NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Just a quick post to give you something to build on.

IC:
3 months ago.
Hendia Roth sat at her kitchen table drinking a tall glass of milk as men from the Local Warren's Fist* moved people and items from a trap door in her living room floor.

Hendia Roth was a sitter* in the council of the Leftist Party Association of Skibereen.

The LPA was really a group of small leftist parties that had merged to have more political strength in Skibereen.
The effect was negligible, while Skibereen could often times resemble anarchy, ti was at its core a very Right Wing Republic.

Hendia was perhaps the oldest sitter in Skibereen, and she was also the best. She had gone forty years and stayed under the radar of watch dog groups. while others made mistakes, let it be known they were sympathetic to the People's cause she had remained stead fast in her amazing ability to co-ordinate with invisible strings the mechanizations of the LPA.

What the vast majority of LPAs didn't realize that it was in itself merely a front for the radical revolutionary group known as the Black Hand.
Many debate the origin, some believe it started in Skibereen, others believe it merely found the lawlessness of the Skibereen a comfortable home. Not even Hendia knew how the Black Hand came to be, but for certain it was deeply entrenched in the underbelly of Skibereen.

From its dank hiding place its tentacles expanded out across the globe supplying arms, finance, fighters, training, or merely morale support to Leftist fronts across the globe.

Hendia watched as the men who had been gathering the items in her 'nook' began to take inventory on her kitchen floor.

"We as always appreciate all he help you give the revolution mother."

She looked at the man over the rim of her glass. Her face was soft and nering the state of being grandmotherly, at a glance she was the kind of woman that made you feel safe and cozy. Her eyes however regarded the man as if she was some great feline measuring up a deer or antelope.

"It inst a matter of seeking appreciation, and I don't 'give' anything...it is my duty to the People. My eyes are open, and I would be a traitor to not give all I could to the revolution. There can be no rest, no peace until all Peoples everywhere have shed the yoke of tyranny.Always have the strength of your convictions boy." Her response to his gratitude was at once a chastisement and propaganda.

The men who had been training in her basement were working on their accents for s trip into an especially dangerous locale.

The Peoples Freedom, 'One hell of a name' she thought. Hardly free or for the people.

They make a strike, it would not have to be large, merely successful. Simpy to show the people there who were ready to resist that indeed resistance could take place.


All real revolutions require a blood sacrifice.


Present Day

Gregory Adamth sat on his balcony and watched his children play in the street. His wife was down there with them, it was picturesque.

Except Gregory wasn't merely enjoying the warm afternoon air while his family played, and his wife wasn't merely spending some close up time with the kids.

Gregory and his wife Elaina were knitters* for the LPA and by default the Black Hand.

Gregory smoked his cigarette.

He smiled at his children and spoke as if he were mouthing words to them...in reality he was speaking to the two men who could not be seen from outside. They sat at a small table near the doors that opened to the apartment balcony.

"Yes Gregory we followed all protocols. But it was unavoidable, James and Evan were killed while fled. Joseph and I barely got out away ourselves."

"I understand Richard, casualties in war are to be expected, its unfortunate that you lost half of your team however."

"The PeoplesFreedom is a very vigilant enemy of the revolution Gregory. We were not briefed properly on what to expect. But have no fear the next men to go will have the benefits of our experience."

Gregory smashed his cigarette on the rail of the balcony and then didnt hesitate to light another...

He thought to himself 'Yes, one piece at time we will build the fortress that is the will of the People. That is how it must be done if it is to be fit.'

"You have done well, I am glad to see you back."


....
Fist-Black Hand reference to an operations Cell.
sitter-safe house manager
knitter-debriefing agent

Molkte Square
Molkte Square was located in a central plaza in Liberty City, the second largest city in The Peoples Freedom and by far the most wealthy. The square was dominated by a very tall statue of Lord Grand General Molkte, who had delivered the country from complete destruction during The Armageddon War. It was bronze, with a real gold layer, not cheap gold paint or fake gold that was so common on other memorials throughout the nation. Several men were sitting in a white van, parked on the side like so many other cars and vans... hundreds of people were shopping at the storefronts there or enjoying some drink and food at the cafes. For many it would be their last.

Police Sergeant Joesph Henry smiled as a couple walked past them, the male carrying several full shopping bags, while the women hurried into another store, this on specializing in meat from Franberry. He noticed a white van parked to his left side, several men were sitting there instead of shopping, smoking cigs. Well, might as well see what they're up too. He radioed in to HQ that he was checking out the white van. Joesph's hand hovered near his .40 TDX sidearm, but not too near, of course. Knocking on the window, he flashed a bright smile. But the men seemed startled. One of them seemed to be reaching for something. Henry's hand quickly unbuttoned his holster, placing his hand on the pistol grip. He was too slow. Another pistol came up, and fired several shots through the window, turning his face into a messy scene of bone and gray brain matter, and covering the van with blood.

There were dozens to screams, and when the people realized what was happening, they started to flee like so many animals. The terrorists just grinned, it made their job easier. They threw hand grenades and fired their shotguns and Doomani made DR-89's with savage impunity. One citizen after another went down with holes the size of bricks in their backs and blood pouring out like rain. An off-duty Marine officer go his TDX out of his car and fired upon the terrorists, killing one before he too was struck down.

A police Crisis team soon arrived on the scene. Three terrorists were still gunning down civilians, they cocked their DR-83's and submachine guns and engaged the enemy, killing another. The other two took cover between thick stone walls and managed to escape through a back alley.

More than sixty citizens had been ruthlessly murdered, more than forty lay in serious condition at local hospitals. Federal Police had been dispatched to the scene and they had collected foresenic evidence and had interviewed dozens of horrified survivors.

It took weeks but eventually investigators found that the terrorist cell had originated in Skibereen and they were members of a far left cell that probably choose to attack TPF due to its anti-communist beliefs. A court issued an international arrest warrant for the two surviving terrorists, who had managed to escape the country despite a tight lock-down. The team was to track down and arrest these suspects officially, but unofficially their job was to simply destroy the cell and all of its members, and report back for further. operations.

There were eight team members who boarded the red-eye flight to Skibereen, since that government did not recognize their arrest warrant they were going as tourists, weapons and gear would have to wait. These agents were highly-trained in such operations by the Federal Police and all but one had special forces military background. They had scheduled for Skibereen intelligence to pick them up at the airport when they arrived and brief them on the situation. While the government didn't want to help, it seemed intelligence did.

Constance International Airport, New Dublin Skibereen.

Tom Bethany drove his large 'deuce and half' to the parking lot, then made his way through security check points of varying degrees of violating his personal space and modesty.

He didnt really blame them, he was a big man, head and shoulders taller then any of security, unkempt , unshaven, his black hair was matted down and he didnt leave his Khu Kris in the truck.

Many of the cheaper flight disembarked directly on to the tarmac.

He made his way to the waiting area for flight 445 GT(Globe Trekker) it was one of the weekly flights that went to various nation of limited diplomatic and economic relations to Skibereen...Skibereen did even given its violence, have a very heavy tourism sector.

He held up a hand written sign it read 'Preston', just that single word.

He waited patiently as the plane disembarked.

After exiting the plane, the Federal agents were rather exhausted. It was multiple hours of flight, who knew exactly how long given it was hard to keep track in the air. Soon, they spotted the agent that was suppose to pick them up, they lumbered over and identified themselves and crawled into the back of the truck, most falling asleep while only their leader Lead Agent Blue, stayed awake and watched and observed the country.

Tom didn't have much to say, and the truck didn't leave much chance for conversation.

He was taking the men to OSP territory...well it wasn't that anymore now with the reconciliation going on...but there was nothing else to call it.

A long drive from the Red Hand controlled capital of New Dublin to the western midlands.

There was a cooler int he back of the truck with food stuffs, ale, and water.

A bucket.

A few crates of 'Sire' assault rifles...

A small radio, and a small television...

It would have to be comfortable enough for the men, Tom himself wouldn't even get a chance to rest. The drive would certainly take the better part of ten hours.

They passed through the massive city of New Dublin, towering buildings and eclectic architecture ...they would see a drastic change once outside the city. A place concentrated full of over one-hundred million people...out into the rolling pastures and grasslands with pickets of forests spread out across Skibereen.

It was about five hours into the drive the moon had set...

Tom could see the lonely road up a head was blocked.

He had been running with his lights off, it was safer that way in the country.

He didn't stop but rather he slowed down.

Special tourists rarely got to have the first glimpse of Skibereenian hospitality be positive...it seemed these men would have the same misfortune.

The big diesel could theoretically blow through the road block, but then there could be a rocket or two waiting for just such an event.
As he slowed he pounded on the back of the cab...and yelled through the small window between him and the men.

"You're on the clock boys.
No matter what happens stay in the truck."

" Well shit, this is not good." Blue could hear what was going on, the truck brakes stopping and the truck coming to a halt. He was worried that their oddesey may have ended before it begun, but Blue was naturally cool, and this talent reinforced by the Academy and cold hard experience. The rest of the team had woken up a few hours earlier, they had watched the strange TV programs and had some soda and ale. Now they too were alert as they were trained to be. One of them noticed the crates of assault rifles and nodded towards it, Blue nodded back and four of the men carefully got out the rifles and coked them, keeping the safeties on but prepared to fight, althoge loosing their only contact in a potentially hostile country was not a wise move to make.

The big 'Gaf'(Colloquial term for Black Skibereenian) stood next to the truck, he smiled ...in much the same way a crocodile did Tom imagined.

"Where you heading out here at night, messy?"

He must have been referring to Tom's appearance.

"Gaffy, I have a group of 'Dontknows' in the back heading for the Pats.
I not to straight on where they are from but maybe want to see the Orthodox types you know?"

He looked back at the truck. "Dontknows' you say then. Tourists looking for the Lord. Pilgrims as it were. Is that how we are to understand it?"

The canvas of the truck would allow the conversation to heard. It happened in English for the most part beyond some brief portions of rapid exchange.

Tom looked hard and could see several men flanking his forward position to the road.

"Have them come out."

Tom, at this point lowered his eyes, and shook his head a little.

He got out of the truck, the 'Gaf' who was a large man was clearly surprised by tom's size.

"Gaffy, I said plainly 'Dontknows', now you Know, and I know, but they Dont Know...follow me. So since you know, and you know that I know, we both know I aint getting them out of that truck for you. Tread careful here Gaffy, its a slippery slope."

"You dont seem to be in much position to tell anyone what is and is not a good place to stand."

"So you going to harass a group of tourist and get the DeFor poking around down here for a few months. That make sense to you?"

"Listen man, I heard what you said. Simple fact is I got to check. You say they are tourists, fine. I need to check. If they are tourists we leave you alone. But if you are fucking with me..."

Tom unsheathed the large Khu Kris.

"If I decide to fuck with you, your friends are going to carry your head home in a sack. So you do your checking, you look in the truck...get in the truck, sniff the truck...but they aint coming out."

"Deal."

Blue took note of the conversation, it was a rare look into Skibereen culture: the Federal Police intelligence had little to no information on geography and political status, of course they had none on culture. The other agents had also listened carefully, and had quickly put the assault rifles back into the crate with as little noise as possible. Naturally a group seeing them with guns would not take this well. Several of the agents also decided to pretend they were sound asleep, while three stayed awake but made sure to look blury eyed and tired. Blue's teeth started to chatter. Not only was it a cold night, but he was nervous. More nervous than he had ever been before... except for maybe that undercover arms deal with the Purple Skulls gang.

The Big Gaf climbed up into the back of the truck.

His rifle shoulder slung, blue would note how casually these people risked their lives...or how much one might not understand about what Skibereenian means when he says 'At the ready'.

He had large machete...these people all seemed to carry knives.

This particular knife was sheathed.

as his form became more clear Blue would be able to note the man was in a Skibereenian Marine Raider Uniform.

"Good Evening gentlemen, just doing a contraband inspection." This was meant for tourists...almost nothing in Skibereen was contraband.


TV, radio, crate of rifles..."Messy, the guns for the tourists?"

"Dont be difficult Gaffy, you know damned the Sire is going to Surplus for the modified RAR-4s Its easier to find crates of rifles then crates of apples."

"So you couldnt sell them then?"

"No."

He stood regarding the men, its was cool but his face stil glimmered with the sweat a man gets from just sitting in the bush for a few days with no shower.

"Messy, you have some pretty fit tourists."

He continued to 'eye fuck' the men in the back.

"You think i dont know fighting men when I see them messy?"

"Gaffy, the Crow is almost finished being built...maybe they are hanging around waiting for the opening ceremony. Soldiers go on vacation too...and by the looks of your greeting one needs to be a Soldier to vacation here."

The big Gaf laughed to himself and lowered his head, "Ok, messy you got me. I apologize gentlemen for the delay."

He then got out of the truck.

"Messy, fifty pounds. I am going to need fifty pounds."

"How about the rifles?"

"Why you giving away the rifles Messy?"

"Because for the rifles I want you to get on your radio and make sure I dont run into any of your friends on the way to the Pats and have to repeat this little bit of bullshit over again."


The Gaf laughed out loud.

"Its a deal big man, get going. Keep your money and the guns. You have good night."

Blue audibly let out the breath he had been holding after the truck started to move again. It hadn't been a pleasant expierence, made even more so with a very large black man jumping into the back of their truck. Indeed, black skinned men or women were rare in TPF, although not non-existent. He reached into the fridge to grab some beer, and then also began to examine the assault rifles inside the vehicle. He wanted to know how to use them in case they need to.

Blue would find the Assault rifles inthe crate very simple and familiar if he had any weapons experience at all.

The Skibereenians had designed the Sire as it was known affectionately...to replace AK-47, AKM, AK-103s. The major differences being felt recoil reduction and the fact the Sire fired the Skibereenian 6.8x55mm round. It was a simple rugged weapon, designed to do a job well enough to be superior to its predecessor.

Luckily in this instance, for this ride the rifles would end up being unneeded.

The men felt the truck come to a stop.

Tom climbed into the back of the truck.

"Gentlemen, I am Tom Bethany. I am your guide of sorts while you are here in Skibereen. Obviously I am more then a guide, but that is neither her nor there, for the time being I am your guide. I have brought here to Gran Tricia Cathedral to meet with some other gentlemen associated with my government's fight against the Black Hand.

I am sorry to give you a civics lesson but some understanding on your part is required.

Our Government is in a transitional phase, up until about sixteen months ago being an opposition party meant operating a standing military and actively seeking to seize power, while being the governing body meant keeping general order and up keeping a military strength capable of fending off opposing factions. That has come to an end. Official elections are due to be held soon, the Parties are now acting like Political parties and not Juntas. We even have an active group of completely peaceful Leftist parties...the Black Hand however wanted no part in the reconcilliation.

The Black Hand is about as radical a revolutionary group as one can find. They have been entrenched in the Skibereenian underworld for going on a century advocating anarchy in their early days then making the dramatic shift to revolutionary Leftist claptrap...with a decidedly authoritarian spin.

Our Foreign Ministry sent you here, to work directly with the OSP* Party, a former enemy of our government. The OSP is decidedly the least likely group to have Black Hand turn coats or sympathizers for one simple reason.

The OSP is a religious group, and the Black Hand is staunchly Atheist, as you can imagine there is no shortage of animosity from the OSP towards the Black Hand...so you will find safe intel and support most likely from these men.

According to my brief given the nature of the attack in your country there are a lot of people wanting to speak with you before you hit the street.

You're going to be popular for a few gentlemen...questions?."

One of the members, the only female, Agent Jones, spoke up. " What exactly is the goal of the Black Hand? Why did they attack us thousands of miles away in TPF when their goal is to seize power here? Before this we had near to contact with Skibereen and to be frank our briefing was so skippy on details that you would think a third-grader had made it."

"The Black Hand's Goals..." Tom paused.

Rubbed his face...

"Chaos, discord, unrest, they are a malignancy. The Black Hand at the turn of the century attracted revolutionary Anarcho-Capitalists to Skibereen. A bizarre cult of the market philosophy ensued. That lead to collapse of the government at that time and ultimately created the modern state of Skibereen...for good or bad forged in nearly one-hundred years of low intensity civil war. A war which they never played a direct role in. During that time they shifted from Anarcho-Capitalist rhetoric to a more and more Leftist slant deeply associated with Authoritarianism. Or to be clear, they became diametrically opposed to their previous stance. To be honest they helped forge Skibereen into the state that was the inspiration for men Rothbard, Hoppe, Friedman, hell Spooner was a respected speaker in Skibereen at the time and could often be found lecturing in New Dublin University.

However at some point the leadership of the Black Hand changed, today...they are terrorists of the worst order. They recruit under the revolutionary banner...all Leftist doctrine is per their doctrine to be accepted under the Black Hand banner, and indeed after the 'Enemy of the People' is extinguished will they sort out the details.

We have a handful of ideas who the genuine leaders are of the Black Hand but nothing solid. They support Leftist organizations from all over the world.

Here is the reason the TPF incident is so important to us...In Skibereen tactics have been honed in Urban warfare to a fine art. We rarely injure or kill civilians except where it is completely unavoidable...and neither do The Black Hand. As you may have noted just from walking o the truck...we are an armed nation. Here the government exists at and by the will of the people...if and when law enforcement over steps its bounds public reaction is violent.
I can list for several incidents to make this clear but I wont...let me say this one thing.

In 1964 a Red Hand* Light Infantry company was in pursuit of a an OSP recon group. Then engaged the group on a farm just outside the village of Der Da Dun...The ensuing fire fight aroused the anger of local Village council over the damage done to the farm. The men of the village pursued the company for compensation. Mistakenly the Company engaged and killed the village men to the last. Over a period of the next 60 hours the women and older children of that village hunted down and executed sixty of the one-hundred and twenty strong company. before they were given refuge by a local militia.

Many other incidents have occurred which illustrate my point, but none so clear as that.

The Black Hand is ignored by the average Skibereenian because they kill soldiers and government officials, State loyalists, religious Hierarchy. What they do not do is target civilian market places...to be completely frank what occurred in your nation was completely off the mark for TBH that it has the SOMII** buzzing like a pissed on beehive.

The attack appears to be completely counter productive...we want to know why as much as you do, because this could indicate another shift in the TBH doctrine. Of course the men inside are going to want to be part of this discussion. "

" Alright then. Thanks for the information. Let's go." This new information was of great interest to the group. Such a radical change of doctrine could mean a number of different things. One of these was the possibility that another nation was influencing this group. It was likely to be an ameatuer nation given the scope of the attack and the little harm it did to the overall country, but even so any security threat needed to be faced. Eager to learn more, the squad followed Tom into the church where they were to meet. Blue and Gordon, the two Catholics of the group, crossed themselves as they entered.

The Catholics would see familiar scenes in the Cathedral, however this wasnt a Catholic church. It was a Skibereen Orthodox Church luckily for the officers theology was not on the agenda for today.

The heavy doors opened easily, and while painted walls demonstrated the scenes familiar to all who are familiar with Christianity, the interior was beyond this type of decoration decidedly spartan.

It wasnt immediately notable that Tom was now following a young boy, it appeared as an alter boy but vestments were different, and they covered the feet of the boy so he gave the appearance of gliding rather then walking...which was magnified by the small boy's superb posture, it was indeed militant.

The main area of worship is where they passed and even in this great hall it was only lit by candle. This gave the effect of casting shadows everywhere making for an eerie crossing of the massive structure.

As the eyes of the men adjusted they could detect what must be some type of security elements moving about the church.

They reached the area behind the Alter where another set of doors lay, the boy stop and waved the men past. He could have been no more then twelve years old but as his eyes met the eyes of Tom and the agents from TPF he did not blink or look away rather his gaze was fixed and constant like stars in the sky. The 9mm sub machine gun strapped about his neck was almost undetectable.

As the doors opened one was made immediately aware that the heavy looking oak finish was a mere facade and the door were in fact 3 inch steel and concrete blast doors. The entry way lead into a security room and then to an elevator, which clearly went down.

At this point looks over to the others..."I've never been this far in, with reconciliation this is now a government facility. But a few short years ago the people here would be showing me my own bowels right now. Crazy."

There were not indicators in the elevator to tell how far down it went, and the thing seemed to stop and start and speed up and slow down as it moved.
At one point Blue would have swore it moved laterally for over a full minute.

Finally it came to rest and the doors opened.

A fair skinned man with a slight build in a basic black uniform guided the men down another long hall until they reached a door to which he waved them through.

As they entered the room was a large conference area, seated at a thirteen chair table was a group of men.

Tom spoke again as they approached the table he whispered as he walked, he was very good at talking without moving his lips very much.

"The man at the head of the table in the black suit is Bishop Moore. He is one of the Skibereen Orthodox Church and he is the second in command of Order of Saint Patrick.

To his left is Bjorn Elefson he is a top level intelligence operative with the O'Murchadhas another rival faction. The O'Murchadhas often call themselves the 'Cousins'.

Opposite Bjorn is Mr. Apothnesko from the Society of Fathers the oldest criminal enterprise in Skibereen.

They reached the table and Bishop Moore rose to meet the on coming TPF agents and he did so before they sat, he shook their hands.

Bjorn nodded to the TPF agents and spoke "Tom, I believe you are even bigger then the last time we met, you massive bastard."

Tom only laughed a little.
It was clear that Mr. Apothnesko had Tom's attentions.

Mr. Apothnesko barely seemed to acknowledge the people entering the room, though he did make eye contact and nod his head ever so slightly. It seemed every inch of the man's exposed flesh was in danger of being covered by ink.
From the tips of his fingers to his eye lids was intricate and artistic tattoo work, most of which none of the TPF group would have ever seen.

"Please sit we are very glad to have you and I assure you we will be more then happy to share any information we have to help you catch the men who committed this deplorable act in your nation." said Bishop Moore.

He spoke with warm timber and seemed to be in a state of perpetual good will.

"We are waiting for one more person." said the Bishop.

"Who are we waiting for Bishop Moore, I represent the Red Hand..." Tom said.

"Tom the Black Eyes have opted to have their own representative here as well."

Just then the door opened behind the TPF agents.

Four men of less then average to average height walked in, their faces were covered by black scarves and they wore uniforms of the Skibereen Army.

Blue could hear Tom speak to himself "The Crow".

And while none of the TPF agents should know who the man is it was decidedly clear everyone else here did as even the stone face Apothnesko shifted in his seat. It wasnt clear which of the four were causing the discomfort was until he stepped forward.

"Bishop Moore, I am Saint Michael."

"I am well aware of who you are sir. I must say its a pleasure to be looking you in the face...if you know what I mean." The Bishop chuckled and shook the man's hand.

One could see a smile touch the veiled man's eyes for a moment.


"Let us begin." The Bishop turned to the TPF agents "Please give us every detail about the incident in your nation, arms, number of assailants, clothes, vehicles, time of day. All things are relevant."

Needless to say the agents were awed at the cathedral. The Holy Reich did have quite the collection of massive Gothic Cathedrals but even so this one was awe-inspiring all the same. The trained eyes of the group quickly spotted the security detail, but having come this far they now trusted Tom, especially after the incident with the negroid, TPF still used that antiquated term. The man with the ink also awed and cowed the young agents. Tattoos were rare in TPF and there were very few whom had such a large amount of ink on their bodies. They agents either nodded or saluted the people they were introduced to. It seemed that these men were important and the agents were glad they weren't being shafted or hindered. Blue glance at Tom as he heard the crow. But before he could even think about it they were being asked for details. Blue swallowed and began.

" The attackers were four white males, ages thirty to forty. They came in via shipping liner ans the two surviving one's have left the country but we are not sure how. They used a rented white van and payed for it in cash. They were wearing normal clothing, hoodies, blue jeans, and one wore a hat. They were armed with pistols, Doomani DR-89's, and shotguns. The attack was carried out at 12:13 in midday. A police officer approched their vehicle because it was parked illegally. He was shot. An off-duty Marine officer was able to get his sidearm and kill one suspect. Another one was killed in combat versus the Crisis team, the other two somehow escaped after a firefight. They virtually were off the face of the earth. We believed they managed to go through the sewage and to a safe house or the slums."

"Sounds like a bait and switch to me." The man behind the veil spoke.

Nods around the table.

Apothnesko spoke "Indeed, this sounds clumsy for a domestic mission, for a foreign mission the mistakes are glaring. I am tempted to say it wasn't Black Hand at all."

Bjorn "This is all well and good but, a switch for what? A terrorist attack elevates the security on already hard targets and brightens eyes on soft targets. It would only serve to stagnate any resistance."

Apothnesko and St Michael's eyes met as Bjorn spoke.

"Well, assassin are you going to speak or am I?"

The TPF agents assuming they were well trained and expereinced would have felt the other three men who accompanied the man who called himself 'St. Michael' tense at use of the word assassin.

St. Michael gave an almost undetectable signaled with his body language and the men calmed as quickly as they had bristled. A man experienced in combat patrols and LaRS actions would have known exactly what had just happened, he had issued an order. To anyone else it would have been almost nothing.

"Alright then both of you explain." Tom said.

"Recruiting" Was what both Apothnesko and St. Michael replied.

"Fuck." Tom replied.

"So who do you think?" Tom continued.

Apothensko "I say you shake the trees in Hammar. A lot of thinkers in Hammar for the movement. A lot of radicals. Go break some fingers big man."

St. Michael "You talk very big inside an OSP strong hold Apothnesko." As he spoke he didnt seem to tense or even be threatening though it was clearly a challenge.

Apothnesko "So, birdie you challenge in an OSP strong hold? Dont insult my intelligence. That mask might hide who you are from the O'Murchadhas or the Pats, or the Dana or even the Black Hand but make no mistake You are no secret to me."

St. Michael "Far better then you have tried to intimidate me, and certainly far better have tried to kill..."

the Bishop spoke "Gentlemen, enough." He spoke very softly, so one had to listen closely to even understand him...this is a brilliant tool in speech.

"Both of you stop, or I promise no one will leave this room alive." he looked at Apothnesko "Even you."

"So Hammar then." Tom broke the silence.

Apthnesko produced a small slip of paper and wrote a name on it. Start there, and be careful Dillion doesnt like guests.

"Lets Go." He then stopped a moment. Looking at St. Michael he said "My cousin told me about you at Methenra and how you saved his life."


The man looked back at Tom, "...if your cousin was at Methenra he probably saved my life."

"No sir he was one of the boys in the village."

"Who do you think it was that saved my life?"

"Touching." Apothnesko muttered as he rose to exit through a door on the other side of the room.

"What in fuck's sake was that all about?" thought Blue, all the men were now leaving the room without so much as a goodbye or anything to the Prussians, and now Tom was bursting out of the door heading somewhere. The other seven agents looked equally as bewildered. It was evident some grave insult had been made, but the agents knew nothing of the culture. They ran out the door to Tom and he looked rather annoyed. " Er, sorry Tom, but what the heck just happened and where are we going?

"It is of little consequence, for the most part I assure you. For me to take the time to explain would involve a minimum of twenty years of national history.

Ignoring much longer running rivalries of the factions.

Apothnesko, is in the top ranks of a Criminal Organization in Skibereen...perhaps the only criminal enterprise in Skibereen.

But they gather intelligence very well, they also have little to no respect for anyone or anything. Their dispute with the Black can only be speculated on, but there is no doubt it is genuine. The information Apothnesko gave is good and we will go to Hammar and see if this 'Dillion' is willing to be co-operative. First however I have to make some phone calls and get you your tools.

On a side note, just so you understand. The man in the mask and the uniform is operationally code named 'St. Michael' by the Red Hand government. However most other factions have nick named him 'Badb Catha' which means 'Battle Crow' an old name for a god of war. The Crow in our culture also represents death, and wisdom. He is by all recorded counts the deadliest man in Skibereen and this is not disputed by any of the factions. During the civil war placing him and his men into a theater could stop break throughs, reduce rampant insurgent activity, and send command units fleeing away like cockroaches from light. The man has killed more officers then many combat veterans have killed soldiers...this isnt an exaggeration. He has in his career missed one target, the head of the OSP. With the reconciliation it is said he will never get to make that kill to give himself a perfect record. I am not trying to make the man sound horrible, rather his actions have saved countless lives.
So when Apothnesko called him an 'Assassin' I expected things to go south very quickly. The man is a hero, he is a servant. Now lets go find your bad guys."

" Alright, Tom, I understand. Naturally we would be liking some weapons for use, and maybe some training." Said Blue. " My men... any our one women, are well versed in small arms and larger weapons, and we have some explosive experts with use as well. What kind of resistance are we likely to be facing? You know, are they well trained, heavily armed? How are we getting there and what is the overall plan?"

The large truck was gone.

Replaced with a van, as it seems tom was expecting this he walked straight to it as if it was what he had arrived in.

The back of the Van had seating for the team, the windows were blacked and accommodations were fine, it was an expensive vehicle.

Tom spoke as he drove.

"Briefing you as best I can...oh thats a scrambled Sat phone." he pointed to the one on the console between the two men.

"I know very little, we will go see Dillion and see what he has to say. As for what exactly to expect...we are going to be doing some of the leg work ourselves...I am getting a tactical map of the neighborhood faxed over."

http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y211/IndioRazaRepublica/TacticalMap1.png

"We will approach from the bridge in the south east. What approach do you want to take?"

The agents were fairly impressed with Tom and his allies so far. They were professional and seemed to know what they were doing and how best to go about it. Hell, the fact that the agents hadn't yet been betrayed spoke some volume. As they exited the building they came across a new van, which they soon entered. Blue was relived to see the sat phone. Command would be wondering what was up, although technically they had a "blank check" to kill or apprehend the terrorists without having to contact command, but nonetheless the call would be welcomed. As Blue dialed the number he was put through to his case officer at his home.
" What's going on? Glad to hear from you Blue. We have no assets in the region and don't even know what the fuck is going on."
" Everything's okay Dave. We have made contact with a man named Tom who is arranging all our weapons and operational details. The culture here is very different, and we're having trouble adapting to it but we have managed to avoid offending anybody."
" Good, so what's the situation?"
" We have intel on who we believe committed the acts. However that kind of assualt doesn't fit in with their profile of the group, basically they think some ulterior motive may be at hand. But we can't be sure until we managed to... "talk" to one of the suspects."
" Have you got a location on any of them?"
" Yes. We just had a strange meeting with some power players in the area, they have given some information and we are heading to take down some now."
" Understood. Keep us updated if you can. We're working on getting some assets in the region, but we are not sure how that will pan out."
" What kind of assets?"
" We are working on getting some frogmen or Marine commandos in the area, but we're having trouble getting the sub for insertion."
" Understood. Bye." With that, Blue hung up and sat back in the van seats. Why the fuck would they send in spec ops teams? I thought they wanted this done quietly, that's why were here after all. After that thought he was interrupted with Tom who had secured a tactical map of the area.
" I think Monroe would be a good road to take, but I want to talk to Dillion first." Blue said. Soon enough the van arrived at a small apartment complex where another agent was waiting, persumly to give the team its weapons and to come up with the planning details. They waited for Tom to get out before following him. The agents were nervous, they were finally getting to do what they had came here to do.

Tom, had taken them to where their own agency had actually arranged to pick weapons from a Skibereenian merchant...smuggler...a rose by any other name...

The Agents from TPF received their hard with out incident. Along with their weapon they would see familiar food stuffs, clothing labels, liquors, and magazines.

"Do a lot of business over there?" Tom enquired.

"Everyone wants to sell something to someone without someone else knowing. I do a lot of business from everywhere." The said, and then handed Tom a jar of fruit preserves from TPF.

"Enjoy."

With the TPF agents now armed Tom continued to on to meet with Dillion.

After some debate with Dillion and Tom about the law and him having no obligations to talk to anyone Tom concluded...

"Listen, Dillion I am not here to ask you questions. I am off duty right now.
I would however like you to meet these folks I am showing around the country. They are Law Officers from TPF. I will let you folks get acquainted, I am going to go get some coffee only be a few minutes. I will bring you back something Dillion." With that he walked out of Dillion's apartment leaving him alone with the TPF Agents.

Once again Tom left the agents alone with very little information with what was going on. They did however appreciate the foodstuffs and many of the agents began to eat. Blue took a cig and smoked that as he looked over Dillion. " Hi. I'm Blue. This is my team, we are from the Federal Police with varying specialties." He took a drag before continuing, " We are here to locate and apprehend or kill a group of terrorists who attacked a shopping center and manged to kill a load of people. So, who are you?

OOC: Interrogate him.

IC:

Dillion sat in his chair with his face growing more pale every moment.
He seemed very disturbed by the fact that the agents from TPF just sat down and made themselves at home as if he wasnt even there.

"How about you folks just leave now and move along, I dont have any information for you."

"Go on then."