NationStates Jolt Archive

Kirill-grad, The Hash

"For too long, comrades! For too long have we suffered! For too long have we been oppressed by the capitalist swine! For too long have we allowed the rule of dog-eat-dog capitalism! Oh they will speak to you of freedom! They will speak to you of property rights! They will speak to you of economic growth!”

The crowd was actually quite large – about ten thousand people, converged in the town square of an old factory town. Out of the 120,000 adult inhabitants, 70,000 worked for the Allanean Arms automotive division. Of course, not everybody here was an Allanean Arms worker. Among the blue company uniforms, young college students darted to and fro. One such student was Cho Kong Liu, who had recently returned from a year of study in a foreign university – and now he was speaking.

"Comrade workers! What is this economic growth to you? From every dollar the economy grows, you get two cents! What are these two cents to you if Kevin Nivensky gets fifty? What is this property to you? Can you afford anything but a small home with two bedrooms? Kevin Nivensky owns his own duchy! What is this liberty to you? You slave away for nine hours a day at the factory, and crawl home so tired you can barely walk! What madness is this?”

"Yeah!” - a person in the crowd shouted - “Right on!”

Liu pushed on - “Did you know that medical care is free in Ariddia? THAT'S RIGHT! Free! You there! How much do you pay for your health insurance?”

"Oh, forty-five Kevin bucks a month.” - a tall, unshaven worker said.

"You heard that? Eighty universal dollars! For medical care! From a wage of eleven hundred dollars per month! What madness is this, people? Kevin Nivensky should be paying for your health care, not you! You should have a proper wage! And proper working hours! I say this Union should ask for better wages! And by better wages, I mean at least a twenty-five percent rise! And less hours! Everybody else works for eight hours!”

There were murmurs in the crowd, murmurs of disagreement promptly hushed down. From the islands of whispering that were the college students, the screams of “Yeah! Right! Let's go on strike!” started emanating.

Minutes later, the crowd was roaring, shaking fists, chanting.

"Strike! Strike! Strike! Strike!”

Two days later, Allanean Arms' Personnel Relations

"So let me get this straight. They want us to pay... a twenty-five percent pay rise, for less work – so we'll need to hire ten percent more people, increasing expenses even more, because these will also be paid a full salary, and then we'll have pay them an additional fifty kevinbucks each for their goddamn health care? And they want us to turn a profit... how exactly?”

"Beats me.”

"Maybe they want us to negotiate down to something decent.”

Kirill-Grad

"A five percent pay rise! They're goddamn messing with us! I tell you, they're insulting our honor! But let me tell you, there be good news!”

One of the workers walked up to the podium. “What be those good news, Harvey?”

"I have received news from Progressi-City. There's been a union formed there – the City Train and Autoworkers Union. They've stopped all trains at the Central Station there, and are starting a sit-in strike.”

"A sit-in strike? That's sort of illegal, isn't it?”

"This is Allanea, damn it all! What are they going to do, fight us in the streets?”

Strikes Paralyze The Hash
Liberty Times

The Hash has long been known for it's Progressive tendencies. Before the Allanean annexation of the area, it practiced a welfare state of gargantuan proportions. Now, it seems that they wish to re-enact the later 19th century Progressive Movement, with a wave of strikes. Unfortunately, while only around 500,000 workers are on strike, they include train workers at the key train deport at Progressi City, who have barricaded themselves in, and effectively shut off freight train communications to the city…

Vladimir Pyetrochev
General Secretary, Proletarian Revolutionary Party of Izhevskia
June 4, 2008

Dear workers of Allanea,

We are delighted and throughly ecstatic to hear of your recent developements toward proletarian revolution. We salute your self-dignity and class-consciousness, and give forth all our available resources to support your emancipation and economic unity. We are firmly allied with you as a class, and class dictatorship, being the total goals of us each, must be the world's common goal. Remember, revolution is the only road to socialism! Do not bend to the whims of bourgeois "democracy" and fascism! Fight them in the streets!

Official Communique from the Volzgradien Government


To: The Mighty Workers of Allanea
Re: Freedom

Greetings comrade workers, we are delighted that you have seen the corruption and decadence of Capitalism as an enemy. Volzgrad will supply all the materials, supplies, and resources necessary to make Allanea a socialist state. Long have the rich elite ruled over the working classes with an iron fist. But now is the time for revolution! Rise up fellow workers, toward freedom!

Sincerely,
Premier Vladimir Venkovich

Secret Message from the Benevolent Revolutionary Union of Rail Workers to Comrade Pyetrochev
Ever seen the Matrix? We need guns. Lots of guns.

Secret Message from the Benevolent Revolutionary Union of Rail Workers to Premier Vladimir Venkovich
Will your statements of support take the form of money, and perhaps instructors? It's pretty easy to get a visa to Allanea from Volzgrad, and when your officials arrive - under some guise – they can surely assist us.

Secret Message from the Benevolent Revolutionary Union of Rail Workers to Comrade Pyetrochev
Ever seen the Matrix? We need guns. Lots of guns.

Secretary of the Proletarian Defense Coalition Comrade Jacob Gurelmann
Secret Message
Date and Time Classified

Not a problem. About how strong is your revolutionary force? 50,000? More? Less?

Secret Message

As you know, over 500,000 workers are now participating in the strikes. Not all are yet aware that violence may erupt, but practically everybody has a weapon of some sort. The problem is that while weapons like RPGs and mortars are commercially available in Allanea, they are very expensive, and unaffordable for a mere factory worker - and further, some companies limit their sales for liability reasons. Perhaps you would help us compensate for this?

Secret Message

As you know, over 500,000 workers are now participating in the strikes. Not all are yet aware that violence may erupt, but practically everybody has a weapon of some sort. The problem is that while weapons like RPGs and mortars are commercially available in Allanea, they are very expensive, and unaffordable for a mere factory worker - and further, some companies limit their sales for liability reasons. Perhaps you would help us compensate for this?

Jacob Gurelmann
Secret Message
Date and Time Classified

You then require no small arms? We will provide such weapons as you desire free of charge, including support weapons such as Vitorez and Dragunov sniper rifles and NSV heavy machine guns, as well as RPG-29s and 2-B14 Podnos 82mm Mortars, and AKM assault rifles, as we assume automatic weapons are difficult to acquire in your nation. Any other arms may be more expensive to produce, and we will able to provide them in limited quantities.

Secret Message:

We recommend that you send a few agents to our country – getting legal visas to Allanea is really easy – and either purchase these weapons in Allanean stores, or smuggle them. Smuggling arms into Allanea is easy, because they only really inspect for WMD's and for stuff that has tariffs on it.

To: Allanea Strikers Movement
From: Kingdom of Lynion, King Ranakin

Lynion is happy to hear that you are rising up to gain your freedom. Even though Lynion isn't a communist state, we are willing to send you men, supplies and equipment. Should you accept it, we wish to send two squads of Lynion Assassin's (Elite Special Forces) to secure a ground and base of operations as well as making contact with your movement.

Secret Reply:

We are happy to do so, but how will you penetrate Allanea's borders?

It is extremely difficult to arrive here without going through the channels of legal travel, as the capitalists are paranoid about illegal immigration for some reason.

To: Allanea Strikers Movement
From: Kingdom of Lynion, King Ranakin

Hmm... do you have a border with the sea? If not, I'll have to send the squads dressed as tourists to get inside but with limited weapons.

Secret reply, sent from the same hotmail outbox as the previous one

Hash is on a large island. Gigantic, even. Think somewhere between Australia and South America.

To: Allanea Strikers Movement
From: Kingdom of Lynion, King Ranakin

Ahh... I've found a map of your island. I can send the men by submarine with supplies for a company. All we required is a landing area and it'll have to be under the cover of darkness.

What beaches do you currently hold?

Secret reply, sent from the same hotmail outbox as the previous one

We hold no beaches, but we suggest landing at coordinates XYZ. That beach is unused, and rarely even visited, as there's only jungle there. Our men will meet you there.

To: Allanea Strikers Movement
From: Kingdom of Lynion, King Ranakin

The two squads have already being sent by submarine with supplies as well. They will land at XYZ Beach within 6 hours. They will be dressed in jungle camo uniform with a slouch hat in jungle camo paint. They will be carrying several steel boxes with ammo and weapons between them. Their commander is Vamperial Knight Mavax and his second in command is slightly mutated but is an excellent fighter, Vamperial Knight Mavis.

Remember they will land within 6 hours as they have already left an hour ago.

OOC: Vamperial? He a vampire?

IC

On the Beach:

Several large trucks awaited the Knights as they landed. Fifteen of the union activists awaited – mostly the same college students that protested in Kirillgrad. They looked highly uncomfortable – and for a reason. They've never done this sort of thing before.

In Progressi-City

In the meanwhile, Taggart Trains' train police, augmented by local cops and their Allanea Rail, started amassing forces in the city. A court order has been sent into the train depots, reminding the strikers that sit-in the strikes were illegal, and that they were trespassing on private property.

Some strikers indeed left, but other men, dressed in green, went in. Entrances were barricaded, and ammunition and weapons prepared for what would soon be a fight.

OOC: ahaha! On the serious side though. They are sought of similiar to a Jedi Knight. Except Vamperial Knights are more skilled and they don't have the power of the force. No they're not Vampire's.

IC:

The men climbed into the topedo's as a weapons crate was tossed in behind them. The topedo's were a new design, aimed at sending the people inside to the landing site they were meant to arrive. It didn't take long for the 18 topedo's to beach themselves on the beach.

As the topedo's landed, the top part automatically came off. The Assassin's stood tall as they stretch their arms and legs from a cramp 15 minute ride underwater. Mavax and Mavis made the two squads gather their gear and the equipment they were meant to have being carrying. They quickly spun around as a young adult appeared out of the shurbery.

"You must be part of the movement right?" asked Mavis.

"I'm the commander. Vamperial Knight Mavax and these are my men sent here to aid you and prepare a landing zone for the Lynion Forces," introduced Mavax.

One of the people – a young boy with extremely long hair – nodded. "Please come with me. We must hurry. They will likely soon try to cut off the depots – so we must get there before they do."

OOC- speaking for all watching capatilist's, will Allanea be calling for help? because all we know is your having riots - i personaly don't wnat to see more comunists. they smell bad.

OOC: Wait and watch. :D

The Lynion's piled the steel boxes onto the trucks as they mounted onto the trucks. They helped the teenagers to board as they checked their weapons and opened the boxes.

"Mavis," said Mavax into the intercom. "Hand out the pistol's to the resister's and make sure someone has that AP Luancher armed just in case we encounter armour or air support,"

"Copy that Mav," replied Mavis.

Mavax opened the steel box and it was filled with numerous pistols and clips which was handed to the teenagers. On the bottom of one of them was an AP Luancher designed to take out tanks and air support which was a wonder these days.

"You can shoot?" asked Mavax.

"A pistol, yes, not the AT launcher. Everybody can shoot a pistol or a rifle in Allanea. Now, let us go. We will discuss that at the depot. If we are cut off, there will be nothing we can do! "

And so the trucks started moving.

OOC: Detailed post about t he situation in the depot will be here tomorrow.

Mavax looked at the young teenager and knew what he was talking about. He was worried about a stronger force coming after them.

"Hey," started Mavax. "We're one of the world's most well armed specil forces and we can take out most things,"

Secret Message:

We recommend that you send a few agents to our country – getting legal visas to Allanea is really easy – and either purchase these weapons in Allanean stores, or smuggle them. Smuggling arms into Allanea is easy, because they only really inspect for WMD's and for stuff that has tariffs on it.

Jacob Gurelmann
Secret Message
Date and Time Classified

We will smuggle these arms into the nation as coal imports to a company named "Allanean Coal, Inc." They will arrive by air from a base located in a different nation which has here been with-held. Expect these to arrive within 6 months.

The Izhevskian workers loaded the large, heavy boxes onto the An-72, which had been re-painted as a Civilian cargo aircraft carrying coal. The contents of the box were confidential, but many of them had painted in large letters "Fragile: Do not Drop."

Boris Gyorbyanev, an Izhevskian worker, had remembered dealing with similar crates during the revolution. He spoke to the overseer. "Comrade, to whom are these crates going?"
"A foreign coal producer."
"These are not military arms, comrade?" The overseer was pensive, and then responded.
"To Allanea, for the workers there. You may not spread this information."

A swell of proletarian pride took over Gyorbyanev as the fans of the plane began to turn and the revolution took flight off into Allanea.

Days later, the plane landed in Kirillgrad, and trucks loaded the equipent and shipped it off towards coordinates XYZ to support the forces arriving there. As they neared the beach, 12.7mm Kord Machine Guns and 9K38 Anti-Air weapons were taken out. All "coal" personnel donned Assault Rifles and combat gear for the jungles. The Leader of these transport officers, Marshall Grant, an Immigrant, took out his phone and called over a protective frequency the proletarian forces at the beach.

"13.00 hours.
We are armed and ready for possible combat.
Full transport of the arms will arrive. 550,000 AKMs, 8,000 Dragunov SVDs, 2,000 Stechkin APS for Special Forces, as well as 2000 VSS Vintorez for Special forces. We have sent 10,000 RPG-29 and 40,000 warheads. As well, 500 9K38 Igla and 2000 missiles. 10,000 RPD Light Machine Guns and 10,000 Kord Heavy Machine guns. We have trusted you to provide side arms, shotguns, and hunting rifles which may be used.

ETOA 3 hours."

OOC: AKMs are actually the rifle of choice for poor Allaneans. Also... that's just too much stuff. It would require hundreds of aircraft to get in. Can we downgrade this an order of magnitude or three?

OOC: Izhevskia and the other guys can freely assume to have small groups of agents at the Terminal. Just keep it realistic. No companies of mechanized infantry magically smuggling through my borders, okay? My nation is paranoid about illegal immigration.
IC:
Progressi Terminal

The Progessi Terminal's rail depots stretched over several square miles of open-air and semi-open constructions, mostly designed for accepting freight trains. The passenger terminal, while luxurious and spacious, occupied only a small portion of the area.

Right now it was barricaded off by overturned furniture, bits of rail, and various equipmenmt the train workers had moved in. As the trucks carrying the foreign operatives moved in through one of the back exits, they could see similar defenses being erected at various other enternaces to the depot.

The train workers – some in black Taggart Trains livery, and others in white Allanea Rail outfits – looked tired and dejected. Several of the freight cars have been broken into, and the workers had subsisted – for several days now – on the food carried on the trains they held up.

Outside, forces were being slowly drawn up against them. The primary body was composed of Train Police – private law enforcers, wearing little armor, and carrying submachineguns and rifles – and of state and local cops, often armed even more lightly. SWAT teams were nowhere to be seen, but it was expected that they would turn up at the first bit of violence. Further, the middle-class and upper-class denizens of Liberty-City had had their fill of previous riots – and had created their own paramilitaries.

Admittedly, this included the Benevolent Artillery Company – which, despite its shiny name, only had five elderly cannon, purchased by virtue of passing the hat among several dozen local lawyers who thought the cannons would be fun to shoot at some outdoor range – and the Suburban Constitutional Militia, which involved several hundred slgihtly overweight, pasty folks with rifles.

But many of the workers were not really serious about spilling blood. When they saw the glint of bayonets on SCM rifles, and the flashing lights of police cars, some of them decided to turn themselves in – and others, more plentiful, simplt snuck out of the gates. Right now, anything was fine as far as the PCPD was concerned. The fleeing workers were not arrested.

What the PCPD did not know, however, was that the ARA – the Allanean Republican Army – was slowly pumping in men into the depot. They were few – but what the fleeing workers detracted in numbers, they more than made up for in dedication and quality.

Outside the Passenger Terminal

Outside the Terminal stood a fat, tall man with a black beard, carrying a megaphone and wearing heavy body armor. He raised the megaphone to his mouth and spoke:

"Attention, trespassers! Technically speaking, we are now allowed to shoot you, and, if you somehow survive, sue you for the millions – you hear me, millions – of dollars of damages you've done to hundreds of innocent businessmen who've done nothing wrong and have nothing to do with your quibble with the train owners! Technically speaking, we are allowed to then imprison you! But you know what, we won't! We will only imprison the ringleaders! All you need to do is is come out with your hands up! We are surrounding the depot!”

"Again, we are surrounding the depot! You have no chance to mount successful resistance of any kind. You are heavily outgunned and outnumbered - “ here, the policeman was bluffing, but there was no way they could know - “and have no chance of holding the place against us! You have one hour to make your decision!”

OOC: So this is like the winter palace, eh?

Then fifteen troops on the coal train, after dropping the weapons at the beach, donned civilian clothing and worked their way to the depot. At 15.00 hours a few days later, they formed a special-operations arm to the ARA. Armed with AK-74U compact assault rifles, Vintorez VSS Sniper rifles, RPD machine guns, and Stechkin machine pistols, They and their inconspicuous suitcases, stashed neatly in the back of their stolen ambulance- flashing lights and sirens wailing, stormed the terminal. The first soldier took out his Stechkin and, under the chaos of the building, began shooting at police medics. The next man set up a sniper perch on the top of the building and began turning top-profile policemen into cadavers. Eight men brandished their Kalashnikovs and fought with the Allanean workers. The last 5 men took some workers and bombarded police establishments and vehicles with mortar fire. For these men, the revolutionary spirit of their time would never leave.

Anders Monroe was a reporter-at-arms. In the past, he had worked for countless local militias, the Vantelander Army, the Colonial Defence Force, and way back when, served as a Questerian sailor, and before that a member of the newly formed Republic Fourth Dragoons during the later days of the Vante-Gholgothic War. After fighting and reporting on the Free Commonwealth's first, and only, to-date, colony, he had been stationed in Haven to report on events there. After a year of reporting on the refugee and seperatist movement of Vantanians in southern Questers, he had eventually moved over the border to report in Allanea. Soon, he had caught whiff of the situation in the Hash, and had immediantly made his way there.

Now, he stood, feeling somewhat ridiculous, in full military armor. In his lap lay a notebook and pen, ready to catch down notes on the event. Part of his helm was a military-standard video camera, which would be able to cover for that if events got violent. Supplies were located in his pack, which was fastened tightly to his back. Also strapped to him was a rifle, semi-automatic. Whatever events transpired here today, he was ready for them, even if they meant fighting the Reds.

Mavax and Mavis took the marksmen with them as they climbed up onto the roof. They lay down as the marksmen, Jackson, pulled out his high powered sniper rifle. He looked through the scope as he watched the fat man come forward and give his terms.

"Hot diggity!" shouted Jackson from the roof tops. "We've got enough fire-power to the blow the sh** out of you and I'm not bloody bluffin! So I suggest the lot of you go home and this is the Lynion's reply!"

Jackson lined up the rifle with the side of the mega-phone and fired anti-personal round through it. He watched it bounce out of the fat man's hand as they retreated into the building itself.

"You realise we can get into trouble from home?" stated a private.

"That's why we get paid the big bucks to do so," replied Mavax as he got the resistance attention. "Hey! Those bastards outside reckon you can't hold out simply because your workers. What are you going to do about that? We're gonna send those bastards to hell and we'll make them wish that they should've argeed to your terms!" Shouted Mavax.

The Lynion's took up positon as the AP-3's were loaded with two rounds, clips checked and sniper rounds checked.

About two thousand Communists from Kahanistan booked passage for Allanea through various airports and shipping lines. Over 95% of these Communists were just college students, some with military training as the Ministries of Defence and Education were working to implement a plan to have everyone graduate from high school with basic combat training to have a well-trained reserve force it could call on in the event of war. However, few had brought their own weapons, expecting to be able to get better weapons in Allanean stores, or more likely, expecting a non-violent protest.

As if.

The other 100 or so Communists, however, were former soldiers who had substantial experience fighting the Doomani and other capitalist scum in the Haven War. These tended to bring their own weapons, mainly the Aequatian G100 that was now standard issue to the Kahanistanian Army.

A leader of the party cells informed the Allanean striker leaders through an encrypted channel that help was coming from Kahanistan...

A leader of the party cells informed the Allanean striker leaders through an encrypted channel that help was coming from Kahanistan...

Promptly did Izhevskia intercept the message and within hours had contacted Kahanistan. A shipment of arms, for such a small force mostly side arms and assault rifles, would arrive in 4 freight trucks in three days. Many of these were surplus from the previous shipment already in the country, but some would be clandestinely brought into the country by agents. Quite an international brigade was forming in Allanea...

35 minutes later

Quite a few people had now left. Every minute, it seemed, a worker – sometimes with a friend or two – would make it towards one of the barricades, and then leave, their rifles slung behind them and unloaded. The militiamen outside simple pretended not to see the workers.

And then, the man with the megaphone went out before the Terminal before, raising the megaphone to his mouth once more:

"Hey, guys. You've got less than half an hour left, but I've got news to tell you. Allanean Arms made a deal with the workers in Kirillgrad. They'll be getting a pay rise. Now, I would like to tell you that Taggart Trains has agreed to raise your pay, and Allanea Rail will likely be following suit.” - he did not say that various companies that lost profits due to the strikes were already prepared to sue the union for millions of dollars. No need to poison the moment.

There was a pause as the various workers turned towards the student leaders. Awkward silence hung in the air, and then one of the ARA operatives jumped on a soapbox – a literal box marked Special Soaps that has been looted from one of the trains.

"Fuck this crap! If anybody wants to leave they're welcome to! But I will stay and fight! We have support from the Izhevskians and the Lynians right here! We have Kahanistani volunteers! We will fight these pigdogs! Allaneans don't surrender!”

And so, even as most of the workers, and even the college students that started it all, began to leave, a hard nucleus of resistance – ARA fighters, dedicated Socialists, and so forth -still held the depot.

Soon enough, the fight would begin.

Only about fifty of the volunteers from Kahanistan remained at the passenger terminal. The majority of the volunteers, like the majority of the Allaneans, seemed to have smelled victory - they had, after all, won a wage increase.

Not all of them, however, saw victory in the increased wages. One of those who did not was one Samuel Tyler, former Major in the Kahanistanian Army. He was 32 years old, well over six feet tall and 240 pounds, (182 cm, 110 kg), and had an intimidating steel plate in his head and over where his right eye had been until it was shot out by a Doomani soldier in the last war.

Approaching the soapbox where the ARA operative was speaking, he stood next to it and bellowed in the fashion of a drill sergeant who had to address an entire field full of recruits.

"Sure," he roared, brandishing an Aequatian G100 affixed to which was an Allanean Arms bayonet, "we've gotten concessions, now. We have a little pay raise... or do we? Seven hundred and twenty-seven years ago, the English people revolted (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peasants'_Revolt) against the people who held them as serfs. They managed to win some concessions... and then, the king killed their leaders and went back on the whole deal. If you go back to work now... not only will these people renege on your demands, but they'll probably sue you and jail you!"

As the leader of The Socialist States of The New Soviet Union I declare my support for your workers and lend any help that is needed

we must break the chains of capitalism

Gurelmann signed the order, and a small force- just 300 special-operations personnel, was leaving (again as coal workers) to Allanea to fight. For security reasons this time the transport carried coal; they would pick up the weapons there. As he had finished his signature, Pyetrochev walked in.

"Comrade, how is the situation in Allanea?"
"Arbitrary, perhaps. The workers have received raises, but we predict more violence will soon erupt."
"I want to increase security. If necessary, make sure the Air Force can protect the nation. We are not taking any risks, comrade."
"Of course comrade General Secretary. However, I refuse to declare, at this point, war on Allanea."
"That is the Poliburo's decision, not mine or yours," said Pyetrochev with an indifferent shrug.
"Yes Comrade. Da sveedanya."
"Da sveedanya, Comrade."

Gurelmann would now wait for the Politburo's decision. And, did he wait. He sat for hours, biting his nails and looking at his watch. Then, at 19:17 in the evening, he received the memo.

"By a vote of 56 to 31, representative members of the councils of Izhevskia in the Political Bureau of the Izhevskian Proletarian Revolutionary Party have declared a negative of the referendum to declare war on Alleana. The Head of the Supreme Council, Lev Ulyanov, made clear today his statement.

"Our alliance, as always, is with the proletariat and against the bourgeoisie. However, it is not to bloodshed, and we declare war not against the exploiters of Allanea but for the workers of Allanea. A concentrated and large military intervention in Alleana will not, at this time, occur."

The Police Chief of Progressi City looked sternly towards the train depots. Though the labor dispute has concluded – by and large – there were still many people within. And further, there was the rumor – confirmed by several workers that had left the location – that foreign special operations forces were there within the train station. This made the situation much more difficult – but it still had to be resolved. He turned to the representatives of the corporations and spoke simple:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation here. It is likely that great damage will be incurred to your depots. Tell me, are your trains and so forth insured against terrorist activity?"

"Yes…" – gasped one of the corporate representatives. The others just nodded in shock, as it dawned on them what was about to take place.

"Very well. I have the all-clear from the state governor. It is time." – he raised the cellphone to his ear.

"Mike? We're an hour past the deadline. Now. "

Twelve kilometers away from the station, five ancient D-30 cannon fired at once. However, their crews were not professional artillerymen, but rather civilians – and lawyers do not good artillerymen make. One of the 122mm shells landed at the square center of the depot – and this being an open-air depot, it harmed nobody. Another blasted through the roof of the terminal and failed to explode, as the man who fed it set the fuze wrong. Two more tore apart the entrance of the passenger terminal, but killed nobody. Only a single man was injured – a depot worker who for some reason decided to stay with the resistance fighters. He, too, was not hit by shrapnel from the shell, but rather glass from a collapsing stained glass window.

And then, seconds later, the fifth and final shell arrived.

It was magnificent.

The shell impacted upon the front car of a fuel supply train – and it took off like a Christmas tree. The air was filled with the roar of the flames, and the screams of the dying and the wounded as burning gasoline enveloped their flesh and seeped into their very lungs.

"Damn." – the Taggart Trains representative breathed out as he saw a plume of smoke and fire rise above the open-air depot. "Now what?"

"That, ladies and gentlemen, was a warning shot. And… it's never a good idea to try and barricade an open-air facility. Look!"

There was the dry, whip-like cracking of rifles as police snipers and Taggart Trains Counter-Terrorist operatives started taking shots at those men who were visible from outside the depot.

"Of course, they don't yet know that Mike can hit them five times per minute with those cannon. "

Just as he said that, the shells impacted again. Two blew up in the square before the passenger terminal, doing nobody particular harm – except the façade of the terminal, but that was a wreck already. One overturned a refrigerator train car, crushing an ARA man under it. And two more impacted the very roof of the passenger terminal.

Something must have snagged a support column, for the building began to cave in with a terrible, earsplitting sound, as the remaining columns began to snap.

"Yes! Yes! GO MIKE GO!" – screamed the Police Chief, waving his hands and pelvic-thrusting. "Tell all your security people, we must prepare for an assault – say, after five minutes of shelling. In the meanwhile, everybody must keep under cover and out of line of sight. And call SWAT units. And the Air Police. I want these people crushed utterly.

"Hell!" Shouted Mavis as he ripped a piece of sharpnel from his wound before watching it heal. "Do you think the submarine can luanch those missiles?"

"Ray, get on the radio and tell them we need a missile fired at those artillery positions!" shouted Mavax.

Jackson was already busy with picking off the counter-snipers while trying to stay hidden. The job was easy for him as the police and SWAT Sniper's were like amatuers compared to him.

"Hey," shouted Jackson. "Can we get bloody air support?"

Mavis looked out a window and fired a few rounds on an advancing column of policemen attempting to get inside the depot. With rounds handed out and weapons manned, Mavax was already preparing a 'welcoming' to the police men. With his four tentacles fully grown and his eyes watching the ground below him, it would be a matter of minutes before he was unleshed.

Submarine Xson

"Fire two cruise missile's at these positions," ordered the captain. "Send word back to base we might need the armada soon,"

The operator's went to battle station as two cruise missile's were luanched from the submarine.

Sam Tyler rolled under the nearest cover he could find, which happened to be the soapbox. Thinking back to his wartime experiences, he knew that closing with the enemy denied them the use of artillery - a tactic that had proven highly effective against the Doomani. However, closing with a vastly superior force was nothing short of suicide.

The Allaneans had to have a superior force, or else they would be unable to surround the barricade. A breakout would have to be attempted if there was to be any chance of avoiding a bullet or life in an Allanean prison. Sam called in his most commanding voice for all comrades still able to fight to attempt a breakout.

The Kahanistanian volunteers still there, and anyone else willing, he had count off ones and twos. The ones would lay down suppressive fire while the twos charged, and switch until they clashed to attempt a breakout...

Allanean Missile Defense Command

ALERT! ALERT ALERT INBOUND GUIDED MISSILES, FIVE MINUTES TO IMPACT, POSSIBLE NUCLEAR ASSAULT ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT…

There was not enough time, nor were the cruise missiles high enough to affect most of the ordinary anti-ballistic defenses that Allanea affected. And the chance was great that this was a nuclear attack by an unknown nation.

The solution was simple, in fact. A single Allanean ABM submarine fired a couple of Super-Spartan missiles at the inbound Lynionan rockets, planed to intercept them two miles off-shore.

Naturally, the missiles would not establish direct hits. Instead, they would unleash their own weapons – 150-kiloton anti-missile warheads, designed to take out enemy ballistic missiles without direct intercept.

All that people in Progressi-City would see of those missiles would be bright flashes, far beyond the horizon.

Progressi-City

"God damn them all! They're taking our snipers down! Godless communist vermin! Pull back the snipers! Pull back!"

The snipers pulled slowly away – just as the Kahanistani began their last, doomed counteroffensive.

Which was exactly when the Police Chief made his decision.

"Oh screw this shit. Hit them."

At a range of about a kilometer from the depot, dozens of police mortars and light grenade launchers kicked into action. Their shells did not explode – they merely fell upon the ground, hissing gently as they unleashed a strange gray smoke.

Within minutes, hundreds of ARA men were on the ground, taken by surprise by standard-issue police sleep gas. A minority still managed to put on gas mask – and resisted.

Which was when real hell was unleashed - police armored vehicles drew close to the station once more, raking the Kahanistani who were trying to escape with automatic fire from the mounted 20mm autocannon and heavy machineguns. Pacing nearby were riot police and Taggart Train security.

"Oy-voy-va-voy! Fuck fuck FUCK!!!" Sam yelled as a 20mm shell narrowly missed his steel plate and blood and brain matter splattered on him from a less fortunate protestor. He'd lost two-thirds of his people attacking the Allanean position, and was crouched behind a damaged piece of machinery.

He sighted through the barrel of his G100 assault rifle, aiming to take out one of those Allanean bastards. Part of him realised he was not dealing with the Doomani - surrendering might not get him tortured to death. The other part of him knew that the Allaneans were pretty unpredictable... rumours of the barbarities Kazansky had committed when a few officers insulted the Queen scared the living hell out of him.

It was then that he realised he was probably going to die here...

The shells were never going to be a problem for Izhevskian Spec-Ops. They all wore gas masks as standard gear, And their high explosive mortar shells were hitting right on target. Now the leader sent a single squad to take out and destroy police coordination. These were the finest twelve men he had on hand- elite Izhevskian killers, cold-blooded soldiers. When they established an objective, you could be sure it was met.

The city being in absolute lockdown presented no problem at all to them. Using their silenced AK-74Us and Vintorez, they took out three police car. They immediately changed into the police uniforms and hid their weapons in the trunk of the car, leaving each one armed with a Stechkin APS- Fully automatic compact pistols. They were about to take the battle to a different front.

The police cars, sirens wailing, entered the police station lot. No communication was necessary, they had all agreed earlier on the plan. Pretending to chase a terrorist, 10 men would circle the building. The last two would run in requesting backup. On of the men outside would plant a mine at each exit, another would cut all communication and electrical wires. They did this in under a minute.

"Sir! Requesting backup! They've avoided our shells at the depot and are making an advance two blocks further! They've jammed our communication so this was the only way we could contact you!" His Allanean accent was perfect.
"Damn it! Alright, go speak to the chief in room 32. I'm giving you special permission to contact him." Breathing heavily, the "policeman" sprinted off toward the room.

He burst into the door. Without a sound, his Silenced Stechkin fired. He left the room and took off the silencer. He opened the Chief's window, a sign that he was ready to begin the assault.

OOC: Allanean police don't have uniforms, outside zOMG SWAT units.

IC:

The Suburban Constitutional Militia took heavy casualties, too. Their training was insufficient to deal with Kahanistani who had served in an actual military, and where steel met steel, suddenly it turned the Krav Maga classes they took in high school were insufficient as compared to those of real troops. Their line broke, and many of them ran. Many were killed on the spot. But then the Kahanistani would encounter the actual Allanean mercenaries.

In the station, however, fighting was breaking out. Most cops were out on the scene – and so was the police chief himself. Even the "paper pusher" type cops were mostly diverted to help surround the giant depot. The few who were left were promptly being exterminated by the special operations troops. But given the fact everybody – literally everybody – was armed, at least some of them would get to fire off their standard-issue police .44 revolvers before going down. And with about 15 cops still in the station, at least some of the Izhevskian special operations troops would go down.

More importantly, people outside would begin to hear the shots.

Five cops were killed, trying to leave the building in horror – and setting off several landmines. One had his leg blown off and bled to death. But the problem was, citizens passing by had understood something was amiss – and at least some have stopped, targeting strange shapes within with their rifles and shotguns. So far, however, they fired no shots – given they had issues determining who were the police, and who were the attackers.

OOC: I'll join in this once this(the Metropolitan battle) is over and it becomes publicized. Oh and how many troops does Izhevskia have smuggled in the country currently, and how many police from Allanea? That and who owns those landmines?

OOC - this is good, i want in. For gods sake, call for help Allena! A foreign power may have tried to nuke you for gods sake.

Oh and how many troops does Izhevskia have smuggled in the country currently, and how many police from Allanea? That and who owns those landmines?

315-casualties taken.
And lol, there's like four landmines, more really of Claymores.

The fans on the Tu-95 Bears started spinning, and into the air lifted hundreds of tons of bombs, bullets, and guns. The Bear was going to make a flyover of Allanea and drop weapons onto the streets. It was a risky move- but the three bombers were escorted by numerous Su-47s. The Allanean workers needed a morale boost badly- and friendly aircraft making runs overhead would be just what they needed.

-------------

Izhevskian Spec-Ops had taken, out of 327 soldiers, just 13 losses at the depot and 2 at the police station. The soldiers regrouped at a civilian rally point they had captured earlier and began setting up a well armed safehouse. Weapons smuggling into the city was very hard- but they managed to arm the house with Heavy machinge guns, anti-tank and anti-air missiles, and a shitload of lead.

Comrade Ivan Zhyulenkov cleaned out his Dragunov- a rare sight with Izhevskian weapons. But in times like these, he wasn't taking any chances. After setting up his perch he helped out planting the plasticized TATP in major areas of the house in case of a raid. TATP was his favorite- it was easy to make, incredibly sensitive, and very versatile. He finished setting the charges and went into the basement to lay one of four detonators. Again, he was taking no chances. Just then, another shot rang out...

[a separate spin-off thread will be made. Any issues not adressed will be adressed there]

Aboard Allanean Air Force Bomber Fannie-Six

“Fannie Six,you are clear to fire. Foreign troops have been detected at the area of Square 16 and Square 14b, your mission is to deal with Square 16.”

The bomber – a gigantic B-22 Zeus – lowered altitude to an exact nine kilometers. From here, it was obviously immune to attacks from enemy SAMs – but was still clear to deal with the 'problem' of the depot.

Now that foreign troops have been spotted at the depot, it was no longer a mere criminal or terrorist situation. It was a foreign invasion. And it would be dealt with accordingly.

The bomb bays opened, and suddenly, 1500 tiny 110-kilogram bombs were dropped all at once.

They could not have been dropped with any accuracy, but there was no need. The bombs rained down upon the depot with terrible density. Suddenly, shrapnel was everywhere, decimating the ARA.

Minutes later, another bomber passed by, and another, and another. Between them, they dispensed 100 kilograms of explosives for every person still alive in the depot.

Police Station

Even as the citizens of Progressi-City focused fire upon the station, two Allanean Air Force craft appeared. They were helicopters – UCAV attack helicopters, the famed Soulharvesters. They flew over the station, firing ATGMs into the windows. Once, twice, thrice, until they ran out of missiles – and the building slowly began to cave.

Attention Izhevskia (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13747321)

As the Assassin's jumped down and took cover in a ruined building, as the bombers flew overhead. Mavax pulled a policeman towards him and ripped him apart from limb to limb.

"The cruise missile's must've failed for some reason," shouted Mavis. "For heaven's sake, take out those dam coppers!"

The bombers had passed over and the Lynion's had lost three out of the 12 man squads. Jackson was picking off policemen as Mavax got into the thick of the battle. He had somehow over powered the front line ranks and now was in the middle of them.

The time had come to advance and bring the fight to the policemen and SWAT Teams. The Lynion's were creating havoic as they drew out their swords and rushed the policemen. As Mavax was ripping them apart with his tentacles and swords, the rest were giving cover as the last of the snipers were picked off by Jackson.

Mavis pulled who seem to be a leader and asked him:

"Are we going to need more support?"

“Jesus Christ would you look at that thing?! FUCK! FUCK!”

The Allanean cops' reaction to the tentacled beings was universal. They retreated, slowly, firing their weapons at the strange 'monsters'. The idea was simple – move away, while firing your gun at the enemy so he can't get into sword range. Moreover, the 20mm cannon were soon turned towards the strange beings. “Damn it! Someone call Supernatural Enforcement! We've got a situation here!”

* * *

The Allanean socialists and ARA fighters had been almost broken by the bombings. They began to realize that the situation was now helpless for them. Only one thing remained – to go down fighting. As the Lynionans watched, they saw an ARA fighter shove the barrel end of an anti-tank launcher into the driver hatch of a police vehicle and fire, going up in a fountain of smoke and fire with his target.

Another man – one of the leaders of the ARA holdouts – responded to Lynionan with histerical laughter.

“Support? SUPPORT?!” - he aimed his Glock-17 at the advancing police and started firing, watching three men fall. Then he ate his front sight and pulled the trigger.

"If you're so serious about freedom then answer me this: Do we need support?" shouted Mavis. "If we do, I can get the armada down here, infantry, armour and air squadrons if you need more support,"

With the police falling like filies as the Lynion's lay down supporting fire and the ones already on the ground breaking through, Mavis was wondering how much more support these people had.



-----------------

Mavax has had enough with playing with his victims. He pulled out two Hell Forged Swords with his tentacles and a high powered automatic assault rifle. He blasted the ranks apart as his mutataion enhanced his abilities.

OOC: You are talking to man who just committed suicide.

OOC: just pretend it's another guy.

Many of the Allanean police retreated - but that was only to bring heavier weapons. 40mm revolving action grenade launchers, MK-19's and .50-cal machineguns were now focused on the area by the dozen. The rebels were dropping like flies.

The ARA officer screamed over the gunfire: "You are a fool! By the time your warship gets here, we'll all be dead! We're all dead already! God-damn it! All we can do is die like men!"

"Emergency Protocol 36," said Mavis into the radio.

"Inbound fighters 2 minutes!" shouted Jackson as he picked off another policeman trying to advance.

The fighting was becoming more and more dense as the Lynion's were forcing the coppers further back. Until suddenly they retreated back into the depot. The fighting was becoming more and more dense with the rebels falling like flies. The battle seem pointless and unless they didn't get support soon, they were going to be stuffed.

OOC: How does this jet bypass my navy, my air force, and my AA defenses?

Observe the map of Hash. You are in Progressi City.

Perhaps radio would be a better form of comms?

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v42/allanea/Maps/HashMgweni.jpg

OOC:

Sorry. I changed the post so we can contiune but where will the major air force and naval shipyards be?

OOC: Put it this way, it's not likely it's going to get through. There are major airbases near all big cities, there are ships patrolling the shoreline, and there's way too much AA for anybody's good.

IC:

Several hundred kilometers away

Even as the Lynionan fighter approached the Allanean waters, it passed by a Taniat air defense cruiser of the Allanean navy. The cruiser was already on high alert, and so it simply fired two dozen long-range missiles at it. That would be it, hopefully.

Elsewhere, the Allanean police were moving out of the depot – but only because the government was getting seriously tired of dealing with the rebellion. And because fifteen minutes later, five B-22 bombers passed overhead, dropping full payloads of bombs on the remaining area of the depot.

When they passed, the ARA resistance was finally broken. Most of them were dead, and the few surviving non-ARA Allaneans were doing the completely un-Allanean thing and surrendering to the police.

Not any more than 1,000 Allanean resistance men were alive, and there was precious few cover – and no depot for them to hold.

"Radio back to the fleet, we're bugging out!" ordered Mavis.

The Lynion Assassin's banded together as they picked up the last of the ammo and left the depot by the back door.

"Belay that order," started Andrew. "We're bugging out. Repeat! We're bugging out!"

The Lynion's had started the long treck through the ruined depot with the loss of four men. They were going to head to the nearest beach and pray to the heavens that they could somehow get the blazes out of Allanea.


OOC: Fair enough. Let's say they haven't luanched one yet.

While the majority of the volunteers had not served in combat, many had had basic training. Even so, only a dozen or so were left alive, many getting careless or overconfident. Sam was the only one who had served as a combat officer, and he was nearly out of ammo, missing an arm from a shrapnel blast, had burns over 40% of his body, and was damned afraid about what he had gotten himself into. He'd expected a rough showdown, maybe some potshots and negotiations, but nothing like the massacre this was becoming.

"G-Dash-D dammit!" he shouted, marveling at the stupidity it took to fire an ATGM at such close quarters. "Take cover!"

He was glad the ARA people weren't his soldiers. On the other hand, if they were on his side, he was the best candidate for Supreme Allied Commander. He hoped they'd listen to him...

It was over. The Allanean Army cordoned off the depot, and began to search for bodies. They already knew that foreign troops were involved, and it would be now only a matter of time until they were found.

Those workers who surrendered early got their pay raises, and the Union got sued for damages. The people of Kirillgrad, who caused the whole thing, benefited the most – they weren't sued, or shot at, and the college students over there sold off the Izhevskian weapons and lived happily ever after.

THE END

OOC: Brilliant writing, as always, Allanea. Demented Schooling's better, though. Mostly because there wasn't all this nonsense from newbies.

IC:

Anders Monroe closed his notebook and clipped off his video camera, satisfied. Soon, the last trace of the video feed would slip off through the satellite network, sold for Coppers to news networks across Haven, the Pacific, NationStates. News of the Battle of Progressi Terminal would reach the world by teatime, and the story Anders Monroe was writing up would be in newspapers all over.

Anders, with no major injuries from the fighting against the monstrosities in the terminal, walked off. The next day, as his story was published across the world, he was on a ship, far from the acursed terminal, making his way to Kingston. Soon, the Hash would just be another badge on his campaigning history, and a source of decent income.