NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: sign up thread here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=552770

At this point, just RP your characters arriving, or if they are already in the nation, what they are doing initially. you can make up town or city names if you wish, as most of them are changed after the revolution.

IC:

Office of the Hegemon, Second United Kingdom, Present Day:
Lord Sumguy was unable to stifle a yawn as he drowsily pored over the papers that were scattered across his desk. He began organizing them, dark circles visible under his eyes, the recent developements with Neo-Ixania and his wife's deteriorating health having kept him up for days. An aide entered the room, placing yet more documents on a pile in one corner of the desk, and stifled a laugh as he heard the Hegemon groan loudly at the arrival of more work.

As he scanned the latest paper, the Hegemon's eyes began to droop, and before long he was unable to comprehend what he was reading. Within minutes he was fast asleep among the papers, as memories from long ago, played across his mind....


Eighteen Years Ago, Abandoned Warehouse, Sumguaia (then known as Garrengrad):

A small group of men stood in a corner of the empty warehouse, in which a makeshift church altar had been set up and looked at a small telivision, which was showing a news report by the government owned National News Agency.

"earlier today, our glorious leader visited the town of Three Forks to console the citizens of the village, where a mine tragically collapsed last week." A smiling female reporter was saying. images were shown of an aging man dressed in a military trench coat patting the head of a young child, who was giving him a flower. Several mirthless laughs sounded from the watching men as the reporter spoke.

"In other news," the "reporter" continued, "a small group of religious extremists violently attacked officers of the People's Domestic Watch, but were quickly subdued by the brave defenders of order and peace within the Dominion. Two officers were reported as wounded in the attack by these religious terrorists. It is suspected that the terrorists were planning to use the men as sacrfices to their non-existant god, who they beleive will bring ruin and destruction upon the worker's paradise that is the Dominion."

"Turn that filth off." One of the men said, breaking the silence of the group, as one of the others leaned forward to do as he asked. "It gets more ridiculous every day." Muhammad Al-Omari said, lighting a cigarette. "Human sacrifice, small group of terrorists, utter garbage." He was wearing all white and red, as were the other men, and had a green crescent painted onto the back of his shirt.

"Odd, that they classify 2,000 rioters as a small group these days." His friend, the Reverend Thomas Shmidt said, sitting on the table. "And only two secret policemen injured! Here we were thinking that dozens had been killed! Silly us!" He laughed, and began wiping a large, bloodstained cross that he was carrying with a handkercheif. "That's not important though, did you manage to get anything Smith?"

A third man, more than seven feet tall, dwarfing the others in the building, laughed loudly. "Did we get anything? We got their entire armory while the whole division was out chasing after you! They even had heavy machineguns in there, you are lucky they weren't feeling particularly murderous today. The weapons are at the church, I gave 'em to that Wall fellow."

"I dont much know what to make of him." Al-Omari said. "He seems rather odd and distant to me."

"Well, he's the best fighter I've ever seen." Shmidt replied. "And at a time like this, I dont think likeability is the first thing we should be looking for in an ally."

"Yeah, well what about that other guy who came with him? I heard it was him that started this whole underground movement. I hear folks a bit down south call him "the liberator". Kinda wierd if you ask me."

"I dont know," Smith said. "I like him. He's the kind of man you naturally want to follow, the kind you sorta trust instinctively to do whats best."

The others nodded solemnly in agreement. "Not bad for a couple of country boys, eh?" Al-Omari said, getting a chuckle from the rest.

Eighteen years ago

Sasha, Greal

Sasha, then, was growing, it had 2 million people living in the city. People were heading to work, there were riots sometimes, but Bill Watson's army and police stopped the riots. Spies were everywhere, spying on their own people to see if they were engaged in Democratic groups responsible for the riots. Frank Jackson was always causing the riots.

Mel Watson read the news at a bar, more wars, riots, massacres around the world, nothing worth mentioning. Mel missed being with his kids, but he had a duty to do for Greal. Mel's cell phone rang.

"John speaking." said Mel, he always said John, since it was his fake name

"This is Eagle one, get to nest 34 now, Hawk is here." said the voice on the phone.

"John out." said Mel, then he walked out of the bar, threw away the cell phone in a trash can, after destroying some key parts of the phone. He took a cab and headed to a random hotel, then stopped, paid the driver, then he waited for the cab to go out of sight, then he walked down the street toward the Greal Intelligence Agency (GIA) headquarters.

He went in, he was scanned for weapons, he had a Glock on, which was removed. He showed his badge, and that too was scanned, then he was allowed his Glock back.

"Hes waiting." said one of the staff walking with Mel away from the Security checkpoints.

"I know, sorry I kept him long, traffic in Sasha." said Mel, Mel and the other person walked toward an office marked "Director". Mel knocked on the door.

"Come in." said a voice inside the door.

Mel opened the door, in front of him was a big desk, and a very tall man standing. The director got a reputation as the tallest man in the GIA.

"Mel, its good to see you again, the last mission was almost a disaster." said the Director.

"Well, like I said, it was not my fault, those Patherians found my team-"Mel was interrupted by the Director.

"I did not have you to come all this way to be blamed by me. No, you have a new assignment.

Mel stared in shock at the Director for a few second, the last mission was a disaster, half of Mel's team was killed.

"What? Sir? Do you think thats a wise idea?" asked Mel, a little nervous.

"This time, you will not be leading a team, it will be a single man mission." said the Director forcefully.

"Where?"

"You ever heard of the People's Dominion?" asked the Director.

Mel thought for a second, then he realized the director was talking about the country that bordered Greal. "Yes, why?"

"Thats where the mission is." said the director quietly."There has been riots lately against the communist government there, and you have orders to help whoever is leading the riots and also give them weapons."

"Anything else I need to know?" asked Mel.

"Yes, good luck, you are going to need it."

United States of Zoingo, Canalive City
Eighteen years ago...

Roland walked the dark sidestreets of the newley crowned capital of the states. It was suprising to him that after years of opression, the government refused to opperate any longer, giving up its power without its need for violence.
"Funny," he thought, "Even when not put to a gun, people can still cooperate."
Roland met the required destination in one of the darkest allyways he had ever seen. His comission into Zoingo's new secret service as well as his quick gain in rank caught the attention of apparently, someone in the government....

"Welcome Roland, we have a mission for you," a shady figure said out of the allyway. He approached Roland, wearing very dark clothes, and a wide brimed hat to conceal himself.

"Im listining..." Roland said attentively, he studied is employer carefully and on guard.

"The House of Commons is greatly interested in your quick ability to catch several terrorists, most notibly, Count von Grelin, who tried to restablish the dictatorship several months ago. And you must excuse my shaddyness, there is dark all around...and evil is everywhere." The man said cautiously.

"Of course, my admission into the House has been accepted for the lower county of Sant Aline, and I hope to further help rid this country of its remaining evils. Isn't that correct, Lord Marican?" He smiled as he looked at his employer.

"How!?...Did you know...." the man said in shock.

"Maybe next time, you shouldn't wear the Parilament Head's cuffs when you try to conceal your identity, as well as wearing fancy dress under the robes that you put on....Now what is it? Im not impatient, just anxious," Roland commented.

"Right...well, the House, Senate, and the President are fully aware that there are incresingly larger and more intense armed uprisings occuring around the country to the south of us.... Dominion. The States are not ready to take on such a feat as to help them in the open, but we have learned, that there are very point sources that may be sturring up trouble."

"You mean rebels?" Roland asked.

"Precisely, and your mission is to find out more about them, and help their cause at all costs. The agency gave me this compacted belt which should have all the gadgets you will need on this mission." Lord Marican explained.

"And this is without backup?"

"You are the most trusted agent that the country, and unfortunately, going alone is the only option we have....."

"So I am to immediatly leave?"

"Yes, by train, then by vehicle to the border, good luck Roland, Zoingo, as well as those fighting, believe in you...."

The two turned away, to say the conversation never happened. After going for a last bit look through the heart of the city, Roland entered the brightly lit train station. And as he boarded a train for Racklonfield, he turned to the sky, wondering if he may come back from such a dangerous mission.

It was a long journey to the border of the Dominion, he borrowed a Humvee from the army and headed toward the Dominion border, the drive took 18 hours, and he slept at a motel on the road, then he got to the border by the end of the next day.

The border was quiet, a border guard post stopped him and checked him before Mel was allowed to cross the border. Mel skillfully avoided the Dominion border posts and got through the border through a thick forest. He had 2 Glcoks, and a lot of money with him, mostly Dominion money.

He was now in the Dominion, and made his way to Garrengrad.

Garrengrad, Dominion

Mel walked through the streets of Garrengrad wondering how the hell was he going to contact the people in charge of the riots.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

"Well, no better place to start than in the capital," Roland thought as he wandered through the city. Indeed, it was hard to find evidence from his standpoint of any trace of either rebels, or any sort of head of the conflict. This really stumped him, but, he was fully aware that this would not be easy.

Roland then bumped into someone (Mel).

"Excuse me...." he said, and then started to walk off. But something about the person caught his attention and detectiveness, he ran back to catch up with him.

"You by chance wouldn't be foreign, would you?" He asked.

People's Dominion, Garrengrad:

The streets of the city were almost entirely deserted, with only an occasional citizen going out to buy something. None of the toher people on the streets made eye contact with the two men, looking fearfully about them and keeping as much distance as possible instead. Grafitti lined the buildings, the most common image being a cross, crescent, and star of david forming a triangle, the word Resist underneath.

Unknown to Mel and Roland, a small group of secret policemen had been trailing the two for some time, and as they stopped began to casually approach them, some distance apart from each other. To a foreigner, they would just seem to be ordinary men with no relation to one another, going about their daily business.

On one of the rooftops, seen by no-one, another man watched the pair. He was dressed entirely in black, and wearing a long coat. A white cross painted on the back of his coat and a preist's collar were the only abberations among the otherwise uniform black dress. He crouched as he observed the two, a large steel cross with a wooden handle laying beside him.

ooc: can't keep going untill Greal gets here....

"We're going in hard! Brace for impact!" Screamed the pilots only a moment before his head exploded, splattering his brain across the windshield of the Huey. The three men aboard grabbed onto whatever they could find; Unfortunately one of the men was thrown from the helicopter to meet his gruesome end.
Jonathan Hasley wrapped his hands around his seat and turned his head to look at the altimeter
60 feet, 50 feet, 40, 30, 20, 10....
Zero.
All Jon could see was what looked like the blurred image of what seemed to be his helicopter; However, something was wrong. he was looking up and he was sure that he was looking out the side of the helicopter. He thought for what seemed like an hour until he thought
'The chopper is on it's side, you dumbass'
He shook his head to try and see properly. He noticed a figure over him...
Drawing his M9, he fired a shot past his head, but was quickly disarmed
"Damnit Jon, you nearly shot my ear off!" Screamed Hogart, throwing the pistol across the helicopter
"Sorry Colonel, I thought you were one of them" Jon answered weakly
"One of Who?" Queried Hogart
"The guys who shot us down"
"Ah. We should get out of here, they could be here any minute with search parties"
"Then Let's get moving, we need to cover alot of ground in a short amount of time" He helped Jon up and lifted him out of the wrecked helicopter
"Don't forget you M16" Hogart tossed him his rifle.
"OOH-RAH!" He shouted enthusiastically as his comrade threw a grenade into the helicopter
Boom.
"That ought to keep them from taking that design"
Jon laughed before turning around and watching the helicopter go up in flames
"Commies will have a hard time putting that one back together"

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

"Well, no better place to start than in the capital," Roland thought as he wandered through the city. Indeed, it was hard to find evidence from his standpoint of any trace of either rebels, or any sort of head of the conflict. This really stumped him, but, he was fully aware that this would not be easy.

Roland then bumped into someone (Mel).

"Excuse me...." he said, and then started to walk off. But something about the person caught his attention and detectiveness, he ran back to catch up with him.

"You by chance wouldn't be foreign, would you?" He asked.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel at first barely noticed the man say ” Excuse me”, then the man caught up with him and asked some about if he was foreign.

Mel of course was suspicious that the man (Roland) asked him a question.

“Yes, I’m foreign, I’m from Greal.” Said Mel, there was no point denying the fact that he was a foreigner, he looked foreign.

Sanderson stood in front of the TLO church in New Tortuga, waiting for a priest of the Order, who was apparently a member of their secret Section 3 unit.

He had been given his orders by Apollo, and then had been ushered out the front door of the Puzzle Palace to wait for the Black Ops Priest.

Waiting, he pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. The day was warm, and he did not enjoy the heat against his suit.

Sanderson stood in front of the TLO church in New Tortuga, waiting for a priest of the Order, who was apparently a member of their secret Section 3 unit.

He had been given his orders by Apollo, and then had been ushered out the front door of the Puzzle Palace to wait for the Black Ops Priest.

Waiting, he pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. The day was warm, and he did not enjoy the heat against his suit.

Even in his black shirt and slacks, Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa didn't sweat in the warm heat of the day. Though, he suspected that was mainly due to the fact that he was driving his lamborghini at speeds that would get anyone else arrested.

Getting close to Annunciation Cathedral where he was to meet the RSB Field Officer named only Sanderson, he slowed down, and pulled in right in front of the only man wearing a tie in the area.

Rolling down his window, he nodded to the man, "Get in, we need to get to the airfield soon. Our flight is scheduled to leave immediately"

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel at first barely noticed the man say ” Excuse me”, then the man caught up with him and asked some about if he was foreign.

Mel of course was suspicious that the man (Roland) asked him a question.

“Yes, I’m foreign, I’m from Greal.” Said Mel, there was no point denying the fact that he was a foreigner, he looked foreign.

"Can I....Listen, your foreign, I'm foreign...and I think we are being watched." Roland said and slightly turned his head to some suspicious characters down the street. He then nudged the Greal man down an allyway.

"Look, I know a spy when I see one. And don't get me wrong....I am a service man too, from the MI3 secret service in Zoingo." Roland blatenly put out to him.
"And if your wondering why I thought you were a spy, it was you concealed your ID the way most espionage agents do, and it stood out to me in these hardly-populated streets. Don't worry, I just have a knack for this inference." Roland smiled slightly.

Even in his black shirt and slacks, Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa didn't sweat in the warm heat of the day. Though, he suspected that was mainly due to the fact that he was driving his lamborghini at speeds that would get anyone else arrested.

Getting close to Annunciation Cathedral where he was to meet the RSB Field Officer named only Sanderson, he slowed down, and pulled in right in front of the only man wearing a tie in the area.

Rolling down his window, he nodded to the man, "Get in, we need to get to the airfield soon. Our flight is scheduled to leave immediately"

Sanderson tossed his cigarette on the ground, and ground it out. He looked at the car, and sighed, the Knights got all the good materials. Walking over, he opened the passenger door, and sat down. Fastening his seat belt, he looked over to appraise the Knight.

His sword, a badge of office, was visible on the ceiling, and his badge clearly spoke of Section 3.

"So, your the Knight I am assigned to work with eh? Any idea on what is going on? All they told me was that we were to support some group called the Abrahamic League as they topple the government."

"Can I....Listen, your foreign, I'm foreign...and I think we are being watched." Roland said and slightly turned his head to some suspicious characters down the street. He then nudged the Greal man down an allyway.

"Look, I know a spy when I see one. And don't get me wrong....I am a service man too, from the MI3 secret service in Zoingo." Roland blatenly put out to him.
"And if your wondering why I thought you were a spy, it was you concealed your ID the way most espionage agents do, and it stood out to me in these hardly-populated streets. Don't worry, I just have a knack for this inference." Roland smiled slightly.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel noticed the men now, he realized that they had been followed. He walked into the alleyway with him, and whispered.
“You’re from Zoingo? Ah, that nation we had war with two hundred years ago.” Said Mel remembering that in his history books. “I guess you are here for the same reason as I am, try to get the commies out of this place.”

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel noticed the men now, he realized that they had been followed. He walked into the alleyway with him, and whispered.
“You’re from Zoingo? Ah, that nation we had war with two hundred years ago.” Said Mel remembering that in his history books. “I guess you are here for the same reason as I am, try to get the commies out of this place.”

"Precisely, although the whole war part we wish to pass over." Roland quitely agreed back.
"Our main goal is to I guess, find someone who is the head of all of these uprisings. But im afraid that I am stumped." Roland added disapointingly.

"Precisely, although the whole war part we wish to pass over." Roland quitely agreed back.
"Our main goal is to I guess, find someone who is the head of all of these uprisings. But im afraid that I am stumped." Roland added disapointingly.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

“I guess, we could work together to find the leader of this “rebellion". I’m Mel Watson.” Said Mel, he checked the alley to make sure they were not cornered by the men, but there were more alleys around. He gripped his Glock uneasily, watching around.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

“I guess, we could work together to find the leader of this “rebellion". I’m Mel Watson.” Said Mel, he checked the alley to make sure they were not cornered by the men, but there were more alleys around. He gripped his Glock uneasily, watching around.

"Im Roland Massaquine," Roland said as he took out a 'pen'.

"Explosive," he explained.

"Im Roland Massaquine," Roland said as he took out a 'pen'.

"Explosive," he explained.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

“I see, very nice, I have some explosive also, in my suitcase here.” Said mel pointing at the suitcase. The suitcase looked very small.
“Did you bring any other weapons Roland?” asked Mel, Mel knew that he was breaking a rule that said do not work with other intelligence agencies, but he needed help, his last team mission was a disaster, and he was afraid to work alone.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

“I see, very nice, I have some explosive also, in my suitcase here.” Said mel pointing at the suitcase. The suitcase looked very small.
“Did you bring any other weapons Roland?” asked Mel, Mel knew that he was breaking a rule that said do not work with other intelligence agencies, but he needed help, his last team mission was a disaster, and he was afraid to work alone.

"Yes, but this is just a part of the weaken and then attack technique...I do have a Walther P5 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walther_P5)." Roland replied.

Sanderson tossed his cigarette on the ground, and ground it out. He looked at the car, and sighed, the Knights got all the good materials. Walking over, he opened the passenger door, and sat down. Fastening his seat belt, he looked over to appraise the Knight.

His sword, a badge of office, was visible on the ceiling, and his badge clearly spoke of Section 3.

"So, your the Knight I am assigned to work with eh? Any idea on what is going on? All they told me was that we were to support some group called the Abrahamic League as they topple the government."

"That I am, name's Monroe." He looked over and stuck out his hand as he stepped on the accelerator and pushed his car to it's limits.

"So far as I can tell, there are some religious men and women seeking to free themselves. As far as the church is concerned, we are mainly worried about the persecution of Christians that is occurring. Normally we would send in an invasion force, but we want to keep a low profile right now. There fore, they sent me. Figured they needed a Section 3 guy for this."

Fr. Monroe tore down the roads, until he came to the airport. A waiting private jet bearing the symbols of the Church sat there. Fr. Monroe parked his car, and grabbed the sword from the rack, and put the sheath on his belt.

He led his opposite number from RSB into the plane, and sat down. A brother of the order fetched him a glass of water, and a clipboard, showing that the AK-47's and ammunition where on board.

Once the RSB officer was aboard, the plane would take off, using their diplomatic status to fly over the nation, and drop the two men and their weapons over the target area, and link up with AL forces.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

“I see, very nice, I have some explosive also, in my suitcase here.” Said mel pointing at the suitcase. The suitcase looked very small.
“Did you bring any other weapons Roland?” asked Mel, Mel knew that he was breaking a rule that said do not work with other intelligence agencies, but he needed help, his last team mission was a disaster, and he was afraid to work alone.

As the pair walked through an alley, the opening at the end of it was suddenly blocked by three figures, who began slowly walking towards the two. Two more appeared behind them. Up on a nearby rooftop, the man in black frowned, twisting the handle of his cross, as short blades sprung out of the ends.

"A good evening to you, gentlemen." One of the two men who had appeared behing Mel and Roland said, smiling maliciously as the fivc. "I'm afraid you are going to have to come with us for a bit of...light questioning. Oh, and I'm going to have to confiscate any money you have, to ensure it isnt counterfeit."

The man behind him laughed as he said this. His laugh stopped suddenly though, as he looked down at his chest in horror, where a blade had appeared. The face of the preist who had been on the rooftops appeared behind him, a grisly smile upon his features. He wrenched his cross out of the policeman, swinging it around and into the man who had spoken, nearly decapitating him as it passed through his neck. The man in black then drew a pistol and fired three shots, as a bullet entered the skulls of each of the policemen on the other side of the alley, one whistling past Mel's ear.

The preist in black turned back to the first man he had stabbed, who was now convulsing on the ground as blood filled his lungs. "Oh little lamb," he said, leaning down to look his dying in the eyes, "why did you not heed the sheperd's call?" He closed the man's eyes, who after a moment stopped breathing and ceased to move.

The preist stood up, and seeming only to just notice that he was covered in blood. He took out a tissue and wiped a few specks off of his face, before turning to Mel and Roland. "Greetings, my good sirs." He said, bowing. 'I am the Reverend Thomas Shmidt, welcome to the Dominion. May I ask what your purpose is in our fine nation?" He said, seming unaware that what had just occured was anything out of the ordinary.

"That I am, name's Monroe." He looked over and stuck out his hand as he stepped on the accelerator and pushed his car to it's limits.

"So far as I can tell, there are some religious men and women seeking to free themselves. As far as the church is concerned, we are mainly worried about the persecution of Christians that is occurring. Normally we would send in an invasion force, but we want to keep a low profile right now. There fore, they sent me. Figured they needed a Section 3 guy for this."

Fr. Monroe tore down the roads, until he came to the airport. A waiting private jet bearing the symbols of the Church sat there. Fr. Monroe parked his car, and grabbed the sword from the rack, and put the sheath on his belt.

He led his opposite number from RSB into the plane, and sat down. A brother of the order fetched him a glass of water, and a clipboard, showing that the AK-47's and ammunition where on board.

Once the RSB officer was aboard, the plane would take off, using their diplomatic status to fly over the nation, and drop the two men and their weapons over the target area, and link up with AL forces.

Sanderson followed the apparently crazy priest onto his plane, wondering if he was going to regret it. He loosened the 357 on his waist, and walked inside.

Sitting near the priest, he asked for a glass of water, and received it before the doors closed and the plane took off.

Gripping his seats, convinced that the pilot would drive as crazily as the priest, he sat back, and endured the take off.

As the pair walked through an alley, the opening at the end of it was suddenly blocked by three figures, who began slowly walking towards the two. Two more appeared behind them. Up on a nearby rooftop, the man in black frowned, twisting the handle of his cross, as short blades sprung out of the ends.

"A good evening to you, gentlemen." One of the two men who had appeared behing Mel and Roland said, smiling maliciously as the fivc. "I'm afraid you are going to have to come with us for a bit of...light questioning. Oh, and I'm going to have to confiscate any money you have, to ensure it isnt counterfeit."

The man behind him laughed as he said this. His laugh stopped suddenly though, as he looked down at his chest in horror, where a blade had appeared. The face of the preist who had been on the rooftops appeared behind him, a grisly smile upon his features. He wrenched his cross out of the policeman, swinging it around and into the man who had spoken, nearly decapitating him as it passed through his neck. The man in black then drew a pistol and fired three shots, as a bullet entered the skulls of each of the policemen on the other side of the alley, one whistling past Mel's ear.

The preist in black turned back to the first man he had stabbed, who was now convulsing on the ground as blood filled his lungs. "Oh little lamb," he said, leaning down to look his dying in the eyes, "why did you not heed the sheperd's call?" He closed the man's eyes, who after a moment stopped breathing and ceased to move.

The preist stood up, and seeming only to just notice that he was covered in blood. He took out a tissue and wiped a few specks off of his face, before turning to Mel and Roland. "Greetings, my good sirs." He said, bowing. 'I am the Reverend Thomas Shmidt, welcome to the Dominion. May I ask what your purpose is in our fine nation?" He said, seming unaware that what had just occured was anything out of the ordinary.

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel was about to take out his Glock to shoot the men when the men that surrounded them were killed in one swift motion. Mel now drew his pistol as a bullet went passed his ear.

A priest was in front of them. Mel was very surprised at what just happened.

"First off, we better head somewhere else, someone may have heard the gunshots." said Mel, not trusting the stranger.

Sanderson followed the apparently crazy priest onto his plane, wondering if he was going to regret it. He loosened the 357 on his waist, and walked inside.

Sitting near the priest, he asked for a glass of water, and received it before the doors closed and the plane took off.

Gripping his seats, convinced that the pilot would drive as crazily as the priest, he sat back, and endured the take off.

Fr. Monroe laughed at his opposite number, as the plane took off in a normal, smooth manner. Once they had reached cruising altitude, Fr. Monroe got up, and directed Sanderson to follow him.

"Here is the plan. You and I will drop over the Dominion, AK-47's and ammunition dropping with us, as well as two dirtbikes. We will be using those to do hit and run attacks once we do. You are jump trained aren't you? We requested specifically someone who was..."

Peoples Dominion, Garrengrad

Mel was about to take out his Glock to shoot the men when the men that surrounded them were killed in one swift motion. Mel now drew his pistol as a bullet went passed his ear.

A priest was in front of them. Mel was very surprised at what just happened.

"First off, we better head somewhere else, someone may have heard the gunshots." said Mel, not trusting the stranger.

"An exellent point." The man replied, taking a small explosive device out of under his clothing a presing a few buttons on it. He placed the object in a nearby trashcan. "Government men will be swarming this area soon, that ought to give them a nice suprise." He turned back to the two men. "If you will but folow me, I will take you to a place of relative safety."

"An exellent point." The man replied, taking a small explosive device out of under his clothing a presing a few buttons on it. He placed the object in a nearby trashcan. "Government men will be swarming this area soon, that ought to give them a nice suprise." He turned back to the two men. "If you will but folow me, I will take you to a place of relative safety."

Mel chuckled at the thought of commies being blasted by the bomb in the trashcan. Roland and Mel followed the man to "safety".

"Are you in charge of these "riots"?" asked Mel to the man.

Mel chuckled at the thought of commies being blasted by the bomb in the trashcan. Roland and Mel followed the man to "safety".

"Are you in charge of these "riots"?" asked Mel to the man.

"O, not I." Shmidt replied, leading the men down several streets to a deserted apartment building, and down into it's basement. "I am not the judge, but merely the executiioner." He said with a quiet, maddened laugh. "f you want to meet our leader, I'm afraid that won't be possible. After all, who are we to know you aren't assassins?" He opened a door, revealing a large group of men standing around a group of tables, where maps were laid. Everyone of them was dresed in red and white, and heavily armed.

"You been scaring foreigners, Thomas?" One of the men said, approaching the three. "You are going to maker us all look like insane killers if you keep getting so much blood on yourself. G wash yourself off."

The preist dismissed the man's comment with a wave. "They shoul'd be able to stand a bit of blood, there's a war on after all." He walked off, in the direction of a small shower that had been set up.

"I'm sorry about him." the othe rman said, when Shmidt was out of earshot. "He's a bit...eccentric I'm afraid. He also happens to be better at killing people than anyone else here. I am Muhammad Al-Omari, commander of this Abrahamic League cell. My I enquire as to your names and origins?"

"O, not I." Shmidt replied, leading the men down several streets to a deserted apartment building, and down into it's basement. "I am not the judge, but merely the executiioner." He said with a quiet, maddened laugh. "f you want to meet our leader, I'm afraid that won't be possible. After all, who are we to know you aren't assassins?" He opened a door, revealing a large group of men standing around a group of tables, where maps were laid. Everyone of them was dresed in red and white, and heavily armed.

"You been scaring foreigners, Thomas?" One of the men said, approaching the three. "You are going to maker us all look like insane killers if you keep getting so much blood on yourself. G wash yourself off."

The preist dismissed the man's comment with a wave. "They shoul'd be able to stand a bit of blood, there's a war on after all." He walked off, in the direction of a small shower that had been set up.

"I'm sorry about him." the othe rman said, when Shmidt was out of earshot. "He's a bit...eccentric I'm afraid. He also happens to be better at killing people than anyone else here. I am Muhammad Al-Omari, commander of this Abrahamic League cell. My I enquire as to your names and origins?"


Mel looked around at everyone heavily armed, and decided it was best to answer this Omari person.

"I am Mel Watson, from Greal. You may have heard of my father." said Mel. He put the suitcase he had down, it had explosives, though none of them were in danger of going off.

Fr. Monroe laughed at his opposite number, as the plane took off in a normal, smooth manner. Once they had reached cruising altitude, Fr. Monroe got up, and directed Sanderson to follow him.

"Here is the plan. You and I will drop over the Dominion, AK-47's and ammunition dropping with us, as well as two dirtbikes. We will be using those to do hit and run attacks once we do. You are jump trained aren't you? We requested specifically someone who was..."

"Oh dear lord, you were in that insane motorcycle gang your church calls their army weren't you?"

Sighing, Sanderson knew that he had pissed off his opposite number, even before he showed it.

"Okay, let's get on with it. I want to check these guns and ammo before we get there, wouldn't do to accidentally kill one of their leaders cause the gun blows up from a bad bullet..."

"Oh dear lord, you were in that insane motorcycle gang your church calls their army weren't you?"

Sighing, Sanderson knew that he had pissed off his opposite number, even before he showed it.

"Okay, let's get on with it. I want to check these guns and ammo before we get there, wouldn't do to accidentally kill one of their leaders cause the gun blows up from a bad bullet..."

Fr. Monroe's face clouded, and his hand shifted almost imperceptibly toward his sword. In the streets, he would have challenged Sanderson to a duel, but no, he had to work with the guy.

"If you knew how often that "Insane Motorcycle Gang" had saved your life, you would speak differently."

Stalking off down the hall, he went to the back, where a jump ramp, and four pallets where visible. On two fo them, a single dirtbike with survival pack was visible, strapped down tight, while on the other two where boxes of AK-47's and ammunition.

Fr. Monroe tossed a parachute to his opposite. "Put that on, and then grab your drop bag. All the weapons and ammo you will need will be in there, until you can get to your bike and out of your chute."

Mel looked around at everyone heavily armed, and decided it was best to answer this Omari person.

"I am Mel Watson, from Greal. You may have heard of my father." said Mel. He put the suitcase he had down, it had explosives, though none of them were in danger of going off.

Of course, the whole fiasco shocked Roland at first, but then, he followed Mel's lead and stated himself.

"I am Roland Massaquine, from Zoingo's ZI3 espionage agency." he said. Roland then took of his belt, of which contained at least nerve gas, explosives, and a phone that doubled as a GPS and a stun gun. He then took out a deck of cards, poped open the secret compartment, and got out his passport.

Fr. Monroe's face clouded, and his hand shifted almost imperceptibly toward his sword. In the streets, he would have challenged Sanderson to a duel, but no, he had to work with the guy.

"If you knew how often that "Insane Motorcycle Gang" had saved your life, you would speak differently."

Stalking off down the hall, he went to the back, where a jump ramp, and four pallets where visible. On two fo them, a single dirtbike with survival pack was visible, strapped down tight, while on the other two where boxes of AK-47's and ammunition.

Fr. Monroe tossed a parachute to his opposite. "Put that on, and then grab your drop bag. All the weapons and ammo you will need will be in there, until you can get to your bike and out of your chute."

Sanderson donned the parachute and attached the drop bag to the front of his chest. Automatically, he found himself inspecting the Kalashnikov he found in his hands. It looked in good working order, and like it was going to work out fine.

Snapping a clip into the magazine, he pulled back the receiver bolt and snapped the weapon's safety on. He could understand why the Knights would use the weapon, he just wished that the TAP'ians had a weapon as good as this one.

"Interesting." Al-Omari said, smiling. "I didn't know that our nation's little conflict was of any interest to our neighbors. First things first, If you want to survive for very long here, youa re going to need a bit better methods of self protection." He called to one of the other men in the country's native language, and less than a minute later an assortment of handguns and rifles were placed on the table in front of them. "Take your pick." Al-Omari said. "So, I'm guessing you are here to help us then?"

Sanderson donned the parachute and attached the drop bag to the front of his chest. Automatically, he found himself inspecting the Kalashnikov he found in his hands. It looked in good working order, and like it was going to work out fine.

Snapping a clip into the magazine, he pulled back the receiver bolt and snapped the weapon's safety on. He could understand why the Knights would use the weapon, he just wished that the TAP'ians had a weapon as good as this one.

Fr. Monroe did the same, checking his weapon. Then, once assured that it was in good order, he went over and checked the cargo ejection system. Once assured that it was good, he flicked a switch to the pilot that alerted him to their readiness to jump.

The plane banked, and penetrated Dominion airspace. The pilot looked calm, almost as if he had done this many times before. As they flew, the pilot pointed the plane in the direction of the capital, where his orders where to drop the two people on the far side of the city and then fly onwards to meet a TAP'ian refueling craft and fly back to The American Privateer.

"Interesting." Al-Omari said, smiling. "I didn't know that our nation's little conflict was of any interest to our neighbors. First things first, If you want to survive for very long here, youa re going to need a bit better methods of self protection." He called to one of the other men in the country's native language, and less than a minute later an assortment of handguns and rifles were placed on the table in front of them. "Take your pick." Al-Omari said. "So, I'm guessing you are here to help us then?"

"Wow, this is a bit embarrasing," Roland thought as he looked at the assortment of weapons. He decided to go with one of the other handguns......

"Yes, our intention, or at least my government's intention, is to indeed help the resistance group and find some sort of leader to back." Roland replied.

The door opened, and Fr. Monroe jumped free. His chute opened up immediately as the low flying aircraft flew over head. Looking back, he saw the two bikes pull out without a hitch, but swore loud and long as the guns and ammo jammed in their delivery chute.

Aiming at the ground, he knew he was still going to be moving to fast when he hit, so he cut his chute a short distance above the ground and tucked himself into a ball. Rolling, he swore as he hit his arm against a rock. Finally coming to a stop against a tree, he had the air knocked out of him, and was forced to rub his side, as he lay on the ground moaning.

Sanderson landed not far from the bikes, and rushed to get his pack off. His legs were sore, but otherwise he was fine. Looking back at the plane, he swore about the guns and ammo, and got back to work. He finished getting them unwrapped, and donned one of the packs that had been set out for them. He laughed when he saw that his helmet had been painted with a ferret. It was an old joke in TAP that RSB where Ferrets, so the joke wasn't lost on him. When he saw the helmet of his ally painted like an armored helm, he began to wonder.

Hearing the moans, he ran into a small wooded area, and found the priest laying there. "Come on Padre, we only got a few minuets before the sheriff shows up."

Sanderson helped his partner over to the bikes, and sat Fr. Monroe on his.

"Can you ride?"

"Wow, this is a bit embarrasing," Roland thought as he looked at the assortment of weapons. He decided to go with one of the other handguns......

"Yes, our intention, or at least my government's intention, is to indeed help the resistance group and find some sort of leader to back." Roland replied.

"Well, we have one, though I'm afraid you wont be able to meet him personally. You will hear him reffered to as 'Sumguy', which means 'the liberator' in our native tongue. What sort of aid is your government sending? Funds? Weapons?" Al-Omari asked. "By all means, take as many weapons as you need, I fear you will have to use them soon enough."

Sanderson landed not far from the bikes, and rushed to get his pack off. His legs were sore, but otherwise he was fine. Looking back at the plane, he swore about the guns and ammo, and got back to work. He finished getting them unwrapped, and donned one of the packs that had been set out for them. He laughed when he saw that his helmet had been painted with a ferret. It was an old joke in TAP that RSB where Ferrets, so the joke wasn't lost on him. When he saw the helmet of his ally painted like an armored helm, he began to wonder.

Hearing the moans, he ran into a small wooded area, and found the priest laying there. "Come on Padre, we only got a few minuets before the sheriff shows up."

Sanderson helped his partner over to the bikes, and sat Fr. Monroe on his.

"Can you ride?"

Fr. Monroe took a deep breath, and then nodded. He placed his own helm on his head, and grabbed his bag. Revving his bike, he rode towards the city, leading Sanderson into the empty streets of the Dominion's capital.

Fr. Monroe took a deep breath, and then nodded. He placed his own helm on his head, and grabbed his bag. Revving his bike, he rode towards the city, leading Sanderson into the empty streets of the Dominion's capital.

The streets were quiet, completely deserted. Not a single human being was in sight as they rode. Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire a block to the north, and another followed. The silence seemed to completely unfold to the sound of discharging weaponry. After several minutes a small group of men dressed in red and white came into view, all armed and apparently having just exited a firefight. Upon seeing the two on their bikes, several among the men trained their weapons on the two, though none fired.

The streets were quiet, completely deserted. Not a single human being was in sight as they rode. Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire a block to the north, and another followed. The silence seemed to completely unfold to the sound of discharging weaponry. After several minutes a small group of men dressed in red and white came into view, all armed and apparently having just exited a firefight. Upon seeing the two on their bikes, several among the men trained their weapons on the two, though none fired.

Sanderson's hand was on his rifle and the weapon flipped off safety instictively before he could even think about these men. Nodding to Fr. Monroe, he raised his visor, and spoke out clearly in the Ur Tongue, "Greetings, I am Sanderson, and this is Fr. James Monroe. May I ask your names?"

OOC: The Ur Tongue is the basis for the entire Indo-European Language Group. If they speak any English, Farsi, Latin, Persian, etc. they will understand the gist of what he is saying.

"Well, we have one, though I'm afraid you wont be able to meet him personally. You will hear him reffered to as 'Sumguy', which means 'the liberator' in our native tongue. What sort of aid is your government sending? Funds? Weapons?" Al-Omari asked. "By all means, take as many weapons as you need, I fear you will have to use them soon enough."

"Ah alas, this now conflicts because I was told specificly to give this government bank account number to the head of the resistance. And I am to trust no one untill I meet some head." Roland smiled as he took out a slip of paper from a cleverly disguised coin.
"Always with the safety measures," he thought as he took it out.

"The account does contain a fund of about a quarter-billion dollars, and is highly secure. As the new government of our country is now in order, unfortunatley we cannot send many weapons due to their scarecity at this time. However, we do have some unused ships in dock that can be used." He explained.

The streets were quiet, completely deserted. Not a single human being was in sight as they rode. Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire a block to the north, and another followed. The silence seemed to completely unfold to the sound of discharging weaponry. After several minutes a small group of men dressed in red and white came into view, all armed and apparently having just exited a firefight. Upon seeing the two on their bikes, several among the men trained their weapons on the two, though none fired.

The priest's hand was instinctively groping for his lance behind him, which had not been included due to the impracticality of transporting it, as he eyed the men aiming guns at him.

Sanderson's hand was on his rifle and the weapon flipped off safety instictively before he could even think about these men. Nodding to Fr. Monroe, he raised his visor, and spoke out clearly in the Ur Tongue, "Greetings, I am Sanderson, and this is Fr. James Monroe. May I ask your names?"

OOC: The Ur Tongue is the basis for the entire Indo-European Language Group. If they speak any English, Farsi, Latin, Persian, etc. they will understand the gist of what he is saying.

"Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa, get it right dude. Would you be with the Abrahamic League or the Dominion?"

The priest's hand was instinctively groping for his lance behind him, which had not been included due to the impracticality of transporting it, as he eyed the men aiming guns at him.



"Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa, get it right dude. Would you be with the Abrahamic League or the Dominion?"

Looking over them, Sanderson clicked his weapon to safe, and eased back, "Well, looking at the Religious Icons on you, I would assume that you are not Dominion. In that case, we are here to help. We had guns and ammo, but our plane was unable to drop them for some reason." With that he sent a glare over to the priest beside him. "I am with The American Privateer's Republic Security Bureau, and my testy friend here is with The Longinean Order's Section 3."

The men lowered their weapons, and from among them one emerged. He appeared to be the leader, as the others looked towards him expectantly. He wore a long red coat with a golden cross design upon the back. He also wore a cross-shaped iron pendant, and a small bible stuck out of his chest pocket. "I am afrad I am having some slight trouble understanding you." He said in English. "Do you speak Enlgish?" He then switched languages to modern Latin and continued. "If not, then do you speak Latin?"

"We're going in hard! Brace for impact!" Screamed the pilots only a moment before his head exploded, splattering his brain across the windshield of the Huey. The three men aboard grabbed onto whatever they could find; Unfortunately one of the men was thrown from the helicopter to meet his gruesome end.
Jonathan Hasley wrapped his hands around his seat and turned his head to look at the altimeter
60 feet, 50 feet, 40, 30, 20, 10....
Zero.
All Jon could see was what looked like the blurred image of what seemed to be his helicopter; However, something was wrong. he was looking up and he was sure that he was looking out the side of the helicopter. He thought for what seemed like an hour until he thought
'The chopper is on it's side, you dumbass'
He shook his head to try and see properly. He noticed a figure over him...
Drawing his M9, he fired a shot past his head, but was quickly disarmed
"Damnit Jon, you nearly shot my ear off!" Screamed Hogart, throwing the pistol across the helicopter
"Sorry Colonel, I thought you were one of them" Jon answered weakly
"One of Who?" Queried Hogart
"The guys who shot us down"
"Ah. We should get out of here, they could be here any minute with search parties"
"Then Let's get moving, we need to cover alot of ground in a short amount of time" He helped Jon up and lifted him out of the wrecked helicopter
"Don't forget you M16" Hogart tossed him his rifle.
"OOH-RAH!" He shouted enthusiastically as his comrade threw a grenade into the helicopter
Boom.
"That ought to keep them from taking that design"
Jon laughed before turning around and watching the helicopter go up in flames
"Commies will have a hard time putting that one back together"

*Cough*

"Well, we have one, though I'm afraid you wont be able to meet him personally. You will hear him reffered to as 'Sumguy', which means 'the liberator' in our native tongue. What sort of aid is your government sending? Funds? Weapons?" Al-Omari asked. "By all means, take as many weapons as you need, I fear you will have to use them soon enough."

"We can ship some weapons here." said Mel

The men lowered their weapons, and from among them one emerged. He appeared to be the leader, as the others looked towards him expectantly. He wore a long red coat with a golden cross design upon the back. He also wore a cross-shaped iron pendant, and a small bible stuck out of his chest pocket. "I am afrad I am having some slight trouble understanding you." He said in English. "Do you speak Enlgish?" He then switched languages to modern Latin and continued. "If not, then do you speak Latin?"

"We speak English. We have standing orders to use Ur on first contact with an organization. Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa of the Holy Order of the Knights of Saint Longinus at your service. My friend here is with our host nation's Republic Security Bureau, the man with one name, Sanderson. We are here to help."

"We speak English. We have standing orders to use Ur on first contact with an organization. Fr. James Monroe de Lenexa of the Holy Order of the Knights of Saint Longinus at your service. My friend here is with our host nation's Republic Security Bureau, the man with one name, Sanderson. We are here to help."

"That we are, that we are. Any chance we can be taken to a leadership officer, we need to make contact, and then contact our base. We were supposed to bring guns and ammo, but they didn't make it out of the plane, and we need to let our superiors know."

"Yu are not the only man with one name." The taller of the two men who had stepped forward said, smirking.

"If you need to speak with a leader among us, then you are very lucky." The man who had first spoken said. "I am, it would seem, the leader of this rebellion. I am afraid my name must not be known, as if the government were to know who I am all who I have cared for would be in great danger. The man with me is known as Wall." He said, and the other man bowed slightly. "We will escort you to a safer location, where we have communication equipment that you may use to contact your superiors."

Cazelian Helicopter Crash Site:

After several minutes, crashing noises could be heard in the distance, as a group of government troops looked through the area for the crashed helicopter.

"Yu are not the only man with one name." The taller of the two men who had stepped forward said, smirking.

"If you need to speak with a leader among us, then you are very lucky." The man who had first spoken said. "I am, it would seem, the leader of this rebellion. I am afraid my name must not be known, as if the government were to know who I am all who I have cared for would be in great danger. The man with me is known as Wall." He said, and the other man bowed slightly. "We will escort you to a safer location, where we have communication equipment that you may use to contact your superiors."

.

"Thank you." said Mel." I need to communicate with my superiors right away."

"Yu are not the only man with one name." The taller of the two men who had stepped forward said, smirking.

"If you need to speak with a leader among us, then you are very lucky." The man who had first spoken said. "I am, it would seem, the leader of this rebellion. I am afraid my name must not be known, as if the government were to know who I am all who I have cared for would be in great danger. The man with me is known as Wall." He said, and the other man bowed slightly. "We will escort you to a safer location, where we have communication equipment that you may use to contact your superiors."

Cazelian Helicopter Crash Site:

After several minutes, crashing noises could be heard in the distance, as a group of government troops looked through the area for the crashed helicopter.

Sanderson smirked at remark to his "One name" as his overacting Longinean partner had said. "Thank you for that. We apologize for not having more with us, but such is fate. Until then, should we walk our motorcycles, or do you have a means of transportation besides your own two feet?"

"We will be walking, though the location is not far off." The man said, and turned, motioning for them to follow. "I would advise you keep your weapons ready, as this is by no means a peaceful area." As if to drive his point home, another burst of gunfire could be heard int he distance, and an explosion sent a cloud of dust and ash into the air several blocks away.


OOC: Greal, that was LS talking, not Al-Omari. Zoingo, he wont be able to meet LS, as that would conflict with other Rp's in which they were both involved


IC:
"I am afraid that meeting him will be impossible. After all, how are we to know you are not in fact assassins? You may give the account number to me or anyone else here and we will ensure it is given to him in turn." Al-Omari said, still smiling. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

OOC: Greal, that was LS talking, not Al-Omari. Zoingo, he wont be able to meet LS, as that would conflict with other Rp's in which they were both involved


IC:
"I am afraid that meeting him will be impossible. After all, how are we to know you are not in fact assassins? You may give the account number to me or anyone else here and we will ensure it is given to him in turn." Al-Omari said, still smiling. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

ooc: Okay

"Well, you cant allways win, but I guess this will suffice." Roland contemplated in his mind.

"Alright then....here it is." Roland handed Al-Omari the slip of paper. "Now, we are here to help you in any ways possible, sabotage, assasinations, skirmishes, espionage, you name it." He commented.

ooc: Okay

"Well, you cant allways win, but I guess this will suffice." Roland contemplated in his mind.

"Alright then....here it is." Roland handed Al-Omari the slip of paper. "Now, we are here to help you in any ways possible, sabotage, assasinations, skirmishes, espionage, you name it." He commented.

"Same for us, no, I would like to contact my superiors, they are probably want confirmation that I contacted you guys."

"We will be walking, though the location is not far off." The man said, and turned, motioning for them to follow. "I would advise you keep your weapons ready, as this is by no means a peaceful area." As if to drive his point home, another burst of gunfire could be heard int he distance, and an explosion sent a cloud of dust and ash into the air several blocks away.

Sanderson shrugged, looked over to the priest with a look of resignation, and hopped off his bike. Pushing it along, he kept one hand on his gun, and ducked involuntarily at the sound of gunfire. He had been in Port San Lucas when the first NOVA uprising took place, and had some combat reflexes left in him. He didn't even think about ducking from the blast, but his eyes did dart in that direction.

"You weren't kidding about this not being peaceful..."

Fr. Monroe nodded to Sanderson, and dismounted. He had his hand on his own AK, and made his way forward. He too ducked at the sound of gunfire, though unlike Sanderson, he flinched at the sound of explosion.

"Ain't that the truth."

He turned to the leader, "If we cannot have a name, may we at least have a psuedonym? Surely you have something by which we can call you. I am sure that 'Hey-you' (OOC: he pronounced it similar to the spanish version of Jesus) will get tiresome after a while."