NationStates Jolt Archive

John jumped over the front desk and looked around. It seemed as though everyone had vanished. Things had gotten worse. Maybe Kevin had been finally caught by the Doomani. He could be rotting in some jail cell or in pain. John assumed that it would be the latter. Though all this danger came with being an Agent for the Canadstein government.

Back at home a memorial had been erected, inside the Agent's Building, for all the men and women who have vanished during missions. In total forty-five had been reported as missing in action in the 150 year history of the organization. The last MIA had been almost ten years ago. John was not going to let that tradition be broken.

Once again he yelled out.

"Is there anyone who can help me?"

Heston-City, Allanea

A single tourist bag was forgotten by someone standing on a bus station.

Nobody paid much attention to it.

That in and of itself was a major mistake.

The bag was filled with twenty kilograms of Composition Five and an additional twenty kilograms of buckhshot.

At noon, Heston City Time, it blew up. Thirteen people were killed. Twenty-five were injured, of which three died of their wounds later.

Three separate groups took responsibility for the act, but only one was seriously suspected.

It was the Allanean Republican Army, an organization hitherto unheard of.

It’s demands, sent to multiple Allanean organizations and posted on the Internet, were many, but key of them were the cessation of all hostilities in Africa, the introduction of separation of church and state of Allanea, and an end to the Allanean monarchy.

What the Allaneans did not know was that a message was also delivered to the Whyaticans in South Africa:

You do not know us, but by our works. We wish to fight on your side against the Imperialist Monarchist Scum that have taken over our fair motherland. If you allow us, we will send our leaders and a few select instructors into Africa, to help train anti-Imperialist resistance units. We will also continue resistance within Allanea itself.

Hail freedom!
Hail Allanea!
Down with the monarchist dogs!

Southern Front Defence, Whyatican Africa
With a brief respite in the artillery bombardment, the trenches were reinforced with thousands of soldiers, and a perplexing development occured - much of the heavy armour and tanks were pulled back. The smaller numbers of Whyatican tanks would do little good in the harsh terrain of Africa, and they were being withdrawn via SuC-1 Stormbringer cargo planes to the Doomani North Africa, where the terrain was far friendlier to tank warfare. To replace them, three legions of Doomani infantry were being flown in at the same time, these men hardened soldiers and ready to fight to the death for those that would defend the Holy Land.

Counterbattery fire continued to pour in earnest, with the addition of extra batteries being brought online, as well as the mammoth 30" quintuple turret adding it's firepower from the coast. More MRLS systems had been rushed out of vehicle depots as soon as the first shots were fired, replacing the few that were destroyed by Allanean fire, spamming missiles at the Allanean batteries and airbursting anti-infantry ordinance over the Allanean advance in a broad front. 220mm artillery shells rained across the Allanean infantry and armour as they attempted to slog through the harsh conditions of no man's land, while other batteries focused their fire across the Allanean side, smashing into artillery batteries, MRLS, tank depots, fuel, and ammunition. Anti-air battieres, in particularly the activated M-THEL system, began to earn it's keep by shooting down hundreds of rockets, mortars, and shells.

As the Allanean armour attempted to negotiate the terrain, which rough already was only getting rougher with shell-holes, craters, and the dead, a new foe approached - hundreds of anti-tank guided missiles, from entrenched infantry. Using a top-attack vector would dodge the most heavily armoured glacis plate of the tank, and have a far better chance of destroying the tank or killing the crew. Machine-gun nests that had been largely untouched from the hellish artillery fire opened up, putting thousands and thousands of rounds across the no man's land in a very short time, making it effectively impossible for an infantryman to stand up while the enfilading fire was coming at him.

Airfields
Anti-air defences desperately fired into the skies at the incoming god-rods - in lucky cases, the anti-air missile impacted the godrod and sent it far off course, slamming into Angolan civilian areas and killing thousands. Before when the Angolan population may not have cared if the Allaneans invaded and displaced the Whyaticans - new boss, same shit, after all - but the deaths of thousands would not go unavenged. Dozens of other rods slammed into the runways, effectively ruining several airports until vehicles had the opportunity to throw as much concrete as possible in the crater. VTOL aircraft were still capable of liftoff - but those were few and far between, and they were mostly being used to ferry concrete and other supplies to the right area to rebuild as many runways as possible.

One airport in the North of Angola was completely untouched - three god-send missiles had knocked out the incoming godrods and saved the thirty Sariel bombers posted there. They were armed and ready for launch - the next, massive raid against the tank force coming on the Southeast border of Angola. Each one was armed with 27,500 kilograms of anti-tank ordinance, and the sheer number of bombs here would easily overwhelm the active protection systems of every Allanean tank. As the Sariels launched, the pilots were quite confident that their stealthiness would save them, and they had secondary return bases already programmed if their main airbase was attacked by godrods.

Whyatican Unity Gun Command, Venture Island, Whyatica
"The first Unity Gun salvo appears to have done little." an operator said, as the frenzied command centre continued working.

"Focus all guns on the African theatre, wipe out their lines on the Southwest!" an officer yelled, and simultaneously, hundreds of men began typing out orders to unity gun stations all across the Empire. The orders were essentially that: Over three hundred Unity Guns would salvo into the Allanean lines, careful to avoid civilian targets, but this was enough to cause MASSIVE amounts of damage to the Allanean lines and blunt their advance for some time.

Space, Whyatican Grand Orbital Fleet
"Gentlemen, we have new orders. We are advancing over Whyatican Africa, and we're going to rip hell over every single hostile-looking satellite in the region." the Admiral of the Grand Fleet said. He looked at images of his new fleet of sixteen ships - battle-tested and proven, the fleet had survived it's conflicts largely unscathed, and a hardened unit. The first Orbital Marine regiments were in training near the Lagrange point station, which would allow the Whyatican Empire to land marines anywhere on the globe, given proper support.

The sixteen ships, as they approached Africa, opened fire on everything that appeared to be an Allanean satellite, whether it actually was or not - laser batteries, Brilliant Pebbles shells, all the anti-satellite weaponry in the Whyaticans' arsenal designed for anti-sat work. Never again would the Allaneans be able to god-rod the Whyatican forces in Africa, saving the landlubbers from a lot of grief in the future.

Sattelite Losses

10 Aries ABM satellites
20 Cyclops ABM satellites
10 Thor weapon satellites

Tank Losses

500 Nakil tanks disabled and destroyed.
600 Ashurbanipal Tanks

Losses from NPG batteries

431 various vehicles, 10,000 troops dead and a similar amount injurent,


Fighting the Whyaticans (similar tactics from all directions of attack)

It would take a while for the Allanean soldiers to cover the distance between the Allanean positions and the Whyatican ones – approximately four hours, all in all. Through this time, enormous casualties were inflicted – even despite the many precautions that were taken by the Allaneans.

Hundreds of AA batteries spoke, pelting the enemy Sariel bombers with literally dozens of thousands of missiles.

The 445th Hashi Volunteer Rifles took the harshest beating, losing 2,591 men dead and over three thousand wounded. The 40th Gush Katif Mechanized Infantry left 1,406 men dead on the field of battle. The 91st Nestor Makhno and 148th Second Book of Leviticus had lost six hundred men between them. Other divisions suffered less, but the total – before the Whyatican trenches were even reached – came out to five thousand, three hundred and forty dead and six thousand wounded.

From the naval units, a string of ten stealthy intercontinental cruise missiles – quite as stealthy as, say, a Sariel – were launched, targeting the Whyatican Unity Gun.

* * *

Lieutenant John Pelagius was among the first Allaneans to reach within twenty yards og the Whyatican trenches. He felt exhilaration, joy – and yet anger. The combat drugs in his system were beginning to make themselves felt. He was like a living, breathing machine of death, clad head to toe in Samson powered armor.

And yet, he did not lose the clarity of his mind, even as synthethic testosterone began to course through his veins. He looked at the Whyatican dugouts and grinned, speaking into his helmet’s microphone system.

“Give them hell.”

Behind him, the five SOV-06 armored vehicles fired their ATGM systems at once, guiding five octagen warheads straight into the Whyatican trench at two hundred yahrds. Seconds later, their various machineguns and gatling cannon began to howl in unison, tearing into the Whyaticans.

In the air, erupting from the loudspeakers of every Allanean vehicle on the battlefield, the music roared – almost louder then the explosion.

I don't give a damn what god you claim,
I've seen the innocent that you've slain,
On my streets you're just fair game,

Pelagius and his platoon were far closer to the enemy lines then their support vehicles – and they were the Storm Battalion of the Furious Metalheads division. They were not afraid – and they knew that at this distance, they could risk a dash towards the enemy.

Like a pig walk to your slaughter,
The heat here is so much hotter,
And my views won't teeter totter or fluctuate

An enemy soldier tried to get his head up and fire at the Allaneans – and immediately said head became a target of a 15mm gattling. Next to Lieutenant Pelagius, a young sergeant laughed maniacally as he ran, tossing an RGD-33 grenade into the trench.

Step to me you just met your fate,
And I'll annihilate,
With the skill of a Shogun assassin,
Slicing and dicing precise with a passion…[/i]

The Sturmbattlionen of the different divisions – and the entire combat complement of the Furry Airborne – were the first stage of attack.

They burst into the enemy trenches, carrying their famous ABR-8C battle carbines, their full-auto trench shotguns, their flamer, with nine-inch bayonet-knifes fixed to their weapons. Their powered armor was clean and ready for combat. Their veins plowed with designer combat drugs that suppressed pain and fear, brought anger and hatred to the surface of the soul, and yet did not go overboard and turned the soldier into a fanatic, insane killing machine.

“Cleanse! Purge! Kill!” – screamed Pelagius as the flamerboy on his left caught a group of Whyatican soldiers in the blast of his weapon.

“Cleanse! Purge! Kill!” – screamed one of his sergeants as he aimed an anti-tank weapon at the side of a Nakil 1A1 and pulled the trgger.

Overhead, shells screamed by. The Allanean artillery have moved up to a line only ten kilometers away from the Whyatican trenches, and where now shelling targets a full 140 kilometers into Whyatican territory.

“Cleanse! Purge! Kill!” – replied the troops as they entered the trench, fighting the enemy with rifle and bayonet. Now, the training these people received as high-school students would come into play. The soldiers knew point-shooting and Krav Maga, and could easily kill a man with an unloaded rifle even if the bayonet got lost. Now it was time to prove it.

“Cleanse the fascist! Purge the slaver! Kill the unholy!” – screamed Pelagius, his voice hoarse. He laughed as he saw a Whyatican lying at the bottom of the trench, half his face removed by an explosion. “Kill!”`

In this confusion the Allaneans had sent a message to General Brown:

Your struggle is pointless and without hope. We suggest that you surrender. We promise that your troops will be kept healthy until the end of the war, and then returned to Whyatica if they so wish.

OOC:We should move the Africa war to another thread.

Najaster, Iudaea (Occupied Kahanistan)

The moment Tyler had stepped foot in that apartment he'd set off a few dozen alarms; the patrols that remained inside the building were immediately alerted. By now they knew the place like the back of their hands, and with concealed wall mounted infrared tracking systems, cameras, motion sensors, and high-sensitivity microphones watching Tyler's every move, they'd be able to home in on his position with little difficulty.

By remaining inside of the apartment for as long as he did, he had more or less screwed himself over, giving the patrols time to get to him.

Dressed from head to toe in the black uniform of a Tactical Urban Response trooper, Discens Sirus Aemelianus' red-tinted visor viciously offset the darkness of his helmet and mask to give a truly sinister appearance; the Crusader's Death's Head adorned the right shoulder guard of his Lorica body armor, with the Labarum (Chi-Rho) emblazoned on his left, the acronym 'SPQD' engraved along the brow of his helm, highlighted in grey. Hanging off of the chest rig that was worn over the armored vest were numerous grenades and magazine pouches, a Pugio dagger sheathed on the upper portion of the vest, the blade facing upwards to allow for him to grab the hilt of the weapon with ease to draw it quickly. His Gladius and TDX were worn on his left and right side respectively, the TDX in a cross-draw rig.

Immediately he scanned the apartment with his visor; cycling vision modes between infrared and normal, he sought out John's heat signature. Tucking his DR-87 tightly against his shoulder he peered down the holographic sight at what his HUD was telling him was a hostile signature. Comparing various data, from Tyler's subdermal implant, to the various cameras and sensors positioned in the apartment, to Sirus' own infrared and motion tracking systems, his HUD tied all of the information together to give him a composite picture of where his prey was. He flicked on the laser of his rifle, projecting a green dot on the target.

"In the name of God and the Emperor, you are under arrest!" his voice boomed through the voice transmitter of his mask.

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

Laughter came from the Doomani side of the tunnel.

"Fuck you and your child-molesting country."

Legionaries stacked up on either side of the two entrances of the tunnel had finished setting up the charges. The plastic explosives had been embedded in the sides of the entrance, ensuring it would be a nice, clean collapse. Fitting the fuzes into the charges they backed off.

The Centurion was given the honor of setting them all off; ducking mere seconds before he toggled the detonator were the troops manning the tunnel's perimeter. The explosions were rather small, and precisely controlled: the entrances on both sides collapsed simultaneously in an almost artistic manner.

The insurgents were now completely trapped. No oxygen, no food. They'd probably suffocate before they starved...of course, the Doomani would be pleased to see the infidels resort to cannibalism or killing one another, so one could almost be certain someone was working on a way to vent air into the tunnel.

In the mean time, the Legionaries had a new victim for their sadistic cravings: the civilians that had fled the tunnel. Upon exiting they'd run right into the Legionaries on the other end of the tunnel and had immediately been arrested. By now everyone knew of the cartoon, and the men on the 'party room' side of the tunnel had a rather vague idea of what had been going on in there from the sheer volume of used condoms, and the smell of marijuana, and the rediculous amount of grain alchohol.

It was immediately decided that all of them would be punished the same way and for the same crime: sodomy. The Doomani had a particularly disturbing way of punishing this particular moral offense, as the poor civilians were about to discover...

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

Caves

What the fuck... Sidonius thought to himself as a figure appeared from seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed his squad leader from behind, putting a knife to his throat.

Sidonius was several meters behind; from what he could immediately tell the infidel didn't see him or the rest of them, and appeared to be trying to interrogate Sidonius, who was chuckling aloud as the heathen barked quietly into his ear in English. Sidonius quietly moved up towards the two; Retenus was doing a fine job of distracting the bastard, who seemed to be somewhat dazed as it was.

"You dumb motherfucker," Retenus whispered to the man in Latin, "You should've slit my fucking throat when you had the chance,"

As he spoke, Sidonius silently flipped his rifle around, sharply lashing out at the infidel and delivering a sharp blow with the butt of the weapon to the back of the 'insurgent's' head. The man crumpled to the floor instantaneously, Retenus snatching the man's knife in midair as it came out of his hands. The squad quickly moved up, forming a perimeter around them as Sidonius secured the downed enemy, zipcuffing his unconcious victim before checking him over. He was in very bad shape.

Retenus, meanwhile, twirled his brand new suvenier knife around in his hand expertly, flipping it about his fingers while studying it.

"Motherfucker's a Groznian," he said aloud.

Puzzled, Sidonius turned away from his 'patient'.

"Really?" replied the younger man.

Flipping the blade around once more, Retenus handed him the weapon hilt first.

"Look for yourself."

Sidonius looked it over. It was one of those fancy Chechen knife things...he forgot the name.

"Intel's gonna want to have a nice chat with this fellow," Retenus nodded to the lifeless body.

He spoke into his com link,

"Scorpion Actual, this is Scorpion Three...we've got a live one, requesting immediate evac..."

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

The Sanguinarium

The torturer could tell the girl was lying; he was trained to detect lies, like any other good interrogator. His own instincts were supplemented by the various lie detection equipment Kathryn was hooked up to: retinal monitors, heart monitors, perspiration monitors, among other things.

He did not even respond to her. Touching the ignited blowtorch to a fire poker, the poker quickly turned red hot. His facial expression did not change as he twirled the girl around, who was hanging upside down from a pair of meathooks on the cieling, so that her back was to him. He touched the red hot iron to the center of her back for several seconds; the flesh smoked and the sound of sizzling human flesh filled the torture chamber. Taking the iron off of her back, the smell of charred skin filled the nostrils of the torturer: the area he'd placed the iron was thoroughly burned.

"Who is your team leader?" he asked again in monotone, pulling her downwards by the hair so that the meathooks would tear even further into her calves.

Out of the shadows Murat observed the first man walk past. Body braced and kava ready he poised to strike. He waited for the second man to place himself directly in front of him, an unwitting offering of prey..

The second walked past, focused ahead. Murat made his move.

Pushing off the broken Dragunov Murat closed the distance to his target in a fraction of a second and before his victim had any idea what had happened he had a 12" long blade digging precariously into his neck. Murat did his best to hide his weakened state from his victim.

Hold it right there.. he spoke in a hoarse angry whisper.

Fighting the growing numbness in his hands he pressed his kava a little too hard and bled the Doomani's neck ever so slightly.

He was about to speak again when his victim began to chuckle.

The Wolf had made a grave mistake.

Najaster

The urge to breathe is triggered by high carbon dioxide levels in the body, such as those triggered by rebreathing the CO2 that one has just exhaled into an airtight space... like a tunnel just collapsed by vicious fanatical thugs from the closest approximation to Hell on earth.

There were only four resistance fighters left alive in the tunnel. Laila had bled out from her wounds, three others were killed in the explosion, and a fifth had suffered mortal injuries from having his leg crushed and lost too much blood.

They would spend their last minutes or so smoking (to calm their nerves and lungs), praying, and praising whatever god they worshipped that they had eluded the more painful deaths the Doomani undoubtedly wished upon them. They unanimously decided not to risk escape and a far worse death.

To honor their fallen commander, they dragged her body to the center of the ruins, and folded her arms in the death pose.

---

District 17

It is a well-known fact that polygraphs, and by extension, any devices intended to elicit truth by bodily reaction, are not 100% accurate. When a victim is under stress, such as from torture, they are even less accurate. However, this did not mean that the Doomani interrogator's thought that Kathryn was shielding her captain was incorrect. In fact, he was right on the ball.

Interrogations of the infiltration squad had yielded the roles of some of the infiltrators, and an analysis of the information meant that there were only two serious possibilities for the identity of the infiltration commander: Anna Howell, who had just come back in a state of confusion... or Alicia Neil.

"I just told you," said Kathryn, crying. The nerves in the area of where the iron had burned into her had mostly been killed by the heat along with the skin, so another application there would not cause pain. However, she was still sensitive in other areas... and her redoubled resistance might crumble...

John turned around to see a Doomani soldier, that was the last thing he needed to see. He had heard the stories about Doomani torture, and thought they were jokes or just myths. Though some of the other agent took them to heart. John put his hands on his head, and got to the his knee. As he got down, he could feel the Beretta against his skin. "Sorry it must have been a misunderstanding. I was just trying to find someone, and there was no one at the front desk."

OOC: Whyatica, do you have stats for your ships posted somewhere?

OOC: Doom, if you want to start another thread, do so. I am still waiting for you to post about the things you said you would post.

Whyatican Southern Defence Line
"Steady, men!" a sergeant yelled as he drew his sharpened spade, slashing across the neck of an Allanean man as he jumped down into the trench. His powered armour did little to help him as the sharpened spade penetrated through his neck, ripping his head off. The sergeant picked the head up and hurled it out of the trench as a warning to any Allanean attempting to enter the trenches, and as another man dropped he slashed and hacked with his spade, killing that man. Blood sprayed over his uniform as he let out a roar, and the bloodbath began. Machine-gun nests continued to send waves of fire across the land, dropping Allanean soldiers left and right as they bum-rushed the trenches.

The overwhelming numbers of Allanean men could not be matched by the skill and bravery of the Whyatican fighting man, but the advance into Whyatican territory would be exceptionally painful for the Allanean Army. Already the casualties had mounted to absurd levels before the enemy had even reached the lines, while Whyatican casualties were less than a tenth of what the enemy had received. Thousands of Allaneans poured into the trenches, meeting their counterparts of the Whyatican Empire, locking into close combat, where Whyaticans were close-to-unmatched. Only Doomani fighting men could claim to be better than the Whyatican fighting man at swordplay and close combat, and even then..

The anti-tank guided missiles slammed into the trenches, causing a trench section to partially collapse, burying a man. The pile of dirt was then promptly used as partial cover against Allaneans entering the trench, as a counter-salvo was fired from the second line, thirty more anti-tank guided missiles finding their way to the Allanean vehicles. A retreating Arca IV Nakíl main battle tank, it's gun turret pointing at the Allaneans, fired two rounds as rapidly as possible - an initial canister shot for the infantry, and an APFSDS round against the first Allanean vehicle it found before it began a full retreat. The full force of the Whyatican Army in this area had not yet been brought to bear against the Allaneans; full force had yet to be mobilized, and , provided the Whyaticans did not get encircled, could hold out indefinetly.

Whyatican casualties steadily mounted as the battle for the trenches continued, although the death count was still largely in the favour of the Whyaticans because the Allaneans largely had no concept of tactics beyond 'Throwing more men at the enemy than they had ammunition.'

The Whyatican orbital fleet was bolstered as the IWSS Huntingdon launched it's gun drones around the fleet, and Whyatican gun, spy, and missile satellites moved over the African battlefield. In this process, imaging captured the ICCMs and sent targetting telemetry down to the anti-air batteries, which very promptly dispatched the ICCMs en route, long before they could ever threaten the Unity Guns, which themselves were protected by a massive battery of anti-air defences, it's own airfield, and an army base. The men at the Unity Gun base largely ignored the oncoming missiles as they were dispatched by border anti-air bases, focusing all of their attention on pouring ever-increasing fire on the Allanean lines.

A single message was broadcasted throughout the lines, on a frequency both Allaneans and Whyaticans would understand,

"We will never surrender."

In the trenches

So far, five thousand more Allanean troops were dead, and an equivalent amount were injured – they were too professional to merely bum-rush the trenches in huge amounts, rather using age-old techniques of trench-attack and infiltration, moving in short bursts of motion, using cover as best as they could, coordinating their fire with that of squadmates. They were professional, they wore better armor, and they felt no pain due to combat drugs – and, not less importantly, they knew there were simply more of them then there were Whyaticans.. In the rear, about two thousand troops were lost to the Unity Guns, and yet the attack pressed on.

Separate Thread for the African War, includes the attack Doom spoke to me about on IRC. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=526888)

OOC: I know there's a separate war thread, but this has much more bearing on Kahanistan then it has on the war. Also telegram for Kahanistan.

IC:
Somewhere over the Red Sea

The Whyatican fleet was concentrated near the Eritrean shore. As such, room remained for Allaneans to pull off a most amazing maneuver – one that neither the Whyaticans nor the Doomani would expect.

They sent in a flight of 25 E/B-117A Coldun (http://z6.invisionfree.com/International_Mall/index.php?showtopic=2281) – stealthy bombers, designed by the Soviet Bloc specifically to penetrate highly-sophisticated, high-quality, high-density air-defenses such as those of Doomingsland. The aircraft flew out over the Sudan, and then over the Red Sea at a low altitude. It was over the sea surface that their optical active camouflage was the most effective, and at their low altitude they also flew below the range of most RADAR – notwithstanding their own, advanced anti-RADAR equipment, quite to par, if not better, to that of the Sariels.

Once arriving over the Negev Desert, they fanned out, flying to the largest ghettoes. Every bomber carried five tons of small diameter guided penetrators – those would be dropped at various locations at the Ghetto walls.

More importanty, each bomber would carry 21 tons of special packages – each contained an assault rifle in a caliber similar to that used by the Doomani forces and a magazine full of ammunition, a loaded pistol, a case of grenades, or an anti-tank weapon, packaged so it would not be harmed by a fall – and a ton of rice paper leaflets.

Printed on the leaflets was a map of Africa and the latest strategic developments therein, the advancements of the Allanean forces and their allies, and the simple message:

Valiant Ghetto fighters! Know now that Allanea, the Land of the Free, supports you in your hour of need! Raise those rifles we give you, use the grenades and launchers! Kill the Doomani soldiers, burn their tanks, blow up their patrol vehicles! Fight like Matityahu, like Anilevich, like Samson! Cleanse the fascist! Kill the slaver! Destroy the Invader! For justice, for freedom, for the Holy Land! Let no Doomani survive!

Fox Jameson came out of the small basement where GLOBAL met every Sunday at seven P.M., right before the Doomani curfew went into effect. As the young man walked home, he saw something unusual laying on the ground. It looked to be a Kalashnikov assault rifle, although rechambered to fire the 6.7x53mm DDI cartridge of the Imperial Doomani Army.

He had heard of the recent death in battle of Laila al-Majani, author of the inflammatory Virgin Mary cartoons which had provoked a furor and even been controversial among the insurgents themselves. He had planned to lay a wreath at the warehouse where she had fallen, now that the ghetto wall separating that battlefield from his ghetto was down in fourteen different places.

Fox picked up the rifle and read the writing on it. Being a Catholic moderate and not Jewish, he of course knew who Samson was, but not the other two. He assumed Anilevich was a misspelling for Anielewicz, but didn't think much of it as he reread the Allanean leaflet before sliding it into his pocket.

Fox climbed to the top of his apartment, as he had done countless times before the occupation, as he loved to BASE jump. He shouted to the people below, reading the Allanean leaflet. He cared not for what would happen to him, but he wanted to inspire a popular revolt.

"Citizens of Kahanistan!" he roared. "For too long have we been treated as little more than prisoners in our own homes! For too long have the Doomani invaded our privacy, without even the faintest pretext that they are doing so in the name of national security! For too long have we been herded like cattle to the slaughter!"

"The Sanguinarium is the implement by which the Doomani maintain their tenuous hold on power. If we destroy this temple of death, terror, and oppression, the hold of the Empire over our people will be broken! Therefore, I call on everyone who can fire a weapon to join me, and raze this evil structure to the ground!"

The citizens gathered outside as they heard him call, as most of them were sympathetic to the resistance. Many of them had leaflets and weapons of their own. They cheered the young man's call for resistance, and would have fired into the air had ammunition not been so scarce.

It was clear that, eventually, the Doomani would come up with a counter to the hyperstealth bomber – after all, there must be a counter to the Sariels, even if the Allanean counter to it was not very reliable at all. As such, the Allaneans decided t they had to act quickly. Now, the combined force of penetrator-bombers was launched – equipped with a new payload – not a single bomb was in it.

Now 2700 more tons of equipment were dropped – again, assault rifles capable of firing the standard Doomani cartridge, and lots of Doomani-standard ammunition. There was less of it then there could have been, because it was packaged in shock-proof foam to protect it from falls.

And, of course, there were more rice-paper leaflets.

Glorious Kahanistani fighters!

Take your families and children out of the ghettoes – reduced concentration makes it harder to genocide you. Attack the Doomani air defense stations, kill their officers, burn their tanks, destroy their infrastructure. Remember – every day you live on, every Doomani you kill – and the liberating coalition forces press nearer to Judaea! Every Doomani convoy you destroy means less shells, less bullets, less men for the front.

Remember - it takes 20 occupier soldiers for every dedicated guerilla fighter to maintain control. For every one of you that rises up in arms, 20 Doomani soldiers are needed to quell liberty. They can come from one place only, and that's the front – the battlefront in Egypt, or the one in Doomingsland proper, where the forces of our Freekish allies push closer with every day to the black heart of the Imperium Doomanum.

Kill them! Kill, kill, kill, know no mercy, blow up their railways, kill their officials, burn their homes, destroy all that is Doomani! No surrender! No compromise! No mercy!

Forward, glorious allies! For our freedom and yours! Death to the occupier!

The resistance on the ground was now feeling quite confident. Armed with the Allanean arms and filled with Allanean ideas, fighters of all races, creeds, and colors swarmed the Doomani forces at the ghetto walls in a furious bid to storm the Sanguinarium in the fashion of the attack on the Bastille, 218 years prior.

"Viva la revolution!" they roared as they charged the Doomani positions, supported by sniper and anti-armor units as well as the odd captured vehicle, engaging the crews monitoring the sewers.

Supporting the rebels were thousands of green recruits, inspired by the leaflets and weapon drops but until now lacking the courage to fight, arming themselves with these in addition to the handmade weapons of the resistance.

At the same time, one established rebel division, under the command of General Igor Kaselev, commander of the military stay-behind operation and head of the resistance, attacked Doomani guard towers with rockets and snipers, urging the population to flee the city and spread as wide as possible once outside.

A dispersed population is that much harder to stop. Five men is a juicy opportunity. One man's a waste of ammo.

Not aware of the poor relations between Transylvania and Doomingsland, Kaselev urged the populace to flee to Groznyj, or Whyatican Arabia.

"And when the LORD thy God shall deliver them before thee; thou shalt smite them, and utterly destroy them; thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor show mercy unto them."

-Deuteronomy 7:1

Legatus' Fortress, Najaster

The City of Najaster was burning in the night. Despite the Allaneans horrendously underestimating the effeciency of the Imperial air defense network (in fact the optical camoflage system utilized by the Allanean bombers had been co-designed by Imperial Aerospace, and so the Doomani already had systems in place to take advantage of the gaping weakness in that particular system), several of the bombers still slipped through and delivered their payload, although chances were they would not escape. Despite all of this, the damage had been done. A full-scale rebellion had been incited. Everything the Doomani had worked for in the past year of occupation was now in vain.

"They have declared themselves enemies of the Imperium and the Lord. They have tossed away their own salvation at the whims of the Allanean infidel. Thus, they shall all burn for their sins, in a glorious hellfire that shall consume this decadent city," Legatus Legionis Felix Valerius Brutus, commander of Legio VIII 'Iudaea' boomed.

He was turned towards the window of the command room, which sat on the upper level of a brand new fortress complex the Doomani had built. The room was carved of black marble; the table at which his command staff was seated built of strong, highly-polished oak. All were clad in their dress uniforms, their swords hanging at their sides. The room was dimly lit, digital displays along the top of the table giving off the majority of the ambient light.

Swiveling around in his chair, he revealed himself. Any sane man looking upon that face would have shit himself at the very sight. Half the man's face had been utterly destroyed during the Czardaian Crusade by a white phosphorous grenade, the other half horribly burned. He more closely resembled a monster than a man. What was left of his face was what seemed to be a haphazardly bolted-on metal shell forming left half of his face; an ornate cross was carved into the titanium carapace. On the right half of his face, puss oozed from beneath his right eye; the flesh had been melted to the skull, with the titanium shell seeming to pass beneath it. A red light sinisterly emanated from his artificial left eye. His lower jaw was also replaced with a steel mechanism; the teeth seemed to have been sharpened.

"Burn the heretic. Cleanse the heathen. Kill the unbeliever," he growled, a shadow cast across his scarred, mutilated face,

"Leave none alive. Leave no building standing, leave no stone unturned. Take no slaves, take no loot. For these infidels there shall be no mercy. They have alienated themselves in the eyes of the Lord. Initiate Ban Protocol. We're done with this cesspool."

Ban Protocol. A doctrine used by the Imperial Army against only the most hated of unbelievers; in the Book of Deuteronomy, God commanded the Israelites to wage a war of extermination against the unbaptized in the Holy Land. When a city was conquered, nothing was to be left alive. Every man, woman, child, and animal was to be slaughtered, every building was to be razed to the ground, and everything else was to be simply annihilated.

This night, the rebels had unwittingly signed not only their own death warrants, but those of their families, friends, and everything else they held dear.

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Air Defense

The Allaneans had gone undetected up until they came over the horizon on the Red Sea coast; it was at that time that every LIDAR and LADAR sensor on the coast would have picked them up, along with SWIR-based electro-optical which would have been able to see through the optical camouflage. It was true that this was not enough data to give the surface-to-air missiles a good firing solution on the incoming aircraft, but for the highly-trained anti-aircraft gunners manning 105mm and 37mm weapons, it was all they needed.

It seemed as if the entire coast was set ablaze as the guns opened fire: twin rapid-fire 105mm guns, quad 37mm auto cannons, 23mm and 15.7mm machineguns filled the air with blue tracers, creating a brilliant display amidst the night sky. AHEAD and air bursting high explosive rounds were used extensively, although in this case the gunners were relying more on direct hits to simply blow the enemy aircraft apart. Of course, even a grazing hit from a piece of shrapnel would compromise the enemy aircrafts’ RADAR cross section, making them easy targets for the thousands of surface to air missiles the Doomani had in waiting.

The gunners were relying mostly on their own skill in this case, although their LIDAR and LADAR equipment helped greatly in spotting their targets and calculating the speed and course of the enemy fighters. Combat air patrols in the area were immediately vectored in on the targets; they would deal with their opponents primarily with their cannons, relying on IRST to spot their targets.

The speed of the enemy aircraft would also come into play: coming in at subsonic speed would keep their infrared signatures low, but it would also make them easy targets for the gunners on the ground. Going supersonic would ensure the gunners had minimal time to kill them, but would light them up for the SAMs and fighters to engage more easily.

Despite all of this, some of the fighters inevitably slipped through, delivering their payloads and inciting the revolt. The second wave of fighters, however, would run into a highly alert air defense network that had a good idea of what they were up against. Their chances of reaching the cities were extremely low considering that they had lost the element of surprise, their chances of escape even lower.

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Najaster, Iudaea (Occupied Kahanistan)

The hour the Legionaries had been waiting for over a year for had finally arrived. Standing orders were that any open revolt was to be responded with through full-scale extermination. As the men closest to the action throughout the occupation, their hatred for the Kahanistanis as a people was second to none. They wanted very badly to kill every last one of them in the most gruesome fashion possible, and they now had that opportunity. No more restrictions on their actions. They were clear to kill them all.

The first to open fire on the rebels in the streets were not the men manning the walls, surprisingly; instead, it was the snipers, who sat hundreds, sometimes thousands, of meters away in distant skyscrapers, which gave them a commanding view of the ghettos, while giving their foe virtually no way of shooting back. As insurgents took to the open streets to retrieve the weapons that had been dropped, their heads would mysteriously begin to be blown apart by 8.8mm rounds.

Machineguns and grenade machineguns along the tops of the walls opened up milliseconds after, spraying into the crowds of rebels and bystanders alike.

The DMG-85 machinegun was a weapon that was generally despised by the insurgency for one major reason: it simply spat the lead out at an obscene rate. Based on the action of the MG-42, it was capable of putting out twelve hundred 7.8x63mm rounds per minute, allowing for it to completely shred through its targets. In the hands of a highly trained Legionary, it was an absolutely devastating weapon.

This, coupled with the marksmanship of the riflemen along the tops of the wall, gave the Imperial Army a good head start on the enemy while it consolidated.

Large holes had been blown in the walls by Allanean bombs; these gaps were immediately covered by infantry units on the other side of the wall, with tanks and IFVs rolling into place to turn it into a chokepoint in a matter of minutes. Rather than rolling right into the gap, they sat back, allowing for rebel troops to go into the gap. Once there, they were easy pickings for Doomani armor and infantry units, whose perimeter blocked off every avenue of escape from the gaps.

Of course, the sheer number of enemy troops meant that the walls were only a temporary defense; the Imperial contingency plan in the event of a full scale revolt called for the walls to be held only as long as they could be manned. The real battle would begin beyond their confines.

Outside the walls of each ghetto, there was a five hundred yard zone where every building had been leveled. It was completely open; no rubble, no cover, nothing but nice, flat pavement. Imperial troops were firmly entrenched in the buildings on the other side of the kill zone. As the rebels’ numbers swelled, a fallback action was made by those manning the walls. One by one, covered by their own machineguns, they fell back from the walls, dashing across the kill zone to the safety of the buildings and bunkers on the other side.

The last to abandon the position were the machine gunners; their mission was one that was suicidal, and they had accepted this. They would all most likely die, but this did not matter to them. Heaven awaited those that fell in God’s service.

Meanwhile, the killing blow was being brought to bear. At all times there was a flight of Acredula medium bombers above Najaster. Their payload: incendiaries. This gave Imperial commanders the option of totally eradicating entire ghettos on a whim. This option was now going to be used…extensively.

An individual Acredula flying over Najaster had a total of sixteen 1,000lb napalm canisters hanging under its wings, allowing for a single bomber to totally burn out a ghetto by itself. There were only about two hundred ghettos in Najaster, each holding less than a thousand people. Their total area meant that the combined payload of a single bomber was overkill. Of course, that was one thing the Doomani were known for: overkill.

Less than five minutes after Brutus had issued the Ban Protocol, the bombers were unleashing their payloads over their targets. The resulting conflagration would have been enough to simply vaporize everyone caught within the ghetto, along with anyone still on top of the walls; the buildings would collapse shortly thereafter as a result of having their interiors gutted by the flames.

The battles in the sewers were extremely fierce, however. The Legionaries held their ground admirably; their outposts were extremely well fortified, consisting of concrete walls up to a foot thick backed by sandbags, with firing ports for their machineguns and shotguns embedded in the walls. These firing ports had steel grating which, while allowing for them to see through and fire their weapons out of, would prevent the insurgents from lobbing grenades through.

The sewer units also had fallback positions in the event the insurgents managed to breech their walls, allowing for them to retreat to a similarly fortified location and continue to delay the enemy. However, the rebels would be hard-pressed to get by the outposts they initially encountered. They had nothing to hide behind, and the distances they were engaging from were extremely close (30 yards at the very furthest). With narrow corridors to engage the enemy in, the machinegunners would be able to dominate the battlefield below. On top of this, Imperial riflemen equipped with auto shotguns had now begun to employ FRAG-12 ammunition, a high explosive twelve gauge slug capable of blowing a man’s torso apart.
Not only does it completely annihilate one’s opponent, it also severely demoralizes his buddies. However, this paled in comparison to the worst the rebels were up against below: the outposts were equipped with flamethrowers, and the Doomani had their own oxygen tanks to breathe out of. They had never used this tactic in the sewers before, for they had been saving it for just this occasion, ensuring that the insurgents would have nothing to counter it with.

Capable of squirting a jet of napalm up to fifty yards, the Doomani flamethrowers were fired out of the ports in the outpost walls. The resulting jet of fire completely sucked the oxygen from the tunnel, and the flame tended to consume everything on the rebel side. To make matters worse, any rebel hoping to dive into the water to escape the flames would have two options: drown, or surface. Surfacing in that water was suicidal, as the napalm was floating on the surface and burning, meaning that anyone that went above the water would be incinerated.

The Ban had been enacted. The Doomani would leave nothing alive within the confines of the city...

Above the Sudan

The Allaneans pretty much expected their aircraft to get slaughtered by the Doomani weaponry. But they also knew that they would light a dangerous spark indeed, and from that spark, in Lenin's immortal words, a flame would rise and consume the Doomani

But perhaps – likely so – that flame needed a little help. From the 4th Haven Domination Fleet, the Allaneans summoned 2,000 of the late-model SuF-7 Nightmare aircraft, 1000 ancient F/A-18s, and a large amount of other aircraft as donated by Vetalia and Haraki. Pilots were not a problem – every Allanean aircraft carrier maintains three pilots per plane for the obvious reasons.

They, and 500 G4M7's supporting them, had only one mission – to attack air defense positions in the Sinai and Judaea at stand-off ranges.

The attack was near-suicidal, even with the use of dozens of air-dropped decoys and long-range missiles that could target enemy positions from outside AA range, and even with the fact that G4M7's carry their own CIWS, many would indeed be lost. Perhaps even all would die.

That didn't matter. There was a reason this was called a diversion after all.

Simultaneously with that, a truly enormous fleet of aircraft was making it's way from Allanea.

It was unprecedented in size, incomparable to anything used in this was before.

Visualize ten thousand fighters, strike fighters, air superiority fighters, flying in straight from Allanea, pausing only for several hours to refuel from carriers or from waypoints throughout Africa. Of those, only four thousand are outdated F/A-18's – the others are more modern fighters made by SUDI and Kriegzimmer. On the other hand, the SUDI Strikecat aircraft are not used at all – they remain in Africa.

The pilots are grim with determination. Their veins flow not only with enhancement drugs that keep them awake and ready for combat, but also with hatred towards the Doomani.

Mighty Allanean warriors! Know not fear! Know not retreat! Know not mercy! Let no Doomani fascist survive!

Visualize these fighter carrying long-range air-to-air and HARM missiles to target air defense positions and enemy aircraft. Further, they deploy decoys – again, to an observer by RADAR it would be problematic to figure out which of the thousands of blips are actual aircraft, and which ones are fake signals.

They charge over Aqaba, raining down death and destruction upon the enemy air defense positions.

Minutes later, the real bulk of the Air Force arrives. It is composed of 75 S-1000 bombers, flying at Mach 3 over the range of most AA guns, their CIWS lasers protecting them from missile fire. These aircraft drop out bombs upon the air defenses of the enemy – except for one group of five bombers. It carries Falling Hammer munitions. Minutes later, the 100-ton self-defending bombs dive out towards the Legatus' fortress.

And yet, this is not everything.

Five hundred G4M7's and 50 Ank'riat bombers, escorted by an equal amount of ancient F/A-18's, make their way to Doomani Tel-Aviv. Within minutes, the bombing begins – 21,000 tons of bombs and incendiaries, a payload far exceeding anything that Dresden has been exposed to, are delivered to the city. There are MK-85 general purpose bombs, and tiny 4-pound incendiary sticks by the thousand, and other bombs of many different types, all designed to do one thing – to ignite, blow up, and flatten as many homes with Doomani in them as possible.

And yet, this is not all.

The final wave of the Allanean assault is 1,200 cargo aircraft, passing just over the coast and into the Negev. Yes, many of them would be shot down. That's basically a given by now. But given that the air defenses of Doomingsland are likely a bit weakened by the bombings and other attacks, and a bit distracted to say the least, it is clear why Allaneans expect that at least a decent proportion of these aircraft would make it into the Holy Land.

And then, their cargo hatches begin to open.

Between them, they carry 10,000 Praetonian Regus airdroppable tanks and 100,000 Boy Scouts equipped with simple dune buggies. Those who would still remember the Allaneans hiring lots of Ugandans at the beginning of the conflict, would now recognize the strange, light, and incredibly fast tubular constructs.

Soon enough, the Negev Desert becomes a scene of a deranged, oversized, monstrous airborne infantry and landing.

Once they land, the troops begin making their way to attack AA emplacements throughout Southern Judea. In small teams of tanks and dune buggies, they orchestrate series of hit-and-attacks everywhere – a dune buggy can cross the Negev in about three or four hours, and a team of them, equipped with ATGMs, is an incredible destructive force. A tank platoon is slower – but also an incredible pain in the rear.

Only a small group is used differently – if you count a quarter of the deployed tank force as 'small'.

These tanks are sent to attack the Sanguinarium directly. Also, about a quarter of the force remains near Eilat, spread out along the length of the shore.

Forward, Freemen!
Cleanse the Fascist!
Purge the Theocrat!
Kill the Inquisitor!
Let none survive!

The populace was filled with rage, months of anger that had silently built up until now that it was blowing its top like Mount Vesuvius. Effectively inured to terror due to the brutal practices of the Empire, disorganized mobs stormed out across the kill zones, urged by rebel officers to spread to a concentration that could not be effectively suppressed.

In the sewers, rebels aimed for the oxygen tanks of the Doomani soldiers, knowing that it would either stop the flow of the napalm, or turn their fanatical foes into suicide bombers. They died in large numbers, many by surfacing in the napalm for air, others by inhaling sewage when they tried to move to a place where it did not burn above them. Either way, it was a gruesome death that inspired those who saw it to get as far from these evil Doomani as they could to avoid a similar fate, enraging their comrades and impressing them with the depravity of the Doomani people.

The insurgents knew that they couldn't stay in the buildings and burn, or stay outside under the sniper fire. Their response was overwhelmingly to flee through the sewers, and to flee out through whatever thick pipes had not enough water to drown them that could take them as far from the Apocalypse as possible.

In the other cities of the Negev, the situation repeated itself. In Al-Bahr, the coastal town that had once formed the breadbasket of the Republic Navy, people hunted for Doomani patrol boats, hoping to capture them and herd their families away from perdition at the hands of their most hated foes. They knew now that the Allaneans had come to save them, but at this point were not about to wait for their salvation to come from above; the Allaneans would not be able to help those who had burned to death or huffed Pestis Dei. Their lives were in their own hands now.

OOC: Can’t make a detailed post because of how hot it is here now. 30 celsius, 2 AM. But get onto MSN and talk to me.

IC:

The Allanean air force took immense casualties – literally thousands of aircraft were wiped out, and the G4M7 armada ceased to exist. While the cargo aircraft were not affected as much as the G4M7, still only a part of the airborne – about 25,000 troops and 3,000 tanks – was landed safely. Some were shot down, and some aircraft turned back as the mission was aborted due to heavy Doomani fire.

And then the ceasefire came.

Immediately, the paras isolated themselves from the Doomani at such a distance as to be obviously no threat. They now began to wait as 40 Ouroboros planes and 500 Archimedes lever aircraft began making their way to the Negev. The Ouroborii landed on the water near Eilat, the other aircraft – near Najaster.

Before they landed, they dropped out thousand of leaflets on rice paper, with a single message:

A DEAL HAS BEEN REACHED TO FREE ALL KAHANISTANI WITHOUT VIOLENCE. ANY ADDITIONAL FIGHTING ONLY ENDANGERS YOU. STOP.

ooc: why? meh cuz I felt like it....

News of the current events were received on the border continuously. For the most part soldiers on the southern border of Groznyj knew what was going on in Doomingsland before any of the big news agencies had any idea. Rumors were coming in that the Doomani were getting fed up with the Kahanistanis, their 'captive' population.

Near a ravine in one of the few forested areas of the souther border soldiers passed time drilling and playing cards next to their camouflaged M109's. Men were on strict orders not to exchange any words with their Doomani counterparts along the border; neither side appeared to be very fond of the other. These Doomani were a new force on the block and most if not all soldiers had barely been taught about them durring their classes in training. However they had been briefed and given a short background on their foes-to-be.

Next to the M109, under the shade of the trees several soldiers smoked and played a game of cards. The running of a stream could be heard in the distance. Birds squacked and trees rustled in the evening breeze.

"So. How long before start shelling these bastards?" said one soldier holding a King and a few other promising cards.

One man took a cigar out of his mouth and spoke, "I hear tell, we're on the verge of invading these pigs. We go to war we're gonna wipe the floor with them-"

"Your damn right we are," replied the first, "what you got?" said the rifleman feeling confident.

"Here"
"There"
"Here"

A chorus of sighs and moans went up as the second soldier wiped the floor with all of them.

"You know what," spoke again the first soldier, pulling out a protein bar and ripping it open, "The Alleneans are practically right over Najaster? Shit they've gone all through Africa and we're stuck here gaurding a border against some fuckhea-"

He was cut short and the group turned their attention to their commanding officer going ballistic on two of the new recruits. They were both drunk.

"You have to be Fucking Out of Your Fucking Mind!! You stupid half-assed peices of dogshit!" He hit one man in the forehead with the butt of his rifle. Not exactly protocal but the occasion warranted it.

"Good lord.. shit you are both assigned to shit duty for the next damn month.." by shit duty he wasn't just referring to looking after the 'bowels' of the camp but also clean up, dish washing, and any and all other dirty but necessary jobs of military life.

Another sergeant appeared and joined in the yelling. They eventually left with the two now sober soldiers.

"What the hell was that?" said one soldier amid the laughter of others. At that moment a fellow brother in arms appeared answering what was on everyone's mind.

"You won't beleive this.." he continued to tell the group the story and managed to finish it just as they all reported to their posts. Apparently the two 'newbies' in the outfit managed to find some alcohol and decided to antagonize the men on the other side. They took the Groznian flag and waving it began shouting various patriotic slogans as well as a slurry of derogatory comments against he Doomani. Had it not been for the severe tension of the times this wouldn't have been such a bad thing but now.. if any man on either side so much as stepped forward in the wrong place he was liable to be filled with led by his counterparts.

Another day in the lives of border guards...

...Beginning 2VX Encryption...

Official Imperial Communique:
To: Emperor Maximus
From: Chancellor Licinius

How goes the occupation of Kahanistan? We've recently realized that Kahanistan was the nation not too long ago that tried to egg us into war and was allegedly making plans to invade our nation. With this realization, along with the fact that you are occupying them, we would like to give you assistance in your occupation. Additionally, the recent actions and words of Generia seem to imply that forces may be preparing to liberate Kahanistan, this we can not tolerate. If you feel you need them, or will accept them, we'd like to send some forces to assist in your occupation along with some naval assets to stop peoples from attempting to aid the insurgents.

End Transmission

...Ending 2VX Encryption...

The fleeing civilians who saw the Allanean transport planes and heard the message immediately swarmed them en masse. They pushed, shoved, and in some cases even shot or stabbed each other for spots on the plane.

Not even the Allaneans were safe. If they did not get out of the way, they risked being thrown out of the planes and trampled by fleeing, desperate refugees, eager for a flight out of this war-torn land.

However, not all citizens fled. Die-hard religious fanatics stayed behind, intent on recovering Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel)... or driving the "infidels" out of "Dar al-Islam"... or bringing the true teachings of Jesus to His homeland, depending on which breed of fanatic they were. Some of these people had been born fanatics, others had fallen in with religious lunatics of various stripes during the social upheaval (which tends to breed religious fervor) surrounding the occupation. They had not let the Doomani take this land, and they certainly were not about to surrender their G-d/Jesus/Allah-given land on the word of some pushy foreigner.

In the chaos, numerous barrels of chemical agents that had been buried in the Valens Line, the old barrier surrounding the capital and protecting it from the Doomani, were hunted down by numerous members of these fanatical sects.

However, the vast majority of those who were able to flee did so; no more than 100,000 people out of 2.4 million known survivors chose to remain. These people who remained behind of their own free will were the most fanatical people of their respective religions; many as fanatical in their own way as the Doomani were. There were also now more weapons to go around for those who remained...

“Calm! There will be calm here!”

The light tanks and Boy Scouts went into action, slowly pushing the stampeding Kahanistanis away.

“There is enough place for you on these planes – in fact, enough place for double this amount of people! You will remain calm or else…”

But it was no use.

The Kahanistanis simply stampeded into the aircraft. It took hours and hours for them to load.

And then, eventually, all took off. Nothing was left except those that chose to fight on. The Allaneans respected these men – and in some cases even ‘forgot’ crates of ammunition on the landing zones. But they could do nothing more then to rescue those who chose to be rescued.

Then the message was sent to the Doomani:

“Very well. Once the planes arrive in Kahanistan and the survivors are counted, we will pay you 5000 dollars per survivor."

Najaster, Iudaea

Ban Protocol had already been initialized in Najaster. While civilians who ceased their attacks in the other city would be loaded onto truck in an orderly manner and shipped to the Allaneans, this would not be the case in Najaster. Everything was to be killed.

All along the lines, the machineguns continued to rattle without any signs of stopping. The Kahanistanis would not be allowed to advance very far at all; for those living in Najaster, there was no way out. They were totally surrounded by the Doomani, who had no qualms about killing indescriminately. In fact, they rather enjoyed that particular activity. Autocannons and machineguns continued to rake the mobs; when they tried to thin their ranks, the riflemen simply took up the slack, taking them out one by one in rapid succession.

For rebels, there was nowhere to run: if they retreated, they’d have only burning buildings to hide in. If they advanced, they would run straight into a wall of lead and high explosive put out by the Legionaries.

Within the sewers, the rebels were faring even worse. Because the Doomani were firmly entrenched, the rebels could not get a clean shot at the oxygen tanks of the Legionaries, let alone even know they were wearing oxygen tanks. Thus, the deadly stream of napalm continued, depriving all of precious air.

Those that moved into the pipes were quickly detected by the subdermal implants that remained embedded in their skulls. In response, the Doomani flooded all of the pipes in order to drown out anyone who may have fled there.

The scene differed slightly in other cities. The Doomani would not stand for disorder; when the mobs initially tried to run from their ghettos to the waiting planes (whose locations they technically would not know), they were simply mowed down by the machineguns. Imperial officers on loudspeakers instructed civilians to assemble in various areas where they would be picked up by trucks and hauled out to the landing zones where the Allaneans would pick them up.

However, the Doomani were not content to let those who had taken up arms against them go free. With cameras almost everywhere and an extensive memory bank, the Doomani were able to pick out those individuals who had been wielding weapons against them. Those individuals would be picked out of the groups and subsequently dragged away, their fates in question.

For those who had already been imprisoned by the Doomani, their fates were sealed. They were considered heretics and enemies of the Imperium, and would be punished as such…

It would be obvious to anyone with an iota of tactical skills that any force using incendiaries in an enclosed space to suck out oxygen would have to have their own source of oxygen somewhere, therefore rebel commanders had ordered troops to aim at anything that looked suspicious.

In the darkness, however, it was difficult to aim well, and the resistance in Najaster was ill-prepared to resist the Ban Protocol. All they could hope to do was slay as many of the Nazi demons as they could in the inferno which would prepare the souls of the Doomani for the eternal torment they would suffer in Hell, by almost any theological understanding other than that of the Doomani themselves.

The fanatics who chose not to leave set up now in Al-Bahr, where most of them had been concentrated. Without civilians to mingle amongst, most knew their fates were sealed. Some openly displayed signs displaying slogans such as "Put the 'Kahanist' back in Kahanistan!" or "EVERY JEW A .32 - Because the .22 is a piece of shit!" and humorous drawings of bullets bouncing harmlessly off Doomani soldiers with horns and tails, fired by rebels with armbands bearing the fist in a six-pointed star emblem used by the Jewish Defense League. (The 5.56mm NATO standard rounds used in M-16's and Tavors is a .22 round.)

These fanatics made up perhaps 60,000 of the 90,000 who voluntarily remained in the Negev. The other thirty thousand or so were Christian or Muslim extremists of the Fred Phelps or Osama bin Laden variety. Perhaps five hundred Catholics remained behind, divided fairly evenly into two camps: one pro-Doomani camp who wanted to live under Doomani rule, and an anti-Doomani faction that wanted to see the reputation of their religion restored.

Most fanatics were not so open in their hate, however, and pretended outwardly to be loyal Doomani citizens, distancing from their more militant brethren and striking out at only those goyim (non-Jews) or infidels (non-Christians, or non-Muslims) who directly threatened them.

OOC: Should I assume that all the people who fled have been safely delivered to Kahanistan?

"The Kahanistani have arrived in Kahanistan. Begin the money transfer."

Several keys are tapped. The money transfer begins.

Since the majority of the money has not been needed, it is transferred to Havenite Kahanistan. The instruction is simple:

Rebuild your nation. Buy guns. Kill Doomani.

But still, the Allaneans promised five thousand dollars per Kahanistani saved.
And so they deliver.

12,500,000,000 dollars, in some Allanean currency, are sent to Doomingsland - on a large cargo jet.
These are real dollars, not fake in any shape or form, freshly printed and good-looking, free of contaminants.

They have been specially prepared for this purpose since negotiations began.

OOC: Should I assume that all the people who fled have been safely delivered to Kahanistan?
[OOC: Certainly. Makes things a lot simpler.]