Kilani
06-01-2007, 23:57
January 6
Green River, Kilani
The morning hustle and bustle of the Kilanian capital was normal and everyone was going about their business. Uniformed police patrolled in pairs, walking their beats, some of them preparing to get off the night shift and go home to well-deserved rest. For a communist country, Kilani was very prosperous economically. The nation had been guided by a knowledgeable and intelligent set of presidents and senates, leaving it one of the largest and most prosperous nations in the world. It was also very democratic, with presidential elections taking place every six years and senatorial every three. However, that was all about to change today.
Constable Sergei Gallatinov yawned, stretching his arms and taking a moment to lean against a lamppost and light a ciggerate. His partner, Viktor, stood by and watched, keeping an eye on the passing traffic.
”Ahh…My poor aching legs. I’m looking forward to home and a hot shower…”
Viktor nodded in agreement, grinning. “Yeah, these night shifts are hell. Only a few more weeks and we get rotated into daytime.”
“Thank God! Sleeping during the day and working during the night makes me feel like an owl…”
Sergei cocked his head, listening for a moment. He had served his two years in the military and knew that sound when he heard it…
”Viktor, do you hear…tank treads?”
Viktor paused and listened, straining to hear over the passing traffic. “Now that you mention it, yes.”
The sound grew in volume and traffic slowed, some cars pulling to the side of the road, while others pulled off into side streets. A few moments later a column og tanks, armored personel carriers, and trucks with grim-faced soldiers riding on them came roaring by, heading in the direction of the Senate Hall and Presidential Offices. Both police officers stood and stared, watching as the column went past. Then they looked at each other and Sergei reached for his radio.
At the Presidential Offices, President Alexei Lorenov was just going into his daily routine. He had been handed the day’s agenda, the daily intelligence reports and his usual cup of coffee (black). He took a slurp and sat down at his desk, the ever-present CSB bodyguards hovering near the edges of the room. Vice-President Stolyin was out of town today. A family emergency in Trachimbord or something. Pity. He could have used his help…
At the gate to the government complex, Lieutenant Pyotr Deschnko was walking his rounds, inspecting the guards and making sure none of them were slacking off. He and his comrades were elites, members of the Presidential Guard, a battalion of battle-ready men who guarded the President and the other government officials at all times. He coked his head, listeing for a moment and then turned his head, watchingi n amazement as a column of armored vehicles roared towards the gate. He walked into the guardhouse and picked up the phone, “Colonel? This is Lieutenant Deschnko at the front gate. There is a column of armored vehicles approaching. Is there some sort of exercise going on?”
Even as he spoke, the lead vehicles gunner had decided that they were no longer waiting. There was burst of machine gun fire and the two guards in their boxes crumpled to the ground under the hail of bullets. Deschenko ducked, dropping the phone and drawing his pistol, his other hand slamming the “panic button” underneath the desk. The sergeant and two privates in the guardhouse had picked up their Hali-42s. The guardhouse itself was made of reinforced concrete, with bullet proof windows. That didn’t mean they would stop a cannon round, however.
The column roared on, the lead vehicle slamming into the gate as an alarm klaxon began sounding throughout the complex. Presidential Guard members began streaming out into the courtyard, toting weapons. The APC hit the gates and kept going, literally tearing the gates askew and grinding the wrought-iron underneath its treads. The cannon on top rotated and fired, taking out several Guards troops. The Guards were taken aback by the sight of their own vehicles firing on them and there was confusion for a few moments as they fell back, taking more casualties.
Alexei found himself pulled to his feet and being rushed through the complex by a group of CSB agents and Guards troops. He could hear automatic weapons fire outside, the sound of armored vehicles and the deeper booming of an autocannon. He was hustled out of the back towards the helicopter pad, which was already surrounded by a ring of Guards troops, weapons pointed outwards. As he was climbing into the helicopter, the protective ring was horrified to see a Hind gunship climb over the rooftops and begin it’s descent towards the landing pad. Alexei turned in time to see the Hind come to a hover, the ground troops firing hopelessly, trying to bring it down with small arms fire.
“Oh, God…”
The Hind fired.
Kilani People’s Network Emergency Broadcast
The image of a pale-looking and frazzled anchor comes into focus, his hands visibly trembling. He folds them and begins speaking, his voice nervous.
“Comrades of Kilani, I have grave news to report. Earlier this morning, the President, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Chief of Staff, along with most of the Presidential Guard, were killed by counter-revolutionary forces that stormed the Presidential Offices complex. Casualties are reported to be high. There has been no confirmation on the fate of many of the Senators. At least ten have been confirmed as killed. The Vice-President has declared a state of emergency and ordered all militia members to report to their assembly stations, while fighting continues in the capital between police and counter-revolutionaries. There have been unconfirmed reports of fighing in other cities between loyal army units and the traitors Standby for later rep-“
There is a loud bang off-screen and the sound of gunfire. Screams are heard and the anchor ducks, scrambling out of the picture. For the next few minutes there is only the empty chair and desk, while groans and sobs are heard, followed by footsteps. A general in full regalia, menacingly protected by several rifle-toting soldiers steps into the picture and sits down at the desk. He begins to speak.
“People of Kilani, I am General Yuri Brilev of the Army of Liberation. Until recently I was in the service of the communist overlords. However, I have merely been biding my time! Waiting for the opportunity to liberate our country from the grip of communism. That day has come! I call on all loyalists, all true patriots to join me in throwing off the communist yoke! I am hereby declaring myself interim president until such a time as the country is stabilized. Death to the communists! Liberation is at hand!”
The transmission cuts out, returning to regularly scheduled programming.
OOC: Please send me a TG if you would like to get involved. Those of you are already invited know who you are. Game on.
Green River, Kilani
The morning hustle and bustle of the Kilanian capital was normal and everyone was going about their business. Uniformed police patrolled in pairs, walking their beats, some of them preparing to get off the night shift and go home to well-deserved rest. For a communist country, Kilani was very prosperous economically. The nation had been guided by a knowledgeable and intelligent set of presidents and senates, leaving it one of the largest and most prosperous nations in the world. It was also very democratic, with presidential elections taking place every six years and senatorial every three. However, that was all about to change today.
Constable Sergei Gallatinov yawned, stretching his arms and taking a moment to lean against a lamppost and light a ciggerate. His partner, Viktor, stood by and watched, keeping an eye on the passing traffic.
”Ahh…My poor aching legs. I’m looking forward to home and a hot shower…”
Viktor nodded in agreement, grinning. “Yeah, these night shifts are hell. Only a few more weeks and we get rotated into daytime.”
“Thank God! Sleeping during the day and working during the night makes me feel like an owl…”
Sergei cocked his head, listening for a moment. He had served his two years in the military and knew that sound when he heard it…
”Viktor, do you hear…tank treads?”
Viktor paused and listened, straining to hear over the passing traffic. “Now that you mention it, yes.”
The sound grew in volume and traffic slowed, some cars pulling to the side of the road, while others pulled off into side streets. A few moments later a column og tanks, armored personel carriers, and trucks with grim-faced soldiers riding on them came roaring by, heading in the direction of the Senate Hall and Presidential Offices. Both police officers stood and stared, watching as the column went past. Then they looked at each other and Sergei reached for his radio.
At the Presidential Offices, President Alexei Lorenov was just going into his daily routine. He had been handed the day’s agenda, the daily intelligence reports and his usual cup of coffee (black). He took a slurp and sat down at his desk, the ever-present CSB bodyguards hovering near the edges of the room. Vice-President Stolyin was out of town today. A family emergency in Trachimbord or something. Pity. He could have used his help…
At the gate to the government complex, Lieutenant Pyotr Deschnko was walking his rounds, inspecting the guards and making sure none of them were slacking off. He and his comrades were elites, members of the Presidential Guard, a battalion of battle-ready men who guarded the President and the other government officials at all times. He coked his head, listeing for a moment and then turned his head, watchingi n amazement as a column of armored vehicles roared towards the gate. He walked into the guardhouse and picked up the phone, “Colonel? This is Lieutenant Deschnko at the front gate. There is a column of armored vehicles approaching. Is there some sort of exercise going on?”
Even as he spoke, the lead vehicles gunner had decided that they were no longer waiting. There was burst of machine gun fire and the two guards in their boxes crumpled to the ground under the hail of bullets. Deschenko ducked, dropping the phone and drawing his pistol, his other hand slamming the “panic button” underneath the desk. The sergeant and two privates in the guardhouse had picked up their Hali-42s. The guardhouse itself was made of reinforced concrete, with bullet proof windows. That didn’t mean they would stop a cannon round, however.
The column roared on, the lead vehicle slamming into the gate as an alarm klaxon began sounding throughout the complex. Presidential Guard members began streaming out into the courtyard, toting weapons. The APC hit the gates and kept going, literally tearing the gates askew and grinding the wrought-iron underneath its treads. The cannon on top rotated and fired, taking out several Guards troops. The Guards were taken aback by the sight of their own vehicles firing on them and there was confusion for a few moments as they fell back, taking more casualties.
Alexei found himself pulled to his feet and being rushed through the complex by a group of CSB agents and Guards troops. He could hear automatic weapons fire outside, the sound of armored vehicles and the deeper booming of an autocannon. He was hustled out of the back towards the helicopter pad, which was already surrounded by a ring of Guards troops, weapons pointed outwards. As he was climbing into the helicopter, the protective ring was horrified to see a Hind gunship climb over the rooftops and begin it’s descent towards the landing pad. Alexei turned in time to see the Hind come to a hover, the ground troops firing hopelessly, trying to bring it down with small arms fire.
“Oh, God…”
The Hind fired.
Kilani People’s Network Emergency Broadcast
The image of a pale-looking and frazzled anchor comes into focus, his hands visibly trembling. He folds them and begins speaking, his voice nervous.
“Comrades of Kilani, I have grave news to report. Earlier this morning, the President, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Chief of Staff, along with most of the Presidential Guard, were killed by counter-revolutionary forces that stormed the Presidential Offices complex. Casualties are reported to be high. There has been no confirmation on the fate of many of the Senators. At least ten have been confirmed as killed. The Vice-President has declared a state of emergency and ordered all militia members to report to their assembly stations, while fighting continues in the capital between police and counter-revolutionaries. There have been unconfirmed reports of fighing in other cities between loyal army units and the traitors Standby for later rep-“
There is a loud bang off-screen and the sound of gunfire. Screams are heard and the anchor ducks, scrambling out of the picture. For the next few minutes there is only the empty chair and desk, while groans and sobs are heard, followed by footsteps. A general in full regalia, menacingly protected by several rifle-toting soldiers steps into the picture and sits down at the desk. He begins to speak.
“People of Kilani, I am General Yuri Brilev of the Army of Liberation. Until recently I was in the service of the communist overlords. However, I have merely been biding my time! Waiting for the opportunity to liberate our country from the grip of communism. That day has come! I call on all loyalists, all true patriots to join me in throwing off the communist yoke! I am hereby declaring myself interim president until such a time as the country is stabilized. Death to the communists! Liberation is at hand!”
The transmission cuts out, returning to regularly scheduled programming.
OOC: Please send me a TG if you would like to get involved. Those of you are already invited know who you are. Game on.