British Londinium
16-01-2007, 02:55
OOC: This is building off the invasion thread.
Kensington Palace, Kensington
1300 hrs
The Coalition bombers pummelled the opulent and majestic residence of the President. Bombs destroyed priceless works of art, crucial documents, and federal employees. Statues of the emperors and empresses of old laid shattered on the marble floors.
Prætorian Guards marched towards the President's office, under orders to rescue him.
Sir President Phillip Sinclair stood slumped over his mahogany desk, coughing up blood on to a copy of the new constitutional amendments that had been enacted.
"Mr. President!" shouted a Guard. "You need to come with us!"
"No..." mumbled Sinclair as he passed out. A Guard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him on to a Land Rover destined for a secure bunker in Westminster.
Kensington
1800 hrs.
A police convoy drove through the streets of Canary Wharf, the downtown sector of Kensington. Shards of glass, once used in the construction of palatial skyscrapers littered the palm-tree lined avenues. Flames broiled amongst the ruins.
The klaxons moved towards Kensington Palace, and hundreds of blue-clad police constables in body armour advanced towards the building.
Commissioner Ian Onatopp tagged behind them, escorted by a group of CO19 police-commandos.
A commander who had led a team into the palace strode over towards the Commissioner.
"Sir, we've found no trace of any senior level of government, and the surveillance cameras in the underground tunnel linking Victoria and Ganapati are out," he reported.
"So we've got no government..." Onatopp mused. "Then as the ranking government official, and with the military's command structure crippled, I am assuming the presidency. If we find Sinclair, I want him shot. He was a weak one anyways."
Kensington Palace, Kensington
1300 hrs
The Coalition bombers pummelled the opulent and majestic residence of the President. Bombs destroyed priceless works of art, crucial documents, and federal employees. Statues of the emperors and empresses of old laid shattered on the marble floors.
Prætorian Guards marched towards the President's office, under orders to rescue him.
Sir President Phillip Sinclair stood slumped over his mahogany desk, coughing up blood on to a copy of the new constitutional amendments that had been enacted.
"Mr. President!" shouted a Guard. "You need to come with us!"
"No..." mumbled Sinclair as he passed out. A Guard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him on to a Land Rover destined for a secure bunker in Westminster.
Kensington
1800 hrs.
A police convoy drove through the streets of Canary Wharf, the downtown sector of Kensington. Shards of glass, once used in the construction of palatial skyscrapers littered the palm-tree lined avenues. Flames broiled amongst the ruins.
The klaxons moved towards Kensington Palace, and hundreds of blue-clad police constables in body armour advanced towards the building.
Commissioner Ian Onatopp tagged behind them, escorted by a group of CO19 police-commandos.
A commander who had led a team into the palace strode over towards the Commissioner.
"Sir, we've found no trace of any senior level of government, and the surveillance cameras in the underground tunnel linking Victoria and Ganapati are out," he reported.
"So we've got no government..." Onatopp mused. "Then as the ranking government official, and with the military's command structure crippled, I am assuming the presidency. If we find Sinclair, I want him shot. He was a weak one anyways."