NationStates Jolt Archive

Letter to Alexei Skylivovich Keltsin:

Comrade Keltsin, I would like to invite you to come to my office and share a bottle of wine with me while we discuss the future of Stoklomolvi under your rule. We would also like to offer you foreign aid, as we know that switching from communism to a free market is often times very hard.

Sincerely,
Anthony Northstorm,
Ambassador to Stoklomolvi.

Alexei sat in his office in a dilapidated apartment along the outskirts of Vladistov. He received loads of letters each day, and tried to read and reply to each one personally. However, it strained him, and he had over 3,000 backed up letters. Coincidentally, one of the letters was from the Yanitarian ambassador. He pulled out his golden envelope opener and sliced open the envelope. He took out the short letter, and pulled out a pen and wrote down his reply.
__________________
Letter to Anthony Northstorm

Greetings, kind sir. I would be most glad to visit you at the embassy; if I am elected, Stoklo-Yanitarian relations would be maintained to high standards, and I sincerely hope that the people of Stoklomolvi and Yanitaria prosper. I shall visit your embassy.

Signed,
Alexei Skylivovich Keltsin
Presidency Candidate for Stoklomolvi
__________________
He walked outside onto the gravel driveway, and hopped into his old and rusting model 1928 SWM car. It was a very old car, though it was also worth millions on the antique market; it was a prized possession, and Alexei hoped to increase prices for it before selling. So, he kept the old car. At any rate, he putted along the unmaintained roads, and would reach the embassy in an hour.

Earlier that day:
A team of Les Enfants Perdus operatives exited from a door in the middle of the embassy, all dressed in civilian clothes or YRA regular uniforms. One headed towards the apartment building across the street from the embassy.

Coincidentally, many people from the embassy rented rooms on the ground floor, while the top floor had been almost universally reserved for embassy operations, should Yanitarians stuck in Vladistov with out a visa be stranded.

The apartments on the top floor were of the lowest quality, owing to the almost non-existent funding given to the embassy for that purpose. The operative had no problem simply following an unsuspecting embassy secretary inside with out having a key to the front door, and he made his way up to the top floor, where he found the room he had chosen from the blueprints. He did not have the key, but he had no problem cutting through the cheap door with his bayonet. The particle board was a very easy to penetrate material, but he made some amount of noise.

At the same time he left, another operative walked around to the back door, where he picked the lock and entered the apartment through the kitchen. With in moments he was behind the second LEP operative as he sawed the door away from the lock.

The second operative carried a trombone case, which he cradled casually. Once the door was open, the first operative, checking to make sure the hallway was clear, drew a PP-93, which was believed to be inconspicuous in the oppressive communist nation.

He pushed open the door, and swept the room for any occupants. There were two people passed out of the couch, in an embrace.

The Day Before
Luc Goulin and Audry Torvalds were deeply in love, they thought. Luc was a poor artist from Yanitaria who primarily worked on paintings depicting the lives of the people of Stoklomolvi, who's culture he was fascinated with, despite his strictly anti-communist views. Audry was the daughter of one of the embassy workers, also from Yanitaria.

The two had met in Vladistov the previous year, and had been dating exclusively for at least six months. While Luc enjoyed the somewhat predictable lifestyle they had, and Audry enjoyed the somewhat exciting parts that the couple enjoyed when ever they went to parties.

While Luc took solace in his somewhat repetitive art style, Audry took solace in the arms of several of the local Stoklomolvi. At night, when the couple took the more intimate activities of the bedroom, she often recalled the ecstatic, if sticky, nights spent in the bathroom stall of an illegal dance club, and in the eyes of her lover she recalled her favorite companions of the Stoklomolvi nationality.

But tonight they would have to settle for one of Luc's favorite weekly events. A night spent at home, ordering food native to the southern Stemilov, and watching a movie on the Norsikian-made DVD player.

On the couch, with his lover in his arms and the food in his hands, he was content. And sleepy. In fact, as the movie dragged on, he felt it harder and harder to maintain his semi-lucid state. Audry had already started snoozing, and rested her head lightly on his shoulder.

The last thought before the sleeping aides mixed into his food kicked in is that the noodles were unusually powdery.

The Next Day:
The LEP operative carrying the trombone case set his package down on the counter and turned off the DVD player, which had, since presumably the night before, been switching between the main menu of the DVD, and the trailer for the movie.

The other operative switched off the lights in the apartment, and opened a window. He closed the cheap plastic blinds and closed the curtains, after checking the view briefly to ensure it was the correct one.

He drew an OTs-38 silent revolver, and with almost careless aim, he executed the couple that slept, heavily sedated on the couch.

The operative with the trombone quickly unlocked the lock in the doorway, holding it up against the frame. He stepped outside and closed the rest of the door. From a belt loop hung a small plastic bag, tucked under his jacket. From it he pulled a thick goop, rapid drying plaster that had already slightly begun to set. It was the same gaudy red color as the doors.

With one hand holding the lock onto the closed door, the other smeared the plaster against the door. The operative inside the room braced the door and lock, with the outside operative smoothed out the plaster with a small flat tool he pulled from his pocket. On the other side the operative put up a piece of tape to hold the lock in place, and cross braced it with another piece. He then opened the door, and the other operative, with out touching anything with his plaster covered hand, immediately did the same on the second side of the door.

The then pulled off the plaster smeared gloves, while the other operative pulled out a plastic grocery bag. The first operative dropped the pleather gloves into the grocery bag, which was quickly tied and handed to him. The plaster job would look wet and crude, but would likely fool anyone not directly in front of it. As the apartment was at the end of the hall, that was unlikely.

The operative now carrying the bag set it on the counter beside the couch, and opened the trombone case. In the dim light the other operative could clearly watch as the light glinted off of the light rubber gloves his counterpart now wore.

The operative who had carried the trombone took from the case an SY-43 semi-automatic designated marksman's rifle, chambered for the 8.5x70mm Yanit round, which was relatively heavy for the rifle. He pulled the styrofoam casing off of the scope, which had kept the sensative instrument set to a range that had been zeroed in a firing range in Yanitaria before their arrival.

He deployed the scope on the counter, with the barrel pointing at the window. He then threw the plastic grocery bag back into the case, closed it, and set it to the side of the rifle, close enough to be with in easy reach, but far enough to prevent him from knocking into it once he operated the rifle.

He then attached the scope, and pulled a new pair of gloves over the rubber ones he had been wearing. The other operative crouched half behind a wall, and aimed his gun at the door, ready to kill anyone that came down the hall.

Outside:
Two LEP operatives, dressed as Yanitarian Royal Army regulars, in their khaki uniforms, relieved the two guards patrolling the entrance to the embassy. They would greet any cars that came up to the embassy.

Inside, there was a pilots lounge, below the helipad above, and LEP operative from the Transportation Company sat reading a magazine. His helicopter was fueled, and across the street in front of the apartment sat an unmarked black sedan with tinted windows.

In a public parking lot a mile away, an embassy sedan, with flags detatched was waiting, with another LEP Transportation Company operative sitting at the wheel, dressed as a YRA regular.

They all waited to do their part.

OOC: I hope that was okay, and I took some liberties with the apartment, and Audry's relationships with several Stoklomolvi club goers.

Also, I assumed that since you use Warsaw Pact tech, that the russian weapons that the LEP operatives are using would be common in your nation. Further, I took the liberty in assuming that the Stoklomolvi people have dance clubs, and that the eastern Stemilov are chinese, and as such invented chinese food.

I know that is a lot to assume, so if you feel that I assumed to much of anything, please feel free to correct me and I'll change it back.

Oh, also, I called Stoklomolvi oppressive, but I assume that in comparison to the liberal Yanitaria, it is.

Again, if you dislike any part, just tell me and I'll change it.

OOC: I'm assuming that the action of the revolver operates something like this (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nagant_M1895). Ordinary revolvers cannot be silenced.

OOC: Don't tell the Russians that. (http://world.guns.ru/handguns/hg194-e.htm)

OOC: Ah thank you. I wrongheadedly assumed that you were using a supressor. My comment about ordinary revolvers, however, stands.

[OOC: Addressing your concerns, creative liberties are fine, though it should be noted that dance clubs are illegal for they impede industrial production :p . With my police force, I doubt that any could open, though I suppose one could be open because the Commissar decided to make the police "look the other way"...wink wink nudge nudge...I do use Warsaw Pact tech due to my lack of inventions [argh], and it is actually the southern Stelimov who have Chinese food [note that the east and west are parts of Russia, south is China]. Stoklomolvi is, frankly, very oppressive compared to other nations, since nobody could vote, and that everyone was always watched [think 1984 watched]. Thinkcrimes are punishable by death.]

The old car putted down the road, though in a few moments supporters swarmed the car while SMPF officers ran into the streets and blocked off the sides of the streets. Surprisingly, the whole scene looked rather similar to that of the Kennedar assassination in the Puppet States of Amerika years earlier; the previous Commissar spent months searching for a new puppet leader. So, ballistic experts were located on roofs, watching the old car below.

In the car, the capitalist peasant waved to the people, while the masses held his hand and such. The Yanitarian embassy was in view at the end of the road.

OOC: I changed it to an illegal dance club, and southern Stemilov. Is this acceptable?

Current Time, Apartment building Across the Street from Embassy:
The LEP operatives were alarmed by the sudden throng of people, as it meant more confusion. They were more concerned with the road blocks, which might prove to be a problem.

The LEP officers dressed as YRA regulars moved up to the gates, and shouted towards the SMPF officers, "Get these civilians out of here, they are impeding traffic, and we are expecting several deliveries today. They are a security risk as well, and we need them to disperse."

They were of course talking of several boxes of Yanitarian wine which the ambassadorial staff had ordered for their election day party. Since the bottles were quiet old, and from various vineyards in Yanitaria, they were to arrive by separate trucks that evening.

[OOC: 'Tis fine.]

The SMPF officer looked up and yelled back.

"There are multiple roads leading to your embassy, sir! We are under orders to watch over this road and prevent traffic from moving, sir!"

The old car just drove along, the capitalist peasant inside still waving, oblivious to the Yanitarians. The civilians continued to swarm the car, while an SMPF commissar walked up to the car and shot a very loud revolver into the air. The civilians quieted and immediately dispersed onto the side of the road. After a moment, the cheering resumed, and the car drove down the road while Alexei inside waved and stuck his head out random windows. His security detail soon arrived: an armoured car [BMP-3M] with a 100mm autocannon, carrying 3 crew and 4 infantry within. The capitalist then drove his car to the side of the road and exited, and walked over to the armoured car. He edged near it while waving.

"This is not acceptable. We need at least diplomatic traffic to be allowed through."

The sniper operative in the top floor of the apartment watched the confrontation. He motioned to the other LEP operative to move down the the kitchen to secure their exit. He threw the submachine gun to the other operative, who caught it quietly, before turning back to watching the confrontation through the blinds intently.

The other man slipped down the stairs, checked their contingency plan, and then ran off the the kitchen, which was situated next to the communal dining hall. There was a back window in the kitchen, which gave an excellent view of the scraggly back garden area.

The LEP operatives in front of the embassy also made it a point to watch the capitalist as he walked nearer and nearer to the gates. However it did not stop them from continuing to yell at the police officers. "Ambassador Northstorm practically grew up with King Norheim, and if his wine shipments are delayed, or if diplomatic vehicles cannot move in and out of the area, we can have assure you that the Commissar will hear about this from the mouth of His Lord Highness himself! You'd better move your asses now unless you want to see the business end of an execution squad!"

OOC: I assume that you have execution squads =3. Northstorm really will get pissed if his wine shipments are delayed.

The SMPF officer opened his mouth to speak, but shut it and turned back to watching the road. The capitalist continued to travel down the road street, waving to the bystanders. Suddenly, a man fell off a roof, uniform telling that he was a ballistics expert. As the crowd began to panic, the other ballistics officers raised their pistols and started shooting at the seven communist supporters standing on the roof, shooting at the armoured car. The capitalist quickly ducked down, and the autocannon started taking pot shots at the communists on the roof. Gunfire was impacting on virtually every surface as the SMPF started shooting upwards, ballistics officers were shooting at the communists level to them, and the communists shooting at everybody. Three civilians were downed, and a number of civilians were shot in their appendages.

"Fuck!" the LEP soldier said, as the two raised their rifles, and fired at the roof. They intentionally did not fire at the communist supporters. In a single movement, while firing through the gate, he kicked it open.

His training allowed him to think on his feet while under fire. The two LEP soldiers, with out thinking, knew that this was the perfect chance. Just as they had done with a number of politicians around the world, they would use the attempted assassination to enact their own planes.

They skirted the wall of the embassy, before jumping behind a car which belonged to one of the embassy workers. Rounds exploded around them, as the glass from the window, and pieces of hot steel from the car showered them. They paused for mere seconds before leaping out from their cover, and charging towards the BMP. Their radios seemed to go crazy as security personnel inside the embassy started shouting for

The second LEP operative was nicked in the back of the head, as his beret fell to the ground, he tripped, befored crawling the last meter towards the relative safety behind the armoured personnel carrier. The first operative took his arm and dragged him behind the vehicle, and began applying first aid.

As he did so, he said the the capitalist, who had taken cover, "we need to get you to the embassy, and lock it down." The radios were still humming with chatter, which mostly talked about how the ambassador needed to be evacuated immediately. "We can take you by helicopter to the airport, with the ambassador."

The communists started falling, and two of them were down after the Yanitarians had reached the armoured car. The SMPF officers ignored them and continued to shoot up the communists on the roof, who decided that the Yanitarians were going to rig up the BMP with a satchel of some sort. Two ballistics officers toppled. The lead communist pulled out a C4 and yelled to the soldiers below. He threw the C4 at the LEP soldiers before taking a bullet through the eye, killing him instantly. The other communists' morale broke, and they began to flee before SMPF officers appeared on the roof and mowed them down, sending their bodies flying over the side of the roof and landing on the armoured car. The armoured car began to speed up.

[OOC: From a previous post, "The capitalist quickly ducked down...", presumably into the BMP. Just to clarify before proceeding.]

OOC: Oh, sorry, I was under the assumption that he was walking beside the BMP. I'll delete my previous post and just rig it with explosives.

The LEP operative pounced on the C-4 charge. What luck, he thought, as he quickly set the detonator for 8 seconds, and threw it towards the turret. He moved quickly scooped up his comrade, before running.

It took him about four seconds to reach his partner, who was bleeding severely. As he started running, he yelled to the police officers, and, secretly, to the shooter in the top story of the building across the street, "THEY THREW A CHARGE ONTO THE APC!"

[OOC: A secret yell...brilliance in the making :p . I'll try out my new fake language here :p .]

The charge blew the top of the APC clean off, and several hands and feet flew through the air. Amazingly, the capitalist was unharmed save for a few bruises, and hopped out of the APC and started running into a nearby building before tripping over a teapot and smashing into the glass door, severely wounding him. An SMPF officer ran over to the bleeding capitalist and propped him up.

"Итўилл бе алригхт, комраде, йустхолд он а шортлыўхилелонгер."

The capitalist extended his hand and pointed at the fleeing LEP officers.

"Тхеыхаве триед токиллме, комраде."

He passed out. Three of the SMPF officers trained their guns on the fleeing Yanitarians, but for fear of setting off an international incident he stuck his fingers into the air and waved them around. A ballistics officer on a roof nodded and drew a big net out of his bag. Then, he tossed the weighted net onto the Yanitarians. The other SMPF officer kicked open the door and started dragging the capitalist inside.

OOC: Is he, by any chance in the building across the street from the embassy?.

The two operatives were knocked to the ground by the explosion, as the net fell onto them. The one, uninjured one, screamed at the top of his lungs, "What The HELL do you think you are doing up there? We are on the same god damn side!"

[OOC: He's along the street that runs away from your embassy down to some random place.]

"Ёунеарлы киллед оне офтхе пресидентиалцандидатес!"

Two SMPF officers ran into the middle of the street, and tied up the LEP officers on the spot. The burning hulk of the armoured car blocked their view of the Yanitarian embassy.

Meanwhile, the capitalist was bleeding profusely, and the situation did not improve any bit when a communist appeared in the back room, armed with an AK-47. The SMPF officer raised his pistol to shoot at the communist, only to be blasted to bits by automatic fire. Another SMPF officer appered from behind and dragged the communist down, setting off the AK-47 which pierced through the roof tiles into the concrete roof above. The capitalist lied there, slowly dying from blood loss, though a large squadron of twelve had climbed down the roof into the building, and ran into the office area where the capitalist was kept. The communist was knocked in the head by the butt of a rifle, and it was realised that said communist was in fact a Field Commissar. He was dragged away into a BMP in the back of the one storey office. The capitalist was placed in a stretcher, and two SMPF officers walked out the front. As the first officer stepped out of the building, he tripped and dropped his end of the stretcher, causing the capitalist to jerk and fall off the stretcher onto the broken glass back down. The two officers moved to put him back into the stretcher.

The LEP Operatives protested madly. "How can you tie us up!? We are on the EXACT SAME SIDE! If you do not release us right now, my comrade will bleed to death, and THEN we'll go directly to King Norheim II, who will talk directly to the Commissar! If you do not let us go right this instant, I'll make sure you all see the execution squad by first light! Don't you know that it is against the law, or at the very least common decency, to arrest your allies!? LET US GO!"

The capitalist lied on the stretcher, who was carried into the street. He was in full view of the embassy.

The SMPF officer fired a tranquilliser dart at the conscious LEP officer. Then, several [4] SMPF officers ran up to the two tied up Yanitarians, and treated their wounds.

OOC: I predict a diplomatic shit storm brewing. Hopefully the capitalist will have the common decency to die. Anyways, I don't have anything planned, so go ahead and haul them off, and call my ambassador. He is probably half way to Yanitaria by now.

[OOC: I've been emphasising his vulnerability so that you could shoot him...]

OOC: I could offer him asylum if you really don't want him in the picture...

OOC: I didn't want to have my guy lean out the window to do it though. Truthfully, I doubt he can see much of the street below, and probably mostly just the sidewalk. But I suppose I'd better take the shot.

The shooter leaned up against the blinds, carrying his weapon. He slipped on a case collection bag, which would also reduce the gun powder residue left in the room. Although at the moment that was the least of his worries. He would have exactly one shot to take the capitalist out, and something told him that if he didn't do it that moment, that he would survive.

From his standing position, he took aim, and watched as the capitalist was carried in the stretcher. He had hesitated to long, and there was a good chance that he might just end up shooting the SMPF officer, in which case he would have to hope that the powerful round simply punched through what ever armour he was wearing.

Through the scope, he looked the mans face. He drew a breath, steadied his aim. He'd have only one shot.

He pulled the trigger, and with out looking to see if his years of experience had paid off, he tossed the gun into the trombone case, closed it, and hit the latch.

Below him his partner heard the shot. Because of the SMPF presence, the had decided for plan B He walked over to one of the rooms, and open the door, just as his partner was making his way down the stairs. The shooter dropped the case under the bed, and quickly exited through the door. His partner shut and locked it.

They made their way to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped into the warm sunlight.

OOC: Like I said Stok, if you want him to survive and just flee or something, see your election thread for my government's offer. Or just kill him, whatever. I just thought it might be interesting to play this into some sort of drawn-out political exile/intrigue.

The bullet whizzed by the helmet of the SMPF officer just as he was stooping down to pick up the capitalist. It impacted into the capitalist's skull and entered the cranial cavity, and burst the brain into grey bits that fell out of the entry and exit holes. He died instantly. The SMPF officer, noting that blood was pooling around the head of the corpse, immediately signalled another officer, who arrived only to see the dead capitalist on a stretcher. He grinned.

"Ўеллтхе ступидцапиталист исноў апилеоф мушонтхе гроунд."

He poked the deflated head, and yelled at several SMPF officers. He pointed at the corpse.

"Такетхисман тотхеморгуе форехаминатион. Тхе Цоммиссарўилл бемостплеасед..."

Five officers appeared from the one storey building behind them and examined the body.

"Ўходидтхис?"

"Икноўнот. Ўхоцарес?"

The officer shrugged and walked off to the tied up Yanitarians. The other officers picked up the corpse and placed it in the stretcher, where they carried it away.

Now that the shooting had ended, and it didn't seem to be starting again, the Ambassador decided it would just be safer to drive to the airport. As his limo pulled out of the gate, he saw two of his guards tied up on the street, attended by SMPF officiers.

"Stop the car!" He yelled to his driver. He got out, followed quickly by a YRA regular, a real one, and stomped over to the tied up YRA regulars. "Why have you decided to tie up my embassy guard?"

The four officers looked at one another, shrugged, and lugged the net and stuffed it into the back of a waiting BMP.

The ambassador was shocked, and immediately had his cell phone out. In a matter of seconds, he was explaining the situation to King Norheim II himself, who had just landed in Akimonad. The conversion went something along the lines of...


"Fred, listen to this, I have two embassy guards being hauled off to a Stoklomolvi prison."

"Well that can't be right. Are you positive?"

"Yes, it's happening right now! You know I wouldn't make something like this up! One of them has bandages on his head, and they both appear to be unconscious. I believe they've been beaten. You must do something!"

"Yes, I suppose. Look, my plane just landed, and I need to meet with Dr. Hodz. I'll phone Alexei quickly now."

With that, the king quickly flipped up his phone, and opened it. It only took him a second to find the Commissar's number.

Commissar Alexei sat in his chair, reading over loads of paperwork and such. Lazily, he corrected and stamped some papers as his bureaucrats packed up his things for his retirement next year. Suddenly, the intercom sounded, and his female secretary spoke through a microphone.

"Sir, King Norheim II of Yanitaria has called."

Instantly, Alexei perked up.

"I'll pick it up straight away."

The intercom died, and Alexei picked up the phone on his desk.

"Hello? Comrade Norheim?"

"Comrade Alexei! I trust I find you well? Ah, before I get ahead of myself, I must admit that I am in a bit of a hurry, and so we should save pleasantries for a later date. You see, I am headed to an important meeting-but I am starting to shift topics.

"You see, my ambassador has called me, and apparently a couple of his guards have been arrested. I seem to have forgotten to ask why, but apparently they have been mistreated. If perhaps they have done something wrong, could I ask you to release them into the custody of our police? And if they haven't perhaps a word from yourself could expedite their release?

"You know that I would not usually ask something so small from you, however the ambassador to Stoklomolvi is a friend of mine, since childhood, and I do trust his judgment of character. Also, I would not want my ambassador to be under protected, what with all the capitalists attempting to seize power in the elections."

"This is most upsetting. I shall be telling them off straight away. Thank you for informing me, for it is a great pleasure to finally see that capitalist dead. I may see you soon, comrade."

He hung up and put on his coat. Grigor appeared in the door, carrying a very large stack of boxes.

"Hello, comrade! Going out so soon?"

Alexei laughed.

"Soon? It's already in the evening! I have some matters with the Yanitarian embassy and the SMPF."

"Ah. Don't get too carried away."

"What's in the boxes?"

"Some of them have your stuff in them, others have ammunition, you know the random thing."

"Ah. See you in an hour."

"Right."

Alexei dashed out the door and stumbled onto the stairwell. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could and burst into the main lobby of the Kremlin. He ran out the door and went over to the embassies on foot. Sure enough, his men were wrangling with two Yanitarians and the ambassador himself. He raised his hand and walked over.

"Stand attention!"

The SMPF immediately stopped what they were doing and saluted. Alexei walked over to the ambassador.

"What has happened here?"

"Commissar Alexei, it is a pleasure to see you so soon! These officers are attempting to arrest my embassy guards!"

The one LEP operative that was semi-lucid slurred, through tranquilized lips, "we're try'n' ta safe de can'a'date, bu' fuggin' ne'..." The Operative, constricted by the formal Dress Greys could not take in enough oxygen to struggle, and, because of the constrictive clothing and net, toppled over and started clawing at the buttons. It took a moment before he ripped open the outer coat, revealing the white crew neck t-shirt below.

It was another moment before he could breath normally, though, and he could regain composure. Righting himself, he sat cross legged with one hand on the head of his partner. "He was hit in the head, and I had to drag him behind the APC. Then the fuckers on the roof threw this block at us. I picked it up and realized it was C4. I messed with the detonator, because the screen had broken, and I realized it was on. I tried throwing it, but the uniform I am wearing is very stiff, and I dunno what happened. I picked up my friend here, and I ran, but I shouted a warning that there was a bomb.

"Next thing I knew, we were on the ground and the SMPF were taking us into custody, and shooting us with tranquilizer darts!"