NationStates Jolt Archive

20 miles west of Amanzimtoti, South Africa

The night was humid, as it usually is during the Summer time, and ungodly time to be outside. Cloud cover was minimal and the moon shone bright through a particularily large and odd shaped cloud which drifted lazily in the darkness. The highlands outside the port town of AManzimtoti were quiet, svae the sounds of nature, bugs and animals carrying on in the night. In the bush, six men appeared...silent, determined, lethal. The wore camoflauge unoforms and laiden down with gear, body armor, and weapons. The were members of the world renowned South African Special Forces Brigade. They were widelt respected as the premier special forces in the world, tenacious and clever fighters, adept at bush warfare and their training methods most sought after. An applicant endured rigirous training which was both a psychological and physical barrage against them, many failed but the few who made it were the best of the best.

The lead man, a tall figure with intriguing grayish blue eyes raised his fist in the air and his fellow "Recces" as the brigades were nicknamed halted, silent. He listened and watched in the night. In his hands was a Vektor C-21, a state-of-the-art assault rifle which is still not widely used in the SANDF but gaining momentum. His thumb was along the trigger guard, ready to open fire at a moment's notice.
"Sir, just over that hill is the bunker from the map" whispered the man right behind him, an unfolded map in his lap and a red light shinning down upon it.
"Very well, Campfield" the man returned. The leader was a second lieutenant named Lucas Rothe, a very capable and skilled member of the brigade and respected leader of this unit. He was handsome with haunting grayish blue eyes and short dirty blonde hair with a strong physic and a deadly mind.
"What now?" Campfield inquired. Rothe, did not turn to face his staff sergeant.
"We procceed as ordered by Special Forces Command" he replied in a quiet tone. His face was expressionless, even and calm. Attached to all their weapons were special adaptors for training. THough they were all seasoned veterans of the brigade, they were constantly honning their skills.

Their mission was to survey the bunker and storm it if enemy contacts were found. Basic tactics for their team. They moved out again, stealthy and silently approaching their target. It was a simple bunker atop a hill, cut into it to be exact. There was a small dirt road leading up the hill which stopped at a small plateau and a foot path led up to the bunker. There was a truck and two jeeps parked with two sentries visable. The bunker had at least five other soldiers, also a part of the brigade who were even more seasoned than Rothe's team. They moved like predators, a three man set went off the eastern side of the hill, taking up positions while Rothe led the other three on the western slope. They studied their targets, preparing for the assault. For fifteen minutes they waited. Rothe raised his modified assault rifle, took aim and fired off a simunition round which caused the one sentries vest which contained sensors to begin beeping, signaling that he was down. The team rushed forward, the whole hill opened up with fire, igniting the darkness. Each member moved up in staggered formation, covering the lead man and laying down suppressing fire. The men in the bunker opened up, one of Rothe's men was "hit" and had to lay to the ground while a medic rushed forward to treat his ficticious wounds. Rothe and Campfield moved to the trucks and took cover, Rothe bumping hard into the truck. The pops of automatic fire resounded just ahead of them.
"You go, I'll cover you!" Rothe ordered. Campfield nodded and swung around adn stayed low to the ground, he moved up the hill while Rothe continued to fire, then it stopped. Was he hit? All of a sudden a shockwave knocked Campfield to the ground as a ball of fire engulfed the truck as pieces of the truck, now deadly shrapnel flew through the air. Campfield's ears were ringing...stunned. He turned onto his back and saw the scene.
"My God" he whispered "Rothe!!" he staggered to his feet. The instructors called off the exercise. The whole mission went horribly wrong. The medics were called in and a fire crew raced from the nearby camp. In the morning light they saw the smoldering truck, searching for the remains of their comrade. An extensive search by medical personnel of the wreckage could not find his body...Rothe disappeared. Another search of the area was conducted in the surrounding area yielded no results, all that was found was his rifle near the burned truck. The cause of the truck's explosion was never found. It was as if Lucas Rothe never existed.

Bump

C.I.A Agent Jason Heighton had been serving in Iraq sence 2003 with the under cover 'Death squads' as the media had put it. Heighton had distinctive fighting gear when out of his tactical uniform, which included baseball caps, jeans, expensive sunglasses and specially adapted rifles ,most of the time he was tasked with hunting down and eliminating certian 'threats' as the American goverment had put it. The C.I.A members joined with over 300 Delta Force specialists already in the country who each had their own speical objectives that were to be completed.

OOC: More to come on my introduction, i have afew things to do..

Gaza City, The Gaza Strip (One month later)

It was a sweltering day in the city of Gaza. Along the Med coast. The city is a constant scene of fighting between Fatah and Hamas militants, both groups are struggling to control Palestine while holding an uneasy and often broken peace with Israel who over the recent years, scaled back attacks and relocated settlers from the West Bank and Gaza, paving the way for a Palestine nation. An idea so sought after, but often forgotten in the infighting between rival factions. Gun shots rang as often as car horns. hamas fighters, dressed in traditional garments often walked casually around with AK-47's and RPG's. While others wore tactical gear. Merchants haggled and argued in the Gold market, a cramp series of alleys and narrow roads containing numerous goods and services. The streets were unusually crowded today. For today was an important day. Leaders from Fatah and Hamas after much arguing and dialogue agreed to meet in the Al-Sayed Hashem Mosque, an important monument in the Islamic religion, it is believed that somewhere located in or beneath the mosque is the tomb of Hashem bin Abd-Manaf, grandfather to the great prophet. They hoped that religion could help unite them and possibly lead to a peace settlement. News agencies, otably Al-Jazzera were present outside the mosuqe. Joint-Hamas-Fatah security teams patrolled the outer perimiter and amoungst the crowd, no violence would be tolerated that day and a proclamation by both sides was adhered to strictly.

Nasim Abhanda was a controversial leader in Hamas. He was of average height but commanding demeanor. He was born in Jerusalem and wittnessed the numerous wars and terrorist campaigns that plagued Israel and Palestine. The blatant murders, bombings, corruption,a nd religious zealots which were steering Palestine towards destruction. He was in every sense, a moderate, and a suprising upcomer as Vice President. The career of Abhanda was in short, remarkable. He regularily remained in dialogue with Fatah leadership in an attempt to cross a bridge towards a united Palestine. Another oddity was he supported the recognition of Israel, an idea which spawned death threats, hatred, slander, and even one assasination attempt on him by those from his own party. But the wordly Abhanda was stern in his resolve, never wavering. He was in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and a beard with wisps of gray as well. He walked into a special conference room in the mosque, with slippers, he stepped onto the ornate carpet and met with the other delegates from Fatah and several members from his own party. He knew it was just a matter of time before they finally succeeded in killing him. His mission was seemingly suicidal but he continued nontheless. After several hours of heated negotiations and a few angry spouts of yelling, the conference ended for the day, set to resume the following. Abhanda with his security detail emerged from the mosque gates towards a line of range rovers which were attended by other security members. The streets were crowded with onlookers, protesters, and armed militants.

Down the street about 200 meters down the street sat a five story tall apartment complex. It was tattered and of poor quality, a slum basically. On the roof a figure emerged from the drying sheets of cloth with a bag. He set it down and took out the pieces of a lethal weapons. He expertly assembled the rifle and finally attached the 6X telescopic sight and inserted a 20 round clip but only loaded five rounds in it. It was a GALATZ-Galil Sniper Rifle, a common weapon in the IDF. He lay on his stomach and snapped open the bipod and adjusted the sight, adjusting for wind and range. In the sights he saw the scene ahead. An optomistic Abhanda striding towards the range rover, covered by personnel. He waited patiently, like a skilled predator he waited for the right moment, the right shot. Finally! The opportunity came when a security member fell back to check his radio. He depressed the trigger and the rifle discharged, sending the round down ranger, entering Abhanda's head, splattering his brains against the range rover. The security team swarmed him, it was chaos on the street. The assasin stood up and disassembled the weapon and left the rooftop and into a side alley, calmly and cooly. He disposed of the weapon with it's bag into a storage drain. He left the brass casing on the rooftop. He then entered a doorway and dialed his phone.
"It is done" he replied in a flat, emotionless tone and snapped the phone shut.

Moscow, 21st July
Golobski Rutitev was called back for the RIA [Russian Intel. Agency]. The recent fightings has cause many answers from the President Of Russia."Of the the Former KGB, you are the most trusted." said Yassinlov Kublisev, Head of the RIA. His orders were breif and unclear, he was told to investigate if the Hamas was really behind all these attacks and if they were connected in anyway to the Chechnyan Rebels.

OCC: So what can I do?

World New Network

A beautiful woman in her late twenties with short curly blonde hair and blud eyes emerged on the screen.
"Good evening, I'm Sandra Banks and this is your world news, tonight" her tone was somber and face stoic. A stark change from her usual sunny demeanor. "In Gaza City today, senior Hamas leader, Nasim Abhanda was assasinated after the first day of peace negotiations between the two rival factions. He met with Fatah leaders today in hopes of bridging an ever increasing gap between the rival factions. Amidst years of bloodshed and fear, Abhanda, a moderate, promised reform and the unification of Palestine as Israeli scaled back its' influence in the territories. Upon conclusion of the first day's talks, Mr.Abhanda was leaving the Al-Sayed Hashem Mosque with his entourage when he was killed by a sniper's bullet. This set off a chain of events which culminated later in the say with the deaths of seven people during clashes between the two factions. Each party is blaming the other for the death of Abhanda and the peace conference was cancelled. Israeli Prime Minister Nadav Lishner in a press interview expressed deep concern over the assasination of Abhanda. He and other members of the Kennesset were hopeful about the peace conference which may very well have forged a peace deal between the two parties. No group is claiming responsibility yet and an investigation is underway." she shuffled some papers and it cut to a commercial.

Jason Heighton acompanyied by four other C.I.A agents drove through the dessert in the northern Kurdish area inside a Landrover headed to meet with Iraqi tribal leaders to give them money and gain their support against enemy militants,

"We did this in Afganistan too, i swear we had an 80Lbs ruck sack stuffed with $100 dollar bills.."

One of the agents laughed, Jason smirked and the other guys chuckled..

"I wish they would pay me this much for my support.."

After driving for quite some time the driver pulled the landrover up to a house nestled in a valley. There were two guards with AK-47's outside, a dim light was visible through the window....

"Ok, this is it.."

The opertives got out holding two back packs, Jason held one, another agent held the other and they moved up to the guards who pretended like they wern't even there and kept walking,

"Not even going to challange us? they are expert guards.."

The group chuckled once more but now it was time to get serious. Two of the CIA agents had modifyed M4 Carbines and pistols attached to their sides, Heighton carried a Glock.18 under his left arm and was ready to draw it at any time..they were met at the closed door by a single man, he spoke in Arabec to one of the CIA members and Jason scanned the area carefully watching for anything that might appear amiss....

The rebel moved away from the door and the agent in the front opened it, inside were three men standing near the back wall..all of a sudden they raised weapons,

"AMBUSH!!"

Jason and one of the agents spun around to see the two guards raising their assault rifles, in once movment Jason had his Glock out

*POW, POW, POW**

One hit the ground, the agent beside him fired a burst from his M4 and the second guard fell with..

**THUDD** to the dirt..

The men inside opened fire..

**RATATATATATATATATAT**

Another Agent gave the Iraqi by the door a rifle butt to the head, as the others moved away from the open door as the hot lead flew out..

"HOLY FUCK!! get to the jeep!!"

The lead agent threw a grenade in the door..

**BOOM!!**

Screams of pain came from inside as the agents dashed for the Landrover, the bags were tossed in then they climbed in..

"GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!"

Muzzle flashes from the hills were now visible, then the headlights of two trucks speeding towards them came into sight,

"Go go go go!"

The CIA agent driving spun the vehicle around and drove off leaving a cloud of dust behind them, stray AK bullets struck the vehicle. They floored it but noticed the trucks were gaining on them,

"Heighton put some fire on them!"

"Right!"

Jason leaned out the window, switched his magizine to a extended mag flipped it to auto and opened fire with the machine pistols, another agent fired an M4 out the other side as they made their run for it,

"Whats our ETA back to base?"

"With them on our asses we will never make it! they gotta be delt with!"

All of a sudden b\ullets blew out the back window and the agent assisting Jason was hit in the arm,

"Ahh! bastards! FUCK!"

Jason put his Glock back in the holster, picked up the M4 off the floor and opened fire through the back window and appeared to have hit the driver and the passenger, the truck jerked sideways hit a sand bump and rolled, the guys in the back were flung out...

"Holy shit!! ahahaha!! yeah!"

The second truck slowed and gave up persuit...it's headlights went off in the distance and that was that. Everyone in the Landrover gave a sigh of relief then started laughing..

"Jesus christ.....i don't think they were our allies.." sadi Jason..

The others chuckled..

They never spoke another word to eachother the whole way back to base...

Istanbul, Turkey

Omar Pashir, a short semi heavy man of forty three moved about the interior of his Carver Yacht 33 Super Sport. It lay in anchor near the Golden Horn, a narrow strait which seperated the two parts of the city. Numerous fishing ships and ferries occupied the straits and surrounding waters. His keen eyes pierced through his sunglasses out towards the water. The sea, it was always calming to him. The serenity of ocean currents, quiet and delicate. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Finally, he walked back into the cabin and picked up a satellite phone, it had the latest encryption technology and practically untraceable. Though, out of habit, he never conversed for more than five minutes on it. He dialed a number he knew off by heart.
"I want to congratulate you on such a wide success" Pashir said with a wide smile. He turned and sat down in a plush chair and kicked his legs up and sat back.
"It was easy, like a lamb left to the slaughter" the voice on the other end said with an emotionless tone.
"Truly, but of course with a man of your skills, it was quite easy."
"When will the money be transferred?" the voice inquired.
"I wired it to the Bahamas where it will be laundered to the Swiss account, should be done by the end of the day" Pashir replied in turn.
"What now?" The man asked again, already knowing the answer. Pashir was quite pleased with the outcome of the incident in Gaza City. Why wouldn't he? The businessman profited greatly from the recent events unfolding, and he will continue to do so.
"Now, I have a mission which will prove more...challenging" He began "One I'm sure you'll eagerly accept. It will pay double."
"I'm listening" the man said, eager for more details.
Pashir informed him, giving a brief summary of the mission.
"That will prove challenging...I'll accept the mission" the man finally replied, satisfied.
"Excellent, my contact will fill you in on the specifics when the time arrives" Pashir ended the conversation and sat back in his chair.

Tel Aviv, Israel

A tall man moved like an athlete down the busy city streets of the administrative capital of Israel. His powerful chest moved up and down with excitement but his face remained stoic. He wore a khaki suit with brown dress shoes. He weaved in and out of the crowds easily, sunglasses obscuring his calm yet intense gaze, HIs destination lay just ahead. This man was Gunther Deitrich, a German national, ex special forces and head of Omar Pashir's security detail. His loyalty was unwavering, he prided himself in duty and hard work. A skilled tactical advisor and bodyguard. Deitrich moved to the street corner and surveyed the scene ahead. Pashir sent him to personally contact the assasin and give him the envelope with the plans. They agreed on a crowded area during the peak pedestrian hours. At a cafe, dozens of patrons sat, conversing and eating. He approached the outside part and waited. A folded newspaper sat on a table, that was the sign. He walked over and took a seat, his muscles tightening.
"Good afternoon, Mr.Deitrich" a voice bellowed from behind "Don't worry" he assured the security man who moved his stronghand to his hip which concealed a firearm.
"Mr.Rothe...quite an open place you settled on, clever" Deitrich replied as Rothe moved around the table and took a seat. His skin was darker from the sun and his hair a tad longer, he didn't alter his appearance much but it didn;t matter. His identity was classified anyways.
"Hardly, it's standard and you know it" he answered, crossing his legs.
"I have the information for you" he began to reach for his breast pocket but Rothe calmly raised his hand slightly from the table.
"Perhaps you should brush up on current events" Rothe's gaze never left Deitrich's shoulder. A man like Rothe survived off his paranoia and skills which rarely let him down. Pulling off the ruse in South Africa was easy. Killing Lucas Rothe was easy, but keeping him dead was the difficult part. Deitrich nodded and stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, a line of sweat appearing on his face. He brushed passed the table, knocking inot it, making no eye contact with Rothe as he departed. Rothe lingered for several minutes then stood up to leave.

Across the street, a woman with medium length curly black hair sat on a bench, seeming to rummage through her purse. Hidden beneath her hair was a small earpiece, transmitting to a van about two blocks down the street.
"Detrich's heading south down Alkabaza Street" she whispered quietly. She looked up, her hazel eyes locking onto the man Deitrich just finished meeting. The woman quickly diverted her eyes back to the bag.
"What of the other man?" a voice crackled in her ear.
"I can't ID him, did you get a picture?" she asked. There was a pause.
"Yes, we're running his image through the system, should take a few minutes for a match.
"Permission to follow?"
"Negative" the voice snapped back, sensing her eagerness. "Let him go for now"

OCC: Kulikovia, sorry to post it here, but i need you to replace some inactive guys in my Rp called The Company, you can see the IC thread on the 1st page, and the sign up thread link is in there, your a good Character Rper and i need you :p

OOC: I am flattered:D