NationStates Jolt Archive

John Philips sat with his head down on his cluttered mohogany desk. As his secretary began to walk in, she stopped, knocking on the open door before entering. Philips jumped, revealing his unshaven, disheveled face.

"Yeah?" He asked, still in a daze from his slumber.

"Mr. Speaker, we have another report for you," his secretary replied, walking forward and placing a small, manilla folder on the already covered desk.

"Thanks Ilene. I'll take a look at it. Uh, could you get me something to drink? I'll take a Dr. Pepper, please."

"Yes Mr. Speaker, just a minute," she replied as she walked out of the office, headed toward the refrigerator.

Philips opened the folder, wiping his eyes, and began to read. What's new? Some young nation buys a ton of military equipment from DMGMI, and now they're some world power? Apparently being intimidating doesn't take much anymore... he thought to himself as he read one of several reports on foreign military buildup. So many newly formed nations simply purchased billions of dollars of military equipment, hand it out, and suddenly considered themselves a force to be reckoned with. Nothing was earned anymore. No one remembered the Omzian War. No one remembered Royal Palms. No one remembered Samustan. These were just faint memories in the back of Philips' mind. So distant that he even wondered if they had ever really happened.

The secretary walked back in the office, and placed a cold can of Dr. Pepper on the desk before turning to walk out again.

"Thank Ilene," Philips said without looking up from his reading. He turned the page. So, Damien whooped the crap out of The Kraven Corporation, huh? Go figure. Piss Damien off, and he'll come after you. Piss his allies off, and he'll say he'll help, but only leave you to fend for yourself. Thanks for that one, man... he thought to himself again, remembering when Damien pulled all his forces from the Omzian Invasion at the last moment. Sniper Country had only had two true allies in the past, being Western Asia and Automagfreek. And now Western Asia was gone, being pulled into isolation long ago. All that was left was Automagfreek, who Sniper Country had barely had relations with since the return from isolation and the Rebellion. But that was about to change.

"Ilene!" John screamed as he placed the folder down. The secretary rushed in the door frantically, thinking she had done something wrong. "Ilene, I need you to get contacts for me. I need Master-General Ben Harper, ex-commander of the Naval Forces and Gold-Cross recipient for his actions in Hagras Bay; First Sergeant Toby Mckeehan, Gold-Cross recipient for his actions on Honjaksgrad Beachhead; Master Sergeants Michael Tait and Kevin Smith, Gold-Cross recipients for their actions in the rescue attempt to recover Ty Holder from an Omzian Maximum Security Prison. Actually, you'll probably have more luck with Smith under the name Kevin Max. I need you to find them, and tell them that under order from the Speaker of the Senate, they are required to meet me in my office within forty-eight hours. Any expenses will be repaid. Okay?"

"Um, Mr. Speaker, those men are the only men in history to receive the Gold-Cross. May I ask what you're doing, sir?"

At this, Philips stared off into the distance, saying nothing. After several moments of silence, Philips opened his mouth, speaking in a soft whisper, "Summon the heroes..."

The secretary walked awkwardly out of the room, intent on doing her job. Philips slowly turned around, and logged onto his computer.

-----

TO: Damien Dreadfire, Supreme Warlord, Automagfreek
FROM: John Philips, Senate Speaker, Sniper Country
SUBJECT: Conference/Meeting

Damien:

Old friend, as I look around, I see what the world hath wrought around us. I believe we must meet in person to further discuss what this may mean. Upon your approval, I intend on leaving here to make your presence in Automagfreek. Please, old friend, accept my hand in this offer.

-John Philips

OOC: Tag for regional interest.

OOC: Actually Sniper Country, it's "DMI", not "DMGMI". :p The DMG part wasn't neccessary. Anyways, is this opened or closed? I want in so that I can start apprenticeship.

Dreadfire was most intrigued as his servant delivered a folder of daily messages to his desk. Flicking through them casually, he stopped at a certain notice that had come from Sniper Country, one of Automagfreek's oldest and most trusted allies. Hmm....most interesting....

Though Sniper Country had joined the feared ranks of Gholgoth, up until this point the two nations had little contact with each other through diplomatic channels. Bitter memories of the Omz war were still alive and well, a moment that Dreadfire would never forgive himself for. But regardless of the past, Damien eagerly took up his pen and began scratching away, intent on forging a new future.

~From the desk of Lord Damien the Destroyer, Supreme Warlord of the Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek~

Greetings my old friend, it has indeed been way too long.

I am most eager and intrigued to meet with you, for there must be much to discuss. I am interested in what it is that concerns you, and my door is always open to you and your house. AMF has been enjoying some well deserved quiet time in the wake of the Kraven War, and hopefully things will stay that way.

Though knowing the Gods, this is merely the calm before the storm....

We shall see. I await your arrival in ULE City.


http://img418.imageshack.us/img418/3269/dreadfireclose7ue.jpg
---Damien the Destroyer---
-Supreme Warlord of AMF-

It was like an air of excellence.

Master-General Ben Harper, commander of Sniper Country Naval Forces during the Omzian War. Under intense attack from Omzian aerial assets, and seeing hundreds of his Marines scrambling and being slaughtered, Harper himself operated a Stinger Mk. II, bringing down three Omzian aircraft, buying his men time to maneuver ships around to form a defensive perimeter around Harper's command-carrier, the SCN Vengeance. An ensuing aerial evacuation of several ships within the perimeter saw the successful withdrawal of over a thousand Marines; however, Harper stayed behind, manning one of several guns onboard the Vengeance to fend off several attacks by small ships, presumeably from either Omz222 or Clan Smoke Jaguar Naval Forces. After the Vengeance took several hits to the hull from Omzian aerial attacks, Harper oversaw nearly one hundred Marines to Zodiac inflatable boats. Seeing that not all of the Marines could fit onto Harper's Zodiac, he promptly jumped from his boat, into the frigid waters, and pulled three Marines to the boat and aided them in, as he swam alongside. Soon after the troops were picked up by a fleeing HACV-40, and Harper was treated for an extreme case of hyopthermia. For his actions, Philips awarded Master-General Ben Harper the first Gold-Cross in SCAF history. (NOTE: Harper would later deny himself the honor, citing his actions were not enough to receive the honor, but the record books still note him as the first recipient of the Gold-Cross.)

First Sergeant Toby McKeehan, 5th Marine Division. Leadings his platoon into the thick of the initial contact with Omzian, Smoke Jaguar, and other troops from the opposing nations, McKeehan found his platoon pinned down by enemy fire coming from a nearby gas station, near the top of the beach. Giving a series of commands that still bewilder even top military commanders, McKeehan maneuvered his troops around a large thicket of shrubbery, and staged a daring assault on the enemy position. After four of his men were injured due to fire from a machine-gun nest across the street, McKeehan charged the nest, miraculously receiving no injuries himself, and killed four enemy soldiers manning the gun. Turning the enemy's power against them, McKeehan then manned the gun, firing wildly into a neighboring skyscraper, covering another platoon as they entered and began clearing operations. After the gun ran out of ammunition, McKeehan dropped a golfball sized mini-grenade into the position, leaving the gun inoperable. After reuniting with his own platoon, McKeehan sent three units forward in order to set up a battalion FOB. Leaving one unit still at his command, McKeehan hunkered down in the nearby gas station, and set up a temporary defensive perimeter and gathering point for wounded troops. After being offered relief, McKeehan denied and took his unit forward, engaging encroaching Omzian forces. McKeehan's For his actions, McKeehan was the second person to receive the coveted Gold-Cross.

Master Sergeants Michael Tait and Kevin Max, (Officially) 22nd SOF-D Regiment / (Unofficially) Packrat Platoon "Sierra Hotel". Given the task of retrieving IMF Operator Ty Holder from an Omzian High Security Prison, four operators from Packrat "Sierra Hotel" Platoon made a night assault, taking on an estimated two hundred Omzian troops in an effort to save the lone operator. Successfully eliminating perimeter guards, the four infiltrated the perimeter. Once reaching the building, however, their presence was detected, which ensued a large-scale firefight as the men fought their way toward Holder's cell. On the way, two of them, one being Tait, were wounded. Tait was able to continue on his own; the other was dragged by Max along the ground, as the injured soldier provided rear security for the group on the run. Reaching Holder's cell, they blasted the door, handing Holder a rifle, and making for their escape. However, the team reached a dead-end corridor while making for outside, and was forced to defend their position for nearly two hours. Two of the operators were killed within the first thirty minutes of the engagement, while Tait, Max, and Holder were all wounded. Tait took three bullets to the leg; Max took shrapnel to the face and a round to the shoulder, his prior wound to the foot still hurting; Holder took shrapnel to the stomach and a round to the neck, which missed his jugular vein by only millimeters. Being in Sierra Hotel, the operators were unable to call for support, and were forced to fend off the enemy themsevles. The operators withstood thousands of incoming rounds, several gassing attempts, and over an estimated two hundred enemy soldiers in their two-hour engagement. Finally, seeing there to be no other way out, Max grabbed a satchel charge from his back pack, and tossed it to the side of the corridor, as the three pressed themselves to the other side, bracing for the ensuing shrapnel. Tait again received a chunk of debris to the head, causing him a minor concussion. To the extreme luck of the party, the blasted hole led outside, where they began a pressing, dire run for survival from the prison. Somewhere during the exhausting eight-mile run from the prison to a designated pickup point, Max picked Tait up, carrying him to the extraction point on his back. Experts who have analyzed the situation, have surmized the distance was about three miles, and given Max's already hefty load, say that Max (who was carrying his own equipment, Tait, and Tait's equipment) was carrying anywhere from 350-400 pounds on his back for this distance. This show of bravery has never been matched in SCAF history, and is the epitome of what the SCAF represents. For their bravery and heroism, Master Sergeants Michael Tait and Kevin Max received the Gold-Cross, being the last soldiers to receive the honor.

-----

And here they were. John Philips stood, looking each of them in the eyes. From the aging Harper; to the still young, cocky, ready-for-anything McKeehan; to the scarred, wise, and influential Tait and Max; their presence seemed to bring about an air of excellence that was unattainable to the normal man. It almost took every muscle Philips had to speak.

"Gentlemen, I've called you here, because I need you," he began. "Not in any sort of military manner of course - you're retired - but more of a political one. As I'm sure you can each remember, as I prepared for the invasion of Omz222, we had our allies Omni Conglomerates, Barbarosea, Ferrussia, and," Philips paused, "Automagfreek. I've prepared a meeting with Damien Dreadfire himself, in ULE City, in order to discuss certain subjects. One of which is our seemingly severed relations after his pulling-out of the game just as we began the invasion. For these talks, I've asked that you four come along."

The four men looked at each other. Finally, after several seconds of silence, Tait spoke up. "Sir... You call, we haul. That's all there is to it. You ask us to go to war again, we're game. I can't really speak for the rest of these guys, but personally, I'd like to be there to tell Damien exactly what I think of his actions back then."

"Well, I'm not sure how you'd do that and get out of there with your life, but, you're certainly entitled," Philips said, fading into a mumble. "One thing - for this trip, you're entitled to all the rights and privileges of any SCAF member. I trust you all brought your equipment and such as requested?" He asked, seeing the men nod. "I'm not taking any security. You're it."

-----

"Magnum One, Remington Tower, caution wake turbulence, departed Boeing Triple Seven, wind calm, runway one eight cleared for takeoff," the controller said, as the Speaker's plane began to roll down the runway. It was an in-region trip, and would only take a few hours, but it would be a tense few hours. The men still looked as if they were proud fighting soldiers of the SCAF. McKeehan, Tait, and Max still had their overly-customized weapons sitting in their laps. Each had his shaggy hair, beard, and tan of a century. They loooked just like any other soldier in the SCAF, and it was highly unlikely any of the Freeks would be able to tell any difference. Harper was dressed a tad nicer, although khaki pants, a polo shirt, and cowboy hat may not considered the nicest in attire in Automagfreek. He was well-groomed, had short, decent hair, and was clean shaven. Still, Philips was dressed in his regular traveling attire - khaki pants, a sweater, and knit cap.

-----

"ULE City Tower, Magnum One, we're with you at three thousand, carrying important cargo from Sniper Country. Request landing instructions to get her off, please," the Speaker's pilot said, as the plane approached ULE City. Here we go... each of the men thought.

Clearance was promptly given, and said important cargo was given a military escort toward the Great Hall. The convoy of waiting vehicles fired up their engines as Philips and his men entered an armored limo which Dreadfire had provided him out of his own personal fleet of cars and trucks. An old man in a new black suit greeted the men as he pt the car into gear and began driving down the winding road that would take them to Damien's palace.

So, they tell me you hail from Sniper Country? Most interesting indeed.... The old man had a smile upon his face, which Philips and company could see in the rear view mirror. I remember a time when Sniper Country stood as titans upon this Earth...a time when Automagfreek was just making its rise to power. I myself served in both World War 4 and World War 5 under President Thomas Kaye... He began trailing off as he usually did, but quickly shook his head and returned to the topic at hand.

But this....this is where it all began. He motioned over to the ULE Mountains that dominated the horizon on every side. On the slopes of the western mountains Lord Rising Run and Lord Automagfreek made their death defying charge down the snow sovered peaks and into the ranks of the enemy tribes that had taken the ULE Valley several weeks before. It was chaos...both horse and man spewing forth like a broken dam down from the rocky heights and decending like a swarm of locusts onto the heathen Freeks. During the charge however, Lord Rising Sun was struck down and killed where he fought, and in a fury Lord Automagfreek finished what the pair had started. When the last enemy tribesman was slaughtered, the country that we know today was unified and formally placed under one banner.

The driver paused for a second, concentrating on the tight turn that the vehicles were making around a rocky bend. Ah, now where was I....oh yes. Once the country had been united and the fighting quenched, Lord Automagfreek then made himself Dictator....and the rest is history. But this is where it all happened...this is where Ambassador Kaye rose in the diplomatic ranks to President. This is where Damien Dreadfire and his Sentinels marched on the steps of the AMF Senate and declared himself Warlord for life. This is a place of history, magic, and legand my friend....

The vehicles then came to a stop, for the had arrived at the Great Hall. Amazing how a story can make the time fly, eh? He coughed out a laugh, then exited the vehicle to open the door for Philips and his men. Enjoy your stay in Automagfreek.

The banners of House Dreadfire flew high in the cool breeze as the door guards welcomed their guests and invited them to sit in Damien's den and sample his fine liquers. The Warlord will be down shortly. Make yourself at home.

But no more than a few minutes had passed before the rumble of footsteps could be heard coming down one of the many flights of stairs. A booming voice then broke the calm, and Damien soon rounded the corner and came into view.

Ah, my old friend! Good to see you again, especially here in Automagfreek.

The five men stood outside as Dreadfire came from around the corner. Upon hearing his greeting, Philips made his way to Dreadfire, smiling, holding his arm out for a handshake. The other four stood behind, watching on.

Each of them had their opinions on what they were doing here. Harper was in just a diplomatic mood as Philips. He didn't want any controversy, just things settled so he could get home. He had a good life now, and almost resented Philips dragging him back here. Of the four behind Philips, Harper was the only one without a weapon. To anyone else, he would have looked quite content, as he looked around the area. None of the men had ever been to Automagfreek before.

McKeehan, loaded up with his old SOF-D gear, including his highly modified M4B1, glanced around the area. There were a few armed guards, but nothing too hard to handle if the stuffing hit the fan. There really weren't as many people around as he'd expected, but then again, how would it come across if an ally loaded up tons of troops to greet them? His weapon dangled in front of him, as he held his hands in his pockets, fiddling with some spare pocket change.

Max and Tait leaned back against the limo they had riden in on. Tait, the only black man in the envoy, chewed a piece of bubble gum, while Max emptied what was left of a bag of M&M's into his mouth. Max and Tait were like brothers - so alike they could almost think identically. And right now, they were. Both men stared straight into the face of Damien Dreadfire, their anger almost boiling over. Max held his hand on the handle of his custom M4B2 and had his other hand tossed over the handguard. Tait, on the other hand, had his weapon slung over his back. He blew a bubble with his gum, popped it, and promptly took it out of his mouth, tossing it into a nearby bush. He then proceeded to cross his arms, and stare into the eyes of Dreadfire.

Philips shook Dreadfire's hand. "Good to see you, old friend. So, shall we?" He asked, motioning toward the stairwell.

It is good to see you again old friend, please, join me in my den. He motioned for Phillips to follow him through the twisting corridors until they arrived at a room that appeared very rustic and distinct from the others across the Great Hall. The heads of large game filled nearly ever square inch ot the eastern and northern walls, as well as the skulls of the most valiant enemies Dreadfire had vanquished over the years. The other walls were lined with ancient weapons and battle armor, some dating back to the pre-Automagfreek era.

The two eyed the collection for a second, then Damien turned towards Phillips. Impressive, isn't it? Some say that the artifacts in this room contain more value than all the currency in Automagreek...but the history that surrounds you is many times more valuable. Priceless, if you will. He then gestured to a pair of highback leather chairs and a table where two glasses of Freekish whiskey sat. But we'll save that for some other time.

Damien sat and took a long pull from his glass, nearly emptying the fiery contents into his mouth. It is good to see you here again Phillips. I remember all too well the day fire fell from the sky and consumed Sniper Country. I remember the anger and retribution. I remember the aftermath.

I would ask how your lands are doing, but I already know. Sniper Country was repopulated almost entirely by Freeks, asked to leave their fatherland and rebuild a shattered nuclear wasteland. And what success they had! Sniper Country once more stands amongst the giants of the world, and I'm glad we are having this opportunity to discuss matters.

Now, I know of something that still pains you: the Omzian war. I can assure you that it was no easy decision on my part, but the safety of the Excessively Armed Empire was at stake, and I could not afford to stretch my forces too thin. While most certainly our presence on the battlefield would have turned the tides, it also would have left my Empire exposed to our enemies; something I would not risk. So allow me to apologize for withdrawing my pledge to do combat, and for the humiliation and disgrace it has brought upon your people....

Dreadfire slammed the contents of his glass down and rose from his chair, turning away from Phillips and clasping his hands around his back.

But you have brought shame and disgrace to me as well. During your time here, we tracked a supposedly stray cargo plane that had entered Freekish airspace and had come dangerously close to our shore. Our satellites scanned the area and noticed the presence of several individuals.....

...individuals that soon opened fire on my Sentinels when they arrived to investigate. I do not know of too many soldiers in the world who can maintain their composure and fire so precisely when pitted against AMF's best. My fears became reality when we tracked the plane to it's landing site via satellite.... To your territory.

As Dreadfire uttered the words, two dozen Sentinels burst into the room with their weapons drawn and pointed directly at Phillips. The security console inside the den showed that outside another several dozen Sentinels pounced upon his escort. They did not fire as they emerged from the nearby bushes and trees, but instead barked orders viciously for them to drop their weapons and lay face down on the ground. Tribal paramilitary units with an armored escort were also moving down the long driveway and towards the gate where the car was parked.

Damien's demeanor did not change for a second, and he continued speaking in the same tone of voice as if nothing had happened. Now John, you and I both know of our history together. And it is because of that history that your life and the lives of your men will be spared here today. However, do not take this as a sign of weakness, for NO hostile force has EVER set foot on Freekish soil. Therefore, you will order your special forces on my shores to stand down and submit to Sentinel custody, and they will be brought here.

I have obliterated entire nations and alliances for lesser offenses, and you know this. You know that I am the bringer of death on this planet...the scourge of mankind...the destroyer of worlds. You also know that I do not forgive nor do I forget....but you are a friend. And as a friend you will be granted a pardon for your act of treachery upon me.

Now, you will call off your men so we can finish our meeting without interruption. Because I would hate to pike the mangled corpses of Sniper Country's best upon my beaches and smell them rot in the summer heat.

Dreadfire returned to his seat, again as if nothing had happened this whole time. The Sentinels in the room and those outside continued pointing their SBP-90 assault rifles at the Sniper Country diplomats, their fingers tight on the trigger in preparation to fire if necessary.

As Damien uttered the words of the identification of the Sniper Country troops on the ground, John's inside turned with anxiety. Years of politics had taught him never to show his emotions, and therefore were sustained on the inside as Damien began to speak. As he finished, John took a moment to compose himself before speaking. The armed men around him didn't bother him much; he feared much more for the men outside. Without a crack or single hint of intimidation in his speech, he began.

"You know, Damien, it takes a brave man to put a gun to my face. It takes a pussy to get men to do it for him," he mouthed, tilting his head slightly to the side as he spoke. He reached over and grabbed the small glass of whiskey, and downed the drink in a shot. "Good stuff, that," he noted, setting the glass back down on the table.

"First of all, old friend, nearly all Citizens who can remember the Omzian War have grievances against you and yours. And frankly, I don't blame them. Me? Personally I believe that after the act of pulling out all your troops was an act of breaking your word. Now, where I come from - bear with me here - when you give somebody your word, you keep it, no matter the cost. Because when it comes right down to it, that's all you really have - your word. And if you give that to somebody, and turn around and break it, then what do you have? Nothing. But I don't hold it against you, Damien. Really, I don't. I understand that you had a land to defend, an enemy to crush, and maybe a fire or two to burn.

"You know, there was once a wise man, and he had a little saying he liked to say sometimes, and I think it went a little something like this, 'The pride goeth before the fall,'" Philips said as he paused for a moment, letting the sentence sink in. "Remember that, Damien. Because your time is coming. There will come a time, a day, an hour, when you will fall. And I, by the grace of God, will be there to see it.

"Now, as for what's going on..."

-----

"You know, it's kinda ironic, when you think about it. Quite the situation," MSG Max said in a low tone to MSG Tait.

"What's that?" Tait replied.

"That we're here, in the, well, garage, of one of the most feared men in the world. A man that we utterly hate. And look at us. I just got done eating M&Ms and you're chewing gum," Max said, smirking.

Suddenly, several men, clad in blatantly military clothing burst out of several doors and bushes nearby. McKeehan immediately dropped to a knee, pulling his weapon up, not bothering to look down the red-dot sight. They were so close he could hit them with his eyes closed. He took his left hand off the handguard and tossed his Colt 1911 to Harper, who immediately cocked it back and took aim. Neither man had said a word to each other; it was only instinct.

Max tossed his M&Ms wrapper to the ground and dropped to his knee as he pulled his weapon up, taking a bead on the troops to the left, who mostly came from behind bushes and trees. Tait, on the other hand, whose rifle was slung to his back, reached down and pulled his pistol, a modified SOCOM, and his MP5K from their respective holsters on his leg as he dropped to a knee and took his bead on the troops to the right. They were back to back and were immediately calculating the number of troops, their positions, trajectories, surroundings, escape routes, and various other items.

"Put your weapons on the ground and step away," came the screams and yells of the now hostile troops. "Get on the ground; we will shoot!"

"You come take my weapon away, m-th-rf-ck-rs!" yelled Max, who was in position to immediately kill three of them before he took a round himself. He tilted his head toward Tait, whilst maintaining his focus on the hostiles. "Yo, Mike, you got any C4?" he whispered into Tait's ear. "Two sticks in my hip pouch," Tait whispered back.

"Yeah, you can suck my left nut before I'll give up this weapon, c-cks-ck-rs!" Max screamed again. "Think you could slap a stick on the limo without them seeing?" he whispered again. "Uh, yeah maybe, that side's to the vehicle, so they may not see it," Tait whispered back. "Well, your call, if you can, do it." Max then proceeded to yell at Tait, as not to draw attention to their whispering. "How many you got on that side?!"

"I'm counting fourteen! You?!" Tait yelled back. "I got ten over here!" Max replied. Both men had their weapons on safe, as the triggers on their weapons had a reduced pressure mechanism, and they didn't necessarily want to fire - yet. Max knew he had several flashbang and CS Gas grenades strapped to his vest, but getting to them was the only problem. "Yeah, I'll shoot you too, d-ckh--d!" Max yelled once again to his enemy.

"Guys, armored column coming up the street," McKeehan yelled, glancing over to the others.

"Just like the old days," Tait whispered to himself.

-----

"Those... individuals, as you say, that parachuted to your shores, are the best men my country has to offer. Thirty-six of the greatest troops to ever enlist in the SCAF," Philips said, looking away at the screen which showed the comotion going on outside. He smiled. "So, they're kicking your guy's butts, huh?" He could see the anger and subtle humiliation in Dreadfire's eyes. He wondered if anyone had ever spoken like this to him, especially in front of his own men, and lived to tell about it. "Don't answer that," I know the answer, he thought to himself. "Those men, I have no contact with. There is no way to contact them. You know those missions, Damien. The kind where, you dedicate your life, and have your will be a dead man. Where you are willing to die, and in a much greater magnitude, kill, in order to complete your mission. Those men, those men volunteered for their mission. They knew the risks before they ever signed on. And that, Damien, is what makes them great. So go ahead. Go ahead and fight them to the death. And when the last man takes his final breath, place him on a stick and hang him out for the world to see. And let the world know that those men were the ones who were not afraid to take on the Freeks on their own soil. Churn the hearts of those who see, so that they may realize that true glory is not in intimidation, but in the courage to face intimidation head on. Therein lies the true hero. Because when it comes down to it, those men know a glory and pride that you will never know.

"So do what you will," Philips said, looking back into the eyes of Damien Dreadfire. "You know," he smirked, "the whole red thing you do with your eyes when you're angry, it really brings out your complexion."

-----

"Maybe we should just let go, man," Tait whispered to Max. "We're hopelessly outnumbered, and if we open fire, what's going to happen to the Speaker in there?"

Max gave the hostile troops the finger. "I ain't letting go of nothing. The Speaker brought us here in all his might and wisdom, so I'm sure he'll do just fine. But this, this ain't cuttin' it. You and McKeehan believe in all that 'God' stuff, so I'm sure you have some higher calling or whatever, but not me, man, I'm here to fight - here and now."

Tait buckled up. It looked like this was it. All four men had their weapons beaded on the enemy troops. All they waited on was a move. Just one move, by anybody, and it was on.

Damien snorted, visibly amused by Phillip's bold statements. Such arrogance for one who owes his very existance to me. He then turned his back and drew the Relic's Sword, whirling around again with great speed and stopping the ancient blade mere milimeters from the Speaker's jugular. The very energies throughout the room seemed to drain as the first outburst of anger came from Damien, his voice sounding as if it was in several different octaves, all speaking in unison. I would strike you down before you would even feel the sting of this blade, friend. I've ended more lives with these two hands than your entire military has throughout Sniper Country's history. So don't you dare think for a second that killing you would mean anything to me.

He then recoiled the sword and returned it to its scabbard, and the telekinetic tension throughout the room instantly faded. Dreadfire drew a deep breath and cleared this throat. Now, getting back to our discussion.

Truth be told, I don't give a damn what grievances you and your people have. Why, Mr. Phillips, didn't Sniper Country win that war with ease? It seems very apparant that you are bitter because Automagfreek was not there to be your crutch. The Omzian war proved that your nation's military cannot compete on a full scale level, because you could have easily trounced their defenses. You, like so many others, rely on me and my Empire to do the dirty work. You, like so many others, know that against AMF there can be no victory. And because I had other priorities, you were robbed of your glory...glory that would have been granted to you through the spilling of Freekish blood.

He turned towards the window and glanced outside into his private gardens, where the trees stood still in the summer sun. That war was yours for the fighting John, and you dropped the ball. So don't blame me for your failures and the failures of your military. I told you that the Sentinels would assist, but the plans changed. Plans change all the time, but you don't see me crying like a bitch when allies desert me. I simply cut my losses and do the job myself. So, in all honesty here, what is your excuse for the outcome of that war?

Damien then stopped himself, realizing that he was straying off topic. He moved closer to Phillips and motioned him towards the video console in the room. After punching a few buttons, satellite imagery of the battlefield many miles away was displayed. Since you cannot call off your men John, they will all be slaughtered. And no, they are not "kicking my ass", I am merely providing some entertainment for my Stalkers. I've had 6 Panzerhaubitze 2000's pointed at them all night, and at any moment I could easily be rid of them. Interesting thing, those guns. Did you know that in burst mode it can fire 3 shells in 10 seconds? It also has a neat little feature: it can fire 5 shells at different trajectories, and they will all hit their target simultaniously.

Dreadfire's finger hovered over a red button, his face still as emotionless as it had been throughout the entire discussion. My Stalkers have been ambushing your men since they landed, and I am more than satisfied with their performance. But now that you have shown me nothing but disrespect and contempt in my own house, I think I will enjoy watching your men stink and bloat on my shores.

Damien then pressed the red button, and immediately the blips on the screen that represented the Stalkers began to rapidly withdraw. Moments later at the St. Freeksburg military base, and six 2000's pointed their barrels towards the heavens and unleashed an opening salvo. Seconds later they aimed lower and fired again, repeating this process 5 times before the base fell silent. Within no time the 30 artillery shells began to land across the enemy positions at both landing zones, and as the first explosion became visibile, Damien turned the monitor off.

Now Mr. Phillips, we come back to you. Should I unleash my judgements upon you for your arrogance, or should I let you go? He began pacing back and forth, visibly in deep thought on the subject. He then moved towards the Speaker, leaning in towards his ear and speaking in an ominous tone.

But either way, nothing in this world or the next can save you from my wrath, should you choose to bring it down upon you. If this is the fate you wish to see unleashed upon you and Sniper Country....then I will gladly send you to whatever God you wish.

What will it be John? I have shown you more patience and understanding than most men have seen from me. Do not make the mistake of acting tough in front of me, son. Because to me, all men, yourself included, are equally worthless. Taking your life would mean as much to me as taking the life of some Kraven scumbag.

Again, what will it be?

Amidst the conversation, the situation outside was tense.

"Yeah go ahead, shoot me!" yelled Max once more in an intense volley of insults toward the opposition. Meanwhile, McKeehan was busy, ever so slightly, pulling a CS Gas grenade from his vest, which happened to be only inches away from the pistol grip on his weapon. This allowed him to pull the grenade out without moving his hand off the grip, causing suspicion. The grenade in hand, he slowly pulled the pin with his thumb, leaving the ring on his thumb as he held the actual device tightly between his hand and the grip. He looked around. Harper was stoic, obviously not wanting to be in the situation but knowing he would do his part if the stuffing hit the fan. Max and Tait were, notably, ready to defend each other to the death, just as they had many times before. The two men were probably the best two soldiers ever to enlist in the SCAF, and therefore possibly two of the best soldiers ever to exist, as far as many were concerned. But this time was different. They were in the open, only one side was covered by a limousine, and they were all helplessly outnumbered on all flanks. This wasn't a video game; there would be no heroics, and they all knew it.

McKeehan let go of the release, and slid the grenade toward Max and Tait. To anyone else, it would have looked as if McKeehan was attempting to blow the crap out of Max and Tait. Immediately, the two looked toward the ground at what was rolling toward them. They knew what it was: CS Gas. Neither of them was too fond of it, but they'd grown a tolerance to it from being exposed to it for so many years. They both looked back up, toward their enemy, who seemed ready for the two to explode. As the white cloud of gas began to flow freely from the canister, Max pulled the trigger on his M203, which exploded in the immediate vicinity of the enemy troops. As he pulled the trigger, Max's mind went into a sort of "battle-awareness" state, something he had been trained to do while he was involved with "Sierra Hotel". Time seemed to slow around him as he saw the enemy raise their weapons and begin firing on the men. Similarly, Tait had entered the same state, as he pulled the trigger on his MK shotgun, mounted under his weapon. The blast of pellets fired toward the nearest of Freek troops on his side. The two began firing precision shots into the Freek troops as they picked up and began running toward the door Damien and John had entered several minutes earlier.

McKeehan began firing automatic fire to cover the two running in his direction. He was firing primarily toward the troops who has been on the side of Max, though when he noticed enemy through his peripheral vision on the side of Tait, he would fire a quick, sudden burst in that direction. He turned to his right, in time to see Harper call for another magazine for his pistol. Just then, Harper lurched forward, as a spew of blood flew from the back of his head. Harper's body fell lifelessly to the ground, as the pistol flew from his hand, landing on the ground in front of McKeehan. Unable to flinch, McKeehan took back to firing, dropping his empty magazine and immediately replacing it with a fresh one. As he fired, he felt two sharp pains: one through his left shoulder and one through his lower left stomach. Dropping his left arm, he continued to fire single-handed, as he, with his left hand, pulled the pin on a High Explosive grenade, tossing it as best he could toward the Freeks.

Max and Tait continued their dash toward the door, firing with viscious precision toward the enemy. The gas was beginning to wear off, though its effects lingered in the air. Just feet from the doorway, Tait took two rounds to the right leg, sending him stumbling to the ground. Turning over on his back, he immediately pulled the pins on two HE grenades, tossing one into the Freek troops and the other under the limousine. The limousine blew into an enormous fireball as the grenade went off. Max turned around, and, helping Tait to his feet, called for McKeehan to fall back and enter the door with them.

McKeehan got up, still firing away, and proceeded to walk backwards from his position, toward the door, where Max and Tait were busy laying down fire for him. As McKeehan walked, Max and Tait saw blood shoot out from his back in two other locations. McKeehan turned, blood pouring from his mouth, as he fell to the ground, lifeless.

With two of the four already dead, Max turned around, firing two rounds into the door lock, as it budged open. Max pulled Tait to the door, literally throwing him inside, as he threw another CS Gas grenade into the drive. He proceeded to slam the door.

"You alright?" Max asked Tait in the brief respite.

"Yeah, I can walk. Let's find the Speaker and get him secured," Tait replied.

-----

Philips stood up. He could hear the soldiers to his rear pull their weapons up to follow him.

"Your wrath?!" John exclaimed. "What? Pressing a button and doing away with a problem? My nation will wait on you at the beaches of Pascagoula - ready to strike you and your Freeks down as they step on the beach. But will they ever get that chance? No, because you'd prefer to press a little button and be done with it. As we speak, my troops have already formed up and are ready to take you head-on. So back up, son. Because before this is over, you will die. I promise you that."

-----

The two got to their feet, reloaded their weapons, and proceeded down the corridor. Tait stumbled once again, as the door to the room in which Damien and Philips, as well as the entourage of Freek troops resided. Max took immediate notice, and took to his knee, aiming his weapon dead at the head of the Freekish soldier nearest to Philips. Tait recovered directly into the prone position, aiming his weapon toward the Freek troops within the room.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?" stuttered Tait, as he saw Damien and John face to face, the Freek troops in the back with their weapons directed both at the Speaker as well as Tait and Max.

Tait reached into his vest, which was pressed to the floor. Being in the prone position gave him prime cover and concealment for him and his subtle movements. He found a flashbang grenade in his vest. As he pulled it out, he simultaneously pulled the pin. Tait tossed the grenade into the room, past Damien and Philips, and on toward the troops.

As quick as the grenade was thrown, Max knew it was his moment. He tilted his weapon just a few inches, taking his bead upon Damien's chest, and fired two rounds...

OOC: SC, you and I both know you are taking severe liberties here. So allow me to return the favor.

********

Dreadfire chuckled as he saw the two men burst into the room, his amusement growing following the conclusion of his conversation with Phillips. As the enemy soldier took aim upon the Destroyer's chest, he dipped and swung his body around to the left, placing the Speaker in a kamura and hiding the mass of his figure behind his back. It was just the opportunity he needed, because he knew that they would not kill their own leader just to lightly wound Dreadfire.

Suddenly from behind the two Sniper Country warriors, a shadow appeared and quickly materialized into that of The One. In less than the blink of an eye, the trench coat of The One flew open, and with the shining blade of the Death Dealers in his hand he then proceeded to strike down those who would cause Dreadfire harm. Time slowed as the blade slashed to and fro in real time for The One, and as the sword was returned to its scabbard space time was restored.

The One tipped his hat as the mutilated mass of flesh hit the ground with a squish, the blood and entrails slithering across the floor and coating the black boots of the Death Dealer. M'Lord, I maintain my ever watchful eye over you. I will remain vigilant. Dreadfire had a visible bead of sweat on his forehead, which he wiped with his shoulder as he nodded his head towards his servant. And not a moment too soon, old friend. You had me worried. The One snickered from behind his wide brim hat, assuring the Warlord that as long as he remained in the Realm of the Living, no harm would come to him on AMF soil. Damien knew however that once he left the confides of Automagfreek, that The One would be powerless to protect him, but the might of the Freekish military would more than suffice.

So then, John Phillips, you have chosen your fate. Before you die, you will see your lands burn, and your people butchered. Sniper Country will bleed tonight, my once loyal friend. To think, President Thomas Kaye looked up to you as a mentor, and modeled his Freekish military off of yours. But now, only hate exists between us. Damien then released the kamura and clubbed the Speaker's neck with a hammer fist nearly as hard as he could. Dreadfire knew that his full strength would easily decapitate Phillips, so he restrained himself so that the Speaker would live long enough to see the error of his ways.

As John received the smashing blow from the Warlord, the Sentinels in the room regained their composure, though their protective suits muffled the effects of the flashbang considerably. They immediatley grabbed ahold of John, beating him mercilessly with their fists and rifles as Damien grabbed a hand full of hair. He then yanked the Speaker's head back and got as close as he could to his face.

When I get done with you....you will wish that you had never been born. You will beg for death before the end, but you will not be so lucky. For you John, only the best.....Puritania...level 5. Get him out of here.

The Sentinels then dragged the Speaker from the room to the waiting vehicles outside, who had secured the area following the short exchange of gunfire from the two dead enemy soldiers. Phillips was then bound with irons and thrown into the trunk of a armored car, and the whole convoy then made their way to the one place no man could escape....the Halls of the Dead.

Back inside the Great Hall, Damien ordered his servants to clean the mess of human flesh that defiled his den. He then turned to one of his butlers and gave him short instructions, and those in the room immediately knew what would happen next.

Get me Dayne the Evenstar on my personal line in my throne room. We have much to discuss.

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

OOC: Continued here. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=490420)