was going on, something dangerous and not far from the Quebec border.

Lake Placid, New York

The mountains of the Appalachians and Adirondacks were full of military bunkers, command sites, and secret facilities. They were perfect for the task. The Adirondacks ran right through northeastern New York, the hub of the Empire. They had over a hundred peaks, ranging from a thousand to five thousand feet. Mining was once a significant industry in the Adirondacks. The region is rich in magnetic iron ores, which were mined for many years. Other mineral products are graphite, garnet used as an abrasive, pyrite and zinc ore. There is also a great quantity of Titanium, which was mined extensively. Many of the mines that had been shut down had been transformed into these military facilities, many of them. There was one other mineral that was found there and in large amounts, magnetite, the most magnetic of all the minerals on Earth. Aside from New York, personnel from the Empire discovered a vast deposit of magnetite-bearing sand dunes in Peru. The dune field covers 250 km², with the highest dune at over 2000 m above the desert floor. The sand contained 10% magnetite. This was part of the reasoning for invading Peru.

Magnetite had been used extremely effectively by the military. It had been refined and synthesized to become much like an alien mineral similar in property but far more capable. That mineral was magnetide. It was first discovered in downed UFOs and it was a source of fuel for their fusion drives. Unfortunately, the samples recovered from downed UFOs were often small in quantity because of its power and because of the nature of the recovery. UFOs were often downed by ground launched missiles or aircraft firing at high speeds, with closure velocities in excess of Mach 4 in some cases. Interceptions by ground launched missiles were often in excess of Mach 6. Wreckages were sometimes skewed across miles of wooden forests, often in upstate New York, presumably because of the magnetite resources. It was theorized that whomever flew those UFOs also used magnetite to create their mineral, magnetide.

Lake Placid had been the source of a magnetite mining operation. That operation had long since been shut down and now it was the site of a chemical weapons facility, buried between three hundred and six hundred feet below the surface. It was one of the most secure and one of the largest chemical weapons facilities in the entire Empire. It was the main source of new technologies and hybrid operations. VX-II-A had been synthesized here. However, what they were working on now made VX look like mustard gas. The scientists working inside the facility had been working now, for at least ten to eighteen months on a new type of nerve gas. So far on the two types existed, the G-series, named so for their German origin and the V-series named for "venom." The new series they were working on would be the L-series, named so for their origin, Layarteb. VX, often regarded as the deadliest nerve agent created to date, as little as 10 mg is enough to kill an average person. LA, the first in the series of L-series agents would be as deadly as 1 mg. The most commonly used antidote for VX is atropine which is issued for military personnel in the form of an autoinjector. For the L-series, atropine was useless.

VX nerve gas kills by interrupting the breakdown of the neurotransmitters that signal muscles to contract, preventing them from relaxing. Initial symptoms following exposure to nerve agents are a runny nose, tightness in the chest, and constriction of the pupils. Soon after, the victim will then have difficulty breathing, and will experience nausea and drooling. As the victim continues to lose control of his or her bodily functions, he or she will involuntarily vomit, defecate, and urinate. This phase is followed by twitching and jerking, and ultimately, the victim will become comatose and suffocate as a consequence of convulsive spasms.

LA nerve gas worked differently, despite doing the same effect. LA had been laced with one additional type of agent, a burning agent. Aside from all of the symptoms of exposure to nerve gas, the LA series cause the skin to literally melt off, bubbling and turning into liquified goo. In addition, the time it would take for the symptoms to appear would be almost instant. Following exposure, neurotransmitters would immediately go into a state of extreme hyperactivity, causing severe muscle spasms, so violent they could break bones, beginning with the spine and the back. As the neurotransmitters were sent into hyperactivity, their skin begins to bubble and melt. Within sixty to ninety seconds, the individual dies from internal bleeding, shock, and asphyxiation. The L-series were disgusting in their effects. Mice and rats were exposed to their LD50 and died in the most horrific ways. Cats, dogs, monkeys, and even a horse all went through the same effects.

The LA would be the first in the L-series. The series were also as persistant as the V-series, and could be used for area denial. But that wasn't even the half of it. The L-series could be deployed through aerosol, through the water, through food supplies, and through weapons. It was highly lethal and fast acting. The consistency of this agent is similar to oil, just like the V-series.

Today, December 8, a full gallon of the LA agent had been synthesized, under the most hazardous and dangerous conditions. It was stored in eight small canisters, each holding sixteen ounces of the agent. Despite tests on animals, the military needed a real test, a test in actual conditions, against actual individuals, on an actual town, and that town had already been selected. The town was Jay, Vermont. The town had a total population of 426 and a total area of 88.0 km² (34.0 mi²). This was a perfect testing ground and once it was "discovered" it would be blamed on the Quebecois, a reason for the invasion. The justification for the Quebecois attack would be a "demonstration" that they had chemical agents. The attack would be blamed on VX, not this new L-series, which was definitely going to remain highly classified.

December 9

The F-19A Ghostrider sat in its hangar at a New York airbase. It had been loaded with two AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM and two AIM-204A Escape missiles for air to air, though it wasn't going to be needed. Ground crew were loading the main ordinance inside the air to ground weapons bay, which were a pair of bombs, more or less airbursting canisters. Each one was filled with thirty-two ounces of the chemical LA and they were set to airburst at an altitude of 600 feet.

The pilot was selected from a handful. He had flown over sixty-four missions, all but two over enemy territory. The two he had flown over friendly territory were reconnaissance missions against terrorist groups in the past. He was fully aware of what he had to do but he didn't know the full grasp of his mission. He was supposed to fly over the town at 2,400 feet and drop both canister bombs, which were "leaflets." He was told the town was an RLA stronghold and the leaflets would tell of their impending arrest. He wasn't aware of what really was going on, nor would he be clued in, ever.

He taxied his aircraft onto the runway and took off with full military thrust. His aircraft gracefully lurched into the sky and he retracted the flaps and landing gear. He climbed to 18,000 feet for the majority of his journey. He would be cruising at 600 mph and he would be able to relax a little as he flew the way from Syracuse to Jay, which was almost 200 miles. He would be over the target in twenty minutes, enough time to put it on autopilot and just relax, temporarily. Once he was over the target, he would descend down to 2,400 feet and come around for another pass. Down at 2,400 feet, he decelerated down to 450 mph and pickled the bombs. He dropped them on target and on schedule, climbing out of the bomb run back to 18,000 feet and back up to 600 mph.

The bombs fell, spin-stablized. Then, at 600 feet, a small charge burst the bombs open. Their warhead, thirty-two ounces of Agenta LA spread out and fell onto the city, expanding as it fell. Those in the small town who were outside, and heard the aircraft fly over, were hit first. They fell to the ground, their skin melting off, the chemical taking effect. Those close to the blast zone, inside their homes, died next, breathing in minute particles of the chemical agent in their sleep or through their windows. Only those on the very edge of the town would survive, a grand total of 42 of them. The F-19 landed back at Syracuse and the pilot was proud of what he did, after all, he just sent a message to the RLA. He didn't know though, unfortunately, that the town wasn't RLA controlled but rather just harmless civilians, who were now dead or dying under the chemical attack, which was Agent LA, manufactured by the Empire.

December 8

Daniel Girard was excited. Today was his birthday, and while he was worried that the Roman transition in Ontario wasn't happening quickly enough, he didn't have the time to care about that. For now, he was set on finding something to wear for his big night. It was party time for the York University student, and he was going to make sure it was the time of his life.

He got on at Downsview Station (www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Downsview Station), the northernmost station on the University-Spadina subway line and the closest to York, at around 4:10PM to make the short, three-station trek to Yorkdale to find some clothes. As he got off at Yorkdale, he noticed a man wearing a chain with the letters "RLA" on it, which he was obviously trying to cover up with his jacket. Girard knew what the initials "RLA" meant but didn't think that much about it, since the York student was used to activist rebels prancing around on campus. He and the man didn't make eye-contact, since Girard made his observations in passing and was lost in the cavalcade of incoming passengers.

However, the man was more than just mere a activist- he was a real terrorist. As the subway car pulled into St. Andrew Station, the last stop before Union Station (www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toronto Union Station), Toronto's most used station stop, he donned a skimask and an airmask and pulled out an aerosol can and sprayed something into the air. Immediately afterward, many in the car started to convulse, later collapsing to ground in sheer agony. He then waited for the subway car to fill with passengers from Union, where he wipped out the can and sprayed again. He then got off at King Station, the next stop.

Eventually, details arose concerning the incident. There were ten men, one for each car, each of which carried an aerosol can that sprayed sarin. Some 400 people were left dead, and the subways were deactivated for the weekend while the Toronto Police cleaned the cars and continued their investigation in the matter. Later in the evening, a chilling report came during the evening news:

"This is the Front de Liberation du Quebec, or, as you better know, the FLQ. We attacked your precious subway to show you that Quebec will no longer let Canada dictate its politics. We are hitting back, and we will make you all the slaves you should be."

OOC Orbat For the Canadian Armed Forces:

From: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Forces

Total Strength

Military Manpower
Availability- (males age 15-49) 8,417,314 (2004 est.)
Fit for military service- (males age 15-49) 7,176,642 (2004 est.)
Total active troops- 63,700 (Ranked 60th)

Military expenditures
Dollar figure (FY03/04)- $12.9 billion (13th in 2004)
Percent of GDP (FY03/04)- 1.1% (128th in 2003)

Military strength

Land Force Command

Main Battle Tanks- 114 Leopard MBT
Infantry fighting vehicles- 300+
Armoured Personnel Carriers- 1,000+

Air Command

Aircraft ~400 (including helicopters)

Equipment

Arrmy

From: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Forces_Land_Force_Command#Equipment

Vehicles:

G-Wagen 4 × 4, light utility vehicle - replaced the Iltis light trucks
Volkswagen Iltis light trucks - 1,900 units ordered in 1983 and replaced by the G-Wagen in 2004
Mamba and Nyala mine-proof 4 × 4 armoured personnel carrier
MLVW medium logistic vehicle, wheeled
LSVW light support vehicle, wheeled
HLVW heavy lift vehicle
ROWPU (reverse-osmosis water purification unit)
AVGP 6 × 6 armoured vehicle (general purpose)
Cougar (armoured fire support)
Grizzly (armoured personnel carrier)
Husky (armoured recovery)
Coyote Reconnaissance Vehicle (8 × 8)
M113A3 tracked armoured personnel carrier
MTVL (mobile tactical vehicle, light)
LAV III 8 × 8 (light armoured vehicle)
ADATS (air-defence, antitank system)
Leopard C1 main battle tank
Leopard C2 main battle tank
M109 self-propelled howitzer
Bv206
CH-146 Griffon tactical transport helicopter
Ford M151A2 - 935 vehicles order in 1974-1975 and replaced by the Iltis truck in 1983

Weapons:

C9 machine-gun
C7A1 rifle/C8A1 carbine/C-7A2 rifle
C6 machine-gun
Browning .50 calibre heavy machine-gun
Browning-HP 9 mm pistol
Long Range Sniper Weapon (LRSW)
C3A1 sniper rifle
C13 fragmentation grenade
M-203 grenade launcher
TOW anti-tank missile
Carl Gustav
M72 anti-tank weapon
81 mm mortar
60 mm mortar
ERYX short-range anti-armour weapon (heavy)
Javelin short-range air defence missile
LG1 Mark II 105 mm towed howitzer
M777 lightweight 155mm howitzer
Skyguard / 35 mm twin-gun low-level air defence
C1 close support howitzer
C3 close support howitzer
P225, 226 (naval boarding parties, pilots and JTF operators)

Air Force

(Breakdown will be discussed later in the post)
Information:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Forces_Air_Command#Current_Strength

(Note: The Sirkorsky CH 148 Cyclone are on order, but they are existing aircraft, so I'm going to use them)

For the purposes of this thread (and to make everything easier on me), I'm going to divide everything Canada has in half- half will go to Quebec and the other half will go to the rest of Canada (Quebec actually has its own separate command base, unlike Ontario which is grouped with Manitoba). It will be organized as follows:

(Canada has a Navy but they're based on the coasts so I thought it would be irrelevant to include them here)

Canada:

Ground Force:
Main Battle Tanks- 57 Leopard MBT
Infantry fighting vehicles- 150
Armoured Personnel Carriers- 500
Total active troops- 31,850

Air Force:
52 McDonnell-Douglas CF-18 Hornet tactical fighter bombers
9 Lockheed CP-140 Aurora/3 CP-140A Arcturus long-range patrol aircraft
14 Sikorsky CH-124 Sea King maritime helicopters
7 AgustaWestland CH-149 Cormorant search and rescue helicopters
43 Bell CH-146 Griffon tactical transport helicopters
16 Lockheed C-130 Hercules combat transports
2 Airbus CC-150 Polaris long range transports
3 de Havilland Canada CC-115 Buffalo short range transports
3 Canadair CC-144 Challenger jet transports (4 VIP/2 utility)
2 de Havilland Canada CC-138 Twin Otter short range transports
7 Canadair CT-114 Tutor jet trainers
12 Raytheon CT-156 Harvard II trainers (leased)
10 BAE CT-155 Hawk jet trainers (leased)
2 de Havilland Canada CT-142 Dash 8 navigation trainers
3 SAGEM CU-161 Sperwer Drone/UAV
14 Sikorsky CH-148 Cyclone

Quebec:

Ground Force:
Main Battle Tanks- 57 Leopard MBT
Infantry fighting vehicles- 150
Armoured Personnel Carriers- 500
Total active troops- 31,850

Air Force:
53 McDonnell-Douglas CF-18 Hornet tactical fighter bombers
9 Lockheed CP-140 Aurora/3 CP-140A Arcturus long-range patrol aircraft
14 Sikorsky CH-124 Sea King maritime helicopters
8 AgustaWestland CH-149 Cormorant search and rescue helicopters
43 Bell CH-146 Griffon tactical transport helicopters
16 Lockheed C-130 Hercules combat transports
3 Airbus CC-150 Polaris long range transports
3 de Havilland Canada CC-115 Buffalo short range transports
3 Canadair CC-144 Challenger jet transports (4 VIP/2 utility)
2 de Havilland Canada CC-138 Twin Otter short range transports
8 Canadair CT-114 Tutor jet trainers
12 Raytheon CT-156 Harvard II trainers (leased)
11 BAE CT-155 Hawk jet trainers (leased)
2 de Havilland Canada CT-142 Dash 8 navigation trainers
3 SAGEM CU-161 Sperwer Drone/UAV
14 Sikorsky CH-148 Cyclone

December 10

"Are we ready?"
"Yes we are. Let's go."

For days, Montreal's 12e Régiment blindé du Canada, or "12 RBC" as they were more commonly called, was stationed in Notre Dame du-Nord, some 16.5 miles from New Liskeard, the closest urban centre in Ontario to Quebec. They knew for a while that an invasion of Ontario was in the works but the wait for these Quebecois soldiers itching for action was agonizing still.

At that time, 3:45AM, the order was given for the invasion. The idea was for the regiment- with the Quebec Army in tow- to pass through New Liskeard down Yonge Street all the way to North Bay. A battalion- with 17 tanks- would be stationed there to block off the anticipated counter-attack from the West, which would be coming from Highway 17, which converges on Yonge in North Bay. Without any bases nearby, the Quebecois did not anticipate a quick response, and with any luck they'd be able to get to Barrie by noon before the forces at CFB Borden knew what hit them. Besides, the Canadians were still dealing with the fallout from the Toronto subway attack- they were demoralized enough as it is, and this would be the knockout blow.

Toronto

For the past two days, Duceppe hadn't been getting any sleep. The "Subway Mist Incident"- as the attack became known because sarin was sprayed in the attack- had been giving the Consul fits, because the police were nowhere near any leads for the ringleaders of the operation. Worse, Duceppe had called the Quebec government for help, and while they said they would assist him, he knew in the back of his mind they were behind the attack.

He was up still, at 3AM lying awake in bed trying to relax himself to sleep. For about 45 minutes he just lied there, but at 3:50 he finally managed to get to sleep. Five minutes later he was in for the rudest awakening of his life.

"WHAT!" As soon as the phone rang Duceppe picked up the phone, and his scream woke up his wife. It was Q. Cornelius Sullus, the Legate of the soon to be formed Canadian Legions. Sullus had just informed him that he'd been invaded by Quebec, as his radars detected a border crossing right at New Liskeard.

Why now. I don't need this. "I can't believe this. Thank you Legate. I'm right on it." Duceppe then hung up the phone and called Colonel Stewart E. Moore (http://www.borden.forces.gc.ca/cfb_borden/english/biographies/commander_e.asp), the Commander of Canadian Forces Base Borden, the closest Armed Forces base he had. "Colonel, we've just been invaded. Get your troops to Yonge Street as quickly as you can to head off the invasion."

"What happened?" asked Duceppe's wife, Yolande Brunelle, still groggy after having her sleep disturbed.
"Quebec has invaded us. I knew it. This whole FLQ thing was a setup." With that, Duceppe got up and changed.
"Where are you going?"
"Borden. They need me there. You'll be safe here- the Praetorian Guard will protect you and the kids."
"You'll be back right?"
"In time for dinner." Duceppe smiled. He knew that the Canadian Army was an unproven unit on the field, but he now had a resolve, one that he never felt before. Not only had Quebec rejected him, they had openly defied him. He was no longer a Quebecer looking to get back at his country- he was now a Canadian who had to defend his homeland.

The Emperor was looking over his dispatch for the morning. Things had progressively gotten worse. Overnight, the Quebecois invaded Ontario with their military forces and from initial reports, they were making progress. This was not good. An emergency meeting called for 0500 at the Emperor's castle spoke about possible responses. So far, the Quebecois had not moved over the border into the Empire but they were threatening to do that, it was evident that they wanted to move southward and eliminate the threat from the Empire. MLRS and artillery units stationed along the border would be the first to respond as well as Air Force elements and the Emperor knew this. He had to make sure that the military was keeping their morale up and keeping it up high.

"Gentlemen, I thank you for meeting me at this ungodly hour." The Emperor said to chuckles. "As you are aware, the Quebecois have invaded Ontario. From initial estimates it appears that they have caught the Roman Army offguard. They may just succeed in taking Toronto. If that happens they will be in a good position to launch a strike against New York. I doubt they'll succeed but they can take out a good amount of lives while they attempt this. The main question is what is our response? I understand we have battle plans drawn up and ready?"

"They are sir."

"Very good. Can they handle this change in situation?"

"They can sir."

"Very well. What shall be our response?"

"Well sir. The Jay Incident. We could leak that and make that public for justification for this attack. Secondly, we can say we are helping out our Roman neighbors."

"Very well. Perhaps we should get the opinion of the Roman government first? Please have a response for me as soon as possible. Now with that in mind. I do believe we need up to date reconnaissance."

"Yes sir. We have satellites doing that at the moment. We have a pair of SR-71 flights scheduled in eight hours and we have a U-2 returning in twenty-eight minutes. We are going to have a full listing of their military forces and up-to-date information concerning their advance."

"This is good news. We shall adjorn. Leak the Jay Incident story."

"Yes sir." Within an hour, every news station was talking about a horrific incident in Jay, Vermont that saw the death of 384 of 426 people, all of them civilians. They were killed by VX gas, an attack perpetrated by Quebecois Special Forces and RLA terrorists. The body count since October 10 was unofficially almost 1,300 and over 1,100 offically. Two months and 1,300 dead was not good, especially since many of them were from terrorist actions. Even, at that, many others were killed by the military themselves. Things were definitely spiralling out of control. Whatever came of Quebec would determine quite a lot.

North Bay, Ontario

It took the Quebecois two and a half hours to get from New Liskeard to North Bay. They rightly predicted that the Ontarians at Borden wouldn't respond in time, so the drive down featured no resistence at all. Some of the tanks even had some fun blasting the trucks and anything else out of their way.

Once they hit North Bay, they met the Ontarians, as they predicted. They met at the first convergence of Highway 11 (Yonge Street) and Highway 17 proceeding northward into the city. Highway 17 went east-west, while Highway 11 went north. This was the point where the two highways were twinned, and it was at this particular intersection- in the middle of a field just outside the city- where they would branch off. Heading east along the 17- as the Quebecois were doing- you arrived at a traffic light and are faced with two options: go straight along Highway 11 and the road curves southward below an overpass, after which Highway 11 becomes a four-lane, divided highway. Turn left to go along Highway 17, which then curves eastward over top of Highway 11.

Since the Quebecois arrived at the scene first, they held the advantage. They immediately split up half of their tank corps (20 each- 17 were left at the other divergence point towards the west) to cover both entry points into North Bay- one half sat atop the bridge, firing salvo after salvo at the oncoming Ontario tanks, while the other guarded the actual intersection before the roads branched off.

The Ontarians didn't stand a chance. For the Quebecois, it was like shooting fish in a barrel, as one after one the Ontarian tanks and vehicles were picked off, seemingly glued to the road. A few of them did think of going offroad, but these were easily spotted and taken care of. By the end of the day, the Ontarians had lost nearly everything, and whatever wasn't lost was too damaged to use again. The Quebecois hardly lost anything.

News of the defeat spread rapidly. The Quebecois had smashed the Ontarians in their own backyard, and were making speedy progress. By sundown, many feared, Toronto would be in Quebecois hands. Duceppe now had to scramble, because not only was his job at stake, but so was his life.

"Sir. North Bay has fallen. The Ontarians are in for a ride." One of the aides of the Emperor said as he delivered the news to the Cabinet meeting. "Sir there has been no response from the Roman Empire."

"Very well. General. How are we?"

"The military is fully ready to go but we cannot cross into Canada without the permission of the Roman government. If we do, we risk alienating them from our goal."

"Is Quebec still obtainable?"

"More than ever sir. Whatever equipment they have left following their success or failure in Ontario will not be well maintained. They'll be low on parts and morale. It is doubtful we have to actually use any of our stealth aircraft to defeat them though I still advocate using the Ghostrider, Knightowl, and Firefox to lead the strikes sir."

"Very well. Make sure the airbases are ready and willing. F-19s will have to go in and take out the most dangerous targets first, escorted by F-24s. Firefoxes will be flying SEAD, strike, and CAP as well. It is a shame we can't use the navy much but we have a battlegroup sitting off the coast, just ready and waiting."

"Understood. Well then, back to this matter at hand. What is this 'compound' like?"

OOC: Cascadia= mainland British Columbia (minus Vancouver), Washington and Oregon.

Duceppe braced himself when he turned on the news. No matter where he went- the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, Global Television, even the US' Cable News Network (CNN)- he was chastised for the Ontarians' poor performance. "It's quite clear that Duceppe allowed the Quebecois to come," said well-known CBC commentator Rex Murphy. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rex Murphy) "I mean, why else would the Quebecois invade so quickly?" Hockey commentator Don Cherry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don_Cherry_%28hockey%29), known for his racist remarks against French-Canadians, was even worse. "Duceppe is showing us that the only frogs we should have is on our plates."

He knew what he had to do. He called Sullus, informing him that the Romans were needed. "We need your help," said Duceppe, "The Ontarian Army just got obliterated outside of North Bay and they're making headway on Toronto. The longer we wait, the worse off we will be."

"OK. Go through the woods," said Sullus. Duceppe recognized the codewords. The Romans would be landing at Meaford, Ontario, where the Canadian military had a tank range. He took a military helicopter to Meaford, where he met with Roman military officials. Within an hour, the 5th Cascadian Legion would be flown in from northern Cascadia and would start its assault to cut off the Quebecois from its advance to Toronto. Duceppe then went on the news, live from Meaford, to reassure Canada that he had everything under control.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/duceppe-02.jpg
Duceppe speaking at the base in Meaford

"My fellow Canadians, I know you are upset by what happened in North Bay. It was a regrettable situation and I am deeply sorry that we were not up there sooner.

"Since North Bay has fallen, I have gotten in contact with the Roman officials in Cascadia, and they have pledged their full support for Canada and have promised to reinforce our troops. What the Quebecois have done is despicable and uncalled for, and exposes them for the barbarians they are. They may have taken North Bay, but they will not take our hearts. Vive le Canada!"

Duceppe said that last part with such a vigour and conviction that no one dared to doubt his nationality anymore. This former Quebecois separatist was a full-blown Canadian, and one the rest of Canada now started to trust.

"Sir. We have an analysis of the Duceppe speech."

"Very well. What have we got?"

"Well Mr. Emperor, sir." The intern was newand very nervous. "It is obvious that the Ontario army was annihilated in North Bay and that the Quebecois are moving towards Toronto. It is evident now that the Romans will get fully involved. To what effect we do not know yet. Signals intelligence is currently deciphering intercepted communiques but it could take hours. Cryptography is definitely a lengthy process."

"This much I know. What is our stance?"

"Sir?"

"I am asking you of your opinion." The intern was flabergasted. He was lucky to recieve this internship but he didn't know what next. He never thought the Emperor would ask his advice!

"Sir. Well. I think we should wait. If we invade Quebec while the Romans are handling the situation they might not be too happy and we will certainly not garner any worldwide support."

"See I told you the boy could think." He smiled. "Very good. That'll be all."

"Yes sir." He left with a smile, having impressed the Emperor.

The Emperor buzzed his secretary and she answered quickly, despite being on the phone with her husband. "Yes sir?"

"Fire all of our interns except for Jason."

"Sir?"

"They can't think for themselves."

"Understood sir."

"Thank you. Tell Bob I said 'Hello'?"

"Yes sir." She went back to her phone call.

"Alright now that we have gotten rid of the yes-men." They smirked. "What are we going to do? Take the boys advice?"

"Sir, it's probably the best thing we can do. The men on the front won't like this, keeping them in waiting, but it is the best we can do."

"Very well."

OOC: Can I ask how good is the Leopard MBT, at least in comparison to the Abrams?

Encrypted Message to the Imperial Layartebian Government
-Encryption MAX-

I understand that your government is worried about the situation developing in Ontario, and believe me we are too. The Quebecois unexpectedly attacked us and displayed a sophistication we did not anticipate. I would have sent this to you earlier but the speed of the invasion caught us off guard.

Still, we are not worried about the invasion, because I believe we are doing the best we can. We would like to reassure you that we have everything under control and that you do not need to worry about anything. However, the Republic of Canada asks for your moral support and co-operation in this matter, and hopes that, if we need it, you will help us out. The Quebecois are a major threat to both of us and it is imperative that we work together to get rid of them.

Let us hope this will be the start of a positive relationship between our two great lands.

Gilles Duceppe,
1st Consul of Canada
Dated December 10, 2005

OOC: Here is what I got:

Leopard C1 (Leopard 1A3)

Designed in the early 1970s, entered Canadian service in 1978. The M1 is definitely going to be superior in terms of armor, main gun, and all around specs. The M1 is just newer. The C1 carries a 105MM gun, which was used on the original M1. The M1A1 incorporated the better 120MM gun and so on upwards. The Leopard C1 could probably hold its own in a fight but it wouldn't last very long.

Leopard C1 (Leopard 1A5)

Designed in the 1980s and delivered in 1987. It incorporates a 120MM gun, which makes it far superior to the C1. It has a new turret, new fire control system, more ammunition, and more space over the 1A3. It could probably hold its own against the original M1s and maybe against the M1A1s but the M1A2 and the SEP Abrams' would probably knock it out because of the superior range of the armament of the M1 later models. It would definitely hold out better than the C1 and would be a hard kill, especially since it could use newer SABOT ammunition that makes the M1 so deadly.

Encrypted Message to the Republic of Canada
-Encryption MAX-

The Empire will oblige by the requests of the Republic of Canada and lend its moral support and cooperation at this time. We will not open another front against the Quebecois nor shall we intervene at this present time. We wish the Canadians the best of luck in repelling these vile creatures that wish to institute their rule over the remainder of Canada, Ontario primarily. The Quebecois are indeed a threat and the Empire shall work with the Republic of Canada in defeating these creatures.

The Emperor
Dated 10 December 2005

White dust settled over the town of Amherst, New York. It was close to the border with Canada and filled with about six thousand military infantry and associated cavalry units. They had a small field converted into a helicopter base, which based six UH-60M Black Hawks and four AH-94A Stalkers. The town was slated to recieve 3" - 6" of snow over the course of the night, something that wasn't helping the situation at all, especially not the morale. The soldiers weren't ready to go home yet, on the contrary they were quite happy except they were getting sick of waiting. They wanted to get it over and done with and as fast as possible. They knew the capabilities that they had, which would turn the Quebecois into fine dust. The Leopard C2, the best MBT in the Quebecois forces, was no match for the Emperor MBTs, which were capable of firing bigger, faster, and more powerful projectiles further distances and with more force. The anti-tank missiles of the Emperors alone would liquefy the Leopards before they even got in range.

The battle plan called for a helicopter and aerial assault first, which would be striking ground forces, air forces, command and control, and just about everything else that would enable the Quebecois to wage war. Within ninety-six hours, the Quebecois wouldn't have much left to wage war against criminals, much less the Empire. Within a week, they wouldn't have anything left to stand on, especially after the Ghostriders got done with their missions.

However, Amherst wasn't just a staging point for the military. A team of Illuminati mercenaries, sixteen of them, heavily armed and well-equipped were also staging inside the city. They were only a half mile from the actual army base camp, strategically placed on purpose. With the declining weather situation, they knew that they had to act soon. Every day at 1900, army personnel choppered in an intelligence report. The report was delivered by UH-96 Panther, flown by a very skilled and adept pilot. Unfortunately, though, since he was over friendly airspace, he had no reason to run any jamming systems or fly a separate flight plan.

From their "rented" house, the sixteen mercenaries put the final parts in place on a Wizard MANPAD launcher that they had stolen from a supply convoy. Unfortunately, they only got some of it in the first raid and in the second they managed to get more. Another attack was definitely going to see them getting caught. They had to work with what they had, which did not include the laser guidance designator. They would have to shoot as if it were a Stinger, just aiming, locking, and firing. The missile was still extremely capable and without the laser guidance designator, it could still lock onto the target and down it, they weren't over enemy territory, per say, where infrared jamming systems were active on helicopters.

They would use a small balcony built onto the second floor of the house to launch the missile, which, thanks to the ingeniousness of the Layartebian Defense Corporation, was a smokeless missile. It would leave very little trail behind it as it sped skyward, locking onto the target, devestating it. The group leader, a long-time soldier of fortune, climbed out onto the balcony and shouldered the system. He unlocked the safety and the growl of the missile was low. The helicopter came into view and he sighted the helicopter, flying towards him at about 120 knots and 4,000 feet. He smiled and waited for the growl to become high-pitched. The Wizard was locked on and he knew it. "Firing!" He spoke softly as he squeezed the trigger. The missile sped skyward and immediately, without a second thought, the group leader was inside the house, hiding the missile launcher. The imaging infrared of the missile locked onto the helicopter immediately and held that lock. The missile was agile and powerful and it exploded its 10 pound blast fragmentation warhead right towards the engine nacelle of the Panther. The fragments shattered and twisted the engine nacelle apart, causing the helicopter to immediately lose lifting power, venting and belching black smoke. Struggling, the pilot tried to gain control as the engine failed, sending the helicopter into a nose dive. It crashed only six hundred meters away from the house, landing inside a wooded area.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/helicopter-down.jpg

As the emergency personnel responded the Illuminati mercenaries packed up their gear. They would use the confusion of the helicopter crash to escape over the border into Ontario via boat. They were highly trained and had this all planned and mapped out, a smart move. As they left the house, the Illuminati warriors vanished into the snowy night.

OOC: Cool! Amherst got into this! I know I may be nuts for liking Buffalo, but still (oh, and the Sabres won tonight so there...)

Thanks for the info on the Leopard...I wanted to RP the battle right.

On more official business, is there a picture of an Abrams landing in snow, or at a base in winter? I can't find a picture anywhere of that.

Equite=Abrams

Meaford

Duceppe had read about the Roman military in books and in the news, but he'd never seen it in person. Minutes after he finished his message to the Layartebians, the first of the Roman Equites landed at the base, and while no ceremony was made out of it, the aura of their landing remained all the same.

Wow. Such a majestic army. I'm proud to have them on my side. Overall, the Roman equipment was in much better shape than what Duceppe initially had to work with- it was a state-of-the-art Army, and while Canada had a very professional soldier rank, its faulty equipment left a lot to be desired. Canada will be glorious under Rome. Finally, we will be more than just an afterthought. He smiled, but it faded quickly once he remembered that he had a job to do, and that was to stop the Quebecois assualt. As the last Roman aircraft unloaded, he spoke to the gathered Roman Legion.

"As you know Quebec has invaded us and has just annihilated our previous force sent to stop them," said Duceppe. "They are moving quickly and thus we must too. Our last intel tells us that the Quebecois are at Bracebridge and are making their way to Toronto, which we predict they will reach in two and a half hours. It is prudent that you move quickly. Now go and make Canada proud."

With that, the Roman Legion departed. What would be next would be a battle for the ages...

OOC: I can't find anything either. I would think that they might have some pictures from when they were deployed in Germany in the '80s but I guess not.

The Romans had arrived and lucky for the Canadians they did. The Illuminati group made it across the border and were inside Ontario, moving northward to help the Quebecois flank the Ontarian army. They were out of communication though and they weren't going to be aware of the Roman landing but they were definitely going to be in for a surprise. They were ready though, each of them carrying two M34 SLATDW rockets, which could pierce through the armor of the known Equite tanks of the Roman Army. The SLATDW overcame their targets with sheer kinetic energy, coupled with a HEAT warhead. It was deadly, worse for a tank than the RPG-7, which would always be effective.

The helicopter crash site was pure wreckage. The documents were unrecoverable and none of the four men onboard survived the explosion, if they even survived the impact. An autopsy wouldn't need to be performed, it was evident what had happened, the helicopter had gone down and exploded. Analyzing the wreckage would, however, reveal the impact of a missile, which would make everything more tense than it was, especially since they would be pegged on RLA terrorists. The RLA's last days were at hand now!

.:. Bumpzor .:.

OOC: Here is some pics you might use, took me two seconds to find

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122pic.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122-snow.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122snow.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122pic2.jpg

and here is a site there i got them all from has some other cool pics of Abrams:

http://forums.filefront.com/showthread.php?p=1939467#post1939467

OOC: Here is some pics you might use, took me two seconds to find

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122pic.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122-snow.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122snow.jpg

http://forums.filefront.com/gallery/users/5/6/2/6/9/strv122pic2.jpg

and here is a site there i got them all from has some other cool pics of Abrams:

http://forums.filefront.com/showthread.php?p=1939467#post1939467

That's not the Abrams. It's the Strv122, a variant of the Leopard 2A5 (Leopard 2(S)) for Sweden.

That's not the Abrams. It's the Strv122, a variant of the Leopard 2A5 (Leopard 2(S)) for Sweden.

I suppose we can use them...unless the Abrams looks radically different.

(NOTE- IC post coming this weekend, I promise. By the way, does your storefront sell anything better than the Abrams, at least armour-wise?)

I suppose we can use them...unless the Abrams looks radically different.

(NOTE- IC post coming this weekend, I promise. By the way, does your storefront sell anything better than the Abrams, at least armour-wise?)

OOC: I can sell anything that is necessary if you want. You could use them, the one that looks like a far rear shot is probably the best. The closer shots are definitely different.

OOC: I can sell anything that is necessary if you want.

OOC: I want tank upgrades...especially in armour. Won't be able to use them in Alliston, but I'm looking around E2 and I'm thinking my stuff's already outdated.

OOC: I want tank upgrades...especially in armour. Won't be able to use them in Alliston, but I'm looking around E2 and I'm thinking my stuff's already outdated.

OOC: I can do it if you need it. Just let me know what you want.

OOC: I can do it if you need it. Just let me know what you want.

OOC: I need some suggestions...I don't know the product names. I'm mostly interested in having tanks with better armour, and better armament if I can get that too, but mostly better armour.

OOC: I need some suggestions...I don't know the product names. I'm mostly interested in having tanks with better armour, and better armament if I can get that too, but mostly better armour.

OOC: You could use the most advanced versions of the Leopards and the Abrams and just add on better armor and such. Hell, even the Merkavas are excellent.

OOC: You could use the most advanced versions of the Leopards and the Abrams and just add on better armor and such. Hell, even the Merkavas are excellent.

OOC: My Abrams are supposed to be the most advanced...you don't sell armour though. You know where I can go to look up armouring a tank?

OOC: My Abrams are supposed to be the most advanced...you don't sell armour though. You know where I can go to look up armouring a tank?

OOC: http://members.tripod.com/collinsj/protect.htm

I can sell armor upgrades.

That's not the Abrams. It's the Strv122, a variant of the Leopard 2A5 (Leopard 2(S)) for Sweden.

OOC: Oh yeah right, i thought there was something wrong, the turret was different.

Rome, a suggestion, if you want a good NS tank don't look at RL values. Every NS designer from someone good like SB and Mac to someone not so good like MassPwnage pumps up their armor values beyond any RL equivalent with things like MEXAS, Dynamic ERA and so on and so forth. You want something like: 2000 mm or less vs. CE and a little over 1000 mm vs. KE.

Use some MEXAS layering, and some Electronic Reactive Armor and you'll be alright. Also don't forget very helpful systems like Arena and Shtora-1, no need to use those names but 99% of good NS tanks use something similar or better that furfills the same function that is stopping the projectile before it has a chance to interact with your armor

OOC:

Layarteb: Sell me some upgrades. :)

Pushka: Thanks- I'll look into it. Don't the latest Abrams have ERA anyway?

OOC:

Layarteb: Sell me some upgrades. :)

Pushka: Thanks- I'll look into it. Don't the latest Abrams have ERA anyway?

OOC: The Abrams can be fitted with ERA. Pretty much all tanks can be fitted with ERA. They just rarely use it because ERA means no troops on the side. They'd be killed in the process. ERA is for tank vs. tank battles where there won't be any runners or any close combat ops.

OOC: No ERA doesn't necessarily mean no troops on the side. With light ERA yes, but with Heavy 2nd Generation ERA like Kontakt-5 or Kaktus the explosion is contained by the ERA block which stays on the armor even after its used so troops are safe to travel along side your tank.

OOC: No ERA doesn't necessarily mean no troops on the side. With light ERA yes, but with Heavy 2nd Generation ERA like Kontakt-5 or Kaktus the explosion is contained by the ERA block which stays on the armor even after its used so troops are safe to travel along side your tank.

OOC: Yes forgot about that stuff.

The Illuminati were inside Ontario within hours and they were moving northward, towards the front lines. Their goal was to link up with the advancing Quebecois army and assist them. They were out of radio communication, unfortunately, so they could not radio ahead and find out their orders ahead of time. They were required to meet up with the commander of the advancing army before they could undertake their own mission. They would be independent after that linkage.

On the outskirts of Toronto it was quiet. The war raged north and that meant one thing for Toronto, hiding for safety. There was no doubt that militia groups and guardsmen would be inside the city and would resist the Quebecois once they arrived but the only advantage they had was that it was their ground, that's about it, not enough to stop a fully advancing army. The sixteen Illuminati soldiers made their way through the outskirts to a used car lot, the perfect place for them to secure their mode of transportation. They needed something heavy and something spacious, they had a lot of gear and they had a lot of people. They needed something like a large SUV, perhaps a Suburban. Unfortunately, for them, the lot only had two Suburbans. They would have to squeeze in, eight per vehicle, using the storage space behind the third row seat to load in their gear.

They knew that the Quebecois army was set to roll through Alliston before moving southward through Toronto so they hoped that they could meet up with them there. "You two. Get the keys." The commander said to two of his men. They nodded and went to break into the dealership, looking for the keys for the vehicles. They didn't need to be driving around with hotwired vehicles, especially if they were stopped. They needed to look as legitimate as possible. While they did, the commander looked around. The sky was fierce with an up and coming snowstorm, probably a blizzard. They didn't want to deal with that but they had to be prepared. "Alright, scower around and see what supplies you can get. We leave in twenty." The remaining thirteen men vanished throughout the car lot and across the street as well. The commander was left alone, which was his goal. He drew out his cell phone and punched in some numbers he had memorized. He would erase them from the phone after he made the call. "Sir. This is Ryan. We are securing rations and transportation now."

"Very well. What of the ingress?"

"Sir. The helicopter was downed as you requested. All weaponry was taken with us. The house was sanitized before we left."

"Very good. ETA on Alliston?"

"We're about 90 kilometers away. Expect ETA in an hour, at most."

"Very well. Report in upon arrival. They know you are coming."

"Roger that sir. Foxtrot out." The group went by the codename Foxtrot but their real group name was Task Force Gray Fox. Foxtrot came from the "Fox" in their unit name. Within a half hour, they were on the road and within an hour, they were in Alliston. It was quiet, braced for an actual fight. It seemed that the Ontarians were staking everything on Alliston, rather than Toronto, which though it had been geared for an assault, it wasn't ready for a full assault but rather a weakened one. Something was going on, something that they knew the Quebecois weren't aware of, something that could prevent them from marching into Toronto. They had to radio ahead but they couldn't, they had no means to and making a cellular call to the overall commander at a non-designated point would not be answered for fear of capture. They were a force alone, unto themselves. "Okay. We're splitting up. Blue team and Red team. Move accordingly. We'll find cover in those buildings over there. Red team, try to go on the other side of the street. Stay low and hidden and make sure you report in with your position so that we know where you are. We're in unfriendly territory here and something is going to happen, something that we don't want to have succeede."

"Roger that sir." Within minutes, both teams were inside their respective buildings, looking to take up cover.

OOC: I must ask that we please limit the amount of OOC chatter here. Thank you.

OOC: Alliston has no high-rises. Your best bet is to hide atop the buildings or in houses, but there's no high-rises to hide in. You'll also be arriving just as I arrive there.

I'm going to cover the Battle in two posts. Draw it out a little. I also have to get going so I can't finish it now.

Aquila=F-16

A little tidbit for you- the discoverer of insulin, Sir Fredrick Banting, is from Alliston. That's where the high school got its name.

The Battle of Alliston

The Romans were hedging their bets that by cutting off the Quebecois at Alliston it would be good enough to prevent a further attack on Toronto. Part of their plan may have been overconfidence, but Quebec's quick attack- and Ontario's lack of internal defences- meant that the Romans had little else available.

The Romans entered Alliston from the north, via Simcoe Road 15, or King Street as the Allistoners called it. It left them on the central-west part of town, away from the Quebecois who were advancing from the east via Highway 89, or Victoria Street in Alliston. The Legion itself split into three groups in the hopes that once Rome engaged Quebec it would be able to encircle the Army via the back roads.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/strv122_and_cv_90.jpg
The Roman Army entering Alliston
http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/strv122pic2.jpg
The Quebecois Army on the outskirts of Alliston

Eventually, the two armies met up at the intersection of Dominion Street and Victoria, right by a United Church, an open lot, a small convenience store and a Giant Tiger department store, where the RLA were hiding overhead. Behind the scene was a residential neighbourhood featuring many old houses, with a railroad a little further up. Rome had hoped to cut off the Quebecois further down the road, by Banting Memorial High School, so that they could use the railroad for supplies. However, Sullus thought to himself that having the railroad behind them could be a blessing in disguise.

As Rome entered the intersection, a loud "BANG" could be heard from the left side of the Equite. It was the RLA. A rocket pierced the side of the tank, obliterating it and killing everyone onboard. Sullus knew what he had to do- he called the Avis.

"Get me a contubernium of Aquilae. Immediately." ordered Sullus. He had to clear out the RLA members before it was too late.

OOC: Hosted the pictures. Kept the filenames as usual and use this root [http://www.theforsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/]

Small Arms Weaponry Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=385111)

The rocket streaked down into the tank. It was a well placed shot and that meant the end for that tank. Unfortunately, they had been seen. Quickly, they fired off two more rockets and began to move out. They knew that they had engaged too early, a poor mistake but a decent one, at that, especially since they knew they took out a tank and their SLATDWs would take out whatever else they had hit. Dropping the empty SLATDW launchers, the soldiers bolted out of their buildings, heading off to the rear, their weapons drawn. They had, amongst themselves, eight M73A2 Enhanced Carbines, two M55A1 Automatic Shotguns, two M42A1 Squad Automatic Rifles, two M35A1 Light Machine Guns, one M41A1 Sniper Rifle, and one M36A1 Sniper Rifle for their primary weaponry, eight M33A2 Pistols, three M33A7 Pistols, three M56 P99 Pistols, and two M46A2 Desert Eagles for pistols, and a ton of grenades, explosives, the SLATDWs, and other assorted tools and weaponry. They carried a lot of ammunition and they would need it. Rifles and pistols drawn, the sixteen men exited the rears of the buildings, keeping their eyes everywhere. They were going to move twenty meters and sixteen meters into two more buildings, small apartment buildings, and hide out there, for now. They definitely weren't going to be engaging unless they had to, this is why they had suppressors fitted to their weapons.

Whether or not the Roman soldiers would come around was a risk they didn't know for certainty but they were definitely not going to be caught by surprise. The Illuminati Gray Fox were just sixteen of almost two hundred elite, highly trained, well paid, and well armed soldiers within the Illuminati. They were comparable to the SOF of the Imperial Layartebian Military, which were, in most cases, on the same level of the most elite of the elite inside foreign countries. The BOF of the ILM were something to reckon with, more so than most operatives of most countries. If the ILM were to be put on a scale, the lowest group, the national guard, would recieve the same amount of training as most regular armies do. This would put the BOF well above the BOF of any other country. At the top of that list was Force Falcon, Team One being the elite of the elite of the elite, throughout the world. There wasn't anywhere they couldn't go. Nobody knew their identity, they had multiple passports and were careful never to be caught with different ones by different people. They maintained such a large logistical base that they would never be out of contact nor out of supplies for more than would be necessary.

The Emperor had already made preparations to move Team One into the fray. Their last mission had involved the assassination of the Pelepian President, which was never pinned on anyone within the Empire. Well rested and in high morale, the eight men of team one would cross into Canada within the hour, diguised as photographers from the NGO "True Reporters." The NGO, based in Layarteb City, sent combat photographers throughout the world and often, despite being opposed to the idea, sent Black Ops across borders under their own organization. They were usually opposed to the idea but what other choice did they have, you did not tell the Emperor "No" when it came to national security unless there was a damned good reason.

As the Battle of Alliston began in its cozy corner of Ontario, the Joint Chiefs, Cabinet, and the Emperor met. They were holding off on attacking and they were stuggling against the will of time. With the entrance of Force Falcon Team One across the border and the presence of four SOF teams within Quebec it was a done deal. Those four teams consisted of a total of thirty-two men. They were from four units, the 1st SOF "Delta Force," 2nd SOF "SEALs," 3rd SOF "Recon Force," and 5th SOF "Green Berets." The role of the SEALs and Recon were to scout out targets ahead of the assault, as well as to provide target coordination and direction for artillery, fighters, and helicopters. The Green Berets would link up with resistance movements within Quebec and try to make that resistance grow, favoring the Empire further. The job of Delta, on the other hand, was to locate and destroy any possible theater missile systems and high value VIPs.

These four groups were to be augmented by another sixty-four once the go-ahead for the assault came from the Emperor, which would come from the Roman Empire. Until then, just the thirty-two SOFs and the eight BOFs would have to do the task. Force Falcon, had the most insightful task, which was more or less a double task. They recieved the report of a possible RLA team inside the theater of operations, fighting for the Quebecois. They were to find, interrogate, and eliminate them. Their second task was to find and capture the leader of the Quebecois, Andre Boisclair and bring him back to the Empire. Whether or not they would get the chance was unknown. It was a secondary objective, which would definitely help if it were completed but the Emperor knew that the Romans wanted him worse and they were very good at capturing who they had to, when they had to, and without much difficulty. The primary was finding that RLA team and getting them. Information was sought from the RLA and that would be their best hope.

Gray Fox moved sleekly into the next building, forced to shoot two soldiers as they did, probably on patrol. It was unfortunate but they had to do it and they thought nothing of squeezing the trigger. Three shots were fired at each soldier, putting them both down on the ground before they could react. Gray Fox was making some headway but time would tell.

The assault by the Quebecois was less than two days old. The Roman and Ontarian army had clashed at Alliston and information was still pending. Force Falcon had been deployed and were moving and looking for both Gray Fox and the Boisclair, though he was a far lesser target than Gray Fox was. They were moving towards Alliston when the battle began and though they were less than an hour out, they were still in a very advantageous position.

COL. Delaney and his men, like Gray Fox, had managed to steal a pair of Suburbans and were moving comfortably in them. They planned to use them to transport Gray Fox to the extraction site, which was eight miles outside of Alliston. The extraction was going to be something of much importance. A pair of MV-24B Bulldog transports would be used to extract all eight men of Team One as well as a hoped sixteen men of Gray Fox. That was enough to put everyone into a single Bulldog but they were goin to split it up to be safe. F-16E Falcon Block 60 fighters would provide cover against aircraft, each plane armed with four AIM-120D AMRAAM missiles and two AIM-204A Escape missiles. Another pair of A-10C Thunderbolt II attack aircraft would take care of any ground threats, which could include tanks, air defense units, and the like. Each of them carried four AIM-204A Escape missiles, four AGM-65G Maverick missiles, four CRV7 19-round, rocket pods, and eight CBU-103 WCMD CEM cluster bombs.

However, that extract wasn't for some time now. The extraction wouldn't happen until Team One was ready and that wouldn't be until Gray Fox was under their control.

OOC: I had intended on the battle lasting just a day because Rome would probably annihilate the Quebecois- I was just super busy so I didn't have the opportunity to post until now. I'll extend it for the sake of the RP.

Also, the closest town to Alliston from the south is Loretto, along Highway 50 and Simcoe Road 1. There's nothing within eight miles of Alliston.

The RLA's attacks sent shockwaves through the Roman Army- they'd taken out just three tanks, but for a Legion that didn't expect any losses, the result was a complete surprise. The Romans decided to pull back across the bridges on Church Street and King Street towards the hilly area to the north, pulling into Riverdale Park where they set up a base. A century drove south along King towards the Adjala-Tosorontio Townline, where a provisional base was set up to keep an eye on the Quebecois movement.

The Romans' objective now was to scout Alliston and find the RLA. Their scouting vehicles- 15 souped-up Fiat Panda 4x4's with four soldiers each- began driving around the outskirts of Alliston looking for clues to the RLA's whereabouts. One of the Pandas came across a truck parked behind Banting Memorial High School, by the cafeteria's back entrance on Nelson Street & East Avenue. As the team- code-named Fox and consisting of Wolf, Leopard, Falcon and Eagle- exited the 4x4, they noticed two soldiers lying dead by the south entrance of the school, with some blood still oozing from their systems. "Somebody's already here," said Wolf, Fox's leader. He then rifled through the pockets of the soldiers, discovering the identifiable fluer-de-lis in their pockets which had been taken off the soldiers' epaulets, presumably by the soldiers themselves. "Looks like it's back to school, boys."

The four of them walked quietly down the hallways of the school, which looked like they hadn't been cleaned for ages. Since it was a Saturday no kids were in school, making Banting eerily quiet. As they proceeded through the cafeteria, they walked along the hallway until they saw another dead soldier- who also turned out to be Quebecois- lying dead with more fresh blood than the last soldiers they had dealt with.

"This way, Fox," said Wolf slyly.

The team proceeded down the hall, which was Banting's dreaded technology wing, hoping to find their quarry. They'd find their quarry, but they'd also find a surprise.

OOC: I figure here our teams would meet up. Banting's the best place for covert RLA operations since it's Alliston's largest building and has the most resources.

"Quiet. Someone's coming." They whispered as the footsteps echoed on the vinyl commercial tile floor. The school was acoustically great. The hallways kept sound and transported it everywhere. The sound of footsteps could be heard from the other side of the building. "We got company." Ryan, the group leader announced. "Red team," he whispered into his radio. "Company in the building." Red Team immediately got alert and took up their positions. With their safeties off and their weapons shouldered they prepared to engage. They had to spread out quickly and quietly.

As the men looked out of their stationed rooms, they could see each and everyway in the hallway. They took up positions inside of doors, leaning ever so slightly around so that two men were put on a single door, both looking the same way, one crouched and one standing. A door back there were another two men, looking the other way. They were expert marksmen and had more trigger time on a shooting range than most soldiers. Using single fire they could place thirty rounds within a small, one inch wide Bulls-eye of a target at over 300 yards. The only soldiers that shot better were Special Operations Forces and Black Operations Forces.

Grenades weren't set nor were booby traps. They had not planned on any resistance coming into the building and they were definitely caught off guard. With their suppressors fitted, they were ready for whatever came their way. They stood or crouched in silence, both teams in constant communication with each other, live and in real time.

:: bump for RomeW ::

Fox proceeded gingerly down the hall, knowing they were closer to their prey. Wolf pulled out a bomb-tracking device as he was convinced that the lockers had to have been rigged- being this close to the RLA, he suspected something had to be up. "It can't be this easy, can it?"

Eagle- named so because of his vison- then pulled out his binoculars to scan. In the distance, he thought he could make out the ILM insignia on what appeared to be a blanket from far away, but upon closer inspection looked like a living arm. "Wolf," whispered Eagle, "I think the Layartebians are here."

"Proceed with caution," replied Wolf, "We don't know if those are real Layartebians or just the RLA in disguise."
"Do we engage?"
"Negative. We don't have a clear shot."

Fox then continued, crouched and getting closer to the lockers, but did not actually rub against them.

Upon finding the first available room, Fox quietly entered. Wolf then relayed another order. "Cover the entrance and watch for movements. I'm going to radio the base informing them to get in touch with the Layartebian Government to see if those soldiers are Layartebian, because we may have suspected RLA terrorists at Banting Memorial High School."

"Sir I think I see movement." One of the soldiers whispered. "Night vision up guys." He repeated and they all began to put on their night vision. Whatever was down the end of the hall wasn't there anymore and so they stood fast, where they were, weapons shoulded, leaning out of the doors, silent, quiet, and eerie. The halls were very green and the lack of actual lighting in the building made their goggles far more effective than they would be otherwise. They could see far, very far, which gave them an advantage over anyone without NVGs, which they hoped the enemy would not have. Their enemy was the Romans and Canadians, their allies the Quebecois. If Layarteb ever entered the war their enemy list would grow but for now, they were safe, or so they thought.

Further south, Colonel Delaney and his team managed to get to the outskirts of Alliston. Snow was falling throughout the area and that would surely make this uncomfortable. They were outfitted with their winter gear, which would enable them to camoflauge themselves in both snow and forest areas. They knew that they would be fighting in various different terrains, which could range from the streets of Alliston to the lush forests in and around the border areas.

Once at the outskirts, they stopped their vehicles and looked around. The "community" was home to just under 10,000 residents, a quiet, small place with buildings no bigger than the high school. Colonel Delaney read a small brief on the community as he pulled off to the side of the road.

The surrounding area is made up of farmlands to its east and the south along with the north and west. The forests lie to the northwest, the southwest, the south and to the east along with rolling hills. The town as two parks- Riverdale Park to the north along the Boyne River and PPG Park to the south, by the local fire department. Major residential areas are located to the north (as Previn Court Homes) and to the south, with additional residential and commercial developments made since then in the northwest (as "Alliston West"), north and southwest since the mid-1990s, with future developments expected in the future that could raise the population from 17,000 to 20,000. The urban area stretches from west to east , is nearly 3 km, and from north to south ranges from 300 m, 600 m to 1 km. Another residential area, adjacent to the Nottawasaga Inn are located 5 km east of Alliston- the first phase built is known as Green Briar; the second phase, to the west of the Inn is known as Briar Hill. The Nottawasaga River is situated east of the town; the Boyne River, which runs through Alliston, joins the Nottawasaga, just downstream from Nicolston Dam. The CP rail (Toronto - Parry Sound - Sudbury) runs to its east with a small freight yard for Honda vehicles.

"Alright listen up everyone," he said into his microphone. "If there is an RLA merc group they're somewhere in this town. We've got Roman and Canadian and Quebecoi militaries clashing in the outskirts of the city. We expect them to, as the day wears on and possibly even into tomorrow, who knows how long this battle will last, to move throughout the city, fighting fiercly. The Romans have made it evident that they are going to stop the Quebecoi advance here, in Alliston. This means that the merc group is here to help the Quebecois defeat the Romans. We have to find the buggers. Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"It's logical to think that they would be hiding within the city. They may be with the main Quebecoi army but I doubt it, they are a specialized group, most effective on their own, like us. We'll probably find them hiding out in the most remote parts of the city so we're going to ditch the vehicles and go on foot. We're staying close. DO NOT engage any hostiles or friendlies. Save your ammunition for the RLA merc group. Once we apprehend them, we call in the evac and we're out of here. We don't need to dawdle around over here any longer than we have to, understood?"

"Yes sir!"

"Very good. Let's get moving. This snow isn't going to make things easier and it'll probably just accumulate as time goes on. Fix night vision for use, safeties off, let's move out men." The eight men departed their vehicles, ignitions off, keys inside. They didn't need them anymore and they were just going to leave them, hoping drifters or refugees or someone else grabbed them. This meant less evidence for them to deal with, especially in a place they weren't supposed to be, but then again, that was the main mission for them. With their gear on, weapons ready, and NVGs prepared, they were ready to move out and search the city. They had no idea what they were talking into nor did they see it when it hit.

Gunshots echoed in the distance, muffled from the range the sound had to travel to get to them. Flashes as bright as lightning lit up the sky on the horizon and they were often followed by a loud "boom" that shook the ground even where they were. They could hear fighters overhead, probably F-16s or A-10s, whichever. Helicopters were rarely seen. There was one magnificent explosion in the sky, probably a plane being hit by a ground-launched SAM. The fireball lit up most of the sky and the night hid any parachute that may have fell but they certainly watched as a fighter tore itself apart from something.

War is hell. Colonel Delaney thought to himself as he and his men began searching from house to house. Smoke rose in the distance, billowing up towards the sky, from a raging fire below. It could have been a house, a tank, anything, but it sure was a big fire that seemed only to be spreading, but that could have just been an optical illusion. "Gentlemen. Keep alert. Nobody knows we're here. This is a fierce battle, I don't want to be caught in the middle of it. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The soldiers repeated and they moved onward, through the houses, many of which were abandoned. The houses that weren't abandoned were filled with people who looked more scared for their lives than perturbed that eight armed, very strong, and very scary men just ran through their house. The barrels of their weapons were never pointed at the civilians but the civilians seemed to all expect it. This war had affected them in the most horrific ways possible and it hadn't even begun.

"Fear is thine enemy." Colonel Delaney mentioned a few times to people, cowered in corners for safety. He felt bad for them, in a way. They were pathetic. Many of them huddled together, expecting a mortar or artillery shell to tear through their roof and turn them all into wall decoration. Some had built up a defensive position in their house and were prepared to defend it but those were few and far between.

Between the eight of them they carried: four M73A2 Enhanced Carbines with optical aimpoint scopes, suppressors, and grenade launchers; one M41A1 Sniper Rifle with a 10x Unertl scope, bipod, and suppressor; one M55A1 Automatic Shotgun with a flash suppressor; two M42A1 Squad Automatic Rifles with bipods; six M33A6 Pistols with silencers and tactical laser sights; sixteen M57 Fragmentation grenades, six M62 White Smoke grenades, two M59A1 Red Smoke grenades, eight M58 Stun grenades; six M68 Claymore mines; twenty-four pounds of Composition C4 explosive; four door-breeching charges; eight Seal Knife 2000 S37s; and other gadgets and goodies.

As they moved throughout the houses, growing increasingly dissatisified with not finding the bad guys they realized something that should have probably picked up from earlier. The largest building in the city was a high school and also, because of its nature, would be extremely dark, extremely large, and provide for an excellent hiding ground. The cinderblock walls kept sound it and in hallways, one could hear footsteps from fifty meters away even if they were light. They would head there.

::tag::

Chemical Weapons Storage Depot, El Jobal, Venezuela

Security at the El Jobal CW facility was tight, as usual. It was a small facility, just a small storage bunker in the middle of Venezuela. El Jobal was once the site of an iron mine but a serious collapse sixteen years ago put the whole area out of commission and another mine was opened and dug eighteen miles away. Since then, a high-security, well-built and fortified bunker was constructed not two miles from the mine collapse. The bunker, surrounded by the iron, made for a very unique facility and a very expensive one, given the toughness of iron to drill. This gave extra security to the facility against aerial attack.

Buried some 60 feet underneath the ground, the facility had three structures each one in excess of 300,000 ft². They were large, one being entirely a storage area for nerve agents, primarily three, Sarin, VX, and LA. The storage facility held roughly 50,000 gallons of Sarin, 25,000 gallons of VX, and 1,000 gallons of LA. It was nowhere near full storage capacity. In addition, it held some 900 rockets, all MGM-212 Chemical & Biological Release Rockets, which allowed soldiers to use chemical or biological weapons in a battlefield. The rockets were small, only 6 feet long, 6.5 inches wide, and they weighed under 150 pounds. Each one carried 104 spheres, each holding an ounce of either a chemical or biological agent. With 104 ounces, that meant 3,075.65 milliliters or a mere 0.8125 gallons worth of the loaded chemical or biological agent. The second structure was a small area for control, communications, and everything else associated with running the facility, including the barracks. The third structure, connected directly to the storage facility was the loading dock and garage, which held four vehicles at all times: an M2A4 Bradley IFV, an M2025A1 Piranha AT vehicle, and a pair of M2010A1 Bushmaster IMVs. In the event of a seige on the facility, these four vehicles could provide a type of basic level of cover until helicopters and aircraft arrived from airbases nearby. The facility was only home to sixty soldiers at any time, who alternated on three-month shifts, each group doing two-shifts per year. They were on for three months and then off for three months, then on, then off, and so on and so fourth.

The storage facility had quite an armory as well, boasting firearms ranging from light assault rifles and submachine guns to heavy machine guns like the M31 and the M50. They had enough rounds and rations to sustain themselves for 96 hours of straight fighting, during which time the SOP called for helicopter and aerial relief, as well as a ground convoy, if necessary. On December 12, it would be necessary.

Massed only a mile away from the facility was a small militia army, made up of 300 men. Of them, 62 were Illuminati SOF mercenaries, 138 were RLA trained terrorists, and the other 100 were just "cannon fodder," so to speak. The last group of 100 weren't highly trained RLA or Illuminati operatives, they were new recruits, who would get a baptism of fire, to use the cliché correctly. The soldiers were armed to the teeth with grenades, assault rifles, pistols, shotguns, machine guns, and even rocket launchers. Using a small EMP device they had an operative inside smuggle in, they were going to shut down the entire facility to break in and steal 12 rockets with their respective missiles.

They had transportation waiting for them, which included a pair of UH-1 Huey helicopters, both old and outdated relics that they had bought from Army Surplus. The two helicopters had been modified slightly to allow for better handling and carriage capacity. It retained a pair of door-mounted M35 LMGs and fitted flare dispensers for operations at low-level. They were sitting, quietly, hidden underneath the brush and trees of the terrain about four miles away.

Because the facility was hardened against external EMP, the device they had smuggled in would emit an internal signal, frying the processors and security subsystems, as well as the full mainframe; however, it would not be very effective. It would disable communications and the survelliance system as well as the interior lighting but it would not harm the vehicles, weaponry, or the security access systems. They had a plan for dealing with those though and it included C4 on the vehicles and a stolen ID card for the security access systems. The card wasn't stolen yet, though. They would have to obtain it from a dead body, the body of the base commander, which was going to be no easy picnic to get to, let alone kill. They were banking on their superior numbers and the shock of the EMP blast to get them into the first structure, which would be the hardest as it was the garage.

Slowly and quietly, the soldiers moved up to a point 650 meters from the facility, 50 meters from the ground-shock sensors. They were dug in and they could see a pair of guards outside, manning a small booth by the garage ramp. This was only the first gate that they had to pass through and it led to a long road and ramp, which gave full access to the garage. They would silently take out the guard post with long-range sniper shots. Though it was not a moonless night, they would be able to act accordingly and be successful. Nightvision would be obscured, slightly, because of the presence of a near full moon and they would have to compensate.

The two main snipers of the bunch, both Illuminati SOF mercenaries, laid down quietly and softly on the ground, 680 and 692 meters from the guard booth, staggered to avoid the muzzle blast of each others' weapons. Suppressors fitted to their rifles would enable them to hide the muzzle flashes and obscure the sound of their shots. They would not be silent, however. Their M45A1 Special Purpose Sniper Rifles carried a heavy bullet, the .338 Lapua (8.60 x 70mm) bullet, which packed a lot more punch than the 7.62 x 51mm standard bullet. They were bolt-action and weighed 15 pounds with 5 rounds loaded. With a bipod it was a very accurate and stable rifle, easy to manage, but a killer to the enemy. With an effective range of 1,100 meters and a muzzle velocity of 936 meters per second, the 692 meter shot would be nothing to the trained snipers or their rifles. As they set their scopes to adjust for the range, they waited for the order of the operation commander, Steven Plank, a captain in the RLA terrorist group and also a member of the Illuminati.

In his hand was a timer, which was synchronized with the timer on the detonator of the EMP device. Getting a signal in or out of the base was an impossible task so they had to set a timer and it was ready to go in 4:01, counting down each second as if it were a timer preluding to the end of the world. It was silent at the base and in the jungle around them. Nothing stirred and there were no planned deliveries for at least a week and a half. The current shift was almost 60% of the way through their shift, making them hungry to leave and lazy enough to be off-guard, if even slightly.

As the timer shot through 2 minutes like nothing, those inside went about their work. Some slept, some monitored the communications, some monitored the security systems. Few patrolled as it was almost unnecessary. The two guards at the front booth and the two at the garage booth would report anything if anything was going on and both posts were as silent as the night. Satellites passed by overhead, moving with the Earth. Civilian aircraft flew high, over 35,000 feet, on their flight paths throughout the Empire. It was nothing out of the ordinary until 2238, when the EMP device went off. It was a near silent explosion. The burst was just an electromagnetic pulse that shot out from the device, which was made to look like a computer laptop. Lights sparked and popped as well as circuit borders and unshielded electronics. The communications grid and survelliance grid went down immediately as the blast wave rocketed out of the facility at the speed of light. The lights went down and the base became even quieter than it was before. Inside the control room people were screaming about a power surge. They didn't suspect anything since some of the systems were still online, the more heavily shielded systems. Door access still worked, albeit the doors operated sluggishly. The vehicles still operated. Something was wrong but nobody suspected the obvious.

"Snipers. Go." Plank whispered in his radio as he saw the lights dim at the base. "We're go." He said again. The snipers replied not but, instead, squeezed their triggers. Their rifles rocketed back towards them as the bullets exited the chamber, releasing some 60,915 psi of pressure behind them. They twisted and tore through the air, making only the sound of their movement known. There was no flash and the sound of the gunshots was more like that of an aluminum garbage can falling down, onto the ground, than a bullet shot. Nonetheless, the bullets hit before the sound was even heard. Both twisted into their victims, who were seated. One went right through the heart of one victim, killing him instantly whereas the second tore through the chest cavity, just above the heart, almost at the base of the neck. Dead, both guards slumped down onto the ground, bleeding. Their radios weren't working so nobody could reach them even if they wanted to and vice versa.

"Teams, advance. We're going to take the garage next. Maintain plan." Plank ordered as the teams slowly moved up. The ground-shock sensors were still operable but the feeds that transported their input to the mainframe were fried. They showed nothing, even though they registered every single footstep. The EMP was a success and now came the next necessary success, seizing the garage.

The four Illuminati mercs moved up the pavement, sticking close to the wall. They knew that if they approached from the left they had the best chance at staying hidden until the last moment, the moment of the kill. Their night vision goggles put everything for 200 meters in a green shade. The guards at the garage booth did not have night vision, they usually relied on their spotlights, which now didn't work. In the pitch black of the ramp they were well shielded and hidden from the moonlight, which curved the wrong way, keeping the ramp dark. The four of them carried powerful carbines. Their M52A1 Carbines were loaded with 100-round C-Mag drums and they carried another two hundred rounds on them. Their Carbines were mounted with iron sights, they were too well trained to not make them beyond effective. On single shot, they approached the edge of the wall and took their cover, only 84 meters away from the booth. Then, with the sound of an aluminum trash can slaming onto the ground, they each fired a single shot, two aimed at the left person and two aimed at the right. All four shots met their mark and annihilated their targets. "Booth secure. Advance ready."

"Roger that." Plank smirked as he switched off the safety on his submachine gun. "All teams advance accordingly. Report when secure." He whispered and in silence, the men moved up, rifles shouldered, iron sights and scopes up, safeties off. The four men up front were soon joined by another eight as they approached the garage door, which would be forcibly opened with a C4 charge, allowing them access to the inside. As they planted the charges, the men placed more C4 charges on the outside as well as a few mines, to keep the vehicles inside and to keep them from getting out. This would enable them to keep the vehicles in place long enough to blow them up with more C4 charges.

The twelve Illuminati mercs who hit the garage were the most elite of the group. They were on the same level as Gray Fox in Quebec was and they were just as blood thirsty. They set the breeching charges against the door hinges and took cover, exploding them simultaneously, shattering the integrity of the door. The surprise was shattered and the base knew they were under attack, it was evident now.

Gunshots echoed from the garage as six workers met the resistance with a fierce fury of rifle fire. Bullets bounced off the edges of the garage door as the Illuminati mercs returned fire. The workers, trying desparately to get the vehicles moving, were well hidden. Two of the Illuminati mercs tossed in a pair of grenades while another used his 40 millimeter grenade launcher to wax a pair of soldiers hiding behind the M2A4 Bradley. The grenades handled the other four and the garage was secured moments later when the men flooded into it and disabled the vehicles using their charges, which effectively shattered the gasoline and brake lines of the Bushmasters and also took out three tires of the Piranha and both tracks of the Bradley. They stuffed another grenade into the gun barrel of the Bradley, effectively making it useless.

With the garage secured, relatively quickly and easily, and ten of the sixty soldiers of the base down and out, they would move into the next two areas, the storage structure and the barracks, which held the remaining fifty soldiers, forty of which were in the barracks structure. Without the alarm system, the facility had no way of informing the rest of it that things were going bad but most people inside picked that up when the whole place shook from the explosions. The Illuminati led the way, leaving some of their own and some of the "useless" to stand guard in the garage. The RLA and the Illuminati spearheaded the advance into the next two areas, which were side-by-side. Gunshots echoed again throughout the barracks as the immediate staff returned fire immediately. The storage room, holding ten of the soldiers, was off-limits though, they had to secure the keycard first and they had to kill the base commander.

The firefight in the barracks lasted a few minutes, if that, seeing most of the base soldiers just being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and skill of the Illuminati mercs and RLA terrorists. However, six RLA terrorists, two Illuminati mercs, and twelve other soldiers were killed in the firefight. Within a half hour, the base was secured, the cargo in hand, and the helicopter landed. The RLA cleaned up their dead and left the base soldiers to rot inside the facility.

December 13

The military convoy slowly approached the base entrance. It was led by a Dingo APV and included four 5-ton trucks carrying supplies with another Dingo APV taking up the rear, both Dingos armed with M31 HMGs. The four trucks were carrying supplies for another month of operations for the El Jobal Chemical Storage Facility. Two trucks carried food rations while another carried a shipment of 55-gallon drums, which would be replacing the empties that had been used for storage or garbage. The fourth truck was empty except for a single package, classified documents of codes and so on and so fourth. Every month codes changed.

As the lead Dingo pulled up the guard booth, to see no one there, things were supsicious immediately. The commander got out, his pistol drawn, followed closely by another soldier, carrying a shotgun. As they approached the guard booth and found the two soldiers dead, lying on the floor of the booth, dead, they immediately went into "damage control" mode. "Call it in! We've got an assault. Two dead here! Possible hostiles inside!" The commander yelled back to the Dingo as the driver immediately radioed the call into the headquarters. HQ, within seconds, dispatched four helicopters, each carrying eight men, to the base, with an ETA of 12 minutes. All helicopters were UH-96A Panthers, armed with 12.7MM gunpods, 2.75" CRV7 rocket pods, and door mounted LMGs. The convoy was to remain defensive until the thirty-two men arrived, at which point they would be on the offensive. Satellite shots were downloaded in the meantime, providing a reconnaissance of the base, including a heat scan, which turned up blank. The blown off door was a clear inkling that whomever was there wasn't anymore but still, the men were to stand fast.

The HMG operators on the two Dingos took up defensive positions, to protect the trucks, and those inside took up blocking positions as well, their weapons shouldered, safeties off. It was noon and they didn't need optical sights for seeing in the dark but they wished they had heat sights, just to see if anyone was sneaking up on them. The twelve minutes it took for the helicopters to arrive were tense and long. Each second seemed like a minute, each minute seemed like an hour, and the full six minutes felt like a year. The soldiers stayed wary, kept their guard up, their sights raised, and their weapons ready. They scanned every which direction for the enemy, despite the lack of an enemy.

Then, finally, the chopping sound of the rotor blades echoed on the horizon and four Panthers came into view, flying low and fast, their weapons ominously hung from the wing stubs. The men hung from the sides, the LMGs swaying left and right, waiting to see enemies on the ground. As the helicopters banked to land, the commander picked up his radio. "Panther flight. Report status, over."

"We're coming in for landing. Satellite reconnaissance shows no heat signatures. Advise full caution. Proceed as planned, over."

"Roger that. We're going to need aerial support. Over."

"We're set to cover from the air. We're loaded with 12.7 mike mike and CRV7 rockets. Over."

"Good. Stay high. Out." The helicopters descended and the thirty-two men jumped out with resolve. They all reported directly to the commander, who was pleased to see such forces. "Alright. Your in four teams. Just the way you came in the helicopter. You two teams will come with me and advance along the side wall there. Your team will reinforce my men here at the convoy. The last team will advance behind us. You will secure the garage while the rest of us will secure the remainder of the facility and ensure that the chemical weapons are intact. Chemical scans show no sign of toxin but be prepared with your masks, just in case. Understood?" They nodded accordingly and the men began to advance.

The teams advanced and moved up along the wall, only to find the guards dead and the garage door blown off. They advanced into the compound, to find only bodies, bodies, and more bodies. Finally, when they got to the chemical storage structure they found what they dreaded, what they wished they had never found. Immediately, the channels came alive with encrypted transmissions, all going to one place, the Joint Chiefs...

OOC: I should have mentioned this earlier, but Banting's walls are mauve on the top and white on the bottom. It's actually quite lifeless. There's no green in the building at all.

"Sir I think I see movement." One of the soldiers whispered. "Night vision up guys." He repeated and they all began to put on their night vision. Whatever was down the end of the hall wasn't there anymore and so they stood fast, where they were, weapons shoulded, leaning out of the doors, silent, quiet, and eerie. The halls were very green and the lack of actual lighting in the building made their goggles far more effective than they would be otherwise. They could see far, very far, which gave them an advantage over anyone without NVGs, which they hoped the enemy would not have. Their enemy was the Romans and Canadians, their allies the Quebecois. If Layarteb ever entered the war their enemy list would grow but for now, they were safe, or so they thought.

The call from the Layartebian base couldn't be more clear. "No Layartebian soldiers at Banting." Wolf knew what to do next. Banting was on the other side of Victoria Street, in front of which was a strip mall that included a Tim Horton's, an Esso gas station, Pizza Pizza and a Hasty Market, so he called for a Century to move right behind the mall, with one tank aiming a missle right at the high school. He was prepared to blow it up if he had to. Besides, this place could use a little redecorating....

All, however, did not go according to plan. The Quebecois spotted the Roman movement and moved to engage the Century, taking out a tank in the surprise attack. The RLA, though, were not warned of the Roman movement, as the Quebecois could not be able to tell if the Century was moving against them, but they did hear of renewed hostilities. Wolf could only grumble. "Oh great. Still, he decided to salvage what he could and ordered his men to move against the RLA soldiers.

"Eagle- set your sights on the soldiers. Fire at will," said Wolf, while all of them were still taking cover in one of the tech rooms, Eagle making the shot while concealed by a locker. "We will back you up." He was making a shot in the dark, but he figured it would be worth it. Something's gotta go right here....

The gunshots echoed throughout the walls and the hallways as the bullets whizzed by the Illuminati mercs. "Return fire!" Their leader yelled and the soldiers, firing from suppressed weapons, which hid the muzzle flash, returned fire as they prepared to move back to an escape route, just in case. "Eyes up! The leader yelled as he pulled the pin on a white smoke grenade and cooked it, counting in his head, One...Two...Three... Tossing the grenade towards the direction of the Roman soldiers. This would assist them in their retreat and also, possibly, help to silhouette the Roman soldiers against the lighter color smoke. They would use the smoke to shield their escape, which would be out the rear entrance of the building and towards a location on the outskirts of the city. The smoke grenade had a 5 second fuse and he knew it would pop either mid-air or as it landed. He just hoped that he had not overthrown the grenade, though highly unlikely.

OOC: I don't mean to be a pain, but Fox are supposed to be among the best sharpshooters the Romans have, Eagle being the best. I'd think he'd get at least one of the guys.

There are 20 Cohorts in a Roman Legion- not sure if I made that clear before.

Wolf saw the grenade and ordered his men to sit back. Eagle was shot and killed in return fire, as was Leopard. Wolf then radioed the based and asked for (and got) a reconnaissance helicopter to follow the fleeing RLA troops, and for the Army to block whatever entrances they could. This wouldn't be easy, as Quebec was starting to rumble for war yet again.

The Roman Army began some reorganizing. The 1st through 12th Cohorts- moved from its post at Riverdale Park (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245q%2d2sqy72%26%3dtw%21rtgg67%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 08ala%24n9r7%7c9%4022u6%2a%3al6t5%26%40%24%3a%26wr%269wr0u6%24%2e0f%40glz82u%40%24%3a9w72%210%2a%3ag z7n%26%40) to the Industrial Parkway and the Adjala-Tosorontio Townline (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245q%2d2xg072%26%3dtw%21rt5567%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 08ala%24n9r7%7c9%4022u6%2a%3al6t5%26%40%24%3a%26wr%269wr0u6%24%2e0f%40glz82u%40%24%3a9w72%210%2a%3ag z7n%26%40) with the 11th Cohort making their way to the 14th Line and Tottenham Road (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245q%2d25qy72%26%3dtw%21rbad67%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 08ala%24n9r7%7c9%4022u6%2a%3al6t5%26%40%24%3a%26wr%269wr0u6%24%2e0f%40glz82u%40%24%3a9w72%210%2a%3ag z7n%26%40) to provide more cover for Fox. Fortunately for them, the Quebecois- stationed in the NE end of the city- were still busy engaging the 13th Cohort at Boyne Street and Queen Street (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245q%2d2sgy72%26%3dtw%21rzll67%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 08ala%24n9r7%7c9%4022u6%2a%3al6t5%26%40%24%3a%26wr%269wr0u6%24%2e0f%40glz82u%40%24%3a9w72%210%2a%3ag z7n%26%40) to pay much attention to them, and the main Quebecois Army was already moving along Victoria Street in an effort to re-engage the Roman forces. The 14th and 15th Cohorts claimed the railroads that would be used for supplies, while the other three Cohorts stayed at Riverdale Park to provide cover for the moving Roman troops.

Fortunately for Wolf, the other scouting vehicles- that were behind Banting- did manage to catch the RLA as they were fleeing and followed the truck in pursuit, beginning to fire at the fleeing vehicle. Most of the Alliston residents were indoors, trying to take cover admist the ongoing battle, but some of the Allistoners cheered the Roman Army on in the streets, crying out their hate for the Quebecois, with some stomping on or even eating alive frogs and buring Quebec flags. It was quickly turning into a scene reminiscent of Dixieland in the US, with so much anti-Quebecois racism that the Roman commanders could only look in disgust. "Even in the 21st century they can still raise idiots," said Sullus to himself, in disbelief of what was going on before his eyes.

OOC: Right, right. Patience my good friend. You know they do have NVGs so they would have seen your guys coming.

With two less, the Illuminati group were fleeing their hardest. Their vehicle could only go so fast and the chasing Romans were beginning to lay down some heavy fire. It was tough to fight through the streets as they piled up with people but Gray Fox did as they did best. With the back window of the truck shot out, it would make the next part that much easier. One of the men shouldered his SLATDW and fired directly at a pursuing vehicle, aiming right for the hood so that if he shot low it would take out the engine and if he shot a little high it would impact inside the cabin. He threw the launcher out the back as another soldier, sitting right next to him, loaded a 40MM grenade and fired it right out the window, towards another fleeing vehicle.

..bump..

OOC: Yeah I know they would have seen me- that's why I lost two guys myself. I was just thinking I wouldn't have missed *all* of them. I'll make an IC post tommorow- too tired now.

"Requesting backup! We're hit, we're hit!" Wolf screamed following a direct hit on the car by the Illuminati member. Fortunately for the Romans, the reconnaissance helicopter was still hot on the Illuminati's trail, and the other Fiat Pandas were taking backroads to stay out of Gray Fox's sight. The high-speed chase soon turned into a battle of wits, with both sides seeing who'd flinch first.

The battle in Alliston was getting more haphazard by the minute. Quebec was not moving in a predictable manner, with their tanks roving around aimlessly and firing pretty much at any Roman they saw. This made any Roman counter-attack difficult, as the Quebecois made organization difficult. Eventually, the Romans decided against a head-on confrontation and on an enveloping manouvere, using the Industrial Parkway- which ran on the southern edge of town- to keep the Quebecois northward and inside the town proper. One Cohort stayed by the train tracks to the north-central of town to receive supplies, while the other 19 stationed themselves along the Industrial Parkway and King Street, to the south and northwest respectively. Five of the Cohorts would move in town to engage Quebec, while the other 14 would station themselves at the town's exit points to prevent an escape. If the Quebecois want to come to us, I say let them- and meet their doom thought Sullus.

"Colonel. We're getting something over the radio bands. It seems like our boys have been found sir. They're in a fight for their life but right now Gray Fox has a slight edge sir. Apparently they took out a trail but they have a helicopter on them. It is forseeable that they'll be captured sir."

"Well. We can't allow that now can we?"

"No sir."

"Where are they down?"

"Sir they're about a half a klick away, to the east."

"Roger that. We're in!" Colonel Delaney slammed on the gas pedal and turned the vehicle nearly 90° without so much as a flinch. The snow made it easier and he recovered quickly and effectively. The men kept their weapons ready and they would, if they had to, engage the vehicle to cause it to flip over or something of the sort, in order to capture the Illuminati mercs alive.

As they neared the car chase, they noticed a pair of vehicles travelling parallel but hidden, in the back woods. They couldn't make out what they were but they knew that they were either Roman or Quebecoi and that meant trouble for them. They had SLATDWs and they could use them but that was up to Colonel Delaney and the ROE. If it was evident that the two vehicles would completely inhibit their capture of Gray Fox then they would. They would take out the helicopter too, if they had too.

As soon as he found out about the pursuit, Sullus turned his radio on and informed the Layartebians. "We have the RLA in pursuit. Requesting orders. Do we capture them dead or alive?" Being on the other side of the city as the events, Sullus could only get what he could from the radio broadcasts and whatever imagery the helicopter could give them.

Meanwhile, the pursuit came to an awkward stop right by Nicholston Dam (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245q%2d20gf72%26%3dtw%21r7g167%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 08ala%24n9r7%7c9%4022u6%2a%3al6t5%26%40%24%3a%26wr%269472u6%24%2e0f%40ggyz2u%40%24%3a9w72%210%2a%3ag z7n%26%40), a 10 minute drive from Alliston itself. A vehicle turned 90 degrees blocked both sides of traffic along Highway 89, and the Nottawasaga River and the rolling hills behind it prevented the RLA vehicle from escaping. However what caught the Special Ops' attention was the vehicle on Highway 89- what was it doing there? Since it seemed to be going directly against the RLA, the Romans figured it would be on their side.

The two Roman vehichles that were in pursuit of the RLA went stopped right before the river on either side of the 89. Akela, the driver of the vehicle on the south side- parked on Kindlers Road- attempted to get in touch with the blocking vehicle with an encrypted message. "This is the Roman Imperial Army. It appears that we are after the same catch. Allow us to help you.

The senior Layartebian commander for the Quebec operation was well in the loop. He knew completely about the presence of an RLA terrorst group and knew of a secret mission involving Special Forces to capture them, alive. However, he didn't want to give too much information away and it was evident that there was no hiding the fact that the Special Forces were in pursuit and had found their marks. His name was Major General Weathers and he had an instant response back to the Roman command. "Roman Command. This is Layartebian Command Quebec. We are reporting on situation on Highway 89. We have Special Forces in pursuit of RLA terrorists for capture. Please do not hinder their efforts." He put down the microphone and looked at the tasking order. A flight of three F-16G Super Falcon fighter-bombers, armed with laser-guided bombs and Mavericks were flying on an On-Call CAS pattern sixteen miles from the Quebec/Layarteb border. "Roman Command. Satellite reconnaissance shows heavy resistance in Quebec. Flight of three Falcons on CAS ready for strike."

On the ground, Colonel Delaney and his men were in a perfect position and, at the same time, a horrible position. They had been seen by the Romans. At the same time, they had the Illuminati Mercs cornered. With only one hundred and eighty meters between their position and the Illuminati Mercs, they were at a perfect firing angle, shielded by their vehicle. The Illuminati Mercs, on the other hand, were in a terrible position all around. They were out of SLATDWs and they were down to just their small arms, despite being down to at least a quarter of their ammunition quantities.

OOC: Bump. Hey Rome can we finish up Quebec so I can start on the rest of this revolution?

OOC: Bump. Hey Rome can we finish up Quebec so I can start on the rest of this revolution?

OOC: We'll finish this, trust me. It's been busy for me.

OOC: We'll finish this, trust me. It's been busy for me.

OOC: Roger that. No, I know. I am just hoping to get to the next part.

"Roger that," replied Sullus, who then radioed Akela the order. Akela was only too quick to oblige. "Men, do not- I repeat DO NOT- interfere at all with the Layartebian operation," radioed Akela to the Roman Special Forces in the vicinty. He then sent an assurance to the Layartebian command that the Romans would stay out of the operation, but would be available should the Layartebians need them.

Meanwhile, in Alliston proper, the Quebecois were beginning to get organized. They realized the Romans weren't going to move, so they decided they had to strike themselves. Moving along Highway 89, they continued straight after the junction with King Street into Reserve Lane, a road reserved for trucks. Quebec hoped that by moving their forces into the Lane- which gave trucks backdoor access to the Dairy Queen right at the intersection, the Zehrs grocery market, and the adjacent strip mall, they'd be able to "fool" the Romans and perhaps escape to Toronto. Sullus was not fooled. He positioned his troops at the Industrial Parkway on purpose to catch any rapid Quebecois attack, and it worked. Ten minutes after the Quebecois movement was spotted, the Romans had successfully managed to bring 10 Cohorts at the intersection of Highway 89 and Industrial Parkway, where there was the West 89 Bar, an Eastside Mario's and a Canadian Tire on the north side and a McDonald's, Sobey's grocery store and the Tim Horton's where Duceppe had met Rodemari on the south. The Romans planted themselves on the south, while the Quebecois faced west.

The battle turned into shooting fish in a barrel. At first, Quebec tried a mad dash across Highway 89 hoping the Romans wouldn't catch them, but every tank that passed was obliterated by a Roman rocket. Then Quebec tried a head-on collision. Without the RLA by their side, Quebec was doomed. They were no match for the Romans' superior weaponry and armament, and while they were able to inflict some damage on the Romans' tanks, they could obliterate not one. After a six-hour firefight, which levelled the McDonald's and turned the adjacent parking lots and roadways into smouldering ashes of burnt rubber and destroyed asphalt, not a single Quebecois vehicle remained, while the Romans only had lost one attack Hummer. It was an impressive display of Roman military power, and later the site would be commemorated as the area where Ontario's liberty was kept alive. The McDonald's would be restored, but right out front would be steel-cased replica tank statue commemorating the Battle of Alliston.

"On December 13, 2005, here the Roman Army together with the Canadian Armed Forces successfully repulsed an invasion by the breakaway Quebecois Republic. It is because of these brave men and women that our freedom was restored and maintained, allowing Ontario to grow and prosper to the state it is today."

Colonel Delaney and his men had the vehicle annihilated, for the most part. A grenade into the front engine block forced the mercs to flee the vehicle, where they were now facing a death squad of Force Falcon soldiers. "Weapons down and you don't die!" Colonel Delaney yelled, pointing his weapon right at the Illuminati leader. He looked aggrevated, cornered by the Romans and this elite group of soldiers from the Empire. "DOWN NOW!" He yelled again since his original order wasn't followed. Once again, they didn't comply and that was not a problem. He popped off a single shot, which pierced right through the upper thigh of one of the mercs. He fell to the ground and dropped his weapon, whilst the other five remained entwined by the situation. "Who's next?" He yelled at them as they began to realize that they couldn't win the situation. Close to a quarter of a second later, they began to slowly put down their weapons. "On your knees. Hands over your head. Not a single movement or else you get one through the head." He kept a cover on them as they all did so, spread out enough that each one of them could be put down easily. "Alright. Round them up." As three of the soldiers moved towards them, to secure them and disarm them of all the weaponry they carried, the remaining five kept a close eye on them, in order to ensure that they weren't going to do anything stupid.

It didn't take long and within a few hours, the entire group, minus their two fallen, along with Force Falcon, were airborne in a pair of MV-24 Bulldog aircraft, heading back towards a Layartebian base.

News of the defeat of the Quebecois by the Romans spread through the Empire rapidly and joy was had at all levels. However, the Empire was still ready and rearing to go, to fight the Quebecois and take control of the land.

OOC: Alright Rome that'll conclude this CH. Good stuff. I'll post for the next chapter now, basically when my forces invade Quebec, unless you want to add more?

OOC: No, it's done. We can proceed.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 8: Terrorists use sarin gas in several Ontario subway stations. 400 are killed.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Confirmed Body Count: 1,522
Unconfirmed Body Count: 1,764+

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Confirmed Body Count: 1,122
Unconfirmed Body Count: 1,364+


OOC:You missed the "Subway Mist Incident" on December 8:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10324995&postcount=84

Chapter VI: Colorblind

The border between Quebec and the Empire had fallen silent. Since the Quebecoi defeat in Alliston a mere day ago, their military was in utter disrepair. What forces survived the failed offensive were fatigued, their morale lower than low. They had bet all of their chips on the invasion of Toronto to succeed, thereby making them a regional power that neither Rome nor the Empire would push around. That plan backfired and still, not even a day and a half later, the Layartebian forces on the border had not budged. The Quebecois feared the worst and they knew it was coming, it was just a matter of time.

An ultimateum had been delivered to the Quebecoi government only six hours after their defeat in Alliston. It was clear cut and simple, terse and well-written.

To Government of Quebec
From the Emperor of Layarteb

Given your foolish offensive in Toronto and given the status of things, our border proximity, and the inevitable clashes that we may experience on our borders, the Empire hereby offers the Quebecoi government until 0001 on December 15 to step down and allow annexation into the Empire. Quebec shall join the Province of Dnalkrad as a full state. Should this move be entertained, those leaders who facilitated in my request will not be chastised. Should this move be ignored, the Empire will have no choice but to seek annexation by alternative means.

The Emperor

He had hand-written the communique himself and he wanted only one thing, for it to be followed so that the ILM would not have to struggle and lose men. Unfortunately, it was 0030, December 15, and the request had been ignored. Still, the Emperor was a patient man and he would wait them out, just a little while longer. He had sent numerous requests for a status update but none had been returned, none until now.

At 0035, the response came across his desk.

To the Emperor of Layarteb
From the Free People of Quebec

We're disinclined to acquiesce to your request.

The Emperor smiled at the communique. "Amusing. At least they have a sense of humor." He joked to his cabinet, who had all gathered in his office. "Well gentlemen. I believe that this is something that we cannot ignore. Please, let us notify our Roman compatriots of our situation. Operation Black Spider will commence at 0200." The cabinet agreed and a communique was immediately prepared for the Roman government, sent directly to their leader himself.

Encryption Max
To Roman Government
From The Empire of Layarteb

The Empire has politely asked for a peaceful means to the end of this Quebec situation. We shamefully announce that our requests have only been laughed off and that the Quebecois mean to stand in our way. The Empire will begin Operation Black Spider, our annexation of Quebec into the Empire, promptly at 0200. We appreciate the understanding.

Thank You

The Emperor

The Emperor leaned back in his chair and watched the clock. The orders went through the ranks quickly and quietly, without difficulty. The orders were set in stone and clearly defined. The war would begin at 0200 with fighters, mostly F-19A Ghostriders, F-24A Knightowls, and F-37A Razor fighters skirting across the border on seek and destroy missions. B-4A Magnum and B-7B Incubus bombers would follow suite. The first wave of attacks was meant to completely cripple their communications network and obliterate their entire air defense grid. F-22A Raptor fighters would be on constant patrol on BARCAP missions, meant to shoot down anything the Quebecois put in the air. Some carried SDB JDAM II bombs to destroy aircraft on the ground, if necessary. A-13A Viper CAS aircraft would make it their mission to destroy any type of mobile units they came across: tanks, vehicles, SAM units, AAA units, and anything else. AH-94A Stalker helicopters would assist in the CAS role and aim to destroy the helicopter forces of Quebec, whether those helicopters were in the air or on the ground. Lastly, the remainder of the air force would slowly migrate across the border on attack and bombing missions, hitting everything they could, aircraft included. This was going to be a fourteen day air campaign backed up a full fledged assault of ground forces. Paratroopers and SOF soldiers would be deployed as soon as the air campaign began, their mission to degrade the enemy behind their lines in support of advancing ground forces. At 0200 it would begin, a mere forty-five minutes away.

The first munitions to strike anything would be from Package A. Package A consisted of twenty aircraft, all of them stealth aircraft of the highest caliber. Leading the package was Serpent 1, a four-ship formation of F-19A Ghostrider fighter-bombers, armed with 2 AIM-204A Escape and 2 AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles for self-defense and 8 GBU-51 JDAM II bombs. Their immediate escorts was Lobo 1, a four-ship formation of F-24A Knightowl fighters, armed with 4 AIM-204A Escape and 8 AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles. The third group was a Lion 1, a four-ship formation of F-19A Ghostrider fighter-bombers, armed with 2 AIM-204A Escape and 2 AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles for self-defense and 4 AGM-88F AARGM Block I missiles for use against radars. The four group was Shark 1, a four-ship formation of F-37A Razor fighter-bombers, carrying 4 AIM-204A Escape, 2 AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM, and 6 AIM-179C BVRAAM missiles for self-defense and 6 GBU-52B JDAM II bombs. The fifth and final group was Piranha 1, a four-ship formation of FB-22B Manta medium-bombers, carrying 2 AIM-204A Escape and 2 AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles for self-defense and 30 GBU-49 JDAM II bombs.

Package A was flying right into the heart of the enemy, to Montreal. Their ultra-stealth airframes would allow them to strike without warning. The F-37s, carrying their external ordinance was going to be attacking but from a completely different angle. As Lobo 1 providing escort cover against fighters, Serpent 1 would be dropping their thirty-two JDAM II GPS-guided bombs on sixteen targets inside the city: four communications, four HQ command centers, and eight air defense centers. Lion 1 would be providing immediate SEAD cover, firing their sixteen AARGM missiles against radars and SAM units providing cover for the city. The F-37s would attack more command and communications targets. Lastly, Piranha 1, with their one hundred and twenty bombs, would strike mobile AAA and SAM units throughout the city.

With their bombs all falling and striking around 0200, the war had begun. The twenty aircraft kept high, around 60,000 feet, and kept up a high subsonic speed, around Mach 0.93. They were invisible to radar and they were also manned by some of the best in the ILAF. B-4 and B-7 bombers were airborne too, carrying GPS-guided JDAM II bombs. These bombs would be dropped on airfields, radar sites, communications sites, and ammunition depots throughout the country. AH-94 Stalker helicopters and A-13 Viper attack fighters would be engaging and destroying tanks, vehicles, mobile AAA and SAM units, and communications and radar masts. F-22A Raptors, F-24A Knightowls, F-25A Firefoxes, and F-37A Razors would provide air cover over the country as the enemy launched their aircraft in feeble attempts to stop the attack. It would be a dismal failure. AIM-204A Escape, AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM, AIM-179C BVRAAM, and AIM-202A Dodsengel missiles would be flying through the sky, towards their targets, without any remorse.

Throughout this entire ordeal, C-17A Globemaster III and C-130J Hercules aircraft would be flying low and fast, moving towards their drop points. At these points, they would slow down to between 180 and 200 miles per hour, climb to 1,500 feet, and drop their paratroopers. Then, they would move further out of hostile airspace, under the cover of the CAP aircraft. SEAD would be provided by Manta, Super Falcon, and other assorted aircraft throughout the entire air war. Nearly every SAM and AAA site was identified prior to the campaign and they would all be neutralized in the first twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Within two days they hoped to annihilate the entire air defense grid, the capability of the enemy to launch aircraft, and the ability of the enemy to resupply their front-line troops.

At 0200, over the quiet, somber, yet alert city of Montreal, the Ghostriders and Knightowls flew. Mantas were going to release their payload from fifteen miles out and the AARGM missiles were already airborne, heading towards their targets at Mach 3. With over a hundred bombs falling at once, the city came alive when the first explosions shook the ground. The JDAM IIs dropped from the Ghostriders hit first and with devestating accuracy. The bombs from the Mantas hit next, at nearly the same time that the AARGM missiles struck their targets. Lastly, the Razors came screaming in, dropping their bombs at once. Within fifteen minutes, the city was on fire from nearly three dozen locations, with hundreds dead, and the first shots of the war fired. For the next six hours, Montreal would be a bright burning wreck, trying desparately to fight back with its anti-aircraft fire, not that it would hit anything.

OOC: EDIT: "Chibougamau" is supposed to be in red. The formatting changed the colour

Duceppe greeted the news of the Quebec invasion with glee, and was eager to get involved. He saw this as his chance to strike back at the nation which had betrayed him and the Quebecois a taste of their own medicine. His Roman supervisors, however, didn't share the same sentiments- they worried that if Duceppe got involved the Romans would look like imperialists and would be in support of expansionism at the expense of a sovereign, stable state like Quebec, something that went against their morals. Duceppe needed an out, but how?

It would turn out Boisclair would do it for him. Duceppe made a request to Boisclair demanding he hand over those responsible for the Subway Mist Incident, and Boisclair refused. Now, this turned into a war against terrorism.

At this moment, the Layartebian Emperor's message concerning the impending invasion of Quebec arrived at his desk. Within minutes of reading it, Duceppe was fast with his reply.


To: The Empire of Layarteb
From: Canadian Consul Gilles Duceppe
Re: Operation Black Spider

---Encryption Max---

We wholeheartedly accept and understand the reasons for which you are invading Quebec. The Republic of Canada and the Roman Empire stand behind your decision and pledge our unyielding support.

I will also take this time to state that we will offer any assistance that may be needed to your invasion. We sent a request to Quebecois President Andre Boisclair demanding he hand over those responsible for the Subway Mist Incident only to be rebuffed, placing the Republic of Canada in a situation of war against the Republic of Quebec. Therefore, we are requesting the ability to send in our own armies across the border at James Bay so as to protect our hydroelectric interests there and to deal a crippling blow to theirs. We will not interfere at all with your operations and hope that our officials can meet with your officials so as to co-ordinate the invasion effort. The Roman Empire also requests the ability to interrogate persons in the RLA and the Quebecois government in accordance to our own investigation to the Subway Mist Incident.

We thank you for your time and reaffirm that Rome is committed to ending of the terrible regime in Quebec. Together we can destroy the government that should never have been.

Canadian Consul Gilles Duceppe

Quebec City

Boisclair was asleep when his General- Macel Dupuis- phoned him regarding the bombing of Montreal. "Get to the bunker, and hurry!" screamed Dupuis on the phone. "We don't have much time."

The command bunker was located in Chibougamau (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chibougamau%2C_Quebec), some 345 miles north of Quebec City. It was there that the Quebecois Cabinet assembled to assess the threat the Layartebians posed.

"General, what's the situation? How is our military?" asked Boisclair, who started the meeting promptly.
"Not good sir," replied Dupuis. "We have ten tanks left, fifty IFV's, thirty personnel carriers and 10,581 soldiers left, with 51,234 reserves who were not used in Ontario. Our Air Force is currently engaging the Layartebian Air Force over Montreal but their weaponry is vastly superior."
"Essentially, we're f***ed." Boisclair started to bawl.
Oh brother. This is what you get when you have a homo in charge."I wouldn't put it that way sir. If we turn this into a guerilla war, we may stand a chance. We'll use the Montreal subway and the sewer system to keep the fight underground. We can keep a token force above ground so the Layartebians can think they're meeting the main force when they're not. We also should broadcast a recruitment video, urging every Quebecois to start their own militias to counter the Layartebian threat. I will get the leaders on the ground to co-ordinate these new militias and direct each and every one of them in Molotov cocktail production. We will need them if we are to suceed."
"Oh! I love you!" Dupuis unleashed a queasy smirk at the remark.
Boisclair continued, beeming. "This war is winnable! No longer will Quebec be oppressed! We are saved!"
"Sir? The broadcast?"
"Oh right." With that, Boisclair taped a message calling on all Quebecois to unite against Layarteb, enlist in the Army and to form militias like the Minutemen during the American Revolution, with each being directed by Quebecois military officials. His message was impassioned and to the point, which he hoped would boost enlistment in the military and cause the millions of Quebecois to rise against what Boisclair termed "Layartebian imperialism". The message was E-Mailed in an encrypted message to CBMT-TV (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CBMT-TV), Quebec's national broadcaster, where it promptly received extensive play. A day later, the Quebecois Army ballooned to 542,648- armed mostly with AK-47's, with more than one million Quebecois being involved in a militia one way or another.

Boisclair was pleased at the results. However, in Montreal, things were getting dicey. Some 30,000 Montrealers- calling themselves the "Voice of Canada"- were clashing in the streets with the Quebecois militia. The Voice represented Montreal's extensive English population, and placed their emphatic support on the Layartebians, believing they would be able to "liberate them against the oppressive Quebecois regime". For a city whose economic decline could be linked to the fanatical nature of Quebec's pro-French-language laws, the thought of being able to revert to English rule was a comforting thought. For the rest of the populace, it underscored what had been the most complex month of their lives- once independent, Quebec not only faced an imperialist takeover, but also a Civil War. The situation couldn't get any uglier, but somehow it would.

Governor's Island had seen more activity in the past three hours than it had in months. The war over Quebec was bringing in just about everyone and everyone necessary. They all converged on one room within the castle, which was underneath it, buried deep and hardened well. This was the situation room, which was the largest command center in the Empire. It spanned an entire level, almost, and within its walls one could watch and observe everything within the Empire and the world, especially during a state of war. Details maps of Quebec and its different PAKs were displayed on the various monitors as aircraft went into and out of the country. When the Roman response beat across the airwaves, the Emperor was handed it immediately. "Well. The Romans have nothing against our war. That is good because the bombs are falling already." He shared a laughed. "And now they wish to move in to secure the James Bay Hydroelectric Dam. What can you tell me of this target?"

"Well sir." The General of the Air Force spoke up. "Sir. We're not going to bomb it and we have a group of SOF soldiers en route to take control of it. They will be there within the hour sir, their Bulldogs are moving in quickly and effectively, under the cover of A-10D Thunder Bolt IIs."

"Very well. Inform the Romans that we have plans to secure the James Bay Dam but, at the same time, we will not find it problematic if they wish to move in and secure the dam ahead of time. We will have SOF soldiers on site within the hour and at this point, they should be allowed control over the dam. The future of this dam and Roman-Layartebian relations will be determined following the war but the status quo is not objectionable."

"Very well sir. I'll send the communique immediately." The Minister of Foreign Affairs had the message encoded and sent within eight minutes and he hoped that it would reach them before they crossed the border.

"Very well. Now. General. What can we expect in terms of actual ground fighting?"

"Well sir," the General of the Army stood. "Sir. We do expect their force levels to be far less than half what they were when they started fighting the Romans in Ontario. However, on the other hand, intelligence shows that they are sending out communiques to their people. They are calling militias up to arms against our 'Imperialism.' Furthermore sir, the threat of guerilla warfare, though it exists, will not be a problem. Sir, we've fought them in Kaliningrad and in the Yucatán with success, albeit the latter was more successful. We will be prepared. They will definitely be using the underground effectively as we've seen the Bolivians and Texans do against the Romans. We should take special note of this and act accordingly."

"Speaking of the underground, what of the Roman request for the terrorists who struck the subways with Sarin gas?"

"Sir. I think it is advisable, if we find them, to turn them over."

"Understood. What would be the possibility of a Roman Special Ops team within our ranks trying to find them?"

"Sir. We've worked with the Romans before and this idea is not a foreign one. In fact sir, we recommend the idea."

"Very well. Inform them."

"Yes sir."

"Now. With that out of the way. Where do we stand on our campaign?"

"Well sir. They've launched their fighters and it seems that they have had some limited success. Two F-16 flights were forced to abort their bombing runs ut their aggressors were dealt with by a pair of F-22A Raptors. Bombs are hitting with excellent accuracy and when our BDA flights commence at 0800, we will know how effective we have been."

"Very well. Continue then."

"Well sir. We estimate that our plans and goals will be achieved, on time and without many losses. A ten day air campaign may be unnecessary but we will certainly keep pounding them. We must watch the growth of any militias and handle them effectively and accordingly."

"Yes we must. Very well. Shall we take a small break and convene again in an hour?"

Moosonee, Ontario

As soon as word got out that the Layartebians allowed Rome to occupy Quebec's portion of James Bay, the Roman Army quickly went to work. They sent the Layartebians a statement stating that they wished not to interfere with their plans to annex Quebec, affirming a withdrawal once the state is annexed and offering to remain in a peacekeeping role should the need arise. The 5th, 6th and 7th Canadian Legion immediately set its sights on Waskaganish, the first major settlement east of Moosonee, and laid an immediate objective of occupying nearby Eastmain and Wemindji as well (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%24s9%2dblq672%26%3dtg%21rtwd67%3ah%2daa0zta%26z%402gfr5q%4 0b250tx1%402n56%2an%26u72u%2c%24xuzr%3a%26%40%24%3adu%40ld672u%40%5fgu%2d8whf72%26%40%24nq67%261%2c% 240062%3a%26). Rome was expecting at least a token force at the Quebec border given the importance of the Hydroelectric project, so it could ill-afford to be unprepared.

The projected invasion plans called for simply a ground assault with one Legion occupying each site, as Rome did not want to damage the operations, just cut them off. Since the Quebecois were obliterated in Alliston, the Romans weren't anticipating a lot of heavy resistance, but they weren't going to take Quebec lightly. They took off from Moosonee at 12AM, arriving at Waskaganish at around 3AM. When they arrived, they found a firefight involving Cree rebels and a Quebecois milita, with several houses and buildings already in flames due to the fighting. Sullus figured that Quebec had attempted to evict the Cree from their own village in an attempt to assert their dominance, and, with uncertain times ahead, the Cree figured they'd take advantage of the chaos and fire back. The Romans, when they arrived, also decided to engage the Quebecois, informing the Cree that they arrived "as liberators not conquerors". There were maybe 4,500 Quebecois militia men to the Cree's 3,000- many coming from the surrounding areas.

Alliston


Within a day of the defeat of Quebec outside of Alliston, Wolf and his associates begun planning possible Special Forces action inside Quebec. Boisclair would eventually refuse to handover those responsible for the Subway Mist Incident, so he knew he'd have to find them himself.

When clearance to enter Quebec was received from the Layartebians- who emphatically supported the Roman action- Sullus began preparations for what would become "Operation: Extraction". Sullus ordered some 50 Chevrolet Suburbans to act as the transportation to Quebec City (as the Fiat Pandas would be a dead giveaway to their status as Romans), and worked hard to give each of the Special Ops soldiers aliases to allow them entry into Quebec. Their cover would be that they're members of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation on assignment to cover the "War with Quebec", a true news segment for the CBC, a move which would work since the CBC was already covering the war since it began. Their objective, however, was to go to Quebec City itself, arrest the Quebecois politicians- including Boisclair- and extract whatever information they could get out of them regarding the attack. Sullus also sent the Layartebians a request to interview Gray Fox, as they wanted information from them regarding what they know of the incident.

When the final preparations were finished, Operation: Extraction left Alliston for Quebec City, expecting to arrive there in ten hours. Wolf wasn't sure what he'd expect when he arrived, but he dug his heels in for what would amount to be a long and arduous mission. After all this insanity, let's hope they're right in saying there will be calm after the storm. Canada could use one less blizzard.

Encryption Max
To: Q. Cornelius Sullus
Fr: The Emperor

The Empire will allow a Roman contingent of intelligence officers to come to a predesignated point inside New York. Transportation will be arranged. Information gained will not be exclusive to Roman interests however. Your process shall not be impeeded and any information necessary for your campaign shall be given.

The Emperor watched the battle in the JOC as aircraft flew inside and outside of the country. Thus far, an F-16G Super Falcon had been downed by a surface-to-air missile and six other aircraft had to return to base with damages. Four flights had been aborted and mission success rates were quite high, even though only five hours had passed. Ghostriders and Knightowls had led the waves and the strikes and the country of Quebec was in flames. Fighters fought bravely over the skies, downing aircraft and bombing targets relentlessly.

Sullus promptly replied.


Encryption Max
To: The Emperor of Layarteb
From: Q. Cornelius Sullus, Legate of the Canadian Legions

Thank you. We shall send a team to New York State as requested. However, we would like to understand the reasoning behind why any information we obtain cannot solely remain with us. We trust that your government does not have "anything to hide" from us, however the interrogation could potentially reveal information that could compromise Roman security and we would like to keep that classified. We will not impede with your governmental activities and any information that is relevant to you will be passed along. We would like to state that we have no intention of being confrontational- we are just worried that your request may hinder our investigation and would like to understand it better so we can arrive at a solution best for both of us.

Thank you.

Sir. The Romans want to know why is it that we require full access to all information obtained during interrogation of the RLA terrorists?"

"Why? It's simple. Let them know that the ongoing investigation of the RLA terrorist organization runs deep within the history of the Empire and is quite large, despite our best efforts to fully hamper it. We believe that the Quebec situation and the past events perpetrated by the RLA are all interconnected. Whatever information we can get from them is extremely important and even the smallest detail may lead to some other avenue we have yet to explore. Our main fear, so to speak, is that the RLA terrorists will dilvulge information to the Romans that they would not otherwise give to us and that said information might turn out to be extremely important and useful. We could, perhaps, work something out whereby the Romans, particularly their ambassador, filters the information they get so that their 'classified' material stays just that."

"Understood sir. I will convey the message immediately." The Minister of Intelligence was gone within a flash and he was sending the communique instantly. Thus far it seemed that everything was going accordingly. The Romans secured the hydroelectric dam and the SOF forces were only minutes away. The plan had changed somewhat, however. The Romans would stay at the dam for the remainder of the conflict to show good faith and good will. The dam was extremely important to both the Empire and the Romans and it had to remain secure. Whatever mess was going on in the rest of the country, it could not interfere with the safety of that dam and the Emperor made that quite clear to his military commanders.

As the sun began to rise, the city of Montreal was a nightmare. Buildings had been leveled, air defense systems sat burning in the streets. Tanks and vehicles were burned out along highways and encampments throughout the country. Reconnaissance flights were showing extreme levels of success in all missions flown and the F-16G Super Falcon that had been shot down was located. The pilot had been rescued and the wreckage sabotaged with thermite grenades to prevent the Quebecois from gaining anything useful from it. In the middle of the night another aircraft, an F-22A Raptor, went down, but more the result of mechanical problems than enemy fire. It had been sabotaged as well but the pilot did not survive.

Sullus immediately wired a message to the Layartebians informing them that their terms were acceptable. Averted what could have been a dicey conflict...

James Bay

The Romans' objectives were well on their way to completion at Waskaganish. Upon arriving, the 5th Canadian Legion had no problems dealing with the Quebecois militia, who were essentially fish in a barrel to the Romans' guns.

It was at Eastmain- the main port of the Hydroelectric project- that the Romans experienced the most difficulty. The Quebecois expected an assault on Eastmain at one point or another during the war, and had thoroughly booby-trapped the site. Roadside bombs were constructed, bonfires set, the buildings were lined with people ready to launch Molotov cocktails and an elaborate underground tunnel with the command bunker was set up. The bonfires made tracking difficult, making the Romans unable to predict where the bombs were falling from.

The Romans dug their heels in. They'd need to be on top of their wits if they wanted to take Eastmain, because Quebec was fully anticipating a fight.

Montreal

There was not a lot the main Quebecois Army could do but wait. The Layartebians were bombing the lights out in Montreal, but they still held back in bringing in actual soldiers. The Army Command for Montreal moved deep inside the Montreal Subway system, setting up a Command Centre at Cote des Neige Station. Much of the Montreal resistence moved underground, leaving the militias to deal with the Layartebians' bombs. Meanwhile, above ground The Voice was still battling hard with the militias, with the fierce battle now going door-to-door through whatever buildings were still standing.


Quebec City
Meanwhile, the Quebecois Army were fast at work preparing their sewer system into an underground defence network. Just like in Montreal, the Army stockpiled Molotov cocktails, rations and any other resources that they may need for a long battle.

Above ground, the city was acting normally, hoping to present a city that was unaffected by the invasion. It would also play into the Quebecois' propaganda plans- when the Layartebians invaded Quebec City, they could "justifiably" say that Layarteb was looking to end the Quebecois' way of life. Meanwhile, another underground militia was forming, this one by the Voice, looking to raise the same kind of chaos they had in Montreal and cut the head off the Quebecois snake.

Philipsburg

What was left of the Quebecois military equipment was stationed here, about two kilometers from the Quebec-Layarteb border (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%245d%2d7luu72%26%3dtx%216t5u67%3ah%2dbnhwr5%26z%40n9u2n9%4 0b2562%3a9uy2%3bu%24nu67%7c%26a7aq%40%24%3a%26%40rs%2141wh67%3a%29zb%260ablu6%24%3a%26ur2u%2da%7c%26 yt29%40%24) and along Highway 133, the fastest route to Montreal. The Quebecois were probably hedging their bets too much that this would be the entry point into Quebec, but then again, the Quebecois were placing more of an emphasis on their underground defences. In the meantime, they waited...and waited.

"Sir, reconnaissance is coming online now." The Minister of Intelligence said, sitting around the main table in the CIC. "There we go sir. It seems, from initial estimates, that our strikes are at an effectiveness rate of 98%. This is quite good sir. Secondly, it seems that the Quebecois have been taken hard and by surprise. Most of their military is annihilated already and we're going to keep pounding them. Sir. I might suggest one option."

"Minister?"

"Sir. It is quite plausible that the Quebecois are moving underground."

"Indeed Minister. That is precisely why we will be hitting them with our new types of munitions."

"Sir?"

"Our thermobaric munitions."

"Ah sir. Coupled to Paveway Vs and JDAM IIs correct?"

"Yes. They will be laid down in on the enemy. We learned fighting in Kaliningrad and the Yucatán that the enemy loves to go underground. The Romans found out the hard way in Dallas and Bolivia so we shall not repeat their mistakes. They will be dropped inside of penetrating munitions, meant to penetrate through concrete, asphault, and other types of surface mediums. We can achieve one hundred feet of earth or twenty feet of reinforced concrete with the old GBU-28s. Our Paveway Vs and JDAM IIs can achieve more than that when dropped from certain altitudes with certain nose cones. We will be aiming that here."

"Yes sir."

"The effects of a thermobaric munition are amazing. It first explodes and the blast wave destroys unreinforced buildings and equipment. Unprotected personnel are injured or killed as well. The antipersonnel effect of the blast wave is more severe in foxholes, on personnel with body armor, and in 'stiff' enclosed spaces such as caves, buildings, and bunkers. The overpressure within the detonation can reach 3 MPa (430 lbf/in²) and the temperature can be 2500 to 3000 °C. Outside the cloud the blast wave travels at over 3 km/s. Following the initial blast is a phase in which the pressure drops below atmospheric pressure creating an airflow back to the center of the explosion strong enough to lift and throw a human. It draws in the unexploded burning fuel to create almost complete penetration of all non-airtight objects within the blast radius, which are then incinerated. Asphyxiation and internal damage can also occur to personnel outside the highest blast effect zone, e.g. in deeper tunnels, as a result of the blast wave, the heat, or the following air draw."

"Sir. That sounds extraordinary."

"It is. We can thank the LDC for their contribution."

"Yes sir." They all shared a laugh as the thermobaric munitions we being prepared. The thermobaric strikes wouldn't occur until the second day of air strikes. There were plenty more targets to take care of above ground. As that occured, AH-94 Stalker helicopters, A-10C Thunderbolt II fighters, A-13A Viper fighters, AH-66A Commanche helicopters, AH-64D Apache Longbow helicopters, MV-24B Bulldog transports, A-14A Buzzard fighters, F-31B Tornado GAV fighters, and F-16G Super Falcon fighters were taking off, armed with CAS loadouts, which included iron and cluster bombers, laser-guided bombs in the weight range of five hundred to one thousand pounds, CRV7 rocket pods, Maverick missiles, Brimstone missiles, and Zombie missiles. The goal was to pulverize whatever elements were left of the Quebecoi Army. Reconnaissance revealed that Highway 133 was loaded with tanks and vehicles, a mere two kilometers from the Layartebian border. It would be easy pickings. Artillery would also be used. The first shots weren't those from the aircraft but rather rockets fired from the Devestator and Boar systems as well as 155 millimeter submunition, guided, and HE shells from howitzers. The barrage would be quick, silent, and efficient. Whatever was left would be handled by the Air Force fighters and Army helicopters.

After four days of continued bombardment from the air and land, the land of Quebec was in ruins. The enemy had little left and military planners and strategists doubted that, when the ground invasion began on the eleventh day, the enemy would even have anything left to fight with, let alone the morale to fight. SOF, paratroopers, and BOF forces inside Quebec had scored the most "kills," so to speak. They had taken out nearly 40 vehicles, most of them transports, accounted for at least 2,000 deaths, and secured 50 high-value targets! Since the Quebecois had no air force or even any real air defense grid left, C-17s and C-130s delivered supplies without fear of being shot at or shot down.

F-22A Raptors on CAP duty rarely even were called to investigate a "potential" enemy aircraft. Their pilots had kept themselves busy by reading in flight or sleeping. Two even managed to play cards on PDAs while in flight. It kept morale high, especially on boring missions. The top ace of the war was, in fact, an F-22A pilot, Major Benjamin Lee Archer. He scored 8 air to air kills, two with guns, four with AIM-204A Escape missiles, and two more with AIM-120D-2 AMRAAM missiles. All of them were confirmed. In addition, he had been responsible for, on one mission, while carrying eight 250 pound SDB bombs, for taking out four aircraft on the ground, two AAA guns, and a pair of trucks. Both trucks were carrying high value targets. For his exploits, he was, essentially, the war hero for the ILAF and he recieved the Air Force Cross, two Silver Stars, and an Air Medal. He recieved this all within four days of actual combat, an impressive feat. He was a true ace. In total, now, he had nine air to air kills, the other coming from a skirmish with rebel forces in Guantánamo, Cuba, during Operation Lobster Claw. One more kill would make him a double ace and worthy of yet another Air Medal.

As the ILAF continued their flights, bombing targets that were either ineffectively hit or not hit at all, reconnaissance and BDA kept constant. The enemy had little left. Thermobaric munitions used throughout the country against possible underground tunnels were very effective. Using FLIR, helicopters would identify possible tunnels and call in aerial bombardment. Some even used their own thermobaric missiles to take out softer targets.

However, the war had a cost for the ILM. They had lost two F-16G Super Falcons, one to a SAM, three UH-60M Black Hawks, all to ground fire, and a pair of F-26A Typhoons, to aerial combat. From the seven downed aircraft, they had lost ten men, most of them aboard the Black Hawks.

OOC: Have you launched the underground bombs yet?

Eastmain

A war of attrition set in as the Romans kept to the outside in their struggle at Eastmain. The fires made sight difficult, and since the Quebecois were hiding in buildings they couldn't be easily spotted. They were able to confirm a few kills, but they weren't able to advance in the town at all.

The only good news came that the 5th Legion had secured Waskaganish, meaning that the Legion could advance to Eastmain to provide support, leaving a Century behind. However, they wouldn't be there for a few hours, so the best Rome could do was stand their ground.

Wemindji

When the 7th Legion arrived at Wemindji, the Romans found that the Cree had already driven the Quebecois out. However, instead of finding hospitable Natives like the ones at Waskaganish, the Romans found a group that became hostile towards them. No matter how much the Legion pledged that they were there to support them, the Natives were insistant on fighting. The Romans were now caught in a Catch-22: if they fought the Natives, they'd incur the wraith of the Waskaganish Cree who wouldn't like the Romans attacking their own brethren, but at the same time, Rome had a job to do. Sullus immediately called to arrage for talks between Rome and the Wemindji Cree, with Waskaganish Cree to assist. Hopefully it would be enough to avert a disastrous situation.

Montreal

As the news came in that the Philipsburg defences were obliterated without a single Layartebian casualty, the Montreal Army could only sit and wait, with the city above them being destroyed. They had enough food and oxygen tanks for a month, but the underground network was feared too elaborate for supplies to be brought to everyone should the Layartebians "break the chain". However, little did they know they would be in for a surprise greater than they could have imagined.

OOC: Yes I've begun dropping the thermobaric warheads.

The first thermobaric bombs used during the war were dropped from high-altitude F-16G Super Falcons and F-19A Ghostriders during the wee hours of the morning on the fourth day. Since then, four days later, now the eighth day, between one hundred and two hundred and sixty had been dropped in some form or another. Most of them were delivered in 2,000 pound JDAM II bombs but some were delivered in the ultra-penetrator 250 pound JDAM II bombs and anti-tank missiles fired from helicopters and aircraft, these having the least amount of penetration against the hardened tunnels underneath the city.

Eight days of fighting brought the enemy to their knees, so to speak. The Romans punched holes in the Quebecoi resistance in their small corner near James Bay whilst the Layartebian military had only maintained air and artillery strikes. Missile artillery units had already been reloaded four to eight times. Their missiles were bound to annihilate their targets, especially since fuel-air explosives, high-explosives, and cluster warheads were used in conjunction with tons of incendiary munitions.

The incendiary munitions of the war were first used on the eighth day and to much effect. However, there was a significant chance that they would be used again, after the ground campaign began. The Quebecois were resilient people. They were going to fight the Layartebians tooth and nail and the Layartebians were prepared for it. When the ground invasion began in just seventy-two hours, the army would be attacking convoys, tanks, and platoons that had been shelled into oblivion by artillery and air strikes, that had no resupply, that had serious fatigue, and that had morale so low it was a wonder they would even stand up to surrender. Mass surrenders were expected throughout the campaign and the army was ready for them. Paratroopers and SOF soldiers working in country already had secured at least 300 POWs and they had flown them back to New York for interrogation and holding. It was likely that they would eventually be released but whatever information could be had from them would be had.

The eighth day dawned just like any other ones. Fighters and bombers continued their relentless attacks against targets still not hit or not hit enough. Attack helicopters struck at ground convoys, tanks, and soldiers. Transport helicopters delivered supplies to paratroopers and SOF soldiers. Reconnaissance aircraft flew. Artillery and missiles flew too. It was just like the past eight and the enemy would begin to realize that the Empire could do this for as long as was necessary.

"What the heck?" The Montreal soldiers were flabbergasted as the first thermobaric bombs were dropped, tearing a hole through their beloved subway network. Several hundred died instantly, while the rest were scrambling after the Layartebians tore a hole they never saw coming.

Meanwhile, above ground The Voice was in tough against the Quebec militia. Both sides had so far lost 1,000 soldiers, but the Quebecois held their ground in the street fighting and even began to encircle The Voice's positions. The Voice were hoping for a Layartebian advance soon, since that was beginning to be their only hope for victory.

James Bay

Reports came in that Wemindji was now secure, with the Cree there agreeing to terms with their Roman occupiers. This now meant that Rome could divert all its resources to taking Eastmain, which was getting more complicated by the minute. The 6th Legion finally was able to enter the Reserve, but they had yet to reach the curve in the road (http://map.web.mapquest.com/?e=9&GetMapDataDirect=Gme5diw%2ca%3a9u12%3b%40%24s1%2d2w0w72%26%3dtg%2147n067%3ah%2dbg5ryg%26z%40nd0ta0%4 02x5y8%3a9uy2%3bu%24nu67%7c%26a7aq%40%24%3a%26%408l%210bx167%3a%29zy%26duz0u6%24%3a%26ur2u%2da%7c%26 yt29%40%24). A few Romans overheard what they thought was movement in the sewers, but they weren't sure, so a team was assembled to investigate. This was also the first the Romans had heard of the Layartebians' bombs, and Sullus begun to inquire about the availability of the bomb. "The Roman Army could sure use it."

OOC: So am I allowed to find 'The Voice' or will it not be located?

OOC: So am I allowed to find 'The Voice' or will it not be located?

OOC: They're actually on your side- they represent the English minority in Montreal, and they're battling the French-speaking majority. They're waiting for you to come to Montreal so you can help them beat the Quebecois.

OOC: They're actually on your side- they represent the English minority in Montreal, and they're battling the French-speaking majority. They're waiting for you to come to Montreal so you can help them beat the Quebecois.

OOC: I thought The Voice was like RTLM telling the people to rise up against the Empire.

OOC: I thought The Voice was like RTLM telling the people to rise up against the Empire.

OOC: It's a subplot. The English minority- of which my best friend is a part of- thinks the French have become too powerful in Quebec. The Voice personifies that.

OOC: It's a subplot. The English minority- of which my best friend is a part of- thinks the French have become too powerful in Quebec. The Voice personifies that.

OOC: Wow. Got confused along the way there. Alright I canned that post since it is obviously wrong and I will repost something with the EC-130J doing something else because the picture is too awesome not to use.

OOC: As a note, I should post something this weekend. I've been busy this week.

OOC: Okay. I'll begin the seige next. It'll be fast like Desert Storm was and shouldn't last more than 100 hours. I'll put the EC-130 in the air again to find the location of rebel radio transmissions and then vector in some fighters armed with nasty warheads.

An EC-130J Commando Solo II was launched from New York to conduct PSYOP missions over Montreal. The enemy was still communicating quite effectively with the various militia groups throughout the country and that had to be stopped. As the thermobaric bombs tore through and into rebel hideouts, killing hundreds of them at each strike, the militiamen throughout the country began to mass. With less than six hours before the land invasion was set to begin, the military wanted to make sure that the communications of the enemy would be severely jammed.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/ec130j.jpg

The typical flight profile called for the EC-130J to fly on an orbit pattern around Montreal with two missions. The first would be to triangulate the location of the broadcasts, which had, thus far, eluded the Empire. The second would be to jam the signal and transmit propaganda in favor of the Empire, calling militiamen to lay down their arms and surrender to avoid certain death. Escort by a pair of F-22A Raptor aircraft, the flight would stay almost 20,000 feet off the ground, too high up to be seen by the naked eye, too high to be attacked by any air defenses left, and too high to be attacked by fighters, since there were none left.

Flying just under 300 miles per hour, at 20,000 feet, the Commando Solo II went to work. Its eleven man crew consisted of four pilots and navigators and seven enlisted men, who were loadmasters and mission specialists. They could broadcast on standard AM, FM, HF, TV and military communications bands. Preloaded videos and radio broadcasts would be sent out, along with leaflets dropped by fighters and bombers throughout the country. They all called for one thing: surrender. The alternative to surrender was death.

It could take twenty minutes, it could take four hours to get a fix on the position. They figured that it was definitely coming from Montreal or around Montreal, that was a given. The city had been battered by aerial bombardment and cruise missiles launched from ground-units and even naval units, albeit the cruise missiles from these two platforms were not in significant quantities.

Overall some 300 thermobaric bombs had been dropped throughout the country. AC-130H Spectre and AC-130U Spooky gunships were using their extremely sensitive FLIR and TV equipment to spot underground hideouts, directing air strikes. If anyone made it out, onto the surface, they would use their cannons to pummel the survivors. Anything in the sky with a FLIR was being used to locate and destroy these underground hideouts as CAP aircraft maintained a constant level of patrol and ground attack aircraft hit far more than just underground bunkers and tunnel networks.

It took three hours to triangulate the position but those three hours were well and wisely spent. The crew of the EC-130J got a GPS fix on the target and, using its powerful sensors, deduced that the transmission was coming from underneath the actual surface. This would not be a problem at all. An F-19 Ghostrider armed with two penetrating JDAM IIs and two thermobaric JDAM IIs was brought in to strike the position. One JDAM II would be dropped to penetrate the ground whilst the other followed just 4 seconds behind it. That one would unleash the powerful BLU-118/B thermobaric warhead on the enemy, sucking the air out of the immediate area and starting a fire so great that the enemy would instantly burn and smolder as the oxygen was depleted by the bomb. From 60,000 feet, the F-19A Ghostrider dropped its powerful payload, two bombs, each of them 2,000 pounds. It would take less than two minutes for the bombs to impact and then, it would be all over, for that hideout. The EC-130 would remain on station, hopping to find more communications. They could drop bombs like this all night and day long.

At 02:30 hours, local time, on December 25, the ground invasion began. Elements of the Imperial Layartebian Army steam rolled over the barricades put up by the Quebecois. Mine clearing vehicles and main battle tanks were out front, swept by infantry fighting vehicles, anti-tank vehicles, and light armored vehicles. The softest armored vehicles took up the center of the convoys, with main battle tanks and infantry fighting vehicles taking up the rears. Overhead, attack helicopters and support aircraft flew low, fast, and menacingly destroyed everything their FLIRs picked up.

They were prepared for and expecting mass surrenders from the entrenched troops, who had been out of communications, without supplies, without reinforcements, and without hope for the past ten days. Bombs echoed in the distance for those ten days and now they were landing right near them. Many were out of food and water, others were tired and worn out. For those ten days, assault helicopters made a show of keeping them wide awake during the nights, lowering their morale even further.

With all of that going on and the continued bombardment of Montreal and various other military targets throughout the country, it was doubtful that the enemy would be able to put up any fight or even have the will to do such a thing. Bombs fell, artillery whistled overhead, mortars screamed down, and bullets whizzed by the heads and the fox holes of the Quebecois. Some came out to surrender, only to be killed by incoming bullets. Some stayed in their holes and fired on the helicopters, only to be hit by CRV7 rockets or thermobaric or high-explosive warheads from Brimstone missiles. Others took cluster and incendiary bombs. The unlucky ones were killed by the concussion effects of nearby iron bombs, equipped with warheads of mass size. The ground war was expected to last up to one week and they hoped that inside of that week they would have Montreal completely secured. The attack was a five-pronged attack that would have Montreal surrounded by the second day, provided they didn't encounter any major resistance.

:: BUMP ::

If the Layartebians were hoping for a reaction for attacking Montreal on Christmas Day, they got it. Almost overnight, the barely 50,000-strong French-Canadian militias in Montreal swelled to 1,000,000, mostly armed with average machine guns, pitchforks and any other kind of weapon they could get their hands on. Practically everything was in flames, and gasoline was lined wherever they could place it. The Montrealers even took hockey sticks and pucks from the Montreal Forum to create more weapons, lining each with gasoline to increase their lethality. Their credo was to make the city burn, and they would at least achieve that.

The Voice saw the developments and began to scramble. They were pretty even before the Christmas Day attacks, but now they saw they were clearly overmatched. Voice Leader David Tremblay sent a messenger team to escape Montreal and find a way to get to either the Roman or Layartebian positions and request help. It is our only hope, he mused.

Meanwhile, in Eastmain the Romans managed to advance several hundred meters before being stopped. Sullus relayed another message to the Layartebians asking for a thermobaric bomb, because the Romans needed it with the heavy underground resistence:


Encryption Max
From: Q. Cornelius Sullus, Legate of the Canadian Legions
To: Imperial Layartebian Military Command
Re: Thermobaric Munitions

I am writing this to inquire about the availability of your thermobaric bomb. We have a situation here in Eastmain where we require its use, and we would either like to obtain one to use here or have a bomber of yours come by to drop one. Do not worry, we do have the situation under control- but without the bomb we do not have the overwhelming upper hand.

Thanks.

Montreal was close, so close that the armored cavalry could see it in the distance. In advance of the antiticipated attack against Montreal, fresh bombings against the city began. AC-130s stayed high, using their FLIR to spot fresh underground hideouts and had limited success. They would have more if they got lower but that would put them at risk for ground-launched missiles. They didn't want to have to try to evade Stingers or other like missiles so they stayed higher, using their powerful FLIR systems to train their guns and aerial bombardment against the suspected positions. Super Falcons and Razors did most of the bombing now, since stealth wasn't the greatest necessity anymore. The sustained air campaign had, thus far, turned every piece of major military equipment into charred skeletons.

At least 500 thermobaric bombs had been dropped on the country, many of those over both Montreal and Eastmain. The Romans pleaded for aide and they recieved it in spades, Super Falcons coming in from high angles of attack, engaging the rebel hideouts with fervor and fury and force. In the earliest hours of the invasion, Layartebian aircraft and helicopters put out another punishing series of attacks, aimed at destroying defensive burms and traps set along the roads to Montreal, as well as inside Montreal.

The ground forces expected to be at the limits of Montreal by the 20th hour. By the 48th, they planned to have the city surrounded and then they would lay seige to the city and work to their best abilities in order to take control of the city and eliminate the resistance within its confines. They wouldn't destroy the city if they didn't have to but if they needed to take out the city, they would. That wouldn't be a problem for them, albeit they wanted to save as much of it as possible. With wicked weather on the forecast for days, they were certainly at an advantage, still...

As soon as the bombs dropped in Eastmain, the Romans could feel momentum swing their way. The Quebecois- previously defiant and unfazed- were suddenly scrambling, trying to figure out how this "super weapon" had managed to thwart their defences. Within the hour the underground forces had surrendered to Roman troops, and two hours later the Romans were threatening the dam itself.

Meanwhile, Montreal was literally non-existant after yet another round of Layartebian bombings. Amidst the internal chaos was a mixed reaction to the results- The Voice cheered as it saw many of the monuments and buildings they viewed as part of the "Quebecois domination" crumble to the ground, while the Quebecois cried whilst seeing what remained of their tenuous hold on the city literally go up in smoke.

The fight inside the city started to intensify, forcing The Voice to run for cover. Their flight eventually led them to St. Joseph's Oratory (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Joseph%27s_Oratory) at the top of Mount Royal where they hastility set up smoke and semaphore signals in the hopes of alerting the Layartebian bombers of their distressed state. These Layartebians can't come soon enough can they? mulled Voice soldier Jimmy Fitzgerald, as he waited- like the rest of his brigade did- for the assistance they so desperately needed.

"Smoke! Smoke!" St. Joseph's Oratory had a cloud of smoke rising from it and as far as the artillery spotters and FAC controllers knew, the Oratory was not a target for any type of fire. The individuals seeing it this time just so happened to be a flight crew inside of an MH-60L Black Hawk, moving to drop in a team of Recon Force Marines. "Command Bravo. Command Bravo. This is Lottery 4. Come in over?"

"Roger that. Go ahead Lottery 4."

"We've got smoke at St. Joseph's Oratory. Looks like friendlies trying to signal us."

"Roger that. Report status of team?"

"Ready to go."

"Change orders to investigate. Insert Marines 400 meters west. Advise strong caution. Vectoring two Stalker gunships."

"Roger that." The MH-60L Black Hawk banked hard and headed to the west, descending as it did, putting the Marines down next to a burning gas station. It wasn't the safest place to drop them but the thick smoke from the fire shielded the area from prying eyes unless those eyes were within a few dozen feet. It was unlikely any where, especially from the looks of things. Quickly and quietly, the Marines made their way eastward, moving towards the Oratory. Overhead, Stalkers arrived, roaring through the air, banking to check out the individuals flagging them down. They didn't appear hostile but who knew, the Quebecois could be switching tactics. In the distance, two explosions shook the city, both from JDAM II bombs dropped against rebel positions firing on incoming armor and artillery. The situation in the city was disgusting. It had been cut off for well over a week, since the bombings began. Garbage piled high and disease and stink ravaged the streets. It didn't look nearly as bad as Kaliningrad did during that war or the Yucatán but it was no happy village. Interviews with fleeing residents and surrendering soldiers used only one word, "Weltschmerz" to describe it, expressing nothing but pure sadness over the evils of humanity, namely war.

The Force Recon Marines arrived at the Oratory in minutes, carefully checking out the situation. They were horribly outnumbered, a brigade versus eight but, at the same time, they hadn't announced their presence yet. They would observe slightly as an MH-6J Little Bird vectoring in, landing a Colonel, an unimportant one at that, to make communication with those there. If they turned out to be Quebecois laying a trap they would be dealt with quickly and effectively. Flying high above was an MC-130H Combat Talon II carrying a single bomb, the GBU-43/B MOAB, a 21,700 pound bomb with a 18,700 pound warhead, guided by GPS and allowed to freefall. The bomb could level everything for a few hundred feet. Four hundred was the given amount but everyone knew that was a severe understatement. It was likely that everything for at least a thousand feet in any direction to perhaps fifteen hundred feet, would suddenly cease to exist. If things soured, this would be the end for the Oratory.

The Little Bird landed a few meters away and the Colonel stepped out. Colonel Lajon was a native Alabaman and spoke with a thick southern accent. He strode out, two bodyguards at his sides, his forty-five caliber sidearm unstrapped, and his right hand on the handle. If he needed to pull the weapon he would and though he knew that he would die, he would take a few out on his way to the netherworld. "Greetings. My name is Colonel Lajon. Would you prefer to speak in English or French? I hope English as my French is atrocious." He smiled and looked around.

OOC: You can RP the conversation if you want. I don't mind.

OOC: We need to just finish this up. This is taking too long. I wanted to be done with the first part by Thanksgiving so we're way behind. I'd like to move onto Part II.

When the seige of Montreal began in force it was nothing like anything ever seen. Kaliningrad was suddenly a distant memory that wasn't near as bad as this one. The number of rebels inside the city was massive and they had no tactic that would work thoroughly except systematically seeking them out and destroying them, one by one. Artillery and guided bombs would be the biggest killer, being trained in on targets spotted through FLIR from gunships and helicopters. Satellites using thermal scans and high-resolution imaging would be used to train in even more artillery and bomb strikes. Layartebian soldiers waiting on the outskirts of the city were given the green light to attack soon enough. With fires raging inside from secondary detonations and whatever had been laid in the streets and buildings, probably gasoline, smoke ascending to the heights, and an eerie silence echoing throughout the streets, the soldiers began their ingress. They closed in on the city, attacking from nearly every direction, both above and on the ground. Helicopters inserted specialist teams within the city, on the highest points. Special Forces were already inside, coordinating air strikes and laying the fire down.

The city was eerie, something out of a bad war movie. Smoke kept the sun from casting any rays of light onto the streets below and the fires glowed for the only source of light on the ground. Bodies were stretched out everywhere, in grotesque positions and putrid conditions. Garbage piled high, most of it burning from the fires. The stench of death, filth, and gasoline tore through the eye irritating smoke and throat burning odors. The caustic smoke of the conflagration cast a grim reminder of the Weltschmerz being felt by everyone there. The occassional roar and buzz of helicopters and jets overhead echoed down on the street below but the screams, dull roars, and thuds from the various air and artillery strikes drowned out anything else that could possibly be heard on the ground.

Tens of thousands of soldiers moved inward, behind the cover of their tanks and armored vehicles. Bullets plinked against their hulls and soldiers returned fire. The massive guns of the tanks made up for any problems finding the exact locations of enemy soldiers. One hundred and twenty and one hundred and thirty-five millimeter guns of the Emperors made everything even. The Quebecois had learned from those who fought in other cities before them, using shoot and scoot tactics, which were, unfortuantely for them, countered by the extremely awesome ability of the tanks to fire quickly, decimating an entire floor of a structure with a single shot. Chain guns from Bradleys and other IFVs made for excellent high-rate fire weapons, tearing through other structures and those inside of them.

Heavy machine guns on armored personnel carriers liquified their victims instantly upon impact. Flesh splattered on the walls and on the pavement, blood and guts lying everywhere. Death was just overpowering throughout the city and there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do about it, yet. The Quebecois were certainly going to put up a fight but they were soon to be overpowered. The heavy armor and artillery of the Layartebians forged ahead and made quick work of the bad guys. Helicopters trained their guns and missiles against structures that were, without a doubt, major targets. It was almost as if they were going to have to level the city, building by building, in order to secure it and though that wasn't in the battleplan, it seemed as if it was being written in, block by block, kill by kill, strike by strike.

St. Joseph's Oratory

"Mr. Lajon, it's great to see you," said Tremblay in unaccented English. "We are The Voice of Canada, an underground militia representing the oppressed English-speaking minority here in Quebec. We saw your invasion as an opportunity for us to break out and take back what is rightfully ours. The Quebecois abuse us and for years we held back. No more. However, we need your help- without you we are doomed."
Lajon smiled at the appeal to vanity, but he wasn't sure if it was a trick. "Tell me, what do I get out of this?"
"Very simple. Us."
"We have more than enough men to do this job. You'll have to do better than that."
"Well, we know this city like the back of our hands. You say the Quebecois are underground? We will personally help you find them. We know what makes them tick, what gets them going. Trust me, Colonel, we have savoured this chance to defeat Quebec for a long time. You want us on your team. He said it with such a conviction that Col. Lajon couldn't help but be convinced. "All right," he replied, "Take us to them."

Eastmain
"Good job gang," said Sullus. "Let's depart." He left behind the orders for the Cohorts that would stay behind to guard the outposts and then proceeded to direct his troops along the way to the Ontario border.

Along the way, Sullus' pack picked up a clue that might lead them to Boisclair's location. By the side of the road, a soldier noticed what appeared to be a business card caught in the bushes. The Romans had a look at it and realized this wasn't just a business card- it was a contact card. They found it had Boisclair's personal cell phone number and E-Mail address on it, items which would be valuable in finding Boisclair's eventual location. Sullus figured that he would forward the card to Roman Intelligence Agency for them to examine it and hope it would lead them to Boisclair. It's worth a shot.

Montreal

The Quebecois decided to take a gamble. The Layartebians took not one step towards their capital- like they had anticipated- so they decided to throw everything they had at them and encase them in their own siege. They weren't sure how they'd do it with just sixty military vehicles, but by enlisting the peoples of the surrounding towns, they were at least able to get thousands of non-military vehicles involved. They spent inordinate amount of time furiously making Molotov cocktails to throw at the Layartebian soldiers, for it was their only hope. The plan was to encircle the city and fire at will on any Layartebian target they could find. If they succeeded, they'd drive the Layartebians out of the war. If they failed, the Military of Quebec wouldn't be able to stop a Layartebian advance on Quebec City- but, they hoped, the hearts of the Quebecois would allow their militias to continue the resistance. Quebec would not die in vain.

OOC: I'm back home in Alliston so I'm not going to be able to be online for much of the day. Having said that, I apologize for the delay.

Second of all, if you want to RP the Voice leading your soldiers through the subway tunnels to the Quebecois soldiers, go right ahead.

Colonel Lajon hastily organized the Voice forces and arranged for them to be divided amongst the various Special Forces groups and Specialist teams throughout the city, the ones that had entered the den of Satan long before. He even had arranged for still more to take up with the regular infantry and cavalry now on the outskirts of the city. They moved through the suburbs like a wildfire moves through a dry forest and now they were ready to move into the city. Helicopters and AC-130 gunships were the major element of firepower being drawn down onto the city. The Quebecois had some vehicles and they were easily seen through FLIR and MMW, the primary detection systems of helicopters and AC-130s. It was a wonder they had survived this long and it was a given that they would survive no longer. Stalkers and attack helicopters targetted the vehicles with their Brimstones, guns, and rockets. Each rocket and missile found their mark beautifully and just added to the chaos, destruction, and disgustingness of the city. Super Falcons came down with Maverick missiles and fired them against more vehicles and enemy positions from five to six miles away, hitting with unparalleled accuracy.

Tremblay, who was leading the Voice forces was now sitting in the main command center just sixteen miles out of Montreal, where Layartebian defenses were at their strongest. "The city is a disaster right now. The rebels have poured gasoline everywhere, they have set many booby traps. They are definitely going to put up a stand. Now you have dropped bombs on the underground, great bombs that suck out the air and start fires. Those bombs will be the most effective. We need to have those dropped on various positions throughout the city. Here. Let me see this map." He pulled out a small pencil and looked down at the map. "Here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here." He leaned back up. "These sixteen positions are junctions, major ones at that. The rebels have a network of tunnels throughout the city and this network obviously comes to various junctions. These sixteen are the most major ones and have yet to be hit. If you can get in there and drop bombs on these positions you can do some major damage. I mean major."

"Very well Mr. Tremblay. I'll have an airstrike coordinated. What type of resistance are we looking at?"

"In terms of people?"

"People and armor."

"Armor?"

"To get to the tunnel."

"Oh. Yes. Well there could be hundreds of thousands of people. I'm not too sure but I doubt it is a low number. The tunnels can only hold so much and there are many more on the surface though your soldiers have already begun to limit their numbers above ground. Underground, I'm not sure, but a lot. Now as far as resistance to get to the tunnels. They are the sewers of the city. A few feet of pavement and you're inside of them."

"Excellent."

"That help?"

"Yes. Now we're going to coordinate this strike immediately."

"What are you bringing down?"

"Enough firepower to level a third world country."

"My men are..."

"Your men and our men are safe. They will know where the strikes are coming. From this map over here we can tell where each and every one of our soldiers are."

"Understood."

"Now. ATO. Give me a listing of what we have." Within seconds, a full listing of every available aircraft and there were many of them. Twenty-four Super Falcons, eleven Stalkers, thirty-nine Typhoons, two Incubus', forty Tornado GAVs, and eleven Ravens were alll in the immediate proximity, all of them armed with thermobaric JDAM II bombs. They had enough bombs to hit each and every position eighty times over and they would do just that, although not eighty times. "Sit tight Mr. Tremblay and watch." Orders went out to all ground teams and immediately, they all took cover as the aircraft screamed in from thousands of feet in the air, dropping their bombs on target and on time. Each bomb that fell found their marks and each mark was one of those junctions. Flames erupted throughout the city as the bombs hit the tunnel junctions, pierced the streets, and went off inside the tunnels. Fires flooded the tunnels after the oxygen was sucked out. Thousands had to have been wiped out immediately and those who weren't, were completed cut off by the collapsed streets and tunnels. Now it was time to attack! Armor began to move up and move inward as SOF and Specialist teams pounded the hardest, entering the tunnels, led by the Voice forces.

Montreal

The Layartebians were good with their shooting- not one Quebecois vehicle survived the Layartebian counter-attack, but the Quebecois couldn't care less- just as soon as one was shot down another came to take its place. Estimates were showing that as many as two-thirds of Quebec's 6 million people of military age enlisted in some sort of militia for the Quebecois, and they drove in waves to Montreal, literally decimating some areas.

Underground, the battle wasn't going very well. The Layartebians made quick advances in the tunnels with help from The Voice. Still, what remained stood their ground, refusing to let their morale be sapped along with their breath. It was a difficult fight, but each of them made sure that whatever gains the Layartebians made was through blood. Not one would be surrendering on this day.

Toronto

"The cell phone data has come online," said Roman Intelligence Agency technology expert L. Aemilius Virilius. "The cell phone seems to be coming from central Quebec."
"Where exactly?" inquired Sullus.
"Chibou-, Chibougamau? I think that's how you say it." Virilius let out a chuckle as he pointed to the cell phone's location.
"Sloppy I must say. He knows he's on the run yet he gives us an opportunity to track him. How careless."
"Well, he may have left behind ministers back in Quebec City. He'd have to call them then."
"Inform the Layartebians then. I shall assemble a force that will have the task of assisting in the capture of Andre Boisclair."
Virilius did so:

-Encryption Max-
From: L. Aemilius Virilius, Technology Expert, Roman Intelligence Agency
To: Layartebian Ministry of Intelligence

Our Intelligence staff have uncovered what we believe are leads to the whereabouts of Quebecois leader Andre Boisclair in the form of recovered cell phone records. They are enclosed with this message.

-Encryption Max-
From: Minister of Intelligence
To: L. Aemilius Virilius, Technology Expert, Roman Intelligence Agency

The Empire is pleased with this information. We do; however, succeede the responsibility of Mr. Boisclair to you and your forces. We have little use for him and though we hold him as a target and a criminal for his resistance to our annexation, we cannot hold this against him. We will aide you as you see fit but we understand that he is more of an enemy to you than he is to us.

Land wasn't gained in terms of blocks or miles. It was gained in terms of feet and inches. Underground, each and every step was met with fierce resistance. Specialist teams fighting inside of the tunnels were equipped with the proper equipment for tunnel fighting and wound up putting a significant amount of hurt on the enemy, though they had taken some casualties themselves, even if it was an estimated 2% of what they were dishing out. The kill ratios were so high that it was considered a slaughter but the Quebecois just kept sending them. At least six million people were capable of fighting for the military of Quebec and intelligence guessed that each and every one of them was within the city limits of Montreal, a sad and gripping situation that they had to deal with, regardless of the situation. There were no POWs so far and the Layartebian command estimated that they would have, at the end of the war, if they were lucky, 100 POWs, if even that many. The Quebecois were fierce fighters but their warrior code was shallow. Their desire to die for their country lay more in their desire to not be Layartebian subjects than in any code, not like the Germanians, whom the Empire would never fight, thankfully.

The sun went down eventually and it was as if it was never up. The rays of light never reached the street, blocked out by the smoke and fire of the city. With armor moving inward and decimating everything their FLIR sensors picked up. With December 29, dawning on the horizon as the sun fell, the invading army situated itself on three main counter attack positions within the city, hitting from various points of entry. Everything behind them was secure though pockets of resistance in the countryside still existed. Those were being routed out quickly and effectively by Marines, who had been enlisted to cover the rear points, in case the Quebecois tried a retreat. If they did, they were going to run into some 45,000 Marines, all of them thirsty for blood and revenge.

Helicopters and fighters continued their assault on the city, dropping their bombs, mainly thermobaric-type warheads, on junctions, buildings, and various other targets throughout the city. They aimed for the most packed tunnel areas. When Specialist teams drove the resistance into large pockets, they hung back, took cover, and called in an airstrike. They were highly effective and they ensured that the effects of the bombs wouldn't affect them by taking significant cover and using small oxygen tanks for momentary breathing whilst the bombs detonated. It was going to be an effective tactic, one that the resistance wouldn't catch onto, they hoped.

Nobody grinned more than Gilles Duceppe at the thought of putting Boisclair on trial in Toronto. He saw Boisclair as the man who betrayed him and now it was his turn to seek revenge to a man who had desecrated not only his character but also his country.

He wholeheartedly appreciated the Romans' plans to proceed to Chibougamau to apprehend Boisclair and his ministers. How Boisclair was so careless as to enable the Romans to track his cell phone he'll never know, but he was happy that he was- this was a moment he'd cherish for the rest of his life.

The team- consisting of about 100 Special Operations soldiers- was called "Operation: Habitant" in honour of the nickname ("Habs") for Quebec's most famous hockey team, the Montreal Canadiens. They embarked from Base Borden shortly after 1PM, intending to arrive at Chibougamau at 4AM. They knew that they would have to do a bit of rummaging throughout the town since none of them knew Boisclair's exact position, but they were hopeful to find it before dawn so they could give the Quebecois President and his staff a rude awakening.

At 3:56AM, the Romans appeared to have found their quarry. Just outside of the town, they encountered a small post with a fleur-de-lis sticking from a rock formation. They probably didn't think we would be coming thought Sullus. No wonder they made it so easy for us. Still, Sullus ordered his troops to proceed with caution, lest they be faced with a "too-good-to-be-true" scenario.

Habitant soon discovered that beneath the flag was a door that opened the rock formation to a secret chamber. Fifty of the soldiers proceeded inside the chamber, while the rest stayed above ground hiding among the rockers to provide cover. They were not worried about much resistance since these were politicians, not soldiers, but they were still prepared for a fight. Fortunately for them, they managed to apprehend everyone inside the chamber including the previously reclusive Andre Boisclair.

However, the soldiers weren't finished after obtaining Boisclair. They made it their mission to proceed southward to Quebec City to obtain the government records in hopes of building a case against the Quebecois politicians, informing the Layartebians of their movements. Still, that would be the easy part- the hard part was catching Boisclair, and that they did with ease.

Meanwhile, Montreal was effectively wiped off the map, as was every other Quebecois city. The militias were fervent but disorganized, as wave after wave of people converged on the city to attack the Layartebians without much though. Some saw the Marines converge on the city and moved to meet them, even though they were not prepared to fight them. Still, their numbers grew, as literally every Quebecois was getting into the act- children and teenagers could be seen pelting the Layartebian soldiers with rocks, and some of them- some no older than four years old- were seen holding and even firing guns at the Layartebian soldiers. By the end of the war, most would figure that Quebec's population would decrease from 8 million to a staggering 2 million, about half of which would be French-Canadian, because the amount of people were now opposing their occupiers. None of them stood a chance, but it told volumes of the Quebecois' resiliency, showing the lengths the people went to preserve their democracy in the face of an impending dictatorship. Somewhere, the RLA are smiling, thought Boisclair in his jail cell later that night. The Layartebians may not be defeated, but the resiliency of the Quebecois will no doubt be an inspiration for anyone wishing to oppose their tyrannical ways- because we did not give up. We may be dead after this, but our spirit will live on.

The war lasted another week and a half, Montreal finally becoming secure on January 1, 2006. The Quebecois fought bravely and fiercly and fought right up until the end. Pockets of resistance still existed throughout the country but it was otherwise secured and in Layartebian control. The price for victory had been costly for the Layartebians. They lost no fewer than 82 aircraft, including helicopters, 200 vehicles, and at least 4,500 soldiers. Many were still unaccounted for and the possibility of POWs existed still. For the Quebecois, however, they had lost a vast amount of people. The war was definitely one sided. The entire Quebecoi military had been wiped off the map, not one shred of equipment survived to 2006. At least 90% of its personnel had been killed or captured by the Layartebians. Though the true number of casualties would never be fathomed, it was estimated to be in excess of 6 million. Soldiers were under strict orders not to engage civilians but those with guns weren't civilians, even if they didn't wear a uniform.

The Illuminati group had been captured, Boisclair was sitting in a Roman jail somewhere, and the leaders of the Quebecoi military had all been killed. Quebec was secured and Layartebian politicians met up with pro-Layartebian elements within Quebec, including the Voice forces. Things had calmed down and now it was just a seek & destroy type campaign where smaller groups of Layartebian specialist teams hunted out resistance throughout the country. There would be an insurgency for some time following but overall, it would be ineffective.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Chapter Seven: Colorblind

December 15: Layartebian forces begin aerial attack on Quebec at 0200 local time.
December 25: Ground war against Quebec begins at 0230 local time.
December 30: Boisclair captured by Roman forces.
January 1, 2006: Quebec War over. Montreal secure.


Confirmed Body Count: 1,122
Unconfirmed Body Count: 1,364+

Chapter VIII: Gone Away

Things were quiet in Clinton, Alabama on the morning of January 21. At 06:00, RLA leaders awoke and went about their business, planning their next series of attacks against the Empire, only to be thwarted by 10:00, when the Battle of Clinton officially began. It would last three days.

The captured Illuminati Gray Fox team had yielded a lot of information than originally hoped. Interrogators had gotten enough information out of them to capture another sixteen high-value RLA leaders. The Illuminati remained hidden throughout the entire mess, slowly withdrawing their presence from the RLA as news of captures and the failure of Quebec fell through their ranks. Their Freemason counterparts, who were always out and around, hid them well. They knew what was coming and they knew that it was only a matter of time before the Layartebian military found the compound and attacked it and they didn't want to be there for it. The RLA were their pawns and if they took the fall that was okay. If they lost any more of their mercs or leaders then they would have serious problems to face. Layartebian interrogators were notorious for extracting information. Sometimes they used torture, sometimes they didn't even have to, it all depended on the situation and they had a psychological profile on everyone within twenty-four hours and it was only a little bit longer before they cracked.

Gray Fox had cracked two weeks prior and immediately, the information was taken and put to good use. Once the sixteen RLA members were captured, they cracked in half the time and soon the RLA compound was exposed, albeit not publically. The government wanted to make this as much of a surprise attack as they could. They used satellite reconnaissance in the form of imagry and thermal scans to identify underground tunnels, escape routes, and possible incursion routes. High-altitude spyplanes captured detailed imagry that would enable them to find out every possible incursion route. When they recieved the blueprints for the compound, they would devise the most effective attack plan ever.

The order of battle was immense and included air and land support and all of them were airborne units, highly trained and capable. They would, naturally, be backed up by civilian SWAT teams and military SOF groups. A single BOF team was also there and they were none other than Force Falcon Team One, led by Colonel Delaney. The airborne units were specialists at what they did and they had significant amounts of armor to use, all of it powerful and deadly, especially against the RLA. They were going to use a full battalion of airborne soldiers, mixed with four SOF teams from Delta Force, forty-two SWAT officers, and one BOF team, putting a total of 1,000 men on the ground plus respective equipment. Most of the men would be driven in and flown in but they would all assemble around the compound, to put a world of hurt on the RLA. For vehicles, they were bringing 40 M2008A1 Dingo APVs, 40 M2010A1 Bushmaster IMVs, 24 M2015A1 Cobra APCs, 6 M2015A2 Cobra MRTRs, 6 M2015A3 Cobra ATs, 4 M2023A5 Stryker MEVs, 4 M2023A6 Stryker ESVs, 2 M2023A7 Striker C3s, 12 M2029A1 Namtaru LBTs, and 24 5-ton trucks. For aircraft, they were bringing in a light contingency but an effective one. They had 8 AH-6J Little Birds, 2 AH-94A Stalkers, 4 UH-60M Black Hawks, and 8 UH-96A Panthers, all of them available for tasking against the compound. They were definitely bringing in far more firepower than was necessary but they wanted to make sure that the RLA did not get away. It was estimate that anywhere from 800 and 1,400 people occupied the RLA compound.

The whole group assembled 12 miles away, in an abandoned mining village, preparing for the assault, which would be lead by Lieutenant Colonel Sean McCormick, an Irish native but also a genius when it came to tactics. He had coordinated at least four assaults in the past against highly fortified positions where the odds were so against him and his battalion that it was protocol to wait for reinforcements. He was disgusted by the idea of having to wait and led the assaults personally. Between the four of them he lost only twelve men, two to friendly fire. Had he been on the ground at St. Paul's Boarding School, it would have been a much different outcome. Nonetheless, he was here, coordinating his attack with both civilian law enforcement and federal law enforcement. It was a joint operation in massive proportions and it was going to go well, or so he hoped.

At 09:40 the convoy began its move towards Clinton. They had to move at a maximum speed of 40 miles per hour because of the terrain and because of the slowness of some of their vehicles, but they were moving fast enough to be there before the RLA could do anything about it. A reconnaissance satellite, high above the compound, was already pumping out a live feed of the compound and they didn't have a clue. Sitting around the compound were the four SOF teams, one BOF team, and three SWAT groups. Whereas the SOF and BOF teams operated with 8 men per team, SWAT groups only operated with 6, still providing a good amount of firepower on the compound, if necessary; however, their orders were to remain completely undetected and only to observe and so they did, using the camoflauge of the surrounding grass and trees to conceal themselves. The fifty-eight of them, alone, could decimate the compound from their positions but that wasn't their tasking. The SWAT teams all had at two sniper rifles per team, the four SOF teams had at least two but it didn't matter, their assault rifles could reach out and hit the compound with deadly accuracy, and the BOF team was overequipped, if anything. They had two sniper rifles within, two machine guns, three assault rifles, and a single shotgun. They were there for business and they meant it.

In the lead vehicle, an M2008A1 Dingo APV, armed with a mounted 15.5 millimeter heavy machine gun, LTC. McCormick sat comfortably, his kevlar vest tight up around his neck but not too much that he couldn't move, breathe, or speak. He was more Irish than anyone could imagine. His whole ancestry began on the island of Ireland and it would end there as well. His wife, his two sons, both of them had been born in Ireland and so would their children and their children. He had joined the army when Ireland first became a republic and had never looked back, rising quickly through the ranks. He and his forces had led countless assaults and fought fiercly through countless battles, becomming one of the most decorated units in the Empire. "Big Duke. Big Duke. This is Saber. We're on the roll. Over." He said into the radio set as his Dingo began to move out of the marshalling area.

"Roger that Saber. Cleared to commence Operation Forerunner. Over."

"Roger that. Operation Forerunner has begun. ETA is 18 minutes. Over."

"Roger that Saber. Report on site. Over."

"Roger that. Saber out." He smiled at his driver as they turned out of the area, the massive convoy behind him, shaking the ground as it moved. "I live for this shit." He said with his thick Irish accent. "I hope you're ready. Echo Niner. Echo Niner. Saber element. Come in. Over."

"Saber element. We're here. Over." The message was whispered and the radio set turned low. LTC. McCormick was communicating directly with Colonel Delaney and his team, who had situated themselves four hundred meters southwest of the main entrance to the compound, on a slight embankment, giving them a slight height advantage over the main walls.

"Echo Niner. Report status. Over."

"Nothing has changed. Over."

"Roger that. We're E-T-A 18 minutes. Over."

"Understood. Out." Colonel Delaney switched channels and now he was keyed into every group on the ground. "All units. All units." There was silence for a second and then he heard several microphone clicks, meaning that all units had heard him. "Convoy inbound. ETA 18 minutes. Out." The SOF and SWAT teams got comfortable as the ground convoy moved towards the compound. They arrived at 10:02, a little late but only because of terrain. Quickly, they worked to encircle the compound, which had been alerted to their presence once they came into visual view of the highest windows. Gunfire began immediately and the RLA shot out two rockets at the vehicles almost instantly, missing both times. The battle had begun.

"We're taking fire!" The phrase echoed through the radiowaves like a bad omen. The RLA had a massive arms cache within the facility and they were shooting everything they had at everything that moved outside. The tanks and armored vehicles returned fire immediately, sending at least a hundred and fifty rounds ranging from 7.62 millimeter to 105 millimeter into the compound within the first few seconds, completely decimating one wing, causing its collapse. The RLA could not stop the assault and they were powerless to stop the surrounding vehicles, which were all taking up positions no closer than 400 meters to the compound. The manuever was accomplishd in six minutes but saw the deaths of eight soldiers, mostly from "lucky" shots as they would be called.

When it was all over, the RLA began to ease off and so did the airborne soldiers. They were not cleared to enter the compound and as the firefight dwindled down they all began to wonder just how many of the RLA terrorists they had killed. Bullet holes riddled everything on the outside and they knew that they had caused significant damage, enough within six minutes to push everyone away from the window.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/compound-03.jpg

LTC. McCormick looked around at the scene and smiled as he took up his command center behind one of the Strykers. The C3 vehicle would provide accurate and reliable assistance for them but it was too small for a command center and they didn't need to be mobile. "Well. We've done a good job. We're surrounding them. We've made contact. We have probably killed a bunch of them. Now we just need communication."

"Sir."

"Yes? What is it?"

"Communication has been established already. We're just waiting for the order."

"Very well. Get me whoever is in there on the line."

"You got it sir. Give us a minute."

"No rush. We've got unlimited resources." He chuckled a little as he looked around to see the building ominously standing before him, 600 meters away. The army had encircled the building and cut off every possible avenue of escape. The SOF teams had already moved onto a second mission, which was, more or less, to take up defensive positions at four possible underground escape routes. Their mission was to booby-trap the tunnels as well as find out just where they went, in case they would need to launch an actual assault. The SWAT teams had moved onto a different mission as well, taking up defensive positions between the vehicles and the command center, using their sharpshooting abilities to take out anyone with a rifle who appeared at a window. Colonel Delaney and his men had already entered one of the tunnels and were moving towards the compound, to get a better vantage point and to see if they could get inside. They had switched to smaller weapons such as carbines and submachine guns, leaving their bulky machine guns and sniper rifles in a safe place. "Got communication yet?"

"Yes sir. Ready now."

"Excellent. Hello. Good morning. My name is Lieutenant Colonel McCormick with the Imperial Layartebian Army. To whom am I speaking with?"

"Harold Sinclair."

"Mr. Sinclair. We are in a dubious situation, are we not?"

"If you mean by assaulting my peaceful home with tanks and machine guns then yes."

"It seems that you have a good amount of firepower inside as well. Let's not bullshit each other. Were those LAWs or AT4s?"

"Go to hell!"

"Well I have to sit here so that means I am. Now let me get down to business. You are hereby all classified as terrorists. You have committed many, countless acts of treason, homicide, and who knows what else. You have two options. The first involves you surrendering and all of us going home to have dinner tonight. The second is to draw this out for as long as I can bear before I order an all out assault. We will win."

"I'll take the second option. You will lose. This is our home. We are rightfully here. We are a religious..."

"With RPGs?"

"Let me finish!"

"By all means. Continue..."

"We are a religious group of apocalyptic peoples. We believe the end is near and that our savior, Jesus Christ will come for us."

"Did you just make that up?"

"You mock me?"

"I know the truth behind the RLA. Do you?"

"I know not what you speak of."

"Very well. Shall we continue then?"

"If you mean this mockery then yes."

"What I want to know is what can I do to make this end quickly."

"Afraid of embarrassing media coverage?"

"Even if we were the bad guys I could spin this so greatly I would have every person in the world wanting your head by morning. No. What I want to know are a few things."

"Shoot."

"Funny aren't we. Do you have wounded?"

"We do."

"Do you have dead?"

"We do."

"We can provide medical assistance."

"It is not necessary."

"How many are you?"

"Many."

"A number."

"Hundreds."

"A number."

"Hundreds."

"Very well. Why do you seek war upon the Empire?"

"We do..."

"Why do you seek war upon the Empire?" In the background, he could hear some muffled conversations. He couldn't make it out but he guessed what it was about when Mr. Sinclair returned.

"There is no point hiding this any further."

"My point exactly."

"We are here to restore the rightful government to Layarteb, the government of the people, the Republic."

"But it was the people who rose up to form the Empire."

"Nay! One man did."

"Interpretations are lost aren't they?"

"Not when they are wrong."

"Very well. What do you want?"

"The dissolution of the Empire, return of the Republic, and the trial of the Emperor."

"What feasibility do you want?"

"That is what we demand."

"That demand cannot be given."

"Then neither can our surrender." He hung up the phone and LTC. McCormick smiled. He looked around at his command center and knew exactly what to do next.

"All units. All units. Compound is hostile holding traitors in the hundreds. You are authorized to shoot on sight any individual within the compound unless they have a flag of surrender. Commence firing immediately." Once again, the drown of the gunfire erupted and the ground shook as the might machine guns, chain guns, and 105 millimeter main guns of the tanks unleashed unholy hell upon the compound. The western portion was taking the biggest beating and it was doubtful that it would still be there by morning, if this kept up. LTC. McCormick planned to do this throughout the night or at least until he resumed communication with Mr. Sinclair.

The battlefield has settled down, for now. The Layartebian Army and the RLA had exchanged gunfire for the better part of six hours now and as the sun hung high over the horizon, the cold air surrounding them, things seemed to, even for just a split second, to be calming down to a situation that would be desirable for LTC. McCormick. He stood at his command post and watched the ominous compound with a fervent stare in his eyes. "What now?" He asked the air around him. Then, the phone rang. "Give that to me."

"Yes sir."

"Mr. Sinclair. Have you had a chance to think?"

"I have. I. We. Invite you and your illegitimate army to lay seige to us."

"I'm afraid that will not turn out good for you."

"Now will it for you." He hung up the phone and LTC. McCormick looked back at the table. Things had quieted down severely over the past couple of minutes but all of that was going to change, for good. "Alright. Let's begin then. Full assault at 23:00 hours." The table suddenly became a bastion of death. The plans were laid out on the table of the compound and each and every ingress path. The plan was laid out and everyone was in place.

Loaders ensured that their cannons were ready, loaded, and warmed up. Machine guns had their barrels replaced and their magazines reloaded. Assault rifles were loaded as well, some cleaned. The assault at 23:00 hours was definitely going to be an assault for the ages and it involved a vast amount of intelligence to make this work. Layartebian soldiers and cavalrymen were all around the compound aching for action, aching to fire back at the RLA and annihilate them and the entire compound that was in front of them. The sun would be setting soon and so would the era of the RLA.

Colonel Delaney and his men were completely unable to find any ingress route into the compound. The tunnels had been blocked and what few actually made it underneath the compound were lined with so many booby traps that the only way to clear them would be to detonate grenades within the tunnels, thereby collapsing them. The RLA had done their homework and they ensured that no attack would come from the underground, only from the surface.

Night time would not be as well suited for their attack as they pleased. The compound had massive search lights that could illuminate the entire field around the compound, rendering their attack harmless, if they didn't get the lights neutralized. Snipers would dtake care of that, firing their high-powered rights into the search lights, all nine of them, disabling them just before the assault began. The primary form of support would come from the tanks and the infantry fighting vehicles but the Little Birds would play a punishing role. They were armed with dual M31A3 Heavy Machine Guns armed with 1,000 rounds each and two CRV7 rocket pods with 7 rounds per pod. They would be able to unleash weapons far more dangerous and powerful than anyone in the compound possessed.

At 22:52, the helicopters sprang to life. They were three kilometers away, sitting comfortably in a field covered well by the forests of the area. The area was dark and everything was done with night vision, meaning that night-time operations were limited, albeit still going on throughout the course of the situation. Only two Little Birds would be tasked for this mission and that was all that was necessary, albeit the others would be ready to fly, armed heavily with their own weapons.

Prone and crouched, seventy-seven snipres all acquired their targets. Each would fire a single round into the search light with three rounds per light, enough to thoroughly take out each and every light. At 23:58, they all, in a uniform action, squeezed their triggers, sending twenty-seven .308 caliber bullets towards the search lights at a speed of 2,650 feet per second. They impacted all around the same time, disabling the lights throughout the compound, the attack was coming!

The RLA knew it was coming as well, they had been prepared. They opened fire immediately, targetting anything and everything that was out there, only to get fire returned back at them, in volumes. The Little Birds came in quickly, focusing their attacks on the towered structures of the compound, where snipers were and where RPGs came from, though all of them launched ineffectively. The barrage of bullets tore through the compound, wounding and killing many of them before they ever got a chance to respond. Bullets from the HMGs tore the hardest, penetrating through the weak walls of the compound with little effort. Chain gun rounds did heavy damage too, albeit their usage was far more selective because of the overpenetration of their rounds. Tank shells were used selectively as well. Their 105 millimeter rounds tore through parts of the compound creating massive holes and killing many within. Their first rounds were all high-explosive whereas the follow up rounds included fragmentation, canisters, and even tear gas. The attack was initially very effective.

The first shots found thier marks and obliterated six sections of wall, enough for soldiers to rush into and engage the enemy. When the tear gas followed, the building began to emit a white smoke as it filled up the entire compound and poured out of the broken windows and bullet holes. Still, the enemy kept firing and as the soldiers advanced, they became instantly pinned. Commanders were flabbergasted by the ability of them to shoot so well through the tear gas, which could only mean one thing, they had gas masks, meaning that this situation wasn't going to be as easily solvable as they thought.

Soldiers used heavy machine guns to hold back the resistance in the windows, providing enough cover fire for the soldiers to get as close as possible to the building. The enemy was relentless and they could have just annihilated the whole compound but LTC. McCormick wanted the leadership taken alive. He was sure that they had not escaped since he knew of every tunnel underneath the fields around the compound and he had each and every one of them being monitored by motion and seismic sensors as well as lined with booby traps, primarily Claymore mines and fragmentation grenades. It was so dark in those tunnels that some of the trip wires just couldn't be avoided and the many decoys that were there would distract them enough to let the real ones do their job. One little trip over one of those wires would set of a cacophony of explosions.

Ten minutes into the assault, the soldiers had gotten no where. Many had advanced to the walls of the compound and were engaging the enemy from point blank range but none had made it into the compound yet. The holes in the walls were large enough for a small car to pass through and the tear gas poured out of it. More and more tear gas was used, fruitlessly. They had gas masks and were laughing at the Layartebian soldiers as they attempted to seige the compound. It was aggravating for the Layartebians and they responded in due course, using their weapons far more effectively. So far only ten soldiers had been killed and it seemed like at least half of the compound had been taken out, with all the bullets that had been put through the windows and walls.

Finally, when the first team entered the first hole to engage the enemy within the compound, they found that they were immediately held back. The RLA had dozens upon dozens upon dozens of armed soldiers to meet them and they were forced to take up defensive positions against walls. Flashbangs were plentiful and when they were thrown around corners and the soldies advanced inward, they found that barely half of the people had been affected by the grenades, the other half protected by those infront of them. The soldiers advanced slowly, very slowly. They were killing far more of the enemy than were being killed but, unfortunately, they weren't getting very far.

Of the first twelve soldiers that entered the compound, only four escaped, only having advanced sixteen feet. The assault bore onward but was not going to get far. Soldiers that were using IFVs and APCs for cover were the best out but they were fired at from downward angles, from positions they thought they had taken care of with chain guns and heavy machine guns. The RLA had something going on that they weren't aware of, especially since the amount of bullets they had dumped into some of the upper positions were uncountable. Now, they were being fired at from those very positions, and quite effectively.

The assault lasted a mere forty minutes but ended with a retreat, a retreat by the Layartebian soldiers. They had done well, against an enemy that had several tricks up their sleeves and apparently far more bodies than they expected. With fifty-two fatalities in that single assault and another eighty-two wounded, they had no other choice. No one knew just how many more RLA soldiers there were but if that many Layartebians had been hurt and killed, the number of RLA figures had to be at least ten times that much, although who knew how many for sure. Stalemate ensued as the Layartebians held back.

The standoff got nowhere until 07:15 the next morning, the LTC. McCormick placed a call to Sinclair. He still had 6 of his soldiers unaccounted for and he wanted to get the bodies, they deserved a proper burial. "Yes. Yes. It's Lieutenant Colonel McCormick."

"Morning Colonel. Sleep well?"

"Better than you I'm afraid."

"I find that hard to believe. Was it forty minutes before your assault failed?"

"I have 6 men unaccounted for."

"I know. Their bodies are over here."

"Where?"

"If I let you get them then what are you going to give me?"

"How about a twenty-four hour cease-fire, effective immediately?"

"What's that going to give us?"

"A chance to come to your senses and surrender before we burn the whole compound to the ground."

"Oh I doubt it."

"Doubt what?"

"That you will have the courage to burn us out. Don't you forget? You want us alive."

"Until our patience runs out."

"Your six bodies. You may get them. We accept your ceasefire but we shall not surrender."

"Maybe when it's over you'll come to your senses."

"Perhaps you will too. They are in the eastern courtyard."

"Very well." LTC. McCormick hung up the phone and looked around the command center. "Get a team out there. They go in armed!"

"But sir, the ceasefire?"

"You trust them? No? I didn't think so."

"Yes sir. Omega 4-1. Ingress to eastern courtyard for body recovery. 6 in total. Ceasefire in effect."

"Roger that." The response came almost instantly but was surrounded with static. Omega 4-1 was a small team that was responsible for these types of missions and they were always armed. The ceasefire would be observed by both parties but who knew if that would happen.

Twenty-four hours was a long time to sit and think and sit and plan. The RLA were doing just that, thinking and planning how they would resist the Layartebian assault that they knew was coming. They had little idea how they would fight. They were down to a mere 96 fighters, most of them having been killed by the previous assault. They claimed to have far more than they really possessed but there was no stopping the truth of the matter, they were not going to survive another assault at all. The Layartebians, on the other hand, had only lost 60 soldiers and they had plenty of armor and power around the compound to level it. They had announced that they planned to burn the compound to the ground and Sinclair was unsure whether or not to take LTC. McCormick at his word and believe it. If that were so, they weren't going to be able to go very far. It was either burn alive or escape and be shot by the Layartebians.

For LTC. McCormick the plan was simple. At 06:30 he would give them one hour to surrender or otherwise face an onslaught and attack. At 08:00 if they had not surrendered, he would begin the assault, which was, more or less, just setting the compound on fire. He was not here to play a game. He was under orders to seige the compound and annihilate the RLA. Whilst it was true that he was under pressure to capture the RLA leadership, it wasn't a requirement, though he would be chided if he didn't.

"You know what? I have an idea. Henderson. Get Colonel Delaney up here."

"Sir?"

"Colonel Delaney."

"I'm not aware of..."

"Listen. You're never going to make captain if you don't start paying some attention."

"Yes sir."

"Go. Get. Colonel. Delaney. Now."

"Yes sir."

"Imbicile!" LTC. McCormick knew LT. Henderson well, unfortunately. They had both been in the same unit for their entire careers, though LT. Henderson was definitely not as veteran as LTC. McCormick. He was incapable of leading a unit and LTC. McCormick just kept him as an aide, albeit he rarely performed that role well. The only reason he was still working there was because he had a family and kids to support and LTC. McCormick wasn't about to toss him on his ass because he was a moron, he would just use him as he saw fit and ensure that he was never in a position that could put anyone in jeopardy. It took a few minutes but LT. Henderson returned and Colonel Delaney was right behind him.

"Sir. You wanted to see me?" COL. Delaney saluted as he approached. LTC. McCormick, confused why a superior officer was saluting him, he responded with a due salute.

"Yes Colonel. We need to capture the leadership alive. Unfortunately, you've seen this place, it's protected enough to defend against our assault. I plan to offer a last chance to surrender by 07:30. The assault begins at 08:00 but it won't be an assault. We're going to burn it to the ground. I don't have time to sit around and waste here."

"I understand."

"That was quick."

"Aye sir."

"I want them alive but unfortunately unless you go in there during the fire they're going to attack."

"You are correct."

"Well. Any ideas?"

"We could go through tunnel 'E' and use a breeching charge to blow the door. That's this one. It's the only decent one we can use."

"Well. I can't disagree there."

"Very well. We'll be in the tunnel at 07:30 and ready to go and attack on point. What will be the fire starter?"

"We're going to use a thermobaric munition fired into this hole up here. The strike will be started by a Stalker."

"Alright. I'll inform my men."

"Good luck sir and thank you."

"Yes sir!" COL. Delaney saluted and returned back to his men to inform them directly. They were going to have an impossible task ahead of them and they weren't going to be able to do it with leisure. The building would be on fire and they would have a limited amount of time to do this before the place was just too unsafe even for them to be inside. They didn't know what kinds of arms were stored there and a fire would definitely detonate them eventually, something that would make the place that much worse to be inside.

The counter ticked down as the Layartebian forces moved into place. Communication with the RLA leadership inside had gone dark and they weren't answering the phone anymore, it just rung and rung and rung. LTC. McCormick let it ring for a few minutes each time, finally becomming frustrated himself. The more it rang, he knew, the more it frustrated them inside. A ringing phone was definitely an annoying, irritating sound one just wanted to make stop. The psychological warfare was definitely a strongpoint for him.

Overhead, the sky was rather blue that day. There were some clouds but not many. Soldiers used the time to relax and to wind down a little, while keeping vigilante for a sharpshooter or any other indication that they would have to squeeze their triggers. It was too peaceful a scene to be a warzone. The trees around rustled with the breeze and their birds chirped loudly. Nothing gave a hint as to what was about to come.

Hour after hour, throughout the day, LTC. McCormick kept ringing the phone. A lack of communication with those inside meant either of two things: they were all dead or they were preparing. Movement was no longer recorded and LTC. McCormick feared that the RLA inside had committed suicide. Was he right? It was difficult to tell and he didn't want to send in a team only to get them shot up and have more bodies on his hands. Sixty was enough for a miniscule raid like this, sixty more than should have been allowed.

When the sun set low on the horizon, preparations for the assault began. Soldiers geared up and cleaned their weapons. They went to work fixing anything that looked as if it needed repairing. Communication had yet to be established with those inside and this was not going to be an easy, walk-in-the-park. Night fell and the stalemate continued. More than once, LTC. McCormick remarked that they had committed suicide and they were probably all dead. He would forgo the burning until he ascertained that they were still alive in there. He wasn't going to waste resources and burn evidence if he didn't have to, especially intelligence!

Each second of each minute of each hour was just another one lost. Time was of the essence here and as 06:30 approached, LTC. McCormrick realized that it was a fool's errand to use the phone. A loudspeaker would have to do: "This is your final warning. You have one hour to surrender. If you do not vacate the compound, weapons or arms over your head, we will burn the compound to the ground. The clock is ticking. You have until 07:30 hours. Make the wise choice." COL. Delaney and his men were in place. It was counting down to the hour. Either this was a trap and they were just waiting for the Layartebian soldiers to attack or they were actually dead, killed by their own hand. Only time would tell.

The morning sun rose far away in the east, casting a dark shadow of the building on the ground. The surrounding army was ominous and there was nothing that could be done about them. The clock ticked away further and furth, until 07:15, when things became different, when things changed, when the whole battle plan changed. "Sir. Sir!"

"What? We're busy here."

"Sir! They've beat us to it!"

"What!?"

"Sir. It's on fire." LTC. McCormick shot out from the interior of the C3 vehicle and looked out, towards the building, towards a growing inferno. The fire was growing already, from the eastern corner, and spreading, spreading westward as the wind blew and fueled the already excited fire. "It just started sir. Well, I mean it just..."

"Get me the goddamn radio now!"

"Yes sir." LT. Henderson vanished for a few seconds and returned with the radio, which was unusual, since he managed to accomplish that without screwing up. "Here sir."

"Good. Zeta One. Zeta One. Come in."

"Zeta One."

"The building is burning. Execute plan now!"

"What!"

"We didn't start it."

"Roger that. On it." Colonel Delaney looked at his men and nodded. They took cover and the plastique was detonated, destroying the hatch. Smoke immediately filled the tunnel and two things struck them right away, the first being the heat of the fire and the last being the smell of gasoline. "Gasoline." He said. "Let's keep it simple, alright."

"Roger that sir." They bolted from the tunnel and jumped into the inferno. There was fire everywhere and they definitely had not entered a nice part of the compound. The inferno raged everywhere and the bodies were both inside of the flames and lying around. It was not a pretty sight and their worst assumptions had been proven correct, they had committed suicide. "Come on. Upstairs." They walked cautiously. The fire had been going for a while and the gasoline didn't help them at all. Their weapons were raised and they expected enemies to be everywhere, armed with submachine guns, pistols, and shotguns. They found none at first and moved towards a set of stairs that they knew to be in the western corner of the main entrance. Guns and ammunition were everywhere and they nearly slipped on the spent shell casings, which were laid out on the ground like marbles. Bodies were everywhere, many having been taken down by bullets it seemed. Some were blown apart, by the chain guns and tank guns.

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The fire raged and no less than twenty minutes later, the entire eastern portion was engulfed in flames and moving further west, fed by the gasoline and winds, which were high that morning. Soldiers around the compound could do little but watch. The fire department had been called but this fire was moving far too quickly for them to be able to do much. The compound would have to burn down, it couldn't be fought except by one technique, surround and drown but, unfortunately, there was no water sources to tap into out there and the engines could not hold enough water to do this job at all. They were powerless.

Inside, Colonel Delaney and his men moved up the stairs to the second floor. The smoke was thick, black, and it choked them. They would go on, but they were limited by the severe amount of smoke that was everywhere. They used flashlights attached to their weapons to see and they were careful where to step, especially as they double backed to the east. They were hoping that the main office wasn't on fire yet as it was more or less to the western part of te compound. The door to it was secured well and papers were everywhere. They had worked to conceal their activites well, not that anything would survive the fire. "Use a charge!" A C4 breeching charge was placed on the door and everyone stood back as it went off, shattering the door into a million pieces, some no bigger than a fingernail. There were no screams and the smoke only got thicker. "Clear!" They entered the room, to find just what they expected, dead bodies. Everyone had committed suicide, everyone.

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Then, the unthinkable happened. The compound shook and roared as a fireball a hundred feet in diameter, tore through the basement, upwards, through the first floor, taking out half of the second floor as it raged upwards. The office had been cut into two and they had to get out of there and get out of there fast. The fireball was from an explosion, a big explosion, most likely an ammunition cache in the basement. The fire was spreading to the west, spreading fast, very fast. Colonel Delaney and his men would barely make it out alive, inhaling enough smoke to have to spend a night in the infirmary for smoke inhalation.

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The fire raged and burned for hours, fed by an enormous amount of gasoline and ammunition. It still wouldn't be safe the next morning, although recovery opreations would begin on the safer parts. The fire smoldered for two days, smoking as the wind kicked up and as trained personnel sifted through the rubble for clues, for remains, for evidence. Remains was all that would be found as any evidence was scorched beyond recovery. Hard drives had been wiped clean, memory sticks were melted, and everything else of value had been torched, along with the fire. There was nothing, nothing except the charred, unidentifiable parts of 427 bodies, many of whom died from gunshot wounds, though autopsies would be useless considering the extent of the burns.

When night fell on the evening of January 29, it was just like any other night. It was cold in the north and cool in the south. In the Caribbean and further south it was warm. Winter for the northern hemisphere meant summer for the southern. The further north you went the colder it was. However, in Atlanta, Georgia, it averaged 41°F in January, the coldest month. It was 38°F as the clock ticked past 01:20. The night was something like any other night, breezy. It was a new moon so the sky was dark, darker than usual. A few clouds hung high in the atmosphere but they were barely visible because of the lack of light, which was provided only by the starlight and the street lights, which had gone on as the sun went down.

Saturday morning was a lively time. The night life in Atlanta was something fun and many mingled in bars, clubs, and on the streets in the city. At this hour of the morning, the only things open were the bars, nightclubs, convience stores, gas stations, and some supermarkets. Otherwise, everything else was closed. In some buildings, janitors worked throughout the night, cleaning up after the day's work. In the LANXESS building, just one of three corporate headquarters buildings, there were no janitors. They had all been asked to take the night off and they had all abliged, especially since they recieved their pay for the night, despite not working. LANXESS was a large corporation within the Empire with a headquarters in Atlanta, Falcon City, and in Panama City. They were a leading chemicals group who produced many types of chemicals, plastics, and rubbers.

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The building was rather new, no more than twelve years old, and it was definitely something that was well made and not an eyesore. Surrounded by a large parking lot, a nice park, and a lot of space, the building was the perfect place for a clandestine meeting. Parked in the executive lot were twelve vehicles, three of them limousines, six of them towncars, and the other three were various other vehicles. Each vehicle belonged to one of the men inside, twelve of them, meeting in secrecy, inside one of the boardrooms of the large corporate headquarters. All of them were dressed in suits, well fitting, well tailored, expensive suits. A haze of smoke filled the boardroom and the light was dull, on purpose.

"Gentlemen. This is a night we will soon regret." One of the men spoke. He was the Minister of Foreign Affairs. "It seems that our plans have to be altered. Our devices within have fallen."

"The loss of the Republican Liberation Army is a detrimental blow to our plans and our efforts. It seems that the entire organization, save for several hundred unorganized remnants who are now in hiding." Another man spoke only this time the man was the Admiral of the Navy.

"Something must be done. Our plan for the Republic, for power, and for absolution is shot." The Minister of Intelligence said, in a low voice. "We cannot sit idly by."

"No. We cannot. It is unfortunate that we have lost the RLA, our tool for success. They were merely cannon fodder though. Did we not expect this?" Dr. Gordon Gray was an influential person within the group and within the Empire. His dominion of the University of Layarteb, at Layarteb City, as he was the administrator of the university.

"General. What do you propose that we do?" Ethan Hunter was an influential member of the Central Justice Agency, a supervisor who could access any file on any person within the Empire, whenever he wanted. He had so much power and so much responsibility that he was probably more powerful than any of them within the group. He spoke directly to General Victor Trumbell, an Army General who commanded an entire Army.

"Our plan for this has left us astray. We are without a tool. We must recreate our group. We must formulate a force with which we can do what we need."

"I agree. Perhaps we should return to the pen for now."

"Dr. Perry, with all due respect, at this moment in time, we cannot simply return to the drawing board. We must pick up from where we left off, only to count our losses here and to strike back fully." Dr. Victor Michael was a lead scientist for the Layartebian Defense Corporation. Dr. James Perry and he never quite got along, they were from two totally different schools of thought. Dr. Perry was a political scientist and philosopher, a very famous on within the Empire and throughout the world. Dr. Victor Michael was a hands-on scientist, a researcher who worked with the LDC to create the very weapons that Dr. Perry often criticized. Neither of them were ever friendly to each other but they were tolerant for the sake of the greater good, which was their group. The conversations continued, although many of the others remained silent. The others were all famous and well known individuals within the Empire as well. There was the Governor of the Province of South Eastern Virginia, the General of the Air Force, Dr. Donald Bush, a scientist for Umbrella Corporation, and one other figure, a man whom was far more capable and dangerous than any of the others. He may not have had the same influence that some of them had nor the capabilities that others had but he had pure capability within his grasp. This man was Colonel Jack Delaney, the most ellusive figure within the Imperial Layartebian Military. He was the leader of Force Falcon Team One, the blackest of black groups. Together, the twelve of them comprised a very secretive group named "Majestic-12." They were a shadow government, more or less. All of their members were members of the Illuminati another secretive group, buried within the Free Masons, the premier secret society within the Empire and even within the world. The Free Masons were international, as was the Illuminati. Majestic-12, on the other hand, was a group within the Illuminati who only worked within the Empire. Their operation as a shadow unit was, more or less, a secret to the rest of the government. They kept tight within themselves and kept their identities unknown outside of their own world. They met clandestinely, though not often, at various locations. They had well over two hundred meeting spots and never went to the same one twice without spacing it out by months. They were the real ones behind the RLA and behind all of their activities. They were the real ones driving the Republic and driving its re-establishment.

"Perhaps things are not as they seem." The Minister of Intelligence spoke. "Perhaps we should re-evaluate our plan? Our situation here is something unlike we have faced before. We were so near completion of our plan but we were also so near realization of our plan."

"What are you suggestion?"

"Admiral I am suggesting that, perhaps we should be re-evaluating our aims. Could our goal be unattainable?"

"Minister. Do you forget your place?"

"Sir?"

"Your predecessor wanted to publicize our struggle. Where is he now?"

"Threaten me further Admiral and watch how I handle this."

"Gentlemen. Gentlemen. We are not to bicker like children. This is preposterous."

"Colonel. I understand what you are implying here but I am not here to ruin our quest. I am not here for that at all. I do believe; however, that this set back is an unfortunate one."

"It is most certainly an unfortunate one. I cannot stress that enough myself. However, we must all agree on something here tonight, something that will decide the fate of our group and of our perseverance."

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Chapter Seven: Colorblind

December 15: Layartebian forces begin aerial attack on Quebec at 0200 local time.
December 25: Ground war against Quebec begins at 0230 local time.
December 30: Boisclair captured by Roman forces.
January 1, 2006: Quebec War over. Montreal secure.


Chapter Eight: Gone Away

January 21: Battle of Clinton begins. Layartebian forces attack RLA compound north of Clinton, Alabama. The battle begins at exactly 10:02, local time. 8 soldiers die initially. Full assault begins at 23:00. Assault ends at 23:40 with 52 soldiers dead and 82 wounded.
January 22: Battle of Clinton continues. Stalemate ensues with a twenty-four hour ceasefire at 07:15.
January 23: Battle of Clinton ends. RLA compound burned from the inside out, RLA leadership and fighters dead from suicide or gunshots. 427 die.


Confirmed Body Count: 1,617
Unconfirmed Body Count: 1,859+

Chapter IX: Greed & Serenity

After the fall of Easter Island and the eventual seizure of the Caribbean in its entirety, things quieted down in the Empire. Realization had been declared as the final territories within the Caribbean and the eastern Atlantic came under the control of the Empire. The Cayman Islands, Cuba, and the Madeira Islands were now all in the grasp of the Empire. The RLA had been destroyed but they still had some scattered remnants throughout the Empire, numbering between 300 and 500. Most of them were believed to be hiding out in South Eastern Virginia or throughout the Caribbean, which was not a province in itself. The Caribbean Republic had become the Province of Reaf on May 15 after a referendum vote of 65% in favor of provincial status. Most notably, the islands of Cuba, Grenada, and Guadelope voted against becoming a province but they were still out weighed by the remainder of the islands. Puerto Rica and Hispanola had been the prime votes in favor of the province.

Since then, Majestic had laid low. The Illuminati were reformulating their plan with the direction of Majestic and they were, so far, trying to use the Caribbean as their next area of attack. A 65% majority is a low majority and the lowest amongst any of the other votes, to date. They wanted to use that against the Empire, on the island of Grenada. Grenada was home to the central command HQ of the Caribbean sector of the Layartebian military. Neutralizing the island would definitely work to favor them. They knew that the resistance in Grenada would never be able to hold out against an onslaught of Layartebian forces but it would invigorate any resistance that still existed.

Whilst the Illuminati worked to create a viable and powerful milita group within the Caribbean, Majestic worked to uncover the secrets that they would need in order to keep control of their own intentions. Still, they were far more perturbed with the revelation that the Minister of Intelligence had, once again, turned out to be fighting against them. The first one wished only to publicize their revolutionary hopes and uncover their lies. He met his end, the first of many dead by RLA terrorist strikes. The second tried his best to keep Easter Island out of the grasp of the Empire and tried, his best, to have Delaney killed, who was now a Brigadier General. The newest Minister of Intelligence was relatively unknown throughout the government. He wasn't going to be part of Majestic either.

The newest addition was the CEO of Manchurian Global, John Patrick. John Patrick was a prominent figure. He stood 6'2" and weighed almost 200 pounds, most of it muscle. At 53, he was in better shape than most 20 year olds. He ran twice a week, eight miles each time. He also spent at least an hour a day in the gym at the corporate headquarters for Manchurian Global. Their CEO was John Patrick and he had been for the past six years. His salary was equal to that of his position as he earned nearly §1.8 million per year. He was definitely the king of kings in the corporate world. John Patrick was recieved well within Majestic and he brought fourth good ideas right away.

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One of his ideas, which was agreed upon by everyone, was to find out what information had been learned from the interrogations of the former Minister of Intelligence. Brigadier General Delaney would have to undertake this quest. He had clearance to any military facility that he wanted and, at the same time, he was largely unknown and definitely not a prominent figure within the military. He was a ghost and a shadow, the perfect person to be sent for the task. Naturally, rather than hide, he would inform the Emperor of his plan to go to Nova Prospekt to learn what had been gained from the Minister. The Emperor agreed immediately and on board a CH-53N Super Stallion II flying from Falcon City to Layarteb City, the Emperor authorized the incursion.

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BG. Delaney would be going there as an "aide" of the Emperor on a strict mission to learn what he could from the Minister and from the interrogations. BG. Delaney boarded a C-21B Learjet 80 from Layarteb City IAP dressed as a G-Man. He would land in the Galapagos Islands. Santa Fé island was his destination, which was the darkest one of the 19 main islands. The distance between the two locations was 3,050 miles, more or less, and the Learjet would cruise at a speed of 450 miles per hour, putting him in the air for almost 7 hours. He had plenty of time to think and he relaxed as the Learjet soared through the skies.

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Santa Fé was an island that was definitely a dark one. The seas were gray and rough and a gray sky hung above the islands. The runway at Santa Fé was 1,000 meters long and a single runway. The Learjet would only take up 840 meters of the runway when it touched down. BG. Delaney was met at the end of the runway by a Force Hurricane vehicle. He stepped out of the plane, forgetting that he was a general and walked over to the M2008A1 Dingo APV. There was no roof mounted machine gun and the vehicle was running when he got to it. The driver was just a foot soldier in Force Hurricane but the man in the passenger seat was one of the many administrators of the prison. "It's good to meet you Mr. McCullen. My name is Major Harris, administrator of C-Block. We'll be taking you to the facility today. I hope your flight in was comfortable?"

"It was. My pilot will require refueling and some rest."

"The arrangements are being made as we speak."

"Good. Is there a storm expected?" BG. Delaney climbed into the Dingo and shut the door. It began moving towards the prison, which was at the complete other end of the island, a good twenty minute drive. The terrain was rugged and definitely not quickly traversable.

"Yes there is. Usually we're covered with a cool misty fog but, at the moment, we're under a severe thunderstorm warning."

"Understood. How far is it?"

"We're about twenty minutes out now."

"Good. Good." He leaned back a little and shut his eyes. Overhead, a serious storm brewed. Lightning, thunder, and torrential rains were only miles away, heading at full steam towards the island. "I'm going to rest my eyes now. If you don't mind I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Understood sir." BG. Delaney leaned back. His name for the trip was James McCullen and all of his identification read the same thing. It was an operation planned with the most careful scrutiny and the information he would learn from the Minister of Intelligence would be enough to find out just where they went wrong.

Overhead, the sky crackled with each burst of thunder. The storm grew closer and with it would be coming gallons upon gallons upon gallons upon gallons of rain, enough to flood out the island. The lightning and the wind, together, would couple with the rain and turn the island into the scariest place on Earth. The Dingo APV bounced around as it moved through the darkness towards the other end of the island. As they came over each hill and around each bend, the prison grew in the distance, ascending further and further into the sky with each foot they gained. When they finally pulled up to the looming prison, BG. Delaney was awestruck. He had never seen such a secure facility of immense proportions. Zeta Facility was big but inside of hills and mountains in Westchester County, not like this place. It was exposed and massive.

Big isn't it. He thought to himself, looking up at the grandeur of the facility, which was, perhaps, the most secure prison in the Empire.

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"Mr. McCullen. If you'll please present your security badge to the guard."

"Sure." He pulled out the fake ID card and the guard swiped it. Within a quarter of a second, it analyzed the data and cleared him. "No worries." He smiled. The front gate opened, though it was more of a wall than a gate. The concrete walls around the facility were thick enough that nobody could put through them with anything less than a 125 millimeter tank gun. The front gates were at least that strong, if not stronger. The Dingo APV entered the eerie entrance as the gate closed behind them. "You know, it's almost like a bad horror movie."

"What is?"

"The whole gate, wall, eerie facility."

"Yes sir it is. I had that thought my first time here as well. Everyone gets used to it though. The people we have here are the most dangerous enemies of the Empire, many of whom shouldn't even be allowed to live. This place is unforgiving Mr. McCullen."

"I wouldn't doubt it. You gentlemen do a fine job here from what I hear. Now that I can personally inspect one of your subjects, I will hope to have nothing but good things to say."

"Ah yes. Well. Your subject was particularly tricky. He was a foe but we broke him, eventually."

"That's good to hear."

"Yes well. He has yielded a lot of information. How much of it is useful, I won't know." The Dingo creeped along the concrete pavement to the front of the facility. They kept it under 10 miles per hour, just slow enough that gave BG. Delaney a looming impression of the facility and of its reality.

This would be hell if Easter Island never existed. He thought further. When the Dingo came to a halt, he unbuckled his seat belt, and opened the door. He stepped out smoothly and adjusted his suit jacket as he looked around. Buttoning the top two buttons, he moved his shoulders back slightly and followed the guardsmen into the building.

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The Force Hurricane personnel were all dressed in heavy duty combat gear. The suits they worn were special suits that completely hid every part of their body and even went so far as to obscure their voices. All of their voices sounded the same and they were all linked to a communications system that kept everyone in the loop. Their visors also gave them enhanced vision, especially needed in the darkest areas of the prison. Their armor could take several hits from 12 gauge shotguns and they wouldn't so much as feel it. They did; however, walk around heavily armed. They carried, always, either of two weapons and they always moved in groups of three. One carried an M55A1 Automatic Shotgun. Another carried an M75A1 Submachine Gun. The other carried an M52A1 Carbine. All of them had their weapons in tip-top shape. Though riots were virtually impossible, one had broken out before and their weapons were the only things that saved them.

BG. Delaney went unarmed, knowing that he would have to pass through a metal detector and an X-Ray machine and it made him nervous but he did only what he had to in order to get this mission accomplished. The first safety check he had to pass through was a retnal scan, which validated him as who he claimed to be and ensured that he was not an imposter with a good fake ID. The second was the X-Ray and metal detectors, which scanned his body for anything other than bones and flesh. The third was another ID scan, this one far more pervasive and would definitely reveal any flaws in the ID. He passed all of them quickly and was given a badge to wear on his suit jacket, which simply had the word "VISITOR" on it right above a bar code. A small picture was placed next to the word with his face. There was no forging this one.

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"So, Mr. McCullen. Where should we go first?"

"Are you my 'tour-guide'?"

"Something like that. I and my two partners here are tagging along to make sure you don't get into any trouble."

"Understood. In that case, I believe that I would like a simple tour first, of the various blocks. Then we can sit down with the administrator. I do look forward to meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Bill Mulligan."

"Yes sir. Shall we begin?" Outside, the lightning, rain, and thunder started, though lightly at first, only to pick up with the winds as the storm bore its full force down onto the Galapagos Islands.

The prison was sound proofed and the might of the near hurricane strength storm, looming high above the prison, battering it, made no sound to the inside. The roaring of the thunder and the brightness of the lightning were not seen from within the prison except from various points, none of which were accessible by the prisoners. Prisoners were kept in their cells twenty-four hours a day. The only time they came out was for "interrogation" and for showering, which was done only once a week, sometimes not even that often.

The tour through the prison was brief though they did take BG. Delaney through several of the wings. "Well sir. I hope you are satisfied?"

"I am. The Emperor will be pleased. I know he has never visited the facility and I am to give you a personal apology for that."

"We understand sir. We hold no grudges."

"That's good to know. Should we now, perhaps, meet with Lieutenant Colonel Bill Mulligan?"

"Yes sir. He is waiting for us and has prepared a small dinner for us."

"Excellent. I'm famished."

"I agree sir."

"Will you be joining us?"

"No sir. My men and I are due to come off shift in thirty minutes." They walked through the prison towards the administrators office, which was at the very top floor of the facility and overlooked the whole island and the sea. It was a nice office, nicer than normal offices would be but it was definitely not as elegant and lavish as that of a CEO's. "It's just this way. We can take the elevator."

"How many floors up?"

"Twelve."

"Big place."

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Shall we?" They approached the elevator bank and Major Harris swiped his keycard in front of the scanner. It lit up green and the elevator doors opened. They all stepped in and the doors shut behind them. There were buttons for every level except twelve. Major Harris swiped his card again and punched in a fourteen character, alphanumeric code. The elevator jolted into motion and ascended towards the twelfth floor. The elevator ride was quick and quiet and when the doors opened, they opened into a corridor with a door at the end of it. In front of the door were two armed guards, both carrying Carbines. "Mr. McCullen, I will leave you here and ask that you please present your identification to the men at the end of the corridor here. It has been a pleasure." He reached out to shake Delaney's hand and he did so before turning around to walk to the other end of the corridor, which was about twenty-five feet away. If the men at the end opened fire, he was done for without a second to spare.

"Good evening gentlemen. I am James McCullen, aide to the Emperor. I have an appointment with Lieutenant Colonel Mulligan."

"Please put your hands up." The voices were all the same and he did as they ran a metal detector wand around his body. "Alright. ID?"

"Here you go." They scanned it and looked at the PDA screen. He was approved. "Thank you."

"Wait here." The guard buzzed the intercom and when a voice answered, he returned, "Mr. McCullen here to see you sir."

"Send him in."

"Yes sir. Go ahead in." The door opened. It was a big, heavy door, probably blast-proof and it was definitely smooth as it opened. He entered the office and looked right towards the main desk. Now he could see the rain, the thunder, the winds, the clouds, and the lightning. It was like watching artillery fire all around a warzone but with the mute button on, though the windows looked as if they just wanted to burst open with each flash of lightning. He knew the thunder had to be extremely loud as the flashes of lightning were beyond bright.

"Ah, Mr. McCullen. It's good to meet you. Please, have a seat." He stood to shake his hand and returned to his desk. "I'm having dinner brought up for us, I hope you are hungry."

"I am sir. It is a nice view you have here."

"I like it. It's a shame the storm is so bad right now."

"I can see, yes."

"Well. I understand that you are here to learn what we have from the Minister of Intelligence. I have to warn you that although we may have gotten a lot of information out of him, a lot of it is still incomplete. He was a difficult person to break and when we did we found that, on at least two occassions, he purposely disled us, faking it. We believe we've finally gotten him this time but he is a wily character."

"I understand. I worked very closely with him for the Emperor. It was a shame that he turned out to be a traitor."

"I agree. What else can I help you with though? We've never had a visit from someone of such importance before?"

"Well I cannot say that I am here on business other than that which has been stated but I would like to know some minor details about this facility."

"What in particular?"

"Well. Sentences. Do people leave here?"

"Only in body bags. We have two types of prisoners here: lifers and executions. Lifers are stuck here for the remainder of their natural lives. Executions are broken into two categories. There are those who must give us information before we will execute them and those who are to recieve immediate execution. Your subject is of the former."

"Should I find that the information he supplied to us is valid and what we need, would that end the case?"

"It could."

"Very well. I know that the Emperor wishes to have him terminated as soon as possible."

"I understand the Emperor's sympathy."

"Very good. I am to serve as an executioner if need be. I have a number for you to call for clearance for this matter."

"Mr. McCullen, we have certain methods..."

"I understand and my authority here is of a higher nature."

"Very well. Give me that number."

"Here it is. The authorization code is zulu-alpha-mike-charlie-echo-four-seven-seven." LTC. Mulligan dialed the phone number, which led to a line within the Emperor's castle. Inside of a few relays, it was at the Emperor's desk and he was giving his personal authorization to allow BG. Delaney to execute the Minister of Intelligence, if he deemed he had enough information from him. LTC. Mulligan didn't like it one bit but he wasn't about to disobey a direct order from the Emperor. "I do apologize for trampling on your jurisdiction."

"Don't mention it. Ah. Dinner is here. I hope you like roast leg of lamb."

"My favorite meal sir."

"Excellent. Shall we eat then?"

Dinner was cooked to perfection and when BG. Delaney was done, he looked up at the windows showing outside. The storm had amplified in power and potential by nearly a hundred fold in just a half hour, something that worried him only in that he would never be able to take off and get home until the storm cleared or deintensified. "So how long is this storm expected to last?"

"We're predicting at least until tomorrow morning."

"Powerful isn't it?"

"Yes sir it is. Storms like this aren't rare and usually there is fog everywhere. I don't know what kind of trade off it is to have a massive thunderstorm over fog but this is what we're dealt."

"Understood. Well, I must complement your chefs on this fabulous meal."

"I complement them myself each and every night. They're enlisted men who are just fantastic. We're blessed having them here."

"I would say. You can't get meals this good in downtown Layarteb."

"I would agree." They shared and chuckle and both stood, it was time to get to business. "Shall we go to the prisoner?"

"I believe so. If you don't mind I have a tape recorder that I would like to use during our conversation."

"I see no problem."

"Very well. You lead the way sir?" LTC. Mulligan swiped his card at the door and they opened. He led BG. Delaney towards the elevator, which required another card swipe to have its doors opened. They stepped in and travelled down to the third level. "Where is his cell?"

"He's in cell block E, it's at the other end unfortunately. I hope you like walking."

"Exercise is an addiction of mine." LTC. Mulligan led him through the corridors and the balconies of the cell blocks. Armed guards patrolled and stood guard at nearly every turn and they were all in the same tactical uniforms, protecting them from the most powerful weapons that could be used against them during a prison riot, should one happen. On more than one occassion, strong storms took out the power for hours but, luckily for them, the safety systems kicked in and worked beautifully. None of the cell doors opened. Tonight it looked like the same thing was going to happen and they hoped that it would have the same results as the other times. The walk was long and LTC. Mulligan explained the prison as he and BG. Delaney walked through it, moving towards Cell Block E, where high-level officials were held. The cells were the same as everywhere else, windowless, entirely concrete, and extremely uncomfortable. Beds were made of concrete and only thin mattresses separated the concrete from the body. They had a single toliet, also concrete and a small sink, also concrete. The lights were kept off for most of the day inside the cells and when they were on, they were on bright. The walls were soundproofed and, in this section, there was only one person to a room. They were never allowed out except to shower and the last time Cell Block E was allowed to shower was sixteen weeks ago. They weren't going to get another showering session for some time. Rooms could be flooded, if necessary, to drown inmates within. This was pure torture and used sparingly, only when absolutely necessary.

"Here we go. Cell 65." LTC. Mulligan stopped in front of the concrete door and looked around. The guards were all doing their job and doing it well. "Hawkings. Come here."

"Yes sir!"

"We're going to open 65. This is Mr. McCullen, an aide to our Emperor. He will be conducting an interview with the Minister of Intelligence. I want the camera feed on the entire time and you to wait outside here with your team. Should anything happen, you are authorized to protect Mr. McCullen's life at all costs."

"Understood sir."

"What kind of monitoring system do you have?"

"Mr. McCullen we have both sound and visual from a camera inside."

"I would like to request that the audio be turned off. Some of the information that I will be speaking of is classified. Operations and such that I have to discuss with the Minister are for his and me ears only."

"I advise against this Mr. McCullen."

"I cannot give on this one sir. I am under strict orders to find out how much you have gotten from him and what he still knows about two classified operations, both of which are not to be disclosed. Is this understood?"

"Yes it is."

"Very well. I must ask that my request be followed to the T. Information about these two operations could be hazardous to those who hear and it must be kept entirely secret."

"I will turn off the audio. I will not turn off the camera though."

"By all means. Keep that running, just in case he decides to get a little 'tough' with me and you have to send in some extra firepower."

"Understood. The door will be opened in 45 seconds. The audio will be off in 35."

"That is sufficient."

"Good luck."

"Thank you sir." They shook hands and BG. Delaney waited for the door to open. It did so in an unusual way, sliding forward and then to the left. It was thick, very thick, and the seams were waterproofed to ensure that no sound got out as well as water, just in case. When BG. Delaney enetered, he found the Minister sitting upright in his bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Well, well, well. Harry it is good to see you." The Minister shot upright and stared right at BG. Delaney with pure fright in his eyes. The door shut behing BG. Delaney and he was all alone now with the Minister.

"What the..."

"So surprised to see me? I've had them turn off the audio for this conversation so I don't imagine you'll be able to get much out."

"You would. So what are you here for? To finish the job?"

"What have you told them?"

"Nothing..."

"That's not what your files say."

"I told them nothing." He looked around and sat up as BG. Delaney took a seat on a concrete chair on the other side of the room. "Why are you here?"

"This is pretty comfortable," of course he was lying but he was having fun with the Minister. "So Harry, tell me something here. You've told them about a secret plot by the 'Illuminati' to stage a revolution within the Empire to establish the Republic. You've even told them abuot a conspiracy, some plot by twelve men, whom you were a part of."

"Perceptive."

"I'll go on. You've told them that this conspiracy is going to seize control of the government."

"They must be mistaken."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm trying my best."

"Well. In that case let me just go on. That the Republican Liberation Army is a tool of this 'Illuminati' and that the 'Illuminati' are a secretive and very powerful group within the Freemasons and that this particular 'group' of 'twelve' is within the 'Illuminati' correct?"

"You seem to have it all down."

"You've gone only as far as to give them the names."

"In due time."

"Am I supposed to be afraid?"

"Considering the wealth of knowledge that I have I would be slightly afraid."

"Well it's a good thing that I don't scare easily."

"Not to viable threats no. But come to think of this more as a threat to the entire game, to all that has been put together. You and your kind sold me out, you wrote me off like my predecessor. I almost had my revenge, I almost had everything I wanted."

"What are you talking about?"

"Now you're going to play dumb with me?"

"I told you, the audio is off."

"I don't believe anything that you could say."

"Enlighten me. Humor me. Do whatever."

"Alright fine. I had a conversation one night, before Easter Island ever came on the radar. I was presented evidence that you, you and three others had a plan, a different plan, a far more sinister plan."

"You really had better be telling me the truth or else I swear I will choke you right here."

"Listen to me. My predecessor had a plan to completely expose the lies and the plan. I had no such desire. But when I was presented with the evidence to show that you and these three others, all of you, you have all written me and the others off. I was given a directive, a directive to eliminate you. And so I set it up. I planned the Easter Island insurgency. When I heard about the situation, I found the perfect situation. We funded them, we supplied them, and we trained them. We gave them information on you, your men, the scout teams. The scout team that turned didn't turn because of the natives. They turned because it was their mission. They were there to eliminate the first team and your team, to assist the natives, to put up as big of a stand as possible against the Marines. They were taught how to use the cannon."

"Then if this is all true, what was really in those helicopters?"

"An advanced chemical weapon. They were going to kamikazi into the carriers and spread the chemical, killing the entire crew. That would be enough to cause uproar and outrage. Thousands of dead sailors. Think of the headlines." BG. Delaney shot across the room and backhanded him. "I rest my case."

"Who gave you the information?"

"I don't know. It was slid under my door in a folder."

"Since when have you trusted unconfirmed sources?"

"I was the Minister of Intelligence. I confirmed it myself."

"How?"

"Document 142 dash B dash 002 dash Omega."

"How..."

"I was the Minister of Intelligence."

"And you're going to spill all of this aren't you?"

"In due time. The way I see it, I am going to be here for life."

"You are."

"So if I am not going to get the relief of a death sentence, I might as well make good on revenge."

"You might."

"So tell me. When do you four plan to initiate the final plan?"

"In due time."

"Then I should probably prepare myself? Good lord knows you have friends in here."

"We do."

"Is that how you got in?"

"It is."

"Good. Well, then should I expect you to kill me."

"That would blow my cover."

"I should have expected that much."

"I'll be right back." He walked to the door and banged on it four times. The guard slid open the peephole and saw BG. Delaney standing there. "I am through."

"Okay." He opened the door and BG. Delaney stepped out. LTC. Mulligan wasn't far away and BG. Delaney approached him quietly.

"So Mr. McCullen. What did you find out?"

"Well it appears that he did give me some tidbit of information about the RLA remnants. I will have to pass this information along. As it stands right now I don't believe he serves any purpose."

"I must protest Mr. McCullen."

"Duely noted. However, my orders go higher."

"Understood and I will not disobey a direct order from the Emperor but I will make an official note of my protest."

"I would expect nothing less. May I have a sidearm?"

"Do you fancy a caliber?" LTC. Mulligan reluctantly handed over his pistol, an M33A1. "Forty caliber S and W."

"That'll do fine. Safety is over here?"

"Have you ever held one?"

"It's been a long time since I did my service."

"Do you want one of us to do it?"

"No. No. I can handle this."

"Alright."

"Thank you sir. I'll return in a minute."

"Sure thing." LTC. Mulligan turned back to his conversation, thinking only one thing, Useless bureaucrats.

BG. Delaney reentered the cell and turned to the former Minister of Intelligence. "Well. I've got news for you." He sat down in the chair. "I've arranged for you to spend a whole eternity here."

"That's promising."

"Now I just have a few more questions before I have to leave."

"You might as well go ahead."

"If Easter Island failed, what was your backup plan?"

"My backup plan?"

"Yes. It's simple. What were you going to do to expose me if you failed to kill me on Easter Island?"

"I hadn't gotten that far."

"Bullshit!"

"I wouldn't lie."

"How can you not have a backup plan?"

"I didn't expect such a flawless plan to fail."

"I don't think you understand me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You mean to tell me that you had no backup plan whatsoever?"

"I am."

"I don't believe that yet."

"Perhaps I can convince you eventually. What else did you want to bother me about? I'm late for a sixteen hour nap."

"Well I hope that I'm not boring you too much."

"No. Go ahead."

"Who else knows about this?"

"As of yet? Nobody."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"Good. Well then. I bid you farewell." He stepped back and drew the pistol. Without a second thought and in one fluid motion, he disengaged the safety, aimed the pistol at his head, and squeezed off one round. The bullet tore through his forhead and the last thing on his face was complete and utter shock. Death came quickly and the mess would be a nightmare to clean up.

As BG. Delaney stepped out of the cell and handed the pistol back to LTC. Mulligan, a look of shock on his face. "It all came back to me." He smiled. "I can say that I didn't make much of a soldier back then but maybe I just redeemed myself. I apologize for the mess and for the drama and the drastic measures. I assure you that the Emperor did not have any subversion in mind, only the good of the Empire."

"Understood Mr. McCullen. I am afraid that the storm has shut down the runway for at least twenty four hours. I have had a quarters prepared for you to stay overnight, if that is alright?"

"I would not defy Mother Nature. That would be fine."

"I'll show you to it immediately."

"Thank you sir. I have to say, this facility is a beacon for the Empire."

"What do you mean?" They began walking.

"Well. Your facility houses some of the worst filth and scum that the Empire has seen. Those who we want to disappear come here. You house the worst traitors, the worst rapists, the worst murderers, those who are supposed to suffer. It isn't easy doing your job."

"It's my job though."

"No, it's understood. A job is a job is an order is an order."

"Correct."

"I regret that I did not have the illustrious career that you have had sir but I can say that you have shined far above. I am here on another means of business actually."

"What might that be?"

"Well sir. In light of your due service and honor you will be promoted to Colonel."

"I'm sorry?" He stopped. They were cleaning out the mess now, dragging the body away in a black bag. "Promotion?"

"Yes sir. Why are you so surprised?"

"Well. I'm afraid I wasn't ever expecting a promotion. I thought coming here would only be the end."

"It's understandable, you are in the middle of no where."

"Yes. Is it wrong?"

"To think that way? Not at all. You certainly have your reasons."

"That's good."

"Yes. The top brass will be here within one week to make the promotion official but I am to tell you that several others will be promoted and recognized, as per your recommendations."

"That is very good news. I can't wait to tell my men."

"A full listing of what will go to who and what not will be e-mailed to you on the secure network within twenty-four hours."

"Thank you." Quickly, they arrived at his quarters and LTC. Mulligan swiped BG. Delaney's card and it immediately opened. The door was concrete and reinforced strongly. "I feel safe in here, I can say." He smiled.

"Yes. We try to make accomodations in a place like this as pleasing as possible."

"You do a good job. I'm going to be waking up at 06:00 here. Hopefully the storm will be gone by then."

"I imagine so. Have a good night sir." The door closed and BG. Delaney looked around the dull looking, prison-like room. There was a bed in the corner, concrete with a thick mattress on top of it, thicker than those given to the prisoners but not nearly as thick as normal. There was a wooden desk with a lamp against the adjacent wall with a networking plug for laptop access. A small bathroom with a stall shower, toliet, and sink was opposite of the bed. That was about it. There was a small stand with a television on it that he doubted got any reception, especially in this storm. He was wrong, it got full reception, but what television did he want to watch. He moved towards the bed and slid off his shoes, loosened his tie, and took off his suit jacket. He hadn't gotten a drop of blood on him, which was due, more or less, to the sheer number of assassinations that he carried out. He sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed, looked down at his cell phone and dialed a number, which was hidden on his phone display. "Yeah. Hello. It's Jack. Yeah. It's done. No. Almost. In time he would have. It's solved now. Good night." He disconnected the phone and turned around, laying down, staring at the ceiling. The entire room was concrete, nothing to look at, ever.

Shortly after 06:00 hours, there was a knock at BG. Delaney's door. He rose and walked over to it, pretending to still be asleep. "How can I help?"

"Sir. I've been instructed to provide you with breakfast." He handed him an aluminum tray with two eggs over easy, six slices of Canadian bacon, two links of sausage, toast with butter and jelly, and a heaping glass of orange juice. "We cooked it fresh sir."

"Thank you. I can't imagine starting my day without this."

"Good to hear. We'll collect the tray at 07:00 hours."

"Understood." He took the tray and put it on the desk. It looked and smelled good with steam rising from the eggs, sausage, and bacon. He sat down and ate the hearty meal, enjoying every bite of it. For such a hellish place, the chow was good and he hoped that those in Force Hurricane could feast the same way he did. As stated, they were back at 07:00 hours to get the tray and by 12:00 hours, he was on his plane, heading back to Layarteb City. Around the same time that his aircraft was taking off from Santa Fé island, Majestic was meeting, again, only this time to finalize plans for Operation Safe Guard. This time, they met inside of Layarteb city, inside an abandoned and decommissioned bunker underneath the Public Library on Fifth Avenue. The bunker had been built during the 1940s and was abandoned in the 1960s and decommissioned in 1983. It served as a clandestine meeting place for Majestic, who entered and exited the bunker from a closed off garden in the eastern courtyard.

All eleven of them were there and BG. Delaney was uplinked via encrypted satellite. Inside the bunker, they were sitting in the main command room, which had been refurbished since Majestic started meeting there. It was state-of-the-art with various monitors, lights, secure uplinks, projectors, and an integrated computer system that linked up everything. Currently, they had the video conferencing set up so that BG. Delaney could see the entire room if he panned through his laptop inside of the jet. On one of the three displays was the map of the Caribbean, on another was BG. Delaney's video uplink, and on the third was the local headlines coming in from the Layartebian News Network. It was muted so that they could concentrate on what was going on throughout the Empire and the world.

"Good afternoon gentlemen. Now that we're all present. Shall we get started?" The Director of the CJA said. He was the figurative head of Majic-12 and definitely not one to cross, even on a good day. "We have everything in place on the island of Grenada. We are set to begin Operation Safe Guard on June 16, if everything goes to plan."

"What is the plan?"

"Mr. Patrick. The plan is to have a group of 8,000 rebels opposed to the Empire seize the island by storm and by surprise. The force is so insignificant that they won't be able to survive any invasion that will follow, which will, undoubtedly be Marines. They are funded well, armed well, and they are definitely going to win, at first."

"How bad will they be slaughtered?"

"Dr. Bush, that answer to that is pretty simple." The Director of the CJA smirked and looked around at the men around the table. "They're not going to survive more than a few days of onslaught."

"And the composition of this group?" Dr. Michael asked, intrigued at the hope he saw in the Director's eyes. "How sure are we that they are even going to get through and get the island in the first place?"

"The composition is mainly Caribbean dissenters, most of them from the island of Cuba. We've got Quebecois, Mayans, and Venezuelans mixed in there as well. They've been trained well for the past six months though for a different task. They're trained in just about every form of guerilla warfare. They will have initial successes."

"There has to be 20,000 soldiers on that island."

"Dr. Michael. There are usually 29,238 soldiers. On this particular weekend there will be, General?"

"12,293." The General of the Air Force said. "To be precise."

"Why is that?"

"We're authorizing a six-day pass for those 16,945 soldiers and having them all depart the island. It is a gesture of 'good will' because of their long service. It will be presented to everyone who has spent more than one year on the island, thereby eliminating those who know the island well and who have the most knowledge. We'll be sending the guerillas against rookies, so to speak."

"What are they supplied with?" BG. Delaney asked.

"They're going to use the weapons of the island against the soldiers there but they will, initially, be armed with M30 Assault Rifles, Carbines, and M34 SLATDW rockets as well. We're not taking any chances."

"Understood. How many are expected to die?"

"We estimate no fewer than 40% of them." General Trumbell said. The meeting continued for another two hours but when it was finished, everything was set. The rebel forces were going to be led by Julio Rivera, a Cuban. On June 1, they were readied and on June 16, they would attack.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Chapter Seven: Colorblind

December 15: Layartebian forces begin aerial attack on Quebec at 0200 local time.
December 25: Ground war against Quebec begins at 0230 local time.
December 30: Boisclair captured by Roman forces.
January 1, 2006: Quebec War over. Montreal secure.


Chapter Eight: Gone Away

January 21: Battle of Clinton begins. Layartebian forces attack RLA compound north of Clinton, Alabama. The battle begins at exactly 10:02, local time. 8 soldiers die initially. Full assault begins at 23:00. Assault ends at 23:40 with 52 soldiers dead and 82 wounded.
January 22: Battle of Clinton continues. Stalemate ensues with a twenty-four hour ceasefire at 07:15.
January 23: Battle of Clinton ends. RLA compound burned from the inside out, RLA leadership and fighters dead from suicide or gunshots. 427 die.


Chapter Nine: Greed & Serenity

June 1: Former Minister of Intelligence dies inside of Nova Prospekt prison, Galapagos Islands.


Confirmed Body Count: 1,618
Unconfirmed Body Count: 1,860+

Chapter X: Bleed the Freak

June 15 - 09:38 Local Time - Grenada (UTC-4)

The island was buzzing with air traffic. Point Salines International Airport was handling far more people than it ever had in its history, especially since soldiers throughout the island were given a pass to escape the island for a six-day pass throughout the Empire. The ILM had done a study and morale was particularly low amongst the verterans of the island, classified as having been there for a year or more. To combat since, the generals authorized the six-day pass throughout the Empire, all expenses paid. Many of the soldiers were going to their families and taking vacations in the Caribbean whilst others just went home. A total of 16,945 soldiers were leaving the island aboard Airbus A310, Airbus A340, Boeing 747, Boeing 777, and McDonnell Douglas MD-11 airliners, heading north, south, east, and west.

However, that was the extreme southwestern tip of the island. Activity throughout the rest of the island was eeriely subdued, mainly because of the lack of soldiers throughout the island. Homes were closed up for the week, locked tightly. Some shops were closed, employees working part-time in other businesses were scarce. The island wasn't crippled by any means but the lack of so many soldiers was definitely noticeable.

On the northwestern portion of the island, activity was increased as well, but not by departing soldiers. An influx in activity in the northwestern portion of the island had slowly risen in the past ten days, which had gone unnoticed until now. Slowly, each day, more and more people arrived, taking up refuge in several housing communities, all cordoned off from the rest of the population. Local residents remarked to themselves about what was going on but they felt entirely safe within the Empire. Grenada had been opposed to the formation of the Province of Raef and favored the Caribbean Republic more but the change didn't change their perceptions of safety. As far as they were concerned, since Grenada was home to the Caribbean Command, they were safer than Layarteb City. That was an illusion but it worked. Little did they know...

Just before 10:00 hours, the some 8,000 individuals within the northwestern housing project all converged on an amphitheater within the community. The dome had been retracted and the small theater, which could hold only up to 12,500 individuals, was normally flocked with a cool, strong ocean breeze coming off the Caribbean Sea. At the moment, they weren't liberty to that breeze but they were all paying close attention to the man at the stage, who stood by a podium, with a microphone. There were no speakers set up and everyone had a small earphone in one of their ears. Secrecy was of the utmost importance and the man at the podium was no fool. His name was Viktor Ivanov, a Kaliningradian who had fought with the KWS against the Layartebian forces and won. The KWS had defeated the Layartebians in Kaliningrad and eventually forced independence upon themselves, only to be conquered by the Fourth Reich eventually. The Fourth Reich had acted far differently than the Empire and the Germanic heritage of the Fourth Reich made them seem less of a stranger than the Layartebians. Unfortunately, for the Kaliningradians, the Fourth Reich avenged the defeat of the Empire and fostered in complete and total cooperation and submission from the Kaliningradians.

"Ladies, gentlemen, fellow revolutionaries!" The crowd went wild, their earphones all working in unison with no delay. "Tomorrow is the day that we have dreamed about. Us Kaliningradians, Quebecois, Mayans, Grenadians, Caribbeans, and everyone else!" The roars of applause and cheers would be at the conclusion of each and every one of his statements. "We are here to realize our own dream. The Layartebians have, for far too long, captured our home lands, polluted our gene pools, destroyed our cities and monuments, erased our histories, and demolished our cultures. We are here from hundreds of different cultures but we all have something in common, an enemy, the Emperor and his ill-fated, corrupt Empire that will fall! Tomorrow is the day! We will take this island, the precious Command Center of the Caribbean Sea. The soldiers are departing and our chance is at hand! The Caribbean Sea will be a vast backyard for our own pleasure and we will remove this spectre of evil from over our soldiers. Freedom, liberty, perseverance. All of these will characterize our struggle, our combats with the Empire, an evil Empire! Tomorrow is the day that this island will be in our grasp, the soldiers on it either dead or our prisoners. I prefer the former!" The illicted a standing ovation. He lowed his hands to have everyone sit. He didn't want to take up any more time away from the preparations. "We have a limited amount of time before this will be set. The die is cast and it is done. Nothing can stop us now." In the back of his mind he could only worry that a guided bomb was on its way towards the theater but he wouldn't let that be known. He was well accustomed to the capabilities of the ILM and he saw it first hand in Kaliningrad. Meetings similiar to this one were cut short on more than one occassion by the devestating precision of a guided bomb, ripping through the roof. He assured himself that this time it would not happen. "Go fourth! Command your dreams! Follow the plan! Ladies and gentlemen. Revolutionaries! Tomorrow is the day our children will read about in history books as the day the evil Empire was dealt its first, terrific blow! Tomorrow is the day that this debauchery will come to an END!"

It was a short speech, only to rile the movement up to fight tomorrow. They would begin their attacks at 03:00 hours, right after the patrols changed over. New patrols would still be adjusting to the "on-duty" requirement and they were all green, green enough to not notice the 8,000+ rebels slaughtering through the island, to seize the main command center. Ivanov would be leading them and he was definitely a commander of sorts. He was a key commander within the KWS and had barely escaped several situations alive, which made him cautious but also daring in certain situations. This was definitely a cautious time. Once the assault began, daring would be his middle name.

The early morning temperature was cool. A breeze came swept across the island from the Caribbean Sea towards the Atlantic Ocean. It was calm and peaceful, completely the opposite of what was about to fall upon the island. Wrath and fury was something of an understatement to what was coming to the island. Eight thousand, heavily armed and highly trained rebel soldiers from all around the Empire were poised to make their attack. They were camped in houses throughout the island, covering every square inch, more or less. Some 4,000 would be assault the capital, St. George's whilst the others hit the remaining settlements throughout the island.

The clocks ticked away towards 03:00 hours, slowly at first but speeding up as the seconds drew closer and closer and closer. The rebellion was ready, they were prepared, and they were eager. They had it all laid out according to plan and there would be significant losses on the part of their enemy. They had several trained pilots, ready to take control of helicopters at the military airfield and also two aircraft, for now. There was little doubt that they would be able to do so, after all this was definitely a well constructed plan. The rebels would seize the airport and the main command HQ first, using vehicles to ram through barriers and barricades. They would seize the helicopters and use them to maintain a level of control over the army and provide assistance if necessary. Huey IIs would provide the best cover for them as they were easy to fly and always loaded with 12.7 millimeter machine guns, 2.75 inch rockets, and they could carry a good number of soldiers.

The soldiers on the island knew not what was about to unfold and neither did its populace. When the first shots echoed across the island at 03:00 hours, it startled many people. Soldiers on patrol recognized them immediately as gunshots or fireworks, they couldn't tell, at first. As they intensified and the radio became alive with distress calls, they knew that something was going down, something major. The rebels in the northwest hit first and hit the strongest, seizing the helicopter port within minutes, storming through with armored vehicles and heavy, automatic gunfire. The soldiers were caught completely offguard and though they responded well to their training and effectively, they were overwhelmed within ten minutes by the sheer numbers of rebel soldiers, attacking from every direction. The rebels were armed, mostly, with Carbines in 5.56 caliber, making them effective against the standard bodyarmor of the soldiers. Two or three shots later, the high velocity rounds cracked the ceramic plates and penetrated. Still, the soldiers massed precisely and returned heavy fire right off the bat, stopping the first two waves dead in their tracks, killing at least 80 rebels. Then, they were overwhelmed and their helicopters stolen. Six UH-95A Huey II helicopters were put in the air immediately, each armed with 800 rounds of 12.7 x 99 millimeter rounds for the HMP-400 gun pods, 14 rounds of 2.75" CRV7 rockets for their 2 CRV7 pods, and 4 FIM-186A Wizard missiles for air to air use. The rebels were off and moving immediately thereafter.

Simultaneously, rebel forces in the southwest and southeast of the island attacked the airport, the military airfield, and the command center. The Layartebians fought hard and the rebels found their quick adaptation to the attack a menace. They expected the Layartebians to respond fast but they weren't ready for how fast they actually responded. Klaxons echoed throughout the island, along with air raid sirens. Civilians all gathered their families and headed for shelters, unaware that the island was actually under ground attack and not air attack. The rebels would use this to their advantage. Sympathy for a rebellion on the island was probably highest amongst any of the Caribbean islands but it was doubtful that it was even a miniscule majority. A margin of 30 - 40% was more reasonable rather than 50% or more. By 05:00 hours, the rebels would have only secured 25% of the island, lost at least 284 soldiers and only killed between 30 and 150 Layartebian soldiers. The more they pressed on it seemed the more and more the Layartebians were dug in. The only thing that they had going for them was control of the airfields, which prevented the Layartebians from scrambling air support. Communications to the island was cut immediately, leaving them all alone. This was noticed immediately in Layarteb City and before the airfields were seized, JOC was aware that something was going on in Grenada but they weren't sure what.

Until 05:29, all of the casualties had been either military or rebel. Civilians had gotten away relatively unscathed except for minor wounds, mostly from fragments and shrapnel flying through the air from grenades, explosives, and gunfire. Huey IIs used their CRV7 rockets to put a serious hurting on many Layartebian positions and the presence of mines on the roadways prevented the Layartebian armor and vehicles from becomming too effective. Dingos and Bushmasters were lost quickly as the tanks and IFVs were kept hidden because of their importance to a counter attack. Then, at 05:29, the most horrific display of rebellion struck the island. Sitting comfortably on the runway at Point Salines IAP was an Airbus A310, loaded with passengers who were catching an early flight out of the island to Florida. Amongst the 220 passengers on board, a full load, 35 of them were military sailors from the Imperial Layartebian Coast Guard, all heading out of there on the last flight. When fighting erupted fully at the airport, to the point where soldiers were engaging the rebels out in the open, the pilots made a decision call to escape the island. Without clearance, as the runway was being crossed by both rebels and soldiers, engaged in a fierce gun battle, the pilots pushed the throttles to maximum and warned that everyone should prepare for an emergency take off and keep away from the windows. The Airbus roared down the runway, picking up speed so fast that it was almost as if they weren't going to have time to pull up before the landing gear failed.

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/Role-Playing/Ride%20the%20Lightning/flight2993-01.jpg

The aircraft sped down the runway, accelerating like a bat out of hell. Then, it lurched upwards, leaving the ground to a cheering audience inside. Soldiers and rebels had scattered out of its way, firing across the runway at each other, shooting between the tires, the struts, and the wings. It was amazing that the airplane took not a single hit. With the whole cabin cheering the pilot and co-pilot, the tension was off and the airplane banked northward as the pilot retracted the landing gear and lessened the flaps slightly, to reduce drag but maintain lift as the plane passed through 210 knots. Passengers looked out their starboard windows to see the island, in the east, and the airport, where soldiers were engaging rebels throughout the grounds. The plane climbed through 5,000 feet and 265 knots, out of harms way. The cabin quieted slightly as people breathed a sigh of relief. Commander John Killgore, turned away from the window and, to his XO next to him he smiled. "So. Do you think they'll cancel liberty?"

"Don't know John. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I just...OH FUCK!" He had turned back to look out of the window, as they passed 6,530 feet, just in time to see a white cloud streaking up towards the jetliner at Mach 2.2. It was too late, the missile had the Airbus locked and it was homing in on the heat trails coming from the roaring engines, particularly the one on the left wing. The missile came at the jetliner so fast, the pilots didn't have a chance to engage the automated flare system, which would have dispensed at least a dozen hot flares from four points around the aircraft and they would have initiated a steep left bank. They weren't prepared. The 6.6 pound warhead tore into the engine and the wingroot, exploding within, shattering the flimsy wing without much effort. The engine had already caught fire and leaking fuel shot a trail of fire from the engine. When the missile actually exploded by the wing root, it severed the wing and the fuel lines, igniting them and the spraying fuel. Klaxons and alarms echoed from the cockpit as the plane rolled to the right very sharply, rolling more and more, going upside down as it plummeted towards the coast. By 2,430 feet, it was upside down and burning brightly. The pilots could do nothing to gain control of the aircraft and the fire had spread. At 1,920 feet, the aircraft exploded, the main fuel tanks finally catching fire from the explosion and massive structural failure imposed on the aircraft by the sharp right roll. Wreckage rained down on the beach coast and into the ocean, some pieces being thrown as far as the airport. The rebels cheered by the fighting didn't change at all. Two hundred and twenty-six people had died onboard the aircraft, six flight crew and the two hundred and twenty passengers.

The fighting intensified throughout the course of the morning and by 10:00 hours, the rebels had achieved 60% of their objectives with 1,239 losses compared to the stunning 2,930 losses they dealt to the Layartebians, most of them killed by helicopter gunship attacks.

June 16 - 11:14 Local Time - Layarteb City (UTC-5)

"Get me a goddamn situation report now before I shoot each and every one of you. We lost our Caribbean command center and nobody seems to know what the fuck is going on! I understand communications are down. I understand that satellites have been tasked. I understand that aircraft are airborne. That was seven hours ago! I want results and I want them now. Blackbirds have landed. Satellites have transmitted. Someone has to fucking know what is going on and I want them to tell me now! How long is that going to take? Understood. If it takes longer than that I will come down there PERSONALLY." The Emperor hung up the phone with a slam. The Emperor paced behind his desk, furious, waiting the sixty minutes for the call back. "Angela. Could you come in here please?"

"Yes sir." She entered the doors only moments later. "Is everything alright sir?"

"No. The island of Grenada has been seized by rebel forces and fighting is fierce." Her jaw hit the floor. "Sit down please. I understand you have a nephew on the island?"

"Yes sir. My brothers' son. He's only nineteen sir."

"What branch is he in?"

"Sir. He serves in the Coast Guard."

"Angela. I'm trying to do everything I can here but this is something unknown."

"No. I understand sir."

"If you want, you could spend the day with your family. You know you have unlimited personal time."

"I understand sir but I can do nothing there but watch the television and cry. I can do that here and be able to help."

"If it becomes overwhelming just let me know."

"I understand sir."

"With that. The reason I asked you in here, other than that, was to tell you that this office is about to get extremely hectic and busy. The JOC is too full for me right now and nobody knows what is going on. We're going to set up a link in here. I want you to call tech and have them over here immediately. Anybody coming into the office shall be allowed passage through."

"Anybody?"

"Well. I'm sorry, I should clarify. Anybody on this list." He handed her a piece of paper. "It's mostly the cabinet and the upper echelon of the military. I have prepared a statement as well for all military families who are caught up in this. It is included in the envelope here." He handed her a brown manilla envelope. "Please have that transmitted to them accordingly, proper proceedures. I don't know how this is going to turn out but this won't be another Kaliningrad."

"Understood sir. Is there anything else?"

"No thank you. If it becomes too much you will let me know?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Thank you and I am sorry."

"It's not your fault sir. There are people in this world that aim to create and aim to destroy. You are of the former; they are of the latter. Those of us caught in the middle have little choice."

"Spoken quite well." She departed the office and within minutes, the tech services crew was inside the office, hooking up the necessary equipment to link the main office into the JOC. It was normally already set up but some rennovations had caused it to be temporarily disconnected. Within a half hour, his office was buzzing with brass, cabinet members, and aides. Coffee, donuts, and other finger foods were brought up to satisfy the some 53 people in his office. Information was sketchy and spotty, to say the least.

When the phone range a mere forty-five minutes after he hung it up, the Emperor was pleased. "Alright. What. Hold on. Quiet down people. Please. Thank you. What can you tell us? You're on speaker."

"Yes sir. Well here is what we have from satellite imagry and aircraft scans, the latter being older. Rebel forces numbering in the thousands have begun an all out assault on the island as shown on the screens in your office. Are they up?"

"They are."

"Alright, in these areas." Red circles appeared on the screen. Technology was wonderful. "We believe they have massed as heat imagry shows significant amounts of IR energy. Later analysis shows that they have advanced along the inland roads, staying away from the beaches. Fighting is intense and St. George's is under the most intense fire. Rebel forces have captured all airfields and airports with Point Salines being the most intense fighting on the island. Our boys are holding up well sir." There were cheers. "I would hold the applause. It doesn't appear that they will hold out. The enemy has already seized six of the thirteen ammunition dumps on the island and all of the fuel dumps. They are operating up to eight Huey II helicopters for air support and they have already blocked our vehicles from getting out of their camps. These circles here represent possible mines, based on the terrain imaging. Most of the fighting is man to man, with the exception of the Hueys."

"What kind of response can we mount?"

"At the moment, not much. We still don't know the full nature of the conflict and with communications down we could not effectively conduct airstrikes without harming our own soldiers. We here at the JOC are unanimous in our assertion that they are on their own."

"So it would appear." The Emperor remarked. "How many soldiers do we have on that island right now?"

"A little over twelve thousand."

"So few?"

"Sir. We believe that the rebels had forewarning that we were issuing six-day passes to one year veterans."

"Yes. The McCaffield study. Fishy."

"Sir. We agree."

"Go on."

"We are leaving the policy to you and your cabinet sir but at the moment we cannot begin military action until we know more. They caught us with our pants down sir. I'm sorry to have to say it."

"It is the truth. Very well. Thank you." The call was disconnected. "Alright gentlemen and ladies. Now you understand, we understand the situation. I want options. Military action is definitely a necessity but what are our other options."

"Negotations."

"I'm sorry, I could not hear you."

"Negotations sir."

"Lucy. You do realize that they will have to contact us first."

"Understood sir. We eliminated the RLA but it would appear that they have not died out fully."

"Correct."

"Perhaps we can try negotiating with them. This can only end bloody."

"You have a good point. Any others?"

"We could isolate them."

"Martin. How long could that take?"

"Weeks sir. It would be a long-term stratedgy."

"But not a bad way to open up the situation. Do we know of civilian casualties?"

"No sir we do not. We can only imagine that they are directly involved someway, whether they are being held, shot at, or doing the shooting."

"What does intelligence have to say about the island?"

"Sir. Nothing out of the ordinary. We will be delving further into channels we don't normally monitor."

"So help me if it turns out we had warning about this one..."

"Sir I doubt it. Had we been given warning we would have acted. It is doubtful that any signs appeared whatsoever."

"I would hope so."

The afternoon turned into evening and everything seemed to have beyond the point of no return for the Layartebians on Grenada. The rebel forces had seized all but one military asset on the island, save for one, the power station. Fighting there was intense and with the fall of the Caribbean Command HQ, the time for the powerplant was limited, very limited. The rebels had lost 2,399 so far and the Layartebians had lost an unprecedented 5,637 soldiers. Usually it was the other way around but, in this instance, they were taking heavy losses. The power plant would be the deciding factor. The remaining Layartebian soldiers were all there. They had lost 5,637 of the original 12,293 and the remaining 4,256 had all been captured by rebel forces. They were being held throughout the island, mostly at the airport because that was where the heaviest fighting had been. The power plant was protected by 200 soldiers, normally, but since the fighting erupted, that had jumped to 2,400 and they were all mad with fury and anger. They wanted revenge for the actions of the rebels and they were going to get it.

Hueys were rearmed and refueled by rebel forces and they had done the most devestation thus far. Their CRV7 rockets destroyed the only eight APCs and fourteen IFVs that the Layartebians managed to muster through the mine-ridden roads. The rebels had done a lot of mining the night before and, mysteriously, managed to stay undetected. Luck was on their side. The Layartebians were fighting hard but without communications, they couldn't call in air support or naval support. Unfortunately, for them, they were far inland now, approximately six miles northeast of St. George's. Grenada's power came from a single power plan with four subsidiary stations positioned around the island. That main power plant was one of the newest constructed in the Caribbean Republic, before it turned into the Province of Raef. It was a nuclear power plant, in the order of 1,600 megawatts. The substations boosted that power generation by at least ten fold, allowing the entire island to run cleanly and cheaply. Losing the power plant to rebel forces could only mean one thing, total loss of the island. If the Layartebians controlled the power plant, they controlled the island, despite having lost all of its military assets. They could be reinforced and resupplied at the power plant and it could be held, indefinitely. However, once it was lost, it would have to be retaken and that was no easy chore.

Hueys bore down on the power plant with some 12 of them now airborne, using their rockets and machine guns to take out Layartebian positions around the power plant. This only drove the fighting inside and into covered areas, though the Hueys still rained fire and fury through glass windows and sheltered structures. The fighting there was brutal and nobody spoke differently. Soldiers were torn up by the 2.75 inch rockets of the Hueys and the 12.7 x 99 millimeter rounds for their machine guns. RPGs and grenades did horrific damage as well and battle wounds weren't even treatable in 90% of the cases. It was a brutal and tough battle, unlike any other on the island. By 19:39 hours, it was over. The power plant had fallen and with it, 2,138 more Layartebian soldiers and a mere 650 rebels. Rebel forces had secured 100% of the island and suffered 3,049 losses. Layartebian casualties numbered 7,775 and 4,518 wer captured. All-in-all, not counting the civilians aboard Flight 2993, some 839 Grenadian civilians had lost their lives in the fighting and now all of them were being held hostage, on the island, by a rebel force that was about to introduce itself to the world.

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Fighting tapered off that night and with the fall of the power plant, it was gone, completely. Nothing could save the island now except one of two things, force and word. It was doubtful that word would do much as the rebels wanted to see the collapse of the Empire. Smoke rose throughout the island that night and the citizens of the island were split 50/50 with what happened. Some of them were in favor of the take over and the others were fiercly opposed to it. All of them were shocked that the fortress of the Caribbean could be taken over by rebel forces. The mighty military wasn't. There was more to the story and almost everyone acknowledged that but it still didn't change the fact that the island wasn't in the hands of Layarteb.

In the Caribbean Command HQ, Viktor Ivanov sat comfortably in the main CIC. He surveyed the scene with his elite bodyguards and smiled. "Gentlemen. It is done." He remarked. "They will want to take their island back now. Shall we let them know what they are up against?"

"Yes! The time is now."

"Very well. Is the camera equipment ready?"

"Almost. We just need another ten minutes."

"Alright." Viktor looked around more, fumbling through the papers that had been thrown everywhere during the fighting. There were nine bodies on the floor and they had no intention of cleaning any of them up just yet. They set up the video camera hastily and prepared the scene, leaving the bodies where they were but arranging the chairs so that Viktor could sit in the center of the shot. "Are we ready?"

"Yes."

"My name is Viktor Ivanov, a Kaliningradian. I have seen the Empire come and destroy lands, cultures, peoples, and beauty. They have torched freedom and riddled the world with their pestilence. Today is a day when all of those who have suffered at the hands of the injustice of the Empire can fight back. We are the Movement for a Liberated Layarteb and we, 20,000 strong, have taken over the island of Grenada, the 'Fortress of the Caribbean.' The island is in our hands and your soldiers are dead and captured. We have 4,518 of your 'brave' soldiers in our custody and their names will be submitted with this broadcast.

"Your soldiers may have fought but they saw the error in their ways. They are ours now. They believe in our cause and not yours. The citizens of this island believe in our cause. Not yours. Your only hope is to accept the situation as such. There is nothing you can do that will change the history of the world. Historians will note today, today as the day that the Empire began to fall, the day that the mighty Empire was not so mighty.

"We demand that the Emperor accept the situation of Grenada as such. Grenada is no longer a territory of the Empire nor is its citizens. Grenada will hereby be known as the Democratic Republic of Grenada, a free republic like that which we wish to see in Layarteb City. We demand that the Emperor step down from his perch of injustice and fascism in Layarteb City and return the Empire to a Republic.

"Some will label us as failed remnants of the 'Republican Liberation Army.' They are wrong. The RLA was a precursor to a greater, better, more capable force. We, the Movement for a Liberated Layarteb comprise Mayans, Cubans, Kaliningradians, Caribbeans, Quebecois, Venezuelans, Colombians, Georgians, every territory of the Empire, seized through guns rather than a piece of paper has a representative within our ranks. Our 20,000 strong will show you that we are here to stay, that this Empire cannot continue any further.

"Grenada is lost to you but gained to us. Should you accept our demands and the situation, we will talk again. Negotiations are unnecessary as our demands must be met. If they are ignored then so shall the desires of the Emperor and his illegitimate regime." The cameras cut out and the video was edited only slightly. Viktor spoke without covering his face and let it known his name and his origin. He fought fiercely and bravely for the KWS and now he was going to fight just as hard for the MLL.

"What is this shit? Every goddamn terrorist group that ever exists has a hard-on for fucking video cameras and drama. I can't possibly fathom this, they all have to make this big, grandiose statement each and every time. Just shut up already, nobody cares." The Emperor remarked in jest. His officer was just the way it had been hours earlier and when the captured list came back, they could tell who was still alive and odds were that most of them weren't. Lucky for Angela, his secretary, her nephew was alive, albeit captured. She took it surprisingly well, after all, what could she do about it?

"Well sir, it is obvious that we're not going to give into their unspeakable demands."

"No. That would be unfeasible."

"Well sir. I have to wonder, what are our options?"

"At the present time? I'm afraid very few. We need reconnaissance on the island in full."

"Yes sir. What form?"

"We need everything we can get. What can we task immediately?"

"Well sir," The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs cleared his throat. "We're good for the moment. We can immediately deploy a flight of RA-5E Vigilantes, U-3A Auroras, satellites, U-2s. We've got a list sir."

"Okay. Well, we're going to have to task them immediately, before they figure out how to control the SAM network."

"That's been fixed sir."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sir, upon the loss of communications we activated a distress signal, which, in turn, locks all of the advanced systems of the island."

"What are these systems?"

"Defense, radar, SOSUS, space tracking."

"Alright. Understood. That is excellent. Task some Vigilantes to get immediate low-level photography. I want to know what capabilities they posses, at the moment. Satellites will be available when?"

"Within two hours sir."

"Understood. And an Aurora flight?"

"We'll need at least six to get it prepped and ready."

"Six hours?"

"Yes sir."

"Why so long?"

"We weren't prepared."

"That's apparent." The Emperor leaned back and took in a deep breath. "I'm willing to accept this situation as the work of traitors within our government, traitors in this very room. Obviously, the RLA wasn't an independent group as we first thought. Perhaps something far more sinister was there, supplying them and funding the RLA to keep them up. Perhaps now this very group is currently supporting the MLL. Traitors they are and if there are traitors in thihs room, and I don't doubt that there are with what has happened here. We will retake this island and you will be uncovered. Your fate won't be pleasurable." He gave away the game plan but only for one reason, to make everyone nervous. Everyone was being watched now and he hoped that those guilty would slip up even more. "Now. Before I go point fingers, I have to ask. Are any of you traitors?" There was silence. "Give me time."

"Sir?" The Admiral of the Navy spoke up. "May I suggest a naval blockaide? There have to be traitors in this very room, there is no doubt about it, but the time will come when they are exposed for who they are."

"Correct."

"I have been mulling over a continuance of events whereby a naval blockaide is issued. Whether or not foreign states want to recognize them that is up to them but they will never be recognized by the Empire. A blockaide will see to it that the island cannot recieve supplies."

"Go on."

"We can open negotiations, more or less demanding them to cease and desist immediately."

"Alright."

"When they refuse to comply we can act with our forces already there. We can have a full Marine Division off the coast of Grenada within three days."

"They are prepared I see?"

"Yes sir. We have them stationed in Cuba. When news of the problems on the island came around, they were activated immediately."

"Very well."

"Based on the photography from our reconnaissance aircraft and satellites, we can devise a battle plan."

"Very well. That shall be the first steps then. Have the blockaide in position immediately and send up reconnaissance flights. I will be able to see who is a traitor by the way their branches, reactions, and such are." He turned away back to his desk and looked around the room once more. "I will not hesitate to personally shoot you myself." Within that single room were traitors, 4 of them: the General of the ILA, General of the ILAF, Admiral of the Navy, and Minister of Foreign Affairs.

OOC Summary

Chapter One: Faint & Numb


October 10: A massive truck bomb in the order of 2,000 pounds goes off outside a newspaper office of the LNN in the early morning hours. 7 dead.
October 11: Missile Base 1511 undergoes treasonous insurrection. Further reports unknown.
October 14: ILN Hunter SSN ordered to take up position off Layarteb coast. Further orders not given.
October 15: Force Falcon Team One ordered to re-establish contact with Missile Base 1511. Boeing 777 crashes north of Athens, Tennessee. All 89 on board are killed. Investigation pending.


Chapter Two: Frantic

October 16: Force Falcon Team One leads a strike on Missile Base 1511. During the course of the retaking, a single LGM-174A Satan is launched at Layarteb City with the intention of hitting it. Luckily, MIM-196 AABMS missiles intercept the ICBM before it could hit.


Chapter Three: Estranged

October 18: Force Falcon Team One lands in Santa Cruz, Bolivia for the assassination of the President of GnOoLoCoPeLep.
October 20: GnOoLoCoPeLepian President assassinated early in the morning.
October 22: Failed attempt by terrorist group to bomb Layartebian airbase in Sunbury, PA.


Chapter Four: Overburdened

October 23: Central Justice Agency begins Anti-Domestic Terrorist Force under the command of Bureau Chief Benjamin O'Davis. Identifies Republican Liberation Army as terrorist group responsible for bombings of Layarteb City and airliner over Tennessee.
October 25: RLA blows up a Boeing 707 and an Airbus A300 from Layarteb Airways over Cove Neck, New York and Belle Harbor, Queens, Layarteb City.
October 26: Emperor makes speech condemning the RLA. Raid on Layarteb City apartment nets 17 RLA terrorists and kills 3. Documents recovered tell of a plot for subway bombings.
October 28: News media is leaked the presence of the Mayan uprising in the Yucatán state.
October 30: Six security guards shot and killed execution style inside the Layarteb City office for Layarteb Publishers
United.
October 31: Secret societies meet to discuss revolutionary plan.
November 2: Two firefighters die in a suspicious blaze in a New Jersey factory.


Chapter Five: Rosenrot

November 5: 84 RLA terrorists seize St. Paul's Boarding School in New Hampshire and take 1,184 hostages, most of them under 18. In the fighting, they lose 2 of their own and kill 20, mostly school officials and guards. Terrorists round up hostages in the main dining hall as parents, soldiers, and police officers, including SWAT, surround the school. By 1300, a standoff ensues. At 1430, three children are executed by the RLA terrorists after a SWAT sniper shoots one of the terrorists. The SWAT sniper dies mysteriously. At 1530, Rome and Norway denounce the seizure.
November 6: Under the threat of a severe winter storm, small group of soldiers enter school and hide in admissions office. Families begin to grow wrestless and plot their own action. Explosions go off in dining hall and a chaotic attack is done leaving 75 terrorists, 152 children, and 38 soldiers dead. Many are wounded. Seven terrorists are captured, including the leader.
November 7: Emperor delcares national day of mourning for November 6.


Chapter Six: Precious

December 1: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island become part of the Empire. Only Quebec remains.
December 9: Quebecois Special Forces use VX gas against Jay, Vermont, killing 384 of 426 people.
December 10: Quebecois invade Ontario during the early morning. Jay Incident becomes public knowledge and Quebecois SOF and RLA terrorists blamed. Quebecois forces make quick and powerful headway throughout the course of the morning, seizing North Bay. RLA base compound in Clinton discovered for its true purpose.
December 11: Roman forces land to help the Ontarians. Quebecois clash with Roman/Ontarian forces in Alliston.
December 12: RLA forces seize 12 MGM-212 CBRR rockets on an assault at the El Jobal Chemical Weapons Depot, in Venezuela. 60 base personnel and 18 terrorists are killed. The rockets are currently "missing."
December 13: Roman forces repel the Quebecoi offensive, pushing them out of Ontario and towards Quebec. RLA group captured in Alliston, where Quebecoi forces devestated and forced back.


Chapter Seven: Colorblind

December 15: Layartebian forces begin aerial attack on Quebec at 0200 local time.
December 25: Ground war against Quebec begins at 0230 local time.
December 30: Boisclair captured by Roman forces.
January 1, 2006: Quebec War over. Montreal secure.


Chapter Eight: Gone Away

January 21: Battle of Clinton begins. Layartebian forces attack RLA compound north of Clinton, Alabama. The battle begins at exactly 10:02, local time. 8 soldiers die initially. Full assault begins at 23:00. Assault ends at 23:40 with 52 soldiers dead and 82 wounded.
January 22: Battle of Clinton continues. Stalemate ensues with a twenty-four hour ceasefire at 07:15.
January 23: Battle of Clinton ends. RLA compound burned from the inside out, RLA leadership and fighters dead from suicide or gunshots. 427 die.


Chapter Nine: Greed & Serenity

June 1: Former Minister of Intelligence dies inside of Nova Prospekt prison, Galapagos Islands.


Chapter Ten: Bleed the Freak

June 15: Soldiers begin leaving the island of Grenada for 6-day liberty.
June 16: Rebellion forces attack Grenada at 03:00 hours. At 05:29 hours, rebel forces shoot down Flight 2993 to Miami, Florida with 226 people onboard; none survive. By 20:00 hours, rebel forces have secured 100% of the island and suffered 3,049 losses. Layartebian casualties number 7,775 and 4,518 are captured. In the fighting, 839 civilians are killed in addition to Flight 2993.



Confirmed Body Count: 13,507
Unconfirmed Body Count: 13,749+

Chapter XI: Goodbye For Now

"It is done. The wrath of the forsworn has come full circle and the enemy is abound. The Empire has felt the fury of the forsaken and of the outlaws. Nothing has happened today could change the path of the Empire but it has altered the visions of the populace. Soon there will be questions, there will be investigations, and there will be inquiries. The past eight months will become the centerpiece of every reporter, journalist, and individual within our Empire. One day everything will come out in force and we will know that this was the crowning achievement of our plans. Continuation? By all means necessary."

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"We have Breaking News now from Layarteb City. Hold on just a moment, this is coming in as I speak. Yes. It is confirmed. Doctor Gordon Gray, the Administrator of the University of Layarteb at Layarteb City has died. Information is still sketchy at the moment but police are investigating suspicious circumstances. Once again, Dr. Gray has been found dead in his office at the University of Layarteb at Layarteb City today, June 17. A prominent figure within Academia, Dr. Gray has authored sixty-four novels and had a sixteen year tenure as Administratior of UNLLC. We'll have more as this story breaks."

22:02 hours, Previous Night

"Yes. Come in." The door creaked open and Dr. Gray straightened up behind his mahogany desk. The office was lit by a small lamp on the desk and overhead lights, all of which were turned down low, to keep them away from full brightness. "I've been expecting you. Your phone call was eerie."

"I believe we've been exposed."

"How so? Sit."

"The Emperor has accused men at his table of being traitors. There were three of our associates within that particular meeting."

"How did he guess?"

"Well he has no names just yet. He guessed only by the 'coincidence' that the rebels struck when the soldiers were not there." He took a seat. "A good guess, no?"

"I would agree. Where do we stand?"

"We stand somewhere. That is for sure. Our problem is that it is only a matter of time before we are exposed, one by one."

"What are we going to do? Has there been a meeting called?"

"Yes there has. Tomorrow evening. At site 50."

"It's been some time since we've been at 50."

"Yes it has. The seriousness of the situation demands that we meet there. Our three associates within the cabinet will not be able to meet with us in person but will be linked in with videoconferencing."

"Understood. I will make travel arrangements."

"They have already been made. You'll be flying out with me."

"That is highly unusual."

"Only because you and I have much to discuss concerning our next stage of the operation."

"What do you mean?"

"Academia is not absent from this plan."

"You are correct. I have been working on my end but it is slow."

"How slow?"

"Publications take time. They have to build up a rapport. You know people don't listen right away."

"I do."

"Word has to spread and travel. This cannot happen overnight."

"Correct."

"So then what do you want from me?"

"Only to continue your task and your plan."

"Very well. Then why are you acting this way?"

"Dr. Gray it is apparent to me and my associates that you can be far more useful to the cause then you realize."

"How so?"

"By being dead." The man pulled out his pistol and shot a pair of rounds into Dr. Gray. His pistol was silenced and not a single sound was heard outside of the office. Both .45ACP rounds passed through Dr. Gray's chest and exited his back, piercing the chair and embedding themselves in the bookshelf behind him. Two brass shells clanged on the ground a few feet away to his right. "Your death will be investigated fully. Everything will come out." Dr. Gray was dead, almost instantly. The man put his pistol away and stood up. He walked over to the shell casings and picked them up, putting him into his pants pocket. Then, he walked over to the bookshelf behind Dr. Gray and, using a knife, picked out the two rounds and put them into a plastic bag. "No evidence. No crime." He walked away and left the office as quietly as he had come, making a stop by the security office to commandeer the video tapes and to introduce a computer virus to the backup system, which would hunt out and destroy the entire backup system.

"Explain to me exactly why I shouldn't look upon this as some form of conspiracy? Grenada gets taken by rebel forces, funding by foreign powers, trained by foreign powers, supported by elements within this very government, and linked into a vast conspiracy that has led to the deaths of over 13,000 individuals since October. Then. The same day that Grenada falls, the Administrator of the University of Layarteb at Layarteb City dies by two gunshot wounds to the heart. It was an assassination. Of course the police have ruled out suicide. The killer will be sought out. It was planned, carefully. There were no shell casings left and the bullets were removed from the wall just after the shooting. I want to know what the hell is going on and I want to know now!" The Emperor slammed the phone down and turned around in his chair. He had just got off the phone with the Director of the Central Justice Agency, the main hub of domestic law enforcement throughout the Empire. Dr. Gray was murdered, that was easily sought out. However, the murderer was careful, a professional, and that was too strange. Why would anyone have any reason to kill Dr. Gray? That question would just go unanswered. "Jack. Sit down, please."

"Yes sir."

"What do you make of this? No. I understand that you aren't a detective but I am curious as to your opinion. When we were both in Delta together our confidence kept us alive in the most dangerous of situations."

"Well sir. From the look of it, and might I ask is there still a media blackout pertaining to Grenada?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps someone is trying to draw attention to Grenada? I wouldn't guess it myself, otherwise. However, look at the scenario. Dr. Gray was definitely a prominent figure within the academic circles. I believe that he wrote several articles and books pertaining to the instability of the island of Grenada and though it was the 'Fortress of the Caribbean' it was the most vulnerable island. Perhaps someone is trying to send a message?"

"Yes. But who?"

"Well sir. There are conspirators within. Traitors within."

"Yes there are. I wish I knew who."

"Understood sir. Time will tell?"

"But how much damage could they do until that point?"

"I would not know sir."

"There has to be something that can be done."

"Give me an order sir."

"Jack. As I have put you in the most dangerous situations ever, I am hesitant to ask you to go into more. You and your men have proven yourselves beyond a reasonable doubt to me and to the Empire."

"Understood sir but that is the nature of the job."

"It is. Unfortunately, for us there is nothing we can do but wait it out, play the game, apply pressure."

"Yes sir."

"When Grenada boils over I want you and your team there, ahead of time."

"I wouldn't expect otherwise sir. When? Is there a timeline?"

"We're going to start with a naval blockaide. We still have two and a half days before that can begin. I have the CJA looking into possible foreign links with the rebels here, the MLL. Perhaps there is a link with the RLA as well."

"Perhaps."

"Negotiations are limited."

"Very sir."

"Prepare to go in on the 21st."

"Four days sir?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

"Good luck."

"Look is for the unskilled sir." He stood and saluted, leaving the office and joining the remainder of his team waiting outside. "The 21st we're going in. Possibly. Make arrangements." He told his men as they entered the dimly lit corridors of the ancient castle. "Outfit for high value operations. Infiltrations. Silence weaponry. We will all have to use high caliber pistol ammunition. I would recommend 5.7 x 28 millimeter because of the unknown nature of our enemies."

Zhongnanhai, Beijing, United Eastasian Republic

"Heh, the glorious Empire of Layarteb, brought down by a bunch of island rebels! Life just seems so much sweeter since I came out."

Foreign Minister Bei raised an eyebrow at Premier Zhao's comment before continuing.

"From what the consulate staff have told us, they're revolutionaries. As in 'declaring a new revolutionary state' kind of revolutionaries. The kind of revolutionaries we told the Party Congress we'd start backing more vigorously."

"Sweeter still. Who's our man in St. Georges then?"

"Nambaryn Bagabandi. Excellent diplomat, has a way with words."

"Well, let Comrade Bagabandi know in the most subtle way possible that I want him to enter a dialogue with the rebels. Find out what they want, if we can provide it then we shall. Give Bagabandi authorisation to make a deal on our behalf."

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

Eastasian Consulate, St. Georges, Grenada

Nambaryn Bagabandi received the news with slight uncertainty, adjusting his spectacles as he met with the consulate's Political Commissar, Sung Mo Kim.

"Beijing wants me to go out there and talk to them? They're toting weapons! I'm a Consul, I don't do that type of thing!"

Commissar Kim shook his head. "Comrade Premier Zhao will be most saddened to hear such counter-revolutionary nonsense. I shall have to contact him and..."

"Alright, alright."

Not knowing quite how to proceed, Bagabandi left the consulate with two guards, flying a small white flag. His plan was to locate the nearest group of rebels, introduce himself and get taken to their leader. Not the best in the world, but he wasn't where he was due to his tactical abilities.

St. George's, Grenada

The island was descended into quasi-Anarchy. The rebels had full control of the island and they were holding the 4,000+ Layartebian soldiers prisoner in various points around the entire island. Viktor Ivanov had a way with words and the entire island had been informed of what had happened. He and his revolutionary band of warriors were entrenched throughout the island and slowly setting up shop. The Grenadians were all beginning to slowly come around but what choices did they have. Ivanov declared Grenada to be an independent, sovereign state in the world and he was sending out diplomatic messages to everyone and anyone who would listen. He and his band of cohorts made no declaration as to what kind of state they would be, though everyone assumed that they would set up shop as a republic. It all depended, more or less, on who supported them.

When Ivanov got word of an Eastasian Consul requesting permission to speak with him, he was all too excited. They had gotten the message and he made that very clear. St. George's was still smoking and still battle scarred but if an Eastasian Consul wanted an audience, he would give him one, as best as he could. The Empire was breathing down their backs and the Empire was not one to forgive instances like this lightly. The naval blockaide was being prepared throughout the Caribbean. Ports in Cuba, Hispanola, Jamaica, Venezuela, and Florida were buzzing with activity. Ships were being stocked with supplies, rations, ammunition. The Panama Canal was closed to all countries supporting the Grenadian revolutionaries. It was war, there was no doubt about that, but, at the same time, this was also an opportunity to lay seige to those who opposed the Empire.

Ivanov would have his meeting with the Eastasian Consul in the governor's headquarters inside St. George's. The Governor of the Province of Raef had been killed during the fighting, more or less assassinated by Ivanov's elite, upper echelon forces. Now, the headquarters was Ivanov's and the island was under martial law, until things could be sorted out. Business continued, as usual, but without export to the Empire or imports from the Empire it would eventually dissipate. Until then, the capital was being moved to Havana, in Cuba. Raef was shaken but it was not in jeopardy, yet...

Consul Bagabandi inwardly congratulated himself as he was taken to see the rebel leader. So far so good. Do well and I might get back to Beijing in one piece.

When he eventually reached the governor's headquarters, Bagabandi tried to disguise his nervousness. Yes, he was an Eastasian diplomat, but he had never encountered anything like this. His usual duties were diplomatic functions and occasionally helping Eastasian visitors who had lost their passports; now he was expected to broker a deal between the UER and the new 'government' of Grenada! Thinking back to how Commissar Kim usually spoke, Bagabandi began cracking his knuckles as the meeting drew closer.

When he was finally face-to-face with Ivanov, Bagabandi nodded to him before extending a hand.

"Greetings! I am Consul Nambaryn Bagabandi of the United Eastasian Republic, it is an honour to meet you, Comrade Ivanov. News of your glorious proletarian revolution has reached the ears of our beloved Premier Zhao, who wishes you great success in all your endeavours. As you are our revolutionary brethren, Beijing has asked me to extend the hand of friendship to you; we feel the same way about the exploitative Empire as you, and we wish to assist you in any way we can!"

Bagabandi kept his hand extended through the whole speech. Please, please shake it, for pity's sake shake it....

"It is an honor to meet you Mr. Bagabandi. The Republic of Grenada welcomes you to our table here. Please, sit." Ivanov shook his hand and sat down after the Consul was seated. The tension in the room was thick and both Ivanov and the Consul were nervous, it was evident. Ivanov was no statesman, that was clear. He was a fighter and a warrior but being an envoy for the Grenadian cause, the MLL, he was definitely going to do the best he could. "The Eastasian people have an interest in our plight I see. It is most gratifying that another nation, especially one so large and powerful as yours recognizes this and assists us. The Empire is unforgiving, this is known. I do not know what they will do but I can assure you that the Emperor isn't going to take our quest lightly. Perhaps with foreign backing and support, by dominant world powers, the Emperor will be persuaded to let the situation be? What do you think of this?"

"Well, Comrade Ivanov, I have confirmation from Beijing that we can immediately begin financial support of your cause, once you provide us with the necessary depositing information. It will be difficult to supply arms and the like due to the Empire's ever-watchful eye, but I am certain that our security services could do it."

Bagabandi adjusted his spectacles before continuing, flashing a more confident smile at Ivanov.

"Also, if for some reason the Empire should successfully invade the Republic of Grenada, the United Eastasian Republic would be glad to assist you if you choose to fight another day. Anyway, that is merely a contingency plan; we hope to see Grenada flourish as an example of revolutionary success. However, as it would undoubtedly harm your position if the Empire could portray you as our 'puppet', we cannot offer official recognition just yet. That way, you remain an undeniable revolutionary hero to the masses of the Empire."

Bagabandi shifted in his seat.

"To be blunt, officially recognising you would be seen as an act of war by the Empire. Any aircraft or shipping we sent in to resupply you would be intercepted before it reached you; this way, the Empire cannot be certain if we are supplying you or not, so we have a better chance of getting aircraft here under humanitarian banners. Perhaps if you publicly agreed to allow our aircraft to land on Grenada with the express intent of delivering humanitarian aid to the stricken islanders, we could actually bring more essential supplies in for you. Just an idea, anyway."

"The Republic of Grenada would like for nothing more than support and backing from Beijing. I understand the pressure of the situation as well as the problems that could fall upon the UER if they were to give full, public recognition. The Empire can be very persuasive and, at the moment, I would like for nothing more than to see tomorrow and each day thereafter. The people of Grenada will come around, I can assure you. I don't know what the next step for the Empire will be but you can bet that they aren't going to let us recieve any supplies. I wouldn't doubt it if they were planning a naval blockaide right now. I don't know how much your government could provide before this blockaide went into effect, thats if we don't wake up tomorrow morning to see two hundred naval ships within an arms throw of our coast.

"The Republic of Grenada has yet to accept a positive form of government. I had always invisioned a democratic republic but I can't be too sure that it is wanted. The citizens of Grenada will ultimately decide but perhaps we can persuade them? Communism is appealing but what would Beijing think of this? We would gladly accept your assistance, your supplies, whatever you could provide and we could accept them right away but how do we provide a repayment for that? Do we join you in communism? Do we maintain our staunch stance against the Empire? Help me Mr. Bagabandi. I am no statesman, I confess. I am a revolutionary, a warrior. I led our forces in victory here, I fought against the Layartebians in Kaliningrad. There are far better men than me who would lead our Republic here. But I am interested. Very..."

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/General/layarteb-news-network.jpg

June 17 was a long day in Layarteb City. The death of Dr. Gray overshadowed everything, especially when it had been publicly announced to be a homicide. "We go live to reporter Adriana Haley at Layarteb City University. Adriana?"

"Yes Shepard. The police have just announced that Dr. Gray has been murdered. Whilst it has been known all along, the deputy chief said, they did not want to give too much away until they had more of a lead on the suspect and they finally do. The suspect, as best as they can tell, stands about 5 foot 8 inches, one hundred and eighty pounds, and was wearing what appears to be jeans and a hoodie. There is no possible match for the face of the suspect as they have revealed that surveillance cameras in the university have had their memory banks erased."

"Are they speculating whether or not they believe this was a professional assassination?"

"They are Shep. This was definitely a professional and possibly inside job. Who would want to murder Dr. Gray is a question they're asking themselves this very minute. Back to you."

"Thank you Adriana. There you have it. Dr. Gray, murdered late last night, probably around 22:00 hours. The Deputy Chief of Police for Layarteb City has announced that it was definitely a professional assassination and possibly even an inside job, the killer and his or her accomplices having erased memory banks for security surveillance systems. That's all, we'll be live with more breaking news as it comes in." The Layartebian News Network returned from its live interruption to its regular coverage of daily events throughout the Empire.

The Emperor was due to make a statement about the murder of the prominent academic figure and he was already beginning to find out more and more as the seconds ticked away, further and further. According to the Layarteb City Police Department, Dr. Gray had been shot twice, on or around 22:20 hours, give or take six minutes, both times through the heart. The killer removed not only the bullets from the wall but also collected the shell casings, leaving the office quietly. He had been invited in as there was no sign of forced entry or struggle so it was definitely someone that Dr. Gray trusted. The killer had then walked to the security control room and introduced a computer virus to erase the memory banks. The virus worked flawlessly and it was something that was developed specifically for that purpose. There were two viruses that had been made for that purpose. Darkman, the first, was created by the Layartebian government and was used by Black Operations Forces, intelligence spies, and other covert operators who needed to hide their tracks and crimes. The other was Projektor, a virus created by computer hacker David Sinclair, an Irishman who, while attempted to create a backdoor into a local bank, wound up creating a string of code that erased its security cameras and memory banks. He had been arrested two days later and charged with attempted grand larceny, computer fraud, illegal computer activities, and tresspassing. He was on his 5th year of a 35 year sentence.

The virus used in this case was Projektor, which, to some people, ruled out the government. However, Projektor was a tough virus to come by and an even tougher one to operate effectively, let alone flawlessly. The individual using it had definitely been highly trained in computer hacking and had even made sure to have it erase itself in the process. The virus had almost done that, had a corrupted sector on a hard-drive cause it to go into an infinite loop, thereby keeping the virus active and a trace of it alive still. The police had no suspects, only a faint image from a security camera outside the campus, which failed to get any angle of the killer as he entered the main office building that was where Dr. Gray's office was. This was no open-and-shut case by any means.

Still, there was more. Professional assassins, sometimes, would leave a calling card, some sort of mark so that those paying attention would know it was them. The more disciplined ones didn't and this individual was definitely one of the latter. No visible, traceable, or viable calling card had been left. DNA evidence was limited to barely anything. There were just too many hairs to sift through and there were no fingerprints. The individual had left not a single drop of sweat in the office that could be discerned from any other ones. After eight hours of sifting through the office, the detectives turned up absolutely nothing. Forensics would be having a tough time with this one to begin with but without any evidence, they were left with nothing. The LCPD hoped that someone would come forward but if this individual had worked alone, that was going to be a minimal possibility, unless someone just happened to be looking out of a few windows with a good angle and remembered every detail. The killer was going to get away with the crime, that was for sure. There were no bullets, no shell casings, no evidence, no nothing. Whomever did it knew what they were doing.

By 10:30 hours on June 18, in Layarteb City all hell had almost broken loose. The media was swarming over the Dr. Gray death and someone had leaked that there had been fighting on the island of Grenada though networks had yet to confirm that development. The Emperor would be on the spotlight soon and he had barely any time to actually prepare for the inevitable shit storm that lay ahead of him. The Layarteb News Network had been running the story of Dr. Gray all day long but interjected every few minutes to announce that there was the possibility of fighting on the island of Grenada. The Emperor had the news channel and several others on in his office, watching it, planning his comments, whatever it was that he was going to say.

"What are we going to do?" One of his aides said to himself but out loud so that the Emperor could hear. There were thirty-five people in his office, all of them mulling over what was going on, what they were going to do, and what was going to be planned.

"What's that? Speak louder."

"Sir?"

"I said say what you just said a little louder."

"Sir. Yes. Sir." He fumbled with the words, "I said sir that I am not sure what we're going to do."

"Good point. First of all, we're going to plan a statement. Second, we're going to find out who leaked this. Thirdly and lastly, we're going to get our goddamn island back!"

"Yes sir." The aide fumbled back around to his corner of the main table, trying to sort through information coming out of the news agencies. His goal, amongst others, was to find out just who leaked the information to the press that there had been fighting on Grenada. If there had been a leak, the Emperor wanted to know just who it was. At no time did he link the death of Dr. Gray with the leak but some where tossing up the idea. The main question that loomed was whether or not Dr. Gray was linked to some sinister, secretive organization within the Freemasons called the Illuminati, a name that would begin to come to the lips and minds of everyone with the Empire very soon. In reality he was higher and more secretive than the Illuminati. He was Majestic, part of the elite and highly powerful and influential shadow government of the Empire, Majestic 12, shortened to Majic-12 sometimes on classified documents. If the government fell, they were in a position to take over, fully and completely. Now that they were one member shy, they needed to refill their ranks. They already had a candidate selected but he didn't know it yet. He had been under watch for at least two years now and he was definitely coerced to be within Majestic even before he knew it.

The island of Grenada, in the meantime, was in the middle of hell. The Eastasians were communicating with the insurrectionist government on the island and they weren't too happy about the Empire. Smoke still rose from the island from several burning structures that had yet to be extinguished. Communications had not been opened with the island since the videotape had been recieved and it was unlikely that communication would be opened up in the future with them at all, except at the barrel of a gun.

With each new step towards recognition, the Republic of Grenada was that much closer to an all-out-invasion and war from the Empire. Naval forces were poised to begin a blockaide of serious and immense proportions that would rival that of the Kreynorian blockaide so many ages ago.

"The Republic of Grenada would like for nothing more than support and backing from Beijing. I understand the pressure of the situation as well as the problems that could fall upon the UER if they were to give full, public recognition. The Empire can be very persuasive and, at the moment, I would like for nothing more than to see tomorrow and each day thereafter. The people of Grenada will come around, I can assure you. I don't know what the next step for the Empire will be but you can bet that they aren't going to let us recieve any supplies. I wouldn't doubt it if they were planning a naval blockaide right now. I don't know how much your government could provide before this blockaide went into effect, thats if we don't wake up tomorrow morning to see two hundred naval ships within an arms throw of our coast.

"The Republic of Grenada has yet to accept a positive form of government. I had always invisioned a democratic republic but I can't be too sure that it is wanted. The citizens of Grenada will ultimately decide but perhaps we can persuade them? Communism is appealing but what would Beijing think of this? We would gladly accept your assistance, your supplies, whatever you could provide and we could accept them right away but how do we provide a repayment for that? Do we join you in communism? Do we maintain our staunch stance against the Empire? Help me Mr. Bagabandi. I am no statesman, I confess. I am a revolutionary, a warrior. I led our forces in victory here, I fought against the Layartebians in Kaliningrad. There are far better men than me who would lead our Republic here. But I am interested. Very..."

Bagabandi pondered his response for a moment.

"I can safely say that if you adopted Communism, official recognition from Beijing would follow within hours. We are duty-bound to support the revolution across the world, regardless of difficulty. Relations with the Empire would come second to supporting our revolutionary brethren. Our people would demand it, and they are the ones who give the orders.

As far as your leadership qualities are concerned, Comrade Ivanov, statesmanship is something acquired rather than natural. You have proven yourself to be a strong leader, and I am certain that your followers would agree that you are the best man to lead the Republic of Grenada. If you have concerns about winning over the island's populace, I am certain that we can help you behind the scenes with such an effort.

You can also put any thoughts of 'repayment' out of your head. The United Eastasian Republic is not here to gain a hold over you, we would back you as an equal partner in all endeavours. The government of Free Palau can attest to such an arrangement being advantageous; all we ask is that you allow us to help you build a successful society here."

"Mr. Bagabandi, I believe that you and I are on the same level of understanding here. I will confer with my brothers in arms and get a response back to you within hours. If that is acceptible, please do not take this as a negative end to our meeting. I believe that I have decided on my course of action but I have others who must agree before things can take place. I may be a leader but this is no dictatorship. The populace will support us, I believe and I hope. Recognition would stave off the Empire; hopefully, although somehow I believe that they would stamp us out eventually." He stood and extended his hand with a smile. He would confer with his other soldiers, all of whom were eager to get something established. Their main concern was the Empire and that was a given, they had struck the belly of the beast, so to speak.

Recognition from the UER would quash their fears and their worries or so he thought. Ivanov was tactical in his decisions and strategic in his moves. This was a strategic move and it would give them something in the long run but he needed to react immediately to the impending response from Layarteb. He had already order his men to fire upon six low-level reconnaissance flights, all of which escaped unscathed. The Layartebians knew what was going on and there was no doubt that reconnaissance satellites and high-altitude aircraft had taken a picture of the island from every possible angle available.

Guantanamo Bay, Cuba

The naval armada was poised and ready. They still had supplies and stores to take on between now and the 19th, when they were scheduled to depart from Guantanamo Bay for the blockaide around Grenada. Being planned for the blockaide were two groups, one Amphibious Assault Ready Group and a Carrier Escort Group from the 4th Fleet, which was in charge of all Atlantic Ocean operations. A total of 65 surface vessels and submarines would set up a blockaide line around the small, 132.8 mi² island. They would set up their position off shore between 6 and 12 nautical miles. Some would be stationary and some would be moving, albeit at under 4 knots.

Battleships and missile ships would be the first and most important ships to arrive. They would be able to lay down impressive amounts of firepower on the island in advance of Marine landings. Frigates, destroyers, and cruisers would protect the ships from land-based coastal missiles designed to destroy ships much further out than 12 nautical miles. Aircraft carriers and other carrier ships would be vital for defense against air threats and for providing air support in advance of a Marine landing. The remaining support ships would all play roles as well, providing the 65-ship fleet with enough supplies and firepower to turn the island into the surface of the moon, littered with craters. The entire group would be coming with 2,511,407 tons of shipping, 29,252 sailors, 1,458 vehicles, and a full division of Marines.

Ivanov stepped back into the office of the "new" Republic of Grenada. He had been sitting comfortably in a meeting room with fourteen elites, who were; more or less, a council of leaders, a council of men who fought as Ivanov's inner circle. The meeting had gone successfully and the council was unanimous. The Republic of Grenada would proclaim itself the Democratic People's Republic of Grenada or "DPRG," for short. The aim was the full and complete recognition from the United Eastasian Republic, which would; hopefully, stay the Empire. That was a guess, at best. The Empire was not known to bow down to threats let alone insurrections. With the exception of Kaliningrad, each and every insurrection had been suppressed so brutally that the thought of it was never entertained again. Kaliningrad may have been a loss for the Empire but it was a phyrric victory for the Kaliningradians. The entire country had been nearly razed to the ground by the war.

When Ivanov sat down at the desk of the previous governor. He sat back and took a deep breath. "And so it begins..." He said as he lifted the phone and dialed the number for the Eastasian consulate. "I would like to speak to Mr. Bagabandi please. Tell him it's Viktor Ivanov of the Republic of Grenada. Yes I'll hold." He waited patiently. "Mr. Bagabandi I am glad to be able to talk to you again. I have conferred with my council and we have decided, unanimously, to gracefully accept the full recognition and support of the Eastasian Republic as we will hereby be known as the Democratic Republic of Grenada. Communism shall be adopted albeit it shall be ruled by a council of sixteen individuals with one being a supreme member. That individual shall be myself."

The phone call from Ivanov was received with much cheer in the Eastasian consulate in St. George's; Consul Bagabandi felt sure that such a triumph would lead to a promotion for himself, allowing him to leave the potential warzone. After informing Beijing of the Grenadian decision, Bagabandi was informed that he would stay on the island as the Eastasian Ambassador to the DPRG; a promotion for sure, but not quite what he had hoped for.

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

A few hours after the call from St. George's, Premier Kristan Zhao gave a live press conference with Foreign Minister Rongyi Bei; explicit instructions had been given to allow access for all domestic and foreign media, as the conference was to make an announcement of great significance. Zhao appeared to be in a jovial mood as he took the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a wonderous situation has come to pass. A new nation has been born in the Caribbean; from the ashes of an old order, a new order has arisen on the island of Grenada. The people of Grenada have liberated themselves from the shackles of imperialism, and now seek the right to self-determination. As you all know, self-determination from imperialism is what the United Eastasian Republic stands for, and we are proud to announce our intention to assist the people of Grenada in their struggle to maintain their freedom.

The United Eastasian Republic hereby officially recognises the independent government of the Democratic People's Republic of Grenada. We offer the hand of friendship to the leadership of Grenada; I hope to have a frank discussion with the new leader of Grenada as soon as possible, to further enable the UER to assist our Caribbean friends."

Behind the scenes, plans were being set in motion. Eastasian advisors would be sent to Grenada in order to ease the transition into Communism as well as providing Eastasian doctrines on guerilla warfare; although the revolutionaries were clearly effective fighters, the Eastasian Self-Defence Forces may have a thing or two to teach them. A Central Party Commissar would also be dispatched to oversee Eastasian operations, as well as to liase between the Grenadian government and any Eastasian presence; the individual selected was Wenyan Fang, a soft-spoken administrator and political fanatic who put most Political Commissars to shame with his fervent belief in the system.

The Emperor was seated in his desk, reviewing the operations plan for the blockaide of the island when the news flashed across the screen. His buzzer rang with the voice of his secretary. "Sir. The Minister of Foreign Affairs thinks you should turn on the television immediately." Puzzled, he flipped on the television to the Layartebian News Network. It was an unusual thing for him to have the television off in his office, if anything it was on mute. The news hit hard, hard enough to send him into a rage.

"What the fuck is this shit!" He demanded as he stood up, fury in his eyes. He was staring at Premier Zhao on the television, giving a live press conference in Chinese. The subtitled translation was on the bottom but he understood each and every word that the Premier said. "Who does this faggot think he is! The Democratic People's Republic of Grenada. Those pesky insurrectionists have gone and got themselves recognition. Well, this marks the day whereby nothing will be the same." Still screaming almost at the top of his lungs, the Emperor picked up a glass ash tray and flung it across the room like a Frisbee. It impacted the far wall with such force that it didn't shatter but rather exploded, sending shards of glass throughout the room, some smaller than a BB, others the size of a small coin. "This will not stand! The Empire will not allow the Eastasians to come into OUR backyard and choose what we will do with our own problems. Never before has a state meddled in the internal affairs of the Empire and this will not stand to be the first. It will stand to be the last! I want the Eastasian Ambassador in this office by 10:00 hours tomorrow morning and if he has a problem with that tell him that his presence in my country is becoming a problem. Secondly, get this blockaide up and out of port immediately. I want those ships around that island as soon as humanly possible. If the insurrectionist terrorists in Grenada do not hand over the island to the Empire there will be blood shed and it will be theirs." The Emperor barked orders as someone bent down to begin cleaning the glass pieces. "Leave the glass. I'll take care of it."

The aide fumbled with the glass in his hand, nervous. He was an intern, no more than 26, just out of college. He landed his job based on the phenomenal recommendations he received throughout his collegiate years and was a good kid, just a little too nervous around the Emperor. He seemed to be afraid of being shot or something along those lines, a concern he expressed one night to his colleagues at the bar, after work. They reassured him that the Emperor may be an authoritarian ruler with a short temper but he wasn't a tin-pot dictator who shot incompetents or failures. It didn't seem to put his mind at ease and now he was being summoned by the Emperor. "Rick. Come over here. Leave the glass. Come here." The Emperor had dropped the tone of his voice significantly but still, Rick fumbled his way over, the glass still in his hand. He wanted to dump it into the trash can rather than the floor but who knew what he was really thinking.

"Yes sir." He nervously squeaked.

"Relax Rick. You're too high strung I tell you. Since you seem to have the most amount of recommendations that I have ever seen from anyone else in the entire history of my rule, might I ask your opinion of the situation."

"Sir?"

"Your opinion Rick."

"Of. You mean Grenada sir?"

"Yes. And the Eastasian recognition."

"Sir. It is tough. The." The words came out more or less by chance. Rick had never been put in such a position before except in a classroom and whilst he reacted under pressure very well there, this time he wasn't. This was the real world and his opinion counted.

"Rick. Take a deep breath and sit down. Do you want some water?"

"Sir. Yes. Please."

"Sit there. Everyone else. I want solutions and I want them now. I don't want to be the only one here presenting an idea. Understood? Good."

"Here you go Rick. Now. Please, your opinion and while the pressure is on, please react slightly more confident."

"Yes sir. I apologize sir." Suddenly things clicked. "Sir. It would be a mistake to throw the Eastasians out of the country. I do not consider them allies or friends anymore, not after this instant display of nosiness. I guess that would be the word for it. Sir. This is an internal matter and whether or not the insurrectionists approached the Eastasians or the other way around, they have no business in our affairs, even if they are supporting a 'communist' revolt. They will definitely be sending advisors and funds to the Grenadian insurrectionists. We must stop both of this. Close the Canal and the airspace to them and declare any ship or aircraft leaving the island of Grenada to be a craft invading upon the sovereignty of the Empire, which will bring its destruction. We must stand firm but not too firm or else the entire world will think we are just bullying this tiny island. Most of the world will, I expect, simply talk about this amongst themselves and few will act. Our October Alliance brethren will offer support and possibly even want to invade the UER. I would strongly advise against that option. It would not go over well in this situation.

"If the Eastasians want to get to the island, let them go the long way, through international airspace and water but if they want to leave that island they're going to be doing it at their own risk. The penalty will be their interception, whether they like it or not. This is our backyard and they will have to understand that point, whether they wish to understand it the easy way and take our word for it or whether or not they want to see their ships and aircraft at the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. Once the blockaide is in effect, anything going in or out will be violating that and whether it will be shot down or sunk or turned around, that is for you to decide sir. We need to send a message but we can't be running around with guns blazing in the air carelessly.

"What we need to stress is that the insurrection on Grenada is an illegal one. There was no occurrence nor reasoning and the people of Grenada are unhappy with it. If they are that will help, if they aren't, that will make things increasingly difficult but hence propaganda. This entire conflict between us and the Grenadians and now the Eastasians will be propaganda wars and we will have to win. I hate to use the connotation but that is what it is, unfortunately. Not that we will admit that publicly. Remember the other side publishes propaganda; we publish truth. I would recommend opening up a dialogue with the Grenadian insurrectionists as well sir. I know it may hurt your pride but the more we make them see that their actions are troubling, the more they will begin to fear the might of the Empire. They'll find some solace in the support of the Eastasians but they're not going to risk their lives and their sovereignty messing with ours. If it comes to a fight, I doubt the UER will stand up to us in full if we were to attack Grenada. They'll denounce and condemn us publicly, that's for sure. One last thing sir. If I were a betting man I would today is the start of a Cold War between the UER and the Empire sir. We must be prepared."

The Emperor pondered the suggestion for a minute. "I can see why you were so highly recommended. We'll see how this pans out. I would like you to stay for the meeting at 21:00 hours and present this idea. I, personally, have a different presentation to make but it shares some similarities. If you do and we all present our ideas I can have a better understanding what we are going to do. Ultimately this is my decision to make and I will make it. Remember, a ruler must be prepared to do the immoral and the wrong in order to protect the sovereignty of the state."

"Machiavelli was a wise philosopher sir."

"Indeed he was. We have four hours until the meeting. Take some time off and prepare something for me and the Cabinet."

"Thank you sir." Eyes beaming, he stood and darted out of the door for his office, which was within the castle as well but on the far end of it. The castle had at least 650 rooms within its walls, half of which were unoccupied by actual individuals. Aides and Cabinet members had some offices within the castle but other Cabinet members had offices in other buildings throughout Layarteb City. The Joint Operations Center was deep below the castle, deep enough to survive a nuclear blast short of a direct hit over 182 kilotons. If Layarteb City was hit with a nuke it was likely that it would take a direct hit from a 1 megaton weapon or higher, hence why there was more than just one JOC throughout the Empire.

Time went by fast between 17:18 and 21:00 hours and almost too fast for Rick, who finished his presentation and had it fully prepared at exactly 20:54, which was, to say the least, almost enough time to get from his office to the Emperor's office at a walking pace. Needless to say, he ran. The meeting would last for six hours. At 05:10, the next morning, June 18, the Emperor had made up his mind. There were many recommendations presented, which included an instant and fully military assault on the island, letting it be, the original plan, and the new plan, which included Rick's ideas mixed with some old ideas. The Cabinet members, at first, were curious why a 26 year old intern was at the meeting but when he spoke and presented his plan, they understood. Many liked it immediately, others took some time, but 3 more never acceded to it at all. These were the individuals who wanted to bomb the island back into oblivion. One person suggested a tactical nuclear weapon but that was out of the question.

The plan was going to proceed logically. First and foremost, the Emperor would give a speech to the Empire and explain what happened, denounce the insurrection, and condemn the UER for meddling in the internal affairs of the Empire. Secondly, the blockaide would be put into effect, with ships being hurried out of port. They would be up and fully ready by 13:00 hours. Thirdly, the island would be effectively sealed off from the rest of the world and basically starved into submission. No ships or aircraft would be allowed into air or sea space for at least 24 nautical miles around its coastline. It was an exclusion zone that would be adhered to, or else. Secretly, the island would be given four months to fall, which was enough time to effectively wear it down and run the morale and rations of the insurrectionists. Then, the island would be assaulted by a full Marine attack. Both the navy and the air force would back up soldiers and pummel the island into oblivion as the army mopped up behind the Marines, securing the areas as the Marines pushed forward. It would be a big operation, an operation that needed to be meticulously planned, which was another reason they would be allowed four months.

At 08:20, the Emperor sat at his desk, in his office, prepared to go on international television. His suit was straightened, his tie perfect, his hair neat, his face shaven, and his look stern. Teleprompters weren't usually set up for any of his speeches and they wouldn't be for this one either. The Emperor had an excellent memory and so rarely needed notes. In the background, two cameramen counted down, silently, with their hands. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Empire. Good morning. I wish that I did not have to disturb you during your breakfasts but the time has come to inform you, the people of the Empire, that evil has lurked its way into our midst.

"Three days ago, on June 15, insurrectionist forces under the banner of the 'Movement for a Liberated Layarteb' seized the island of Grenada. During the fighting we estimate that 7,775 soldiers died bravely fighting for the island, 4,518 of which remain prisoner to this day. Families have been notified. The attack began some time around 03:00 hours and was over by 20:00 hours. I wish I could say that it was thwarted but it was not. Insurrectionists outnumbered and overwhelmed our brave soldiers. Those who died have died bravely in defense of the Empire and its 1.25 billion citizens. Those who are captured will be coming home, alive!

"The insurrectionist forces, since then, have thumbed their noses at our negotiations for them to surrender the island. They refuse regardless of the circumstances. We are not here to negotiate with terrorists. These are terrorists. Freedom fighters do not kill innocents, which is what they have done. Flight 2993, a flight to Miami, Florida, was shot down by insurrectionist forces while it was trying to flee the island. Those men and women and children are heroes to the Empire and they will be missed by loved ones. Retribution will be realized.

"Yesterday you saw, on international television, a speech by Premier Zhao of the United Eastasian Republic. In his speech, he announced support and recognition for the 'Democratic Republic of Grenada.' The island is no more of a 'Democratic Republic' than is the UER a 'democracy.' The island has embraced Communism as its form of government, under the misguided and false beliefs that it will be allowed to stand. The Empire will reclaim its island and return it and its people to their rightful place within the Province of Raef. For the time being, the provincial capital will be moved to Havana, in Cuba.

"The Empire will be taking the following steps in regards to this insurrection and to the fool hearty politics being played by the UER. First and foremost, the Empire condemns and denounces the recognition of the UER and will not accept it. Grenada is not a legitimately free country. The UER are meddling into the internal, domestic affairs of the Empire and this will not go unchecked. Secondly, a blockaide is being established around the island by the Imperial Layartebian Navy and it will be enforced by the Imperial Layartebian Navy, the Imperial Layartebian Air Force, and the Imperial Layartebian Defense Forces. Any naval or aerial craft violating this blockaide line will be treated as a hostile and engaged accordingly. If that means we have to sink ships and shoot down aircraft we will. Air traffic for civilian airliners is hereby restricted to the island of Grenada and nobody shall enter or leave the island. Thirdly, the Empire hereby warns the island of Grenada that if the prisoners are not returned, arms laid down, and rightful rule returned to the island, there will be bloodshed. It will not be the blood of loyal citizens but rather insurrectionist terrorists.

"This is not the first time we have had wayward thinking on the part of a few misguided individuals with hopes and dreams that are unattainable because of their impossibility. The meddling of foreign states in the internal and domestic affairs of the Empire will not stand the Empire hereby declares the Panama Canal and all air routes off limits to the United Eastasian Republic. There will be a meeting today with the ambassador of the UER and from it will come a press brief.

"Thank you." The cameras cut out and news agencies went berserk with the confirmed news that they had been speculating about over the past three days. The announcement by Premier Zhao was given instant attention but now, with this announcement, things were about to drastically shift and change. The cameras were cleared out immediately and the Emperor leaned back in his chair. "This ambassador had better show up."

Safe House, Layarteb City

"Gentlemen. We have a slight problem to our operations here. The Emperor's speech only twelve hours ago were recieved openly by the public. There was not nearly as much discontent with him as we had hoped. Polls show an approval rating, on this particular issue, of 72%. We were hoping for under 40%. This presents something dangerous, especially with the statements from Premier Zhao. The populace is almost unified in their discontent for the United Eastasian Republic. Many cite their communist government to be the biggest threat to peace and prosperity within the Empire. Others describe their meddling in our affairs as nothing more than a prelude to World War II. This was to be expected. However, the main goal now is to drive the approval of the Emperor down. How can that be done?"

"Harp on Grenada. If nothing gets done about it, the populace will grow more and more disenchanted with the situation. They will demand that their sons and brothers and fathers be released. They will chide the Emperor for doing nothing." Dr. Bush was correct in his assumption and the Minister of Foreign Affairs knew this.

"Quite correct sir. In advance of that, I would like to introduce my recommendation for a new member. We must maintain a vigilant twelve. The death of Dr. Gray was quite shocking, I will admit. Whomever murdered him will be sought out themselves. The police are saying that it was someone professional and someone skilled as an assassin. It was someone that he knew as well, as there were no signs of struggle or forced entry. What is your take on it?"

"My take? I have reviewed the files and preliminary reports. Whomever did this was definitely a professional. Perhaps there are those amongst us here that had it, as their agenda, to thwart our plans. I can't imagine that there are more traitors within our midst. We've already had two, both of who we have dealt with accordingly. Finding this killer will not be easy. We stand a better chance finding whomever tasked him for this duty."

"Interesting. How do you propose we do this?"

"We must conduct our own investigation through the CJA. Mr. Hunter, could you aide us in that respect?"

"I shall make it my duty. Dr. Gray was a personal friend of mine, far more than just an associate. His death, to me, comes as a shock and I am a little angry at it as well. Nothing was taken, it wasn't a robbery. It was a contracted assassination that must not be allowed to stand."

"Good. Good. Now. I would like to pass my recommendation for the Director of CEMA. He has been shown to be a worthy candidate. Over the years, our survelliance of him have shown us his true self. He is with us, a relic of the Republic. Remember, he had served the Republic as the Director of Internal Affairs. He lost that position when the Empire took over. He is a worthy candidate. Shall we put it to a vote?"

"Yes." The word echoed throughout the room. All of them had studied and reference the survelliance themselves and all of them had come to the same conclusion. He was to be a member of Majestic 12 but a member that, they hoped, would last in time.

"I am pleased with this. We shall induct him shortly. He is tied with him operations, at the moment. What about Project 'Dark Star'?" Dr. Bush asked one more time.

Zhongnanhai, Beijing

Premier Kristan Zhao calmly sipped his tea as he watched the playback of the Emperor's speech, raising an eyebrow at certain points. After the recording finished, he turned to Foreign Minister Bei.

"How very imperialist of him. How's our man in Layarteb City?"

Bei shifted in his seat. "Ambassador Hisam is ready to face the Emperor, I've briefed him on our intentions. He can handle it, believe me."

"I always do, Rongyi. Anyway, in light of the Imperial blockade, we might have to rethink things slightly. Funding is not a problem, resupplying will be though. However, let us be honest with ourselves."

Zhao took another sip before continuing. "We are not sending Wenyan Fang out there if he's going to end up dead; he's too good a Commissar to be wasted on a group that didn't have a plan for after they were successful. Commissar Kim will suffice; I want him issued with the necessary temporary authority. In addition, we will direct a flight through Neuvo Rican airspace in Brazil and attempt to land on Grenada. Nothing too valuable, just some useful supplies.

Rongyi, I also want you to inform the Layartebian ambassador that I wish to see him. Our ambassador is about to get a dressing-down by their Emperor, I wish to simply discuss the situation and come to a mutually satisfactory understanding. Only cowards and fools deal in absolutes so freely."

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

Ambassador Hasim was fully prepared for his meeting with the Emperor of Layarteb; Foreign Minister Bei had discussed the situation in great detail. Hasim had been sent to the EOL due to his calm demeanour and impeccable manners; he was also a quick thinker, a trait that would invariably come in handy in his impending meeting.

"Sir. The Eastasian Ambassador has arrived to see you." The Emperor looked at the clock and was pleased that it was 09:50, slightly early, a good sign.

"Good. Send him in and until we are finished, please ensure we are not disturbed."

"Yes sir." The buzzer clicked off and the doors opened, the Eastasian Ambassador striding in with the doors closing behind him.

The Emperor stood and swept around his desk to meet the Eastasian ambassador before the middle of the room. "Good morning Ambassador. I hope your journey here was easy. Please, please. Have a seat." He bowed and extended his hand afterwards, sitting down behind his desk. When the Ambassador was seated, comfortably, he planted his hands on his desk, firmly. "Mr. Ambassador, I think you are aware why I have called you here. There is a significant development in Grenada, an internal and domestic problem. Normally this would be of little concern to me and my government but since this incidient has now become international, I must beckon for an explanation from the Eastasian government. Grenada is an internal matter, which the Eastasian government has now announced support and funding for, a political move that has come as a major shock to me. I was under the impression that the Eastasian government and myself had an understanding not to interfere with the internal matters of each others' states. This move completely contradicts said understanding. Perhaps, was I naive to think that there was one? Please, Mr. Ambassador, help me shed some light on this situation." He sat back and would let the Ambassador explain his side of the story and he hoped that it would be a good side.

Beijinig

The Layartebian Ambassador to the United Eastasian Republic was sitting comfortably in his transport vehicle, moving through the crowded streets towards the his meeting with the Premier. He knew that the Emperor was having a similiar meeting with the Eastasian Ambassador inside of Layarteb City and he was fully aware of the situation and the stance of the Empire. The Empire was not pleased about the intrusion upon its own internal politics by the Eastasian Republic and it would not stand. The Emperor made that very clear.

When he arrived his door was opened, as usual, and he strided into the building, being escorted to the Premier's office. Communist bastards. He thought to himself, looking at the massive and ornate displays of the communist government. He hated communism, the Empire hated communism, and friendly relations with the Eastasian Republic was not something that was a simple and quick decision. The Eastasian Republic was as large as the Empire and it served both of their interests to have relations with each other. Both governments eagerly awaited the collapse of the other and as the situation in Grenada became full blown, that fragile and stable peace that existed between both states was about to shatter upon itself.

The whole chain of events in the Caribbean was getting out of hand. While the Realm recognized the Grenada situation as an internal matter of the Empire of Layarteb, the Eastasian recognition of the rebels had made it into a luxury problem for the Cots. On one side, they had a sacred oath to maintain with the Layartebians, but also massive trade opportunities with the UER. The Cots had to find a way to keep its oath without jeapordizing the trade possibilities in the UER. The sollution was as simple as it was genious. The Cottish ambassador called ahead and informed the Premier's office that he would be in later that morning to deliver a diplomatic note to the Premier. He would arrive after the Layartebian ambassador had been there.

Ambassador Hasim gave a warm smile as he addressed the Emperor, recalling what Foreign Minister Bei had told him.

"Please understand that this is not a malicious move. Our consulate in St. George's was approached by the revolutionaries on Grenada, and they requested assistance based on the fact that they are ideological brethren. We had assumed that, with it being your backyard, you would have reclaimed the island in less than a day if you had seriously wanted it back.

We were told that the island would become a true democracy, where all citizens would have a say in the running of the new state. Concerned with the welfare of the citizens who had been caught up in the revolution, our government recognised the Republic so that we could ship aid to the innocent civilians without the revolutionaries interfering. They are incredibly tense right now, and we needed a way to ensure that their paranoia would not result in more suffering.

Now, we had planned to send an aid flight to the island to help the civilians; medical supplies, food, that sort of thing. Obviously we must now leave those people to starve. However, Premier Zhao asked me to offer a compromise. One aid flight, which will land at one of your facilities before moving to Grenada. You can have the crew inspected, the cargo, the aircraft itself. We will provide you, in advance, with the serial number and make of the aircraft. After it is approved, it goes to Grenada, distributes the supplies, then leaves. If you want it to land at one of your facilities after it leaves Grenada, then so be it. We have nothing to hide here."

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

Beijing

Premier Zhao smiled warmly at the Layartebian ambassador as he was escorted into his office; after offering a seat to him, Zhao asked for tea to be brought in and acted as the perfect host until the tea was brought in. After asking his staff to ensure that the Cottish ambassador was kept comfortable if things ran late, Zhao returned to his seat and exhaled slowly.

"So, as I understand it, your nation's true feelings about us are finally being revealed. Well, it's about time, because all the pleasantries and false politeness were getting rather tiresome. That is why you are here, Mr. Ambassador. I want to know the real viewpoint of the EOL regarding us. Are we vilified? Despised? Pitied? Beneath the radar? Immoral? A threat to Layartebian society? From what your Emperor said in his address, we are seen as a fake democracy; were they words used in anger, or his true feelings?"

Zhao stood and calmly walked around the desk; he perched himself on the desk's edge next to the ambassador's chair, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"My ambassador is currently talking with your Emperor, discussing the situation and explaining our involvement; should he have bothered meeting the Emperor? In fact, is there really any reason for you to stay in this nation, because if we're regarded the way I think we are, then I see no point in you being here.....unless of course you're here to keep tabs on us. Is that it? Is your embassy used for spying on us? Are my movements monitored, or am I seen as too much of a moral deviant for your righteous eyes to observe?"

"We are as concerned as you are about the citizens caught up in this insurrection, after all, they are our citizens. Whether or not they were approached leads only to the point that our domestic affairs are just that, our domestic affairs. I would have enjoyed taking the island in a day but no military on Earth could do that. Planning is crucial and vital and the more planning that is done, the less casualties there are. I would rather wait than lose one more soldier than is absolutely necessary. I do not enjoy signing death letters to the parents and kin of the deceased. I was a soldier too once and I never wanted to think of my mothers' reaction if she were to get one of those letters.

"I am a bit concerned with the naivity of your thought process here. You may have been told that the island would become a democracy, I don't know, I wasn't there. However, to expect a group of blood thirsty, ideologically driven terrorists who want nothing more than to suck in wealth and power at the expense of the Empire and its citizens is absurd. Human nature, Mr. Ambassador, is a good thing. The human condition, well sir, that is something totally different, something that can be the most beautiful of things and the ugliest of things. Human nature is just that, humanity in the state of nature, a theory we can never evaluate. The human condition, well we see that everyday when someone murders someone else, when there is war, famine, rape, greed, power, lust, all of those. To expect these individuals to act differently in the same situations whereby greed, power, and lust spawned the same decisions elsewhere is very naive, a major concern for me.

"However, I do understand the ideology and the doctrine of the UER and it explains the will to help a 'communist' state, even if it is in the backyard of a great friend. The UER and the Empire have been friends for some time now and that should not change but I am afraid this incident has shown the UER in a vastly different light. The Empire has never intruded into the internal, domestic affairs of the UER and it should expect the same from the UER in regards to us. I thought we had that understand, tacitly implied, but still.

"Now, in spite of all things, I do not have any objection to your single aide flight so long as we can inspect it thoroughly; however, I should not expect to see more. These supplies should go to your consulate there so as to provide them with safe haven. I would ask that all flights to your consulate be cleared with us first so that we may ensure their safety. I do not trust these insurrectionist terrorists nor should I expect you to." He sat back, slowly, and relaxed his shoulders a little, still pervaying the strength that he wanted.

Beijing

"You seem to point fingers at the speech of the Emperor yet your own speech was just as fiery and just as inticing. If I remmber correctly, I quote you as saying, 'shackles of imperialism' and 'ashes of an old order.' Imperialism would be force of will. I trust you are aware of the addition of Grenada to the Empire and its eventual place in the Province of Raef, a history that was a referendum. The Empire is no imperialist giant that would wish to put shackles upon any of its territories, people included. We would expect the UER to act in such a way if Formosa were to declare its independence, perhaps worse?

"Now, with regard to how the Empire feels about the UER that is simple. We are of different ideologies, polar opposites, if you wish. The UER, apparently sees the Empire as an imperialist giant whereas the Empire sees the UER as nothing more than a totalitarian state guised with democracy, whereby the Communist arty is always the victor. When another party wins it is something that we like to call, a 'rubber stamp.' So please, do not lecture me about government. The Empire makes no claims to be a democracy but we do and can boast that those territories that we currently possess came willingly, on their own accord. There have been road bumps along the way and in certain cases, such as Kaliningrad, we have acceeded to the demands of the populace. The Empire has done quite a bit of good.

"In regards to your latter statements, I do believe that such accusations are ones you should not border on. Those are powerful accusations, ones without which you have any proof due to their invalidity. I would heed this warning Mr. Premier in that the Empire wishes not to abandon its post here nor does it wish to force abandonment of yours in our own country. However, should such accusations be placed beyond this room, without the necessary proof that you would need, the UER will be embarrased by the severe lack of proof. The Empire has made no attempts to spy on the UER, let alone through its embassy. An embassy is a diplomatic telephone, always on speed dial. It is not a harborer of espionage.

"In light of these matters, this tone, and these accusations, I see no more reason for me to maintain this conversation and I respectfully will be departing for my office. Have a good day sir." The ambassador stood and walked out of the office, his bodyguards escorting him. He waited for some response from the Premier and he was prepared to listen to and hear every word of it. The accusations of espionage were not taken lightly and rightfully so, they weren't true. The Empire had no reason to spy on the UER through its embassy, that was too obvious.

Ambassador Hasim nodded as the Emperor finished speaking.

"The Eastasian people always try to see people in the best possible light; that is how we justified relations with the EOL. You may call us naive, but it is optimism about humanity, although we readily admit that not everyone is as peaceful as we would like.

Regarding the aid flight, we shall provide a full manifest of its contents and crew for your inspection before it leaves Eastasian airspace; simply provide us with your choice of 'inspection base' and we shall proceed. Once again, please understand that this was in no way an attempt to undermine your authority in your own territory, merely a mistaken attempt to help those in need.

Well, if you would please excuse me, I shall contact Beijing and inform them of your consent."

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

Beijing

Premier Zhao grinned at the ambassador's response.

"Excellent, truly excellent! Forgive me, I simply like hazing the ambassadors in my city; you passed with flying colours. Although, perhaps, next time you should remember your sense of humour."

After the ambassador left, Ruiyu Xian entered with a quizzical look on his face. "I thought you were going to chew him out."

Zhao tapped his nose knowingly. "Two things to remember, my dear Ruiyu. Firstly, 'if your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant'. Secondly, 'all warfare is based on deception'. If my dear friend the Emperor sees us trying to wriggle from this situation and treating it with humour, he will see us as a pack of capering loons. I say let him. Sun Tzu will prove victorious once again."

"If he doesn't fall for it?"

"Then he shall live in interesting times. Anyway, I believe that the Cottish ambassador wants something from me, so I shall see you later tonight."

Beijing
The ambassador saw his Layartebian colleague leave the office and rose to his feet. They weren't as stiff in the Chinese climate as they were when he was back home in Norway, but they were still stiff. The ambassador was a gentleman of 64, close to retirement but still one of the best ambassadors Cotland had in its stable. Gathering his briefcase, the ambassador was escorted into the Premiers office by an aide/secretary. As he entered, the ambassador smiled and extended his hand to the Premier.

"Mister Premier, thank you for recieving me. I appologize for the sudden arrival, but I was informed by Oslo that this was a matter of utmost importance."

Beijing

Premier Zhao eagerly shook the ambassador's hand, gesturing to the seat which had been occupied by the Layartebian ambassador meremoments before.

"It's always a pleasure to talk with our Cottish friends. So, what can I do for you?"

"Sir, I have been instructed by my Government to deliver this message to you, and to wait for a reply." The ambassador said before retrieving an important-looking white envelope sealed with a wax seal depicting the Cottish seal, the crowned lion with the battleaxe. The envelope was delivered to the Premier. Inside was the message, printed a few hours earlier on expensive paper. The ambassador waited as the Premier read the diplomatic note, hoping for the best.

To the Government of the United Eastasian Republics

"While the Realm is deeply annoyed with the Eastasian recognition of rebellious elements within the Empire of Layarteb, the Realm considers the events on the Isle of Grenada as an internal matter within the Empire of Layarteb, and will leave it at just that: an internal matter. We urge the UER to do just the same, for the sake of world stability and peace.

"The Realm will take no further action against the UER unless we are forced to uphold our duties and obligations as dictated in the TOA Charter. We urge the UER not to go so far as to forcing us to uphold those obligations. We request that the Eastasian government understands that the Realm does not think highly of this incident, and that it will take it into consideration in the future."

[signed]
Prime Minister Thomas Rothsky
on behalf of His Majesty's Government
The Realm of Cotland

"But of course Mr. Ambassador. You should have them land in Havana, Cuba. Your crew will be treated properly and once everything is clear you will recieve a fighter escort to and from Grenada. Should you need to refuel, we will gladly assist you in that endeavor and send the bill to Beijing. Take care good sir." The Emperor stood, bowed, and shook the hand of the Ambassador. As he got to the edge of the doors, the Emperor picked up his phone and dialed the number to the security station. "Yes. Hello. I want a code 1610 on the Ambassador." He barely whispered the words but the man on the other end understood. The castle was lined with listening and visual devices that could record, if the sensitivity was high enough, the buzzing of a fly's wings.

No less than twenty minutes later, the buzzer rang. "Sir. I have our Ambassador to the UER on the line."

"Good. Good. Transfer it in."

"Mr. Ambassador. Are you safe?"

"Yes sir. I am in my transport on the 2048-bit encrypted satellite."

"Good. Good. What happened?"

"Sir. If I may, I'll replay the audio."

"You wore a wire?"

"Yes sir. I always do."

"Excellent. Excellent. Do play it." The Ambassador replayed the tape and the Emperor was quite intrigued. "Interesting. So he accuses us of espionage and then declares it to be a joke of some sort, a test? I don't buy it. You know, in The Art of War by Sun Tzu, in the first chapter, 'Laying Plans' he has a section titled 'Elemental Tactics.' In it he says, and I quote, 'All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack ,we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe that we are away,' and so on and so fourth. I think that, well this is just too suspicious. The Premier is no fool. No head of state makes such an accusation without actually meaning something. My take on it is that he wanted to see your reaction, the reaction of the Empire. Here's what we're going to do. I authorized the UER to send in a single aide flight to Grenada. We're going to set up the blockaide as discussed. The aide flight will be inspected and allowed to pass through, if it checks out. Then we're going to continue our course."

"Understood sir. And my role?"

"As discussed."

"Good sir. I'll take this duty with honor and respect."

"I'm glad to hear." He hung up the phone and awaited the results from the security station on what the Eastasian Ambassador said, if anything, as he exited the castle with his guards.

Beijing

Premier Zhao read the Cottish diplomatic note, raising his eyebrows at certain parts and issuing a heavy sigh as he handed it back to the ambassador.

"We have already informed the EOL of our reasons for getting involved and we are co-operating fully with them. I appreciate your government's feelings on the matter. I am of course saddened that you chose to issue this without consulting me first; I thought we had a better understanding than that."

Zhao paused for a moment.

"Anyway, is there anything else or are you merely a courier boy today?"

The ambassador listened to the reply from Premier Zhao. He hadn't agreed with Oslo on this note, but he had been given direct orders from the official he had spoken to in Oslo to deliver the message as it was. It had been rash, far too rash in the ambassadors opinion, and he feared that this note might damage the tender negotiations that had been underway with the UER about opening additional trading relations.

"No sir, I am merely delivering the messages I have been instructed to deliver by my government." He stressed that the words were those of the whole cabinet, not the individual feelings of neither himself nor individual members of the cabinet. The main hawk in getting such a sharp message through in cabinet was the new Minister of the Interior, who despised all communists. He had been placed in that rather powerful position more by political reasons than by practical concerns, one of the many compromises PM Rothsky had been forced to make over his time in politics. The ambassador didn't like it, but he would follow the orders given to him by Oslo. It was a matter of both loyalty and honor. The ambassador had both. "Do you have a reply to my government Premier?"

"Please inform your government that there will be no need for them to uphold their obligations according to the October Alliance charter. We have explained the situation to the Layartebians, who have accepted our explanation and are now working with us to resolve the situation as peacefully as possible.

Also inform your Prime Minister that I hope relations between our nations will not be affected too harshly by this unfortunate misunderstanding, especially given our past history of cooperation."

Zhao smiled warmly at the Cottish ambassador. "I realise that you are only doing your job, and that the courier remark was unwarranted. It is simply frustrating to be accused of malicious actions without being asked about it first."

"Very good sir," the ambassador replied, carefully shaping his words. "While certain people in Oslo and I don't see the same side of the story at times, I am still only carrying out orders. I shall relay your message to Prime Minister Rothsky personally. I believe he will share your hopes sir. If there was nothing more, I shall take my leave now and pass the message along. Have a nice day sir."

"Alright sir. Now that we've gotten this whole business about an aide flight out of the way, what do you plan?"

"I want the aircraft to land in Havana, under fighter escort. An inspection will follow immediately. After that, it'll fly, under fighter escort, to Grenada. It will land. I want reconnaissance on everything that goes on as it does that, real-time! And I want it pumped into here and the analysts. When it takes off, it will get fighter escort out of our airspace. Once it is free and clear we leave it be. Understood?"

"Yes sir. What are you suggesting for escort?"

"I would say no less than six aircraft, perhaps ten? If six, I would recommend three F-26A Typhoons armed with long-range, medium-range, and short-range weaponry and three F-14E Super Tomcats, armed similarly. If ten, add on another four F-22B Raptors armed with medium-range and short-range weaponry."

"Roger that sir. We do have F-26s, F-14s, and F-22s well within range for escort."

"Understood. Should we provide some sort of backup?"

"We could have a flight of four F-41A Defenders on standby. They're still top secret and they'd never know it was there until they arrived."

"Good. Good. Prepare for that then."

"Understood. Satellites will be vectored over to provide detailed information. We will track the supplies as they leave the airport."

"Very good. I want this. I want to know what goes where and to who, which means we're going to need to tag the stuff as we inspect it."

"How can we do this?"

"We can place small ribbons or flags on the crates as they come off the plane. Blue for food. Red for medical supplies? Yellow or something else?"

"And what if we find weapons?"

"We seize them. We seize the airplane. We seize the crew."

"How will the UER react?"

"Aside from being pissed? They'll try to pass blame to some non-political group or non-supported group. Perhaps a pro-Communist group, terrorist, whatever. It'll be bullshit, that's all. Naturally we probably won't have any real evidence so we'll have to return the plane. Return the crew. You know, the good stuff. So here's what we'll do. First off, the crew will be detained but treated well, very well. This will be unexpected as they will expect us to beat them. Secondly, we return the crew separately from the plane, we'll say something like a ground accident caused by some drunk worker crashed a tractor into the strut and broke the nose gear. This'll mess up the whole plane. We'll say that there was an explosion from the tractor and the hangar caught fire, taking the plane with it. The drunk worker will have died in the disaster. The food and medical supplies will naturally be incinerated in the fire. Well, needless to say, we're going to, naturally, have to pay for the airplane and the reconstruction. This is nothing that bad as we will sell their medical supplies and food rations to anti-UER rebel groups and pay them with the money. It's pretty petty and far-fetched, I understand, but it is a sort of tit-for-tat game at this point. We will need to exact some sort of revenge for their support of these insurrectionist terrorists."

"Understood sir."

"Good. When is the aircraft set to arrive?"

"At 12:15 hours, GMT, tomorrow morning."

"What if the plane refuses to land at Havana?"

"After repeated attempts, we're going to have to engage it and force it down."

"As in destroy it?"

"I wouldn't think so, no. Perhaps we can simply damage the wing and force it to land. Or the tail. Then we seize the crew and the cargo and the plane and return it in plastic bags, bolt for bolt."

"Got it."

"So anything more?"

"No sir. I believe that covers everything."

"Very well."

Guam, UER

"Comrade Premier, the aircraft is ready to depart. As discussed, only aid supplies. No weapons, no nothing. Yes comrade, I understand. Good day, Premier."

The base commander replaced the phone and turned to the pilots with a stern expression.

"You will fly to Havana, where you will touch down and allow the Layartebians to inspect the aircraft as closely as possible. We will be sending them the manifest before you depart; do not worry, it is genuine. This is an aid flight, carrying nothing but food and medical supplies. We will be in constant contact with you at all times; if you should experience any trouble from your hosts then we will have it recorded. If we lose contact with you in their airspace then we shall assume that they have caused it."

"What do we do if we're allowed to Grenada?"

"Drop off the supplies and leave the island. If the consulate staff mention the word 'Confucian', then they will be evacuating. Don't worry, we will inform the Layartebians of that beforehand; they may request that you land for inspection after leaving Grenada; do so without resistance."

"Why are we allowing them to walk over us like this?"

"We are enhancing Eastasian-Imperial relations. Anyway, the best of luck to you, comrades!"

The pilots shook hands with the commander and made their way to their aircraft; before long, the An-225 was on its way towards Havana.

Ynoga Sector Air Defense Command

"Sir. We've got an unmarked flight inbound." SGT. Jeffrey Mathers said as he looked at a display panel monitoring airspace a few hundred miles off the western coast of the Province of Ynoga. "Classification as an An-225 airframe. Range is 4-2-8 miles, bearing 0-9-0. Altitude 36 thousand. Speed 4-6-5."

"Roger that. What's the nearest in-range battery?"

"Sir. We've got it already in range of a Replicator battery and soon it will be in range of a Crow battery. Status sir?"

"Maintain search. Do not track. Warm up the missiles, in case. Do we have a point of origin?"

"Somewhere in the Pacific sir. Perhaps Eastasia?"

"Understood." The sector commander, COL. Louie Marks, picked up a phone and was almost immediately connected with the Joint Operations Command. It took a few minutes but, overall, he was on the phone with the General of the Defense Forces before the inbound An-225 reached the engagement zone of the Crow battery, which had a maximum range of 350 miles. "Sir. This is Colonel Marks, Ynoga Sector Air Defense Commander. Sir. We have an inbound cargo transport aircraft, airframe An-225. Currently it is 3-9-7 miles out. Requesting orders."

"Stand down Colonel. The aircraft is an Eastasian transport heading for Havana."

"Sir? I do not understand."

"Colonel. The aircraft is on official diplomatic business."

"We have no record of that here sir."

"It is an urgent matter."

"Yes sir. Noted." COL. Marks turned back to his CIC. "Gentlemen. The inbound aircraft is to be regarded as diplomatic. Do not engage. Stand down all batteries." Two hundred and eighty-six miles to the northwest of the command center, on the tarmac of an airbase, a flight of three F-26A Typhoon fighters and three F-14E Super Tomcats were preparing to take off. The F-26A Typhoons were loaded heavy with fuel but medium with ordinance, carrying two 400-gallon fuel tanks and 1 300-gallon fuel tank on the wings and centerline, four AIM-120D-9 AMRAAM missiles on the fuselage and two AIM-204A Escape missiles on the outer wing pylons, leaving the inner and center-outer four pylons all empty, reducing drag. The F-14E Super Tomcats were loaded with two 300-gallon fuel tanks on the fuselage, four AIM-179D BVRAAM missiles on the fuselage and two AIM-204A Escape missiles on the wing-on-wing pylons, leaving their wing and inner-wing-on-wing pylons free to reduce drag. On standby, sitting 300 miles away were two F-41A Defenders loaded with six AIM-204A Escape missiles in their side bays, 4 AIM-202B Dodsengel missiles, 4 AIM-179B BVRAAM missiles, and 4 AIM-179D BVRAAM missiles internally in its fuselage bays. The F-41s were backup, just incase they needed to launch and intercept the An-225. The Empire wasn't tuned to having foreign military aircraft in its airspace, let alone that from a potentially hostile country.

The six aircraft set to provide escort were going to intercept the An-225 at a range of 27.62 miles from the coastline, which was the edge of Layartebian airspace. The transmit orders were in place and everything was set. Proceedures were in place if the Eastasian plane deviated from its flight plan and from its escort. They were going to go directly to Havana, land, serve inspection, and then make their way to Grenada.

Six days had passed on the island of Grenada. The populace had slowly resumed their normal lives. They were faced with a seriously uncommon situation. The island was now the Democratic Republic of Grenada and sweeping reforms were planned, reforms that would change the island from a capitalist paradise into a communist dungeon. The people weren't happy. They weren't happy that the island was no longer controlled by the Empire, despite their almost majority opinion against the formation of the province. Their opposition to the formation of the province wasn't opposition to the Empire as a whole. Now they were being led by people who weren't even from the island. They didn't want to be told what to do by people from elsewhere and they weren't going to take it either. Unfortunately, for them, the communist government forces rounded up almost 85% of their arms before they announced their intention. Most of the firepower was now with them and in secure facilities being protected well.

The communist government had created a sort of youth squad. The youth were the most favoring group. They were eager with the change and they embraced a new level of "freedom" that was, not entirely, "freedom." They weren't entirely free and that was about to besiege them hard and heavy. They joined up with the forces and rebuilding was underway, although the initial efforts of cleaning up the disaster and the mess were at the forefront of the activities. Smoke stopped rising from the island and the fires were out. The bodies had been cleaned up and the prisoners were moved again and again. They were in sixteen different locations throughout the island.

Things, on the outside, seemed to be returning to normal, although normal was a whole different level now. However, on the island, normal was nowhere around. Within the minds of the people there was planning and there was talk. Unfortunately, nothing had happened yet and nothing would, not for a while. The Empire had, seemingly, abandoned them. There was a blockaide in place around the island and the ships could be seen from every hilltop and beach on Grenada. Binoculars revealed warships galore, over a hundred of them, their guns pointed towards the island, their magazines and chambers stocked and loaded. One order would commence firing and within seconds over three hundred shells could pummel the island into oblivion, not to mention the hundreds of missiles that could follow. To some, the blockaide line was comforting. Some felt that they were safe at night, despite the troubles on the island. The Empire was there, watching over them, ready to strike fear and power into the heart of the enemy on the island.

The crew of the An-225 were surprisingly calm as they made their way towards Havana; they had nothing suspicious onboard, and there was no real need for concern. They were under strict orders to cooperate with any checks that the Layartebians wished to carry out, as this was the first step in an attempt to restore some element of understanding between the two superpowers.

As they neared Layartebian airspace, the pilot sent out a message.

"This is Eastasian Aid Flight Alpha, set up in accordance with an agreement reached by the Emperor and Premier Zhao. We are on course to continue to Havana for cargo inspection; we would welcome an escort if you have one standing by. Over."

The An-225 lumbered towards Layartebian airspace and all around the Ynoga command center, people were wondering what to make of this. Never before had they seen a foreign military transport of such proportions enter Layartebian airspace. At times there had been October Alliance allies flying around to shows and meetings and what not but nothing like this. The Eastasians were no allies, in the traditional sense. They were merely "partners" or so. The Eastasians were never regarded as true allies anyway. Their communist government of the Eastasians was not a favorable thing for the citizens of the Empire. Communism was a foe that they all loathed. The Empire and the United Eastasian Republic were polar opposites. Now, with a 1.4 million pound Eastasian aircraft about to enter Layartebian airspace it could be either one of two things. It could be what they said it was, the more likely possibility or it could be a Trojan horse. They were prepared for either. The scopes showed no other aircraft trailing the An-225. There were no stealth fighters incoming and no surprises so it was highly likely that it was what they said it was. Nonetheless, they were prepared.

The F-14s and F-26s were airborne already and moving slowly towards the edge of Layartebian airspace. They didn't want to waste too much gas if they didn't have to and, if necessary, they could refuel over the Caribbean Sea via KC-26E Condor. One of them was already airborne and flying a slow, orbit pattern. It had no escorts, none were needed this deep into Layartebian airspace. "Alpha 1. Alpha 1. Ynoga Air Command. Cleared inbound. Six escorts are meeting you. E-T-A three minutes. Advise follow." The F-14s would make first contact and take up a line abrest formation to the port of the An-225 whereas the F-26s would go to the starboard. The flight would pass over an Unforgiven Class CGN cruiser sitting comfortably in the Caribbean Sea. If it was necessary, they could engage as well. Every precaution was going to be taken for this operation and it was going to go off without a hitch, that was a necessity.

Vieques, Puerto Rico

Night time in the Caribbean was the most peaceful of places. On the beaches, the sound of the tides and the waves brushed up against the white sand, bathing it in blue and green, though, at night, nothing but black could be seen. There were no lights on the beaches and the breezes from the sea were plentiful. On the southern coast of Vieques, that peace was being disturbed. Vieques was a largely uninhabited island and for right cause. Most of the island was a military secure zone and the island's few inhabitants, numbering some 2,950, were all sectioned off on the northwestern corner of the island, occupying only 19% of the island whereas the remaining 81% was all in the hands of the military. The island was particularly used for gunnery targetting and aerial bombardment, special warfare training, and other classified things. The northeastern edge was for gunnery and bombardment and that was only another 20% of the island. The remaining 61% was an oasis of special items. The dense jungle of the island did well to hide the activities from satellites and rightfully so. Some of the special warfare training that they did, they didn't want to have anyone else knowing about, especially on the southern coast.

Jungle warfare training was important and the island was perfect for it. In the dead of the night, on June 22, as the Eastasian An-225 came inbound from China, two teams of SEALs were doing just that, jungle warfare training. They had come towards the island inside of a Scythe Flight II class attack submarine, from a 9th Fleet Submarine Attack Squadron. Now, the submarine was sitting 1.1 nautical miles off the island, at a depth of 65 feet and a speed of 2 knots. The captain had the periscope raised and was watching the beach, making sure that it was totally empty. Both teams were set in the two lock-outs, eight per lock-out whereas they could hold up to twelve each. Their SCUBA gear was set and ready and they had four inflatable boats that they would deploy once they were on the surface. Inside the lock-out, they were sealed in, breathing the air that was there but it was soon to be full of water, warm Caribbean water.

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In the CONN, the captain made his final sweep and was pleased. "We're set." He remarked to the chief of the boat (COB) and pretty soon, things were going to take shape. The chief of the boat looked back around the CONN quickly and smiled.

"Aye sir. Initiate SEAL release."

"Aye. Initiating SEAL release." Inside the lock-outs, the red light flashed three times and air began to seep out of the lock-out chambers back into the submarine. Air conservation was crucial for a submarine and they weren't about to let it be released. At the same time, air bubbles on the surface of the water, released from the lock-out chambers was a dead give away that something was around. Though this was an exercise, they practiced as if it was the real thing. The SEALs put in their SCUBA pieces and they were ready to go. Their air tanks would give them enough air to float to the surface, deploy their boats, and even return to the submarine. Water flooded the chambers and they were ready to go. A light on the ceiling above them turned from red to green as the chamber doors opened. Within forty-five seconds, they were ready. The doors opened and they floated up, towards the surface of the Caribbean Sea. When they reached the surface, they immediately turned off their air and removed their mouthpieces. Floating there, on the surface, they inflated the boats and hung to the sides of them. They dared not get in for that would raise their profile. The boats were black and could easily be deflated. It had the buoyancy to keep four people afloat and they were pleased about that, as they held onto it, their heads out of the water, using their flippers to push the boats to the surface. They went with the tides and were bound to be pushed this way and that but that was all taken into consideration. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the shore. Using their night vision goggles, they could easily see that the beach was empty for at least three hundred meters in every direction. They immediately went to work and pulled their boats onto the shores and pulled them into the jungle thicket only fifty meters off the shoreline. There, they were ready to go and they went to work immediately, removing their wetsuits, SCUBA gear, flippers, and their backpacks. They stowed their gear in their boats and deflated them so that they would take up as little space as possible. Now it was time to bury the stuff and they did so, though mildly.

They shallowly dug a hole with their spades that wasn't very deep but deep enough that when they put their rubberized boats in the two foot holes, they covered them up with jungle grass and leaves. On their GPS indicators, they marked the position of each hole and began their mission. They were all ready now, boots on, boonie hats on their heads, rifles on their shoulders, and camo paint on their faces. They were set and the submarine was already four nautical miles away from its drop off point and back at a depth of 150 feet. The submarine would remain on station while the SEALs conducted their mission. It was 04:00 hours and they had until 19:00 hours to complete their mission. Their mission was to recon a small shack two klicks into the island. Their goal was a rescue mission. Being held at the shack were two prisoners who would have to be rescued and brought back to the submarine for escape.

The exercise was an excellent one because it pitted the SEALs against a numerically superior and equally trained force. The OPFOR were SEALs as well and they would be rescuing two SEALs. Their goal was one of total secrecy and they were under strict orders to not engage the enemy, unless they were engaged. This meant that they were completely limited in their mission and would have to operate very effectively. In addition, they wouldn't be able to attack the shack until well after the sun came up, meaning that they wouldn't have the benefit of the night on their side. This was one of the hardest exercises but they were confident that they could pass the exercise. Their OPFOR already had and that meant they were at yet another disadvantage.

The sixteen of them were preparing for inevitable deployment to Grenada and that meant they needed to be in tip-top shape and they needed to be at the height of their game.

The jungle was warm and there was a storm on its way. It was windy above them and they could feel the gusts as they swept through the jungle, the sound of leaves and branches being thrown around echoing in the silence. There were some animals in the jungle, mostly birds, and they chirped above in a cacophony of thousands of sounds. Those in flight fluttered their wings and swooped down, almost to their heads, as they went about their flight. Aside from that the jungle was just that, a jungle. They were invaders and the animals knew it but paid them little attention. Bugs that were disturbed by their movements only scattered, some crawled on them, none of them meeting any demise. The sixteen soldiers were cautious and careful and their camouflage kept them well hidden. They crawled to their objective, moving only a few meters and stopping, keeping their eyes trained on everything around them. They were wary of booby traps and the sun would be up very soon, which meant that they had to double time it to their spots. They would reach their reconnaissance positions in no time, that was a given, but whether or not they were seen was something that would ruin them.

In an hour they moved to within three hundred meters of their reconnaissance positions, which were another one hundred meters or more from the shack, which was in a clearing, surrounded by a lagoon of sorts. They had to keep themselves as hidden as possible and the lagoon would work to help them. Along its edges there was thick brush that they could use to hid in and that they could use to escape to, when they were done. The jungle was eeriely quiet and they were wary about that, as they slowly crept into their positions, one crawl at a time. The were spread out, in positions that were like a curved arc with the focal point being the shack. There was little activity and they could tell with their night vision scopes and binoculars, which cast everything in a bright green color. "Target acquired, 1-2-3 meters ahead."

"Eyes on." Both teams were set and in position by 05:49, an hour and forty-nine minutes into the mission. They had plenty more to go, a little over thirteen hours. The lieutenants of both teams, Team 22 and Team 43, whispered to each other over the radio, which was on a secure link. Their communications wouldn't be able to be heard by the OPFOR, which was one thing that would immediately knock them out of the running. Their communications bounced off a satellite 325 kilometers above them, in Low Earth Orbit. It was secured with 2048-bit encryption, the highest level available for military operations. There was rumor that the Ministry of Defense and the Ministry of Intelligence were working on 4096-bit encryption but with the inability to even crack through 1024-bit encryption, it wasn't at the highest priority though it was in development, albeit secretly.

"In position. All teams report safe."

"A-1."

"A-2."

"A-3." The whispers continued until all sixteen men sounded off that they were in position and observing. Radio silence was crucial after this point, especially when they saw the patrols, if they saw patrols. Their communications set was linked into their EXCALIBUR systems, which basically was a pair of Oakley's on crack. The Oakleys were specially fitted with reflective screens on the insides, which were transparent when they didn't have the computer hooked up. When the computer was hooked up, which was done by a small fiber optic wire that ran from a small computer on their back, they could be linked into everyone else on the system. The computer gave off a beacon signal that went across encrypted networks, keeping HQ alert to their position but, at the same time, in case they died, it was a body retrieval system. They had several modes they could switch into, which was a camera linked up to their rifle butts, allowing them to see around the corners and such. They had an thermal detection system that could be linked to their shoulder and their glasses, which also worked with night vision. They could also link up to a minature map of the AO, which they could scroll around with a small device on their weapons, that could be clipped on just above the trigger. Whichever way they moved the small, minature track ball, they could scroll through the map and access satellite imagry. It was, more or less, a more advanced Land Warrior system.

As the sun rose over the eastern horizon, casting down its bright, morning light, they switched off their night vision and looked intently at the shack. Their communications went only into their ears so if there was an inadvertent communication nobody would hear it but the individual. At the same time, they had a small microphone that hung from their ear, more or less like a cellular hands-free system. It was so sensitive that if it was at maximum power, it could recieve the sound of a spider crawling in the dirt. They wouldn't set it that high but they would set it to three clicks from that level, meaning that they could whisper and be heard clearly, as if they were talking at a normal level. Their weapons rested in front of them or next to them as they laid in the ground there, spying on the shack. They hadn't seen anyone yet but that didn't mean anything. A shack made to look as if it were abandoned would draw little attention and, possibly, cause an enemy to seek refuge in it, the perfect trap. They knew that there were SEALs out there, just like them, all of them experienced and capable, just lying and waiting. They were sixteen against some sixty-four, eight teams all together, guarding and defending the base. Those eighty men, in total, were equivalent to a whole battalion of soldiers in a regular infantry. Capable and powerful, they were two equal enemies going against each other at full force.

They had no visuals on anything except the shack and a small hazy of smoke that was around it. It could be from an extinguished and smoldering camp fire or it could be smoke created by the other SEALs to hide the shack. Reconnaissance was a tricky business and the more they were there, they more they could find out but eventually, there was a point whereby they could recieve no more intelligence. They would have to attack eventually and that meant that they would be well within the beast of the enemy, which was something that they didn't dread but could never be fully prepared for, not an enemy like this.

The hours passed through the morning and into the early afternoon. Around 13:23 hours, they thought that they saw movement but it was unconfirmed. The OPFOR was looking for them, possibly even surrounding them. They couldn't tell, the jungle was silent and it was eerie. The men that they went up against knew it and knew it well, they had passed this test and passed with flying colors, or else they wouldn't be running OPFOR. That was how special warfare training worked. Only those who had passed with a grade of 99 or above could teach. Of all the teams, less than half of those who completed the course could teach. The lowest passing score was 90 and only one team had a 90. These two teams hoped for a 99 or 100. They needed that because where they were going, they weren't going to be the only ones around. So far, almost every team that completed the course did so in a unique way, with few people repeating the exact same attack pattern. There were repeats and some aspects were similar to others but, overall, no two attacks had been identically the same. They planned to begin their assault at 16:45 hours, far later than any other group ever, which meant that they would have to act much, much faster. They figured that the most direct way to attack would be through and around the water, which meant that it was the most trapped. They would have to go the long way around and they slowly, throughout the course of the morning and afternoon, moved from their positions, so that they were nearly around the entire shack in a circular pattern. They disarmed sixteen booby traps in the process, which was something that they were pleased about, especially since they were all connected to loud alarms that would ring and alert their presence to the entire jungle. At 15:52 hours, they were all in position, which gave them just under an hour to do further reconnaissance on movement, which they still saw none of, dangerous and foreboding.

The An-224 stayed solidly on its course as the escorts formed up around it, the crew frequently checking coordinates to ensure that there was no deviation from the flight plan.

"Don't they trust us or something?"

The pilot glanced at his colleague. "From what the commander was saying, there's been a huge stink caused by them because we offered to help the people of Grenada. Premier Zhao authorised this flight personally as a way of mending relations."

"Assuming they don't shoot us down first."

"Are you joking? I don't think they're cowardly enough for that."

The pilot radioed in to Ynoga. "This is Alpha 1. Continuing on course to pre-agreed landing; thank you for the escort, we don't want to get lost on the way. Over."

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

An urgent communique was sent from Beijing to Layarteb City before the An-224 entered Layartebian airspace. The communique stated that the UER was preparing to withdraw its consulate personnel from Grenada due to the growing threat of hostilities; the personnel would be evacuated aboard the An-224. If the Empire wished to ensure that Eastasian personnel were the only ones evacuated, then the An-224 would touch down at an Imperial facility for a second check.