Clandonia Prime
24-03-2007, 00:26
Governors House, Clandonian Virgin Islands
The unrest had been going on for four days now, islanders angry about the increased tax rate rising to the full normal ten percent income tax rate from the low six percent. Business heavily criticised the colonial devolved government, applauding the supposed 'laissez faire' system but with the Empire already shrunken have the Whyatican independence drive. The last colonial assets, the Clandonian Virgin Islands, made up of around four inhabited islands with several smaller islands which were privately owned. One of the islands was a military complex and completely off limits to civilians. The islands history had been since Clandonian military testing of the firs chemical and then nuclear weapons on the two uninhabited. The island had since then developed a reputation for the playground of the rich and famous for where tax was a thing of the past. The notorious local corrupt government which had sprung up in the anarchy caused by the collapse of the mainland. With the Royal government taking power the government was reformed and the governor was reinstated after twenty years. The unrest has spread from the capital to the surrounding plantations and gated hamlets. It was midday on the fourth day when the situation turned.
"Sir the rioters have just raided the police station, they are marching on the residence." Spoke a breathless lieutenant, the smoke from the town had started to drift over blackening the tropical navy blue sky.
"How far are they away?"
"Less than a mile sir, my men will hold them at Shaftsberry Roundabout after that its a bit touch and go."
"Can we go airborne, I want my family out now to Fairemount if possible."
"It doesn't look like we can sir, we risk being shot down. Bloody colonials and their lax gun laws, this would never happen on the mainland people shooting at us with sniper rifles."
With that last sentence the crack of a .50 weapon going off in the distance.
"How are your men doing, do they need anything?"
"I've got five injured, three will live the other two need urgent evacuation I don't think they will survive the night."
"Put them in the billiard room, its quiet in there if we run out of space the blue room will have to do."
"Yes sir."
Shaftsberry Roundabout
The thirty man squad was dug in, blocking the road off a couple of Stykers where a three medics were fighting to save the lives of five men who had just been shot. One had a round that had got past the body armour and hit the liver, he was bleeding badly as the medics tried to get fluids in.
"Fucking hell he's dead!" Cried the medic, wiping the blood from his face as the floor or the vehicle was soaked in the blood of their fallen comrade. The ping of another bullet. The men had taken up defensive firing positions, digging into the once prize winning flower beds, the tropical palms splintered from bullets. The men for the last few hours had been firing blanks and tear gas canisters, now they had lost one of their own the peaceful tactics were over.
"Enough of this crap." Shouted a brawny corporal with a thick north Clandonian accent, he swung his G36K round and placed a 40 mm grenade in the attached launcher firing it into the air.
"Open fire!" Came the reply, as teams moved out, into the haze men keeping low down as they tried to retake the surrounding roads. The whiz and ping of a bullet, seeing the oncoming crowd the crews of the Strykers decided to up sticks and move out.
"Shit, we need to move." as the whoosh of a rocket propelled grenade passed the side of the lead vehicle as it started revving up the engine. The automated Chainsaw 7.62 machine gun opened fire as another rocket hit the drivers screen shattering the glass into the drivers face, screaming as the blood poured down as the vehicle continued moving. The smash of a fire bomb being thrown filled the cabin with flames, the surviving crew members scrambled out, to the brawling crowd as they were subjected to a painful death as the commander took as many as he could down with a discarded MP7 before a rioter pumped a .50 from a Desert Eagle into his face.
As the rest of the platoon reinforced the white period house with sandbags and barbed wire, the contact with the their comrades was lost as the signalmen tried in vain to establish radio contact with the vehicles, a Predator drone showed nothing more than the burning wrecks of Range Rovers and the three IFV's surrounded by bodies of what either were true Clandonian's or colonials.
Lieutenant Winston had just gobbled down half an Clandonian Military Instant Meal, now wearing his Glock 23 pistol on a hip holster with the fear of attack on the compound high. He wanted to retrieve the bodies of the men at the roundabout but he knew the dangers were to high to risk such an operation in daylight, perhaps under nightfall a team could venture out, already two bodies in the billiard room a pair of silk curtains ripped from the window covering their bodies. Governor Lord Stevens surveyed the scene of his once beutiful garden and house pitted with bullet marks
"Lieutenant, I think its time to radio New Clanon now and give them a summary and alert the forces at Fairemount and Brize for assistance, I will stay and fight but my family has no place here."
"I understand sir." Handing the governor a pistol and few mags of ammo. "We could get a boat out, I can't spare the men though if the flag falls then I have failed as an officer to you and the King, I can not let that happen. If this place falls there is a full brigade of Royal Marines at Brize on training it wouldn't take long for them to hop over, its more of a pride thing having a the marines save the army from impending doom, the jokes would last for years."
"I understand but I think your unit can sacrifice a bit of pride to save this Crown Colony for the sake of the United Kingdom, when I was in the forces we had worse banter than this when shelling Naasha's capital a group of marines fired cluster munitions about 20 yards in front of us, oh my how we laughed.
The unrest had been going on for four days now, islanders angry about the increased tax rate rising to the full normal ten percent income tax rate from the low six percent. Business heavily criticised the colonial devolved government, applauding the supposed 'laissez faire' system but with the Empire already shrunken have the Whyatican independence drive. The last colonial assets, the Clandonian Virgin Islands, made up of around four inhabited islands with several smaller islands which were privately owned. One of the islands was a military complex and completely off limits to civilians. The islands history had been since Clandonian military testing of the firs chemical and then nuclear weapons on the two uninhabited. The island had since then developed a reputation for the playground of the rich and famous for where tax was a thing of the past. The notorious local corrupt government which had sprung up in the anarchy caused by the collapse of the mainland. With the Royal government taking power the government was reformed and the governor was reinstated after twenty years. The unrest has spread from the capital to the surrounding plantations and gated hamlets. It was midday on the fourth day when the situation turned.
"Sir the rioters have just raided the police station, they are marching on the residence." Spoke a breathless lieutenant, the smoke from the town had started to drift over blackening the tropical navy blue sky.
"How far are they away?"
"Less than a mile sir, my men will hold them at Shaftsberry Roundabout after that its a bit touch and go."
"Can we go airborne, I want my family out now to Fairemount if possible."
"It doesn't look like we can sir, we risk being shot down. Bloody colonials and their lax gun laws, this would never happen on the mainland people shooting at us with sniper rifles."
With that last sentence the crack of a .50 weapon going off in the distance.
"How are your men doing, do they need anything?"
"I've got five injured, three will live the other two need urgent evacuation I don't think they will survive the night."
"Put them in the billiard room, its quiet in there if we run out of space the blue room will have to do."
"Yes sir."
Shaftsberry Roundabout
The thirty man squad was dug in, blocking the road off a couple of Stykers where a three medics were fighting to save the lives of five men who had just been shot. One had a round that had got past the body armour and hit the liver, he was bleeding badly as the medics tried to get fluids in.
"Fucking hell he's dead!" Cried the medic, wiping the blood from his face as the floor or the vehicle was soaked in the blood of their fallen comrade. The ping of another bullet. The men had taken up defensive firing positions, digging into the once prize winning flower beds, the tropical palms splintered from bullets. The men for the last few hours had been firing blanks and tear gas canisters, now they had lost one of their own the peaceful tactics were over.
"Enough of this crap." Shouted a brawny corporal with a thick north Clandonian accent, he swung his G36K round and placed a 40 mm grenade in the attached launcher firing it into the air.
"Open fire!" Came the reply, as teams moved out, into the haze men keeping low down as they tried to retake the surrounding roads. The whiz and ping of a bullet, seeing the oncoming crowd the crews of the Strykers decided to up sticks and move out.
"Shit, we need to move." as the whoosh of a rocket propelled grenade passed the side of the lead vehicle as it started revving up the engine. The automated Chainsaw 7.62 machine gun opened fire as another rocket hit the drivers screen shattering the glass into the drivers face, screaming as the blood poured down as the vehicle continued moving. The smash of a fire bomb being thrown filled the cabin with flames, the surviving crew members scrambled out, to the brawling crowd as they were subjected to a painful death as the commander took as many as he could down with a discarded MP7 before a rioter pumped a .50 from a Desert Eagle into his face.
As the rest of the platoon reinforced the white period house with sandbags and barbed wire, the contact with the their comrades was lost as the signalmen tried in vain to establish radio contact with the vehicles, a Predator drone showed nothing more than the burning wrecks of Range Rovers and the three IFV's surrounded by bodies of what either were true Clandonian's or colonials.
Lieutenant Winston had just gobbled down half an Clandonian Military Instant Meal, now wearing his Glock 23 pistol on a hip holster with the fear of attack on the compound high. He wanted to retrieve the bodies of the men at the roundabout but he knew the dangers were to high to risk such an operation in daylight, perhaps under nightfall a team could venture out, already two bodies in the billiard room a pair of silk curtains ripped from the window covering their bodies. Governor Lord Stevens surveyed the scene of his once beutiful garden and house pitted with bullet marks
"Lieutenant, I think its time to radio New Clanon now and give them a summary and alert the forces at Fairemount and Brize for assistance, I will stay and fight but my family has no place here."
"I understand sir." Handing the governor a pistol and few mags of ammo. "We could get a boat out, I can't spare the men though if the flag falls then I have failed as an officer to you and the King, I can not let that happen. If this place falls there is a full brigade of Royal Marines at Brize on training it wouldn't take long for them to hop over, its more of a pride thing having a the marines save the army from impending doom, the jokes would last for years."
"I understand but I think your unit can sacrifice a bit of pride to save this Crown Colony for the sake of the United Kingdom, when I was in the forces we had worse banter than this when shelling Naasha's capital a group of marines fired cluster munitions about 20 yards in front of us, oh my how we laughed.