NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This was pre-arranged via IRC. Nobody except those with whom the war was planned may enter unless they TG me a damn good reason for doing so.

IC:
Prestonia. A nation pushing 2 billion people. A proud nation, in spite of it's status internationally. Once a proud member of UFAN, a member of the RGL and an all-around model state, the past decade had seen Prestonia's status sink like a rock. UFAN had shattered, aided by Vetaka's defeat at the hands of the Ennusians, and started a chain-reaction that sent Prestonia into the realm of the third world. Without allies, Prestonia drifted between the Royal Georgian League and members of Gholgoth, searching desperately for a group to fill the void and losing international prestige along the way. Added to this mixture was a recessing economy, the demise of UFAN having cut foreign trade by over 75%. By the time Prestonia had "settled down" in the Lystad Pact, it had endured two separate revolutions, including the one that had brought the current President to power.

It was on all this that the current President, Aaron H. Preston's mind was fixated. He was getting on in his years, having recently turned 65, and the stress of recent times had taken a toll on his health. He was just barely retaining his grip on power, with the populace becoming increasingly irritated with the economic situation. He was doing all he knew how to do in an attempt to stimulate the economy, but to little avail. The only by-product of his reforms seemed to be more depression and more dissent.

It was hardly surprising to him when the letter from the National Prestonian Party, a right-wing radical group with a strong showing in the eastern portion of the nation announcing the secession of the eastern states of Prestonia, and the formation of the Armed Republic of the National Prestonian Party. After a brief meeting with his cabinet (or what remained of it, after those who had resigned or been killed by the angry mobs), Preston met with two of his most trusted advisers, one of whom had been President himself.

"What happened to Prestonia?," he remarked sadly, addressing former President Justin Gannon. "We used to be a beacon of hope for the world, now look at us! Yet another a civil war laid before me, before our nation. I can't do this anymore."

"Bullshit," replied Vice President Philip Katz in his typical no-nonsense manner. "You're the best President we've ever seen. If anyone can pull us together it's you."

"But that's just it isn't it?," Preston countered. "I can't pull it together. The eastern half of the nation seceded because of me. I don't have it anymore."

Neither of the two other men knew what to say to this, which they knew to be mostly fact.

A few hours later, Preston stood before a camera in the Presidential Mansion, prepared to do one of the hardest thing he had ever done.

My fellow Prestonians, this is your President speaking.

As I need not remind you, our once-proud nation has drifted into an economic ruin such that nothing I do can revive it. I want you, my people to know this: everything I have done, I have done for the good of Prestonia. However, as anyone can see, my actions have not been enough.

I believe in honor, and in doing things on my own terms. However, I also have the humility to recognize when the time has come to fold one's hand. It is for this reason therefore that I announce, effective immediately, my resignation from the Presidency of Prestonia.

Politics is and has always been a young man's game. Mr. Katz is as you know far younger than I. I believe he will be a more capable administrator than myself.

In conclusion, my retirement has come. It is time for the young lions to take control of the pride. I wish President Katz, and the rest of Prestonia, the best of luck. Thank you.

General Sherman stood overlooking a map of Prestonia, overlaid with the current border between the two Prestonias. A fragile peace now existed between Prestonia and the National Prestonian Party, but it was not sure to last for long. The uprising had been fast, and the Prestonian government was all too happy to allow the National Prestonian Party to seize land, up to a point. Now both of the factions were at their limit, caged in like a wild tiger. The brokered peace could only last for a few more months, if that. The NPP needed to prepare for war, and it needed to do so fast.

Around half the army had defected, along with around the same number of the Air Force. Luckily for Sherman, the majority of the Navy had been seized or defected with the NPP’s strong presence in Venice and complete domination of St. Andrews. Sherman had taken the liberty of relocating the capital of the party to St. Andrews, far out of the way of any battles for the moment, whereas the Prestonian headquarters appeared to remain in Hudson. Hudson, the pride of Prestonia, a bustling metropolis full of life, was sure to be among the hardest hit should war break lose. The situation was akin to that of Berlin, a city divided down the center, except for the fact that the barricades were much more hastily constructed. If a quick blow could be struck on Hudson for either side, the results upon the morale of their enemy could be crippling.

If there was one thing Sherman worried about, it was an uprising within his own secured territory. Pockets of resistance still stood in the back alleys of towns, and this could not be allowed. Thankfully, he had managed to rush thousands of young, patriotic men through quick secret police training. His personal Baduramas, his very own Gestapo. With their help, he had quietly identified more than seven thousand men and women, not including children, who opposed his rule. Over time, more and more names would come forth, and the Silent Purge, as it would come to be known, would begin to unify the National Prestonian Party under a common banner of fear. The deportations had already begun. Private military camps, most often used for boot camps to get individuals into shape, dotted the countryside. One, Saskatoon Internment Camp, was located just outside of Sarasota. SIC would become one of the most dreaded camps of them all during the next few months. If you were sent to one of the numerous other camps, you were at least allowed to toil on in despicable conditions with at least some hope for rescue. At SIC, you went to die. The typical life expectancy after arrival was around 3 hours, and simply put, those were not a pleasant three hours. As trucks started to pull out from crowded cities, many people would wake up in the morning wondering about the sudden vacation their coworker seemed to have taken. Any uprising would be swiftly crushed.

After UFAN collapsed, and amongst the Prestonian recession from the world stage, Sherman had managed to find some support amongst the Prestonian Cabinet, especially from former Prestonian Minister of Finance Thomas Hughes. Tom, as he was known, had transferred his loyalties to the NPP and was now directing the economy of the young state. It was under his advice that Sherman sat down to write a letter to the nations of the world.


OFFICIAL DIPLOMATIC COMMUNIQUE
<OPEN COMMUNICATION>
The National Prestonian Party has recently seceded from the scum of Prestonia. If our nation is to last long on this grand world stage, we require immediate assistance, be it financial or militarily. The heathens of Prestonia shall not consume us, us that have breathed the air of freedom!

- General Sherman
----Commandant of the National Prestonian Party
----Rightful Ruler of Prestonia

OOC: Kinda a challenge to RP someone else's nation from scratch XD

OOC: Check TG's Central Prestonia

Operations Room 1, Vetakan Defence Force High Command, New Theeb, Vetaka:

The Diplomatic Directorate's Attache within VDF High Command rarely had much to do. Mainly because in times of Emergency VDF High Command had a direct line to the Diplomatic Directorate Headquarters as well as a Direct Line to the Director of Foreign Affairs wherever she was in the World. However the Attache today was somewhat startled when the OBSAT encrypted Fax Machine burst into life and proceeded to print out a Code Red Message direct from the Directorate's Headquarters.

The Attache yanked it up and skimmed over it before sighing and placing it in a black leather file the words "Vetakan Defence Force High Command" in gold scrawled across it. Straightening up his robes he made his way out of his office down the corridor to an elevator nodding at the Guardsman he brushed past him and into the Lift. He withdrew his ID card from his pocked and swiped it briskly in a downwards motion within the Reader. It chimed in a agreeing tone and a number of buttons that had previously been red flashed green and the young Attache pressed a button which had the words "Operations Room 1" next to it. A few seconds past before the lift burst into life and began to descend into the ground deep below the surface of the VDF High Command building and into its depths. Around a minute later the doors opened and the Attache stepped out into the corridor walking forward past a Stairwell he stopped in front of two massive bulkhead reinforced doors nodding at two more Guardsman and yet again swiped his ID Card following a quick input of a access code at a keypad the bulky doors slid open revealing a hive of activity.

Stepping into the room the doors slid closed and the attache made his way across the massive control room nodding and smiling at various friends and acquaintances. Eventually he stopped in front of a door of a glass walled office smiling at the occupant he entered and beamed at the man behind the executive like desk. The occupant returned the smile and spoke:

"Cook good to see you, What do I owe this visit?"

"Code Red Message from the Directorate Stone" replied Cook

Cook handed the Supreme Operational Commander of the VDF the leather file whom flicked it open and read it over. Stones eyes flickered at its contents before he looked at Cook:

"This for Serious?" he enquired Stone

"The Directorate believes so and VSIS seem to agree. You knew Sherman right?" replied Cook

Stone's screwed his face up slightly before replying:

"Sort Of. We had a few isolated communications nothing major. Have the orders been approved by the Council?" asked Stone whom was really to lazy to have to confirm the orders himself.

Cook chuckled before replying:

"You and Peace still not speaking then? Christ Man it was just a Race in an Aston Martin and a Merc around New Theeb's Airbase."

Stone's eyes narrowed and spat:

"He shot my Wheels out with a E-57"

Cook sensing the tension rose from his chair smiled shook hands with Stone and left. Stone sighed and smiled before lifting his phone and proceeded dialling numbers relaying orders.

Nexus Class Hyper Carrier, Vetakan Defence Force Naval Ship (VDFNS) Aaron H. Preston, Joint Military Base Flanders, Honako:

The Massive Aircraft Carrier the largest operated by the Vetakan Defence Force sat proudly within the Joint Military Base Flanders flagship of the VDF's Flanders based force. Commanded by Grand Admiral Amjad Hussain and Seconded by Rear Admiral Julius Ochs Adler the Fleet was on the eve of returning to Vetaka having finished its tour of duty at Flanders. However its Islamic and Jewish Admirals a product of Vetakan Tolerance, Diversity and Acceptance were in for a surprise. They both sat deep in a game of Poker with a number of the other Senior Officers in the Captains Quarters when their was a short loud knock on the door. Looking up from his truly winning hand Admiral Amjad Hussain murmured:

"Enter"

An Seaman entered and saluted formally before handing the Admiral a small Tablet PC of which the Admiral prodded and poked and entered his fingerprint to access the secure communication. Reading it his eyes suddenly narrowed and he looked up across at his Jewish Second whom caught his Islamist Best Friends eye and spoke:

"Admiral?"

The Admiral sighed and prodded the tablet again inputting his fingerprint, signalling to the Admiralty that he had received and understood the new operational orders. Dismissing the Sailor he cleared his throat and spoke:

"Ladies and Gents I am afraid to inform you that our return to Vetaka is Cancelled. As of now we are being deployed elsewhere. That's all ill tell you now for now Officers to your Stations and Ships Please. Prepare for Possible Combat Operations. Ill see you all in the briefing room at 21:00"

With that the various Captains and Officers rose from their seats and left leaving the two Admirals alone:

"Where?" spoke Julius

"Central Prestonia" replied Amjad

The Rear Admirals eyes narrowed in confusion:

"Central Prestonia? The Chieftain gone Mad?"

Amjad chuckled and replied:

"No it seems a "General Sherman" is acting up and declaring his political party and a large area of Prestonia Autonomous from Prestonia. The Chieftain wants to show that Vetaka has failed Central Prestonia in the past under the Republic. However under the Chiefdom the Tribe is their for Old Friends. Our Orders are to sail forth to support the Prestonian Elected Government by any means required."

"Fair Enough. Is it just us being deployed?" asked Julius downing his drink.

"Officially Yes its Ourselves and the Second Humanitarian Support Group escorted by the 19th Light Carrier Group. However the Admiralty is mobilising the Second and Fouth Battlegroups should the situation turn dark. Furthermore the Communication stated "expect large scale central support from New Theeb" replied Amjad

"Central Support? Which is?" replied Julius

"Who Knows" replied Amjad chuckling

Making their goodbyes they departed moving off in their various directions to give their respective orders. In total Vetaka would be deploying around 120 Ships. Furthermore VDF High Command had preliminary earmarked a total of 100,000 Combat Personnel to support the Old Prestonian Government whilst the Tribal Council was gearing up to provide whatever support it could to the Central Prestonian Government and People.

Hudson International Airport, Hudson, Central Prestonia:

Vetaka Transnational Airways Flight 347 flying New Theeb to Hudson was taxing towards the Terminal building of Hudson International when Matthew Mills woke from a deep sleep. He smiled at one of the attractive flight attendants as she passed by. Mills had 24 hours ago been working deep cover for Vetakan Security and Intelligence Service within New Nickslyvannia attempting to penertrate the Top Levels of the Nick Government. Mills had joined the Army at 16 and had been part of the Operation to storm the Zanski beaches decades before recruited by Vetakan Intelligence at 26 he was now one the Services most experienced and capable agents. He was quite simply the best agent Vetaka had as a result it had been decided by the Chieftain Mills would be pulled out of Nick and assigned to Central Prestonia.

Mills gathered his things together and eventually rose from his feet on authorization from the Flight Crew moving along the aisle his Laptop Case in hand he exited the plane in the terminals tunnel. Breathing in the cool fresh area he quickly moved into the terminal and towards passport control. Taking out his Diplomatic Papers in a leather bound wallet he flashed it at the guards whom waved him through without hassle after all to them he was Chief Diplomatic Attaché to the Vetakan Ambassador. Exiting into the Arrivals lounge he made his way to three black suited men whom smiled and greeted him like an old friend. The Lead Suit smiled and announced:

“This Way. Your bags will come on behind us. The Ambassador wants to see you urgently”

Mills nodded and replied:

“And the Fleet?”

“Still at Flanders they are due to depart in 2 days” replied one of men

Mills nodded with that they all exited the building and boarded a black Audi A4 which sped away into the Airports busy traffic.

Across Prestonian Airports numerous Vetakan-Prestonian Citizens where arriving home from Vetaka visiting friends, family or simply enjoying holidays. This wasn’t particularly suspicious as Vetakan-Prestonians frequently travelled to and from the two nations. However today was different these men and women where not ordinary citizens they where Vetakan Intelligence Operatives deployed to monitor the activities of and if possible penetrate the National Prestonian Party.

OBSAT Space Command, Main Operations Room, Classified Location, Vetaka:

“Sir” chimed a nearby Corporal as the massive HD screen flicked from a pulsating map of Vetaka to show a live satellite image.

“Location?” replied Supreme Operational Commander Jack O’Neil

“Hudson, Central Prestonia. Visibility is Good” replied a Sergeant

“Excellent” replied O’Neil

The Supreme Commander snatched up a red phone and hit one button it rang and answered almost immediately, he sternly spoke into it:

“Phase 1 of Operation Sunshine is Complete the Network is Green”

“Yes Sir” replied the Commander to the person on the other end of the Phone.

Official Tribal Chiefdom of Vetaka Diplomatic Statement:

To: <Open Communication>
From: Honoured Chieftain Quicksilver

Subject: Central Prestonia and the NPP

"The Tribal Chiefdom of Vetaka shall stand by its commitments, It shall honour what commitments it can made by the Free Dominion of Vetaka. It shall do what it can to uphold Honour, Courage, Peace and Love"

Many moons ago the honourable politicians and leaders of the Free Dominion of Vetaka made an Alliance with the People of Central Prestonia. Many Moons ago the Senate of the Free Dominion of Vetaka signed an oath of loyalty and friendship with the People of Central Prestonia. An oath which was broken many times. Today the Tribal Chiefdom of Vetaka intends to right that wrong and reclaim the lost Vetakan Oath. Today the Tribal Chiefdom of Vetaka begins announces its intent to support the legitimate Prestonian Government led by Vice President Philip Katz.

The Tribal Chiefdom hereby announces its intent to infuse a preliminary 75 Billion Universal State Dollars into the Central Prestonia Economy. The Tribal Chiefdom hereby announces a state of "Open Economic Freedom" to the Industry of Central Prestonia. Furthermore the Tribal Chiefdom intends to whatever is required to support Prestonia in this hour of need. To facilitate such support I have authorised the deployment of a Capable and Diverse Fleet of Naval Warships led by Nexus Class Hyper Carrier VDFNS Aaron H. Preston.

Further to this the Tribal Chiefdom hereby announces a total and complete stage 5 Embargo against the National Prestonian Party. The United Federation of Allied Nations may of shattered in the eyes of many but Vetaka shall support the Legitimate Government and the Rightful, Honourable and Courageous Peoples of Central Prestonia.

Central Prestonia shall not stand alone again

Yours

Quicksilver

Chieftain Quicksilver of the White Phoenix Tribe
Tribal Chieftain of the Tribal Chiefdom of Vetaka
Supreme Commanding Admiral in Chief of the Vetakan Defence Forces

http://www.armedforces.co.uk/navy/listings/navyhmsarkroyalb.jpg
Photograph: VDFNS Ashley Potter off Flanders, Honako

"Central Prestonia Shall Not Stand Alone Again, The Lost Oath Shall be Reclaimed"

Page 1
New Theeb Echo World Addition

In one of his most stern and powerful statements to date Tribal Chiefdom Quicksilver announced his intent to support the Honourable Philip Katz Government of Central Prestonia in the aftermath of the announcement by Honourable General Sherman of the National Prestonian Party of the parties intent to split from the Prestonian Nation.

Chiefdom Quicksilver announced the "preliminary infusion" of some 75 Billion Universal State Dollars into the Central Prestonian Economy. Along with the deployment of a Fleet of "Capable and Diverse" Naval Warships to facilitate support to the Prestonian Government. Along with such invigorating promises of support the Chieftain announced a Stage 5 Embargo upon the NPP which is the highest state of diplomatic Embargo the Tribal Chiefdom will impose on a nation before the use of Military Force.

No Comment was available from the Tribal Council, the Directorate of Foreign Affairs or Vetakan Defence Force High Command regarding the statement at the time of print. However commentators from across Vetaka are in agreement that the Tribal Council has earmarked a vast amount of resources to supporting its lost ally and reclaiming the Lost Oath.

For more Information and Reaction please visit: www.NewTheebEcho.com

Hudson, Central Prestonia
This early in the morning it was usual for a café such as this specific one, in the historic center of Hudson, to be filled to the brim with customers ready to drink a glass of coffee before heading to work. As a result, it was't particularly troublesome to anybody to find six well-dressed men around the wooden coffee table, near the center of the large room. They were garbed in elegant 'Western' garb, all of them in expensive suits with an equally as expensive casual sports jacket - it was obvious to anybody who looked that these men only bought at the best boutiques. All of them were smiling as their lips moved, and once in a while one would carefully raise his cup of coffee to his bottom lip and take a short sip. The noise that all the customers made in the dozens of separate conversations taking part simultaneously wonderfully masqueraded what these six men were saying, not that anybody was particularly interested, except perhaps a few girls. Although, if anybody was fortunate enough to overhear, the conversation would be found to be more alarming that one would originally have guessed. But, these six men were not stupid and they each knew their job.

One of them, distinguished by his blue tie with thin white stripes, lowered the cup of coffee from his lips and placed it gracefully on a small, white plate on the light brown, wooden table. Not looking at any one person in particular, and his lips curled in an attractive smile as his cheeks folded over to create dimples around his mouth, he mentioned, 'Why beat around the bush, gentlemen? I know that operational security,' he said this rather sarcastically, 'disallows us from saying our real names, but I'm tired of having to avoid to use pronouns and perhaps we should just tell each other our operative name. In all honesty, we won't see each other after this morning, so who cares?'

Another man arched his eyebrow and responded, 'A bit sudden.' All six men chuckled, almost silently, but the man continued, 'Oh, why not? Mister Alain Perasçois, explosives expert.'

The first speaker smiled and said, 'Now, this is more to my liking. Mister Debois Green. What about you?' He oriented the question to the man sitting on his right.

This man responded, 'Mister Kirk Fenester. As you were all briefed independently, I am operatives master for today. But, judging from the conversation we've been having I don't think any troubles should arise.'

Debois Green laughed, 'Oh no, surely not. We seem like a group of well orientated shool children.' The others chuckled at his joke, and Debois pointed at the man seated two seats to the right of Kirk. The man seated directly to his right was Alain.

This man seemed slightly unconfident at first, but he revealed his operative name, 'Damien de la Red. Don't mind my accent. I am from Safehaven and operated in the Havenic military during the war.' He was, of course, referring to the War of Golden Succession [2016-2018], during which Safehaven had invaded the Second Empire with cold hearted brutality and had ultimately lost the war. But most of the men seemed normal with the news and de la Red continued, 'To avoid having my family deported when Macabee troops occupied northern Safehaven I joined an auxiliary brigade, and about two months later I was recruited into the intelligence agency. Obviously, now I'm rogue.'

The man seated to de la Red's right raised his eyebrow, 'Nice to hear we have a milkman among us. I hope that we don't have to abort the mission now!'

Damien grimaced, 'The intelligence agency doesn't even know who were are yet, so don't be foolish.'

'We'll see. In any case, call me Isaac. That's all you need to know. I'm not the type of man that likes to talk like little school girls.' He spoke with the left side of his mouth closed, and all the noise coming from a left-side that was shaped like a circle. His style of speech resembled that of a farmer or a hick military drill sergeant - most of the men around him probably considered him 'low class', but he was the type of man that 'didn't even care'.

The last man spoke up, 'Don't have to ask me. I'm Mister Alessandro Bughitini, firearms expert.'

Dubois interjected, 'It's almost time.'

These men pretended not to know each other, but it was hard not to. All of these men were corporate leaders of some type or another, and all were there at that coffee table for a very specific reason. These were the Knights of Pir-Sar, a as-of-yet little known terrorist group which operated in countries where Macabee economic interests were particularly high. The group's original raison d'etre was simply to look out for the interests of Macabee big business, and therefore it was not rare to find the Knights interactic with and working for the Macabee intelligence service. At some point, however, their priorities became crossed and somehow the Knights of Pir-Sar turned into a semi-autonomous terrorist group that liked to suck nations dry of their funds. They had possibly gotten this latter 'goal' from the Invisible Hand, operating only years prior in Guffingford. In fact, the covert fighting between the Invisible Hand, the Knights and Macabee agents was probably the principle reason behind the disastrous collapse of the Guffingfordi government around August 2016, leading the occupation of the country [during the war] by both Macabee and Stevidian forces. It should be noted that the collapse of Guffingford and the inquisition of members of the Invisible Hand by the occupying forces led to the Knights becoming the predominate 'mafia' in Greater Dienstad. This growth spurt, allowed by the lack of competition, is what has ultimately allowed this group to venture outside the region and to nations such as Central Prestonia - nations on the verge of collapse that proved to be easy prey.

The Knights of Pir-Sar's [i]coup d'grace against 'Imperial overwatch' was probably carried out when Kriegzimmer was officially broken up into several independent defense companies and the name was given to a company, led by the same administration, which merely exported military equipment and no longer controlled the design, manufacture and export of said equipment. This blow to 'absolute capitalism' [the Empire's economic policy] was frightfully annoying to most businessmen inside the empire, who were afraid of loosing their priveleges as all-powerful demi-gods. This led to a few bombings around the Empire, although Fedala purposely kept it on the 'down-low' - so to speak - for purposes of morale, but after that the Knights became suspiciously silent. With their intentions in the Empire foiled and no other nations really prepared to accept a dose of economic terrorism the Knights found themselves obsolete. Fortunately [for them, at least], Central Prestonia suddenly lit up like a christmas tree, and this civil war would serve as the perfect back story for their much belated debut. These six men were the vanguard of what would be a powerful, fearful and deadly efficient terrorist movement in both Western and Eastern Prestonia, working for the interests of Macabee businessmen and those considered 'strategic allies' .

Dubois Green picked up his black, leather suitcase, positioned under his seat, and stood. He looked carefully at all six men and said, 'Let's go to work, gentlemen.'

Alain Perasçois smiled, showing his milk white teeth, and reached down to grab his silver, metallic suitcase. This man rose, as well, and soon the other four followed. Within minutes money was thrown casually on the table, to pay the bill, and the six men were out the door. Each of them put on some sun glasses as they entered the street and each of them carried a particular suitcase, like truly professional businessmen of the upmost [i]cadre. They didn't walk far, and each man took a separate taxi, although the taxis seemed to go the same route - although, with all the traffic they were bound to be split up by fleets of automobiles. Regardless, within thirty minutes they had all arrived at the same destination. They found themselves under the colossal sign of 'Pentascale Industries', a local electrical company once owned by a Macabee CEO. Unfortunately, the recent beginning of civil disturbances had caused local party members to raid the building and take over it for local usage. They had critisized Preston's government for allowing 'corrupt, Macabee companies' control the electricity supply and they had taken Darwin's law of survival into their own dirty hands. Little did they know that they had messed with the wrong people. These six men were about to show them what happened to those who tried to intervene in Macabee business operations.

When the men arrived they did not immediately concentrate together. Three of the six men had entered the building, going through the large, revolving glass doors at the entrance. Two men had stayed outside, and the third sat alone near the entrance, smoking a long, lean cigarette. Just then, a limosuine pulled into a private parking spot, along the street, infront of the façade of the tall, glass building, and a fat, well dressed man was escorted out. He didn't seem to notice the two tall Macabee men standing near the car, until it was too late. The man sitting alone unpacked a short personal defense weapon from his suitcase, quickly, and killed the man's escort. The two other men soon muscled their target into a taxi, which was probably caught by surprise. The two men sat beside their prey on the back seat, while the gunman positioned himself in the passenger's seat in the front, telling the taxi driver to drive. Seconds later the three men who were inside walked out ... without their suitcases. It wouldn't take long before three separate explosions tore the lounge of the building apart, killing dozens ...

All the while, Damien de la Red and Alessandro Bughitini were wrestling with their obese prisoner, undressing him in the back of the car. He was stripped to his underwear and de la Red wrote in thick black letters accross his back - 'I FUCKED WITH GOD'. Laughing, he then proceeded to tie the man's arms behind his back, while Alessandro tied his feet. Alessandro chuckled and said, 'Do you realize we're about to toss Albert Highmen out of a moving car?'

Damien shrugged and responded, 'Whatever. This pig means nothing to me.'

Albert Highmen was a corporate lackey who had joined forces with 'the party' [NPP] to avoid losing his business when Hudson was split between the two opposing forces. Highmen had been chosen to administer companies the NPP had usurped from their former, foreign owners - in other words, he had backstabbed his own brethren. This was not unusual in the world of business, but neither was not responding. Some minutes later the men did exactly what they said they were going to do, and the fat corporate businessman was rolling across the street and soon hit by a car. Surely, now everyone knew what would happen if you crossed with 'Macabee big business'. In all honesty, the Knight's debut seemed more like armed thuggery, despite the three small bombs placed inside of Pentascales Industries' lobby. But, unprofessionalism was to be expected for a 'first time' and nobody was perfect. Regardless, the attack was sure to lead to ehanced media coverage of the issue - even if the organization's identity yet remained clandestine - and would probably lead to the expansion of the Knights. What was sure was that Central Prestonia was about to become the corner stone for a 'global revolution' of corporate terrorism.

Kirk Fenester, the operatives manager, rendezvoused with his team somewhere back in the historic center. Although, to him, the mission had turned out slightly botched, given the unprofessional look of throwing out a big business cat from a moving car, he had to technically term it a success. It took around forty-five minutes, after the blast, for all six men to concentrate in front of another café. This time, however, the meeting would be shorter. Kirk nodded to each man and said, 'Congratulations, I believe our attack can be deemed a success. For future operations you will be independently briefed. What is more important, stay low and I suggest leaving the city and heading West for a couple of days.'

Dubois Green smiled and asked, 'This city is going to be lit up, ain't it?'

Kirk shook his head slowly, 'I wouldn't know what to tell you. But, the mission is over. Adieu.'

Fedala, Second Empire of the Golden Throne
Fedor didn't look very amused when he was briefed on the happenings in Central Prestonia. The country had taken a keen interest in Central Prestonia after the end of the Praetonian 'era', and the shackles of Praetonian slavery had been lifted. Of course, the Empire was looking for a similar relationship, but not exactly - after all, the definition of insanity was when a person did the same thing twice, expecting different results. Fedor was looking for something more mutually beneficial, and more in line with the recently founded Fedala Accords [which only has three members, as of yet], that benefited Macabee companies, but also offered Central Prestonia enough of the pie as to persuade that this was the best 'foreign investment option' to choose. The Empire had one advantage that few other nations had and that it was that few nations had a population of over ten billion! The massive, sprawling economic wealth of the empire allowed it to offer a greater level of investment than smaller nations. Regardless, it seemed that the fouled experiences Central Prestonia had with other nations had made it less receptive to the Macabee offer. It didn't matter, this civil war would make Fedor's goal much simpler and easier to attain. He curled his lip in a crude smile and said, 'Tell the Prestonian government that they have the empire's backing.'

The general sent to brief his imperial majesty seemed confused, 'With what, your majesty?'

Fedor thought for a second and then responded, 'Find some spare weapons in our warehouses and rearm the Prestonian military when the time is right. They are probably going to suffer heavy losses, and free equipment is better than expensive equipment - especially when the free equipment is just as good.' The general nodded and was about to turn away, but then Fedor spoke again, 'Also, make mention that I will outline a military aid program [MAP] including large monetary investments to partially pay for their martial efforts against the rebellion.'

The general's face startled as he remembered something, 'Sir, what about the ambassador in Hudson?'

Fedor thought again and then responded, 'Send the ambassador to Lehigh Acres and set up new embassy grounds there; we can't risk losing our embassy to the rebels. Send a consulate team to the eastern portion of the country, to speak to the rebels. We will have to remain in contact with both sides.'

The general nodded, came to attention, salutes, made an about face and then walked out of the room, leaving Fedor by himself. Fedor put his hand on his forehead and leaned over onto his desk, as if his head hurt. All the while he thought to himself, another war. The Empire had just come out of the War of Golden Succession and its ambitions had led to the occupation of Theohuanacu in Greater Dienstad, which had proved to be more resistant to occupation that some had originally suggested. The Theohuanacu operation had turned into a quagmire, with dozens of thousands of locals joining the nationalist insurgency. Imperial recruitment efforts for local auxiliary brigades, promising adventure and high payment had only curtailed the insurgency's inevitable expansion partially - Fedor had underestimated the nationalist movement in Theohuanacu. Some half a million men were either in Theohuanacu or slated to be deployed, although most of these were 'auxiliaries' - Guffingfordi or Havenic [Safehaven2] soldiers, recruited from occupied territories. The empire had also gotten itself into investing other nations, as well, although fortunately these were not yet in a state of civil war. The empire had also slated troops for a potential deployment to Holy Marsh or other allied states due to the sudden belligerency between APOC and NATO, although the Empire rather stay out of such 'childist quibbles' [as Fedor himself put it].

In other words, this 'world-wide economic and military expansion' program of Fedor and his empire had turned out more expensive than he would have originally guessed. This did not take into consideration the trillions of dollars which the empire had to invest in itself, given that it had to rebuild the entirety of the Ruska provence [destroyed by the Havenic-Macabee front], the city of Weigar [not officially known how it was razed to the ground] and damages in Dienstad [especially those committed by the Stevidian nuclear strike]. Nevertheless, Fedor considered these costs - especially those that arose from Central Prestonia - justified investments, given that the return would theoritically be much larger ... if all worked well, of course. But, there was no profit if there was no risk! Yet Fedor was worried - the empire's image was at stake. Ruling a nation was difficult, but ruling an empire that had just come out of the largest war in its history - with the largest losses endured in its history - and having to invest billions in foreign nations, with investment needed at home, was even more difficult. This was slightly less true when taking into consideration that military-related exports offered more profit than some nation's entire gross national product! But, that was besides the point - this amount of investment around the world was unthinkable for some nations. Most had never touched so much money in their lives. The issue for Fedor was, to what degree was it realistic? For Fedor it was easy to sign papers, but he really had no idea of the state of the coffers.

He shrugged; it was best not to think of such things. If the empire ran into debt it would be paid off in due time. For now, Fedor had to do everything possible to ensure a future for his empire and to extend its sphere of influence. Today, this meant prioritizing Central Prestonia ...

A light frost crisped the streets of Novesia as the first rays of the sun peaked over the distant horizon, shattering the serenity of night and the beauty of the placid oceans visible from the high vaunted towers, with their surfaces ornamented with infinite carvings in Novan caligraphs, rising tall out of the humble ground to reach for the skies and claim the surface once more anew, they shared a similar aspect, all of them seemingly carved out of one piece of a black obsidian-esque material, with great recessed panes of glass, from above the individual streets would be clearly defined, as massive monitors were strategically placed upon ridged perches separating street level from the higher heights, subtle blue light filled the streets and banners hung from every ridge, flags billowed from flag poles and pennants while Capitol Enforcers strode through the silent predators in the night, for a danger more imagined than real, the inhabitants of the city more reassured by this normal presence, than they would be, for such lack would indicate that something was wrong, more than anything else.

From the port to the Tower of Destiny the Capitol seemed abandoned, ever quiet, with only a slight thrum filling the air, with only the Tower of Destiny, which shone only marginally brighter, it’s many branching appendages all reaching for the sky up on high, as if to touch the absolute and claim it for it’s own, within, there was activity, but it was subdued, however most notably, the greatest concentration of activity, was not the usual suspect, The Lystad Department, a relative newcomer to the tower’s inner workings, it had been founded little over four years ago, with Partothene Cley at it’s head, a distinguished ambassador, and had been decorated a war hero from one of the Kukokonian conflicts, he had been considered the natural choice for the job, and naturally, nature had ran it’s course.

His chambers were sparse, as were most ministers within the tower, it was typical décor, the sort that accented a room’s height and size, gently recessed alcoves bore busts of great philosophers or ancient cultural artefacts while the Banner of Novacom and the Lystad Pact hung upon one complete wall, which was dominated by a large array of monitors, at present displaying the split and the arrayed forces, of course the split had only occurred within the last few hours, the dust as of yet had not settled, yet Partothene was not known for his laxity of action and the call had gone out, the entirety of the ministry of significance that could be within conference had been summoned and had arrived within less than an hour, indeed, if there had been of much at anything in the way of life conscious at such an hour in the morning it would have alarmed someone, however the only mark of such activity, were the Enforcers within the Tower’s vast lobby bearing helmets, rather than normal headwear, however, the sense of activity was undiminished.

“It has come to my attention, that one of our signatories, Central Prestonia, is at present wracked with the direst of afflictions,” a pointed pause began, as he pivoted upon one foot, his bearded head, curled into 8 extrusions, much akin to an octopi than anything else, his tunic seemed to hang more on him than most, as if it had been sized to a man of more, excessive proportions, and it seemed to lend Partothene, a more austere aspect, as he appraised his councillors, and one of his assigned Srihaculs, Reece Dau Kenzal, “they have been riddled with internal conflict, and a schism has occurred, such a chain of events is reprehensible to me personally, to the Lystad Pact, and the Government and people as a whole, it is therefore, my decision, to personally undertake affirmative action, to resolve this crisis.” The reaction was gratifying, yet surprising, some would have considered a minister who took a hands on approach unusual, but such a thing for a Novan was typical, a leader cannot delegate a task, that he himself, or herself for that matter, would be unwilling, or unable to complete.

He continued his pacing around the table and the assembled, before coming to stop once more in front of the monitors, the table, shaped much like a letter from the English Alphabet, the Letter C, to be more precise, pertinent data flicked across angled recesses within the extended desk, at which the assembled sat, as the data flickered across, as Partothene stretched forward slightly, planting both his hands upon a small desk in front of his lectern, and apprising the assembled, “In addition to this, I entask, you, Srihacul Kenzal, with spearheading rebuilding efforts of the Prestonian Military, in addition to this, you shall bolster our own presence, who knows what vagrant power could insert themselves into this despicable turn of events, as already the enemies of the Prestonian People, the National Prestonian Party, has demanded immediate assistance from the international community at large.”

The Srihacul rose immediately, as he reacted to the prompt, he was frank and to the point, a manner that befit the hour, “I can have forces assembled for immediate departure by sunset, and I can arrange for forces to be there within less than a week, however, I understand some of our more, well, let’s be circumspect and say clandestine aspects, are already active within Central Prestonia” he lowered himself once more into the high back chair, removing a single crystal from upon his right uniform arm, and placing it into a terminal, with a confident expression.

“Oh, how, illuminating, I shall have to discuss the present issue with them at great length, the road to stability is a long and treacherous one from this point, outsiders are not as we are, they do not understand that absolute unity under the leadership of state is the path forward, that only through uniting as a people can humanity continue any further forwards, as at present, only we Novans look set to survive when eventually, the rest of the race surrenders to their selfish desires, and begins a war that shall annihilate all. I understand I have roused many of you from your slumber this evening, so I shall release you to slumber, I shall require constant updates while I am in Lystar, come Srihacul Kenzal, we have a long journey ahead of us, and much groundwork to lay.” The Minister nodded once, indicating the rest were free to leave, before beckoning over Reece, and making his own exit, for the flight would be long, after all, Novacom was on the far west of Gholgoth, and the flight to Central Prestonia, via expedient methods would take the best part of a day.

The Novan Continent of Kaziktra was renowned for it’s industrial capacity, it’s very geography was suited to a myriad of industries, naturally foremost among them were Military companies, all of them under the Umbrella of Novacom Manufacturing, as every company within Novacom was, the system worked inordinately well, with promising innovations and their accompanying costs could be shouldered with ease, and dead flesh which no longer nourished the whole could be assimilated into the whole without damaging surrounding areas. Also at home at Kaziktra, was a prominent Naval Base, several massive Hikazntokellzion Container ships loaded to capacity with equipment had been prepared, for immediate departure, while their original destination had been classified, their orders had been redefined, immediate deployment to Central Prestonia, and more specifically, the Lystar district.

Lystar was an atypical city within Central Prestonia, for the entire populace, regardless of the now divided nationality; it was seen as a shining beacon of hope for their future. The city had been developed starting little over ten years ago, following Prestonian entry into the Lystad Pact, and the tendrils it had extended, were beginning to make inroads within the rest of the nation at large, while after recent collapses elsewhere, had plunged many citizens below the poverty line, the denizens of Lystar still enjoyed prosperous lives. The city was different for several reasons, chief among those, were its origins, Lystar was a city developed by the Novans.

A city of water, many canals had been dredged, and the tall buildings carved with infinite care, out of native pale coloured materials, which had been identified by the Novans, of being superb for the purpose, despite being shunned by Prestonian architects since Prestonia had had buildings, the city was inordinately well planned, and it’s most dominating feature was the Viqohewzdiar Tower, a four pillared affair, reaching towards the skies, it was here that the city council, created from a pool of Novan educated Prestonians, ran the fair city, under the auspices of the Lystad representatives within the city, although it had chafed at first, the city operated under Novan law, and the regular presence of soldiery and a healthy police, or Capitol Enforcer presence had come to be second nature to the citizens.

The cities many aqueducts and great plaza’s emphasised space and purity of purpose, the city seemed from another time, yet juxtaposed subtly with the new, the entire city was a city of tomorrow yesterday, and a promise of what would be to come for all of the Prestonian people, indeed the only aspect any of them had been able to criticize was the presence of a large military base to the north, with large port facilities, a presence which was now hailed as typically fore thinking of the Novans, and the Prestonians had been incredibly surprised by another affectation of the Novans, that of frequent military parades, and displays of nationalism, it had however, not taken long for them to adopt the custom as their own, and members of the Novan entertainment sector had begun including the city on their tours, a most notable one, a certain set of Triplets known as the Voice of the Nation in English, had arrived earlier on in the day, and their concert was eagerly anticipated.

“I am the Srihitevaricus, Parinax Hyiartkanz, Commander of the Novan Military Forces here in Central Prestonia, with the transfer of command, I surrender myself, and my personnel to your command, and I accept that your task is the greater, I subordinate myself to your orders, so that we may serve the interests of State and People, as one.” Parinax shot his arm forward, proffering a simple badge clasp, the significance of such a small item could never be underestimated, for it is in the hands of people that fate is shaped, and the future is changed, one act, no matter how small, can move millions, and the smallest item, can create the largest of effects. The Srihitevaricus was a young man, recently elevated to the rank, and had been assigned the position as a measure of his capabilities in the mission of peace, and while his superiors had made clear their faith in his capabilities, the presence of a veteran had been decided upon, so that the situation would not escalate beyond the borders, if, that were, if it could not be prevented at all.

“I, Srihacul Reece Dau Kenzal, Supreme Commander of the Lystad Pact Task Force, the Shattered Star Initiative, Accept your command, and Subordination, look again upon me, as a servant of the state continued again, so that we may bring about a better future, for state and people,” Reece extended a long arm slowly, to clasp the badge proffered, and clasping it upon his right shoulder, above rank slide, and stepped back.

“Relax Parinax, and now onto business, the rest of the Shattered Star Initiative arrives within a fortnight, brief me on what you’ve been doing with the Prestonian Military, and dispense with the formalities here, we must grasp this situation yet more firmly in what time we have before potential escalation”

“I thank you Reece, in short, the elements that we ourselves have equipped and trained have remained loyal to us, and I have had them recalled here briefly for rearmament, as before the defection of formations we had yet to bring up to scratch, they sabotaged much of the equipment, knowing they would not be able to maintain it, considering since much of it is old surplus equipment we ourselves had once used, updated by Novacom Manufacturing, we hadn’t begun any work on the Navy yet, so it’s loss wasn’t a blow, however at present, the NPP, has a numerical superiority, yet they do not have the equipment, training, nor the experience, while we are now severely lacking in numbers, and a recruiting campaign was rapidly begun, we can rebuild the Prestonian Military.

The Srihitevaricus paused for a moment, indicating on the display a set of charts and figures, with an almost depressing sense of gravity, before continuing on, “it will take time, and for the moment, our own Naval forces have taken over maritime patrols for the entire nation, regardless of the side, there were some initial sounds of consternation, but they, to be circumspect, were quickly suppressed when they realised that at the moment, they lack a protector.” Parinax proffered a pad, while he pivoted gently to observe a large map of the nation, with wire frames trailing across it, in typical novan fashion, depicting overarching detail about the present situation, and was about to continue his conversation with Reece, until an aide interjected whispering in the Srihacul’s ear.

“It would appear, my friend, that I am required elsewhere, the initial report you sent ahead, was indeed illuminating, an it is thankful things have not yet deteriorated, I had hoped to brief you on these orders, but you’re a smart one, you’ll be able to enact upon them quickly enough, I shall discuss much with you later, farewell, Srihitevaricus,” Reece saluted before pivoting away, and out of the Command Centre.

“It is always a pleasure to be here in Lystar, indeed yes, I enjoy the temperate climate,” Partothene idly mentioned, the discussion about the situation, had by now run it’s course, and the time for small talk had arrived, the situation, appeared far safer than it had before, with forces rerouted from Freeksbury to Lystar, which were, a drop in the ocean, to what was stationed there, would help augment matters until the remainder of the task could arrive.

“It is a pleasure to play host to an honoured minister from the homeland Minister, the Councillors have expressed their,” spoke the Gykuzae, the Novan Governor, although the rank was more advisory in aspect, the City Council often consulted with him, after all, it was the Novans who had birthed this fair city, which now hosted a populace of 285 million, where once it had been Novans in the majority of the cities populace, it was now beginning to be Prestonians, as applications to move to the city were accepted as the city continually expanded, it alone, out of all of the cities on both sides of the line, had been completely unaffected by the schism, and it was being lobbied by some of the more nationalistic elements, to abandon Hudson as the capitol an adopt Lystar, a subject on which the Novans had been unusually quiet upon.

“I suspect Poreth, that what you look more forward this day, is the performance, tell me, the Voice usually performs some sort of amazing stunt, usually some sort of leap from a building while in song, their Destinus Performance last year was most spectacular,” mused Partothene, his head canted gently as he peered intently at the tops of buildings, his Vzaaqke attenuating his already majestic height as he attempted to clasp his gaze upon the singing sensation.

The Plaza’s of Lystar were wide spaces, and from any point in them the great monitors could be seen, which normally displayed a myriad of images, this time displayed the faces of a young trio of girls, dressed in outrageous Novan fashion, form fitting and made up, of what seemed to be a thousand layers, causing even a slight movement to result in a tapestry of colour, the sky was clear crystal blue, and not a thing obscured the view behind them, a stage had been set up within the main plaza in front of the Tower, yet they were evidently not there, and the crowds filling the plaza’s were hollering in desperation, this Trio’s music was highly sought out by the cities denizens, and the sheer fact that they were present within the city drove many wild with tribulation and excitement, patrols had been quadrupled, and certain individuals had been hauled away mysteriously by Novan soldiery, however the markings they bore were subtly different from the regular military, and a slight purple hue tinged their deep grey uniforms accented with red regalia, however, the most disconcerting thing was, that nobody could remember identifying features, not could security, of which Lystar bore the typically intense Novan presence, could provide such missing details.

The hour drew near as the crowds ecstatic cheering quietened gradually, as the beginnings of music began to subtly permeate the city, first the actual sound, it lifted and inspired, yet note a single vocal was yet to be heard, when with a scream and a shout and a mass raising of fingers, hand and then arms to the top of one of the towers, vague shadows could be seen, when the monitors focused the crowds roared, the Voice of the Nation began their song and the cheering ceased, so mesmerised were they, it was their one of their more popular songs, Long Way Behind, for half a minute this continued, and then with a great propellment of movement they thrust themselves forwards as they plummeted down to the ground below, singing ever louder and mesmerising, yet as they reached the ground the slowed, flipped and touched down upon the stage, and began swaying and marching forward, belting out their song of truth, a thousand miles and a love left, a Long way Behind.

Around Central Prestonia, both east and west lurked an organisation hidden in plain sight, scattered through the echelons of society, and impervious to whatever attempts to flense out infiltrators were initiated, they were apart of the systems implemented, they ran the system, they were the system, there membership did not communicate with one another, and attempts to piece together information confirming the existence of a network between these individuals would flounder in the light of reality, there was no proof, for their in actuality was no network that could be investigated by those bound to the mundane, and those of potential, well, they themselves rapidly found themselves on the wrong side of authority, and then rather overtly squirreled away elsewhere, and branded traitors, extracted by a foreign power, a convenient enough excuse on house keeping in such times.

They were unassuming individuals, pale of complexion and willowy of aspect, the sort of person that was swiftly forgotten and never remembered, young in years, or so it would seem, they would appear to leave no identifying mark, and appear to be of no significance, of course the true nature of many a person is concealed behind many veils, in some cases, it is a complex personality, in others it is the tendency to be excessively humours, and in other cases, it is an acquiescence, a seeming heeding of a hive mind. In a select few, it is the actual nature that is the veil, there are many secrets in this world, and many of them are known only to the Novans and one of them is a state of eternal life, yet it is not so, for those who transcend the gate can never return, bound forever in this state bound into an unknown state, a suit of armour, crafted from an unknown material, completely indestructible, yet malleable to manipulators of the Psychic Phenomena, for the mind liberated is a terrible thing to behold, capable of transcending human nature into something much more. These are the Zimtaren, the ultimate evolution of Voronzel Jindrax’s Psychic Legacy…

Incendium, Spacium Concordia

Imperata Spacii Concordiae Sukhee shifted through the daily reports one after another, giving each a mere glance. As the Imperata, she had no time to read every newsflash in depth and she had no will to do so either. It was a fact of life that most of the news in the world was either pessimistic or boring beyond reason. She let out a sigh as she finished one stacked and dismally stared at another towering stack of papers to sort through and shuffle. She swiveled her chair side ways and got up, lurching to the side due to her balance being off after sitting in the chair for the past 12 hours. She caught herself against the wall and regained her posture before moving her body towards the window. Anytime she had experienced stress during her reign, she would gaze out of this window and lay her sights on the entirety of the Imperatoris Praetorium (Imperial Palace) and its lush gardens and decorations that dotted it the surroundings.

Her mind wondered off for a brief second before a thudding at the door shook her back to reality. She walked over to her desk and pressed one of the buttons near the intercom that unlocked the door. It was a convenient feature she had implanted when she became too lazy or was too involved in work to bother getting up to let anyone in. She could have just left her door open, but she was slightly paranoid and didn’t want any assassin to be able to walk so easily in and blast her brains out. Immediately, the Consuasor Externi Seculi (Minister of Foreign Affairs) walked in. Sukhee glanced warily towards him, not because of him but because she knew he brought some important news. The man would never walk in unless it was urgent. Marcellus Volusenus threw a concealed envelope onto Sukhee’s desk and plopped himself on one of the velvet leather chairs arranged throughout the room.

“Imperata Sukhee, we have the most urgent of news for you.”

“Urgent? I have seen nothing of the sort in the daily briefing and…”

“Okay, its not urgent but it is of interest if I might say. It seems our friendly neighbors in Novacom have been busy bees if you know what I am saying. Seems like they’re taking a certain interest in a nation called Prestonia. It’s a small and insignificant little nation that wouldn’t doesn’t warrant any attention.”

“Then please Consuasor, get to the point. I’ve had a long day and I wish to retire for the night soon. If this nation you call Prestonia is of little importance, why are you bringing it up?”

“Because it’s recently become very important to Novacom, my lady. For some reason, they are channeling large sums of money to the nation. And furthermore, the nation of interest is actually in a state of a civil war.”

The Imperata narrowed her eyes on Volusenus and grew more attentive. “So, what are we looking at here?”

Volusenus had lured her attention in and now she was all ears for him, “Well, Novacom seems to support the existing government in Prestonia. Makes sense since they’ve been channeling funds for a long time to the nation, but it has only caught our interest as of lately since this civil war sparked. The secessionist movement is lead by a party called the National Prestonian Party. It’s ruled by some despotic leader, but he is very supportive of capitalism.”

Sukhee stood up and looked out the window again for a short while. She thought to herself at what the he wanted to do. Perhaps he was suggesting getting involved.

“I suppose you want us to get involved, no?”

“Well, yes my lady. It would be beneficial to us. This NPP could be a valuable ally for one thing and if they did seize power in Prestonia as a whole, it would open economic opportunities for Spacii Concordiae companies to expand. Heck, we might be able to turn them into virtual vassals if we wanted to. Another fine addition to our empire, no?”

Sukhee smirked at Volusenus and she knew that he knew what strings to pull on her mind to make her tick for him. But even though she knew it, she was fine with going along. After all, those who looked weak were best placed to discover the weaknesses of their enemies.

“The Spacium Concordia would have to gain legitimate declaration of war to send troops to Prestonia if your asking for that. That would require us to go through the Libertas Ecclesia and no doubt some of the Princepes would disapprove.”

“Yes, my lady I know. I suggest we bypass the Ecclesia for this purpose. It can easily be justified as needed since the Spacium Concordia is at an all time low in relations with the rest of NATO, which Novacom is a part of. I would think that APOC would be pleased to hear that we are already at work disrupting NATO’s ability to function and if Prestonia falls to our side, then that would be just another blow to NATO.”

Sukhee grabbed her belongings as the ideas she had been presented just now were racing through her mind. But at the same time she was stressed out and tired from a long day at work and desperately wanted to seclude herself to the sanctuary of her room.

”Very well, Volusenus. You have my permission, send a message to this NPP telling them that Spacium Concordia would be interested in setting up some relations.”

Volusenus couldn’t hold back his grin as he replied with a simple, “As you wish, my lady.”

Already the wheels of war were beginning to turn in Spacium Concordia. But a more sinister plot was taking place underneath this shrouded cover and far more compelling to Spacium Concordia’s affairs. Soon, though, soon everything would be shown.

OOC: I'm going to post some more in this post Kampf, but this should be all that concerns you and enough for you to work with.

Hudson, National Prestonian Party

A popular saying of or culture and time is “an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind,” or some variation of that phrase. If this statement held true, then in short time the entire city of Hudson, and to a lesser extent Prestonia itself, would be filled with bumbling blind men and women, and through no fault of her own. The Knights of Pir-Sar’s actions, although up until this point small or non-existent, were soon to have effects even the Knights themselves did not expect. Then again, they very well might have chalked this down as a key element of their plans. Only as time unraveled would they be able to tell.

The whirring of the elevator motor hummed distinctly in the ears of Frank Rodriguez, who casually noted that this was the fourth hotel within this district of Hudson that lacked any sort of elevator music. Always aware of his surroundings, he winced at the sound of the brakes screeching in an attempt to slow down. As the elevator came to a stop, Rodriguez moved forward to the front of the otherwise empty elevator. The doors opened to the thirty-sixth floor of the Hotel Hudson, and Rodriguez slowly exited the creaky old shaft.

Wearing a wife-beater, a jacket that read “East-Side”, a thick gold chain, and a pair of sagging jeans, Rodriguez was nothing much to look at. The random passerby would have likely mistaken him to be a member of one of the multiple gangs that were not uncommon in this part of Hudson, and his thick accent and Hispanic ethnicity did nothing to deny this fact. In reality, this was precisely what Rodriguez wanted them to believe. To a keen eye, however, one might distinguish him from the normal gang member, and suspect deeper connotations. This, however, was simply speculation, and hardly a basis for any sort of action. If they did attempt to try anything, anyhow, Rodriguez was more than capable of taking care of himself, one of the best, in fact. As he neared Room Number 3614, he slowly withdrew a keycard from his back pocket. He had been to this haunt once before, and he doubted he would ever return after tonight. He hoped things went better this time than the last. Upon inserting the keycard into the now rusty locking mechanism, he heard an audible clunk as the lock released. Attempting to open the door, he quickly found the deadbolt to be locked. Fuckin-a! He grunted. He hammered on the door with a clenched fist for a second or two, the knocks resonating each time his large fist was forced down upon the door by his bulging muscles.

In short time, a black man with the glowing ember of a cigarette in his mouth, almost as strong as Rodriguez, opened the door. He grunted his approval, nodded, and allowed Rodriguez to come in. He walked around the corner of the worn down suite, and a smirk came to his face as he recognized the same beat up faces, sitting on the same beat up furniture. Upon entering what would have formally been called a sitting room, before the hotel became trash, he was greeted by an array of heads nodding. In the room, he counted six men, not including the man who let him in. Out of the men, every one was in the best shape of his life excluding the old man who sat in the leather armchair, in the far corner of the room. Despite whatever appearance they maintained, all were military men, through and through. They were obviously not here for fun and games.

After they had sat around for a few minutes and smoked, the older man broke the silence. Glad you guys could all make it. I’m sure by this point you’ve figured out we aren’t here for fun and games. As I’m sure you guys remember, I’m with Branch Six, or special operations. The Party’s intelligence service has us on contract for this one, and not the military. This is not a licensed operation. Your lives will be in your own hands. You die, and you were never a member of the Army. You understand? His question was met by a chorus of grunts. Rodriguez and the others obviously weren’t much for small talk. You guys committed then? He glanced into the eyes of the men. Although he had worked with them before, he needed to make sure that each one of them was truly committed. If there was even only one chink in any one of their amours, the whole operation could fall through the roof, and at this point in time, that was not a particularly appealing option. After receiving approval from all of them, and feeling satisfied about the nature of their response, he began to continue.

Good. I suppose I’ll begin with the backdrop to this whole affair. A little storytelling never hurt anyone. Just the other day, a prominent company in East Hudson was bombed. This company, Pentascale Industries, had been run by a prominent National Party business member, Albert Highmen. Not only was the company bombed, but on top of this, Highmen himself was thrown out of a speeding car, and that mentions nothing of the condition they threw him out in. The only and obvious culprit? The illegitimate Prestonian government. They have spat in our face, and it is time we spit back. Tonight, I am no longer Mister Green. For the evening, I shall be known as Colonel Mustard. I will be your only link to the outside world during this mission, and if you need any outside help, which I am hopeful you won’t, it will be my job to provide it. We have identified several sites that are commonly known as ‘critical infrastructure.’ We will be removing one tonight, and if the Prestonian’s belligerence continues, than we shall continue with more targets later. Tonight’s attack will be on the Hudson Water Treatment Plant that services West Hudson. On the outskirts of town, getting there should be a relative breeze. I have a map for each of you of the sewer system, as your GPS won’t work down there. Encounter anyone, and I mean anyone, in the sewers, and you take them out. They have no business down there this late at night anyways. Once you get to the treatment plant, take out all the guards. At the time you will be going, there shouldn’t be more than one or two, but keep an eye out. Each one of you will be carrying a portion of high grade explosives, and I want the Bill here to examine the blueprint of the building and see where each of you should plant it, since he is the demolitions expert. He pulled the blueprint out of a folder on the table, and handed it to Bill.

While he works on that, I’ll finish the plot. Extraction should be relatively simple. Get back to the closest sewer entrance. Last man in should key the explosives and torch the place. Hustle your asses outside the city as fast as possible, and an ambulance will be sitting at the corner of Preston Meadow and Tennyson. Get your asses on that, and it’ll take you to St. Peters Memorial Hospital, on the East side. It’ll dump you at the underground military entrance, and you can wait in there for an hour or two before I give you the go-ahead to take leave. The whole of the operation should be fairly simple, and relatively quick, but it will have important after-effects. Bill, do you have those locations?

Bill grunted that he did, and handed him the blueprint. Marked in red were seven different locations, where if all the charges were properly placed and detonated, there was no way the structure would survive. One or two could probably even fail to explode and the structure would still collapse. The blueprint had been one of many that were uploaded to the databases of the Party’s intelligence service from the Prestonian National Library, and the blueprints for many important structures were compromised when the National Prestonian Party broke away. Good. I’ll let you divide the specific locations up amongst yourselves after I’m through. I have one more thing to say though. The knowledge of this does not leave this room. General Sherman does not even know of our plans. The Organization feels that he may not approve of their plans, as it could lead to rash decisions on the behalf of the Prestonians. However, these deeds must be done. If the Prestonians learn that any action they take against us will not be met with reciprocation, then they will continue their terror attacks against us. We must strike, and strike quickly, before they have the chance to do more harm. The operation begins tonight. You will stay in this room until the time of the mission. TV works and amazingly enough, this dump has cable. Feel free to help yourself to anything you find in the fridge, but I’ll go ahead and tell you that there isn’t enough beer to have more than one. The continued survival of the Party is in your hands men. Do not let me down.

St. Andrews, National Prestonian Party

Pacing about in his “Presidential” Mansion, General Sherman wondered about his situation. It appeared that there were no new developments in Prestonia, but her involvement in the Lystad Pact was troublesome. At any time, forces from Novacom could flood Central Prestonia and the Party would literally be forced to succumb to the scum of the West. It was upon this that he was thinking when he heard a knock upon his large birch doors. Since he was standing nearby, he went ahead and opened them himself, and was surprised to see his freshly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs standing in front of him, grinning wolfishly. He shook his head vigorously; thinking that perhaps he had not slept well enough the night before, but sure enough the Minister was still there.

Dressed in a dark black suit with white pinstripes, his light blue tie and folded handkerchief stuffed in to his pocket complimented his natural appearance perfectly. His white teeth were perfectly aligned, obviously the work of some dental prodigy. His name was Albert Smithy, and as of the previous Friday he was the National Prestonian Party’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. He had been somewhat lower down the ranks under the Prestonian government, but the General liked his energy, his enthusiasm, and his youth. He was, in fact, a quite likeable fellow, but he did not often divulge much when he felt as if he was not trusted fully. Being appointed his position had truly released all the zaz within the man. He licked his lower lip, and then unleashed a salvo upon the General. [I]Well sir, the letter you sent out seems to have gone largely unnoticed by the world. However, a nation by the name of The Spacium Concordia seems to have taken interest in our cause. Although they have not been as active on the world stage of late, our dossier entry on them makes it quite clear that this nation would be an important friend to make. They are a highly respected purveyor of Aerospace technology, and they also are well known for their seemingly bottomless pocketbooks. It would be in our best interests, sir, to contact them immediately. If it is your will, of course.

The General smiled. It pleasured him to be treated with such respect. As a General in Prestonia, he had never been treated with anything besides the typical stand-offish behavior that politicians usually treat military men with. Here however, it was all different. As supreme ruler, they had to respect him, or else there would be consequences. By and large, the people understood that. The disappearance of a few notable opponents to his regime had done a lot to help his cause. Focusing on the matter at hand, however, he knew he needed to contact the Concordia. Ah well, he had more important things to do, for instance, planning his golf retreat the next weekend. He opted rather to have Smithy fulfill the task. Smithy, since when have you needed my permission to begin diplomatic relations? Send them a letter, talk to them about the weather, ask them what their favorite beverage is, I frankly don’t mind. Just get us onto a fast track to close diplomatic relations. They may have intentions of using us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have the same masked intentions for them. Just remember to throw the Party’s banner on the top and my signature on the bottom, and everything will be fine.

Smithy nodded and left. After exiting the mansion grounds in his black M30 from the foreign Halberd Automotive Group, a car comparable in looks to a BMW 760Li, but slightly more powerful, he drove quickly to his office. Once he arrived, he sat down at his desktop and began to write a letter to the Concordia.

To The Spacium Concordia,

It has come to my attention through various channels that you have become interested in relations with the National Prestonian Party. Although our nation is authoritarian, let me assure you that we practice the strictest capitalist policies. At the moment, our nation is not formally recognized by many on the grand world scheme, and if I may be so bold, I would request of you a formal recognition of my nation followed by an exchange of embassies before we move to deepen any relations. In this way, we will take it as a sign of faith that you are truly behind us.

If, perhaps you were looking to explore deeper relations with the Party than just a mutual recognition and exchange of embassies, perhaps you could expound on your ideas. Any and all offers made by foreign nations will be considered, as our new nation is very much open to foreign investment.

Signed,
Albert Smithy
Minister of Foreign Affairs for the National Prestonian Party

William Sherman
President of the National Prestonian Party
Supreme Commander of the National Prestonian Liberation Forces

OOC: I need to RP the actual attack, but I must confer with CP about that first. I also wanted to get this much up to get you guys of my case >.> The letter is a real pos and I'll rework it if I get the chance, but the jist of the contents will remain the same.