NationStates Jolt Archive

‘Micro-Warrior’ was a virus being made in Ursava’s military research wing. It was designed to kill anybody that it came in contact with, making it’s way through any exposed skin, one’s eyes, ears, the mouth, or nose; and killing them. They would suffer as they died with blood coming from their nasal passages and mouths. That was only on direct contact however, it could be simply used in blanketing an area and killing off a large mass of people. It was programmed to burn out in about a day, giving the using force enough time to move and secure the perimeter of the area and move in once the virus had faded.

It’s main development site: Black Mountain Research Facility, a facility on the mountain of the same name in northern Ursava.


Black Mountain Research Facility

Several bodies decorated the tan tiles of the main hall that led to the lobby of the facility. The door from the outside was blasted inward and a team of six men dressed in black combat gear with ski-masks made their way to the second door. They had easy-to-buy weapons, ones that you could find with no problem on the international Black Market. They had a compilation of a couple of Uzis, an RPK, and several AK-74s. They weren’t the best armed but they obviously knew what they were doing as they made their way through the already opened second set of doors were they came out in to an uncomfortable, small lobby. There were two doors, one of which was an elevator. The team split in to threes, three taking the elevator and three taking the other door. The elevator was taken to the level B4, the lowest basement, and the second door led to a second hallway with doors on either side. The teams went their respective ways, objective unstated but known to anybody who had been watching a security camera.


One Hour Later

The sealed off room had a large, bullet-proof window for anybody to observe what was inside. It had a heavy security door that had been locked from the side containing what was now twelve men like those who had raided the base. Two wheeled carts, each holding six containers that were all approximately four feet tall, rested near the window. They had skulls in yellow triangles stamped on the side of each of them with, in blocky writing: MWVS Trial Variant below said symbols.

On the other side of the room was three desks, several filecabinets, a standing bookshelf, and a bookshelf that had fallen over. There was a corpse that was partially under the bookcase, blood coming from his nose and mouth. A young woman was slumped over one of the desks with her blood dripping over the edge. A third man was coughing and wheezing as a door across from the window opened up, light cutting in to the much darker room. A man in a light tan vest and khakis came walking up, pushing up a pair of aviator sunglasses with one hand and then rubbing his other hand through his thinning, gray hair moments after. He walked up to the man nearest the window.

“How’s the test doing.” The unarmed man with sunglasses and gray hair asked.

“Good, that man is the last one standing and it’s only been twenty minutes.” The man replied.

“Very good. I want this on the helicopter in the next fifteen minutes.” The unarmed man said.

“Yes sir.” The man replied again, placing a fist over his heart.

The unarmed man returned the gesture and then headed for the door while the two carts were attended two and were soon wheeling after him through all the hallways of the research facility and towards the nearest elevator. There they would get on two waiting Hind-Ds and fly to only God knew where.




An Official Declaration of the Ursavian Government to the World

We, the people of Ursava, have reached our breaking-point with these ‘Monarchists’.

After killing several of our employees and stealing a copy of our own weapons we declare a request for aid from other countries. As of this moment a manhunt has been declared on any and all members of the Monarchists, dead or alive. Any and all aid from either independent or national sources will not be denied. The Monarchists will be wiped from the face of the Earth and we will make sure they never come back. This is not based on a biased opinion of monarchy, or an attempt at repressing freedom of speech but the Monarchists have gone too far. As of this day, they will die.

- President Zigana Saáry of Ursava.

14.00
The Imperial Court


"Your Highness, the situation in Ursava is totally unacceptable. The 'terrorist actions' are nothing but an excuse for President Saáry to exterminate all who share our political beliefs in Ursava. It is genocide, and it most be denounced as such. We have to intervene. For God's sake, we can't let fellow monarchists suffer under a man who's worse than Cato!"
The angry nobleman's words made the audience mutter in agreement. Comparing someone to the former Zaheranian president was a grave insult, but no one in the Council Chamber had any warmer fellings for the Ursavan president.
"Thank you, Count Tresckow." The Emperor's voice was perfectly calm, revealing no emotions. "I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to assist our brothers in Ursava. I am, like you, most displeased with the current situation. Support will be given, be sure of that. But we will not, I repeat not, resort to violence. We will never wage war against any nation solely because of that nation's politics." He looked around. "If there are no more speakers, I hereby dismiss this session of the Imperial Court. May the Gods watch us and preserve us."

Two hours later
The Imperial Palace


"So what should be done?", the Emperor asked. He sat in a comfortable couch in a small, windowless room in the west wing of the vast palace. Despite it's humbleness, this was where most of the important decisions were taken. "Speak freely, my friends, nothing said here will ever leave this room."
The was a moment of silence before the Minister of State Security raised his voice. "Our monarchist friends will need weapons and money, but first we must establish a secure contact with them. By pure chance, we have one of our 'agents' down there. Do you want me to use it?"
"Do so", the Emperor said, thoughtfully looking down into his wine glass. "I'll issue a official proclamation in the mean time, stating our displeasure with the Ursavan government's actions. If we can solve this politically, then it's better to do so. I don't want a war on my hands."


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The Holy Empire of Zaheran
Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Official Proclamation



His Majesty's government is most displeased by the actions taken by the Ursavan government. We have reason to believe that the recent 'terrorist attacks' have been arranged by the Ursavan government, and that they are nothing more than an excuse for president Saáry to eliminate her political opponents. We warn president Saáry and the Ursavan government that Zaheran will not accept this genocide on political dissidents. The time when a government could exterminate a peaceful political movement undisturbed are long since over. Unless these pogroms cease, Ursava will face dire consequences. If necessary, we will not hesitate to take action to protect the oppressed minority known as the monarchists from president Saáry's attempted holocast. Henceforth, we will give all Ursavan monarchists the status of political refugees if they wish to escape to Zaheran.

In the Empire's service,

Dieter I Antonius
Emperor of Zaheran

OOC: Saáry's a girl.


An Official of the Ursavian Government

It has come to the attention of those in the governmental system that the monarchy of Zaheran believes the airplane jacking, the attempted use of a FROG-7 against Ursavian officials, and now the murder of several Ursavian researchers coupled with their forced procurement of a top-secret military weapon were set up by the government itself.

To this we would like to ask the king of Zaheran one question: why would we kill dozens of our own scientists and civilians?

This is simply a pure act of terrorism. We also remind Zaheran that we are a diplomatic country that holds any and all political views as official. We would also like to state the Monarchy is the third most popular suggestion (out of the top 4) for government according to a poll held two years ago with the list as follows:


Democracy

Theocracy

Monarchy

Communism


Any attempts made against Ursavian officials or that of other countries to stop this fringe-group will be considered as an act of war and will be reacted against appropriately.



The Streets of Green Sea, Ursava

Green Sea, once called the jewel of all of Ursava's port cities. During the "40 Day War" it was procured as a main base for "The Peoples' Rebels" and they held it from the hand's of Odon Pete's men. They were interested in getting funding the whole time however so they let drug dealers and other scum in to the city who would give them some of the profit. Then when Saáry was put in to a majority-voted democratic office, "The Peoples' Rebels" refused to give up the city. Thus, the weakened military went in and had cleared them out which then ruined the city even more.

Now it was brimming with three types of people: druggies, scum, and scums who had guns. Gangs were still a problem and the whole city was pretty poorly maintained so a dirt, old dark blue van wasn't noticed. Besides that, the two members of the Black Guard inside who were monitoring a hotel's phone lines in an attempt to find at least somebody of decent importants to the Monarchists.

OOC: Noted. That name is quite gender neutral.

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The Holy Empire of Zaheran
Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Diplomatic Communique



We would like to remind the Uravan government that we have yet to see independent evidence of a) that the so-called 'terrorist attacks' have ever happened, b) that the monarchists are responsible. Until such evidence has been presented, we will remain suspicious to the motives behind the oppression of political dissidents. Further, we find it pitiful that Ursavan government officials resort to threats to prevent other nations from investigating their sordid business.

In the Empire's service,

Dieter I Antonius
Emperor of Zaheran



Outside Ursavan territorial waters

The Mermaid looked like a harmless fishing vessel, a small, rusty trawler of the type that a sizable part of the Zaheranian fishing fleet constituted of. In reality, the crew was more interested in gathering intelligence than fishing, and the vessel had been bought and equipped by the Zaheranian government. It's mission was to gather military intelligence on the coast defences of nations viewed as 'problematic'. Ursava was usually a low-priority 'target', so the message that came throught NAVINT system surprised the captain. Meeting up with another trawler to take aboard a cargo of electronics and a passenger? With a shrug he turned the ship around and programmed the coordinates into the computer system.

A few hours later

The Mermaid's captain was more perplexed than ever. All his fancy electronic equipment had been removed and his cargo hold filled with TVs, radios, video game consoles, computers and other electronics, mostly Alfegan stuff. The mystic passenger hadn't even bothered to answer his greeting. The man was hiding in his cabin, suspiciously guarding his little attache case. They had been ordered to head to Green Sea, a Ursavan port city, and act like smugglers. The captain shook his head as he tapped the keyboard of the navigation system. What was going on?

OOC: That better not be the Ursavian Monarchist rebel leader. If it is, I control him. Anyways, both those things that I mentioned happened in one thread and this.


Coastal Guardsmen walked along the piers and their boats patrolled the waters as the old fishing trauler appeared on the coast-line. During this time the two members of the Black Guard were picking up a very interesting message from the phone lines of the old hotel building while they waited in the van.

"Is he arriving." Came one voice.

"He was picked up by the scheduled ship." Said another.

"Good, let's hope he gets the case here." The first voice said.

OOC: Hell no, I know basic forum etiquette. It's one of my guys. Should I assume that the 'voices' got it wrong and are picking up the wrong man?

His name was Marcus Wolf. That was everything he knew about himself. Well, that was not exactly the thruth. He knew that he was 1.82 meters long, weighted 76 kilos, had gray eyes and black hair, and a face most women found handsome. But that was just physical. He knew nothing about who he really was, what sort of man he had once been. After the awakening in the white, windowless room, two years ago, they had told him that he had been a homeless bum, and that they had found him laying in a container with a knife in his back. The last part was true, he still had a scar, but he doubted the rest. That expression in the doctor's eyes...but it didn't matter, he had filled the emptiness with blind nationalism, replaced what love he might have lost with loyalty to his country and his Emperor. He could see how pathetic it was, but it didn't matter. All he had in life was his loyalty and his work. And his work was what had bringed him here, to this lawless, he had heard, city in a country he had never heard about. But that didn't matter, either. His agency had sent him here, so his country needed him to be here. It wasn't his nature to ask questions. Or was it? He didn't know. But the thought kept him amused for a moment as he stood on the deck of the Mermaid, watching Green Sea come closer and closer. Another city, another mission to complete.

The electronics in the cargo hold had been covered by a layer of fish. It was probably not enough to trick the authorities, but that wasn't the intention either. The crew's mission was to behave like smugglers, a role played to hide their real activities. And if they needed to bribe some inquisitive official, well that was part of the cover. The captain smiled. The electronics might even get them a nice little profit when they sold them.

OOC: No, they're not talking about your man.


The Coastal Guardsmen watched as a slightly smaller ship passed the fishing trauler and came in. One of the Coastal Guardsmen was flashed an official passport and nodded the men through the giant gate capable of sealing off the docks and they moved on towards the town. Then as the fishing trauler approached they would see a large, cement walkway with a giant gate and men with black shirts, khaki pants, and orange vests with yellow reflective tape watching their every move. The Ursavians weren't going to trust any foreign ship too easily. As if to emphasize this the gate was closed and they waited for the large ship to approach.

Meanwhile, the same man from the Black Mountain research facility, now in a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans with tennis shoes stepped out of the slightly smaller boat and headed on to the streets of Green Sea as the colored water it was named after lapped at the docks.

The captain stepped onto the deck, waving to the Coast Guards. "Good afternoon!", he shouted through a megaphone. "This is MS Mermaid, property of the Red Sea Fishing Corporations. We are here to resupply and have an ill crewman onboard. May we be allowed to pass?"

"How ill is he?" Came the reply of one of the Coastal Guardsman with a megaphone himself.

As he spoke a man in a nearby guard-tower watched through a set of high-powered binoculars at the ship. He was scanning for any suspicious people or activities going on. Meanwhile a team of four men dressed in light combat gear and kevlar helmets with Dragonskin vests approached a set of steps that led down to a small platform which was currently resting beside the Mermaid.

"I hope you don't mind, but we'll have to search your ship." The Coastal Guardsman with the megaphone added.

"He's not dying", the captain replied, "but we would like a doctor to take a look at him. We have former Medical Corpsman onboard, but his expertise is in cuts and bullet wounds, I'm afraid. You are welcome to search the ship. We have nothing to hide."

Upon that invitation the men moved from the top of the stairs to the cement platform and then hopped on to the top deck of the ship. One man moved in to the bridge while the other three moved below deck, starting to search the rooms. This would be search one of two, the second being once they had docked. They would "play it safe" whenever it came to foreigners. The man approached the first door and a man swung it open while the other two searched other rooms and the man uptop searched every nook and cranny of the bridge for the time being.

When the Ursavan Coast Guards reached the cargo hold, at first sight it would seem that it was full of fish, mostly tuna. If they digged deeper, they would notice the other equipment hidden beneath: TVs, radios, and other electronics. The captain had his 'bribe money' ready, but would he have to use it?"

The man in the bridge, obviously the commander given the fact that he had stayed above-deck with the captain, grabbed his radio as a voice came over in Russian. He brought it to the ears, unsure if the captain could listen in on what was happening.

"Sir, we've found something down here...it looks like a bunch of electronics equipment. It was stashed under all the tuna." Came the voice of one of the soldiers.

"Rodger that, soldier; have the others find the sick man and round up the crew on the top-deck." The Ursavian Coastal Guardman said.

As he finished he hooked his radio to his vest and then aimed his Steyr carbine off his hip at the captain with a casual look on his face as he proceeded to speak in Zaheran to him, making him at least a little relaxed subconsciously...it at all.

"Well captain, would you mind putting your hands above your head?" He asked retorically, implying it was a demand as he moved between the platform to shore and the captain while more Costal Guardsmen drew beads on the ship.

As this happened, a reserved sniper took aim from a guardtower at the captain. They didn't take guns being pointed lightly and they knew of the Guardsman raised his gun it was for a good reason.

The captain sighed and held his hands in the air. "Is this really necessary, commander?", he said, casually tapping his foot against the floor. Three long, three short, three long. He hoped the passenger in the cabin below would understand the signal. "I can assure you, I'm a completely honourable businessman. This must have been a...misunderstanding. I'm sure we can reach an agreement." He hoped the Coast Guardsman would be bribeable. Otherwise, he was in some serious trouble.

Marcus was laying on his bunk, reading through one of the cheap detective novels he had taken a liking to lately. The faint sound of the SOS signal reached him through the roof. He recognised it instantly. So, something had gone wrong. Time for Plan B. He got down on his knees and crawled under the bed. It was good that the previous owners of the boat had been real smugglers. They had left such lovely little hiding places all over the boat. And they had been clever in the way they had hidden them, too. They keyhole was disguised as a screw, and he had never found it if he hadn't known what he was looking for. A slight turning of the key and the trapdoor opened, revealing the hidden space beneath. Marcus smiled as he threw his few belongings into the hole. Who had said that criminals were stupid? He took a minute to look around the room. Nothing was left behind. The door was locked. If asked, the captain would say that the room was reserved for passengers, but that it was currently unoccupied. Marcus lowered himself into the hidden cargo hold, locking the trapdoor from the inside. Now he only had to wait.

"Don't play games with me Captain." The Coastal Guardsman commander said.

As he said this the other men began opening doors and soon the crew was being rushed up to the top deck. Then one of the men came across a locked door. He jiggled it just to be sure, took a few steps back, and then delivered a solid boot to the lock. The door came flying in and it revealed...an empty room. The soldier slowly stepped inside, unknowingly right on the trap-door.

"I'm not playing games with you, commander", the captain said with a sincere voice. "But releasing me and my men could result in some...economic benefits for your part. Think about it."

The trapdoor didn't give way. It was a masterpiece of smuggler art, designed with the sole purpose of tricking Coast Guards and Customs officials. The inside of the hidden space was padded with pillows and matresses, so no hollow sound revealed that there was something other than steel under the soldiers feet.