NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This thread is part-humanitarian (i.e., the rescue of still-trapped workers, cleanup, anthrax treatment), part political, and part police action. I need someone to be the main foreign sponsor of the Fascist Party of Leistung (TG me first), though realize that by doing so, you're condemning yourself to a world of hurt should the government ever find out. If no one volunteers, I'll just make up a foreign nation to be their sponsor. Either way, my entire intelligence agency and national police force will be working to find the perpetrators, so if anyone wants to help in that respect, feel free.

7:32 AM, Schaeffer Avenue
Hauptstadt, Leistung

It was a quiet day in downtown Hauptstadt, all things considered. The Christmas decorations had been up long enough so that the people barely noticed them anymore, and a thin layer of snow covered the smallest lights, obscuring them from view. The morning sunlight glistened off the white sheet which had been laid over Hauptstadt the previous night, and had the city not been in the thick of rush hour, it probably would have been considered a serene, almost picturesque morning.

As traffic ground to a stop in front of an intersection, a deep red van stopped as well. Had the morning not been so hectic, someone might have noticed that the van had no license plates and no identification sticker in the front window. Someone might also have noticed that the man in the front seat turned his head once every few seconds, as if he was expecting someone to walk up to the driver-seat window any minute. The man picked up his cell phone and pressed the #1 button, speed-dialing a number that only he had. The voice on the other line was deep and powerful, and spoke in rapid-fire French.

“Axe, code in,” the disembodied voice over the phone said, waiting for the codeword. The driver of the van responded in a jittery voice.

“Hammer. I’m thirty seconds out, Axe, running hot.”

“Anvil is already in position, Hammer, and Screwdriver is twenty out. Proceed on current course.” The man on the other side of the phone hung up abruptly, leaving Hammer, the driver of the van, all alone in a city of millions.

Hammer glanced back towards the rear of the van and ran his eyes over the contents of the trunk, sighing gently. He shifted into gear as the light turned green and rolled the van slowly forward, inching it through traffic towards a gigantic, mostly glass building which stretched high into the sky. Taking a sharp right turn, he drove the van into the parking level, stopping at the gate.

“Four bundesmarks, sir,” an automated voice said, coming from a box-shaped terminal on the driver’s side. He slipped his transit card into a slot, waiting with baited breath as the Hauptstadt Transit Authority processed his request, taking four bundesmarks off of the pre-paid card and spitting it back out a few moments later. The gate opened and the spikes dug into the cement floor lowered.

The maroon van slipped into the garage and parked next to the far right wall; a moldy, aging, bulky concrete structure. Hammer opened the door and stepped out, walking nonchalantly towards the exit of the garage. With one last glance back at the van, he stepped through the sliding elevator doors and watched as they closed, sealing himself off from the garage.

Hammer stepped out of the elevator into the office lobby, avoiding anyone’s gaze as he made his way out towards the front doors. With long strides he walked out into the freezing air, lifting up the collar of his coat to insulate himself. Two little boys brushed against him, laughing and joking with each other. The two were running briskly towards the doors of the building Hammer had just left from, their mother following close behind, calling out in an exasperated voice for the two children to come back. The three slipped into the sliding doors and were out of sight.

Hammer picked up his cell phone again and pressed the #1 button. “Axe? This is Hammer,” he said.

“Go on Axe.”

“Axe, the package is in position. I need five minutes to reach line alpha, alright?” His voice was still jittery, but it had taken on a firmer tone, as if he had been emboldened by leaving the van. A police officer wearing a black ushanka brushed up against him as he began to walk faster and faster away from the gigantic skyscraper, still on his phone. The police officer tapped his partner on the shoulder, pointing at Hammer suspiciously.

“Oh God…Axe, I think I’ve been compromised,” he whispered frantically into the phone.

“Stay calm, damn it!” the voice on the other end of the phone demanded. “Hang up the phone, now!” Hammer complied, dropping the phone and stepping on it, smashing its contents against the snowy concrete sidewalk.

“You there! Stop where you are!” one of the police officers yelled, running to try to catch up with Hammer, who had begun to run. The officer’s partner had pulled out his radio and was now speaking into it. Hammer glanced behind him to see the officer shoving his way through the thick crowd, growing closer.

A black car stopped abruptly in front of him, and the back door opened. A man sitting in the back seat motioned frantically.

“Get in the bloody car, you idiot!” he yelled, grabbing Hammer’s arm and pulling him into the back seat. The car sped away before he was fully in the back seat, and the man in the passenger seat looked back, furious.

“How could you let that happen?” he demanded, pointing towards the two police officers as the car sped away. Both of them were speaking into their radios, but the car was plate-less, and “black car going north” wasn’t likely to get anyone arrested. “Forget it. You planted the package, right?”

Hammer nodded. The other two men in the car sighed in relief. “We need to report back to headquarters,” the driver said, and the man in the passenger seat picked up his cell phone, dialing a number quickly.

“All packages are in position,” the driver said, speaking into his phone. “We’re about a mile out.” He picked up the gas mask that was resting on his lap and threw it into the back-seat, motioning for Hammer to put it on. The other two men put on their masks as well, and the driver hung up the phone a few seconds later before putting on his own mask.

“It’s happening,” he said, his voice muffled by the heavy mask.

7:55 AM, Bundestag
Hauptstadt, Leistung

A shrill whistle reverberated through the Bundestag chamber hall, followed by an extremely loud siren, the sound of which forced the Councilors to cover their ears.

“What the hell is that?!” one of the Councilors yelled above the siren. The chamber doors swung open, and a group of police officers bounded in, grabbing the Councilors closest to them and pulling them out of the chamber into the Bundestag building lobby.

“Anthrax alarm, everybody out!” one of the officers yelled, raising a megaphone to his lips. “Out! Everyone out!” The Councilors hustled out of the building and onto the front lawn of the Bundestag building. Councilor Adler was the last one to leave the building.

Adler ran his hands through his hair, pangs of fear hitting him like bullets. Suddenly, the ground began to shake under his feet, and one of the other Councilors facing the opposite direction from him raised a finger, trying meekly to point towards the city center. Adler turned, full of dread.

The Fassbinder Building, Hauptstadt’s second-largest building, shook with the force of a massive explosion, and the glass windows instantly shattered, showering the street below in a hail of glass shards. Fires immediately broke out, visible even from the outskirts of the city, and a secondary explosion rocked the building moments later.

“Dear God…” Adler whispered. The entire group of Councilors, including the four or five police officers who had evacuated the building, stood in hushed silence as the building buckled and finally began to collapse, smashing into the neighboring buildings as it buckled towards the street and smashed with a force that could be felt throughout the city. A pillar of smoke and dust rose up almost instantly, blanketing the city in a cloud of death. One of the police officers was standing next to Adler, and Adler reached a hand out towards him, trying to tap him on the shoulder, but wildly miscalculating and accidentally hitting his shoulder much too hard. The officer didn’t even seem to notice.

“Officer, what about the anthrax in the…” Adler trailed off as the officer turned towards him, tears streaming down his face.

“It was an airborne alarm,” he said, as if he didn’t realize what the implications of that statement were. It hit him a moment later like a train, and he cleared his throat, lifting the megaphone up. “Alright, everyone needs to move, right now.” The group of Councilors shuffled slowly towards the waiting convoy of cars, keeping their eyes trained on the site where a skyscraper had been a moment earlier. Some had tears in their eyes, while others simply kept their silence.

8:12 AM, Fertigung Building
Hauptstadt, Leistung

The businessmen and women working in the Fertigung Building had been watching the events of the morning unfold out of the windows of their offices, and many had begun to file out in stunned silence, heeding the Hauptstadt Police Department’s warnings. For the men and women working on the twelfth floor of the tallest building in Hauptstadt, though, the longest day of their lives was only just beginning.

With the force of an earthquake, an explosion rocked the tenth floor of the Fertigung Building, destroying the entire floor and killing the occupants instantly. Josef Friede, an engineer working on the twelfth floor, watched as a pillar of flame shot up from the elevator shaft, incinerating most of his co-workers. Josef dove for cover under his desk as flaming pieces of the ceiling began to fall around him, crashing through the floor and blocking off the stairwell.

8:14 AM, Ladder Station 01
Hauptstadt, Leistung

“Be advised, Ladder one, Fertigung Building is ablaze. Repeat, Fertigung Building is ablaze, civilians trapped inside.” The booming voice of the dispatcher had been giving the firemen orders all morning, but this was the first one given directly to the firemen of Ladder one. The shrill sound of the fire engine’s siren pierced the morning air as the truck pulled out of the station, en route to the site of the attack.

When the engine arrived at the front of the building, the scene was one of utter chaos. Lines of dazed and shell-shocked businessmen stumbled out of the front doors and into the arms of EMT’s, while firemen stormed up the half-destroyed stairwells, trying to reach the higher floors before the building met the same fate as the Fassbinder Building.

Meanwhile, anthrax alarms were still blaring throughout the city, and despite the best efforts of the Hazard Containment teams based in Hauptstadt, citizens were checking in in droves to local hospitals, complaining of symptoms synonymous with anthrax. The governmental buildings had been evacuated first, and the Chancellor was reported to have been on a plane to Osterwieck within minutes of the first attack. With any luck, he would be able to mobilize a response quickly.

8:39 AM, Bundesluft Ein
Airspace over Leistung

Chancellor Ringkampf’s hands shook violently as he read the report handed to him by his aide. He let it drop to the floor of the plane cabin in disbelief, and grabbed hold of the nearest seat, trying to balance himself.

“Chancellor, please, sit down,” his secretary said softly, guiding him towards a chair. The Ministers of both Defense and Internal Affairs were also in the cabin, and darted their eyes to the side nervously, avoiding the Chancellor’s gaze.

“Chancellor Ringkampf,” the Minister of Internal Affairs started, speaking in the same soft tone his secretary had used. “A group has claimed responsibility for the attacks.” The Chancellor raised his head up, a look of rage plastered on his face that neither of the men had ever seen on the normally mellow man’s visage.

“Who,” he replied simply, trying to beat back the urge to yell. The Internal Affairs Minister shuffled through the stack of papers he was holding until he found the one he was looking for.

“Ah, a group calling themselves the, ‘Fascist Party of Leistung.’ Previously unknown, it would seem,” he said, noticing that the Chancellor had risen from his seat, and was now peering out the window of the plane, watching the mountains of Leistung fly by at high speed below him.

“Find them, Herb,” he snapped, turning back to face the two men. “Send forth the boys.”

11:55 PM, BKD Headquarters
Osterwieck, Leistung

The Bundeskriminalamt Headquarters was one of the most frightening buildings in the whole of the Federal Republic, and if the people of Leistung knew half of the things that were planned from inside the heavily guarded facility, they would probably have rioted. In the minds of the people, it was simply to be avoided at all costs. In this case, however, the BKD Headquarters was the place near every Bundespolizei and counter-terror agent had converged at, and the sleek gray and black halls of the Headquarters building were abuzz with activity.

In the most secure hallway in the entire complex, accessed only through a series of steel bulkhead doors and guard posts, a meeting was underway to decide upon a course of action. The events in Hauptstadt had consumed the entire nation with grief, but within these walls, the only emotion present was determination.

“Alright boys, what do we have?” the oldest man at the table asked. Johann Mueller had been the head of the BKD for near thirty years, and even he had never seen police action on this sort of scope. “The Chancellor is scheduled to address the nation in fourteen hours exactly, and he needs answers.” One of the men present, a tall, military type with a thick handlebar mustache, stood in response.

“Mr. Mueller, two of my patrol officers reported chasing down a man who was speaking frantically about laying ‘a package’ on his cell phone,” the tall man remarked, speaking in a low and overly-dramatic voice which, if the circumstances had been different, would probably have made some of the more liberal officers at the table chuckle. “Apparently though, he managed to escape in a car. There were no further sightings the rest of the day.”

“Then why even bring it up?” one of the other officers demanded, his comments garnering a large number of nods and grumbles. “Listen—we have the information we need—the Fascist Party of Leistung has claimed responsibility, and yet we seem content to concentrate on sightings and packages on cell phones! For Christ’s sake, it’s Christmas next week! Who knows what sort of package he could have been talking about!”

Mueller stood, silencing the man, as well as the rest of the room. “Gentlemen, I know we’re a little on-edge this evening,” he said softly, removing a pair of spectacles from the bridge of his nose and wiping them rhythmically with a soft tissue. “But we need to stay composed under pressure. Now, how much do we know about this so-called, ‘Fascist Party of Leistung?’”

“Not very much, Mr. Mueller,” the only man not in a uniform remarked. He stood from his seat and walked briskly towards the front of the room, pulling down a map of Leistung and taking a red pin out of his pocket. “As of this minute, we know nothing of any foreign sponsorship of the organization, nor do we know its goals. What we do know is that a call was intercepted by the BKD two days ago, triggered by the keywords ‘fascist,’ ‘bomb,’ and ‘Hauptstadt.’ Quite obviously the contents of the call were vague, and it was placed on a list of possible threats—of course, we get thousands every day. The sheer number of video games involving all three things is astounding, and we simply assumed that someone was discussing something of the like for the Christmas season.”

Mueller raised an eyebrow. “And this is our best lead?” he remarked, half-exasperated, half-astounded.

“Yes, sir. After the attacks, we went back and inspected the contents of the telephone call, most of which included what appeared to be a conversation in code,” the young man replied, noticing as Mueller raised a second eyebrow. "The call was placed from a farmhouse on the outskirts of Steinheim," he continued. “If we can get a warrant within the next few days, we should be able to pursue it.”

Mueller chuckled. “Son, this is the Bundeskriminalamt. We don’t do ‘warrants.’ We do action.”

The Spire, Magna Polis

The Grand Commander had called a meeting with the top members of the Internal Control Department, with familiar faces such as Heinrich Slaag present. The room was dark, illuminated by blacklights and dark blue lights, the only actual light coming from a small window lining the top of one of the walls- even still, not a speck of lint was to be spotted on any of the men present.

"So, I've good news, my dearly loyal friends. From what we've received from our agents within our Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency, the Leistungi Haupstadt has successfully been bombed and subjected to Anthrax. And, the Fascist Party has admitted responsibility. Hopefully, this is convince many of their citizens that the Fascists are not afraid of their pitiful Leftist government. Now, we have no clue as to how the government's investigations are going, but if we carry out our plans right, they won't have a clue. Our next step is to..."

((OOC: I'm planning on moving the Fascist Party leader onto one of the GWO's "Secret Territories", which are usually uninhabited jungle islets (Like the one in Lost or Castaway) hiding ICBM silos and whatnot, then having a communications plan set up so that he can contact his fellow Fascists without compromising his location.))

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From Foreign Affairs Ministry, Unkerlantum
To:Leistung Government

On behalf of myself, the Kaiser, and the Unkerlantian people we are deeply sorry for the loss of life and suffering which has fallen this day on your people.

In an effort to ease suffering, and bring about stability to your lands the Divine Reich is prepared to send medical teams, military police units, as well as HAZMAT and DECON teams to assit in the cleanup and treatment of those affected by the recent biological attacks.

Foreign Affairs Minister Herman Von Kraft

6:15 AM, Ackermann Farm
Steinheim, Leistung

The convoy of police cars had pulled up to the small farmhouse silently, without the hassle of sirens or flashing lights to tip off the occupants or wake the neighbors. A single black Mercedes-Benz with the Bundeskriminalamt seal printed on the front doors parked in front of the doors of the house, two men clad in black suits stepping out of the car and crunching the snow underneath their shoes. One of the BKD agents motioned towards the group of police officers, making a fist with his right hand and then waving his arm in the direction of the house.

Quietly, the line of police officers crept towards the clapboard door, squinting as the sun began to peek over the horizon. The lead officer braced himself against the door as the two behind him steadied their silenced MP5110K (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13718956&postcount=9)submachine guns against their shoulders. With a single fluid motion he swung his foot upwards and towards the handle of the door, smashing the thin wooden frame and slamming it inwards. The line of police officers, now unconcerned about alerting the inhabitants, bolted inside the house.

“Polizei! Polizei!” the lead officer barked, moving forward quickly and entering what appeared to be a bedroom. The other officers fanned out, breaching the remaining rooms with similar cries. To someone inside the house, it might have seemed as though the entire national police force had come crashing in.

A man, no older than twenty-five, was lying on his bed as a black-clad officer burst through his door, holstering his pistol and grabbing him with gloved hands. With a forceful motion, he was hoisted out of bed in his underwear and slammed against the wall while the police officer handcuffed him and dragged him through the hallway out into the snow. The other officers found similarly aged men sleeping in cots all over the tiny house, and before long, a line of nine handcuffed men were lying in front of the house, freezing and frightened.

A beeping came from one of the BKD agents’ phone, and he picked it up, flipping the cover off. “Go for Kirsch,” he said flatly.

“Agent Kirsch, have you initiated a search of the premises?” the voice on the other side of the phone asked, not bothering with introductions. Kirsch walked in through the front door of the building, flanked by two police officers and still on the phone.

“Doing it right now, sir,” he replied, glancing left and right inside the decrepit house. “I’ll call you back if we find anything worth noting.”

“Keep me informed, Agent Kirsch,” the man responded, hanging up immediately. A police officer walked up to the agent as soon as he had hung up his phone.

“Sir, I think you ought to take a look at this,” the officer said, his voice muffled by the balaclava over his mouth. He motioned towards an open door, where two or three officers were standing. Kirsch obliged, and followed the officer through the door.

“What do you have for—” Kirsch cut himself off in mid-sentence and pulled out his phone again, dialing the number that had just called him. In front of him, starkly contrasted with the dank wooden exterior of the house, lay stacks of test tubes, and on a thick wooden table, pounds of plastic explosives. The entire stash was topped off by rows and rows of AK-47 assault rifles leaning against the far wall.

“Sir? This is Agent Kirsch,” Kirsch said, speaking into his phone. “Sir, I think we’ve found something.”

1:57 PM, Chancellor’s Private Residence
Osterwieck, Leistung

Chancellor Ringkampf hadn’t fully gotten used to the idea of giving a speech from his living room, but as the Chancellery in Hauptstadt was in the process of being purged of anthrax bacteria, he had little choice. He tried to shake the thought from his mind as the camera crew began the countdown, going from four fingers to three, to two, and finally to one before they pointed in his direction, indicating that the cameras were running. Almost every channel was broadcasting the speech, and as businesses had temporarily shut down, nearly every Leistungi citizen was tuned in to the news, waiting with baited breath for some word of what was happening.

He began with the same five words every Chancellor began a speech with. “Good afternoon, citizens of Leistung. As you are no doubt already aware, I come to you today not as I normally would, nor as I would like to be. I come to you today in anguish, and in sorrow.

“Yesterday, December 19th, explosive devices planted by members of a dangerous separatist group based here in Leistung exploded in downtown Hauptstadt, toppling the Fassbinder Building, and setting the Fertigung Building ablaze. Casualties for both attacks may range in the high thousands.” The Chancellor paused for a moment, maintaining a look of determination despite the fact that the color had drained from his face.

“The intent of these attacks was to crush our resolve, but let me assure you—our resolve has never been stronger. We will find the perpetrators of these heinous attacks, and there will be justice.

“I invite the entire nation to join with me in a prayer for the victims of the attacks and for their families. I pray that they find solace in Psalm 23, spoken through the words of the Lord:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever.”

((OOC: Is the EVAC of the Fascist Leader a go or no-go, presuming he wasn't in the farmhouse?))

OOC: Yeah, go for it. You can make up a suitably French (he, unlike 90% of Leistung, is not German) name for him and evac him to GWO. He was definitely not in the farmhouse, and in fact, the farmhouse was one of hundreds of outposts with explosives and weapons. They think they're preparing for "the revolution."

The headquarters of the organization is in the mountains surrounding Steinheim, if you need to know where to send your helicopters. Make sure that they fly low, so that my air force doesn't see them coming on radar.

(This thread is getting really interesting.)

To: Leistung
From: The Peoples Republic of Ralkovia

We have recently heard of the tragedy that befell your nation. We hope you find those responsible and give them the justice they so richly deserve. We would like to inquire if you have need for any special aid. A naval transport has been sent with food, blankets, clothing, medical supplies, and hazard masks. If anything else is needed we would more than willing send it your way.

Sincerly,

Thomas Washington, President of Ralkovia

OOC: Glorified bump, basically. I won't be responding to individual messages of sympathy. Just assume that my government is far too busy repealing basic rights.

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Tragedy in Hauptstadt
December 20th, 2008

HAUPTSTADT – December 19th has become synonymous with death, as reports continue to stream in about the exact number of civilians killed in yesterday’s terrorist attacks on the nation. In the deadliest single attack in the history of the Federal Republic, an unknown number of terrorist bombers detonated explosive devices in the basements of the Fassbinder and Fertigung Buildings, bringing the Fassbinder Building to the ground and severely damaging the Fertigung Building.

The two skyscrapers are the largest of their kind in the city, and debris from the Fassbinder Building has damaged much of the surrounding city block, not to mention the loss of life caused when the one hundred and seven storey building collapsed. Rescue efforts are ongoing to rescue the workers still trapped underneath the rubble.

Simultaneously, tens of thousands of anthrax spores were released into the air, presumably by the same terror group (the Fascist Party of Leistung has claimed responsibility). According to experts, spores are extremely difficult to remove in open spaces, and citizens are urged to remain indoors for the duration of the clean-up process.

In a televised address to the nation, Chancellor Ringkampf reaffirmed his campaign promise of a zero-tolerance policy towards terrorism, and urged the nation to pray for the victims of the attacks. Official efforts to find the exact perpetrators and bring the terror group to justice are underway, though their exact nature is highly classified.

Currently, 4,247 civilians have been confirmed dead, with thousands more wounded and missing. The final number will likely be confirmed by the Holy Cross Humanitarian Agency and the Ministry of Health at some point in the near future.

7:47 PM, Exact location unknown
Somewhere in Leistung

“Who is he, exactly?”

“A Councilor. A rather high-up Councilor, actually. He was responsible for the leftist bill that banned firearms for non-militia members, and proclaimed non-Federal militias illegal.”

The man spit on the ground. “Fine. Give the order.”

3:01 AM, Councilor Blau’s Residence
Hauptstadt, Leistung

Jonas Blau yawned lazily, turning the page of the novel he was reading. Few of the Councilors were able to sleep these days, with the phone ringing every few minutes—evidentially, the clause in the constitution allowing for emergency meetings of the Bundestag at any hour of the night was not written with very much foresight.

Jonas’ wife, on the other hand, was sleeping peacefully, as if the weight of the previous few days didn’t even exist. He glanced over to her and smiled before going back to his novel, which, in truth, was a terrible piece of literature.

In a time span so short that Jonas didn’t even have time to think, a man clad in what appeared to be a black jumpsuit smashed the door and raised a pistol, taking aim directly between Jonas’ eyes. The neighbors found the bodies several hours later.


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Federal Directive 201

In light of the heinous and unprovoked terrorist attacks on the Federal Republic of Leistung, and the assassination of Councilor Jonas Blau, the following measures have been passed into law:

--The right of habeas corpus is hereby revoked for persons suspected of membership in the Fascist Party of Leistung. The BKD must present substantial evidence to the Bundestag in order to prove that a Leistungi citizen is indeed a member of said organization. Should insufficient evidence be presented, the person in question must be tried in the same manner as any other criminal would be, and will be treated as innocent until proven guilty.

--Section 5, Article 8 of the Leistungi Federal Constitution (banning of the death penalty) is hereby amended.

--The punishment for high treason against the state is hereby stated to be execution, to be carried out by firing squad.

--Any persons aiding or abiding members of the Fascist Party of Leistung, as well as members themselves, are hereby branded enemies of the state, and in the case of Leistungi citizens, traitors.

-Signed,
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Johann Mueller
Head of the Bundeskriminalamt
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Chancellor Gregor Ringkampf
Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Leistung
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Dieter Adler
Head Councilor of the Bundestag

Encrypted Message

To: Markus Dubois
From: The Gedanke-Polizei

We are prepared to deploy a CH-53 Sea Stallion to pick you and your selected High Command up, so that your identity isn't known until it must be. Currently, we have a Stealth Ship waiting outside of Leistungi waters.

Outside Leistungi Waters

One of the GWO's sleek, camouflaged Backstabber-class Stealth Ships (The FWS Marshal Huszar*) sternly sat in the dark water. No light was visible from the exterior, as the windows all were tinted to make sure of that (Plus, the lights inside were either dark red or blacklights). The ship was designed for small-medium scale covert deployments. Several parts were able to retract to reveal whatever hid behind the cover of the ship; a CSDV below deck, a multiple-cruise missile system here or there, or maybe a helicopter? Of course, this ship only had a CH-53 helicopter and cruise missiles aboard. The crew consisted of the typical Sailor-Marine detachment, but Special Tactics Force Agents were aboard for special protection.

(*Marshal Lurdan Huszar was a member of the military alliance that become the Grand World Order; however, when Griffith Artiche launched a putsch against the political leader, he defected along with a large amount of soldiers to later become the Liberty Confederation. The Liberty Confederation is the most successful GWO rebellion, as they assassinated GRIFFITH-I. Marshal Huszar has never been found, though he is believed to be hiding in a nuclear bunker miles underneath Lead Province.)

[The message has been typed haphazardly, and spelling mistakes are evident. The writer's first language is most definitely not English.]

To: Gendanke-Polizei
From: Dubois

Long live the revulution! I have waited for so much years for this day! I and my people are waiting on Widow's Peak. It are a big mountain, it will be on the map. I am leave most of my close friends and allies behind to continue the war, but I go to you to make sure the strugle goes on.

Sinserly,
Markus Dubois

5:22 AM, Widow's Peak
Steinheim, Leistung

Markus twiddled his thumbs nervously, pulling the thick winter parka around himself. While the events of the past few days had been exciting, what was planned, and what was possible with the help of fascist allies overseas was almost enough to make him scream.

"Monsieur Dubois! The helicopter approaches!" one of Markus' aides yelled, struggling to be heard over the roaring of the blades and the pounding of the wind. Dubois waved, and the chopper began to descend, finding hard ground on a pre-prepared landing site.

OOC: Yay for glorified bumps! If anyone's ever RPed with me before, do not ever make a *bump* post in my thread. I will hunt you down.

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Federal Directive 202

The following directives are now in effect:

--A nine o'clock curfew is now in effect for the following cities: Hauptstadt, Hafenstadt, Landsberg, Keinberg, Koenighofen, Eisleben, Osterwieck, Steinheim. Persons breaking curfew will be incarcerated for no less than 24 hours.

--Councilors and Bundestag employees are hereby banned from traveling without escort, and will not return to their residences at the end of the working day. Instead, they will be placed under armed guard in secure facilities for rest.

--The Volkssturm is henceforth under the control of the Federal Government and not of the Canton Governments.

--The use of deadly force is hereby authorized against persons aiding the Fascist Party of Leistung. A shoot on sight order is in effect for persons wielding deadly arms with the intent to harm.

-Signed,
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Johann Mueller
Head of the Bundeskriminalamt
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Chancellor Gregor Ringkampf
Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Leistung
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Dieter Adler
Head Councilor of the Bundestag

Widow's Peak

The CH-53 slowly landed, and the rear ramp fell to the ground. Inside the helicopter was a stockpile of high-grade military equipment; NBC suits, VX nerve gas containers, Hydrogen Cyanide, explosives, ammunition, MI-8A2 MAWs (They were sold internationally and could be easily modified to fit any ammunition), and even instruction books on how to build thermobaric bombs and radiological weaponry.

After the helicopter was unloaded, two S.T.F. Agents escorted Markus on board. They would head back to the ship.

5:25 AM, Widow's Peak
Steinheim, Leistung

The two Grand World Order agents shifted uneasily in their seats as Markus began cackling, realizing what he was capable of with foreign support. For ten long years he had planned the attacks on Hauptstadt, but with the support of fellow fascists, he could execute attacks a hundred times faster.

The leftist government would feel his wrath again, soon enough.

"Who can I talk to about another attack?" he yelled over the whirring of the rotors. There was a mad gleam in Dubois' eyes, like a child in a candy store.

((OOC: Not sure if you can really unnerve an S.T.F. Agent... I mean, they cannibalize wounded enemy soldiers; they actually just cannibalized an Anagonian Soviet Trooper in another thread before they impaled his head on a communications antennae.))

GWO CH-53

"Once we're at the base, your room will be fitted with several communications screens; one will go directly to Heinrich Slaag, our Eldest Brother, another to the Gedanke-Polizei Headquarters, and the third will be able to be used to call back to Leistung. The line is secured by the Federal Cybersecurity-Warfare Division, so you won't have to worry about possible Bundeskriminalamt personnel snooping about. Our government will be willing to provide you with all necessary materials for liberating Leistung, as well as help if a situation goes awry."

5:32 AM, Pararesque Garrison Quarters Francis T. Little
Partha, Greston

The grief of a neighboring nation hit home hard in Greston, as the Fassbinder fell and the Fertigung burned, so did the hearts of thousands of Grestonians, from Easen to Clare. However, in the small fishing town of Partha, only making it onto the map do to a naval base ten miles from the town’s outskirts, the news of the destruction in Haupstadt wouldn’t be know for days, and then quickly forgotten in the endless waves of the freezing sea water brushing up against the town. In the picturesque port, the oblivious civilians went one with their day as if the world was not missing another five thousand, innocent people.

Were the people of the port town to look a little closer, to pay a little more attention, they would’ve noticed the gloom of the day and how the sun, shone a little less brighter.

“Are we going to be deployed today, sir,” question the young naval air patrolmen as he clambered to catch up to Captain William Lidel, the captain of the CH-105A “Hurricane” Heavy Lifter Helicopter he was assigned to.

“Yes Terrance, we’ll be scouring the area in between us and the Mountain Kraut’s land. Looking for any one stupid enough to have gone sailing last night,” the captain reached his stallion, his 37,000 kilogram steed, and tossed in the uniform jacket he had been holding, “earlier this morning CO retrieved a message from that mof agency, something like Bundekimlenat or something.”

“ Bundeskriminalamt , sir, they’re those crazies over in Leistung.”

“Yea, Bundes land. Well CO says that some fascist psycho bombed them and might escape, going past us, so Command has ordered us to keep an extra look out for anything that doesn’t belong to us, the mofs, or the vettis.”

The man of short stature, whom Captain Lidel had been speaking too, rolled his eyes as his superior officer rattled of racial slurs to two of Greston’s biggest allies, Vetalia and Leistung. The boy nodded, saluted, and scurried off.

“We’ll be leaving at a quarter to six,” Lidel screamed to the boy, stopping him dead in his tracks. He then blanked out of the eager, jittery private and climbed into the Bertha, his name for the Aequatian made CH-105A “Hurricane” Heavy Lifter helicopter.

He stroked the side of helicopter, it answered him with a moan. Lidel cringed back. “Ah Bertha, you’re getting old,” he walked backward until he sat down upon one of the seats in the back half of the copter, “either that or I am. Maybe another year Bertha?” he didn’t wait for a reply from the metal clad, machine, “Not for you, lass, for me. I’m getting old, it doesn’t help that, that damn Terrance lad won’t silence that mouth of his. I’m going to be retiring, pass you onto Jelly, you can continue serving you’re country well, because I can’t any more.”

The well built man let out a sigh which slowly turned into a groan as he stood his full height and began to exit the helicopter, before leaving it he turned back around and said, “You’re a good lass.”

He turned his head forward and was startled to see his second best crewmen, Jonathon R. Kelly, whom to people he knew better was known as Jelly. He went by J. Kelly but when his captain slipped up and said it too quickly it came out as Jelly, dubbing that his nick name ever since.

“Willy, CO contacted me, wants us to bring along these this time around,” Jelly turned around to motion towards a crate, pushed by Corporal Alex Canezy, filled with small arms. There was a few AK-104's, two M12A1 Tactical Shotguns, three MG9B 7.94mm Assault Rifles, two MG260E1 8.5mm General Purpose Machine Guns, and seven P11 Sidearms on the crate.

Lidel walked towards it and picked up one of the P11's. He gazed at it as he twisted it around in his hand, it was an intriguing weapon, much more advanced then the standard Colt he was given when he entered the service.

“What the fuck are we going to need these for? We’re not going to battle against those damn Pomhs, are we?!”

“Nah, Cap, CO thinks we’re going to run into trouble this time or something, that’s it.”

“So he thinks we’re going to fight terrorist?” Lidel cocked the P11 and pointed it at a target in the far end of the chamber. He released two rounds into it, landed what would’ve been a hundred points.

Lidel turned towards the slouching Corporal and questioned him, “What time is it Canezy?”

The young corporal looked down to his wrist and replied, “Um, 5:45, sir. Why?”

As if answering the corporal the Garrison’s radio communications thundered on and the monotony voice of the CO Room roared, “Crew of CH-105A “Hurricane” Heavy Lifter Helicopter 5A7B, “Bertha”, report to your captain.”

Within seconds the rag tag, six man, crew of the Bertha was in front of Captain William Lidel. At the head of the crew, of course, was the veteran captain, Captain William “Willy” Lidel. Beside him was his Sergeant Jonathon R. “Jelly” Kelly, also a verteran, although with lacking the number of years Lidel had served. Then came the heart of the crew, Corporal Lawrence Canezy, a Vetalian born fellow whose demeanor gave light to the majorly bleak crew. Corporal Tyler Pallwell, a Partha born townsmen, hardly contributed anything to the crew except for a hand. The same was for the shortest, but most aggressive, member of the crew, Private Thomas Gaylin, who seemed to stay by himself or with Pallwell on rare occasions. At the bottom of the crew was jittery, high tuned, eager Private Terrance Laldwell, more of a nuisance than anything.

Lidel introduced them to the weapons, giving each a P11 and two to himself. He then snagged a MG9B 7.5mm Assault rifle, Terrance grabbing the second. Jelly grabbed both of the M12A1 Tactical Shotgun’s for himself while Canezy and Gaylin took the MG260E1 general purpose machine gun’s. Leaving Pallwell to choose from old AK-104's and a crisp MG9B, he chose the MG9B.

After fighting over the guns the crew clambered into Bertha and took off.

6:47 AM, Bertha CH-105A “Hurricane” Heavy Lifter Helicopter
Skies Above the Aliquantian Sea, Mediterranica

Canezy was drying down a Yallakian yacht own in the back of the Bertha while Lidel was piloting eratically. They had just come upon the wreckage of a small yacht that had drifted near Leistung. The owner had died in the storm the night before and the other two passengers would’ve too had the Bertha not arrived when they did.

The crew had Canezy dive in and pull them up into the copter, once in there they were given dry clothes, warm food, and comfort, all the while being ridiculed for their nationality. Canezy was flirting with the female Yallakian when Lidel called back into the copter.

“Are those Jimmy Pomhs dry and good, Canezy?”

“Oi, they are, Willy, man. Where are we going to drop them off, we can’t go to Yallak.”

“We’ll drop them off in Leistung, they’re neutral enough, they can transport them back home. While we’re there, we can stop by Widow’s Peak, there’s a shit load of wrecks there this time of year.”

Lidel changed course and the crew simply swayed with the copter on the trip there. After throwing the Yallakians to the Leistungi Pararesque in Steinheim they dropped by Widow’s Peak. The crew gazed down upon the beautiful piece of land which glowed, even with the layer of snow covering it.

When whirling around on a route towards Luxembourg Pallwell decided to gaze at the freezing land scape. It was extremely cold out, on the 21st. The normally clear blue water told the sky so because instead of the beautiful clear blue ocean that was normally there was replaced with a bleak, grayish-white foam and sea.

Whilst gazing out the side of the copter he spotted, far off on a southern course was dark black speck, no flag or banner rising from it. He stood from his post and went to the cockpit. He tapped the lead pilot’s shoulder and told him about it. They quickly turned and attempted to find what he was talking about.

“Shit, Pallwell, that didn’t come up on the RADAR, are you shitting me or something?”

Gaylin pushed his way in and was face to face with Lidel, “He’s not fucking shitting you, Willy, you can see the fucker from here!”

Lidel followed Gaylin’s finger and spotted the dot. He kept hot on his trail, all the while keeping a safe distance away. Once coming close enough to see that it wasn’t Grestonian he started to thing of how to go with this situation.

“It’s not Mof, not Vetti, definitely not ours, doesn’t look like something from the Pomhs. Hell, doesn’t look like something those Agiles’d be throwing around. Shit, Jelly what’s your idea for this, lad?”

“Attack it. It’s definitely not no one’s from the region, can’t be anything but piracy. CO was talking ‘bout that before we left too.”

“We can’t attack that shit,” put it Canezy, “look it has a fucking missile! What do we have? Some machine guns, a couple side arms? Nothin that could give us a winning chance,” argued the young corporal.

“Silence! Men, what are we? I can tell you what we are, we are Combat Search and Rescue! CSAR’s! The Air Combat Command, that’s what we are. Caesars. Now, if the real caesar gave up, would any one have given two shits about Rome? No that damn wouldn’t. So we gotta do our part and kill some pirates. Think about the damage those pirates could do with those weapons, those missiles. Man, we’ve gotta board that shit, just like they would do to one of our merchants.”

A solemn, powerful “Aye! Aye!” floated back to the captain. They kept on course, hot on the ships tail, obviously they noticed Bertha because they began speeding up, but Lidel wouldn’t let that. He attempted to pull up Bertha next to the ship but couldn’t, the helicopter barely reached it.

“Canezy, do you think you can make the jump?”

There was no reply as he was already flying from the copter and crumpling onto the ship. Shortly after him came Gaylin, Pallwell, Jelly, and Terrance. Lidel had one of the paramedics to the ship take up the steer and Lidel stood on the edge of the door.

“See ya later Bertha, have a good run with this limey.”

Then Lidel jumped, the cold air rushing past him, freezing his face. He pushed his foot down, expected to feel a solid floor but felt nothing but air, he began to panic, he clasped his eyes shut tightly and awaited the pinging of the freezing water. But what came was his head crashing onto the side of the deck.

He quickly laid his hand onto his P11 and pointed it forward. The rest of the crew gathered behind him. Canezy waved as the helicopter flew away from what awaited. The ship crew seemed not to notice that they had been boarded by a military rescue paramedic squad.

“Guns at the ready, move at my mark,” when Lidel started rushing forward he turned at the side of the ship and shot randomly at deck’s crew he saw with his pistol. Canezy and Jelly climbed onto the side and attempted to go up higher on the ship as Pallwell, Lidel, Gaylin, and Terrance rushed forward, searching for a route to go below deck.

FWS Marshal Huszar

"Jesus Christ, was ist going sopra up there!?" shouted one of the Marines below deck. Several Marines were running onto the deck, where most of the crew was taking cover from some random person with a handgun while drawing out their own MI-P57s. Two of the sailors were lying with gunshot wounds. The first Marine out had began firing his MI-8A2 (Which was configured in a 5mm/35SMc SMG form) at the unknown subject, while more Marines were running across the deck to find cover. Shouts of "Boarding party!" were ringing out. Marines and S.T.F. Agents came from below deck to either aid the pinned down crew members or look for any other unwelcome guests.

OOC: I'm going to drop the whole "speaking English like crap" thing, just because it'll be difficult to read otherwise. Assume that everything he says from here on out is in German (French is his first language, but I doubt your men speak it). Also, I assume you've turned on your active radar at this point, right?

6:47 AM, Grand World Order CH-53
Off the coast of Leistung

Dubois' heart skipped a beat on-board the CH-53 as he heard the distant popping of gunfire, coming from the direction of the Grand World Order vessel. He turned to face the two frightening-looking men sitting next to him, in a rage of anger and confusion.

"You told me that I would be safe with you!" he spattered, speaking in rapid-fire German. "This is no better than back with the leftist pigs in Leistung!"

If the Grand World Order agents were surprised or taken aback, they certainly didn't show it. In fact, despite the gravity of the situation, both of them appeared quite calm, and if Markus wasn't mistaken, perhaps a little excited to be headed towards a battle. He shook his head--he had no problem with violence--it was the part where he was the one being targeted that frightened him...

"You don't understand!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "We have a very small window here before the sun rises and we're discovered by a Küstenwache patrol vessel! We don't have time for this!"

6:52 AM, FWS Marshal Huszar
Adriatican Sea, Mediterranica

Lidel swerved as a bullet flew past his head. He ducked and dived to get behind a corner as more pirates pulled up from the lower deck. Sparks flew up as bullets smashed into the metal of the ship. As Lidel gave fire to save his life, Canezy and Jelly got into position on the ceiling of the ship. As more and more pirates poured onto the deck, the two pararescue marines lit up them up.

Pallwell was missing from the midst of battle, but Gaylin was to Lidel's side. Jumping from his position, Pallwell came up from the lower deck, his eyes wild.

"GWO! They're not pirates they're..." as he attempted to finish rounds of the enemy's bullets tore him apart.

"We gotta speak to the mofs, I know who bombed Mountain Kraut land!"

Lidel and Gaylin dived from their position behind barrels and flew down the stairs to the lower deck. As they came upon the Comms Room, Lidel and Gaylin rolled in a few grenades. After hearing them boom off they strolled into the room, shooting any survivors, and got onto the radio.

Once reaching the Intel Department in the Steinheim Coast Guard Base Lidel started pouring out racial slurs and screaming, "I'm on board a pirate ship, marked with a '03' on the side of the ship, that is transporting the terrorists responsible for the attacks! After some work I have concluded that this is pure fascist shit, GWO!"

6:52 AM, Steinheim Coast Guard Base
Steinheim, Leistung

Colonel Bauer had been working at Steinheim Coast Guard Base for several years now, and like every other Coast Guard officer, he had been bored for pretty much every one of those years. While of course there were people to be saved from the freezing waters daily, there had been no major wars for years now, and the job of protecting the coasts which would normally have fallen to the Küstenwache had gone undone for far longer than most over-eager military men would have liked. It was for that reason that the message from a Grestonian radio acted like a kick in the ass to the sparsely-populated Coast Guard Base on the coast near Steinheim.

“Calm down soldier,” he stammered, waving over to his superior officer who, having heard the commotion, was already on the way over. “Wait one, wait one.” He twisted around in his chair and relayed the message to his superior, who immediately sprinted towards the “scramble” button—a large, red button with a single purpose. He pushed it deftly and covered his ears as a piercing whistle awakened the entire base, including most of the surrounding countryside. The whistle was followed by a dull siren, which continued until the entire base was on its feet.

Bauer picked up the radio again. “Soldier, we’re scrambling four FA 15’s right now. I need you to get off that ship, post haste. Good luck.”

Four fighter jets roared off the tarmac, gunning their engines and taking off quickly, setting a course for the coordinates given by the Grestonian soldier. The lead pilot flipped the safety trigger off of the joystick and pressed down once on the fire button, letting an AGM-200A+ "Typhoon" (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11128548&postcount=458) fly towards the Grand World Order ship.

OOC: I’m sorry about rushing this thread, but I’m sure there are things you’d rather be doing.