NationStates Jolt Archive

All communications coming from Crimmond that are not vital to safety, including personal transmissions, are overrode by the Imperial International Newslink logo. Historically, that meant something important(and usually bad) was about to be announced.

The image shifts to that of an older man in a beret, aviator sunglasses and a heavy coat. Everyone in the Empire knew who he was, but he told them again. "Greetings, fellow citizens. I am High Commander Andrew Coleman IV, retired. Khan Delta has been out of the nation for some time. His warlord in Gholgoth, Gar, has been equally absent. The Redeemer is absent. This leaves a void that must be filled. I am hereby coming out of retirement and will be taking my place, once again, as High Commander." The man was well into his sixties, his hair was actually part of the beret, his aviators hid sunken, tired eyes and his jacket hid a frail body. But he was still the same man in his mind. And if his image was more false now than it had been in his youth? So be it. He stepped down with a limp and the camera panned back. It showed him using a cane, to make up for a missing right foot. War injuries, the people were told. Illness, in reality.

He limped his way into the center of the Senate Chambers. "The Senate will be reforged.It will be led by a person able to control anything laid before her. I give you.... Larea dinAthos." He steps aside and a naturally bald, but no less beautiful, woman steps forward and bows her head to the High Commander.

"Many of you recognize me. I am Larea dinAthos, former Foriegn Minister for Riel Tian. Reports of my death during Varchak's so called Cleansing are not far from the truth. I was nearly fatally wounded and, while my husband died, I fell into a coma. I have returned to nearly full health and am ready to serve the High Commander in all things, as Senate Leader." She smiles at him, then continues, naming various important members of society as Senators and the like. Important stuff, but not too interesting.

In the background, Imperial Marines opened a doorway and a man stepped into the chambers, walking quickly up to the High Commander, saluting. Coleman returned the salute and spoke as Larea finished. "Another addition will be Commander of the Myer Garrison. While this usually falls to the most capable commander, I feel that both capable and personable is needed in this matter. I therefore promote Colonol Virgil Hilts to Major General." An odd move, to skip a full paygrade. "He has proven himself more a patriot than may field officers. He left the Marines when Delta took power. He came back when Delta returned and routed the Black Staff. He refused to take part in such a dark organization, but jumped to remove it's taint from the nation. Congratulations, General." They both saluted again and Hilts looked nearly dumbfounded. Nearly.

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/HighCommander.jpg
High Commander Andrew Coleman IV

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/Dinathos.jpg
Senate Leader Larea dinAthos

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/bullitta.jpg
Major General Virgil Hilts

----------

Delta was still in AMF, with the Redeemer. He looked at the ground and then at the masked clone of Dreadfire. The news reports were showing the events. "Our time in Crimmond is at an end, Redeemer. We are remaining here in Dreadfire's lands."

The barely mentally stable man nodded deeply. "Yes, my Khan." Delta felt a twinge of pain cross his being. To see what Damien could have become. Nothing but an overly violent slave. It was... unsettling.

"Come. We have much work to do. Perhaps I'll let you have fun in the Halls of the Dead later." Delta despised this. Talking to the Redeemer like it was four years old. It had to be done though. To ensure Damien did not falter from the proper path. The Gods were not through with Damien yet and neither were the Devils. He stopped an aide and commanded him to send word to the High Commander that he wished Crimmond well and that he would not challenge his right to lead, unless he became another Varchak.

---

CAIRO

A bomb went off in a marketplace. People ran, screamed in terror and agony. It was what the Western media loved to see. This was different, though. It wasn't suicidal. It was a remote trigger bomb that was hidden in a cart of cheap trinkets, designed to make a lot of noise, but only wound those within ten feet of the cart. At the same time, gunfire rang out. Single shots, from high caliber rifles. In a city where gunfire is not out of the ordinary, that type was very out of the ordinary.

Gunnery Sergeant Samantha Laren looked through the scope of her FALCON sniper rifle. It didn't look like a rifle, in the classic sense. No underbarell grip, no fancy butt, no wood or modled plastic. It looked like fancy plumbing parts with a nice scope. It was indeed a special scope, not given to run of the mill sniper scouts. She didn't need a spotter, with this kit. A pull of teh triggar and she watched a target fall, the top of his skull missing. Weapon was packed up and she vanished into the building again, carrying a standard OICW type rifle as she stepped onto the street. The sniper rifle was broken down and stored across her body armor, to attract less attention overall. The armor was different in it's own way. It resembled a medieval knight more than a modern soldier and was equipped with everything she needed to survive in the middle of the Sahara for a week and a half and remain hidden from the enemy. There was only one marking on the left breastplate, marking her as an Imperial Commando. Marines and civilians got out of her way as she lept over a one story tall crumbling wall and landed in a marketplace with a dull thud, before jogging through it. She wasn't worried about being seen. To see a Commando coming for you was one thing. To be able to do something about it was something completely different.

Bullets pock marked a building as she ran. She rolled to a croutch and returned fire, launching an HE grenade into the room the attackers were firing from. The sounds of screams replaced the sounds of gunfire. She got up and kept running, leaving the wounded enemy to either die or be treated by whatever allies he had. She didn't need to be a completist today. Another leap brought her over another crumbled wall. A bullet pinged off her gauntlet. It didn't break the bone, but her hand now throbbed. Spinning, she brought her rifle to bear on an Imperial Marine Private. "What the hell is wrong with you, Marine?!" she snapped.

He stared at her armor. It hid her sex nicely, making her into a Commando in looks and mind. Not a Woman Marine. 'I... uh... Sorry Sergeant! I fired on instinct."

"I know that. But why is your weapon on Single Shot? Switch to Burst and carry on." She ordered and vanished between a couple buildings, leaving the dombfounded marine to wonder what was wrong with Commando's mental state. Stopping in an alley, Laren eyed a door, before smashing it and stepping inside the hovel of a home. This was the target's home, all right. He stared dumbfounded at her, his AK-74 disassembled on the table for servicing. She pulled her combat knife and threw it in one fluid motion, letting it imbed itself in his skull. "Never clean your rifle without a secondary weapon within reach." She muttered and pulled the knife free, exiting the way she came.

---

IIN reports that fifteen warlords have been killed in Africa. These men were not supporters of the Empire and were threats to the population. In reality, they were influentual members of the society that could sway the masses against the Empire. Best to remove them before they had the chance and place your own influences in the society.

Coleman sat in the old leather chair that every Emperor of Crimmond used. It was behind the desk they had all used. In the office they all used. It was the second time he was here as High Commander and he never realized how much he missed this room.

It was a throwback from the rest of the palace and it's modern convieneances, save for the terminal on the desk. Bookshelves held leather bound volumes and the smell of preserving oils filled the air. He loved it. Unfortunatly, it was broken by the presence of Larea dinAthos, as she entered.

The bald woman's skull held more than brains, it held a small computer, which could link with the computers of the Palace wirelessly. "High Commander." She bowed and stepped forward. As usual, she wore the garments of a lab technician, rather than clothes befitting her position. One part of him didn't like that, while another did. She wasn't making herself better than a common tech, but was not making herself a figure one could look at and know instantly that they were powerful.

"Larea." He nodded and stepped forward. "There's a reason I summoned you here. I wish you to choose my foriegn relations advisor. I have little skill in that, but you have done the job before. I trust in your wisdom."

The cybrog woman that looked anything but a cyborg nodded. "I believe there are only a handful of persons able to perform such a task." She even spoke like a computer, "One is myself, but that is not efficient. I shall draw up a list for you as soon as possible." And she left.

-------

The internal structure of the Crimmond Imperial Inquisition is relativly unknown outside of the Inquisition, which is not surprising of the most secretive organization in a society that is near xenophobic in it's reaction to foriegners, even of the same species. What is clear is that while other Inquisitions have had a basis in religion, the Crimmond Inquisition had no such justification, as religion in general is almost completely banned and organized religion is totally banned. It was simply too troublesome an institution to keep around. So the Inquisition was formed in a unique way: From the ashes of the Black Staff, Crimmond's now defunct intelligence branch and the single most corrupt and evil group in Crim history. The organization of such an Inquisition is a mystery to many, but it works and that is what matters.

What they do not know is what they have taken from the old Inquisitions, particularly the Spanish. The Rack. The Pear. Finger Screws. The Interrogation Chair. All were used effectively for centuries, so were adopted by the Inquisition, who added their own methods. Water Torture. Electric Torture. The Mind Ripper. That last one was the one no one outside the Inquisition knew of in any form. The ability to rip knowledge from the mind, leaving no detail unfound, no truth covered sounds like a perfect interrogation device, but it's only side effect is permanent and irreversable psychosis. It is therefore rarely employed.

It's rank system is equally independant from others. From Inquisitor Cadet, to Inquisitor, to Senior Inquisitor to Inquisitor Elite and Master Inquisitor to the Inquisitor Consular and the High Inquisitor, the top two positions in the organization. No one is drummed out of the Inquisition. No one is allowed to retire. Once you no longer wish to be in the Inquisition or are found to be lacking, you are terminated. Or, if you have turned on the Inquisition, are subjected to the Mind Ripper before being killed.

But it had been without it's High Inquisitor for months. So a new one was chosen. Epsilon stepped into the High Inquisitor's office and looked around. Utilitarian. Spartan. Had a hidden elevator down to the Interrogation Level. Just how she would design it. Sitting behind the desk, she smilled for a moment. Her real name was gone years ago. Stripped from her. She was Number 6, or Epsilon. The sixth Black Staff agent and one of only three that were loyal only to Delta and helped him destroy the Black Staff he once led. Now he was gone and she was heading the Inquisition. "However much things change, they stay the same." She muttered and made a press release announcing her new position and renewing the Inquisition's pledge of loyalty to the High Commander.

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/underworld2.gif
Epsilon
High Inquisitor
Former Black Staff Agent