NationStates Jolt Archive

STAGE ONE: PREPERATION

Celestis Orbit...

There was no grand burst of light or unheard roar: In one instant there was only vacuum, and in the next the shape of an Xiscapian Wasp class Heavy Cruiser (http://www.moddb.com/images/cache/mods/82/8237/gallery/thumbmoty_53379.jpg), the XIW Naladubuites. It hunched over the world center of the Communist State of Calaverias, like a knife poised over the vulnerable heart of some beast, silently menacing. On the bridge, a kitsune of the Homo Vulpes phenotype stood with his hands clasped behind his back in typical Kitsune Imperial Navy fashion, ebony tail and ears hardly twitching, Hispanic features composed and only slightly warmer than the outside space. "Congratulations," he didn't turn to the two guests on his bridge, "you get to witness history being made here today." Admiral Sor continued to stare out at the planet of Celestis, recollecting the many conflicts the Kitsune Empire had had with the human Communists over the decade since they had made contact until now.
Now they would finish them, for good this time.

The first one on the bridge was heavily cloaked, limbs withdrawn inside his robes and a hood concealing his features, two yellow eyes flecked with brighter gold burning out of the darkness. He too gazed down at the world, but there was something hungry in his intensity, some long-burning feeling that transcended mere hatred into an obsession, a pursuit. Like the commander he was deathly still, apparently waiting passively, but everyone near him could sense the excitement and rage radiating away from him like a beacon. He had not said a single word to anyone from the time the Heavy Cruiser had set off from the Motherland until now, and he didn't seem inclined to break the trend, even so close to his obscure goal. The one called Silvertooth Rose had no attention for the other person waiting with him, the foreign representative with the body of a tigress, Lieutenant Second class Malina Losvara.

Sor turned now fully to her, glancing only a moment towards Silvertooth. "This ship was named naladubuites after one of the words in our anthem. There's no exact translation for it in your language or in Galactic Common from Xiscapian, but the closest interpretation is 'watch in awe.'" A icy grin. "Naladubuites, Lieutenant."

Two tendrils of communication, invisible, wispy uplinks from the Heavy Cruiser, extended outward to two close but separate sources. The first wormed its way into a satellite which orbited the planet, a vital instrument known as the PURE satellite that routinely updated the consciousnesses of the Kash Clones under the control of the Communist State of Calaverias, preventing them from having independent thoughts and ensuring that they would forever remain tools of The State. For the moment the virus passed along sat dormant, awaiting activation from its creators, undetectable within the network. The second link carried a message to Celestis, broadcasting directly to the Administrative Ministry building where the Great Leader and his top aides and generals presided.

TO: The Great Leader
FROM: Xiscapian Imperial Warship Naladubuites

Following the fall of Miller and Pamp and the collapse of the Grealic Empire, as well as the current conflicts at Ferra and the Midas Array, the Xiscapian Diplomatic Corps has elected to withdraw all eleven of its Overseers from Calaverian territory for their safety. Please assemble the Overseers at the Administrative Ministry, we will be sending down a shuttlecraft to retrieve them. General Caedo will be remaining with Calaverias for the duration of the war.

Administrative Ministry Building...

The Administrative Overseer, General Overseer, Chief Overseer, Xiscapian Ambassador to Calaverias and the Great Leader's emissary and interpreter, Erus, as his full title went, strode up the white hallway towards the quarters of the Great Leader. The kitsune was of medium height, silver haired and tawny furred, his usual his white robes were drawn about him, leaving nothing but his neck and head exposed, his frozen orange eyes fixed on the doorway ahead. After being admitted by the guards he looked upon the Great Leader, none other than a modified clone of the man that this entire cult-figure-worshiping nation was formed around, Kash Wilson. Erus had worked with and counseled the Great Leader for about a standard year now, and while he was always impeccably polite, his inner default mode usually ranged between amusement and disgust, both for the man and his people. He took solace in the fact that it would not be much longer before he would be free of this burdensome task.

"Great Leader," he bowed, "as you no doubt have been informed, I and my brethren are leaving. As my last act here I wish for you to assemble your greatest political aides and military commanders here, one last time, so I may impart some wisdom in my passing before I take my leave. Is this acceptable to you, sir?" An arched eyebrow.

Pamp Orbit...

Before it had fallen to the Danaversians, Pamp had been a Calaverian world, taken by General Caedo and his forces from the Grealic Empire some time ago, swiftly gaining him recognition and prestige among the Communists. Before it had fallen, as he and the last survivors had fought their way out, Caedo had made a pledge: "I will return." And now, aboard his flagship the Obliterator class Observer the Nemesis, the most powerful ship in the Calaverian Navy and guarded by ten Surgical class Observers, he had. A Danaversian Shoal fleet had spread itself over the world, much of the surface blocked by the thick blanket of ships, and on the ground the Xiscapian knew marched hundreds upon thousands, maybe even millions, of Danaversian soldiers. But they mattered not: They were an obstacle to be overcome, and swiftly, for the plan to work.
And work it would.

"You have total control over the fleet, sir," the A.I. KABAL reported tonelessly, indicating that Caedo could, from the safety of his ship, directly manipulate the actions of the other ten Observers in the fleet, without input from their respective Captain's or crews. As it should be. The crafty kitsune General nodded, a slow smile spreading over his pale lips as his fingers began to dance over the controls at his Captain's chair, releasing fighters, deploying cannons and moving the mighty Communist force against the hated Fascists. Among his men, Caedo was a god, untouchable, master of battle and victorious no matter who the foe was, be it Grealic, Danaversian or some other foul lesser race. This charisma would help him win the day in more ways than one.

TO: Xiscapian Imperial Warship Naladubuites
FROM: The Great Leader

Xiscapian warship, what is your purpose for being here, you were not cleared by our G-T-O array, we never recieve any warning of possible evacuation, surrender now or we will be forced to open fire.

Calaveras

G-T-O Ping weapons turned to the sky and began charging, a electric blue charge was appearing at the edge of there barrels, a result of the plasma making contact with oxygen. Air raid sirens began to scream as Probe fighters swooped into aggressive attack formations. The jackboots turned into sprints as GOU began to man positions around the world, be it in street checkpoints or military bases. The holographic posters of the great leader changed to a red sign that said " LEVEL 4 CURFEW: STAY WITHIN YOUR HOMES". This sudden act of releasing Xiscapias grip on the world was not a good thing, it came to quick.

Administrative Building

The doors behind Erus shut and the Great Leaders Inner circle dispersed to leave the building immediatly. The only three remaining in the building was a GOU, The Great Leader, and Erus all in the same room. The same room where he made all his decisions, the same room where lives were lost in an attempt to better himself and others. These white walls and table representing his mind in a way, always pure. The Great Leader stared at Erus, as the GOU raised his War-Path Phased Assault rifle at Erus the Great Leader waved his hand and the weapon's barrel was put down. He stared into Erus's eyes and asked one question. " They will be together elsewhere for the time being, tell me why this is happening so soon and without warning."

TO: The Great Leader
FROM: Xiscapian Imperial Warship Naladubuites

Our purpose has been clearly stated: We are here to remove the Overseers for their safety, if the Danaversians come here the Xiscapian Diplomatic Corps do not want their people in harms way. This is your warning for the evacuation, when time is of the essence we must make haste. It would be supremely unwise for you to order your forces to open fire upon this vessel: You do not want to make us have to come and retrieve our people by force. Please assemble the Overseers at the Administrative Ministry, we will be sending down a shuttlecraft to retrieve them.

Administrative Ministry Building...

Erus suppressed a sigh. After the fourth occasion, he had stopped counting how many times a weapon was pointed at his head simply for opening his mouth, or even merely for being in the room at the time. He felt he knew all the intricacies of the barrel of a Warpath rifle or the muzzle of the Great Leader's own pistol, so often had he the chance to study them in detail.

The diplomat shook his head. "I know no more than you, Great Leader," he explained, "I was never informed that this action would be taking place. I am as surprised as you." And the 'Thespian of the Year' award goes to...

To: XIW
From: KABAL GOVERNMENTAL A.I

You have ten seconds to lower your shields...

Administrative Ministry Building

It was quiet in the room for a few seconds, there was no more hustling of officers, soldiers and generals. It was just Erus, the Great Leader and a personal GOU bodyguard. The Great Leader nodded " I understand Erus, I understand....well I have a replacement." He said before the door began to open and a white skinned, white haired, blue eyed kitsune walked through the door and stood next to the Great Leader at attention. This xiscapian clone looked exactly like Erus, if you didn't count the adjustments.

TO: The Great Leader
FROM: Xiscapian Imperial Warship Naladubuites

You have ten seconds to indicate your compliance or we will retrieve the Overseers by any means necessary.

Administrative Ministry Building...

Erus felt repulsed, taking an involuntary step back: The thing had different hair, different eyes, than he did, and while it was nearly physically identical to him excepting for the changes that had no doubt come about while the creature was still in the cloning vat, the differences were striking. The abomination couldn't be more than a year old, so it hadn't perfected his own cool demeanor, his calmness, his frozen eyes, but it was going for it. The kitsune Overseer stared at his clone, then flicked his eyes back to the Great Leader. "I supposed I should be flattered," he murmured. "I was not aware that I was so invaluable to you." How many others have been cloned? General Caedo? Chief Ambassador Vanadict? Maybe even -Qonn forbid- the Emperor himself?
How many others?

"I must remind you the importance of gathering your officials," a glance back to the clone, "I must speak to you all one last time. I have prepared...something."

The G-T-O weapons powered down after the Great Leader waved his hand to KABAL.

To: XIW
From: KABAL GOVERNMENTAL A.I

Please evacuate your people immediatly

Administrative Ministry Building...

The Great Leader nodded, he knew something was coming, he couldn't help but feel something in choke him in the back of his throat. As the officials began to appear back into the room again the Great Leader began walk towards his balcony where he could be be alone. The officials walked past him and he said to Erus " Call me Kash..." as he turned and walked out, the doors quickly shut behind him. The room was dead quiet without the presence of the Great Leader. The generals and officials stared at Erus, waiting for whatever it was he had for them.

STAGE TWO: INITIATION

Celestis Orbit...

"That's what I thought." Sor snorted, tapping at the message. "Bad bluffers, all of 'em." He turned to Silvertooth, who still stood cloaked and robed, watching him intently. Sor simply nodded and the strange kitsune who turned on heel and vanished, bound for the shuttle that would take him down to the surface. The Admiral turned back and looked down at the world that would soon be obscured by smoke, fire and death, supremely glad that he was up here and not down there. He wouldn't trade positions for all the credits in the galaxy.

Kratos...

The bulk of the XIW Freedom parted the vacuum of space like a mighty ship breaking though the waves in some ancient Navy, the two escorting Marchamp class frigates hugging alongside, dwarfed like tugs to a battleship. On the bridge Captain Edo, a Vulpes Vulpes of the purest white fur and deep orange eyes, sat with his arms resting on the supports of the chair, staring out the viewscreen that displayed a magnified imagine of a barren moon. His orders were very strict, and very clear: In order to complete the total destruction of the Communist State of Calaverias, he was to destroy this moon, under Executive Order Orbit of Glass. For the first time in Xiscapian Naval history, a strike against a world was not being done to capture it, or to destroy enemy infrastructure or forces, but to utterly wipe it from the face of the galaxy. And he was the Captain they had given the job to.
He supposed he should feel honored.

In truth, Edo wondered: Who was on that moon? What sort of lives did they lead? What were their hopes and dreams and aspirations, and what would they say if they knew they were about to be annihilated in a single burst of violence? True, he had been briefed: He knew that this was a secret outpost, that scores of unethical experiments had been and were being constructed here, that it might harbor deadly weapons that could one day be used against the people of the Kitsune Empire. If there were any unwilling test subjects here, any prisoners, they would welcome death, he knew: Life as a Calaverian servant was worse than almost anything in the galaxy.
But still, he was troubled.

The Freedom, in a past life, had been named the Lenin, and it had been on this very starship that the short-lived Calaverian war had started. Xiscapian boarding units had retrieved Xiscapian prisoners, captured the ship and detained Kash Wilson himself (the original, not one of his clones) in the hanger bay only a few decks away, which now held Shuriken class fighters of the Kitsune Imperial Navy. The ship was a decade old, her systems were outdated when compared to the new Calaverian Surgical class, she was slow and woefully underarmed, but she did have three things going for her: She was big, she was extremely safe, and her main and only weapon, the Plasma Ping, was devastatingly powerful. Another plus: The total crew was only three hundred and ten, three hundred pilots, himself and his two Bridge Officers and seven medical personnel, with room for a thousand passengers. The vessel practically ran itself, strictly speaking he could control it by himself without help from anyone, though the task would be exhausting.

Now the moon was within weapons range and Edo felt the whole ship shake as the Plasma Ping systems contained everywhere inside the ship began to power up under the command of one of the Bridge Officers. The dish on the outside of the Observer would direct the invisible beam at the moon, once it was fired it would take about two seconds for it to reach its target, and another two for the full effects to be seen: It would not take even five seconds between the order and the destruction. Edo gazed at the pockmarked surface of the planetoid, contemplating what was about to happen. The communications systems remained silent: No one knew if the outpost had scanners, but even if it did, it would make no difference, without an Observer to protect it the station was helpless, at the mercy of any passerby that was aware of its location. Only after what seemed to be a long while did be become aware that one of his officers was speaking to him.

"Sir? The Ping is ready to fire, sir."

Edo jerked himself out of his thoughts, and nodded silently. Lifting a finger over the single green button, he watched the moon, as if waiting for it to give him a signal. At last the Xiscapian stabbed down on the button and turned away. Four seconds later the moon exploded in a burst of heat and light, only spiraling chunks left to mark what had once been an entire heavenly body, the Ping completely obliterating it. Without a word Edo input the course changes that would take them home, knowing that he would probably receive some sort of award for this. He felt sick: A ribbon for murdering Qonn knew how many people. This hadn't been how he'd imagined the Kitsune Imperial Navy when he'd signed up, not so long ago.
Word was that an excellent position was about to open in the Joint Division, to ferry them to and from hotspots in the Danaversian war, no shooting, no killing, just simple transport. Maybe he would ask for a transfer...

Administrative Ministry Building...

An armored shuttle (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Star%20Wars/imperial_transport.jpg) landed just outside of the seat of power in Calaveras, ramp extending to the ground, squatting there like some huge, metallic beast from the gods. Six Marines marched off, forming into a line with three to a side, just in time for the figure of Silvertooth to come sweeping though them, ignoring it all, intent on getting to the building where his goal lay. Past him filed ten of the eleven Overseers, who walked up the ramp into the craft, barely concealing their glee at having successfully pulled off the subterfuge for so long and being able to finally return home from this hateful world.

Conference Room...

The door hissed open behind Erus and Silvertooth stepped in, a shapeless form in black, colorless but for the two animal eyes that pierced out from under the hood. The Chief Overseer stepped back next to him. "Communism is a failed system," he began. "Wherever it has been attempted, it has failed. However, your brand of Communism, Calaveran Communism, works, for the simple fact that the vast majority of your population can do nothing but work: They are not "programmed" to do anything else." A wintry smile. "Seems perfect, no? But," a tilt of the head, "when your workers are clones of a mass murderer, well, that simply cannot do. Calaverias has been too aggressive, too set in its old ways. It has stood in the way of progress," a grin that was more like a snarl, "of democracy, of freedom. You would not budge from your stagnated customs, even we could not change you. So, the question is, when an unmovable object meets an unstoppable force, what happens?"

A bow. "Ponder that. I leave you in the able hands of your executioner. Remember him? You should," an entirely evil grin, "you tortured him for four years. For the People. For the Emperor. And for Xiscapia. These proceedings are now over." And Erus was gone, running for the shuttle.

XIW Naladubuites, Bridge...

"The virus had integrated itself into the system and is awaiting our order, sir. Shall we activate it?"

Sor heard the words the Bridge Officer uttered, and they brought him a deep, satisfying pleasure. "Yes," he said definitively, nodding his approval. "Let's create Hell incarnate, gentlemen."

The officer grinned. He was only too happy to play such a vital role in destroying Calaverian scum. "Initiating now, Admiral."

Across Celestis, the Kash Wilson clones would feel themselves become updated by their satellite. It configured their orders, putting a single priority above all others:
<YOU WILL KILL KASH WILSON>

Stargate...

The link connecting Celestis and Xiscapia crackled and hissed and a figure appeared, stepping out slowly and elegantly. It was every inch a kitsune, dressed in standard combat fatigues, and holding a blaster rifle, but its eyes were dead and emotionless. Looking around, it sent a burst of binary back though the system, and thousands more like it began to pour though the portal marching in perfect lockstep. Their orders: Eliminate all resistance. An entire division of android soldiers, fresh off the assembly lines, began to split into brigades and regiments and battalions and companies and platoons and squads, programmed for search-and-destroy. The clones would do a fine job of destroying themselves, but there were still non-clone soldiers and rabid citizens to be dealt with.
Xiscapian Grand Army forces were on the move for liberation.

Administrative Ministry Building...

I grinned, a jagged white line in the darkness, and let the hood fall. My face isn't familiar to most of them, but some recoil in shock, in horror, in fear. One man stands, a general, reaching for his pistol, knowing exactly who I am and what I'm capable of.

From the reign I've built
Of shame and guilt
I go back and take a look

A strike, and he falls back against the table, clutching his bleeding stump, crying out. The others scramble away, fall back, but alas, the door is locked, and no amount of pounding or swearing opens it. Pleading, crying, begging, temptations, threats, to no avail. My grin is frozen, delight in my eyes, as I approach, heedless of their voices.

At myself and what
I have done so far
At the bridge she's
Dying waiting till light

A scream rips itself from my mouth and in a blur the room is filled with gore, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the table, whats left of the bodies, all covered in blood. The light hanging from the ceiling swings crazily, making shadows dance, reflecting off my sword, already wet and crimson with internal matter. The door has opened, finally, too late, and I can see the back of that man, that monster, the one responsible.

Eyes glowing out of the darkness, fixed on him, a deep, split voice.
No choice
Blood splatters the walls.
To go!
I come into the light, blade proceeding me outward, hatred and rage coloring every syllable.
Backward, inwards
Okay, shatter us
You're to cross the chamber!

A strike of power, awesome power I feel tearing though me, under me, and it collapses, falling, debris and him and I to the floor below, impossibly intact. Dust makes the air heavy and thick, swirling, choking like a living mass, and though the haze I can see men approaching, shouting, gesturing. I rise up, a magnificent shape with destruction haloing my form, blood-flecked teeth, gore-slick sword and crazed yellow eyes the only light.

Going down I walk my way till now
Deep to the obscurity
A man charges, I strike, and he is flung away with a flush of blood, a second appears and he is run though, the point of my katana protruding grotesquely out his back, impaled.
Obliterating you in every way
With my life's insanity

Up, down, over the rubble, though the ruins of the once-great testament to Communist power, savage all the way. My blade is my guide, my beacon light, held out like the deadly right hand of some bloodthirsy god.

Battered up again
I'm going right insane
Curled up on the floor
Wonder ways to kill the pain and
What doesn't kill you
Only makes you pissed off

I crash though a wall, slice a guard from pelvis to the top of his head open as he starts back-

Sweep back
-see another and tear away his spine, bone and organs twisting and disintegrating-
to kill
-in half this time, arms lifted up as if in song, legs flailing, a look of shock and pain-
You pray, make it go away
Cornered at last, he's fleeing, stumbling, running for his pathetic life, out a square of light. There's others, in some formation, holding their weapons out and ready, as if mere bullets could kill me, intent and totally obedient, no fear.
I come deliberately, not quite a charge, a few quick steps-
So let's, sweep back the shining blade
My face is wild, eyes wide and hungry, taking my own advice, bringing my sword back in a two-handed grip, among them now, bringing it down as they turn, not quite comprehending-
Cause when you punch me, I bleed!

The shockwave is incredible, all I see is red mist, battered, torn metal, suddenly there's light everywhere, red light white light yellow light, and I emerge into the open air. The entire section of the building I was just in is gone, annihilated by psychic energies, just dust and wreckage and corpses. I can't see the man anymore, but he's out there somewhere, and he knows I'm hunting him, he's seen what I can do, he knows I'll never stop.

Going down I walk, my way till now
Deep to the obscurity
Two men, running, the first catches himself on my sword, tearing his chest apart, falling without a sound, the second turns, barely aware, and I remove his head from his shoulders with a single blow, sending it spinning across the courtyard.
Obliterating you in every way
With my life's insanity

There's more before me, a lot more, gathered and concentrated now, conscious of the threat. They're his men, sent to stop me, gathered as their world crumbles to confront the beast and kill it, destroy it, so it will only haunt him in his nightmares. Tanks, mobile guns, and soldiers, many soldiers, firing, blasts going off around me. My cloak flutters and I bring it before me, shielded, an arm up, and the retorts sound like the clashing of giants in my ears and the cannons fire, and fire, and fire, and there's nothing but smoke and dirt and more fire, ever more fire...

Eventually it ceases, and they go quiet, having expended everything they had in a single mighty volley. They stare into the fog, watching, waiting uncertainly. Had they killed it? Surely nothing could survive that barrage. It was dead, there was no other explanation. Then, movement, smoke being torn aside like a shroud, and I allow myself to be seen. I did not go unscathed: My robes are little more than rags, I'm entirely stripped to the waist, bleeding from numerous cuts, bruised, battered, wounded. It's counterproductive: This wasn't isn't so different from how it was then, when they had me, when they put me under the knife and the torch and everything else they could think of, fascinated by my resistance to death. I can remember, and memories bring pain, which in turn brings anger. I scream the words, sword out again, covered in soot and ash, approaching inexorably, unstoppably, to their cries of disbelief and wails of terror.

No choice
I traverse the distance, a slash, and a man dies, entrails spilling about his legs, falling face down into the dirt.
to go
Another scout dies, gurgling, clutching his throat, eyes wide behind his helmet, falling to his knees.
Backward,
A silver streak across my vision and a soldiers shrieks and falls, blood fountaining from his chest, screaming and crying until I step on his head and he goes silent.
inwards
Not long now, lunge past and a clone rolls in the dirt, firing blindly, dead before he knows it.
Okay,
A GOU is impaled on my blade, I kick him off of it, twist, catch a Calaverian under his chin and laugh as I wrench my blade, tearing his head apart.
shatter us
The last one, standing bravely, firing, I feel the slugs sink into my flesh but I ignore them, hit him head on, and he falls apart, limbs bouncing away, nothing more than a pile of steaming flesh.
You're to cross the chamber
A downward, ground-shaking blow that flings itself across the tanks, the guns, the soldiers, and they are propelled into the air, torn apart, set alight, and they come smashing down around me. I can no longer by seen, covered in my blood and that of my foes, matted with ash, dark but for my eyes.

Going down I walk my way till now
Deep to the obscurity
Obliterating you in every way
With my life's insanity

Suddenly, I am very tired. There's nothing left, suddenly, I realize I've killed them all, but my ultimate goal remains unfulfilled. The swine escaped again!
No matter. He cannot escape. Now that they have let me out, it is only a matter of distance and time until I find him, and make him relinquish that debt of pain he placed upon me all those years ago.

The kitsune was brave and bloodthirsty, but in his rage he let his emotions take over him clouding the fact that there were two more GOU standing in front of him. The GOU stared through his visor blanky before a large black fist slammed into the side of silvertooths jaw shattering bone and teeth, knocking the kitsune into the ground in bloody confusion. These two clones were the great leaders personal guards, both independent from the sattalite as well as force resistant. The other clone watched as the first had leveled the kitsune into the ground. The attacker took of his helmet revealing the face of a cold Kash Wilson, looking down at the kitsune. " I see xiscapia sent one of his murders to do its work for them, we may fall but the final ending of my life will not be by your hands. You look so high upon youself as if your actions are honorable, but the monster your looking for is really in a mirror, the murderer is but in the reflection of water, do your empire a favor....die." Both the clones now stood five feet away with there helmets on asthe sound of chaos had taken over the streets. The great leader had already escaped, even now he was walking on the streets of xiscapia wearing a white cloak. His face held high, he made his path to the emperors palace. How he had gotten there would be debated for years to come.

OCC: on my itouch so it coat look very neat

OOC: ;)

STAGE THREE: EXTERMINATION

IC:

Heavy breathing though a broken jaw, every inhale of air a study in agony, my bare back scrapping against the ground littered with broken glass, spent shell casings and debris, blood on my fur, on what's left of my robes. I can feel my tongue sliding over my cracked teeth, soft interior lacerated by the bone shards, one eye swollen shut, but I've endured worse, at the hands of this man's clones, and of others. Kash Wilson, the one who has been killed a billion times but will not die, has made it his goal to never end.
But he will die, now, and forever, today.

I can sense my psychic powers repairing the damage done to my body, tissue reforming, bones grinding back into place. If it weren't for this strange, passive power of mine I'm sure that I would have died long ago, but it helped me though my father's house, the Calaverian Observer, the Danaversian Barracuda, the warlord's dungeons and the Warp and every other foul place, to the point that I barely notice it anymore. I stand slowly, picking up my blade from where it had fallen beside me, putting one hand on the side of my face and cracking my neck back into place. The pain is intense, but that's nothing new, the pain is like an old friend, it keeps me going, keeps me alive, fuels my fury. I feel it flare back as I look at the two men before me, defiant and unafraid, and I can see we are one and the same: Neither fears death because neither has anything to live for any longer.

"It is in the nature of men to create monsters," I rasp, "it is in the nature of monsters to destroy their makers." No more needed to be said: They would know of what I spoke, and how they should have known that I would be back to haunt them again, making the same mistake my father made all those years ago. My sword flashes, and one who had spoken dropped, armor and flesh cleaved, entrails spilling and tangling over his legs, helmet bouncing and clattering away down the street. I kneel beside him, unwary of his partner, and take out a small dagger. It's the work of a few seconds to remove his ears, eyes, nose and lips, leaving only a red mass with a dark hole in the middle where his mouth is wide and screaming like a demon. I step away from the clone with the ruined face, letting him bleed out, perhaps hoping that he could feel a fraction of what they had given me, and point my sword at the other.

"Your fate will be the same as his," I watch him down the length of my katana. "You can put that gun in your mouth and pull the trigger, make it quick, wait for your Great Leader to join you in hell. Or..." I grinned, a mad expression, teeth flecked with blood, my eyes pools of fire daring him to drag it out, let me inflict more damage upon my captors and torturers. "Your time grows short, little man. Choose."

Xiscapia...

As soon as the Great Leader had been spotted two Black Guards, who had been waiting in the anticipation that Silvertooth would not finish the job, fell into step beside him. They proceeded up the street, causing people to stop in their strolls and stare, traffic to pull over and hovercars to land as kitsune craned for a better look. Soon enough the insults started, people jeering and cursing the Calaverian, food, bottles, rocks and bits of trash pelting the dictator, splattering and smashing over his cloak. The Palace was in the distance, coming closer all the time, and at it could be seen a hastily assembled police barricade with a number of policemen and Black Guards behind it, waiting to receive the Great Leader and his escorts. As they approached Kash would feel someone slap plasma cuffs onto his wrists and he was shoved behind a patrol car, like some common criminal. People were gathering outside now, shouting and laughing, kitsune, Korr, Alversians and every other type of alien imaginable, bound together by their hatred for the Communist leader.

Celestis, Orbit...

An Xiscapian Dominator class Battleship appeared over the former homeworld of the Calaverians, shortly followed by four Marchamp class frigates, a Carrier and a Medical Ship. A frigate escorted each as they went about their duties: The Battleship settled above the planet and began to make pinpoint strikes where large concentrations of GOU were, careful to avoiding hitting any valuable structures or assets. The Carrier came in near it and began releasing strike fighters, hordes of small craft heading down to the surface. Finally the Medical Ship began to send down transports and medical personnel to treat and evacuate as many civilians as they could, assisted by drop ships from all seven vessels. On the bridge of the Naladubuites Admiral Sor bowed to Losvara. "Your people will be coming at any moment, Second Lieutenant, the Army and Navy will be making sure the surface is completely clear before they arrive."

Pamp, Bridge of the Nemesis...

"Goodbye, old friend."

Caedo murmured this as he introduced a virus into the computer network of the Nemesis. The virus immediately replicated many times over and began to hunt the A.I. KABAL, eventually finding and destroying the computer intelligence while the General locked out all essential systems. Finally he turned his attention to the exterior, where the ten Surgical class Observers were clustered around the world of Pamp around the burning wreckage of the Danaversian warships. The battle had been swift and decisive: The Danaversians had never expected a Calaverian counterattack so soon, and since the plasma cannons of the large Communist capitals were modified by being phased, they had lost their invulnerability to Calaverian plasma. It had been pathetic, really, the enemy had been so arrogant in their recent victory that they'd been totally unprepared when the Calaverian fleet came. That mistake had resulted in their annihilation.

By his orders, none of the ships had released their considerable volume of ground troops to the surface. They knew the Danaversian armies were staring up and preparing, ready to defend City Fifteen and the countryside, but little did they know that it would not be GOU they would be fighting.
In fact, the galaxy would never again see another Calaverian soldier.

Caedo typed a few commands into his console and watched the ten vessels with an air approaching melancholy. "To trust an animal is to tape a grenade to your hand." He muttered, smiling grimly. Kash Wilson had said that, the original, before he had been killed by Commander Durc by a shot to the head. With that, he initiated the action and watched with interest. All at once, without any forewarning, the ten Observers exploded brilliantly, their self-destructs activated, lighting up the night side of Pamp for a brief time brighter than its moon. It was done: The Calaverian Navy had been entirely neutralized.
Except, of course, for the Nemesis.

Caedo knew that none of the crew or soldiers on board would have any idea of what had happened: There were no portholes on the Obliterator class, and all the monitors were with him, on the bridge, where he was alone. He briefly considered trying to persuade the Calaverians to stay on board with him, certainly it would be nice to have a few battalions of troops that wouldn't need to be paid and could be considered utterly expendable, but he dismissed the idea almost as quickly. He had learned all the clones were utterly loyal to the Communist government, and the real people had been so badly brainwashed they were no different. If they found out what had happened, what was happening even now, they would mutiny, and try to kill him, and if that happened they would be a rouge element with a highly powerful warship, free to roam the galaxy.
That would not do.
They all had to die.

Calmly, Caedo entered another couple of actions. Throughout the ship airlocks, hanger bays and vents opened as wide as they would go, venting atmosphere and setting dozens of alarms on the bridge into a frenzy. The assault troops and crew, if they were not instantly sucked away into space, would be killed by the explosive decompression and lack of oxygen, or, if they were wearing protective suits, by the Nemesis's own internal defenses as they were identified as intruders and destroyed. Suddenly, he knew, he was completely alone, with only the nearby world full of Danaversians and Pamp citizens for company, all his former soldiers and officers dead by his hand. He put it out of his mind: They had deserved it, and after all, they would have done the same to him. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

In time the relieve fleet arrived, a Battleship, two Cruisers, a Carrier, a Medical vessel and two frigates. The three battlewagons began to make their sweeps, destroying every and any Danaversian soldier, vehicle and instillation on and under the surface. Soon the only ones that remained were the ones inside City Fifteen: Fighters were dispatched for precision strikes against them, and finally kitsune shock troops beamed directly down to deal with the enemy soldiers. As soon as the planet was secure more troops and medical personnel came down, clearing out the dead and the wreckage of Danaversian war machines and structures, assisting and sheltering civilians and beginning the set up of a new Kitsune Imperial government on Pamp. They had suffered under the Greali, and then the Calaverians, and after them the Danaversians, so it was determined that they would be oppressed no longer, a free and happy people at last.
The rebuilding began.

Xiscapia

Kash sat in the back of the patrol car as the crowd threw things at the car trying to somehow penetrate and hit him with there items. He threw back his cloak revealing his face. He knew certain death would be approaching soon, so he was already deciding on his last physical words. He knew there was a better place after his physical form had been destroyed, his whole life had been dedicated to continuation of him in one way or another. He was right all a long to not trust the xiscpians, but blind trust had gotten the better of him, believing the Xiscapians to be the free loving and trustworthy people. Evidently deception and genocide would apply to his race, clones or not as his army's were killing each other and his fleet would have been destroyed already, he wondered of Caedo and his forces.

Calaveras

The last GOU smiled at Silvertooth and dropped his weapons, knowing full well of his imminent death, but fear was not gripping his heart. He began to chuckle " Do your best, tear me limb from limb, bath in my blood Xiscapian" He took off his helmet and grinned. " Destroy this body which is now just a prison, know this, you will never end my legacy, Kash Wilson is ever lasting, I will be there as your final breathe is drawn from this world Xiscapian, now, do your worst." He kept his eyes open and stared into Silvertooths making sure he was able to see his end come at him without fear, and to let the xiscapian know he had none.

Celestis, Orbit

“Very good.”

The tigress stated giving a simple nod at the admiral’s report. She was told she should do something like that instead of a traditional military salute. Every bone in her body still screamed for her to salute the general officer before her and make some sort of ‘good’ gesture but she resisted. She was a politician now. A leader of her people, an ‘elected’ leader, even if that election was technically at gunpoint. She simply stood back and watched the scene play out instead of doing anything to interrupt. She grunted softly as she thought about what was going to happen, she knew how this was going to play out. This was too much like the old initiative doctrine of clearing out an entire civilization to make room for new, superior folk. Even if in this case we could replace the word ‘superior’ with ‘more obedient’ and add next to it ‘less homosexual’. This new civilization, this new confederacy would replace all of that. Genetic purity would not be the main focus of their lives. Instead, they would focus on preserving all life. Preserving and enhancing the quality of life without infringing on others. Education and learning would be their tools and this planet, even if it was covered in blood, would be their or rather former Lieutenant Losvara’s canvas.

“I’ll still want to send a party of my own down to the planet admiral. It’s not that I don’t trust your brilliant scanning equipment and Xiscapain firepower. Just that I’d like to have our people participate in some way, rather than have historians and whoever doesn’t like us making the case that we are lazy.”

Aboard the Malayus

It was morning, or so every digital readout that could said it was. No one was really awake, aside the few patrols roaming the few corridors and the bridge crew. Though in the belly of the vessel there was a male skunk still awake in a room aboard the vessel, starring into a cup of artificial stuff they called coffee. To everyone else he was sitting at the small table in the cramped room by himself, but he saw someone on the other side. A lithe male feline about the same age he was, with long dark hair and stunning hazel eyes.

“You know. It’s getting harder and harder to tell myself that you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

The feline looked hurt at that, grabbing his indeed imaginary cup of coffee. He only sipped at it before responding.

“Why do you say that? You make it sound like I’m a parasite or something… Besides. I’m as real as you want me to be. You’ll understand that soon enough Cali…”

Kal hated that name, he honestly did. He wished his subconscious would find something else that this manifestation would call him but it never came true for some reason. He was going to say something but just contented himself with a sigh and a swig of his ‘awake juice’.

“So what are you saying? I’m gonna lose my mind? Even worse I’m gonna lose my mind to a dead kid?”

The feline just leaned back. He’d heard this speech before and went away after each one. He knew it was the skunk’s way of avoiding his own guilt but he wasn’t the owner of kal’s mental processes. Yet.

“You died when you were ten. Ten years old. You stepped on a mine. You died. I’m not gonna lose my mind. I’m not gonna lose my mind to a dead kid. A dead kid with nothing but a bloody head.”

The skunk said to himself taking another quiet sip of his brew. He was at the table alone after that, alone in the morning sipping on bitter coffee waiting on a purpose in life.

Celestis...

"Wind speed fifty eight knots, Angels Three stand by for bomb drop."

The white Shuriken class snubfighter hurtled itself over the surface of the Calaverian world, identical gray and beige buildings flashing by below, the yellow streaks that indicated muzzle fire from warring clones turning to white streaks on the pilot's virtual vision. The starfighter operated on a V.R. uplink, meaning that while the pilot was safe and sound in the orbiting Carrier in a V.R. pod, he was experiencing being inside the cockpit of the strike craft and controlling it as he would if he was physically present. The system was rather new, implemented just after the Danaversian War started, so the airmen were still getting used to working with it, but the battleground that was Celestis provided an excellent training mission for green Navy kitsune: All the buildings were the same height, no AA, clearly marked targets, the whole op was already in the bag. Naturally, the vast majority of the infrastructure was to remain intact for the use of the colonists afterward, but there were a few key facilities that had to be destroyed by air strikes. None of the pilots questioned what they were doing: It had been clearly established that the Communists were evil, and while the Initiates were a bit weird, they were better by the order of several magnitudes than the humans.

Finally the target came into visual view: A cloning factory, ever producing clones of Kash Wilson, that could not be allowed to fall into Initiate or indeed anyone else's hands. The Xiscapians had experienced first-hand the evils of cloning on a rampage, and they wanted nothing more to do with the identical reproduction of sapient creatures.

"I have a visual on the target, approaching on vector 23988...bombs away."

A single missile shot out of the underslung rocket cell of the fighter and streaked away, down into the center of the facility. The fighter banked, released a probe, and climbed away into the sky, on to the next building that needed to be obliterated. The drone hovered patiently, and a few seconds later there was a massive blast of heat and light, obscuring the facility and the area around it, brighter than the midday sun. Moments later it was over, the high-grade explosive had left only a smoking crater ringed with fire where the base had once been, incinerating all the Calaverians in and around it instantly. All over the planet similar strikes were occurring on other clone production plants if they were in densely populated urban areas, if they were more exposed a single orbital blast would destroy it.
The end of a civilization.

Elsewhere on the planet the androids and assault troops from the starships overhead were moving though and rounding up civilians for deportation offworld. Anyone who resisted was knocked unconscious and thrown into a transport with their family, if they had one: The Xiscapians felt little goodwill to the humans who had once sought to destroy their nation and enslave their people. Still more artificial soldiers were clearing out structures and streets, killing every clone they could find even as they tried to destroy each other, using weapons that would normally be prohibited even in wartime, such as fast-acting, rapid-dispersing poison gas, nanobot swarms and chemical weapons. There was simply too many clones for it to be effective to wait for them to kill each other off or try and destroy them one by one, and no one cared much about the methods, the man had proven to be a delusional, genocidal maniac though and though, and his clones were no different. Worker droids, put in place nearly a year ago, were working on clearing the bodies and rubble with systematic methods: Any equipment or armor of use would be sent along for Initiative use or to be melted down for resources, while the corpses were burned and the rubble broken up for building materials. Still efforts were made to preserve the buildings and streets for the incoming colonists, though the stench of war and death would not be gone from this planet for a long time.

Two Xiscapian Marines were on patrol near the destroyed Administration Ministry Building, searching for fighting clones, civilians who had come to the government building to seek assistance or government officials who had escaped the chaos and were attempting to secure documents or gain transport off-planet. So far they had found nothing but wreckage, burn marks and bodies, the result, they thought, of an orbital strike. Though the haze they could see what looked like the remains of a Calaverian armored column, with burning Stalker armored cars, ruined Emergency Operations Tanks and dead soldiers scattered here and there like so many discarded toys. The dead seemed pretty ordinary for combatants who had been on the wrong end of an orbital strike: Bad burns, some blown apart, many still on fire. Here and there, though, there were discrepancies: Cuts too wide or neat to have been made by shrapnel, clean slashes that perfectly terminated two halves of a man, blood where all fluids should have been vaporized...
And then they found the clincher.

"By Qonn..." One of the soldiers turned away, wrenching off his helmet. The sight had been bad enough to make him puke, but now that the smell of roasted flesh and postmortem defection invaded his sensitive kitsune nostrils he threw up, splattering the ground with his breakfast. The other Xiscapian continued to stare, quite shocked: He had never seen anything quite like it. The clone lying on the ground had been horribly mauled, face ripped away, one arm broken in a dozen places and forcibly shoved up the rectum, the other completely gone, both legs broken and twisted over each other, bloody, guts, offal and other fluids pooling and drying on and around the ruined man from being disemboweled. He gave a grunt of disgust, stepping carefully over the smashed human and looking ahead, trying to put the sight out of his mind. The other caught up with him a few moments later, falling into step beside him, morbidly fascinated.

"How did they do that to his arm? I mean, he was wearing body armor down there, it shouldn't be able to go straight though-"

"Shut up." The other groaned.

"That was no orbital strike man, some shit went down here, it looked like they got attacked by some kind of wild animal-"

"I said shut up!" The second soldier snarled, jogging off down the street. The image was burned into his mental vision, he knew he would never forget this day as long as he lived.
And he wasn't so sure he'd be proud to tell his kids about it, either.

Naladubuites, Bridge...

Sor looked at Losvara for a long moment, then nodded. "Send down whoever and whatever you like," he said finally, and turned back to the monitors. "Operation Counterrevolution is complete." The operation had been a perfect success, he had been worried for a moment there when Silvertooth hadn't reported in to say he'd killed the Great Leader, but word had gotten back to the Xiscapian Admiral that the bastard had been apprehended at the Xis-Cala Stargate. Fool, thinking that he could escape into the Motherland. The kitsune thought idly. He understood the Initiatie's desire to put the boots of her own people on the ground: If they just sat back and let the Xiscapians do all the work, they would seem ungrateful. Certainly, whatever help they provided would only be a drop in the bucket, but perhaps it would be enough to let them feel as though they had made a difference. Sor knew they would have enough problems once the planet became theres, having to learn how to use the factories, how to grow the food, how to construct and man their own defences, how to make the structures suitable for their own habitation, all with a severe manpower shortage. Certainly, if they retained the worker droids already on-planet and allowed the Xiscapians to keep soldiers and aid workers on the planet things would go faster, put obviously they, like anyone, had their pride.

Imperial Palace...

The hovercar soon landed safely behind the walls of the home of the Imperial Family, the Outer Courtyard shielding and screening them from the angry citizens outside. Already the crowd was two hundred strong and growing alarmingly, people shouting, screaming, crying, jeering and yelling their hatred, rage, fear and, in the cases of the more well-informed, victory. Along the walls Black Guards stared down impassively while at the gates and along the perimeter police had barricaded the area and stood in long rows with gas masks and riot shields at the ready, prepared to quell an uprising if the mob decided to take matters into their own hands and try to breach the walls to deliver their own justice to the Calaverian. News crews were gathering as well, transmitting live footage all over the Coalition, permitted to watch from the walls or the air with their drones and hovercars as Kash Wilson, the Great Leader, stepped from his transport out onto the Outer Courtyard. He would be met only by police and Black Guard: There were no servants to wait on him hand and foot like there would have been for any other guest. He would note that, while he couldn't see the faces of the police behind their visors, they treated him roughly, as if trying to get in their own licks before his inevitable execution.

In the middle of the Courtyard stood the Emperor himself, watching with a blank expression, body wrapped in robes against the wintry day as Kash was led to him by an escort of four Black Guards. The Xiscapian ruler just watched the human with sad, tired eyes, as if trying to find a single shred of decency that would allow him to spare his life. At last he spoke, making a miniscule nod as he did so.
"Hello, Mister Wilson."

Imperial Palace

" Hello, your majesty." he said before taking off his robes and revealing his military dictator outfit. Kash smiled at the Emperor " I knew it was you, so this is the end huh?" he said turning around and looking at the city, his eyes gazed into the distance. Kash turned back around again. " You know, lets have lunch, all that running from that freak of an Xiscapian has got be hungry, besides, wouldn't want my last minutes being with an empty stomach your majesty."

OCC: lil busy sorry for short post.

Outer Courtyard...

The Emperor's eyes flashed at the mention of the 'freak of an Xiscapian', but he made no motion whatsoever. "I'm afraid I cannot grant that request, Mister Wilson," he told Kash mildly. "You see, consuming a last meal now would only result in the involuntary regurgitation of it on your part upon your execution, which, aside from being excruciating painful and certainly uncomfortable, would cause quite a mess." He sighed theatrically. "You have already made enough of a mess, I'm afraid."

Behind the Xiscapian ruler came a second kitsune, this one dressed in black robes that seemed to capture the dim light around them and devour it, nothing exposed to the cold but a pure white snout under the hood and two clawed hands holding a rifle (http://www.mauser.org/rifles/K98k%20German/GermanK98-02_1200.jpg). He (one could only assume the individual was male, the billowing robes offered no clues as to the person's figure) gripped the gun with two hands across his waist, one hand on the stock, the other on the barrel. He slowly put the barrel at an angle towards the ground, and, with his other hand, drew the cock back and loaded a single, copper-plated round into the chamber, releasing the pressure and making the weapon armed. He put the slugthrower back in it's original place, standing with his shrouded head appearing to face the Great Leader, and waited.

The Emperor blinked once. "Do you have any last words before you die, Mister Wilson?"

Celestis, Stargate...

What was that stupid saying his old history teacher had always said? Oh yeah; never assume, it makes an ass out of you and me.
Kyoto shook his head, idly watching as a demo team crawled over the portal linking the Imperial capital and the former homeworld of the Calaverians. That's what they'd based this whole little fireworks show on. Don't assume that just because they gave you their word they'll abide by it. Don't assume that just because you've been thorough you haven't missed a few. Don't assume that just because this Stargate here shortens travel time to a matter of seconds that it isn't a security risk.
Don't assume that just because he moaned your name means that night meant anything.

The black-furred Vulpes Vulpes kitsune watched as the last of the soldiers, a grunt shock trooper in silver-plated reflective armor like himself, cleared the blast zone. The Gate had three charges on it, one on the top and two on each side, just enough force to crack the structure and cause it to collapse, no spectacular explosions here. I think we've had enough fiery detonations around here for one day. He looked up at the blocky, identical skyline of Celestis where several columns of smoke rose, some from destroyed cloning factories, others from where large concentrations of vehicles had been bombed. It wasn't like this, back on the Dominique, he thought, the far distant flagship guarding a tiny system in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. It was clean, sterile, well removed from all the fighting, one of the safest places in the whole Kitsune Empire, and they move me here.

A sharp cracking sound, like that of a slugthrower, and the Gate crumbled. That's that. The kitsune shook his head at the small cheer and scattered clapping from his comrades and glanced around again. At least most of the fighting is over, and they didn't assign me to clearing out the civs. He shuddered at the remembrance of the smashed Calaverian GOU with the ruined face that had been lying in the street. If I'm lucky they'll just keep me here, where it's nice and quiet while the colonists set up and I won't have to worry about the fucking war. He snorted to himself. Yeah, right.

Kash smiled "Last words?...I will never have any last words, I would like to have a audience with the people of Xiscapia" He sensed someone beneath those black robes. The white fur and sound of his breathing...Silvertooth. He would be damned if he let that kitsune take his last life. He continued with the Emperor " I want you to have this..." he said before pulling out a silver pistol, it had a slightly worn grip and it was heavy. " Something to remember me by." he smiled.

The Emperor smiled grimly. "I already have quite enough to remember you by, Mister Wilson." A Black Guard strode forward and relieved the Calaverian of his sidearm, taking the weapon and seeming to weight it in his hand, assessing it, analyzing the pistol before looking at his Lord. The Emperor shook his head and the bodyguard stuck the gun in a holster, stepping back into attention where he had stood before. "I will see that General Caedo recieves your gun, if wishes to possess it."

The robed kitsune who held the rifle came a few paces forward now, standing on tiptoe to whisper into his Imperial Majesty's left fox ear. Foxfire Rose listened impassively, closing his eyes, and did not respond. The hood lifted slightly and Kash could see two orange eyes staring at him; the muzzle, while elegant, was not that of Silvertooth, this was some other executioner, a priest perhaps. He and the Emperor stood at length in his fashion before the other bowed and retreated back to his original position, hood falling down again to conceal the face. The Emperor's eyelids fluttered and opened, and a pair of cool yellow eyes, slitted and inhuman, pierced the Great Leader.

"I am not a murderer, Mister Wilson," Foxfire said softly. "I am not like you; I take no pleasure from this execution. But it is the just thing to do, and I shall not obstruct justice in it's rightful course." He spread his arms wide, as if trying to emcompass the whole of Rio Casa, eyes looking up at the hovercars and video drones which watched from above. "You have the eyes of millions upon you, Xiscapian, Alversian, Setulanite, Belkan, Greali, Calaverian, Berrax, perhaps even Danaversian and Boolean and other races and peoples we know not of yet. You have the focus of the present and the attention of the future; speak now, or be forever silent."

" I don't think there are any Calaverian eyes on me, there to busy laying on the floor staring at a puddle of there own blood emperor." Kash looked up at the video drones. " I don't feel sorry for anything I have done. I wont get on my knees and ask for your forgiveness because I will receive none. For years I have eluded my enemy's, for years I have pressed my will to infinite bounds and now it comes to a...pause..but I have died over a billion times, Ive experienced my own share of pain and terror on numerous battlefields and frontier and if you think that killing me again will rid you of my thoughts...my influence in this universe, you can go ahead and end me. I deserve this, but, I was only trying to be the dominant specimen in my race and I reached that goal. I tried being the best that I could and I did, nothing you do to me will change that. I won't say goodbye because I won't be forgotten. I now leave all my territory with the races that are bearing witness to me, as well as some..treasures, should you find them. Now, priest, respectably I ask you lower your weapon and that the Emperor gets to swing that sword of his." He smiled. " Quonn knows how long its been since hes used it." Kash stared at the Emperor without blinking, waiting for the killer blow.

The priest snapped the rifle up to his shoulder, staring though the iron sights down the barrel at the perfectly centered target, whole body tense and quivering as he held the position. The Emperor stared Kash Wilson down, and this time his eyes held no compassion, no sorrow, no mercy. "You have no regrets, Mister Wilson?" He smiled coldly. "Your kind never do."
Foxfire Rose nodded once, authoritatively.

The rifle cracked, recoil making the weapon jerk back against the shoulder of the Xiscapian who held it, the gun bucking in his arms. A spark and burst of gunpowder propelled the seven point ninety two by fifty seven millimeter round out of the barrel and into the belly of the Great Leader. The slug entered though the flesh with a burst of blood and penetrated the right kidney, spinning though the ascending colon before finally being halted by the biomass of the body, causing considerable internal hemorrhaging, intense pain and loss of bowel control. The human doubled over and collapsed, curling around his wound which, while not immediately fatal, would easily become life threatening if untreated. Blood began to leak over the uniform Kash wore and onto the cold ground, steaming in the chill, his fast breaths fogging in the winter air.

Foxfire Rose walked by the mortally wounded Calaverian, sparing him not a glance, careful not to get any blood on his robes as he made for the gate with a slow, stately manner. He was followed by a cadre of guards out of the Outer Courtyard to stand before the crowd, smiling genially as cameras zoomed and the reporters who had been able to make it in time began shouting questions. In the Imperial Palace airspace the Guards and police had already begun to shew away the hovercrafts and drones, restricting the area once more and going back to their posts. In the Outer Courtyard all was quiet and still, as if in another world from the city outside, deserted but for Kash and the priest. The religious alien was busy moving some sort of screen in place, as if to shield Kash from prying eyes, not looking at him as he worked. Finally he left, taking his rifle with him, and Kash was left alone.

After a short time he would become away of the sound of feet on the stone pathway leading from the Imperial Palace. From his position he could see nothing but the gray sky above, and it hurt too much to move and ascertain who was approaching him. Soon enough a form loomed above him, and with a thrill of terror the Great Leader would recognize the one who had come to finish him off. Silvertooth Rose stood, a horrible monument to the brutality of sapients everywhere, including Calaverians, naked from the waist up, chest, side, arms and back scarred deeply with both thick, black rips and fresh, bleeding tears, blood-red hair falling over his face, eyes burning like twin funeral pyres as he stared down at the man who had caused so much suffering. Slowly he squatted beside him, taking out a long, elegant, terribly curved dagger and stroking one cream furred finger along it, speaking with relish.

"There was once a doe born with a terrible curse: She had only one eye in her head, and thus could only see in one direction at a time. Surely she would fall to the hunters, don't you think? But this was a clever animal, she always grazed between a seashore and a forest, with her working eye facing the woods so she could not be caught unawares. For a time, this worked, and she did not come under assault, how intelligent she must be! But the hunters came by boat with their rifles, and shot her from the sea, stripping her of hide and meat and leaving her bones to bleach in the sun. My father told me that parable once, and like all good stories, it has a message," Silvertooth grasped the slowly dying man by his collar, pulling his head up so his snarling face was only inches away from that of his enemy, "you can't escape your fate."

His other hand, the one not gripping the knife, held a barbed metal hook with a coil of wire attached to the end, pinched between his fingers. "If you struggle," he said softly, "it will only make things worse." Ignoring the mingling smells of defecation, sweat, blood and fear the bekko got to work, applying his craft with all the careful consideration and precision of an artisan, keeping Kash alive as he sliced out his tongue. "It is said we should pass from this realm without that which has plagued us in life," he tossed the bloodied piece of meat away, "fitting, don't you think? Ah," a finger to the lips, "don't try to answer that." The hook went down next, sliding and scraping though the newly opened orifice, deep into Kash's body.

At last, Silvertooth stood up and took a few steps back. "My uncle was right: He's not a murderer. But I am," a sick grin, "and I'm going to enjoy this. Palace security is very tight, no doubt they are capturing these actions and words even now to be recorded for eternity. Perhaps on nights when I think of my pain I can see your own death again to lull me into dreams of better days." He tugged lightly on the string, pleased. "Goodbye, Kash Wilson."

The last thing that was heard from Kash Wilson was a terrible scream of pain and horror as his internal organs were pulled from his mouth by a barbed hook. The remains of his corpse and the bits of flesh which had once inhabited it, lying in a puddle of mixed shit, blood, sweat and tears, was taken and put aboard the next garbage scow outward board into the Xiscapian system. The remains of Kash Wilson were spat out of the ship into deep space along with many tons of other trash to float into the star that lit the Motherland of Xiscapia, to be incinerated. The stains were hosed away from the Outer Courtyard, and the pistol sent along to General Caedo at his new position on Pamp, who elected to keep it for novelty's sake. All over the Kitsune Empire citizens rejoiced at the news of the death of the Communist dictator and the liberation of two worlds which had been held under his iron rule for so long.
Finally, at long last, after a decade of fighting, alliances, treaties and treason, Kash Wilson and the Universal Unity of Calaverias were dead.