NationStates Jolt Archive

The wind was slow to pick up, but remained steady once it had. The crowds didn't seem to mind the chilly wind nor did they pay much attention to the flecks of unexpected snow that drifted slowly down from God's hands to touch the floor of His earth. It was a cold, gray afternoon in the United Empire of Colerica: another day; another public rally; and another speech by Magistrate of Foreign Affairs Kircer Danton. Kircer, visibly exhausted, stirred in his seat as some underling gave him a rousing introduction. In a few moments, he'd exert the effort to climb out of his rather comfortable chair and give yet another speech to the amassed crowd before them, numbering in the twenty-thousands. It was quite a turnout for such an insignificant city as Horacio.

Horacio sat a mere twenty-six miles outside of Zachara, the Imperial capital, and served only to remind the nation of the bloody Colerican Civil War. Horacio had been the sight of a small battle in the war, just prior to the climatic Battle of Rallen, the turning point that sealed the fate of the Confederate States. Intrigued by the small city at the Battle of Horacio, General Siv Sicoro held a residence there ever since the end of the war, declaring it, "a perfect place to lay down my sabre and settle home."

A perfect place, indeed.

Horacio was situated between two sloping mountain ranges and built up around the rather large Crystal Lake. As a result, Horacio was a different place than the Imperial Capital, simply because of the utter lack of people within Horacio. Zachara was teeming with life and it gave the city an impersonal feeling. In Horacio, you felt welcome. You felt home.

Enough of that, Kircer mused. He was glad to be back to his regular post, that was for sure. Ambitious or not, he was not ready to assume the throne as Emperor of the United Empire and was rather relieved that his uncle, Emperor Maderic Thra, had returned to power after a mysterious self-exile. Now that Emperor Thra had taken back the helm, Kircer was relieved of his position as Lieutenant Emperor Pro Tempor and had, quite gleefully, returned to the less strenuous job of Magistrate of Foreign Affairs. These rallies, however, were killing him. How many public speeches did Kircer have to give in regards to the Emperor's triumphant return to the throne? The whole nation--the world, Kircer reasoned--knew by now that everything had returned to normal; that the "Sith Crisis" had been averted; and that Maderic Thra was once again Emperor. Why did Kircer have to announce it to every miniscule village and town within Colerica? Where was he going to go next--the Imperial Colony of Rilos? Isla de Plata, amongst all of its chaos and war? Foreign countries? Oh yes, because the people of Tomzilla, whilst a close ally of the United Empire, honestly care about Colerica's leaders. A diplomatic eye roll by the Magistrate of Foreign Affairs.

So much rhetoric. Too much rhetoric. Kircer was growing tired of it as he longed for a break. He had decided on the plane ride to Horacio that he would, when he returned to the Imperial Palace, convince his uncle that he needed a vacation. Emperor Thra would give it to him, he was sure of that, even if something about the Emperor had definitely changed since his return to power. All's well that end's well, though, and no one within the Colerican government had the fortitude to question the Emperor's mental or physical health since his return.

"...I give you, brave citizens of the United Empire, your Magistrate of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Kircer Danton!" exclaimed the overzealous lackey into the microphone; the crowd erupted in cheers as Kircer got up from his seat and approached the podium.

The people did like him. Maybe there was hope for a future as Emperor after all.

He cleared his throat. "I'd like to take the time to say that Horacio is one of the most beautiful natural treasures within the United Empire. Its mere presence is a gift to us and I am pleased to be here amongst such a warm reception from loyal citizens." Get to the Emperor; no one cares for flattery. "As such, it is my duty and responsibility to tell all of the miracle we have received: Emperor Thra has returned to power after his mysterious absence. Citing it as a personal recess, His Excellency is pleased to return to his beloved people. He wishes you all the best in your personal endeavors." What rubbish; who writes this garbage? "Heh, Emperor Thra will be delighted to know that Horacio is as loyal to the United Empire now as it was during the trials and tribulations of the Colerican Civil War. You stood the test of rebellion and insurrection and succeeded in keeping the United Empire in power." How well would that be received? Any secessionists in the crowd? "I wish to state that, on behalf of the Emperor himself, the United Empire owes the people of Horacio a debt of gratitude for their service and fierce patriotism. I would not be standing here today if it were not for the loyalty and the sacrifice that you and so many others have made--."

Kircer was silenced forever by a resounding gunshot that sliced through the snowy air and found its mark on him. The bullet struck him in the throat. Two more shots came in rapid succession and dropped the Magistrate of Foreign Affairs to the stage floor, his hands to his chest. He crumpled down like a deflated balloon. Imperial Royal Guardsmen, the dedicated elite Imperial bodyguards, swarmed the stage, automatic rifles held high. They surrounded the body of the MagFrgnAffairs and looked out all around them in all directions. They looked like red fire ants in their crimson uniforms as they zoomed frantically all around the stage, dispersing the screaming crowd and pushing them away from the stage. Maybe there was a method to their madness, but who's to say. All that could be counted on was chaos. Anarchy gripped the rally.

Two things could be made instantly certain: Kircer Danton was dead and retribution by the United Empire would be swift and lethal. Those who had done it would pay for their crimes with their lives. Assuming, that is, that the assassins could be found.


OOC: This is open to everyone. It's also open tech (save for "uber blaster lasers of demented do0m!!!1one!"). Anyone care to claim responsiblity? ;) EDIT: Haha. There was a goof; I labelled Kircer with the wrong title. :p

Update, 10/8/06: It's still very open as I'm reactivating the thread. If you want in, jump in. There's always room for more. :)

Pearson Preilou watched his work from the scope of his FEX-2aB Sniper rifle. Screaming crowds. Fear. Anger. And best of all, death. Nothing a sniper rifle couldn't do, yet all in a day's work. The carnage and screaming made him...content. He loaded another round into the chamber and decided to have a little fun. There was noone anywhere close, his check of the area had ensured that. Looking down the scope once more, he spotted a man running from the scene. Preilou pumped off a shot, not bothering to see if it had gone home, knowing subconciously that it had. He moved from his position, a cautious man who didn't take risks. Lying prone on a small ledge, he scoped out another innocent target and fired a last bullet. As soon as he hit the trigger he moved his eye from the scope, and began the hike towards his base of operations for the Blood Spiders, his band of renegades. They hadn't believed in the Amazonian system of peaceful expansion and diplomacy, and had decided to take matters into their own hands about "questionable" people. People like Kircer Danton.
Preilou sprinted the first 100 meters than began to calmly walk, certain that nobody was following him. His snipers would take care of those who were. Pearson walked back into his temporary camp; several of his followers were lying around waiting for him. Preilou always was surprised about how popular his movement had been; now several thousand followed his banner. The camp, however, only had about ten manning it. He was careful, he had spread out his forces.

"You get him, boss?"
"What's it to ya?"
"Just wanted to know..."
"Well, I did. So shut up."
"Thought you would boss...we're invincible."
"Don't let it get to ya head, or you'll be the next one lying on the ground with blood seeping outta your arteries."

Preilou walked back to his erected tent and sat down in it. They would move within the hour to avoid detection; he had seen to preparations already. Then the reign of terror would begin.

Bress Dayrock, Commander of the Imperial Royal Guard, was on hand at the assassination of Kircer Danton. As soon as the shots had been fired and MagFrgnAffairs Danton had been killed, he had taken to action by directing his elite security forces to secure the area. Guardsmen herded the crowd around in an attempt to control it. When they realized their attempt was failing, they began to shoot in the air to control the masses. One man panicked and attacked a Guardsman; the IRG shot him dead.

An IRG lieutenant raced towards him and swiftly saluted. "Commander, the situation is out of hand."

"Give me a sitrep on where the shots came from."

"The southeast, Commander. We have a fix on the general location."

"Organize all the security-police you can from the local stations. I want a complete perimeter established with in a half hour. No one enters or exits without our permission. The entire city is to be under control."

"Yes, Sir, as per standard protocol. We are to assume that this was a single shooter, but we cannot be certain."

"Understandable," Dayrock said. "Corral these people to a different place. Secure them."

"Yes, Sir."

"Lieutenant, I cannot stress enough the negative reaction this is going to bring from the Emperor. Let us save face by capturing or killing this assassin as soon as we can."

"I agree, Sir. We're making an move for it."

"No, no--don't. I've called for perimeter lockdown in a one hundred mile radius of this city. Military assistance is already en route and detachments from the 2nd ID will be here in short order. Lockdown the city and then find the killer."

"I agree, Sir. We've thrown choppers into the area to recon for any movement."

"Good work, Lieutenant. Now execute."

"Yes, Sir," he said, snapped a salute, and raced off.

Their plan was simple enough: a total and complete lockdown of the area. Not hard to execute in the United Empire, considering the very nature of the nation and her commitment to total security. Nothing spelled out "safety" quite like the authoritarian Colerica. With GPS barcodes on every citizen, a complete lack of an armed populace, and security checkpoints on every road and city entrance/exit, there were few means of escape and the IRG would use that to their advantage. The assassins had to be somewhere near and they would find them in due time. Detachments from the Second Imperial Infantry Division were en route to Horacio to facilitate martial law and complete the lockdown perimeter.

ooc: when news of this breaks, the UK would be willing to help its friend and ally from the Confederacy in whatever capacity it can.

ooc: when news of this breaks, the UK would be willing to help its friend and ally from the Confederacy in whatever capacity it can.

OOC: Of course. :D

IC:

This is Kristen Movan of the Colerica Imperial News network with an emergency breaking news announcement. Moments ago, Magistrate of Foreign Affairs Kircer Danton was assassinated in the city of Horacio while delivering a speech at a public gathering. No word has been yet revealed on the whereabouts of the assassin or assasssins, but we have been assured by officials that martial law has been instilled in the area; a lockdown is in effect; and that the murderers will be caught and punished. More on the story as we recieve it.

The Royal Palace at Newcastle

Daniel Collins had not anticipated the degree to which the new sovereign of the United Kingdom would seek his counsel and advice and as his armoured limousine endured the perilous trek up what Collins found to be a laughable cliché of a winding mountain road, he wondered to what extent his counsel would truly be heeded. Newly arrived to the office of Prime Minister, Collins had allied himself with then Prince Andrew before King Michael I passed away, leaving to step to the throne a man that Collins and many others in Parliament knew only wanted absolute rule over the UK. That was how Collins understood the matter, his premiership sought to hold the line of a near presidential Prime Minister against an absolute monarch.

As the massive front gates were lowered, the usual pomp and circumstance awaited Collins with the massive flags and banners, the ornately and often garishly dressed royal servants and attendants. He found it unnerving in the severity of the contrast to Collins’ own more modern style of dress and governance. Nonetheless, he entertained the new king by partaking in what had been thought long lost traditions recognizing the sovereignty of His Majesty. Collins loathed the fact that for half an hour his position as Prime Minister was denigrated by Newcastle as he was kept waiting while King Andrew leisurely finished his afternoon tea.

When the massive doors to the private living room of King Andrew were opened, the aged wood groaning in resistance, Collins found himself staring directly at the signs of royalty as massive crystal chandeliers hung delicately from the ceiling, reflecting the sunlight streaming in from the massive windows upon all the walls and ceilings – all of which decorated by massive frescoes of vibrant blues and earthly reds depicting the power and prestige of not just the United Kingdom but its Sovereign. Welcome, Daniel, came the joyous voice from the unusually tall man who called himself King. What is it that requires my attention, today?

A situation has been developing in the United Empire of Colerica, Your Majesty.

Well do make it quick, I have an equestrian outing in an hour or so and I must get myself and my horse ready. Have you ever been riding, Daniel?

No, Sire, I have not.

That’s a shame. Anyway, what of Colerica?

Your Majesty, ABN News is reporting that Kircer Danton has been assassinated while delivering a speech. As one of the most powerful men in the United Empire, perhaps the most important after the Emperor himself, there is the distinct possibility that this is a move against the government either directly or through the desire to create instability that will cause the collapse of the Thra administration.

King Andrew daintily wiped the corners of his mouth, removing the traces of the tea sandwich he had finished eating. And what are the Colericans doing about the situation?

Sire, it appears from Colerican reports that the city where the shooting occurred is under lockdown and martial law. However, with your permission of course, I would like to send an offer of assistance to the Emperor.

What sort of assistance are we talking about?

Perhaps members of the Secret Intelligence Service, Your Majesty.

No, we need them to hunt down Tetley and his gang of rabble rousers. They did good work in sinking that freighter near Pacitalia and eliminating one of his deputies but they need to find and eliminate Tetley himself. What about dispatching a small cruiser squadron for a show of support and then some civilian investigators to aid their police?

Your Majesty, Collins replied with a half-sigh. The Colericans are more than likely using their royal guard units for the investigation and it would be best if we sent over some of our own. I doubt they’d very much appreciate sending in civilians where they think military personnel should be operating.

Very well, then, Daniel. Send the message and after my outing I want a status report on both this situation and an update on the progress of finding Tetley.

Yes, Your Majesty.

Attn: Emperor Maderic Thra

I wish that the circumstances of this first communication between the United Kingdom’s new government and your own were far more joyous. However, despite the tragedy we offer our continued support to your government and are willing to send a small naval squadron with officers of the New Britain Royal Dragoons Guard to assist you in your investigation. Of course this is only should you be desirous of our assistance as the United Kingdom has complete faith in the capabilities of your Imperial Royal Guard to fulfill their duties and obligations.

The condolences of the people of the United Kingdom, myself, and His Majesty King Andrew are offered to you in this time of what is surely a great personal and national loss.

Daniel Collins
Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

Zachara, 11:30:

Keenan Alexander stood before the massive commercial building in downtown Zachara. He had to admit the boss was doing well...they had completely avoided detection from the probing authorities. Now he would finally have his chance to do something.
Alexander was dressed like all the other people roaming the streets in the late morning. Nothing seperated him, the renegade terrorist, from the other busy people going about their lives. Except he had a gola in mind, a goal of destruction, a goal to glorify himself and his organization.
Alexander walked casually around the base of the building, taking care to look as normal as possible. He wasn't worried about being caught. Preilou had taught him what to do if he was. He pulled a small canister, resembling a camera in a way, out of his pocket. He turned the package over in his hands...more than enough thermite to take out the building...and everyone inside. He glanced around for a brief fraction of a second, ensuring that noone was looking his direction. Alexander set a small, 2-minute timer on the device than tossed it lightly, to avoid accidental premature detonation, into a bush next to the towering skyscraper. Hearing the first clicks go off towards detonation, he calmly walked away, waiting for the moment when people would meet their final doom...and this was just the beginning.

Zachara, 11:30:

Keenan Alexander stood before the massive commercial building in downtown Zachara. He had to admit the boss was doing well...they had completely avoided detection from the probing authorities. Now he would finally have his chance to do something.
Alexander was dressed like all the other people roaming the streets in the late morning. Nothing seperated him, the renegade terrorist, from the other busy people going about their lives. Except he had a gola in mind, a goal of destruction, a goal to glorify himself and his organization.
Alexander walked casually around the base of the building, taking care to look as normal as possible. He wasn't worried about being caught. Preilou had taught him what to do if he was. He pulled a small canister, resembling a camera in a way, out of his pocket. He turned the package over in his hands...more than enough thermite to take out the building...and everyone inside. He glanced around for a brief fraction of a second, ensuring that noone was looking his direction. Alexander set a small, 2-minute timer on the device than tossed it lightly, to avoid accidental premature detonation, into a bush next to the towering skyscraper. Hearing the first clicks go off towards detonation, he calmly walked away, waiting for the moment when people would meet their final doom...and this was just the beginning.

OOC: I like this and all...this could go in some interesting directions...but you have to realize there's only so much of this you can get away with, just because of the nature of my government. :)

The oppressive, fascist government of the UEC is omni-present. It sees all, hears all, and knows all. There are spies literally in every city, town, and village. There is little that occurs in the UEC without the government knowing it. Everyone is bar-coded to keep track of their movements at all times. An intense security network with checkpoints at every city, (no one enters or exits without the gov't knowing of it), seems to stop terrorists and foreign spies dead in their tracks

~ Colerica factbook. :)

But, as it is now, this is an interesting twist to the RP.

IC:

This is Kristen Movan of the Colerica Imperial News network, we bring you live to the financial district of Zachara where an explosion has rocked the Imperial capital. Pieces of information are still trickling in, but it appears that just before eleven thirty Imperial Standard Time, a bomb was planted at Faraway Accounting's business headquarters. Within minutes, the explosive detonated, causing great damage to the building, but not toppling, though the fear of structural collapse remains great. An estimatation on casualities is not yet concrete, though in excess of eight thousand people work within the Faraway towers. Security-police have been dispatched to quarantine the area and emergency personell have gathered at the scene.

This comes just hours removed from the shocking assassination of Magistrate of Foreign Affairs Kircer Danton. Surely, the two tragic events are correlated. We will continue to cover this as it progresses.

HMS Exeter
Philadelphia, Republic of Bennington

Fred Barnes twirled a yellow hexagonal pencil between his fingers while his eyes darted back and forth across a wide, high-resolution computer screen that relayed the incoming and outgoing messages to and from his ship. A lieutenant in the Royal Navy, Barnes had been appointed as communications officer onboard the new cruiser HMS Exeter and he frequently found himself bored out of his mind as he trained his department in the new ship-wide integrated network, which allowed for near-instantaneous updates of any information anywhere in the ship.

She was a clean-looking ship, neat lines with a clipper bow and modern, angled surfaces to deflect radar. As a cruiser, she was minimally armed compared to the battleships and dreadnoughts that rest moored at the far side of the naval base, their own crews performing their own perfunctory duties while ships out at sea did the actual perimeter defence. Barnes, a moderately built brown-haired lad from Calne, Rimbaldt knew they would be slipping away from the docks in a little while. The morning briefing by Captain Rebecca Torvey had been focused on their new orders, which Barnes had logged as received, that had the Exeter departing from Philadelphia to the United Empire of Colerica, one of the United Kingdom’s allies from the Imperial Confederacy.

It was that moment, just after the pencil dropped to the deck and Barnes stooped to retrieve it that a small window popped up on his screen, an open communiqué from Breningrad, the home of the Royal Navy. Finding the sleek, black corded phone next to his keyboard, Barnes dialed his captain’s quarters and waited three rings before the deceitfully soft voice of Torvey responded with a gentle, Yes?

Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but we’re receiving an open communiqué from Breningrad.

Can you patch it through down here, Lieutenant?

Certainly, ma’am.

Thank you, Lieutenant. Torvey struggled to find her own receiver in which to place her phone. She frowned as she realised that despite the fact she was off duty she’d have to get up and interrupt her brief nap. At the age of thirty-six, Torvey had achieved the rank of captain – one of the few in the supposedly gender-equal Royal Navy – but had yet to acclimate to her new command, one of the Royal Navy’s newest cruisers. The Queensbury class was of solid design, at least on paper. Neither she nor the Admiralty knew exactly how she would fare in combat, although in theory her deployment to Colerica would not involve combat. What Torvey did know was that rather quickly, the best laid plans fell apart.

Splashing her thin, angled face with a handful of cold water, she grabbed a hand towel and flipped open her laptop that was tied into the cruiser’s network. Typing in her passcode, she found the file Barnes had informed her about and double-clicked, revealing a small text file with attached satellite images and one video file. Draping the towel over the back of her seat, she stretched out her arms to turn on the personal water heater as she reached into her desk drawer to pull out a tin of teas from throughout the UK. Selecting her favourite, a local twist on the still popular Earl Grey, Torvey settled into her chair and opened the files while the water heated. As the water boiled, she reviewed the images and information on the bomb blast in Zachara.

That’s a damn bit peculiar, she muttered to herself, turning off the water heater and then standing to pour the hot water over the silken tea bag. The Colericans have an absolutely tight internal security service, how’d this happen? She ran a hand through her thick brown hair before allowing her nails to scratch the itch on the back of her neck. Regardless of how, she knew that the Colericans would be mighty ticked about this egregious lapse in security. She smiled for a brief moment, thinking of how glad she was that she wasn’t in an Imperial Royal Guard interrogation room at the moment. But with one last glance at the video of the high-rise still sending smoke into the air she tossed her tea bag and closed the files on her laptop before turning it off. Quickly ripping open two packets of sugar, and retrieving a small bottle of cold milk from her micro-fridge she fixed her tea before throwing on her blouse and buttoning it right on up, well aware any loose or forgotten buttons would cause the men to lose focus – given their base interest in her breasts, which she considered rather proportional for her slender physique.

For his part, Barnes had found his rythmn once more and the pencil twirled in a blaze of yellow between his fingers. Absorbed in the news articles he was reading in relation to the bombing in Zachara he never heard the quiet footsteps of his captain and so nearly jumped when he heard her voice behind him.

Anything new, Lieutenant Barnes?

Uh, no, ma’am. As of right now they don’t know did what, just that there’s likely to be some dead bodies.

I meant from Breningrad, Fred.

Oh, Barnes answered despondently, his face turning a crimson red. No, ma’am, nothing yet.

Then we’re still on schedule for a departure in less than, forty hours?

Yes, ma’am.

The XO?

On the quarterdeck, ma’am.

Commander Charles Asquith stood a fair bit taller than most men, his blue eyes warm and inviting, his brown mess of hair as distinguished as Royal Navy regs allowed; his most distinguishing feature, however, coursed through him in his blue blood. The son of a member of the House of Lords, Asquith was quite young for the rank of commander at twenty-six but many such as Torvey thought it to his credit that he did try harder than many to prove he was worthy of his rank. With the ship tied to the pier, the senior officer on duty was assigned to the quarterdeck and Torvey found Asquith there, chatting with a young male lieutenant pointing at the Z gun turret. Standing back a moment, the young officer nodded before saluting Asquith and hurrying along his way.

What was that about Charles?

Nothing, ma’am. I just told Percy that while docked I expect the plugs to have their seals all lined up in proper fashion. The middle plug is cock-eyed, that’s all.

Torvey smiled, the aristocrats could always be counted upon for keeping up with traditions no matter how inane and trivial they truly were. I wanted to speak to you about the supplies, how far along are we?

A few hours behind schedule, apparently there was an accident on the M12 and several of the supply trucks got caught up in traffic. Other than that, most of the crew has returned from shore leave and I expect we will be ready to switch to deployment rotations at the end of,[i] Asquith paused, his eyes closed as he computed numbers in his head. [i]Say the next shift, ma’am.

I bring it up because there’s been another incident in Colerica; someone decided that they didn’t like their accountant and took it out on a whole building.

Now that’s a bloody shame, Captain. Without accountants who’s left to cover up all the graft and corruption?

Torvey cracked a smile. At least Asquith tried. No word of accelerated deployment from Breningrad yet, and in fact there’s been no official acceptance of Collins’ offer of assistance – but we’re sailing in forty hours with or without those damned supplies.

Yes, ma’am.

Oh, any word on the transport ship?

She set sail from Imperium an hour ago and she’ll be arriving here in about twenty hours or so, being she has to travel the length of the New Thames. Asquith frowned, as a sailor he knew the New Thames River had become terribly congested in past years and trying to steer an assault ship down the river’s narrow shipping channel would be a damned nightmare for the pilot and the navigator. Poor bastards, he thought to himself.

HMS St. James
New Thames River

The flight deck was large, and allowed Paul Fletcher to pace for great lengths as he built up great plans in his head before tearing them down into shards of pieces. Having been installed as the new colonel in charge of the New Britain Dragoons after the abysmal failure of his predecessor, King Andrew had ordered his unit put to sea in case called upon by the Colericans to assist in hunting down the bombers or in securing Horacio. Another veteran of the Novikovian War, Fletcher had combat up close and personnel, and had been watching the news just days ago when the very unit he was now commanding had stormed the Citadel and driven from office Prime Minister Tetley, a man that Fletcher secretly regarded as a friend to the armed forces despite his desire to prosecute Azazians for war crimes against Novikovians.

That, however, was a matter for another affair and another concern – things he could not worry about as he readied his unit for possible urban combat in a foreign country. The advantage being the city would be largely allied with his men, the disadvantage being it was still a city. Lots of places for his armour units to get caught up and taken out. At the last minute he had requisitioned two bulldozers from a civilian company in Imperium, putting the bill to the Royal Army because they had not felt the need to equip his unit with dozers of its own. And so, those thoughts and more in mind, Fletcher paced as the large, sleek white troop ship lumbered down the New Thames, fireboats and civilian pleasure craft offering tributes and salutes to the sailors and Marines embarked aboard.

Zachara, 11:50:

Maurice Hicks sat quietly, three hundred meters from where Keenan Alexander was walking down the street. The man had done his duty, but he was only an ametuer. He would be caught long before he exited the city, he would be interrogated...then everything would fall apart. Shame wasting recruits like this, but Alexander had done his duty.
Hicks loaded a round into his sniper quietly, a pro in the business of terror. He had made preparations to get away-he was covered by snipers from here back to Preilou's CP, and he knew how to get away. Alexander would not be going anywhere for long...but his time was done. Keenan had served his purpose, and this would throw off the authorities.
Maurice scoped in on Alexander. The young man was nervous, sweat barely visible on his skin...obviously a new recruit. Hicks hated killing members of his own organization, but it would ensure that noone found any information from Keenan. Hicks switched off the safety of his rifle and propped his arm against a rock, his index finger quivering slightly. His time was now. In one quick reflex, Hicks jammed his finger into the trigger, a bullet was activated, and the rifle fired.
The recoil slammed the rifle into Hicks's shoulder, but he kept the scope squared on Alexander. The man dropped instantly; the bullet found its mark. Hicks smiled as Alexander's face reflected a look of shock; he never realized he was dead. The authorities would never know about Alexander. Hicks picked up the rifle and began sprinting off, knowing he could outpace the policing forces easily.

He may have been the only person in the entire United Empire of Colerica that knew who the assassin of Kircer Danton was. He called up a picture of him on an international database, complete with a dossier and list of charges he was wanted for. Pearson Preilou, what little he knew of him, had a reputation of a natural leader. Cunning and resourceful. Adaptable and skilled at evasion, he had eluded capture from authorities in the past. Just the man he was looking for. These....Blood Spiders...as they called themselves may not have been the group he would've preferred to identify with, but nonetheless, he here was about to make a phonecall to Preilou.

Mage Uraine dug into the inside pocket of his black leather jacket and retrieved a Zippo and a fat pack of Marlboro Reds. He held a cigarette to his lips and lit it with a stroke of the lighter's wheel. The dancing orange flame ignited the paper in seconds and Uraine released a cloud of smoke with his exhale. The taste of cancer had become something he enjoyed after picking up the nasty habit a few years ago. He looked himself over in the mirror and decided he a looked a bit too cliché; something out of a television show or cop movie. He wore all black, from his polished dress shoes to his mirror glasses. The only color he thought that fit him.

He sighed. They're not going to care about your attire, he mused. Just a phone call. If he declines, he'll have sealed his own fate.

He dialed the number on his cell--complete with tracing and call interception prevention--and awaited Preilou to pick up. It'd come as a sure surprise to the terror mastermind, but it would be a pleasant surprise if he knew how to play his cards right.

Preilou answered. A hesistant, "Hello?"

Uraine smiled. "Mr. Preilou, our time is unfortunately scarce so I will get to the point. Yes, I'm quite sure you would not expect anyone to be calling you, notably at a time such as this, but there's a first for everything, no? Good. My name is Mage Uraine and if you knew anything about this fair land you're tromping about in, you'd know that already. That's quite a trail of bodies you're leaving behind. I see by way of my TV that you've just brought down Faraway accounting. Tsk, tsk, I had a stock in that firm. At any rate...I shall cut to the chase. I want to meet with you and I will give you safe passage to meet with me should you accept. I can keep you safe from the Colericans or I can give them your position. Ahh, yes, you see I know exactly where you are. I also know that you're on the move. Smart man. What have you to say?"

OOC: Mage Uraine, in short, is the exiled leader of the nation Colerica invaded and took over, Isla de Plata. His father, Ayden, was the dictator of the island nation when the UEC declared war on them to take out his father's rogue regime. Ayden was killed during the war by his own generals and Mage took his spot at the head of the Ma'dah ruling regime. The Ma'dah was crushed and a Colerican puppet government has since taken control, though rather intense violence (supported and funded by Mage, in part) continues to haunt Isla de Plata to this day. He's a billionaire and, like Preilou, a terror mastermind. And I'm under the assumption Pearson has a cell phone. ;)

To: Daniel Collins
From: Kressi Thra

Mr. Collins, I apologize for the delay in response, but under the circumstances, I'm sure you an understand. I am Kressi Thra, Magistrate of State and, as I'm sure you know, the younger sister of the Emperor. We graciously accept your offer for assistance in this our hour of need. We thank you for your condolences. Now, we must work together to right these grave wrongs and punish those responsible.

Regards,

Kressi Thra
Magistrate of State

Preilou stood for a second with the phone in his hand. He knew this man may betray him...but he had gotten where he was by taking risks.

"I accept your offer. I'll meet with you, but I'll bring along three of my own men to our meeting."

"Good, good, I'm glad to hear that you're a man of reason, Mr. Preilou. Your ride shall be there...sooner than you think," he said and hung up.

As soon as he ended the call, an unmarked helicopter soared over the trees and slowly descended to the ground, whirling and swirling the leaves all around it as it touched down. The side door slid open with a hard pull and out stepped a man in all black. He was powerfully built and wore a commanding look on his pale face. His head shaved bald, he wore a black beret atop it and exited the helicopter with a Bizon-2 machine pistol in his hands. He and two men approached Preilou's encampment.

"You must be Preilou. My name is N; welcome aboard. We leave now. If you have any objections to that, you can voice them to the Imperial Royal Guard hunting party that is coming this way. Lucky for you, you have a ride. I can't say the same for your men, however. Only four of you are coming with us, Mr. Preilou. I see you've singled out three of them already. Good; kill the rest. If you don't, we will."

OOC: we're still back on the same day, remember...

IC:

This is Kathren Movan of the Colerica Imperial News network. In a press statement by local security-police forces at the site of Faraway Accounting, a suspect casuality count is feared to be over one thousand victims. This comes in the reeling wake of a vicious terrorist attack on the Imperial Capital. There are, as of yet, no suspects in the vile act, but a statement from the Imperial Palace pledges the full resources of the United Empire will hunt down and bring justice to these assassins. We'll return after a word from our sponsers...*cue ad for Niculescu Financial*

"Good, good, I'm glad to hear that you're a man of reason, Mr. Preilou. Your ride shall be there...sooner than you think," he said and hung up.

As soon as he ended the call, an unmarked helicopter soared over the trees and slowly descended to the ground, whirling and swirling the leaves all around it as it touched down. The side door slid open with a hard pull and out stepped a man in all black. He was powerfully built and wore a commanding look on his pale face. His head shaved bald, he wore a black beret atop it and exited the helicopter with a Bizon-2 machine pistol in his hands. He and two men approached Preilou's encampment.

"You must be Preilou. My name is N; welcome aboard. We leave now. If you have any objections to that, you can voice them to the Imperial Royal Guard hunting party that is coming this way. Lucky for you, you have a ride. I can't say the same for your men, however. Only four of you are coming with us, Mr. Preilou. I see you've singled out three of them already. Good; kill the rest. If you don't, we will."

"Fine by me."

Preilou was glad he had taken his three best. He and the other three levelled submachine guns at the camp of fourteen.

"Hey boss watcha-"

The man's voice was cut short by the hail of bullets that strafed through the camp. Men were cut down instantly, they didn't have time to cry out.

"Fine by me."

Preilou was glad he had taken his three best. He and the other three levelled submachine guns at the camp of fourteen.

"Hey boss watcha-"

The man's voice was cut short by the hail of bullets that strafed through the camp. Men were cut down instantly, they didn't have time to cry out.

"Good," N said as he surveyed the work. "Climb onboard, we haven't much time."

They boarded the helicopter and it took off to the skies above, flying off to the west. Its destination: Alatsar, the most populated city in the United Empire.

* * * *

Mage Uraine lit another cigarette and stared out the massive windows of his apartment on the fifteenth story of the Torpa Housing building complex. Outside of those windows was an entire cityscape ripe with people milling about and cars buzzing down the roads in controlled traffic. He glanced at the wall clock. 5:43 IST.

They'll be arriving shortly, he thought.

"Better make our guests comfortable," he said aloud, though there was no one there to hear him. His men were positioned throughout the building, but Mage preferred to be left alone.

He looked back out at the city and could imagine it alit with flames. Colerica would suffer for what they've done to the Uraine family; for the interruption in into the Ma'dah regime. Sure, the Ma'dah had sunk a Colerican ocean liner, killing nineteen hundred some civillians. That was hardly a cause for war, though. The Colerican invasion of Isla de Plata was a scam: an unjustified conflict designed by the imperialist hands of the United Empire's leaders. Emperor Thra himself had a hand in it--hell, he must've planned it. He'd get his judgement, too.

The entire United Empire would get theirs. A day of reckoning approached and Mage Uraine would ensure it would occur.

OOC: Here's a map of the United Empire:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v346/maderic/Colericastatesmap.jpg

N opened the door to Uraine's apartment. Inside, Mage lifted a silenced automatic pistol and leveled it at the door. Seeing that it was N, he lowered the handgun and put it back on the table. He stubbed out his cigarette and approached N and Pearson, his hand extended to shake his guests.

"Please, sit, my friend. We have much to discuss. Do you know why you're here? Venture a guess."

Bumped.

OOC: Sorry, haven't seen it, and I'm immersed in RPs

IC:
"I assume you brought me because you wish to strike against the Colercian government, and I can be your tool."

OOC: Sorry, haven't seen it, and I'm immersed in RPs

IC:
"I assume you brought me because you wish to strike against the Colercian government, and I can be your tool."

"Precisely," Mage said. "I have a proposition for you. Terrorize the Colerican government until they leave my nation. Demand that withdrawal from Isla de Plata is the only way your reign of chaos will end. I will coordinate your targets. However, if you're caught, you will disavow any knowledge of me or this meeting. If you betray me, I will hand you over to the Colerican government personally."

Colerica Bowl XXXIX -- Imperator Stadium, Zachara, Kurono, UEC.

The event had always drawn massive crowds. Imposisble numb ers, some said, that were forced to attend by the Colerican government. Clearly that was untrue. These people, in excess of ninety-six thousand, were here to watch their two favorite teams duel one another on the gridiron for the right to call themselves the champions of the Imperial Football League. The Raymond City Colts and the Marago Firehawks, two very different teams representing their respective conferences.

The Colts, under the leadership of upstart quarterback Kyle Conner, who was previously unknown to the league before this season, have become the icon of the underdog as they face off with what appears to be an invincible advisary.

The Firehawks had carried themselves to the Colerica Bowl on the legs of all-star halfback, Brett Lieger, and on the shoulder of Alex Tamian, handidly viewed as one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game. The

Colts held a respectable and surprising 15-5 record this season whereas the Firehawks have remained perfect, becoming only the third team in IFL history to achieve an undefeated season. The, postseason included, 22-0 Firehawks remain to be the biggest hurdle the Colts could've ever imagined leaping.

Everyone was here. Everything was set. But something was wrong. In the stadium, something had transpired that would have ramifications on more than just football. Five armed gunman had stormed the press box of the IFL CEO, Jeremy Tallen, and were presently holding his family hostage at gunpoint. No alarm had been given. No sign of danger. Yet...the authorities had been notified. Few things could occur in the United Empire without the government finding out about them. Now the question was simply: how to go about freeing him? Security-police forces had been assembled, but it was decided that it would be best if military personnel handled it. Advanced Recon Commandos were considered for it, but a team was left on stand-by. Imperial Royal Guards would suffice.

And from his home, Mage Uraine watched all of this play out on his television, Pearson Prielou at his side. Prielou wasn't the only one capable of launching a successful attack within the United Empire.

But nothing football related mattered. A single explosion tore through the pressbox of the CEO, Jeremy Tallen, before an IRG force could be deployed from elswhere in the stadium. The fireball erupted, throwing shards from the massive windows everywhere in a rain of broken glass. Fans screamed from the stands below, causing the intentional panic that the terrorists had knew would happen. The players on the field scrambled away as all eyes turned towards the burning box.

Mage Uraine, from his home, watched it with a smile. He was delighted at the sight of his plans being executed according to plan.

"Enough," Mage said. "I'm tired of fooling around with the Empire. They've come closer to finding us then ever before. If we don't act now, we have little chance of getting out of this with our lives. I fear for the survival of our operation, what, with the recent capture of a group of Blood Spiders and all. The United Empire is no longer going to lie on their back and let us punch them."

"I agree," another, dressed in military fatigues and a beret, said from within the room. "We don't have time for the little things anymore. Blowing up a man on the street corner is nice and all, but I know we have to act faster and on a much grander scale if we're to succeed in our objective."

"And what exactly is our objective?" asked a third; he wore an expensive ash gray suit and a red tie over a white undershirt. He was well groomed and looked every bit a wealthy man.

"What do you mean?" asked Mage.

"I mean," he paused, "look at all this. We've had months and all we've done is make minor attacks on various cities with these fucking Blood Spider operatives you've contracted. This isn't the way things are supposed to be going. We've given the United Empire enough time to turn itself around and come after us. God forbid what will happen if they find out our true plot and his plans..."

"Silence," Mage commanded. "I know that things have been against us. I'm well aware of this and we must act against it if we are to survive."

"And here's another thing," the man in the suit said. "Why exactly are we doing this?"

"We all have our own reasons for seeing the end of the United Empire," the uniformed man stated simply. "We all want to see it burn."

Mage smiled. "I know my reasons," he said. "They have taken my family and my country from me. For this, I will take theirs," he said and with venom in his voice, he added, "The United Empire will fall."

This is very open now. I kept the idendities of those two guys unknown for a reason: if anyone wants to jump in and claim one of them as their own, please feel free to. I know I haven't been keeping up on RP'ing for a while, but I'm making the best effort to come back into the swing of things.

Bump to attract some attention. Sorry.