NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Before you join, please post your group information off-site at this post (http://theforsakenoutlaw.com/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=595). The reason this is asked is because this thread will get very long and very confusing. Therefore, without a basic guide, nobody will know what is going on. It takes 5 seconds to do a post there so think in advance. Thank you.

"There are more than a hundred definitions of terrorism. It is a hard act to define. Some define revolutionary groups as terrorists while other define organized armies or militias as terrorists. The definition suites the ideology. It can be easily defined as the deliberate intention of killing civilians and innocents to affect a change, whether religious or political but certainly conforming to some ideology. We can all; however, agree that terrorism aims to inflict fear into civilians. Terrorism usually attacks civilian targets such as schools, markets, buses, anywhere that'll provide the most visible results. Terrorism thrives on the media. The more people watching, the better. Schools, crowded markets, those can inflict the most amount of casualties and produce the most amount of fear. To inflict the proper amounts of fear, terrorists prey on the most vulnerable targets, where people feel the safest. Churches, hospitals, schools, those are places were people can feel the safest. If they cannot feel safe there, they will leave in fear, fear enough that terrorism will have certainly met its goal. Terrorism preys on the weak.

"Terrorists see themselves as one side in a war for religious purification, political ideology, or revenge, whichever may be the case. They often way what many call 'illegitimate' war but, without international laws the claim has no validation. People wish to impose limits and rules on warfare, if only just to fight with one hand tied behind their back. Sure, a state may fight by these 'rules of warfare,' but a terrorist group certainly won't. They are certainly waging war against a state but moreover, they wage war against its people, its civilians, to scare them into some sort of resolution. They use fear in order to affect their changes.

"Revolutionary groups, on the other hand, may use terrorist tactics but, usually, in the long run, their goals are more political. They still revolve around ideology but they aim towards political ideologies whereas terrorist groups can often have religious overtones. Revolutionary groups can also use non-violence to affect change whereas terrorist groups strictly use violence, directed usually only at innocent civilians. Revolutionary groups often engage both governmental, military, and can engage civilian forces as well. They primarily focus on military and governmental forces. Revolutionaries support abrupt change much like terrorists.

"However, one primary difference with revolutionary groups is that they do not only thrive on fear. Terrorists thrive on fear and it is their only weapon. Revolutionaries, on the other hand, may use and inflict fear but it is certainly not their only weapon. They support takeover of the government and progressive control thereafter, eventually establishing a legitimate state.

"I am afraid we're out of time. There are a lot of similiarities between revolutionary and terrorist groups. There are also vast and significant differences, some so great as to make you question whether or not they are anything alike. Until tomorrow..." The professor smiled and the class was dismissed. Students picked up their backpacks and shoved in notebooks. They put away pens and pencils, some went back in their pockets and others went into their backpacks. It was an auditorium style room, packed with ninety-eight students, many of them juniors and seniors taking his course. Three of them immediately lined up to ask him questions but many of them headed out, into the beautiful winter day in 1976. Layarteb City was the center of the Republic of Layarteb, a small country that stretched just 194,292.92 mi² or 503,216.31 km². The Republic of Layarteb consisted of Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Washington D.C. It was a beautiful chunk of land that included a contiguous area, easily defendable and packed with almost 100,000,000 people. As the professor walked out of the classroom and towards his office, to end his day, he was met by another professor, one who also taught political science.

"Gordon. How was the lecture?"

"Better than I expected. I didn't finish it though, too many questions Dennis."

"Don't you enjoy that?"

"It lets me know they're paying attention. What do you think about all this talk about a revolution?"

"Here? In the Republic? Well it's certainly possible. The criteria is met. We're engaged in Venezuela, unpopularly. We aren't getting any safer here at home. Crime is up. Murderers and rapists walk the streets. Even the police are fearful. I'd say we're ripe for a revolution. What about you?"

"I'd have to agree but I think we're years away still, if it even happens. President Deveroe seems to be confident that we're safe."

"You listen to everything the President says?"

"Well. What can I say. I go by what I see." He smiled. The campus at University of Layarteb at Layarteb City was a sprawling and beautiful campus, lined with trees that were more than just carefully planted. It was beautiful and though there were protests, here and there, by the students against the war in Venezuela, it was rather quaint and quiet. In winter, the snow that covered the campus gave it a setting of something more akin to a village in rural Layarteb rather than a campus in the busiest and biggest city of the Republic.

"Hi professor. I'm sorry I missed lecture."

"Maggie. Maggie. You missed a great lecture." Dr. Gordon Gray said to her as she came around the corner. "How's your boyfriend. Jack is it?"

"Yeah. He's good we talked today, that's why I'm late, I'm so sorry. He's in Venezuela. You know how that is. But I have good news." She was teeming with it and though she was normally all bubbly, she was even more bubbly now. "We're getting married."

"I'm glad to hear. I'm glad. I hope after college?"

"No. This summer. We're going to get married when he comes back."

"Will you be coming back next year Maggie?"

"I don't think so. I don't really like college anyway."

"You come see me tomorrow and we'll talk about this alright?"

"Sure thing. Gotta run. Class." She ran off with a smile.

"I don't know about that one." Dr. Gray said to his colleague. "Dennis. I can't stand to see that happen."

"Well. You know how it is when you're young, in love, and stupid." He smiled. "She'll be back. They all do."

"I suppose." It was 2:56 p.m. on February 13, 1976, a day that would be forever felt in the land of Layarteb. "Listen. I have to run but I'll see you Monday. Friday the thirteenth huh?" Dennis laughed and Dr. Gray vanished off, into the sunny day outside of the building that housed the political science department and many of its lecture rooms. At 2:58 p.m. the ground around the campus shook with such violence and fury that it seemed almost impossible not to notice it. The rumble followed next and the cracking of the air followed, all like a train with cars arranged properly. They didn't see any flash, which would have been the locomotive of the train. What came next though was the shaking of the ground from the event and the subsequent after effects. The shockwave followed next, shattering windows as the ground continued to rumble.

People stopped where they were, pausing in their walks. Students and professors all paused where they sat or stood. Everyone looked at everyone else, "What was that?" They asked each other. When the glass rained down below a few people got hit and hurt but nothing major, they were superficial wounds.

There were two explosions, each one just fourteen seconds apart and both of them echoed across the campus. "What's happening?" People continued to ask as the professors in the classrooms turned on the televisions. They were all wired into the cable line and most of them switched to any of the six basic news channels, all of which had yet to interrupt whatever regular programming was currently on, showing a various assortment of daytime talk shows and soap operas, programming for the lazy and stupid, as many of the professors described them. Halfway across town, the scene was something vastly different.

There had been two explosions. The first one, which was the initial one, the lesser of the two, was on the West Side Highway. The smoldering wrecks of nearly four dozen cars now sat in the middle of the highway and the subsequent accident created by following vehicles and onlookers on the other side, in essence, shut down the entire highway. At least eighty-five people were dead already and dozens were injured, many of them injured by the pile-up that happened after the explosion. The explosion came from a single car that was riding in traffic and the explosion was sudden, too sudden for anyone to react. Laden with up to five hundred pounds of Semtex A plastic explosives, the explosion turned the entire stretch of the northbound side of the highway for one hundred feet into a smoldering disaster. Forty-eight cars were destroyed, right off the bat. Rush hour traffic had certainly made the situation worse than it had to be and the power of the bomb did more than enough to do the job more than one time over.

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The second explosion came further away, closer to the campus. This was the one that shattered the windows and shook the campus. It was another car bombing but much, much, much more powerful. They had loaded a passenger van with four thousand pounds of Semtex A plastic explosive and driven it towards the Layartebian Congressional building, which was the center of its republican government. They didn't get close enough to cause a complete and total collapse of the building, which they had hoped for but they did get a significant effect. The van had, unfortunately, been overloaded and stalled out just one hundred feet from the building. Due to the heavy weight, the stress on the engine, and the poor road conditions, the van's rear axle broke, causing it to skid to a halt. The explosives went off moments later. For two hundred feet around the van, everything was wiped out and twenty-seven hundred and fifty feet, fragments and missiles soared through the air, tearing into everything they could, people included.

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The scene was a disaster, a total disaster. The second explosion had more than shaken the ground and blown out windows across town. It signalled the start of something that the Republic had feared for ages. Pundits and experts had long warned the republican government that, due to their polices, and their lack of focus on security, terrorism was bound to come to the people of Layarteb. The government leaders just shrugged off the suggestions, each and every one of them. They were on the payrolls of major corporations and they were bribed day in and day out to keep the borders insecure to benefit the interests of a select few. They drove around in expensive cars, chauffeured by limousines and Rolls-Royces; they lived in mansions and bought new suits everyday. They weren't leaders, they were con artists, thieves, and common criminals. They sold out the Republic and its nearly 100,000,000 people for corruption. Their policies put murderers back on the streets and rapists near schools and daycare centers. They opened up the borders to allow illegal immigrants to come in, illegals that were paid well below minimum wage, maximizing profit. They had sold out the Republic for cash and now their day of reckoning had finally come.

Dissent had long been sowed in the Republic and had been growing since 1968. In 1974, it had moved into its active stages. There were protests, mass uproars, and thousands of newspapers and books published that argued for revolution and the removal of the republican government. While unpopular and unwanted war waged in Venezuela, where Layartebian soldiers died for a cause that wasn't their own, people back home acted to defend liberty and freedom. People had resorted to defending themselves and vigilantism was growing. Now, terrorism had come and the first terrorist attacks against the Republic had struck with such force that they would be a symbol for future ones to come.

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The first attack killed 128 people on the highway, injuring some 300 more. Against the capitol building, it had killed 389 people, 58 senators and 100 representatives amongst them, and injured some 600 more. It was a gruesome day and when President Deveroe got on television and denounced the attacks, the people of Layarteb ignored him. They had, for too long, watched as their leaders sold them out for cash and corruption. Greed was too prevalent for the government to not be noticed.

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OOC: Yes I ripped the speech off from President Bush's 9/11 address but only because that was one of the best speeches he's given and it really did a lot for the country. President Deveroe is much like President Bush except for a few things: he isn't ultra-religious (there is no Christian right in Layarteb, it's predominantly pagan), he is way more intelligent (not to say that Bush is stupid but he isn't the brightest light in the ceiling), and he isn't a neoconservative.

"Good evening. Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in their cars, or in their offices; they were our leaders; they were secretaries, businessmen and women, military and federal workers; moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror.

"The pictures of exploding and burning cars, fires burning, have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness, and a quiet, unyielding anger. These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed; our country is strong.

"A great people has been moved to defend a great nation. Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our oldest buildings and our highways, but they cannot touch the foundation of Layarteb. These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of Layartebian resolve.

"Layarteb was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.

"Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature. And we responded with the best of Layarteb -- with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could.

"Immediately following the first attack, I implemented our government's emergency response plans. Our military is powerful, and it's prepared. Our emergency teams are working in Layarteb City to help with local rescue efforts.

"Our first priority is to get help to those who have been injured, and to take every precaution to protect our citizens at home and around the world from further attacks.

"The functions of our government continue without interruption. Federal agencies in Layarteb City which had to be evacuated today are reopening for essential personnel tonight, and will be open for business tomorrow. Our financial institutions remain strong, and the Layartebian economy will be open for business, as well.

"The search is underway for those who are behind these evil acts. I've directed the full resources of our intelligence and law enforcement communities to find those responsible and to bring them to justice. We will make no distinction between the terrorists who committed these acts and those who harbor them.

"I appreciate so very much the members of our Congress who have joined me in strongly condemning these attacks. And on behalf of the Layartebian people, I thank the many world leaders who have called to offer their condolences and assistance.

"Layarteb and our friends and allies join with all those who want peace and security in the world, and we stand together to win the war against terrorism. Tonight, I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened.

"This is a day when all Layartebians from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. Layarteb has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.

"Thank you. Good night." The President ended his remarks with a firm look of resolve. He wasn't too thrilled with the attacks but he wanted to know who was responsible and he wanted to annihilate and destroy them once and for all. He was shaken when the attacks happened, shaken so much that he had to delay his speech a half an hour to compose himself. He was frightened and he was a weak leader, after all. The television address was meant to calm the people of Layarteb but it wasn't going to work. They had all resolved to themselves that this was just another act of mismanagement by a government that had their own interests at heart rather than the interests of the people that had elected them, albeit many of the elections now seemed totally rigged.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have breaking news. This just in," the news channels were still talking about President Deveroe's speech when they were interrupted on each and every channel. "It appears that a videotape is being simulcasted from an undisclosed location taking credit to today's terror attacks. We'll switch to it immediately." On Governor's Island, where President Deveroe resided in the Fortress of Comhghall, the entire staff was furious that a terror tape was on the news, being broadcast throughout the entire Republic before the Central Intelligence Agency could analyze the tape for hidden messages.

The tape was gritty, a byproduct of low light levels and it looked as if it were shot in a basement. Behind the man speaking, there was a flag, a black flag with a red and white star in the center, over it a sickle and hammer, the official symbol of Layarteb's far-leftist political party, the Marxist Party for Worker's Freedom. It was a communist organization and had long advocated the end of republican rule and a switch to a communist government. They had not received much attention in elections over the years but they did receive as many as eight or nine seats in the Congress each election period.

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"Ladies and gentlemen of the Republic of Layarteb. My name is Carl Weathers and I come to you this evening with an explanation and a future. Today's bombings were not terrorist attacks. They were not done to invoke fear or spread terror. They were the opening shots of a war against the illegitimate and corrupt government that calls itself rightful. This is a government that sells out the interests of its people to corporations. This government opens up the borders and lets illegal aliens in to work for wages that not even a dog would work for. This is a government that has sent troops to Venezuela to assist a corrupt and weak government. No longer can our interests be sold out to the highest bidder.

"This is a government so corrupt and so weak that we have infiltrated each and every level of its bureaucracy. We are not terrorists. We are revolutionaries. We are freedom fighters. We're here to bring about change in the government. Our intentions are not against the people of Layarteb but rather its leaders. Our attacks today were against both the center and heart of this corrupt government, its capitol building, and against two senators driving down the West Side Highway. Let me further explain our motives.

"These two senators, who survived the attack, Senator Wilson and Senator Finestein are both high-ranking members on the Committee for Justice. We have evidence, which we will present to the world in our publications, that both of these senators have taken bribes in excess of four million shingrots each to allow fourteen Venezuelan terrorists, real terrorists, into our country in order to work 'security' for a major oil corporation, a corporation based in Venezuela. These fourteen Venezuelan terrorists are not here to work security for a CEO or the Board of Directors. They are here to assassinate political rivals. This is not a democracy anymore. Third World Countries do this nonsense, not a republic!

"This behavior is not just isolated to these two senators. Federal judges, representatives, and our own President himself act with the same criminal intent. This republic has failed and now is the time to act against the unjust that govern our society.

"You may call us the Red Army Faction and this is our flag." He pulled a flag from a table in front of him and unfolded it for the camera.

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"Do not fear this flag for terrorism. People should not have to fear us but our corrupt, ineffective, and bribe-happy leaders shall fear us. They will tremble at our acts and they will see that they are no longer the proper leaders of our country. Good night." He stopped talking and looked at the camera again and with a smile, it ended. The Red Army Faction (RAF) had brought acts of terrorism to the Republic of Layarteb. By 9:00 a.m. the next morning, they were on the terrorist group list.

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Carl Weathers became the most wanted man in Layarteb with a §1,000,000 bounty on his head. In a corrupt republic, it was pocket change for the leaders but, for an average citizen, that was a hefty sum of money, even for a wealthy state. The Central Intelligence Agency couldn't pin the location of the broadcast nor could they deduce any hidden messages within the tape. They had no intelligence on the RAF or its capabilities. All they knew was that they had used two suicide attacks, which scared them. An enemy that wasn't afraid to die was certainly an enemy that wasn't able to be reasoned with nor could the "Fear of God," be put into them. They had used Semtex A, a powerful, military-grade plastic explosive, so powerful that as little as 8.82 ounces could bring down an airliner. They had used quite a bit of it in their two car bombings, both of which had struck with serious results. Had the larger bomb actually gone into the building, as intended, it would have levelled the whole capitol building with little effort. The results would have been catastrophic for the government and the loss of life would have been significantly higher.

OOC: You do realize that these events happened in 1976, before the creation of the Empire of Layarteb and relations between our two nations. Actually, did Trensk even exist in 1976? Basically, like the Drug Wars RP, everyone will have their own story lines. Some will connect to others while others do not. It's basically a free-for-all.

The Red Army Faction laid low after the February 13th attacks. Law enforcement personnel were combing through the wreckages on the highway and at the capitol building looking for any hint of evidence that could give them clues about the RAF. The wreckage was vast but the bombs weren't completely powerful enough to offer absolutely no evidence in the crime. There was plenty of evidence and hundreds of shards of metal containing explosive residue and even an improvised trigger device was found on the highway. When they compared the trigger to that found at the capitol building, they found similarities between the two of them but not enough for a match. The only evidence that they had linking the RAF to both crimes, aside from their admission of guilt, was the similarities between the triggers and the Semtex residue was the same on both scenes, meaning that the same lot of Semtex was used on the crime. It was enough for an indictment, especially since the admission of guilty was from the RAF themselves. The CIA and the Domestic Justice Agency (DJA) were both working hard to find out where the RAF was and who their leaders were. The name "Carl Weathers" wasn't even a known name. Their databases had no information on anybody named "Carl Weathers" at all. They surmised that it was a fictious name, a cover name. They had no image on his face, that had been obscured by a ski mask so they had little to go on, making the job that much more difficult.

Winter wasn't going to leave and just like the RAF it would strike again but on the morning of February 23, a Monday. The snow storm had moved over the northeastern portion of the Republic around 2:00 a.m. and it had somehow managed to stall out over the most populated places, Falcon City and Layarteb City. By 6:00 a.m., when the morning commutes began, there was already an inch of sleet and snow on the ground. Driving conditions weren't going to be good, that was for sure and the meteorologists were predicting at least six to eight inches of a sleet and snow mix by 6:00 p.m., when the snow storm finally moved itself out of the area. Though given more than enough notice, the government had failed the people yet again. Snow plows and sanders, rather than being on the road, were being held up due to more bureaucratic nonsense. Instead of being out at the crack of down, laying down sand-salt, they were being held up by a ridiculous court order. A group of "concerned citizens" had complained that the sand-salt mix that these plows laid down on the roads was harmful to both their vehicles and their children. It was true, salt did eat away at the metal and paint on cars but, for the greater good, it kept people alive and from sliding off the roads into other cars or worse. These "concerned citizens" also claimed that if children ate the mix they could become dangerously ill. This followed two cases of children who, for lack of a better word, were morons. Both of them died after ingesting copious amounts of the sand-salt mix in late December 1975. The parents sued Layarteb City and, in a complete departure from any common sense, the case had actually gone to deliberations. A court order held up further sanding or salting until the outcome of the case. In the eight snow storms that had hit since, three people had died when their cars had lost control and skidded off the road and crashed into two trees and a telephone pole. Accident investigations concluded the none of the three cars had exceeded 15 mph and they were not being driven in a reckless or careless manner. Now, the Republic was being sued three more times, for negligent homicide and the families wanted criminal charges although none were ever levied. All three deaths could have been avoided so, as citizens of the Republic set out to get to work to get their children to school, they all took their lives in their own hands as snow plows and sanders sat quiet and empty at sanitation yards.

Today was going to be a day that concerned citizens of the Republic and not necessarily the ones causing unnecessary deaths won a small victory. There three people who were primarily responsible for the court order and they included a high-profile and unbelievably crooked defense lawyer in Layarteb City, the federal judge in charge of the northeastern district, where the order was upheld, and a lowly representative who was more than just endorsing the order, she was bribing the federal judge to keep it alive. All three people, two men and one woman, were going to pay for their crimes against the people. The RAF had already recorded a video statement and stated, "For the three, innocent civilians who died due to their incompetence we will take three more who have inadvertently caused their deaths." The three people were around various places of the city by 9:00 a.m., when the snowstorm had really taken its toll. There were six car accidents already though, thankfully, none were that serious. Two people were injured but just with broken bones.

As the federal judge walked out of his lavish and bribe-money stocked house on the lower, east side, he nearly slipped and fell on the icy sidewalk. He grumbled and watched as the chauffeur opened the door to towncar. With a grumbled expression, he didn't even say thank you, nor did he really notice his chauffeur's face. This wasn't his regular chauffeur and he bent down before he shut the door, "Sir, if you will excuse me one moment."

"Hurry up!" He grumbled again and the chauffeur shut the door with a smile and walked away. He moved up the stairs to the house and opened the door, to which the federal judge took no notice. Moments later, the car turned into a fireball of molted and jagged metal and burning gasoline. The explosion ripped through the backseat of the car like a hot knife through butter but it wasn't just a blast bomb, it was a fragmentation bomb. The RAF had lined the seats with plastic explosives and over three hundred ball bearings. When the three pounds of Semtex A plastic explosive went off, it sent the ball bearings through the car and through the federal judge at lightning fast speeds. PETN and RDX, the two components of Semtex A detonated at 18,790.26 mph and 19,573.19 mph, respectively, over Mach 25. The explosion certainly did a significant amount of collateral damage, shattering windows across the street and peppering several cars with ball bearings, causing irrepairable damage to two but, luckily, the bomb had only killed the federal judge and injured no one else. The chauffeur put away the radio detonator and opened the door.

"Call an ambulance!" He yelled, keeping up the ruse. Two men, who had ducked away from the explosion now stood up and approached the burning hulk of metal and the chauffeur. "A little too powerful," the chauffeur whispered as he put the detonator in the man's pocket.

"Never too powerful," he smiled. "I'll go call for help." The men ran off but were never seen again. It took a firetruck and ambulance a little over eight minutes to get to the scene, largely due to the terrible snow. There was little they could do though, the federal judge was splattered all over the inside of the car and two of his fingers landed a block away. The chauffeur would be answering questions for some days to come but he had a squeaky clean alibi and would sneak through their fingers. The RAF had planted records that he was a usual chauffeur for the judge and people had seen the judge get in the car willingly when he opened the door.

Next to go was the representative. She was in her office by 11:00 a.m. and watching the news about the execution of the federal judge. She was startled but failed to make any real connection. "Snow's real bad," she commented to her secretary as she shut the door of her office. Her phone was ringing off the hook, mostly in regards to the federal judge but she ignored most of them and walked over to her window to look outside, at the snow. Across the street was a four-level parking garage and it was hard to see through the snow as it came down. She never saw the shot or the van that was parked there. It was a usual van with the markings of a food delivery company and, inside the back, was produce, neatly wrapped and fresh. There was also the driver, who sat in the rear with a long-range, semi-automatic sniper rifle, a H&K PSG-1, one of the most accurate sniper rifles in the world. He had it propped up on a crate of produce and he pointed the barrel out of the open window on the rear door. The scope on the top looked right across the street and he felt the cold of the wintry day as he released the safety on the rifle. He was one of thirty-six men and women of the Red Army Faction who were part of the Elite Squad, a squad hand-picked by Carl Weathers himself. The Elite Squad were all, essentially, the special forces of the RAF and they were given the best weapons and the most leeway. As he squeezed the trigger and sent the 7.62 x 51 millimeter round through the air at 2,850 feet per second, he had not a single second thought. The shot was true and tore through the snow soaked air, twisting through it, heating up the snow and gaining a thin, watery cover. It went through the glass of the office and through the representative's neck, exiting with a burst of blood, before it lodged itself in the thick, wooden door. The shot was suppressed and no muzzle flash was scene. Seeing the kill, the driver shut the window, hid the rifle, and drove off. Her body wasn't found for another twenty minutes, long after she had bled to death on the floor. She had tried to crawl to the door but her vocal cords were severed and she was bleeding too much. It was a gruesome scene.

In two hours, two of the "killers" had been taken out and the last was the lawyer, who was in his office just as well. His office was on the fortieth floor of a lavish building that housed lawyers, investors, realtors, and other rich, businessmen. Getting to him would be the hardest because there was no clear angle to assassinate him with a sniper shot so, instead, they opted to wait. Everyday, at 1:00 p.m., he left his office and walked across the street to grab a cup of coffee and lunch. He did it without fail, everyday, regardless of weather. This would be their opportunity. A spy for the RAF sat in the lobby of the building and waiting for him. He made up the cover of being there for an interview, very early for said interview. He was waiting now. As the elevator doors opened and the lawyer emerged, he put down the magazine and quickly walked up to the front desk. "I am going out for a bite to eat. I still have some time," he smiled as he said it.

"Sure Mr. Jackson. If I see Harry come down I'll be sure to have him wait," the guard at the front desk said, unaware of what was about to happen.

The RAF man smiled and walked out of the building, which was the sign that the lawyer was coming. In the sea of people in downtown Layarteb City, the lawyer could be easily bumped by someone and it wouldn't be out of the ordinary. The man, who waited at the street for the lawyer to come out removed something from his pocket, something that was very small but very deadly. It was a needle and inside of it were two teaspoons of poison. He removed the cover from the needle and squirted out a little. The needle was free and clear and that was good enough. He stood besides the lawyer and, in his right hand, held the needle. As they began to cross the street, he bumped into the lawyer quickly and jabbed the needle into his side, pushing the poison quickly. "Oh I'm sorry sir, I tripped a little. Excuse me," he said politely as he backed away. The needle had gone right through his coat and his shirt. Rudely, the man brushed him off and kept walking. By the time he got to the other side of the street, he was feeling queasy and it felt as if the air around him was 100s of degrees. He collapsed moments later, inside the coffee shop and by the time the paramedics arrived, his heart had stopped.

The three murderes had shocken the Republic but, when the RAF showed their tape, a lot of people began to wonder about them. The Layartebian people certainly didn't tolerate murderers or terrorists but they saw their governmental leaders as corrupt murderers themselves. The explanation given had, surprisingly, reached many of the people of Layarteb as a plausible explanation and when the evidence was presented in various "rebel" newspapers the next day, people began to really wonder about the effects of the RAF. Sympathy for their actions drew although not their cause. The Layartebian people were not and would never be communists but they did feel as if the group was standing up for them.

OOC: Just curious if anyone else plans on doing any "terrorism RPs" here? Maybe there is a misconception that it's one of my closed threads (don't worry it isn't). It's a thread for everyone in E2 like War on Drugs. I just dispensed with the generic name for something that is more akin to terrorism. Quietly...Into the Night, is meant to describe how a terrorist can attack and then just vanish without a trace.

OOC: I was going to start but eh...a bit preoccupied with the whole TOA trying to take me out thing, you know.

April 1976 started off as an unusual month. The February 13 attacks by the Red Army Faction and the subsequent assassinations on March 25 were still being talked about in the news and at dinner tables. Everyone wondered where they would attack next and what they would do next. The Red Army Faction was being hunted by the police, albeit unsuccessfully. Bureaucratic red tape was hindering their efforts as local and federal authorities clashed over jurisdiction and motive. Many of investigators within both police forces agreed that the Red Army Faction had rose up to take advantage of the situation in Venezuela and attack the way of the life to destablize the government. That much was true and that was one of their intentions. They wanted to remove the Layartebian government from power but instate a communist government instead.

On April 2, they struck again and with significantly more force than before. They had three targets and all three of them were high value targets that would decimate the resolve of the government, they hoped. The first attack was going to be against the Domestic Justice Agency, the agency primarily responsible for hunting them down. The DJA was headquartered in Layarteb City, not far from the capitol building, which had been decimated by the first set of attacks. The building was a crime scene, combed day in and day out by DJA field operatives and local law enforcement investigators and detectives. They collected evidence still and tried hard to find some linkage to the Red Army Faction that would allow them to build a further case against them. They saw the DJA as their primary enemy and it was, hence why they wanted to destroy them.

Two drivers of the elite force set out on the morning of April 2 with a large cargo van. The two men trailed the van, which was a food delivery service vehicle, for two miles after it set out from its warehouse at 5:00 a.m. They had trailed it four times before that and its route was the same each and every day. Now, they planned to stop it after its second stop. The third stop was the DJA headquarters. Both of them were armed with Colt M1911A1 pistols, suppressors screwed onto the ends. They drove their beat up, old Chevrolet Caprice sedan behind the van, marking its each and every stop along the way. As the drivers backed into the loading dock at the second stop, they picked up a two-way radio and turned it on, to a secure frequency. "Two. Wait three." That was all they said, which was code that the van was at its second stop and they were awaiting it to move out to the third. Ten minutes later, the van pulled away with both workers inside. It turned down one of the blocks and the passenger in the Caprice picked up the radio again. "Good Link." That was the go code and they watched from behind as an 18-wheeler sped across the street, blocking it. The driver in the van slammed on the brakes and the van skidded to a halt on the deserted, industrial street.

"What the hell?" The driver yelled as he stepped out of the van. The two elite soldiers behind him in the Caprice stepped out of their car as well but they brandished pistols. "What..." The driver asked again as he eyed to the pistols. Without a word, the driver of the Caprice raised his pistol and squeezed off two shots. They echoed in the street and tore through his chest at a slow 800 feet per second. Both rounds packed enough punch to kill the driver right away. The passenger of the van, who was in the process of stepping out of the van jumped back into it and slammed the door shut, locking it. They had no radio in the van meaning they could call for no help.

"Alright. Let's go." The two elite men approached the van from the rear and tried to open the door. It wouldn't open. "Locked." Another man appeared from behind them and stepped into the Caprice. He pulled away and drove off with it, to ensure that nothing was left behind. The bodies would be collected too, as well as the spent shell casings. For the time being though, they had to get into the van. "Police. Open up." The passenger inside wouldn't budge at all and he was going to have to make them work but he messed up; the driver had shut the door but never locked it and neither did the passenger. The two elite walked around either side of the van and up to the two doors. The driver opened the drivers door and smiled. "In." He yelled over the van and opened the door, his pistol pointed forward. "Cover rear." He hit the unlock button on the doors and looked into the van. "We're police. Come out with your hands up."

"No! You're not police! I want to see a badge! You shot my driver!"

"Your driver is a known terrorist with the Red Army Faction. You are an accessory. Come out with your hands up!"

"I don't believe it!"

"Believe it! Come out now with your hands up! If I have to climb in here I'm not going to be happy." He yelled again. There was no response and he yelled out again. "Come out NOW!"

"Alright. Alright. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." He opened up the back doors and stepped out with his hands up, visibly scared. The passenger kept his gun on him and the driver moved around to him too. "Where's your badge?"

"Right here." The driver said as he squeezed off two more rounds into his chest. "Clean up," he said into the radio and the 18-wheeler pulled away. A different Caprice returned but now with a full cabin of five men, all of them part of the elite force as well. They went to work cleaning up the mess and all of them were dressed in police uniforms. If anyone asked questions, they would be silenced and sent away. This was now, an "official" crime scene although these weren't real police officers. The two men who had stepped out of the Caprice originally now stepped into the delivery van and drove off, leaving the scene rather quietly. They only had to go a few blocks before they stopped again and this time backed into a warehouse. "We've got three minutes. Let's go NOW!" Three minutes was all the time they had, not enough to do much except to load the van, which was all that was really necessary. RAF men opened the back doors of the van and immediately began to offload the food suppies, which were packed into the rear of the van in four creates. That took only seconds as four men, each the size of the van itself, each picked up one crate. A forklift came next, carrying a pallet with boxes as well, all resembling the same boxes that were just offloaded except that this pallet weighed close to 2,000 pounds and food wasn't inside of its boxes. The loading took close to two minutes, which still gave them a little time to get the bomb ready. It was a bomb, a big bomb that was going to be armed as they drove. Three minutes later, they pulled out of the warehouse, wearing the uniforms of the delivery workers, uniforms that they had obtained through less than legal methods just as well.

The van pulled out of the warehouse on schedule and on time. They made up for lost time trying to get the two workers out by loading extra quickly. Backed with 2,000 pounds of plastic explosives, military-grade Semtex A, which was 1.66 times more powerful than T.N.T. for demolitions purposes, it was like having the equivalent of a 3,320 pound bomb. The Red Army Faction had tons upon tons of Semtex A that it obtained through corruption and legitimate foreign purchases. They had used up just 6,503 pounds of their Semtex A stocks and they still had over 40,000 pounds remaining. They were an army unto themselves and the van was just one of their swords. The driver and his passenger both were calm and cool. They knew they were driving around with a huge bomb but they also knew that they would be able to get into their intended target without much effort. The DJA HQ was an imposing building that hung in lower Layarteb City like an ominous reminder of the Republic's call to justice; however, that call had been silenced in the past two decades.

The roads were moderately packed for this time of the morning and the spring air hung over them like a warm embrace of peace. It brought with it some hope that the people of Layarteb felt. They didn't see any attacks since the three assassinations and nothing major since February 13. They still wondered what was going to happen but the fear was beginning to ebb from their minds. The DJA had falsely arrested four people just a week prior to today and accused them of being RAF terrorists but in just forty-eight hours, they were released for lack of evidence. They were already in the process of suing the government and the DJA for the arrests, which were legitimate, at first. The DJA faltered without leads and President Deveroe was beginning his re-election campaign with a vow to not allow terrorism to come to the shores of the Republic. He had already broken that promise and so long as Layartebian forces were stretched out in Venezuela, fighting for a cause that wasn't their own, alongside soldiers who wanted no victory, they were going to be terrorized.

The van turned down various streets here and there, the driver knowing the way by heart and memory. They weren't going to be suicide warriors but they weren't going to allow themselves to be caught either. Both of them had ski masks inside of the van, which they would wear once they got past the front gate and got out. The security guard manning the front gate was with the RAF and so he'd make sure that they got in fine but after that, it was up to them. They wouldn't have any trouble, it seemed. As they turned down the final road before they had to enter the DJA HQ, they lowered their caps to conceal their eyes and faces. They didn't want to be seen by the cameras as they entered and they pulled up to the front gate slowly, behind a pair of squad cars. Both squad cars went in without hassle but the gate was lowered for them when they approached the booth.

"Indentification please." The guard asked. "Alright, thank you." He checked the roster quickly but failed to actually look at the badges. "Alright go in." He said a moment later and nodded to them as the gate opened. "That's it for me man, I'm going to get a hot dog or something, I'm starved." He called out to the other security guard in the booth. It was still the morning but a hot dog was good at any time of the day. "Want anything?"

"Yeah. Get me one too. Sauerkraut and ketchup please. I haven't had a dog in a few weeks." With a smile, he nodded and walked away, calmly. He knew he had time before the bomb went off so he didn't rush away, careful not to attract any attention. He walked off carefully and disappeared around the corner, heading to a hot dog stand six blocks away. He'd tell them, when he was filing his statement that the hot dog stand, though so far away, was his favorite because of the flavor. They wouldn't think twice, even though he passed six of them on the way to that one. It was a logical assumption and a fair explanation.

"Alright mask on." The two men put on their masks as they pulled into the basement parking lot and went down one level. There were five levels in total and the second basement was where they wanted to be because that was where the computers were. They moved slowly through the basement parking garage and moved up to the loading area. It was empty and both of them were pleased with that because it was what they wanted. They locked the doors, set the timer, and got out of the van. They didn't run from the van at all, they had plenty of time but when they got to the staircase, they booked up the steps. When they exited the staircase at street level, they walked again. They had a few minutes to get out of the area before the bomb went off and they too wanted to be six blocks away. It wouldn't be a problem once they got back on the street. Lucky not to pass by anyone on the way out of the basement, they exited the building at street level and got into a crowd of people crossing the street before they tore off their masks. They moved up one more block and got into an awaiting car, the same Caprice that they were driving. "Let's go!" The driver looked at his watch and the Caprice sped off, down the street, making an illegal right on red. The driver tore through traffic and away from the scene as fast as possible. It was all he could do since they had less than four minutes to go.

The timer counted down too quickly it seemed but four minutes after they jumped into the Caprice, the entire island of Manhattan shook. Two security guards, noticing that the van was empty and locked had already broken in the window and were unlocking the door when the bomb went off, vaporizing them instantly. The explosion moved at over Mach 25 as it ripped through the basement. Cars were thrown over and shattered with debris, set ablaze from the explosion and destroyed from the force, which now moved up and out of the van. The building shook as the explosion slammed into its walls, pushing them apart from the sheer force, which radiated upwards. Like the game Jenga, the building begain to sway to one side as its bottom support became undone. Cars at street level were flung about and glass shattered for hundreds of yards. Ear drums were shattered and people doubled over from the force. This was a heavy bomb but not as heavy as the one used against the capitol building.

It only lasted seconds. The fireball was mostly trapped in the basement but as it tore up, through the shattered and twisting remains of the building, it began to tear the building apart. The building jolted and groaned as the entire eastern face of it became undone, collapsing towards the ground. Half of the building was torn off the structure and arranged in a pile on the ground. Papers flew everywhere and blood was a familiar sight. The attack had, effectively, annihilated the entire DJA in one swoop, destroying not only the main computers but the back up servers as well. The RAF had effectively crippled and destroyed the only civilian agency capable of fighting them in one single swoop. It was done...

Lepetsk, 340 km south-west of Voronej

Artem Perov was standing on his post outside of a weapons storage building in Lepetsk. The snow was falling heavily from the heavens, it was cold, suddenly a figure emerged from the wall of falling snow.

"Эй солдатик, огонька ненайдёца?"
Hey soldier, you got a light?

An old man, probably a hobo, a ciggarette in his right hand, asking for a light, nothing out of the ordinary it would be the 3rd one Artem helped out that day.

"Да отец иди сюда."
Yeah "father" come here.

Artem reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. The old man came closer, Artem gave the ligter to him. As the old man was taking it his right sleeve slid down his arm revealing a swastika tatoo. Artem took a step backwards and pulled his AD-142 Yastreb rifle down from his shoulder pointing it at the old man. The old man showed no sign of worry, he lit up his cigarette, took a drag and grinned at Artem.

"Что случилось, сынок?"
Whats wrong "son"?

The old man said in a calm voice as he took another drag.

"Твоя татуировка...ты нацист? Стой, стрелять буду!"
Your tattoo...you're a nazi? Stand still or I will shoot!

"Я не нацист, я патриот....ну ладно пора стобой прощаться."
Im not a nazi, Im a patriot....alright its time for me to tell you goodbye.

"Чт...."
Wha...

another figure appeared behind Artem, a piece of wire in his hands he pulled it around Artem's neck and at the same time brought the unfortunate soldier to the ground. Before passing out Artem was able to take a look at his killer...Lev, one of the soldiers in his unit. Artem struggled but it was useless, darkness took him.

"Ты долго, этот мог меня застрелить."
Took you a while, this one could have shot me.

The old man said as he extended a handshake to Artem's killer.

"Не, этот был пацифист....внутри я всех убил, всего восемь человек. Если они через час невыйдут на связь то сюда пошлют солдат. Давай побыстрее, у твоих ребят пятьдесят менут всё растоскать.?
No, that one was a pacifist....inside I killed everyone, eight people altogether. If they don't contact the HQs by radio in an hour soldiers will be dispatched here. Hurry up, your guys have fifty minutes to take everything out.

"Да, да."
Yeah, yeah.

The old man pulled out a radio.

"Все на обьект, быстро!"
Everyone on come here, hurry!

And so the stripping of the Lepetsk weapons storage has begun about a hundred members of the Pushkan Liberation Army stormed into the building taking hundreds of cases of ammunition, grenades and AD-142 Yastreb assault rifles. They were done in 40 minutes, stripped the place completely, loaded everything in their trucks and left. The PLA made a come back then no one was expecting it. PLA was wiped out during the Russian Revolution over 10 years ago, all of its leaders executed, most of its soldiers killed or put in jail....yet they survived the Federation was caught unprepared.

The DJA building had been built in the 1950s and was a beautiful expanse of a structure. It had over 2,000 employees within it and, at the time of the explosion, there were 1,850 people inside, including 200 children in the daycare center, which was, luckily, on the opposite side of the structure, unharmed by the blast itself. It was constructed of reinforced concrete and was, by all means, a solidly built structure but even those fell to the awesome power of Semtex A.

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When the bomb went off, the ground of Manhattan shook. Fifty-five miles away, the blast was felt and a small earthquake of almost 3.0 was felt on the Richter scale. It was a devestating explosion and it was a devestating strike by the Red Army Faction. Rescue workers and other first responders rushed to the scene, hampered by the excessive traffic jams and grid lock created as motorists stopped their vehicles and looked out, on the horizon, as smoke billowed thousands of feet into the air.

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The scene around the building was just as terrible as the building itself. For a two block radius around the building, minor fires burned in automobiles and shops. Citizens rushed around, panicked that there was yet another terrorist attack. Many of them were injured from the blast wave itself and over 20,000 9-1-1 calls had been placed within just two minutes, overloading the city's emergency response network. Fire trucks and ambulances rushed to the scene from all over, many of them manned only by half crews, whoever was in the station. Within a two block radius it was almost impossible to get to the building itself and some fire trucks resorted to literally pushing cars out of the way. They had to get to the disaster and they had to get there as fast as they could, there were lives to be saved and a major catastrophe to deal with, so major that they began to recruit anyone off the streets with a good pair of hands and muscle to help. This was not a time for just first responders but Layartebians as a whole.

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When the dust cleared, twelve hours later, the building was nothing more than a shell. Initial estimates put over 500 dead and at least 1,200 of the remaining 1,350 injured. When they began to sift through the dust, their estimates changed sharply. Recovery efforts worked throughout the day and into the night. As President Deveroe planned his speech that evening, rescue workers and civilians dug through the rubble with their hands, calling out for survivors. When President Deveroe began his speech, at 8:30 p.m., they had a confirmed 712 dead and 638 injured in the building and an additional 82 dead around the building and 389 injured. The death toll only increased as time passed.

"Good evening. Today, at precisely 8:52 a.m., terrorists from the Red Army Faction detonated a massive bomb inside the Domestic Justice Agency building in downtown Layarteb City. This deliberate act of terrorism was done to strike fear into the hearts and minds of Layartebian citizens." In reality, it was a strategic target. "The Red Army Faction wants us to fear them and to create a state of lawlessness in the Republic. Let me be frank, they have failed! Right now, the Domestic Justice Agency is operating adequately enough to do their job just as well as they have done before.

"The Red Army Faction is a terrorist group, a domestic terrorist group, that will be destroyed. They struck at the Domestic Justice Agency because they fear it, because it was hunting them, and because it can protect the people. They want to sever the lawful arm of the government and prevent it from protecting the people and from tracking them down and hunting them like dogs, like the dogs that they are.

"I ask tonight that you please think of the victims of this terrible act. Tomorrow will not be a day ruled by fear and injustice but a day ruled by law, order, and civility. Good night." His speech was quick and short. He hoped it would calm the people but it didn't. The real mess was about to begin and he didn't even know it yet.

By morning of April 3, the death toll was given with assurance. Inside the building, of the 1,850 people, some 928 people were dead, 852 were injured, and 70 managed to escape unharmed. In the area surrounding the building, 128 people had died and 450 were wounded. Over two dozen vehicles were destroyed beyond any repair and almost a hundred more were damaged. Six other structures had moderate damage, mostly due to the shock wave of the explosion and the collapsing building. Fires destroyed eleven businesses and four homes. Eleven rescue workers had to be hospitalized for injuries sustained during the rescue efforts from falling debris and secondary fires. Thus far, since February 13, the Red Army Faction had killed 1,578 people and injured 2,202 people in their six attacks. They had blown up the Capitol building, the DJA building, a section of the West Side Highway, and they had killed three prominent politicians in a separate series of incidents.

When the police agencies of Layarteb City, following the directive of the President and the remaining members of Congress, delcared martial law in Layarteb City at 3:00 p.m., to be in effect at 9:00 p.m., the people revoluted. They were being punished because the government couldn't protect them. Anyone caught on the streets after 9:00 p.m. would be arrested and this was not going to happen to them. Almost a million citizens of Layarteb City began uproar, chaos, and terror themselves. Riots broke out everywhere as citizens, fed up with the ineffective government, fought back against the "punishment" that they were dealt. The leaders of the Red Army Faction stayed silent and in hiding, watching on television as the people rose up against the government.

OOC: Been a while...

The April 2nd attacks ingrained in everyone that the Red Army Faction wasn't going anywhere. They had crippled the only civilian agency capable of fighting them and they had brought out the military. The people had stood up for their rights and refused to be put under martial law. They protested daily outside the President's home and outside the capitol building. They had demands. They wanted protection from the terrorists and they wanted their rights. If they lost their rights, the terrorists had won and if the terrorists weren't stopped, what point was there, living with fear. While the RAF leaders stayed cowardly silent, hiding away from the city, away from the cameras and the scrutiny of the government, the people rose up and clamored for security and safety. Overall, polling showed that the people were not surprised with the terrorist campaign. Many of them had seen it as inevitable since the Venezuelan conflicts began to suck more and more of the Republic's money and forces. However, many of them expected the government to, at minimum, provide some level of protection. By April 3, it was evident that the government was either sitting this one out or incapable of doing their duty. Vigilantism suddenly took a sharp rise as the country began to initiate its final days, tearing itself apart from within, all because of ineffective and corrupt leaders.

But that wasn't the only outcome. On April 5, 1976, a video tape made its way to the local news stations. Broadcasters must have expected it to be a message from the RAF as it was taken with zeal and promptly put into a VCR for reviewing. "The Republic of Layarteb is a sovereign nation and a land where freedom has been a staple point." The voice began. It was a black screen with a flag on the foreground, a flag that none of them had ever seen. Had the RAF splintered already? Many of them wondered, some aloud.

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"For the past two months the Red Army Faction have killed 1,578 people and injured 2,202 people in their six attacks. They have blown up the Capitol building, the DJA building, a section of the West Side Highway, and they had killed three prominent politicians in a separate series of incidents. These politicians may have been corrupt but their assassinations were not proper. What has our government done in these two months?" Silenced ensued as a picture of President Deveroe giving his speech after the attack on the capitol building flashed on the screen. "Nothing. There have been no arrests. There have been no counter moves. There has been nothing in the Senate or in the Assembly. Our leaders continue to talk about ways to swindle the almighty Shingrot from the middle class and lower class Layartebian. They waste our tax dollars debating whether or not to allow people to cross the street without looking both ways.

"It is evident that the Republic is under attack. From within. Our leaders swore oaths to defend our constitution from enemies. Foreign. And domestic! They have broken that oath. They are as much our enemy as the Red Army Faction." Pictures of their attacks flashed onto the screen. The piece was well edited. "So now we, the Liberation Faction will rise fourth. We are a nationalistic group. Our goal is to defend liberty and democracy. We sympathize with the Layartebian people as we are Layartebian people. We are not going to stand around while our children and women die and our President continues to do nothing. We may be branded as terrorists. As vigilantes. As criminals. Whatever we are called by the media. By the government. By the RAF. Know this. We are the enemies of the Red Army Faction. We oppose them. Their violence. Their ideology. Their methods. And. Most of all. We oppose the lack of action that our government has taken. Today we go fourth, legions strong for a safer tomorrow." At first, news reporters watching the tape thought it was a bluff from the Red Army Faction, to further confuse the government. Several of them stated that it would be a waste of airtime to air the video. Others suggested turing it over to the police. Ultimately it was aired and April 5, 1976, was the day that the people fought back.

The President was beyond flabberghasted. There was the Red Army Faction, bombing the living hell out of everything there was to bomb. They were knocking off officials left and right and there had yet to be any arrests, any leads, or anything that could possibly find them. Now there was a second group, the Liberation Faction, which rose up to oppose the Red Army Faction but they made it obvious that they weren't friendly with the government either. There were three factions now inside of the Republic: the government, the RAF, and the LF. Things just couldn't get worse for him or the government until April 8. The announcement of the Liberation Faction was just three days old now. The Liberation Faction was about to make its debut into the world of "civil disobediance" but disobediance at the point of a rifle.

The main man inside of the Liberation Faction was Justin Amar but, in reality, he was one of the founders of the Red Army Faction. However, in two short months, he had grown accustomed to the violence, too accustomed. Amar never truly believed in the ideals of the RAF but he definitely believed in the fight against the government. The RAF he saw just as a tool to achieve that goal. In those two months though, he began to see the RAF as too powerful of a tool. He needed to counteract their influence and so he did. He gathered supporters, forty individuals at first but they would grow. The Liberation Faction was just an offshoot of the RAF but it's goals were opposite. The LF wanted to bring down the government too but the goal wasn't to establish a communist government but rather to maintain the republican democracy that existed. The LF was a nationalistic group, just like the RAF but it wasn't as large, it wasn't as powerful but it had an advantage. Amar knew a lot about the RAF, especially their operations.

He knew that on April 8, they were planning to blow up a clothing store in the middle of Layarteb City, just a half of a mile from the destroyed federal building. The RAF planned on planting a small bomb inside of a suitcase, less than twenty pounds of Semtex but enough to annihilate the entire store, which was, in reality, not that large. It wasn't like a huge department store but it was large enough that more than forty people were in there at any given time. The RAF wanted to kill as many of them as possible to instill a fear into people. The goal was easy, to make people too scared to even shop. It had a point and it had an aim. All of their attacks did, as relentless as they seemed.

The Liberation Faction would use this a their baptism of fire. All forty of them would turn out for this spectacle, although not all as combatants. Amar had left the RAF after the plans to blow up the federal building were finalized. He, in essence, had full and complete knowledge of the next five months of planned RAF attacks, although who knew if they had altered plans. That was why it was essential to come with enough firepower to overdue anything they had, to give the RAF a message, that the LF was definitely capable of destroying anything that the RAF could put against them. All forty of them were stationed all around the department store, in the street, in apartments, in the cafes, and in cars. They were all armed, most of them with pistols because that was easily concealable but a few, Amar included, carried sawed off shotguns or submachine guns. All of them kept their weapons hidden and their eyes alert as they waited for the RAF members to come towards the store. The attack was set to happen around twelve noon, when the place would be packed. The plan was simple, walk in, drop the suitcase, walk out, then remote detonate. The RAF usually operated in small teams and lately they had been using their elite squads to carry out the attacks, which was something that wasn't entirely planned for, at least this early in the game. The elites operated in four man teams and there were nine teams in total. Usually, for something this small, they'd only need one team. One man would go inside, plant the bomb, and the other three would remain outside, serving as guards and lookouts.

When that happened, the LF would be waiting for them, weapons hidden until absolutely necessary. Amar wasn't sure if the RAF planned to send one or more teams. He, himself, as a former operations director, would have ordered a single team since it was an easy mission but something in his gut told him to hold off just yet. There could be more and so, when he noticed the first team coming, he gave the order to hold positions. He was near the front of the would be battle scene, a sawed off shotgun underneath his coat, a pump-action Remington 1100 with its barrel sawed down to just fourteen inches and the rear of it sawed off as well. It was beyond illegal but he had four rounds inside of the tube and another in the chamber, all of them twelve gauge slugs. He didn't want to miss and hit innocent civilians and he knew that the RAF elite squads wouldn't be wearing body armor, not in this situation. The twelve gauge, magnum slugs, would tear through their bodies like a hot knife through butter and that was all he needed. Other operatives with the LF had buckshot loads while others kept their submachine guns hidden, full magazine loads ready to go. "Here they come." He said into the microphone that had been put on his collar. It was small, alike to what the secret service used but it was expensive. He had a small receiver in his ear. All of them did. "Hold now. I see four but there could be more, who knows. Stay sharp. Report anything you see." Everyone kept silent as the ground around them stayed static. The four elite squads were coming closer and closer to the store and the time was beginning to run out, they would have to act fast and soon. "Don't see anyone." He said as he gritted his teeth. "They're out there..." He said again but he knew that he couldn't find them. The four of them approached the front door of the shop. Shit. He said to himself as realized that it was time to act. "Go!" He said as he pulled the shotgun out of his coat, aimed, and got off the first shot.

Time slowed down as he squeezed the trigger and let the slug fly. It tore through the air and into the chest of one of the men. The man holding the bomb was alive still and he was quick to react. He dove into the store as the gunshot blasted through the air around the street. "GO NOW!" He yelled as more of the LF began to fire off rounds through the air. The RAF had reacted quickly and took up positions to shield them. All three of them had their guns drawn and were firing off, towards the men shooting back at them. They didn't know if they were being shot at by the government or some opposition group. They all saw the announcement of the Liberation Faction but few of them believed them capable enough to mount any sort of counter assault, let alone know where they would strike. They came ill prepared but they reacted sharply. The forty people from the LF weren't all shooting at once. They reacted in a tiered system and twelve of them, including Amar, was up and shooting now. They had turned a street in Layarteb City into a shooting gallery. Bullets were flying everywhere. One person was dad, the RAF elite soldier, and four others, all innocent bystanders had been wounded. The gunfight seemed to be an instant stalemate as the three RAF soldiers and the twelve LF soldiers exchanged gunfire. Bystanders scurried out of the way as the RAF scored two kills with well placed shots from their Colt .45 M1911 pistols. That's what they carried.

The Liberation Faction was down two members and they weren't that large of an organization to begin with, which made this more difficult. They continued to exchange gunfire though and as the one RAF elite carrying the bomb emerged from the store, without the bomb but the pistol in his hand, Amar knew that they had failed in the task. "GET BACK!" He ordered as the RAF began their own retreat. Less than a few seconds later, the bomb went off with all of its might and power. The shock wave of the blast tore through the windows, shattering them and the ones across the street. Anyone on their feet for a large radius around the front of the building was knocked down, hard, onto the ground. Anyone standing within a few feet of the front of the store were thrown backwards, including Amar. The blast that went off followed next. The store lit on fire from the tremendous heat as the blast followed the shockwave. People were torn apart while other people were thrown around, some in pieces. The blast was catastrophic but the chaos doubled with the fact that now two groups had turned the streets of Layarteb City into a shooting gallery, making everything worse.

President Deveroe sat in his office on the afternoon of April 8, watching the news channels. Camera crews flocked to the bombing scene like roaches to the darkness. The number of victims was large but hard to say with any certainty. In the firefight, a total of six people died, one of them from the RAF and two from the LF. The remaining three were innocent bystanders who died before they got to the hospital. An additional fourteen other bystanders were injured and two women from the LF were injured as well. That constituted the victims of the firefight. The blast was a different story. The bomb was only half the expected power. Instead of ten pounds it was five, enough to tear the store to pieces but not level the building. The blast tore through the store in milliseconds, killing all thirty-eight women, children, and men inside. Nobody was even injured. The blast continued outwards and upwards, injuring three people, a family, who lived upstairs from the store. Outside of the store, the blast killed seven people, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, two of which were killed outright by the concussion, the other five by flying debris. An additional forty-six were injured. That brought the total body count, thus far, to fifty-one dead and sixty-three were injured. Out of those sixty-three, at least twenty-two of them were critical and probably wouldn't make it through the night. Doctors at the nearest hospital were working overtime and quickly to stabilize all of the injured victims. Triage put the most critically injured as priority but the rest were lesser priorities. That brought the total to 1,629 dead and 2,265 injured. That was for two months, the first attacks occurring on February 13. It wasn't even April 13 yet.

The President sat in his office, listening to his cabinet secretaries drone on and on about figures, about leads, and about witness testimonies. None of it meant anything though. He slammed his fist on the table, no longer able to listen to any more of it. "Enough!" He roared out with an echo. "This is nonsense. We have no leads. We have no arrests. All we have are bodies and scared people. We can't put the military on the streets. We tried that and look where it got us. We're working with our hands tied behind our backs here. The RAF are terrorists and that is what they are. They aren't patriots and they aren't fighting for the good of the people. They are mowing down the people left and right! This is madness to thing they are affecting any sort of change! I won't hear any of it! Not another fucking word. Understood?" They understood. "Alright NOW! This Liberation Faction. They're just a bunch of terrorists too. That's all they are. Terrorists. It's one group fighting another group. This happens. They're a splinter group of the RAF. I don't doubt it but they cannot be allowed to turn our streets into a goddamn shooting gallery. I don't care what grievance they have with each other, they're both terrorists and both against us. Now. I want some goddamn arrests. I want some leads. And for Christ's fucking sake I want some answers! I'm sick of 'I don't know,' or 'We'll get to that.' Enough of that fucking nonsense! Enough goddamnit! Where the fuck are our answers. Here we are, sitting around with our thumbs in our asses as these two terrorist groups murder innocent civilians and attack our government! They are enemies of the goddamn state and I want them brought to justice! Is that understood?" Once again, they understood. "Good. Now this meeting is over!" He stood up and roared out of the room, leaving the cabinet there to ponder the speech to themselves. Later that day, the count would rise to 1,648 dead and 2,246 injured as nineteen people died from their injuries throughout the course of the evening and night.

Dozens upon dozens of miles away, in the middle of rural New York, along the border with Connecticut, the Red Army Faction was trying to figure out just what happened. The three survivors of the attack returned with the news that they had encountered "resistance." By "resistance" they meant another group that was opposing them. "What do you mean you were shot at? And not by the police?" Carl Weathers demanded as they gave their report. The television was on in the background and they all paid careful attention to what was being reported. "A second group?"

"Yes."

"But who? The Liberation Faction?"

"It had to be. It wasn't the police. It wasn't the feds. It wasn't the military."

"That's preposterous. How could they know where we were. What we were attacking. What we were doing?"

"They knew. They were there. Lots of them. I only count maybe twelve of them. Maybe twelve. But there were more. They were everywhere. Shooting at us. They shot Mark right off the bat wit ha shotgun. Someone. He looked familiar but I couldn't see." Carl listened intently to the Elite cell leader as he spoke to him. "They knew our plan. They did!"

"It has to be one of us. It has to be. They couldn't have known unless it was one of us. They are a splinter group."

"It's possible. It's feasible."

"Yes. Johanna. I want a list of everyone who went missing or died in the last month."

"Sure Carl." The elderly woman vanished from the room and would return a few hours later with a long list, a list that detailed everyone who had either gone missing or died. Anyone who was confirmed dead was going to be omitted but that still left about thirty-one people who could not be accounted for and since they knew of no arrests, they had to either be alive or incapacitated. Justin Amar was leading the list...

April was going to be a long month, everyone knew that as soon as the firefight broke out on April 8. April 9, just one day later, saw increased terrorism. An assassination attempt killed a major player in the Layarteb City Department of Public Works and injured two others. That was the doing of the Liberation Faction, which aimed at offsetting the RAF with their own small campaigns, targetted at RAF supporters within the government. There were many of them, despite the campaign of terror that they waged in the streets of Layarteb City. Innocents were being slaughtered by the RAF alone but now, with the inclusion of the LF, things were going to get worse. Both groups wanted, as an ultimate goal, the complete and total withdrawal of all Layartebian forces from Venezuela and they were soon getting that due to their violence. Layartebian soldiers were fighting a completely uphill battle against a group of rebels within the Venezuelan countryside that had more support from the ruling, corrupt government than from the people. It was a war that was unwinnable. The soldiers were just delaying the inevitable but they were dying in droves for a cause that wasn't their own.

April 10, just two days after the brutal firefight and one day after the assassination, the police hit the streets in massive force. The goal was to curb the domestic terrorism and curb it fast. The Domestic Justice Agency was still recovering from the bombing and still out of commission. Field operatives were working overtime without a base of operations and many of them were out of contact with their higher ups, many of whom were killed in the explosion. Undercover agents were suddenly faced with the idea that nobody would ever know their true identities since the records had been destroyed with the building. Efficiency dropped off significantly as everyone throughout the DJA began to wonder about their future and about the future of the Republic.

April 1976 was a turning point in the terrorism campaign inside of the Republic. Thousands of people had died in just two months, the government was crippled, and life seemed shakier than ever. The police had mobbed the streets with new officers, thousands of them, many of them green and too scared to do anything. Their weapons were inadequate against the automatic rifles that the enemy possessed and their body armor was beyond insufficient, if they ever wore any. With Good Friday around the corner and guaranteed violence between the Liberation Faction and the Red Army Faction, President Deveroe was forced into action again. Intelligence had placed high probability on an attack of some sort on Good Friday, April 16. The target was unknown but intercepted radio communications from somewhere north of Layarteb City to somewhere inside of Layarteb City talked extensively about a large attack. The call was too short for triangulation and it caught the intelligence services by surprise. They weren't looking for the communication but stumbled upon it by sheer happenstance. Now it was in the hands of the President and he had to decide what to do about it. It was only Sunday, April 11 and he had five days before it would happen. That was a lot of time but still not enough. "What do you suggest?" He asked the vice-president in a private meeting later that day.

"It's a lot of time we have. The public doesn't respond well to enforced martial law and we don't have the military forces to do that right now. We can't just shut down a borough of the city and lock it down tight. We're talking about Good Friday. Every Catholic, myself included, will be going to church. We can't tell them they have to stay home. Not even the pagans will support that."

"No. We won't."

"I always find it funny. A Catholic and a Pagan running the show."

"You and I both," they shared a short laugh. "Either way we have to do something. Our police can't handle the job themselves. They're underpowered and underarmed, still."

"We're in trouble."

"You can say that. What else do they have?"

"Nothing. That's it."

"Wonderful. Venezuela is sucking up our resources. We're going to have to pull."

"Just wait a minute. We can't abandon them there."

"No. I know that I'm not looking to abandon but it's Sunday and we're looking at Friday being an all-out street war. What other choices do we have. We need men here and we need them here fast. We can't raise up the national guard. I mean sure it'll be twenty-four hours after I give the order. That's a given. But they're too green, even for this!"

"Have you talked to President Zapata yet about this?"

"No. I don't plan on it either. That government is so corrupt. Who knows, they could be funding the damn Red Army Faction."

"This is a possibility but I doubt it."

"I do too but it's something I can't ignore. We need men here and we need them here fast."

"What about a few special forces teams?"

"We have most of them deployed into Venezuela now and the rest of them. Well. We can."

"Is it enough to get a few Delta teams up from Venezuela to here?"

"It's possible. It's very possible. Four or five?"

"Yes. Put them on the streets in civilian clothing. They're perfect at that kind of work."

"I'll make the call." The President would call up five Delta Force teams from the war and call them up fast. They would be pulled immediately from the fighting, leaving the regular forces in a bind there but if Layarteb City fell, so would they. The call up included teams one, six, eight, seventeen, and twenty-four. Eight had been phenomenally successful in their campaign of finding, capturing, and eliminating spies and other double agents on the streets of Caracas and had perfect the art of civilian-dress tactics. They were the best hope the city had without a full army division on the streets.

Monday morning rolled around with impending doom. The five special forces teams had been plucked from Venezuela and were heading back. All five of them, with their six men, had been thrown onto a C-141B Starlifter and rushed northward. It was 2,107 miles from Caracas to Layarteb City International Airport, situated on the southern coast of Long Island, in the borough of Queens and the C-141 cruised the whole way at 560 mph, making the trip in just under four hours. The flight was long enough for the thirty men of the five Delta teams to review the background prepared for them on the Red Army Faction, the Liberation Faction, their attacks, their relationship, intelligence gathered, and a brief history of what happened. For two groups that the federal government knew very little about, the brief was thick, heavy, and prepared perfectly. It was almost as if it were sitting on a shelf somewhere, dusted off, and flown down to the Delta operators before they took off on their flight. It wasn't the truth but they were prepared extremely fast, although they weren't specifically aimed at the Delta operators. The documents they had were the documents that the government itself used and just continually updated as the days went along. It showed key understanding and a grasp of what was happening but the key issues weren't resolved at all and that issue was stopping the terror and ending the two groups. It was over six hundred pages long but that wasn't a problem. Between the thirty operators, they each covered just twenty-one pages and they read them thoroughly, twice through and all of them would explain it to each other once they landed. It was a perfect way of doing it and it was more than a sufficient way of going about the problem.

When the aircraft touched down, the teams were rushed to the command post, which was situated in a downtown Manhattan warehouse. The civilian in charge of the operation was the Director of the Domestic Justice Agency and had managed to survive the bombing by being late to work that day. He would thank his daughter for the rest of his life for being particularly moody that morning before leaving for school. Now he stood with a two-way radio in one hand, his sunglasses perched on his nose, his hair grayer since the bombing, deep, bags under his eyes, a pistol at his side, and a submachine gun on his back. His jacket said "DJA" and he wasn't in the mood for nonsense anymore. He lost colleagues and friends in the explosion and he wanted revenge for them. The RAF had to pay and he said it daily, sometimes hourly. The DJA was so consumed with the RAF and the LF that it seemingly ignored the rest of its mandate. Crimes were sharply rising and already two cases against rapists, which were open and shut cases, had to be dismissed due to the ineptitude of the DJA case officers assigned to the trials. Two rapists now walked the streets, preying for their next victim. Rapists and murderers walked the streets anyway, simply because of the breakdown in the justice system. One murderer had served just three years of a life sentence and a number of rapists never got to jail. Child molestors were rampant and it seemd that the DJA was completely incapable of dealing with the issues at hand. They focused only on the terrorism and ignored criminal terrorism that preyed on unsuspecting citizens even in the most remote reachs of the Republic of Layarteb. People were angry!

The briefing was short and simple. The operators would walk the streets, keeping in touch through sophisticated microphones and earpieces that were tiny and blended in with their skin. They would walk around armed, with pistols only, simply because of the necessity of concealment but they still carried magazines everywhere they could. Each Delta team placed a designated sniper on a specific patrol route and they were armed with a bolt-action, 7.62 millimeter rifle. When the RAF and LF broke loose the snipers and Delta members would have simple rules of engagement. If the person had a gun, they were a target. Police officers would be required to wear their shields around their necks and federal officers would have to keep some form of identification visible at all times. Sure it gave them away to the enemy but friendly fire wasn't an option and, with as hectic as it was meant to be, they didn't want to take any chances. The shoot-to-kill orders came down directly from President Deveroe himself.

On Tuesday morning, the President called in the operations team of the joint task force. This included the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Delta group leader, who happened to be a major. With him came a lowely enlisted man, whom was definitely not invited. There was also the DJA Director, Marshall Haley. Several other cabinet members were present but when the delta major entered, with the lowely sergeant, everyone's eyebrows went upwards. "Major. Pleased to meet you. I don't want to be rude but this meeting is only for directors only. There will be information given that you may not want to share with everyone on your staff." President Deveroe said as he shook the major's hand after a quick salute.

"Mr. President. This man standing next to be is my executive officer of my own squad and of this operation. He may only be a sergeant but if you're his history, I suggest staying at least sixteen hundred meters away from him at all times."

"Well then. Sergeant. Pleased to meet you." They saluted and he shook his hand. "What's your name soldier?"

"Sergeant Jack Delaney sir."

"Pleased to meet you. Please. Everyone be seated." Everyone did, even the two soldiers who rigidly moved down into their seats. "Gentlemen, I trust that we are all up-to-date with the information about this week?" Everyone nodded. "Very well, then we don't have to go through it again. The RAF is a major threat and I want Good Friday to not be remembered as the Good Friday Massacre. If that happens we will have failed. Catholics all across our land will be celebrating the holy day and it is a perfect opportunity for the terrorists to attack. I would like to mandate everyone to stay in their homes but what kind of a society would we be if they dictated our daily lives. We would have failed everyone, all ninety-six million of Layarteb's citizens. What a fool's errand we undertake here.

"I trust that everyone is aware of my shoot-to-kill order. I want to explain myself. I am, sorry to say, that it has come to this level of barbarism. The RAF and LF will engage in a street war on that day and there will be casualties. I want it to end there. This will mark the day that both terrorist groups were wiped out by the Layartebian people! These terrorists represent the greatest threat to national security that this country has ever seen. That means collateral damage can be acceptable. Let me present you a scenario. If there should be an RAF terrorist with a detonator or an Uzi in his hands he could, protentially, kill as many as fifty to one hundred people, depending on what the situation is like.

"If that terrorist is in your crosshairs he must be shot. Take the shot. If there is a kid in the way. Take. The. Shot. One kid is a terrible loss but one to save one hundred is acceptable. We are dealing with an enemy that refuses to fight us properly, that refuses to fight us peacefully. The gloves have now been taken off and they are going to stay off until we have killed or imprisoned every last one of them."

"Sir? I can't agree with that order." The Major interrupted. "I could not, in good conscience, allow an innocent child to die to kill a terrorist. I cannot order my men to shoot through children or women to kill a terrorist. Sir we see it all in the time in Venezuela. The rebels will use women and children as human shields and though they are doing it against their will, in some situations, it gives the enemy a tactical advantage. My men and I have never shot through a civilian to kill a rebel, I don't care how clean or safe the shot can be. I cannot, in good conscience continue that order."

"It is not for you to decide!" President Deveroe ordered. He was a desparate man. "It is my order. Passed down to you, directly. There is no middle ground here. You are in charge, militarily, of this operation. Posse commitatus has not been suspended but you are in charge, militarily. You are an active participant in this role. Should you choose to disobey me I will see to it that you are court martialled and imprisoned for failing to follow a direct order."

"Mr. President. I do not appreciate threats at all. I do not care for your position you are still a man with a conscience. I cannot do this and I will not. I protest to this order and I will make it noted, officially, that I protest to this order and should it be that I am to be court martialled than so be it I will allow myself to be taken into custody right now but know this. My team and the twenty-nine men under my command will happily follow suit. We are not mindless murderers Mr. President. We are elite forces and as elite forces we know the difference between right and wrong. We are not crafted to obey each and every order we get and I will not obey this order."

"Then you will be court martialled!" The President roared. "Your position in this command is hereby removed."

"Very well sir. Call in the guards and I shall go. The trial will show the truth of the matter. My men are behind me." As he stood up, so did Sergeant Delaney.

"Mr. President. I concur with my commander. I will not shoot through children to accomplish a single kill."

"Mutiny!" He roared again. "That is what this is! Do you work for them? Are you terrorists?"

"No. We're soldiers." The Major replied as he stood up. "We are soldiers. If we are to kill children WE are terrorists! You are a terrorist for issuing such an order Mr. President."

"This is insubordination at its finest form." Everyone else in the room stood silent as the President and the Delta Major squared off against each other. Neither was going to budge and it would take a cooler head to prevail except that there were none in the room. The other soldier was with the Major and there was little doubt that the rest of the Deltas would be against him. The President now faced losing thirty of the finest men in the Layartebian military, the thirty men who would stop the Good Friday Massacre before it even began.

"Now gentlemen. I'm sure we can work this out. Please. Let's have a seat." The Secretary of Defense rose to say, a cooler head prevailing. It was just then that Vice-President Camilino entered the office, unaware of the preceedings.

"Gentlemen. I am sorry that I am late I..." He cut off in mid-sentence and looked over at the Delta major and the President staring face to face. "Apparently I missed more than I wished."

"Yes you did. It seems our Delta leader here doesn't agree with my order to shoot freely."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sir. I do not agree with the President's order that shooting through civilians, including children, is a necessity for this operation. I cannot concur or follow this order. If I follow that order sir I will make terrorists and butchers out of my men and I refuse to do that to them."

"Tom is this true?"

"It is. Our Delta major here doesn't believe that defense of the Republic of Layarteb is worth a few innocent lives to save millions."

"I agree with him Tom. Now let's sit down." The President was stunned. Everyone sat and the Vice President looked over at him. "If we ask them to kill civilians we are making them into terrorists. I'm sorry Tom but I just cannot agree with that order at all. I will not agree to it either."

"Thank you Mr. Vice President. It is illogical to go on such a venture. We can do our job without harming innocents. We do it daily in Venezuela. I ask for the same courtesy to be given the Layartebian people that we extend the Venezuelans."

"Very well. But you do the damn job! No fuck ups!" The President recanted, obviously stirred that the Vice President didn't agree with him. "Now let's continue. I don't care what it takes I want these attacks stopped. [i]"Major. What can you tell me about these attacks, based on what you read?"

"Based on the information presented this is going to be a major gunfight. The profiles worked on both organizations is small but it gives us key insight to what will happen. Chances are the RAF will launch an attack on something, perhaps a church or a market. Maybe a school. They want to create terror and they will do just that. The LF seemingly oppose the RAF so they'll try to prevent it although they aren't the good guys. Our best option is to ensure that neither side achieves its goals and to neutralize all threats possible. Killing them is a solution but we need interrogations. We need to take some of them alive."

"Agreed. Major, how much success do you and your men have in Venezuela?" The Vice President asked.

"When unhampered by rules of engagement, we're successful all of the time. When hampered, it drops far less."

"What do you mean Major?" The Vice President continued, seemingly stepping on the President's toes.

"Well first of all there are targets we cannot hit because the government tells us we can't but we know that they're being used by the rebels. They use schools, hospitals, and churchs to prepare their attacks but we can't go in there because it is against combat rules. Leaders within the Venezuelan government hide and protect them..."

"I will not listen to this heresay!" The President roared again. "I did not invite you back here to question my leadership in this conflict."

"And I'm not Mr. President. I'm simply answering the Vice President's question in ernest."

"Very well Major. We should end it there. Tom do you have anything else for them?"

"No. I want this to go off without a hitch or else it's your ass Major."

"That's fine sir. I accept full military responsibility for this operation. As for your civilians, I cannot accept that responsibility."

"You are in charge of this..."

"Only the military portion sir." The President was obviously steamed that a lowly major in the army was dictating policy towards him but he seemingly left it be for the time being as they left the office. He would wait until they were gone to go on a rampage about them. Once outside, the major looked at SGT. Delaney and laughed. "What a fool."

"You've got that right sir. He's going to get us all killed. Shooting women and children. He's the butcher sir."

"You're one hundred percent correct on that one Sergeant. C'mon let's get out of here before they arrest us for being human and having a conscience."

"Yes sir." The two Delta operators returned to the makeshift barracks in the command center and briefed the rest of the men on what happened with the President. Most of them laughed but they were all universally outraged at the order to shoot innocents. They weren't about that and they wouldn't go down that road even with a gun to their heads. They would have stood behind the Major if it came to it and it still might, he cautioned them, it wasn't over yet. The police were too incompetant to handle this and neither were the feds quite capable, especially in the wake of the bombing. It would be up to the Deltas who would break down into two man teams. That would put fifteen teams on the ground with six dedicated sniper teams on the roofs, armed with bolt-action M40A1 Sniper Rifles and plenty of ammunition. As for the rest of them, it was strictly .45ACP pistols. Tuesday ended as such and Friday drew twenty-four hours closer. Both the RAF and LF were preparing for the biggest day of 1976 and neither of them knew the full scope of just what was happening. None of them knew that the Deltas were now on their tails.

INTO HARM'S WAY

Part One

2nd February, 2006

The stage was filled right to left with uniforms of different color from all of the service arms. Berets were worn tight, buttons and shoes polished. Cameras whirred, clicked and flashed in succession. TV Cameras swept and flowed about the room. The audience reverently clapped as each brave serviceman stepped forward, bowing slightly before the Fuhrer, saluting and then receiving a medal.

That night two Navy SEAL's received the Medal of Honor and the Fuhrer presented two more to the families of a recon helicopter crew shot down over enemy lines and killed. The mothers weeped and the fathers held back the tears, beaming with pride at the same time.

Thomas Thorne felt really out of place, achingly so. He was on stage, next in line actually. He was the only person, besides the families of the dead pilots, that wasn't wearing a uniform. He looked out into the blinding TV Lights and searched for his wife and two kids in the audience. He couldn't see them, the light was too strong, but she was smiling and the kids were too.

As the applause dissipated for the two dead pilots the Fuhrer returned to the mic. "Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight has been filled only with military honors but the next honoree has not worn a uniform since he was an 84 Charlie Mopic...thats a combat cameraman...doing his National Army service. However, Thomas Frederick Thorne is to be honored tonight, all the same. You may not know his name, but I'm sure you remember his work. During the Gulf War Thomas put his life on the line every single day alongside the troops, photograhping the war's every move and the soldiers every expression. He brought us heart-wrenching images of villages massacred by terrorists and the compassion our brave soldiers showed to the survivors. Through his lens he captured the glory, the pain and the reality that was the War. However, towards the end of the war Thomas somehow made his way into Dubai where a Battalion of the 12th Airborne had been surrounded and pinned down under heavy fire since the first day of the War. Thomas stayed with them until the war ended, fighting side by side with those brave men, helping them stand their ground against simply impossible odds. For the bravery shown, by a civilian no less, and the reckless disregard shown for his own life I am hereby awarding Thomas the second Highest honor this nation can bestow on a civilian, the Medal of Freedom. Thomas, will you please step forward."

Thomas thought he would throw up rather than actually be able to put one leg in front of another. But on his shivering legs he made it and the Fuhrer draped the medal around his shoulders, its red, yellow and black ribbon vivid against his black suit. The Fuhrer simply said, "Well done Thomas" into his ear and he turned to look out into the crowd...


Same Day, Ruweis

"Thomas...THOMAS! Wake up will ya! THOMAS." Thomas was jolted out of the dream with a kick to the shin that sent pain coursing up his leg. He opened his eyes to see Sergeant Jesse Dunn looking down at him from the aisle. Thomas managed a smile and stretched out of his sleeping position. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"It's a good job you never fucking joined up, drill sergeants would have eaten you alive. Get up you lazy bastard, we can't all be punk ass civilians around here." Soldiers in digital desert camouflage were busy filing past Jesse down toward the front of the plane. Thomas' mouth was so dry he felt he could sand wood with his tongue. The same bloody dream had occupied his mind since he left Cape Verde. That was two days ago. A hop across to East Africa and then straight across to the Gulf had occupied the rest of the day and a half, waiting for military transports. The Medal Honors evening had been a week ago.

It was at the forefront of his mind because it was the last time his wife had been really happy. The next day he'd broke the news he was headed back to the Gulf. In the mere two weeks he'd been gone an insurgency had broken out across the southern part of what had been the terrorist state of Aazad. The area nominally belonged to the Roman Empire, but they wouldn't get a hold on things until the Hirgizstanian forces had beaten the insurgency and that wasn't looking good.

Naturally Thomas' wife had been hysterical at first and morose until he left, but she loved him and vice versa, thats what really mattered. On his second 'tour' Thomas would be freelance instead of on contract for HNC. Freelance was better for Thomas, it meat he could sell his photos to any news agency interested, more money for the risk.

Jesse had finally stopped kicking him and was making his way to the exit while Thomas took his trusty old M4A2 and rucksack and made his way to the ramp at the rear of the plane.

The first thing to hit him was the heat, far worse than anywhere in Africa. It was like constantly being in a sauna. Africa was more humid, more bearable. The Middle East was just plain shit.

The other soldiers on the plane had finished stretching and were lugging their weapons and kit bags towards waiting trucks. But Jesse was already going the opposite direction. He had spotted the familiar sight of Colonel, now Lt. General, Metaxas by his HummVee. Thomas followed him.

Metaxas, true to form, was leaning on the front fender, cap on at a jaunty angle and a fat cigar stuck in the side of his mouth. He nodded at Jesse and Thomas, no words needed to be said just then.

It wasn't until they were in the relative comfort of Metaxas' air conditioned office that he finally spoke. The cigar never left his mouth. "I'd welcome you back Thorne, but seems to me like you never really left."

"I wouldn't say that Col-...I mean Lt. General Metaxas."

Metaxas' olive skinned face broke into a broad smile, "Well I would fuckin' say it Thomas, I would. In any case its good to see your goofy ass again. Medal of Freedom an' all. You know it don't mean shit here in the army, course I reckon Jesse already gave you that memo."

Jesse grinned widely, showing a missing tooth near the front. Thomas said, "Oh...only several times. But still Aran, I hear your getting out of here tonight, hence there is bugger all in your so called office."

Metaxas looked at his cigar, pondering something. "Uhm-Hm. Finally getting out of this shit. Me an' my boys. Glorious 12th Airborne and all that. Big party waiting. Plus my wife, my kids, my car, not to mention the bills. Gonna be good."

"Yes, and while your safe at home with your car and all that...what are me and Jesse supposed to do?"

Jesse looked inquisitively at Metaxas, who replied, "Jesse's in the Army, he'll get his marching orders. I, however, happen to know your orders in advance" Metaxas winked and grinned, "Jesse you are to accompany Mr. Thorne here for the duration of his stay. The Army seems to have taken a shine to him, you see. But, BS aside, that is your orders Jesse and as far as what happens when I'm gone, well the Air Cavalry are taking over Command of Ruweis, with their armored cousins backing them up. Changeover ceremony is 00:00 hours tonight. Then I'm on the bird at 02:00 and back in Greece the day after."

The men sat awkwardly silent for a moment before Metaxas broke the silence, "Three of my boys bought it yesterday, plus six from some Logistics outfit. Ambush on the highway between here and the city of Ruweis. Bastard terrorists penetrated the Green Zone twice yesterday, killed four civilians with a truck bomb. We might have won the war...but this battle's just beginning."

OOC: Good to see another storyline. I have to get back on mine and continue 1976.

INTO HARM'S WAY

MAPS

Ruweis (and Surrounding Area):

http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c88/Karl187/RuweisLargecopy.jpg

Ruweis (Green Zone-Hirgizstanian Military Area):

http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c88/Karl187/Ruweiscopy.jpg

Ruweis (City):

http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c88/Karl187/RuweisCiviliancopy.jpg

INTO HARM'S WAY

Part Two

4th February, 2006-75 Miles South of Ruweis

Mid afternoon was both the best and worst time to travel in the desert. The best part was the heat mirages meant seeing into the distance was difficult, especially if you were travelling with the sun behind you. Another positive was that the sun had usually burned off any trace of cloud by mid-day and the glare was almost unbearable for anyone without sunglasses.

Of course, negatively, it was scorching hot and a small convoy braking down in the middle of the day would not be very good for anyone involved. The heat made people irritable, another problem, and it could also make one sleepy. The weather was both friend and foe.

The undersize Company consisted of 15 vehicles, including two HummVees, six Cougar 6x6, four HEMTT trucks and three M113A6 IFV's. There were just over one hundred men spread between the various vehicles, India Company, 3rd Cavalry.

The area directly south of Ruweis was notorious for terrorist activites because of the many rolling dunes that could conceal vehicles off the main highway, a big target for IED's, DEW's and running attacks. The highway was kept open by constant patrols and was known as 'Dodg'em Highway'.

India Company were returning from a week long mission at the border where insurgents, fleeing the Eurasians, were crossing the border every day, shooting at the civilian towns along the way. India Company had organized another Roving Militia group, mostly made up of former Elephantum Army veterans, that would patrol the area, report in and generally police their own area. The militias had been very effective so far.

The lead HummVee of the convoy carried the Lt. Colonel, his Sergeant Major and their gunner. Lt. Colonel Singer had taken the Battle Network computer off its dashboard mount and was busy looking around the area using a feed from the cypher drone that followed them. He could see his own convoy, highlighted with a blue letter 'F' over each vehicle.

On the corner of the screen, in front and behind a natural berm something moved. Not wind, not an animal. He zoomed in and gasped, a terrorist on his knees had an RPG. It fired. He saw it close up on the screen, the smoke shoot out the back and the fire trail take off. He peeled his eyes from the screen and saw the projectile scream toward him through the windscreen. It got closer and its green tip was the last thing he saw.

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

2 Hours Later

India Company had survived, with five men dead, including everyone in the CO's HummVee, and six wounded. The attack had come out of nowhere, as usual.

The CO's HummVee, despite its heavy protection, had taken the RPG through the front window, shredding the CO and the Sergeant Major who was driving, while sending shrapnel through the interior, severing an artery in the Gunner's leg.

The blown up HummVee brought the rest of the convoy to a screeching halt and before any vehicle had a chance to manoeuvre an IED had blown a Cougar onto its side and several more RPG's struck more vehicles, creating absoloute chaos on the highway. A couple of civilian cars had been caught up in the fray, but the civilians had survived.

The new CO for Hirgizstanian Forces in Ruweis (COHFORRUW), General Joe Kintaga, had met the battered convoy as it enetered the Green Zone, cursing the fact that the HummVees were the weak point, getting people killed left, right and centre. The Cougar that had been hit by the IED came back to the Zone under its own power, the injuries of the crew being nothing more than a broken arm and headaches all round. They needed to replace the Hummers with those. Kintaga fumed the replacements weren't coming quick enough.

The only good thing to have come from the attack was that, with the Cypher overhead, an enterprising specialist in an overflying E-5A was able to track the enemy vehicles, hidden in the dunes, back to a small village. The place was called El Aasa and had several intel files on it due to the fact that several attacks during the War had happend near or around the town and the Roving Militias reported that most, if not all, the population were harbouring the insurgency.

Kintaga's orders were simple, "Flatten it. Make an example."

April 15, 1976 - 11:30 p.m. [EST]
Task Force Spectre Command Center, Layarteb City

Task Force Spectre was the codename given to the combined effort by local and federal law enforcement officials to fight the street war the RAF and LF planned to wage on Good Friday, which was only an hour and a half away. Intelligence sources discovered that the battle wouldn't be waged until well after the sun came up, giving them more time to prepare within the abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn's industrial zone. Despite the Republic's posse comitatus statutes prohibiting the military from law enforcement, the thirty Delta operators were, in essence, black forces. They rarely wore conventional uniforms and rarely used conventional tactics. They were created and trained to improvise so when they stepped into the command center they weren't from the military, they were simple SWAT officers, all thirty of them.

The Delta leader, a major, paced back and fourth as he reviewed street diagrams, listening to rock music on a radio not far from where he stood. His team consisted of four other commissioned officers and twenty-five enlisted men, including his own personal XO, Sergeant Jack Delaney. They cleaned and checked out their weapons as they studied diagrams and photographs. They were elite and this was why. They would be walking around mostly with pistols but out of all thirty of them, they would have six snipers teams, SGT. Delaney being in one of them and he had just finished cleaning the barrel of his M40A1 Sniper Rifle. In addition to the six sniper teams, there would be nine teams on the ground, everyone operating in two man groups. Despite the sniper-spotter usage on the two-man sniper teams, both men would have rifles, putting, in reality, twelve sniper rifles spread out on six buildings. Those on the ground would be carrying .45ACP pistols.

Hours counted down in their heads as they went about their routines. A cloud of thick cigarette smoke filled the warehouse and it was tough to tell where anybody was from a distance. When Special Agent John Raus came into the military wing he came in on a cloud of smoke, something out of a phatasm movie. "Major. If I may have a word?" He called out across the roof, over the rock music. He was in charge of the civilian detachment, which included hundreds of police officers, SWAT teams, undercover agents, and federal agents. "Major?" He didn't hear him but he heard him the second time.

"Yes Special Agent?"

"May I have a word with you?"

"Certainly. What is it you want?" He stood in the center of the room.

"In private please?"

"Special Agent. My men and I are equals. Rank means nothing to us. Anything that you and I can discuss can be discussed in their presence. Is that understood?"

"Yes." Seeing that he wouldn't budge at all, the agent took a seat at a large table in the middle of the room. He lit a cigarette. "I want to thank you for standing up to the President."

"I'm sorry?"

"About shooting civilians."

"I wasn't aware that got out?"

"It did. I want to thank you for standing up to him. My agency wasn't powerful enough to."

"I'm sorry?"

"The director of the DJA agreed with the President. I was ordered to do the same thing and though I refused it is slightly different for us, politically. So when you refused it trickled down. My men do not have to shoot civilians either."

"Good. We're not terrorists."

"Neither are we. If they have us shooting civilians we're no different than terrorists."

"I agree. You do realize though that civilians WILL be harmed. We cannot do anything about that. Some will be caught in the crossfire. My men are elite but this isn't a combat situation. This is a crowded city that isn't under war conditions."

"I am aware. I have EMT teams on stand by."

"Good. Good. Tomorrow won't be a day. It'll be a nightmare."

"I agree. We're looking at hundreds of RAF and LF terrorists duking it out on our streets."

"Do they know we know?"

"Probably. They're going to do it anyway."

"How would they know?"

"Corruption."

"I'm hearing that word all too much. While we're in Venezuela we hear spotty information. At best. I wasn't expecting to come back to a country so enamored with corruption that I question whether or not these terrorists have legitimacy in their claims." The special agent sat up and put down the cigarette.

"Major. I'm not defending them. The leaders. But they are the leaders. If they are to be removed it has to be done properly."

"It seems that the level of corruption ensures that won't happen. John. I am going to follow my orders to the letter but I don't disagree with the aims of these groups. I don't agree with their goals, especially the RAF. Communism is no respectable system. But this government has let us down. It has let its own people down. Something has to be done." The agent just looked at him, pondering what he said...

April 16, 1976 - 8:00 a.m. [EST]
Manhattan Island, Layarteb City

It was Good Friday, one of the holiest Catholic holidays, the day when Jesus was crucified. Churches all around the Republic of Layarteb were taking in patrons left and right. Mass attendance was expected in record numbers and no warning of the terrorist attack had filtered down to the people. The government wanted it to be a surprise to the bad guys. They wanted to capture them all and bring them to justice, not warn then and let them change their plans and tactics. SGT. Delaney and his spotter, another sergeant both took up a position on top of an apartment building. They had rigged the door shut with a Flashbang grenade. If someone came up, they would be warned by the exploding grenade. Neither of them would be facing the door and it was out of direct earshot from them so they wouldn't succomb to the effects but they would hear it go off and they would be able to act.

SGT. Delaney had his M40A1 Sniper Rifle sitting next to him as he and his men stayed high above the ground. His spotter had a Heckler & Koch G3A4 battle rifle, which fired the powerful NATO 7.62mm round versus the 5.56mm round used by the Republican military. The reasoning behind using the 7.62mm weapons in their situation was because the 5.56mm rounds had a tendency to overpenetrate and they wanted as few civilian casualties as they could. Both of them had M1911A1 .45ACP caliber pistols, enough to drop anyone with a single shot. "You ready?" He asked his spotter who nodded. Both of them had sunglasses on and boonie hats. Both of them were also chewing gun but neither blew any bubbles. "Alright. Let's get ready." He looked at a pair of pictures on the ground. One was of Justin Amar, the leader of the Liberation Faction and the other was Carl Weathers, the leader of the Red Army Faction. Both of them were the prime suspects and both of them were to be shot on sight. The government cared little about capture of these two men, it wanted both of them dead.

"Snake Two. Snake Two. Report." The radio came alive and SGT. Delaney picked up the two-way radio as the radio call ended.

"Go ahead Major. Snake Two here."

"What do you got?"

"All quiet. Nothing yet."

"Keep a sharp eye. We're all silent everywhere."

"Roger that sir." He put down the radio and looked through the scope of his rifle, which gave him a powerful, 10x zoom. He had a suppressor screwed to the front of the rifle to hide the muzzle flash and reduce the noise level. All of the Delta operators did. They waited and waited as the sun rose overhead, a warm breeze passing over the island. Then they heard the first gunshots echo from far away. It was a burst of automatic fire, possibly from an AK-74. "There we go. Keep a lookout. We've got to defend that church." SGT. Delaney and his men were tasked with defending the largest church in Layarteb City, Saint Patrick's Cathedral, located at 50th Street and Fifth Avenue. Hundres were flocking into the church, the perfect target for the revolutionary forces.

"We've got gunshots! This is Snake Four. Gunshots at our location. They're duking it out!" The radio came alive here and there as positions reported in that fighting had begun. SGT. Delaney's position was quiet, for now but as churchgoers filed in by the dozens, he couldn't help but think, when it would happen there. Police officers, both local and federal, were duking it out already with the two groups and the Delta operators, acting completely clandestinely because of the Posse Comitatus Act, engaging just as well. By 08:30, all positions would be under fire.

Civilians scurried around in panic as members of the Liberation Faction square off on the streets with members of the Red Army Faction. Nobody had yet to see either Carl Weathers or Justin Amar, the two most wanted men in Layarteb. With gunshots making up the background, Layarteb City went from its peaceful state to a frightening shooting gallery. When it was obvious that both factions were also packing hand grenades, the stakes went up significantly. The Red Army Faction planned to turn Good Friday into a bloody day by bombing churches and various other places throughout the city where civilians were expected to be present in high numbers. Because of their inherently communist tendencies, they were atheists by nature and blowing up churches didn't weigh in on their conscience.

The gunfight continued in the streets as the Liberation Faction effectively kept the Red Army Faction from detonating their bombs. Because of the way things were though, the police and federal officers engaged even those defending the city. Some would be arrested, many wounded but the bulk of them would be killed. By 09:00, the gunfighting had continued without end and bodies lined the streets. Paramedics were forced to stay back while the bullets flew around the city. By their best estimates, in just 48 minutes of fighting there were at least 400 casualties, many of them Red Army Faction members. The Delta snipers had over 50 confirmed kills by then and had yet to lose anyone themselves. On the ground, the other Delta operators made use of special tactics and extreme skill to take out their targets. They had picked up the weapons of their enemies throughout the fight and brought an equally painful amount of firepower against them. SWAT teams used assault rifles as well and tear gas was filling the air around the engagement zones.

Then, at 09:05 hours, Snake Two reported something that was needed. "Major! Major! This is Snake Two. I've confirmed Justin Amar. He is at our location," he said into the radio as he squeezed the trigger and killed a Red Army Faction bomber carrying a backpack full of dynamite. "Advise."

"Roger that Snake Two. Take him down." SGT. Delaney looked through his scope and put the crosshairs right on Amar's chest. He was hiding behind a wall, shooting out from its cover against RAF fighters. SGT. Delaney was one of the best shots and it was evident. He moved the crosshairs slightly up on Amar's body, to his head, and squeezed the trigger. The round let his barrel at 2,800 feet per second and twisted through the air until it hit Amar's forehead. He was killed instantly and the body fell limp against the wall. "Major. This is Snake Two. Target is down. I repeat VIP Two is down."

"Good job Sergeant! Now let's push this revolt back!"

"Yes sir!" The gunbattle continued and though few except for the Delta operators knew that the Liberation Faction lost its leader, everyone seemed to have a new and sudden fury about them. The RAF and LF fighters fired more accurately and more powerfully against one another and the police were becomming far more effective.

The last gunshots echoed in Layarteb City at 10:39 in the morning. The scene was gruesome and paramedics were finally allowed to survey the scene. It seemed as if the number of bodies was uncountable, purely uncountable. Civilians took the hardest toll with 829 wounded and 229 dead. Seventy-three police officers were wounded and thirteen of them were killed. Then, out of the revolutionaries, a total of 600 were wounded and in custody and another 439 were killed. Between the two groups, the RAF lost 255 people while the LF lost 184 to fatalities. The remaining 600 taken into custody or rushed to the hospital included 550 RAF members and 50 LF members. The LF was extremely hard hit. They lost their leader and 59% of their force in the single battle. No longer would they be very effective in stopping the RAF, whose forces still numbered over 6,500. None of the Delta operators were wounded or killed and they achieved the largest number of kills. Unfortunately, many stray bullets from both sides happened to find civilians. The Delta operators had killed several civilians but not by choice. Not one of their soldiers or even the federal law officers had put a civilian in their sights, even if they were in the way. None of them respected the President's order, which was what allowed Carl Weathers to escape the scene. When presented with after-action reports, the President would be furious about this, fire the special agent in charge, and put the Delta Major in his own crosshairs.

April 24, 1976 - 8:00 p.m. [AST]
20 mi SW of Caracas, Venezuela

The Liberation Faction was a non-entity anymore. They were largely defeated by the Good Friday Massacre, which was being heralded as a tactical victory for the Layartebian Republic but a strategic victory for the Red Army Faction. Despite the losses to the RAF, they succeeded in terror. They didn't achieve any of their intended detonation goals and none of their targets had been destroyed by bombs but Carl Weathers escaped and the leadership of the LF was dead or captured. They would cease functioning shortly thereafter.

Only four days after the battle, the Delta groups were rushed back to Venezuela. New fighting had erupted in Caracas and they were required to stablize the situation. Layartebian military units found themselves in an intense gunfight with Venezuelan rebels who, seemingly, popped up from underneath and behind them. Poor leadership in the Venezuelan Federal Army allowed the rebels to get into ambush positions and by April 22, the Layartebian forces had been pushed out of a previous controlled sector of southwest Caracas. They would eventually be driven twenty miles south by April 24.

As SGT. Delaney squeezed the trigger of his assault rifle, he shouted out orders. The Major had been hit by a stray bullet in his arm and SGT. Delaney was providing cover for him as his men dragged him to the safety of their HMMWVs, which had been ambushed along a road heading towards Caracas. They were moving in to provide a rear flank for Layartebian military assets leaving the contested sector when Venezuelans shot LAWs and other rocket-propelled grenades against their four vehicle column. SGT. Delaney and the major were in the rear two vehicles and the front two were instantly destroyed by the HEAT-equipped rockets, which had little to no effort penetrating the non-existing armor of the HMMWVs. With the rear two vehicles and the major's Delta team still intact, they stopped and opened fired with their roof mounted weapons, which included one M2HB Heavy Machine Gun and one Mark 19 Grenade Launcher. The first ambush site was destroyed by the combined fire but when the major was hit, they decided that snipers were out there.

When they managed to get back to the HMMWVs, they pushed onward and drove through the ambush, firing their weapons accurately at Venezuelan positions and eventually achieved a position on the rear flank of the Layartebian Army but at a loss of eight men, all Delta operators, from the first two vehicles. The major was alright and the wound he received was enough to require minor surgery to remove the bullet, which did not exit his arm. He would be able to continue fighting but the wound hit too close to home. Investigation later showed that several commanders of the Venezuelan Federal Army were paid off by the ambushers and allowed to get into position to attack the Layartebian Army as they evacuated. They never expected the four Delta vehicles and reacted on impulse. Had they ignored them, they would have been in a position to attack the convoy of vehicles as they escaped the city. The major and his Delta squad would eventually locate and detain the three commanders. After exhaustive interrogation, they were shot, execution style and their bodies were left for the Venezuelan rebels to see.

Since the Good Friday Massacre, there had been no terrorist actions by the Red Army Faction. President Deveroe gave several speeches about how the effort of the law enforcement officers on that day stopped terrorism in the Republic of Layarteb. He was set to give another speech in Central Park on May 21. The intelligence services of the Republic of Layarteb weren't convinced though. They knew Carl Weathers and his RAF were out there and estimated at least 6,000+ of their army remaining. In secret meetings, the last surviving members of the LF decided to dissipate into the crowds. The RAF knew who they were though and had begun targeted hits on the last surviving members although these acts, albeit terrorist in nature given the war between the two groups, went down as simple homicides or accidents.

War continued to rage in Venezuela and citizens protested daily now to return the troops home. Casualties had surpassed the 27,000 mark for dead on May 20 and over 20,000 had been wounded in action. Those numbers were way too high and the people knew it. President Deveroe made no move to limit the war unlike he had said in the past. He claimed he was always in disagreement with former President Gephard about the involvement of Layartebian forces in Venezuela but action never seemed to happen. He began his election bid for the end of 1976 on the basis that the Venezuelan War had to end but that Layartebian forces couldn't just leave. He pushed for a withdrawal timeline that saw the total withdrawal of all Layartebian forces by January 1, 1977. Behind the scenes, he made sure the bill never got passed by the legislature.

As his limousines drove down the crowded streets with police escort, the terrorism campaign resurged. At 12:05 p.m., the first bombs went off inside of two retail stores. Both of them were located in the richer district of Manhattan and were each only about ten pounds of Semtex but they ripped through the stores like a wildfire through a dry forest. Windows were blown out and the ceiling caved in on one of them as walls were thrown away. Dozens of people were killed and those who survived were all injured and maimed many missing limbs. The President wasn't notified of these until he arrived at the park to give his speech, which would honor and herald some of the law enforcement officers who took part in the daring attempt to stomp out the terrorists. Suddenly, his mood changed and he cursed the Delta Major who refused to shoot through a civilian and kill Carl Weathers. It wasn't over though.

At 12:10 and 12:15, respectively, two more bombs went off, one at a bus stop and the other in the subway. These were much larger bombs, twenty pounds each. At the bus stop, the bomb had been placed into a package and left there, detonated remotely as a bus stopped to let off passengers and take on new ones. The blast ripped the bus in half and nearly flipped it over onto its side. The shock waves rocketed through the area and left dozens more dead and dozens more wounded. In the subway, the blast was even more catastrophic. The bomb had been placed in the center of a seven car subway train and detonated as the train came in for a stop. It split the train clean in half and took out half of the platform instantly. As the subway cars were thrown through the air, they landed on top of people who managed to survive the initial blast. The President began his speech as the second of these two bombs went off and reporters were hardly paying attention as their camera men and audio technicians, communicating through wireless radio began to talk about the bombings. Before President Deveroe could finish his speech, reporters were fighting each other to ask the first question. When asked it sounded like this, "Mr. President. You just spoke about an end to terrorism. In the past fifteen minutes four bombs have gone off, killing over a hundred people. Surely you're privy to this information, I can see your staff talking about it right now. The first ones went off before you stepped up to this podium. You stood there and lied to us Mr. President. Please explain that to us?" Taken aback by the sheer form of disrespect from a veteran reporter, President Deveroe merely looked at the reporter and left, a look of pure disgust on his face.

As he walked away, he muttered to his senior security guard, "I want him killed..." Whether he was talking about the reporter, the Delta Major, or Carl Weathers, nobody knew but a camera caught it and after a lot of analysis, it would be played on the 6:00 p.m. evening news with the words written in, precisely as he had said them. His ratings plummeted to under 17% in just a few hours.

The four bombs were aimed directly at hurting President Deveroe and they did. When the smoke cleared, another eighty civilians were dead and two hundred and sixteen were wounded. Carl Weathers had a statement hand delivered to the New York Times and it ran in the newspaper the next morning. "Terrorism is not us and it is not our goal. Our desire is awareness. President Deveroe and our government is illegitimate. They wage war on civilians in Venezuela. They take away our freedom. They are corrupt and they are criminals. Our desire is that the Layartebian citizen sees this and acts against this. This November, our election will see a removal of these corrupt leaders from office. It must be done with a vote and you must make that vote." It was a strange statement to make but people read it and understood it, to a degree. Though they disliked the RAF, they hated the government even more now. They saw the government as a reason for the terrorism. Still, they had no warm feelings for the RAF. They wanted an end to both the corruption and the terrorism.

June 5, 1976 - 1:00 p.m. [EST]
RAF Headquarters

"Well things have finally begun to change," Carl Weathers said as he paced around the room. "The government has announced that, by the end of this year, we will have no more soldiers in Venezuela fighting that war. It took a lot of effort. I'm glad all of you are still alive to share this momentous occasion. There's a road ahead though. Our bombings and assassinations have killed a lot of people. It is true that many of them are innocents but a few must die to save the lives of the many and that is our market. We are here to save the majority of the populace from this government, which is certainly not a legitimate one.

"We must continue our campaign. The violence cannot stop or ebb. Our targets remain the corrupt leaders of this country. The Republic of Layarteb rose from the ashes of terrible strife and war to become a great country, the greatest democracy in the world. Then things changed. After the Sevaran War in the 1940s and the creation of the nuclear bomb, our country descended through periods of great prosperity and terrible strife. We watched as our leaders went, progressively, from intelligent to inept, which is what we have now.

"President Deveroe is nothing more than a fool. He is no leader. He is only a crook. He takes the taxes and throws them away while our education system crumbles, our borders remain unchecked, our language is destroyed by foreigners, and while our freedoms are taken away to preserve whatever sense of security President Deveroe thinks we need. We would be secure if we weren't sending over a billion dollars a month to Venezuela. We would be secure if our borders were secure, if we had borders and not picket fences. We would be secure if our leaders didn't shred our precious constitution each and every day to make a new law only to collect more money for their own greed.

"What money really goes to the Venezuelans is a margin of what we send. What little gets to Venezuela is pilfered before hand by our leaders and then by their leaders. This war is a war with no end in sight. Our leaders and our top generals see to it that we are outmatched every time we fight. They are not hurt when our soldiers come home in flag draped coffins or when they are put on television, savagely beaten and executed. They don't care that our mothers and our brothers weep every day for a war that is not our own, that we cannot be allowed to win simply by the corruption and treason portrayed by our government.

"That is why today, June 5, I announce a new era for the Republic of Layarteb. I am hereby proclaiming the current government of the Republic of Layarteb to be criminals. Unfortunately, our own justice system is so perverted by corruption that no leader would be sentenced, if a trial held at all. We must eliminate all of them. We, the Red Army Faction, offer them two options. They can resign and go into exile, leaving our country forever or they can stay in power and be eliminated by us, the protector of the people. Your job will be to see to it that our leaders are tried for their crimes or punished if trials will not do justice.

"Our target is not the common citizen of Layarteb. Our target is the government and its criminals who commit treason and blame you, the average citizen for it. They say you cannot do this or you cannot do that because a terrorist could think of that idea. We have thought of every idea. There is no sense being punished for that which you have no control over and our government only wants control, control over you.

"Today you have a choice to make. You can sit down and relax, you can continue your lives. You can proceed along on your path of self-destruction and watch as your country crumbles around you. You can live in fear that when you children walk to school a molester will abduct them, rape them, brutally murder them, and if that molester is even caught, he'll only do a year or two, get out, on good behavior, and do it again! That is your choice if you so choose it. Your other choice is the path of relief.

"You can call to action. You can rise up. You have the power. Not them! You are the masses, they are the minority! Rise up. Bring them to justice. Support legitimate vigilante groups, who seek to legally punish those who rule us. When our courts cease to do their jobs, as they have done so already, we must punish them. We must use the law they refuse to enforce, the law they simply write about, wasting our tax dollars on their new cars or their secret service details.

"Good luck in your endeavor and I hope that your choice is our choice."

The video aired on national television, much to the chagrin of President Deveroe who tried, like all fury, to censor it. News stations wouldn't budge though. They revolted and so were the people. Since the President's flub on May 21, his ratings were at an all time low. People protested daily to the government, to the war, to the terrorism. The Red Army Faction was nobody's favorite but they were sparking more than just awareness. They engendered hatred for themselves as much as they did for the government. The people hated both of the groups, whether they were the government or the terrorists. Revolution was brewing in the Republic and the announcement to bring the troops home by the end of 1977 had nothing to do with protests or action groups. It had everything to do with fear. The government feared being overrun and they feared widespread revolt.

Inside of the Republic of Layarteb, there were over ninety-five million citizens and, at last count, 75% of them were unsupportive of the government as a whole. Fewer than 15% supported both the President and the legislature. Fewer than 5% supported the judicial system. The seeds for revolt were being planted and the government was walking into each and every trap. Now that the troops were coming home it would be to reinforce the government, to protect them against their own creation.

June 13, 1976 - 2:56 p.m. [EST]
Baltimore, Maryland

It had been four months, to the minute since the RAF campaign began. It left 2,400 dead and 4,000 wounded, which was quite a lot of people for a single group that consisted of less than 8,000 people. By June 13, their numbers had descended to between 5,500 and 6,000 although there was no confirmed proper estimate. All of the casualties had been in Layarteb City, the Republic's capital. The city was gripped with terror and fear and the Red Army Faction more than achieved their objectives in that respect. The government was pulling out of Venezuela but only because the government saw the unrest at home as a catalyst for a popular revolt. Despite the overall incompetency of the federal government, they were listening to their analysts, to some regard. All of them had agreed that, should things continue, revolution in the Republic of Layarteb was a future reality.

With all measures and efforts concerned with safety in Layarteb City, it was all too easy to ignore the remaining cities of the Republic. Maryland was to the extreme south and bordered Colodia. Sixty-eight point three square miles of Maryland was under Colodian control and that was Washington City, a city with ten million people. A sort of free border rested between Maryland and the city. Baltimore, a city just thirty-two miles from Washington City was bigger, at 92.1 mi² but smaller in population. There were slightly over five million people in Baltimore and it was a busy city, acting a sort of southern hub between the Republic and Colodia.

The Red Army Faction was a group consisting of a clear cut chain of command and that chain of command branched out in early June 1976 to a smaller wing of about forty terrorists. They relocated down to Baltimore and aimed at disrupting trade between Colodia and the Republic. It was a double edged sword to the Republic. On one end it would cost the Republic tons of money in disrupted trade and, on the other end, it would create a fear in Colodians about their northern neighbor, leading to a decrease in travel and tourism, as well as economics. They had a surefire plan to doing it and it would shake the city of Baltimore at the same time that Layarteb City was struck four months earlier except, with a much larger "bang."

They had two targets. The first was at the Port of Baltimore, where ships were docked offloading and on-loading cargo. Their main target was a Colodian medium-range tanker ship, about 40,000 tons. It held about 150,000 barrels of oil and it had come from the Colodian oil fields in the Caribbean Sea. It sat in dock and was going to be offloaded that evening, after paperwork was cleared up and the tariffs paid. The second target was Baltimore Harbor Tunnel, a pair of two-lane tunnels that ran underneath the Patapsco River. The RAF group had carefully watched traffic into and out of the tunnel, including traffic at the toll booths leading into and out of the tunnel. It was a §0.25 toll.

Cautiously, the RAF team split into four groups, each consisting of four people. The remaining twenty-four RAF terrorists stayed far away, ready to escape if the operation went sour. The first two groups, using illegal documents, bypassed security at the harbor and got on board the vessel with a large duffel bag. Inside of it they had sixty pounds of Semtex explosive blocks that they planned to detonate on board the vessel using a radio detonator. They appeared to be inspectors and walked freely onto the vessel and below its decks. As they did that, RAF workers at the toll booth, dressed as police men stopped a pair of tanker trucks moving into the tunnel and demanded to see paperwork. As they did, two police officers "inspecting" the vehicles carefully placed blocks of Semtex on the tanker trucks. It was sheer coincidence that they got two at the same time. They were planned on one but brought along enough for two, just in case. When they cleared the trucks to leave, they walked back to the tooth booths and waited. The detonators on the trucks were different than just simple radio detonators. They sent a signal to a device carried by one of the terrorists. When the signal got too weak, they went off, an ingenious method to ensure "safe distance." Each truck was carrying just under 12,000 gallons of fuel oil and the radio detonator would work once they got to about midway into the tunnel.

At 2:56 p.m., the respective explosions took place. At the Port of Baltimore, the tanker ship was rocked by the initial explosion, which ignited the massive stores of petroleum inside of the vessel. It instantly caused ruptures and breaks throughout the hull of the fifteen year old vessel. The vessel wasn't in poor repair but it was never meant to withstand such a force. It was such that, when the explosion happened, it produced a 2.4 reading on the Richter scale and caused the hull of the vessel to shatter into two, jagged, burning segments. One segment sunk into the harbor, although, even after it hit bottom, it still stuck out of the water, burning still. Oil spilled into the harbor and burned. The force and heat of the explosion destroyed the entire port terminal that the tanker was docked to, causing secondary fires throughout the port. In the tunnel, the two trucks exploded with such a force that not only did it collapse the tunnel in four places but it melted much of the interior of it, cars included. When the day was over, the two explosions raised the death toll by 380 to 2,780 and the wounded toll to 5,000.

Now the RAF had struck to the Republic's weaker southern end. Baltimore was in shock and terrorism knew no bounds. Its effects were largely exacerbated by the media. Colodian citizens and leaders feared terrorism to the north and Washington City was soon to be closed off to the Republic indefinitely. Things couldn't have gotten any worse but then, June 14 was right around the corner and the RAF planned something big.

June 15, 1976 - 12:00 p.m. [EST]
Layarteb City, New York

"Gentlemen. Please be seated." President Deveroe said as he walked into the main briefing room. The various cabinet secretaries had been arranged and were seated when he gave the order to begin the meeting. "This attack on Baltimore was not foreseen. Can anyone tell me why?" He asked calmly but nobody spoke. "Why is it that after four months we have not penetrated into the Red Army Faction? Why do we know nothing about them except what they tell us? We aren't intercepting telephone conversations. We aren't arresting them. What ones we have arrested from the Good Friday massacre. What have they told us?"

"Mr. President. I'm afraid they gave us little that we can go on. We have hundreds of them in custody from the battle but we have hundreds of different stories. They're well experienced..."

"They're terrorists. I don't care what they say!" He scolded the Attorney General as he forced him to sit back down. "We have a body count nearing three thousand! We have over five thousand wounded! In just four months. We are brining the army home to fight these murderous bastards. When can we expect enough forces to begin a campaign AGAINST the RAF?"

"Not for another month."

"Another month!" The Secretary of Defense lowered his head. "This is the best we can do? This cabinet is lagging behind. We have to wait a month before we can fight them? They blew up the DJA headquarters. We still haven't found all the bodies and we haven't rebuilt any infrastructure. Now we lost a tunnel and half of a port. The Colodian government is calling me up every five minutes asking me what I am going to do about their lost oiler and what can I do but tell him we're working on it? They've shut down the goddamn border and you're sitting here telling me another month or that they revealed nothing? What good have we accomplished here? None! The Red Army Faction continues to terrorize us and they're gaining popular support. Yes they are. Don't shake your head! What do you want to say?" The Attorney General stood up again.

"Mr. President, the RAF is not gaining popular support. They are a terrorist group that our people hate more than any animosity they may have towards our administration?"

"Our administration? You mean mine. I'm getting no support here in this cabinet. That is why, effective immediately, I am asking all of you to resign." The room erupted in an uproar. "Do not disrespect me. I am the goddamn President! You have failed, in these four months, to produce anything of value. I am standing here, giving speeches based on information that you provide me only to be embarassed on national television and radio. You will be replaced immediately and I demand that you provide your successors with whatever information you have. This is a national security threat and you have not performed adequately!"

The media stations ran the story immediately when it broke that President Deveroe had fired the whole cabinet. Analysts and commentators agreed that the decision was beyond idiocy. In the middle of a crisis, the worst thing to do would be to fire the whole leadership but that was what he did and, in doing so, alienated at least five percent of the population. The cabinet secretaries weren't uneducated men and women. They were, for the most part, well respected in academia and suddenly dissent swelled up in the elite of the Republic of Layarteb. As it grew and public dissent grew, the only thing supporting the President, thus far, was the army but even their support was waning.

June 18, 1976 - 4:00 p.m. [EST]
Stewart Air Force Base, New York

The C-141B Starlifter transport touched down in the middle of the largest thunderstorm of 1976. It streaked down the runway and stopped short of the final taxiway, where it turned off and headed towards a hangar in the far distance. Overhead, thunder cracked and lightning streaked and the sky was practically black even though it was the middle of the afternoon. A tornado watch had been issued for the whole area and that wasn't a joke either. The storm clouds overhead were producing intense vortices. The C-141 was carrying 154 Layartebian soldiers, including the Major's Delta group, including SGT. Delaney, who was to be promoted to Staff Sergeant upon his return. For their actions, the Major and his whole Delta team were being awarded with up to eight Distinguished Service Crosses, thirteen Silver Stars, eleven Bronze Stars, four Purple Hearts, and eight Army Commendation Medals. The unit had served the Republic of Layarteb with great honor and great care since they landed in Venezuela. SGT. Delaney, alone, had 84 confirmed sniper kills in Venezuela. They had a mission success rate of 98% and were the most successful unit in the entire Layartebian Army. They guided aircraft to targets and called down some of the first precision bombs of the world. They were called Paveway bombs and by the time they boarded the plane, the first Paveway II bombs were being dropped in 500, 1,000, and 2,000 pound variants. They would be significantly more accurate than the Paveway I generation.

"So Major, what are you going to do now that we're released?" SGT. Delaney had said the plane began to taxi. "Coming to my wedding?"

"Sergeant? I wouldn't miss it for the world. I hope you're going to take care of that wife of yours."

"You bet sir."

"Glad to hear it. I might be giving you a call in a couple of months."

"What about sir?"

"Sergeant. I've been thinking. Our government is weak. They're corrupt. They send us to die to line their pockets. Something has to be done. They cannot control terrorism nor can they effectively manage themselves. We've been away a long time but just look at the Layarteb City Times. I picked one up before we boarded it. The populace is about to shit themselves and our government is about to implode."

"What do you suggest sir?" The Delta team was sort of secluded on the aircraft. They were well-respected by many of the regular infantry onboard the aircraft but they were feared just the same. A Delta unit had gone haywire in late 1975 and practically leveled a whole city-block out of revenge. The stigma that all Delta units were to be feared stuck. So when they boarded, the Major and his Delta team were saluted in the middle of silence. They took their place on the plane and few people sat within earshot of them.

"Sergeant. Something has to be done. This Red Army Faction. Our government is waging war on them. That's why we're coming home. You can bet we'll be called up. We fought them once before and won. It is only a matter of time before we're fighting them again. Whether it's Caracas or Layarteb City, we'll never be without a rifle in our hands."

"Yes sir."

"I studied a lot of revolutionary theory. There's only one logical pathway for these events." The plane stopped taxiing and entered the hangar. When it stopped, the men debarked and both the Delta Major and SGT. Delaney continued their conversation as the rest of the unit went their way. "You see. The government has lost the support of the elites of this society. That is a given, just read the article. I've picked up papers here and there in Caracas and they all say the same thing. The government is being turned on from inside. Trust me, this doesn't happen overnight. If it did it would be too drastic and everyone would see it and stop it. It creeps up on you, that's why it happens. It's slow. You'll never know its there until it's already an immovable object."

"Interesting sir."

"Yes. The populace is losing support for the government, if they have any left at all. That's two key elements. The last remaining group is the army. Overall, the military has about a fifty percent 'support' rating of the government. Venezuela buggered that severely. When the government puts the military on the streets, the morale is going to plummet. There is nothing more degrading than having to police your own population. That's part of the reason we have the posse comitatus act, which is going to be overturned by the end of summer, just watch."

"I couldn't disagree sir. You're right. There is, historically, nothing more corrosive to the morale of a population than policing its own citizens, but the enemy would be sadly mistaken if they were to doubt our resolve."

"You have that right. We are going to defeat them. That is a given that everyone knows. Probably even them. Maybe that is their intention. You see. Once they give the order to have the army fire into crowds of civilians, two things will happen. Those with overaggressive trigger fingers will kill women and children and probably be beaten to death by angry mobs. Those with souls will stand there and drop their rifles. The government will lose the support of the military.

"Combined with the loss of support of the elites, popular discontent by the populace, and you have one thing."

"Revolution."

"Revolution. That has a chance to succeed!"

"What of the Red Army Faction?"

"They're the main target. That is what the government is focused on and that is all that they see. There are dozens of groups currently plotting. Many will be of opportunity groups. Anarchists. Religious forces. Nationalistic forces. Et cetera."

"Sir. Are you," SGT. Delaney dropped his voice to a whisper. "Are you suggesting revolution?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I am suggesting. These groups will tear this country apart. From the inside out. We'll be nothing more than a giant cemetery."

"I don't want to see that happen. You know that but I'm not a traitor."

"You won't be betraying your country. Is it not our duty to protect this country from all threats, foreign. And domestic?"

"It is."

"You do not see the government as a domestic threat?"

"I do...I just..." An air raid siren echoed and cut the conversation short. "What the..." They darted to the nearest window and looked out, across the airbase. There, at least thirty miles away, a tornado was touching down. "Jesus Christ! We'll have to continue this later sir."

"Quick. To the basement!"

June 29, 1976 - 11:00 a.m. [EST]
Fortress of Comhghall, Layarteb City

"Alright Major stand right there please." The Secret Service officer said as he escorted the Delta Major into the President's office. President Deveroe was in the press room, giving a conference on a series of assassinations in the day before, which killed three federal judges and wounded four others. When President Deveroe returned he was, as usual, soiled with fury.

"The nerve of Danny to..." He noticed the Major and stopped his rant about a reporter who asked when the President was going to watch the news. "Ah Major. Where's your boy wonder?"

"Mr. President. He's on his honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" President Deveroe laughed as he sat down and put a snide face on, "Well. I'm glad to know that the security of our Republic can wait for sex."

"Mr. President, why am I here? I have things to do. So let's hurry up."

"Don't take that tone with me!"

"Mr. President I don't care who you are but if you do not show some respect yourself I am leaving and making sure that whatever you want you don't get. Now let's dispense with the bull. Sir!"

"Fine. To get you out of my face quicker. I hate you Major. You allowed Carl Weathers to escape and I'm wondering whose side you're on. However, my generals tell me that you're the best small unit leader in our entire military, which means that I am forced to deal with you because we both have a common enemy, I hope."

"The Red Army Faction?"

"Yes. The reason I am bringing the military back is to fight the RAF. Our intelligence analysts have pretty much determined that the RAF is going to launch a full guerilla campaign against us and our law enforcement personnel just don't have the capability to fight them. We need all of our men here, especially since they are gaining support from the populace. Eventually, they're going to number in the tens of thousands and that is a large force that our entire military is going to have to fight.

"That is why I need you to form a small unit of men, perhaps twelve to sixteen."

"To do what sir?"

"Hunt them down before the main thrust of the military. We won't be ready for months and until then, the RAF is going to go unchecked. I need you to form a unit to keep them in check."

"And what leeway do I have in this unit?"

"As much as necessary. The Congress is going to revoke the posse comitatus act next month, which means that everything is totally legal. Until then, of course, your unit will be operating in the realm of black operations. Is that clear?"

"It is sir."

"Good. I want this unit formed by the end of the week and I want a full report on its members and your plan to stop the RAF."

"I need access to intelligence on them."

"A liason with the Department of Intelligence is going to be assigned to your unit. When you leave, you'll be given a packet that will tell you the rest of the details. You are aware that this is compartmentalized."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now get out of here. I have more important things to do."

"Yes sir." On the way out, the Delta Major wanted nothing more than to kill the President with his bare hands but he couldn't act on those impulses.

June 29, 1976 - 7:00 p.m. [EST]
Fort Drum, New York

Fort Drum was 250 miles northwest of Layarteb City and nestled near the Republic's northern border. It was home to a mountain division but also to the Delta Force, an elite SOF branch within the Layartebian Army. The Delta Major managed to sneak on board a UH-1N Huey bound for the army base and had landed hours earlier. He used the Huey flight to read and review the package that he was given before he left the President's office in the Fortress of Comhghall. On the way, he looked briefly through the packet and skimmed the papers. The unit name was to be Task Force Gryphon, which was also the name of a top-secret program of the Layartebian Military that was aimed at creating a ground-launched cruise missile, which would be equipped with a 150 kiloton thermonuclear warhead. The program was years ahead of its time but the funding had been siphoned off as the conflict in Venezuela raged.

The Major was to hand pick a team of men up to sixteen to wage a secret and unconventional war against the RAF. The Major would take twelve men in total and form, with it, two teams of six men. He would lead one team and he wanted SSG. Delaney to lead the other but he wouldn't disturb him while he was on his honeymoon. Many of the members of their Delta team were resigning from the military in protest and though the Major wanted many of them, some would be tough to convince to stay on and continue the fight. He would have to recruit through various ranks of the army and Marines. He only had a week to do it and he had to do it fast. He would recruit who he could at Fort Drum and then head down to Brooklyn Naval Yard and get insight into some Marines. Once he got a decent list he would go to the Marine Amphibious Base in Connecticut. He wanted an even split of six Marines and six army but he wanted army in charge. He would recruit only from SOGs and that limited him to Delta, the Rangers, the SEALs, Recon Force, and the Green Berets. The package had a list of prospective candidates and their records and though he would have otherwise thrown the list out, he was impressed with the dossier presented to him.

Once picked, the Major would have only a short amount of time to get the unit trained and working together. They had to be combat ready in another week so that they were ready in half the time that it would take the army to present itself. The army, realistically, wouldn't be full ready until the end of summer. It wouldn't be, until then, that the army could do something. Despite the generals telling President Deveroe that they would be ready in a month, there was a lot of unit training and readiness to conduct. It would be until September before they could respond properly. The Delta Major would have a week of intense training and what not to get their unit up to speed. Because he recruited from SOF groups, there wouldn't be much training required, just working together. With Delaney set to return on July 4, the unit would be ready by July 5. Then they would have training and, hopefully, by July 12, they would be ready to go but the Major had a three day margin to push to July 15. He planned for more informal sessions for the last three days. His unit had to work together and they had to be a family and they had limited time to accomplish the task.

July 5, 1976 - 7:00 a.m. [EST]
Fort Drum, New York

"Good morning gentlemen. I'm glad you could all be here. Today is the first day of our fight. You are all standing there, confused and what the hell I'm talking about or who this man is standing right here. I'll get to that in just a minute. You were all selected because you are the best of the best. You know this. I know this. He knows this. So now there's no need for cockiness because no matter how good you are. We're better." There was a quick laugh amongst the men and the Delta Major kept up with it. "So let's get to the bottom of this. You are all aware of the threat of the Red Army Faction and if you didn't surmise that is why you are here, you don't belong here. So any morons amongst you?" Nobody moved around and the discipline was showing. "Good. That's why you're here. I don't care that you are the best. Remember. We're better. That's rule number one. Just so we know there's no cockiness here. Cockiness gets people killed. I don't want people killed. I've never lost a man under my command and I will retire with that record intact.

"Alright. Let's get this started. You are all officially but unofficially members of Task Force Gryphon. I say unofficially because gentlemen, what exists that prevents the military from acting as a law enforcement body. Corporal. You should know?"

"Sir. The posse comitatus act."

"Good. You are smart. That's good. I hate stupid people. Gentlemen. The military won't be ready to defend the Republic of Layarteb until September. That is pathetic gentlemen. The Red Army Faction is fighting us and we can't be ready for two months. Our leaders have failed us gentlemen but that isn't our concern. Our concern is the defense of this country. Gentlemen. You took an oath to defend the Republic of Layarteb from enemies both foreign and domestic. Gentlemen. This is a domestic threat. While our government and military lolligag around it is our job to disrupt, destroy, dismantle, annihilate, capture, and/or kill the Red Army Faction. So. Anyone want to leave?"

"Sir. No sir!"

"Good. You've been taught well. Our methods will be unconventional. You are all members of elite special forces groups. Congradulations. You've just graduated to the realm of black operations. Nothing we do. And I repeat. Nothing. Is to be told outside of us. Our missions are compartmentalized to us and only us. I don't care if President Deveroe stands in front of you and demands to know something. You will tell him nothing! Is that understood?"

"Yes sir yes!"

"Good. Gentlemen. I'm no drill sergeant. I don't care how many push-ups you can do. How fast you can run or how far you can run. I don't care how well you can keep a fucking tune as you jog. We're not here to redo basic. You are all elite. You are all trained. There's no time to waste re-training. There is however, something that everyone here is going to do. I don't care what branch you're from. You are all now in one unit. So none of this my branch is better than your branch shit. This is why we're all in one unit. Because we're better than everyone else. And remember. Who is the best?"

"Sir you sir!"

"Good. You're learning. What we're going to do here, this week, is become a family. Is that understood?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Alright. It's late enough. We're going to start this nonsense in just a little bit. The twelve of you are going to be arranged into two teams of six each. I will lead one team. Staff Sergeant Jack Delaney here will lead the other. Gentlemen. There is one other thing. Rank does not matter here. You may realize that some of you outrank my staff sergeant here. To me. It means nothing! Gentlemen. We aren't here to polish shiny pieces of silver or brass. We're here to dismantle the biggest domestic threat our Republic has ever seen and we are going to do it before the military can. Which brings me to my next point. When the government suspends the posse comitatus act. And they will. Our operations remain classified. Gentlemen. I don't want your pillow to know what you do. Alright. Now. I have to see what you can do. So. Let's get out on the range and the course. You'll be arranged in two man teams. Remember. Cockiness isn't going to get you points!" The twelve men departed the barracks and headed out to a special course that was the most complicated in the entire military. Passing through it would really determine where people belonged.