NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: TG for entry
THIS HAS BEEN APPROVED OF BY WHISKEASY)

It was all about wanting to get revenge. Pathetic, really, but it still is the motivation.
~Julian Clary

The Catacombs below Telegraph Square, Bell, Whiskeasy

The cold chill that lingered in the catacombs cut to the bone and the large, dark underground room was filled with an eery silence and if one had been inclined to examine the walls and ceilings of this relic of another era they would notice that someone had been hard at work filling every available area of stone with neat packages containing high explosives. Footsteps echoed in the silence amplified by the stillness of the place, a young man with dark tanned skin and jet black hair made his way casually to a stepladder that was placed against the wall taking great care the man placed one last parcel and wired it up. This man was Nirav Patel, he had, up until a while back, been a sleeper agent for a country who hated Whiskeasy with a passion that burned almost as hot as the nuke that had caused this hatred. He had been a sleeper until the government of his motherland, of Fictions, had made the call and set him his task.

In a few hours he knew a rally would take place, it was nearing election times and as part of his campaign, the current Prime Minister would be making a speech in Telegraph Square, directly above the catacombs, such an event was well publicised and thousands were expected to turn up. Some were already there and some, like Patel has arrived days before but not for reasons as sinister as his, his job, his task was an assassination of the Whiskeasian Prime Minister himself. He wanted this to be something that would stick in their minds even though he would consider no revenge against this wretched country complete without the use of a nuclear attack. He sighed and walked out of the catacombs arriving back at the old house he had commandeered for this attack it was the perfect place, a large old house for building the bombs and a cellar with entry into the catacombs the only problem had been the owners, no matter a bullet to the head had sorted them out. He felt no guilt, he had no compassion for the people of this nation, these people who had killed so many of his countrymen.

On edge he flicked on the television to the news channel where he knew a live broadcast of the rally would be being held, sure enough the annoying jingle of W.M.B.C, the Whiskeasian Media Broadcasting Corporation, started off and the cheerful voice of the anchorwoman announced the rally and went over to the on scene reporter.
“We are here now in Telegraph square, where soon, the Prime Minister Frederick Gordons, is expected to arrive...”
Patel let his mind wander, he was happy that he was assisting in avenging the deaths of all those innocent people who had died by the hands of this so called 'humanitarian' nation but he knew, and he knew others knew, that this revenge would not be complete, that they would not have regained their honour, until they had killed a Whiskeasian for every one of his countrymen that had been killed in the nuclear attack, it was his duty to do this, and it had been all he could do for the time he had spent in this place not to simply kill any citizen he had come across. Even if he did feel he had every duty to do so, he was under strict instructions. He glanced back at the screen, the camera was focussed on the figure of the PM, who was giving some sort of speech, the crowds cheering and waving flags. What did these people have to be proud of?
“It is our time for change... In my short time as Prime Minster I think we have made a real impact on...” He turned off the television and walked down to the cellar, in it was a remote which he would use to detonate the explosives. He pressed the buttons, in a few minutes all hell would break loose, but by that time, he would be on his way back to Bowmore

Telegraph Square, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

Frederick Gordons smiled at the crowd assembled, the Liberal Party had a massive turn out today and roughly four thousand beaming supporters had taken to the streets to attend the rally in the middle of the historic and stauchly loyal city that was Bell. One of the the Liberal Parties strongest constituency's was in the southern borough of the town and now it was threatened by the Conservative party which was swiftly gaining popularity. So the Prime Minister himself was going to make a speech at the three day rally where the Liberal party would regain it's stranglehold over the region for the elections only weeks away. Gordons was also going to bring out a few of his election promises, better health care, more support for the elderly and very young. And the promise that Whiskeasy would become more of an isolationist state. It had been a nosy and active member of the International scene and the public was turning more against it, only problems had come from their extensive work in the international community. With the possible exception of the nations involvement in ODECON everything had gone horribly wrong. The Invasion, Nuking and Occupation of Fictions being a fiasco indeed, the accidental nuclear assault being an embarrassment and the complete farce of the peace talks afterwards being a waste of time.

Standing on the wooden balcony he looked out over the crowd, they shouted and cheered as he appeared and he waved to them and smiled. He had never been a popular politician but these were his people, his die hard supporters and he loved them for it. He had taken over from the previous Prime Minister the charismatic and powerful Jack Daniels who was now back in politics, confusingly in office as Gordons deputy Prime Minister. A bit of a role reversal, and even more weirdly completely allowed under the Democratic Act of 1812, the act passed by King George IV giving democracy to the people. Gordon's policy differed somewhat to Daniels' and there were rows aplenty but it had been decided and Gordons looked over the crowd and motioned for quiet. The florescent of the police jackets contrasted to the blue and red of the party supporters. A few figures moved around on roofs to his front scanning the crowd with sniper rifles and looking at the buildings around the square. They were mostly empty and closed today, BOIF agents were all over the city today. There had been rumours of a threat on the Prime Minister's life but there had been no evidence so BOIF and the Special Service had just put up the standard cordon with extra agents on standby.

Finally talking he launched into his speech the small cue cards in front of him "It is our time for change! In my short time as Prime Minster I think we have made a real impact on our communities, the country has improved massively and I think that in another four years we as government can do so much for the better of the people of this nation...."

Cobblers Road, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

A few miles away PC Harold Bricks patrolled the streets, he was alone and his partner was in the car up around the corner, slowly walking down the streets of the old part of time he looked at the empty houses and grotty gardens. Here and there would be a plastic climbing frame or swing set, the roads were patched and narrow, almost cobbled. His feet echoed as he walked through the narrow streets, his florescent jacket standing out against the dark grey of the houses and street. As he walked through through an old archway the first explosion rocked the city. A few moments later a smaller one rocked the houses, suddenly car alarms were going crazy dogs were howling and the quiet houses were above with activity. Across the radio which had been busy all day with chatter came the screams of the men wounded calling for back up one, Brick's sergeant, was saying loudly but calmly "We have a large explosion in Telegraph Square, The front end of the Town Hall has been blown open and we have mass casulties... We need immediate support, I think.. I think the Prime Minister is dead."

The net went quiet for a moment as people contemplated what just happened and then the shouting started again. A few moments later another voice came over the net. "I need a Unit despatched to 34 Cobblers Road. We have a possible fix on a bomb location, Other locations are 12 Masters Street, 56 Duckworth Avenue and 78 Percy Hill." Bricks quickly called in he was on his way jogging up the hill to the large gray house where a dirty bomber could be concealed.

Telegraph Square, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy
Frederick Gordons was not dead, he was nearly there though. He was blind, he was bleeding and burnt but sitting on top of a pile of rubble he could hear his people crying and screaming. He could hear the shouts as his guards searched valiantly, a dull roaring could be heard as the second explosion had been a gas mains which was now burning fiercely sending up black smoke and illuminating the square. A square it was no longer, it was hell. People streamed out of the exits as emergency services fought to get in. Massive piles of bodies were present in the front part of the square, there being a large hole where the shrapnel that had been the pavement had spread across the square. Gordons had been blown of his balcony as had his aides and some of his bodyguards. Lying on top of a large Whiskeasian flag near the entrance of the town hall, his body twisted and dust covered, tiny rivulets running through the blood and dust on his face where he wept. A reporter crouched next to him, fumbling to check for a pulse and he turned to the reporter and stuttered quietly "The Horror, the horror."

And in the hell of Telegraph Square a martyr was born. And a sleeping beast was woken, not easily stirred the Whiskeasian people were alert now. And they were angry.

Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

The sound of frantic footsteps filled the house, Patel swore loudly a few times as he upturned various chairs, tables and other miscellaneous bits of furniture, where was it? He couldn't believe he had been so stupid, so misplace his trusty sidearm, he must have dropped it on the way down to the cellar because he knew he had it just before detonating the bombs. He had heard the explosions from here and knew that by now the police would be hot on the trail of anything suspicious. Time was running out, he had to get out. Fast.
He upturned more tables, cursing his own stupidity as he did so, he should have been out of the city and on his way to Bowmore! A glint of metal caught his eye and he dived for it reaching under the sofa he found what he was looking for, checking the gun was loaded he made his way towards the door. Better late than never. The sound of sirens coming from outside the house made him freeze. How could they know? But... of course they would check every house with access to the catacombs. He started to back away from the door, slowly not daring to turn around incase the door was suddenly opened and not lowering his gun...

***

Somewhere in Space a satellite took its position over Whiskeasy snapping pictures of the ground below and relaying them back to the satellite's country of origin...

***

CA Aquaria, Republic of Fictions

The meeting room was silent as the satellite images were displayed on the screen, picture after picture showing the scene of the explosion, some zoomed in so you could even make out the faces of the dead lying on the ground. President Owen Chana stood up and stood in-front of the screen behind him the pictures shifted constantly.
“As you know, the first step in avenging the deaths of those who have died in the Espias attack” Chana indicated the screen behind him, as the first democratically elected ruler in the whole of Fictions' history, ever, he felt it his duty to avenge the deaths of those who had died in Espias, this strong anti-Whiskeasy policy was the driving force behind his party, the Conservative Party's campaign and he suspected it is what won him the election. Oh god the election. That was one of the most badly organised, hectic and chaotic elections he suspected in the history of all democracies. People simply did not grasp the concept of being allowed to choose and of course there had been counterrevolutionary attacks and anti-democratises campaigns all the way through the elections, they were so bad that only a brave few actually plucked up the courage to form a party. In which his, the Conservatives, gained a victory. Even if a large amount of the population were too paranoid to vote, feeling that if they chose wrong it would come back and be the death of them.
“But what will we do if they find out it was us?” Chana looked at the person who had spoken and shrugged
“Deny it obviously, they have no proof and even if our agent is captured and confesses we can say it was a delayed order from the dictatorship he was following... Nothing to do with us”
The wretched Whiskeasians would probably not believe them but what did that matter? He had much bigger plans for them... Much bigger...

Cobblers Street, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

Bricks ran up to the old house his feet sounding loud in the narrow street, hearing police sirens he knew back up was close by but approaching the door to the house the sound of furniture being overturned was prevelant it sounded like so many domestic disturbances but there was no screaming...
He took his side arm out, the pistol sliding out smoothly being held in the safe position, the barrel pointed up to the sky, advancing towards the door he jiggled the handle. It was open, standing in against the wall he quickly opened the door peering into the dark hallway he could see a man, pistol raised staring straight at him. Without thinking he shouted “Police! Drop the gun!” poitning his gun straight at the man he looked him in the eye seeing the crazed fanatical look in his eye as he went to fire the pistol. Bricks fired first the gun making a loud bang in the confined space of the hall quickly ducking back in behind cover he calmed himself as the first car arrived on scene, a BOIF car two agents quickly exited the car and pulled their weapons scuttling towards him crouching against the wall. One of them made to circle the house, going to block the building's rear exit. The other looking grimly at Bricks he said “Did you get him? Who was it?”
Without saying anything Bricks turned back to the door, daring a peek.

Telegraph Square, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

The emergency services finally forced their way into the square overwhelmed with dead and wounded civilians the thinly stretched medical personal where not prepared for the massive casualties that soon engulfed the three ambulances on scene. The six paramedics were not prepared or equipped to deal with such a tremendous disaster and the wave band filled with the sound of angry despatches routing every possible ambulance to the stricken square. Military units where mobilized as the city was shut down, the roads were being closed and helicopters both local law enforcement, military and medical were being scrambled to the terrified city. A ghostly pall lay over the city as the black smoke and dust settled over a large area of the city the town filled with the sound of sirens wailing as motorists and commuters finally understood the magnitude of the disaster they cleared the streets the buses and trains shutting down as the whole area ground to a standstill.

W.M.B.C 24 Hour News

The Newsreader stopped his talk on the local news, the increase in drink driving suddenly becoming unimportant as he frowned and then looked shocked. Looking dead in the camera he stuttered into it “Breaking news and images from Telegraph square where the Prime Minister was giving a campaign speech. It seems... No, it has been confirmed that a massive explosion ripped apart the Square. From the pictures coming now we can see that massive damage has been wrought and emergency services are thinly stretched.” As he said 'pictures' a blurry shot of the square could be seen, obviously taken by a news helicopter high above the scene trying to evade the massive plume of smoke but still getting glimpses of the fire lit carnage beneath them the flashing lights of the ambulances surrounded by a sea of debris as well as the seemingly uncountable horde of dirtied casualties.

And all the way in Bowmore along with millions of other Whiskeasians Jack Daniels looked on in shock and horror. It seems he was Prime Minister yet again.

Cobblers Street, Bell, Southern Whiskeasy

Cautiously, Bricks peered into the room, there was no sign of the man whom he was certain was the terrorist who had killed the Prime Minister and so may others. Moving slowly, pistol at the ready he moved further into the house his footsteps muffled slightly by the carpet that lay on the floor, he felt as though every one of his senses were working far better then normal, every sound seemed magnified as he listened out for the creak of a floorboard or the sound of feet, glancing back at the door he saw fellow officers motioning for him to get back and let the agents take care of this. He ignored them and made his way further into the house stepping over a chair that had been upturned, then he heard it, from down the hall came the sound of clattering metal and the voice of a man presumably swearing although Bricks could not understand the words. He edged towards the room he had heard the voice and had barley made it down the hall when the man stepped out, saw Bricks, gave a start and fired. The next few moments passed in a blur, one bullet ricocheted off the wall and broke a vase, another slammed into Bricks' leg, he fell to his knees clutching at his bleeding wound, the pain so intense he felt he might be sick, unsteadily he raised his gun with one hand and pointed it at the fleeting terrorist, firing a shot he heard the sounds of other policemen and agents entering the house attracted by the sounds of gunfire, the bullet Bricks had fired hit the man on his gun arm. The terrorist swore again in that strange foreign language and clutched at his arm, his gun lying abandoned on the floor. Bricks raised his gun again, trying to ignore the stabbing pain that shot up his leg, making him lose his focus, but there was no need to fire another shot, two BOIF agents approached the disarmed terrorist who tried to run, one of the agents caught him, the foreigner struggled to free himself but was tasered. The man went limp and fell to the floor unconscious, Bricks let his gun fall to the ground, relief passing though him, the world slowed down and he heard someone shouting.
“Someone get a medic, Bricks has been shot!”

***

CA Aquaria, Republic of Fictions

“Breaking news and images from Telegraph square where the Prime Minister was giving a campaign speech. It seems... No, it has been confirmed that a massive explosion ripped apart the Square. From the pictures coming now we can see that massive damage has been wrought and emergency services are thinly stretched.”

The Whiskeasian news report rang out, normally all Whiskeasian channels were blocked from Ficional televisions, but this time, President Chana wanted to see everything. Naturally this would not be available to the public, unless some enterprising blogger found it on the internet and uploaded it onto their site, in that case he suspected the news would spread like wildfire in the unofficial way that rumours do. He watched the news report, savouring the details of the destruction, this was by no means an adequate revenge but for now, it would do. Whiskeasy had shamed and dishonoured the nation and that could not go unpunished, if all went to plan, this was only the first of retaliatory strikes, and finally... The big one, the real revenge... An eye for an eye, a nuke for a nuke.