NationStates Jolt Archive

Nina Vertlib was hesitant to look back as she made her way through the back streets; the attack had come from nowhere. A casually tossed bundle from a passing car had rolled underneath her limousine and promptly exploded, killing her chauffeur; as she picked herself up from the pavement, she noticed a man on the other side of the road, dressed in a greatcoat and sporting a distasteful smirk. As he began crossing towards her, her first instinct was to run.

Why? I'm an attorney, I don't deserve such....oh God. he knows, he knows, how could he know? We kept it quiet, we made sure no-one would find out...

The sudden realisation of her pursuer's purpose was halted by a soft thud, followed by the sudden searing pain in her left shoulder. Reaching for the impact site with her right hand, she suppressed a scream as she brought her now-bloody hand into view.

"Fraulein Vertlib, I highly recommend that you stop running. You will not get another five yards before you gain a matching pain in the back of your head....not that you will suffer that much from it. Please do not be so rude as to run again."

Her pursuer stepped closer, slowly and deliberately. "You have some interesting friends, Fraulein. Quite a varied selection indeed. I wonder what fantastic things you all dream about while you are together? I suppose we shall never know."

She began to turn towards him. "Please...."

"Ah, now don't beg. It's quite unattractive."

Grabbing her by her injured shoulder, the pursuer forced down to her knees.

"I would suggest saying any prayers that apostles have to ensure their road into heaven."

He does know, what about the oth-

As Nina Vertlib toppled forward, a bloody hole at the back of her head, the individual opened his greatcoat and reholstered his firearm before pressing the speed-dial on his cellphone.

"I have good news. The first note has been played."

He switched off his phone and smiled at Vertlib's body. "Be grateful that you won't have to hear the rest of our glorious production. It will be a masterpiece without equal; not available in any shops, this extravaganza will be delivered free of charge to all those who impede our progress."

As he turned away, he chuckled at his own line, knowing that none of his peers would find it half as amusing as he did.

[Tag - I like what I see!]

Austria won't get involved, to far from home and to many evils at our doorstep, still, it will keep an ear turned for any changes in tune.

Tag for now, nicely done.

Colonel Blubberworth yawned loudly as he settled down with yet another "last scotch of the night", chuckling in his usual jovial manner.

"Now now old boy, don't want to get too drunk..." *hic*

Shifting in his plush armchair, he went to reach for the nearby box of cigars. It wouldn't be too long before his long-suffering wife came downstairs to find him fast asleep, snoring loudly and once again almost setting the house on fire by resting his cigar on the armchair rather than an ashtray. With this in mind, he pulled an ashtray closer.

"Blubby? Are you down there again?"

"Yes, dear."

"Have you got an ashtray? I don't want to call the upholsterer again!"

"Yes, dear."

"Turn everything off when you come up, alright?"

"Yes, dear."

Bloody women, he thought to himself, only good for a few things really. He smiled as his eyelids began to feel heavier, and then almost leapt out of his chair as the phone rang.

"Blubby? Get that, will you?"

"Yes, dear."

Dashed unsporting to be calling a fellow at this time of night, probably Tseng again. Can't it wait?

"Hello?"

Blubberworth pulled the receiver away from his ear as the chorus of 'Ode to Joy' boomed down the line. As the music began to fade, he snapped at the caller.

"What do you think you're doing, you blighter? I'll give you a bloody good thrashing!"

"Judas sends his regards."

As the line went dead, Blubberworth put the receiver down and walked to the foot of the stairs.

"Dear, do we know anyone called Judas?"

The reply was drowned out by the explosion, along with the shattering of every window in the immediate area.


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An Undisclosed Location, South America

"It was a stunning forzando, you would have overcome with emotion. Where do we stand now?"

"The introduction is almost complete, and we shall soon begin the First Movement. This truly has been a beautiful night."

Setting down the receiver, Felix Reinhardt pressed a button on a nearby remote control. Walking to a nearby window, he gazed out at the night sky as 'Ode to Joy' began to permeate throughout the mansion.

"This is serious. We have hunters on our tail."

The gathered individuals murmured amongst themselves as Tseng looked around the room. The Apostles had been established according to the true will and testament of the late Russian President Vladimir Putin, who had provided the initial finance and purpose for the group; they were to bring democracy to all corners of the world, leaving the Tsarist regime in place until such time as the Russian people were once again strong enough to bring revolution to a monarchy. Tseng had been the executor of Putin's will, and was recognised as the unofficial leader of the organisation.

"Two nights ago, our friends Nina Vertlib and Colonel Blubberworth both died under suspicious circumstances. Nina was found dead in an alleyway, a bullet wound to her shoulder and a bullet hole in the back of her head; her firebombed limousine was located nearby, along with the charred corpse of her chauffeur. The Colonel and his wife had to be identified from their dental records after their home was destroyed in a violent explosion; local authorities are refusing to comment, but it is highly likely that it was foul play."

"A bomb? How would they get a bomb into his home?"

Tseng looked to Arawn, the burly Geletian whose passion often got the better of him.

"No idea. What I find to be of greater concern is the fact that two of our members died on the same night, both in dubious fashion. One death could have been an accident or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time; I think it's obvious that we are being stalked. It's quite possible that Wingert's forces have discovered us."

Arawn shook his head. "Nah, I disagree. Wingert's forces would have taken us all out in one night. Nina may have made enemies in her daily profession; someone she didn't defend eagerly enough, I don't know. As for Blubberworth, any number of people would love to kill a Roik, especially now with the Suez debacle. All the same, we should probably stay vigilant. If any of us feel in danger, then we should keep in constant contact to warn the others."

Tseng sighed before replying. "Alright, I want everyone to remain safe. If anything arouses your suspicions, flee to somewhere secure and find some way, any way, to contact the others about the threat. Also, keep your ears open for information. If we can discover anything then we will be one step closer to being able to strike back."


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South America

"Carlos, you've passed your eye over the details. What do you think?"

"The transfer would be simple; it would take me less than a day to set everything up. When do you want it done by?"

"Have it ready as soon as possible. I plan to have this over with soon; we can then begin our great work. Be proud Carlos, history will remember you fondly for your part in all this."

As Carlos Garza turned to go, he handed a document to Felix. "I don't need this anymore, I've taken as much as I can from it."

Reinhardt laughed as he walked to the fireplace. "No-one will need this anymore, unless they wish to view another example of how legacies can fall to ashes."

Casually tossing the document onto the roaring fire, he turned on his heel and left the room as the copy of Putin's Last Will and Testament was consumed by the flames.

Though I am sure that this is a USQ problem, would there be room for zealous KGB/Kargat agents in here?

Tsar Wingert the Great.

Though I am sure that this is a USQ problem, would there be room for zealous KGB/Kargat agents in here?

Tsar Wingert the Great.

(OOC: All in your TGs, my friend.)

South America

Felix Reinhardt slowly made his way down the lavishly decorated corridor, humming quietly to himself; to his right walked Carlos Garza, the organisation's resident financial specialist and acquisitions expert. Carlos had been with the group since before Felix's ascension to leadership; verging on obesity and highly jovial, Carlos knew numerous ways to make money.

To Felix's left was Helmut Schraeder, the Reinhardt family retainer for as long as Felix could remember. Helmut's dry wit and advanced years hid the fact that he could still handle himself in a fight; although he was long since retired from active service, he still kept himself in shape. If nothing else, he was still a crack shot.

As they reached the lounge and Helmut opened the double glass doors for his master, the occupants of the room quickly stood, snapping their heels together; Felix smiled and gestured for them to sit before taking his place in a plush armchair. Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, Helmut offered Felix a small cigar, instantly pocketing the box and producing a lighter. Felix took a drag from the cigar before addressing the room.

"Dammen und herren, we are in the best position that our organisation ever has been. Under the leadership of Sebastian Jaeger this group did virtually nothing. We lost our way, we were content to sunbathe, forgetting the stories of our grandparents and parents. It is time to get back into action.

We have started this action by eliminating a well-meaning yet impotent collection of fools calling themselves 'Apostles'. They aim to bring democracy to the world, all very noble if entirely pointless. Our Great Work will be assisted by these misguided idealists, whether they realise it or not. Along the way, we got to kill a Roik, incidentally."

Felix smirked at the applause before continuing. "Yes, I was pleased as well. Anyway, this matter will be over soon enough; we are giving them what the historians call a 'Phony War', a disarming lull before we finish them. We have a friend on the inside who claims he can convince them to join with us out of fear. This would be excellent, since they have much in the way of assets; Carlos assures me that those assets can be transferred and hidden within twenty-four hours of our acquisition of them."

Carlos cleared his throat. "Better make it a week just to be sure."

"Alright then, a week. Still a paltry period of time. My friends, this is the introduction of the greatest performance that history will ever know. You all know your parts, and you all know that we did not embark on this just to fail. The world has moved on, tried to forget about us. France is the 'evil empire' of the moment, the democracies and the Marxists struggle over territories like children. No-one cares about this part of the world, they all look elsewhere. The time is ripe. Die Letztes Symphonie will be heard around the world."

Tseng pulled his coat collar tighter as he stepped out of the elevator into the underground parking lot; it was a particularly cold night, but thankfully a quiet one. It had been a month since the last Apostle meeting, and nothing had happened since; no deaths, no threats, nothing. Part of him wanted to accept that the deaths of Nina Vertlib and Colonel Blubberworth were coincidence, that no-one knew of the Apostles and their goals. However, the rest of him still screamed that in their situation, there was no such thing as coincidence.

He checked his watch, cursing at the late hour as he made his way towards the car. Glancing quickly around the empty lot, he frowned as his driver stayed sitting in the drivers seat; Tseng tapped at the window with no success. Grasping the handle, he was surprised when the door easily swung open.

"Are you alright?"

His question was answered when the driver slumped forward, his body disturbed by Tseng's actions; checking the corpse revealed bruising which travelled across his throat.

"What the...."

Tseng's words were cut off as the garotte was quickly slipped over his head and round his throat; unfortunately for his attacker, Tseng was no defenceless victim. A swift elbow to the ribs led to the garotte's release; Tseng then grabbed the assailant's arm, flipped him to the ground and locked in a painful joint lock.

--------------------------

"Who the hell are you, and why did you try to attack me?"

"Herr Tseng, you are impeding one of the greatest masterpieces in history. Kindly die and get out of the way."

Tseng looked around for the source of the voice, distracting him long enough for his assailant to quickly raise his leg and land a swift kick to Tseng's jaw. As Tseng reeled, two more men emerged from the shadows, holding him as the first assailant handed out a retaliatory beating. A fourth man emerged, carrying a laptop and webcam; after setting it up on Tseng's car, he motioned for the Apostle to be brought closer as he tapped a few commands. As Tseng's bloody and bruised face was held up to the webcam, Felix Reinhardt's smirking face appeared onscreen.

"Ah, Herr Tseng, at last we meet. I am dreadfully sorry for this, but you are a major roadblock for our Great Work. However, as I am not a monster, I will give you a chance to wal...well, limp away from this. Agree to dissolve the Apostles and transfer all assets to my organisation, then you can make your own way to the nearest hospital. I would hurry though; by the looks of you, you'll probably die soon."

Tseng managed a wincing smile. "Kiss my ass."

Reinhardt sighed. "Well, I did try. No matter, we have someone who can do it all once you're out of the way."

"Who?"

"Tilt his head upwards, let him see his Judas before he joins his God in Heaven."

Tseng's head was abruptly jerked upwards to face the individual who had carried the laptop; the sneer on Arawn's lips made Tseng's heart sink.

"Arawn?!"

The Geletian reached into his pocket and produced a switchblade. "Sorry Tseng, but you never had it in you to make revolutions happen; they do. I want to change the world, and that begins right here, right now. It's nothing personal, you understand."

On the screen, Reinhardt turned his back as the blade was slipped between Tseng's ribs, finding his heart.

South America

"So what is the good word from our friend?"

Felix took a drag from his cigarillo as Helmut poured out some tea; the Symphonie leader looked across at Mannfred Nacht, the group's Chief of Special Operations and former unofficial advisor to several unsavoury regimes.

"The Geletian is holding an emergency meeting of the Apostles in a few hours. Something about introducing you as a provider of sanctuary for all the cowards amongst their ranks; of course, it's up to you how you want to play it."

"Hmm. Well, their assets are the only reason we haven't wiped them out, the individuals are all expendable. Once Carlos confirms receipt of said assets, they can all be removed."

"There's quite a number of them, I'm not sure how long it would take."

Felix chuckled. "Mannfred, we would not do it ourselves. An anonymous tip to Wingert's hounds and they will take care of the issue."

"What about the Geletian?"

"He has some potential, we shall let him function as one of us as a trial period."

---------------------------------

Arawn scowled as he entered the meeting room, casting a look at the remaining Apostles.

"Tseng is dead. Found stabbed and beaten in an underground parking lot. His driver was also killed. I've asked around, pulled in favours, and it looks like we've got Wingert's hounds tracking us. They might catch us any minute."

He held up his hand to silence the worried muttering. "We do have an alternative. I have a friend who lives in South America who can protect as many of us as can get over there, and I suggest moving our assets as well. From South America we can reassess the situation and rebuild ourselves; we would have to go slowly though. If we all went at once, then we would attract attention. To that end, we shall transfer our assets first; I shall go to South America to oversee everything. Once we have a sanctuary established, you can start moving over, a few at a time."

One of the others raised her hand. "We're supposed to let you go to South America with the group's assets on a promise that you'll send for us?!"

Arawn slammed his hands down on the table.

"It's either that or we wait in our homes for death to knock on the door! After all we've been through, you choose now to stop trusting me, at the one time when we need to trust each other! Have I ever done anything to warrant your mistrust? Of course not! I recognise that you are scared, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. However, we can't just turn up in South America and then transfer everything, our assets would have been seized by then.

I realise that this is not a perfect situation. Once we make it to South America, any of you who wish to live a quiet life can leave with no resentment. Look at it this way; in the aftermath of World War II, a lot of Germans made it to South America. If they could do it, so can we."

South America

"The funds and assets have been transferred, as well as those charitable fronts; we can access the money whenever we want. Unfortunately we had to pay for some mercenaries to bring over the hardware, but it's all registered as part of a private collection now, with a paper trail that will take years to sort through."

Felix smirked and clapped Carlos on the back. "Well done, excellent work. How's the Geletian doing?"

"He was helpful enough, but I must admit I have my doubts about him. He's a Geletian, they have a natural tendency to ruin best-laid plans. I would suggest eliminating him; after all, the world would hardly suffer for having one less Geletian."

"I shall take your opinion under consideration, Carlos. Mannfred is also wary of him; perhaps I have more optimism about him. Anyway, that is a matter for another time. Our concern at this time is the end of the Apostles; their Judas has acted according to our plan, now it is time for them to disappear."

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An anonymous letter would shortly be delivered to the KGB/Kargat, providing names and addresses of all surviving Apostles; the letter would accuse them of 'anti-Tsarist activities'. Also enclosed with the letter was an edited copy of Putin's Last Will and Testament, highlighted to point at the Apostles' ultimate aim of overthrowing the Tsar. Arawn had been careful not to disclose much about his new friends, so any interrogation would reveal that he had fled to South America, but not much else besides that.