NationStates Jolt Archive

7km off Garmidian Coast

"Careful with that idiot!" A supervising smuggler onboard La Independencia del Mar snapped at woman clumsily handling the white powder on a table, trying to break down bricks and separate clumps. A source of unimaginable pleasure for its users, crack cocaine, the white powder extracted from the coca leaves of the Zagorias Federation. The cargo ship itself was flagged under the Federation, and its corrupt government would not lift a finger to stop illicit drug operations down under its protection. It was now around 11:30 PM...

The destination of the product this time would be the Democratic States of Garmidia. The inner cities of the country of some two hundred sixty-six million would provide quite a number of buyers, and strong currency which would find itself in the hands of the cartel bosses. This of course, would not be interrupted by the Zagorian government, which received its benefit from the smugglers through bribes. General Augusto Peña did not mind the extra dollars brought in by their operations.

"Pablo!" called out a supervisor to the captain, "how much longer? I need some sunlight." He said this in spite of many people working on their product, many were women, abused and forced through human trafficking by los carteles, these people would not see anything but the inside of the ship for several months. In the deck there were smugglers armed with Uzis and AK-47 rifles. But unknown to them there was a single person, a young man aged 22, who was supposed to be held captive on the ship but escaped custody when the guard watching over him tried some of the product being smuggled, lowered a life raft into the dark waters below, and went off towards the lit up port city, hoping to turn in the smugglers to the local government. He was in horrible condition and his clothes was well worn and dirty, he was unshaven, and most of all he had plenty of traces of crack cocaine on him.

The man was maneuvering his life raft with the absolute urgency of his life. If the drug dealers had caught him, he was dead meat. They wouldn't care, he would be tossed aside as a useless human being. And he thought about the others that were forcibly working for the drug cartels. So, he had to reach the Garmidian Port Authority. Or else.

He started panting as his life raft reached the sandy shoreline. It was on, probably only a matter of time before they realized he was missing. He ran as fast as he could, up the steep grass bank, over the fence, and towards a large building that held the words "GARMIDIA PORT AUTHORITY". He had made it. He banged helplessly on the door to the building, and a saw a lone Port Authority officer at the reception desk. The officer was startled and quickly opened the door to the scared, sobbing man. The Port Authority officer sat him down. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"There... there... drug...cartels...illegal..." The man couldn't even put his sentence together.
"Calm down." Spoke the Port Authority officer. "What's your name?"
"Cameron... Cameron Rodriguez."
"Okay, tell me what happened."
"I was taken captive. They, they are out there now. Cocaine... drugs. Smuggling."

OOC: Let's RP as our own people, you kinda didn't give me much to go on. ;)

IC: La Independencia del Mar idled slowly along the coast of the nation, with the ship's captain making all proper communications to the Port Authority, and all most of the armed guards going to sleep with a select few keeping an eye on their captives and the waters around the vessel.

The amount of crack cocaine on board the ship was enormous. The profit which could be made from selling the cargo would be in the millions. Garmidia would be one stop along the route selling the "white sugar" as it was affectionately called by users.

OOC: Sorry about that. :D

IC: "Alright. Stay here. Hey, Boss! Get out here!" Shouted the Port Authority officer.
A tired, semi-fat man came stumbling out of the TV room. "What, what?" He asked in a tired manner.
"Apparently, there is a fucking drug cartel out there, smuggling, we got to fucking move man."
He was wide awake now.
"Okay, but before we do anything, let's just go out there now and have a look."
"Okay. Bring some pepper spray just in case... and a gun."

They stepped outside into the cold night. They walked over to the door made into the fence and slid down the steep embankment. The walked down the beach... directly to the path of the cartels. They walked briskly, their breaths making short puffs of white air. "Got binoculars?" The Port Authority officer asked.
"Umm, crap ones, but they should do the job." Replied the Boss, while slipping out skinny binoculars from his lower back pocket. The Boss looked through them. "Wholy fuck."
"What, what?"
"Take a look for yourself."
The Officer looked through the binoculars to see the dark outline of a large ship quite a ways off the cost.
"Well, that ship has been making all the right comms to us." The Officer said.
"No, no. It's a smugglers ship. Get the GSPD (Garmidia Special Police Department) down here and GPASO (Garmidia Port Authority Special Officers) and someone from the Navy down here. But tell them to be silent. No lights flashing or whatever."
"You really think it's a smugglers ship?"
"I'm sure."

15 Minutes later
"I'm sure it is." Explained the Boss to a GPASO and Naval officer, in the planning room. A large team, possible 20-25 armed men stood inside the Port Authority building, discussing a plan. 7 men remained outside, on the beach, keeping an eye on the ship.
"Yeah, so am I." Explained the Naval officer, who had been quiet until now.
"Sitrep, guys?" Asked a GPASO Policeman into his communications device.
"Still no movement from the ship." Replied someone from the beach.
"Roger that, out. Alright, make sure you still make perfect contact with the ship. Don't raise any alarms, if they ask something, you reply with the question. Communication as usual." Ordered the GPASO officer, to the two lone Port Authority officers. The rest of the PA men were on there way down, as well as extra armed policemen.

"Hit me."
"Hit me."
Two cards, an eight of spades and a three of hearts. Alan Ruiz and Carlos Fonseca played a simple game of Twenty-One, with Zagorian Quenos, petty change, being bet. They flip they cards, and Alan had a Queen of hearts.

"Thank you!" he claimed eagerly, dragging paper bills and some change towards him from the table.

"Again?" asked Carlos.

"No, we really should get back to our spots. They'd kill us if they saw us slacking off," replied Alan.

Alan and Carlos stood up from their chairs, and grabbed their two weapons, and Uzi sub machine gun and an AR-15 assault rifle respectively. They also put on their balaclavas and made their way up to the deck of the ship, the open air.

"It's freezing," said Carlos, taking note of how much colder it was in Garmidia than in their native country.

"Pussy," replied Alan, "I've been to worse. There's this country called the Snowflake."

"Mentiroso," said Carlos, "liar."

"No lie!" interjected Alan, "The Snowfields of the f*cking Snowflake. It was so damn cold I think I was freezing my balls off."

"Please, you're bad at lying."

"Suite yourself, believe me if you want."

The two men continued looking off the ship, towards the shore, staring at the lights of the city in the night. After a few minutes the temperate finally overcame their comfort, and they walked back inside the ship. Almost immediately, the captain began to increase power to the engines, and the cargo ship slowly but surely began to pick up a little speed towards the Garmidian port. He continued radio transmissions, and noted to an aide that it was just another day at work.

"They're moving towards the port, over." An officer on the beach said through his communications device.

"Okay, move into position. You know where. There's no way they're not armed, so be prepared." The GPASO officer, who's name was Michael Survaes, according to his Police badge laid out on the table. He sighed for a moment.

"So.. So, you're raiding?" Asked the Port Authority officer.

"If it turns out our suspicions are correct, which they most probably are. You got guys with guns right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we'll need to use them as well."

"Okay."

5 Minutes Later

The GPASO officers, GSPD officers, Naval servicemen and regular Port Authority officers had taken their positions up in the Port, in and around the area where the suspected ship was slowly making it's way closer.

There were snipers taking positions on and around shipping crates and by small concrete walls in the Port of Lockland, ready for any sort of firefight between themselves and smugglers who were most probably armed. Night vision goggles were required as it was very early in the morning, about 1:30 AM.

The Boss was sitting in the Port Authority room with the P.A. Officer, and the man who had been taken captive had been taken to a nearby hospital.

"We've been waiting 10 years for this." The Boss exclaimed as he sat and took out a cigarette.

"Remember the last time?" The Officer asked.

"Sure do. Pussies surrendered once they saw us."

"Aha, yeah." But the mood soon turned to a somber one.

"But I have a different feeling about tonight." Said the Boss in a dark voice.

"Alan! Carlos! You lazy a**holes!" cried out a man from across the hallway.

"Ahh," began Carlos, cutting off the supervisor, "No te preocupes, we were just seeing the difference from outside and in here." Alan's face grimaced from the stupidity of his partner's excuse.

"Get back to your posts you lazy f**ks!" yelled the supervisor, his face turning red from rage of being played for an idiot.

"Yes sir!" called out Alan, walked backwards quickly before turning around and dashing through the door. He and Carlos were back outside in the cold night air, Uzi and AR-15 in hand, with the ship right outside of port.

"Just keep an eye on things," said Alan, "if we look really vigilant maybe we might get promoted."
Carlos chuckled at Alan's remark, and looked outside at the many little lights that decorated the city and the port. However, one of the lights he looked at was cut off by a black silhouette. It disappeared against the night sky once it moved away from the street light it blocked.

"Alan, you see that?" asked Carlos.

"See what, what?" replied Alan.

"I think I saw someone there," answered Carlos, pointing in a direction off to starboard.

"Maybe it was just a port worker, I mean come on, its cold out but I doubt that means no one would be outside."

"I don't know, I have a bad feeling about this," said Carlos. He carefully took aim with his AR-15 out into the distance where he saw the shadow moving...

OOC: I RP'd your guys just for this one post, not too intensively though.

"Fuck." Whispered an armed GPASO officer. "I think they saw me."
"He's aiming a weapon!" Whispered a GSPD officer into his Comms device.
"Take him down!"

Three quick shots rang out from the dark port on that cold, early Friday morning. It would be the beginning of something major for both nations involved.
But the cops didn't know that when the firefight broke out.

Shots were being fired from everywhere, backup was on the way, and the cops were making a slow advance towards the boat.
"Did you kill him?" Asked a cop from somewhere in the port, which was constantly being lit up by flashes from guns.
"I don't know! But there are other armed fucks on that boat!"

"Backup ETA 5 minutes, Base over."
"Roger Base, Sgt. Dameson over. Be advised there is a shootout as we speak."
"Roger that, out."

"Shit. I told you." Said a surprisingly calm Boss in his seat, smoking a new cigarette.
"Fuck, let's go and help the cops." Replied the officer, moving to open the door to go out to the scene where the shooting was happening.
"Okay." The Boss fumbled around and dropped his lighter. He picked it up, stumbled out of his seat and the two Port Authority officers grabbed weapons. Only light weaponry, the Boss having an M9 Pistol and the officer a Sig Sauer P226.

He was aiming his weapon, not really thinking of the consequences that would follow. A few flashes from the port, and a few noises sounding like zip, zip, zip with a nasty, grotesque sound accompanying the gore of Carlos' arm being shot off, with a bullet clipping his shoulder a another going through his chin and slashing through his throat. Carlos collapses in a bloody mess, nothing big or dramatic, just like a puppet whose strings were cut, falling forward and staying there. He didn't even grunt of make any noises beyond what was heard from the ship.

"F**k!" cried out Alan, ducking down, and spaying Uzi bullets all over the air. He grabbed for his dead partner's AR-15, which was converted to fully automatic, and began spraying his weapon into the port.

The other armed men on the ship began taking positions in the bridge and in the deck, preparing for the police raid. The smart ones at least, almost six men with fully automatic weapons of various sorts came running into the open, spraying their bullets towards the advancing police officers from the upper deck of the ship. With four AR-15 rifles and two Mirco SMG's. The captain of the ship took cover in the bridge, making sure that he could not be taken out by overzealous snipers or sharpshooters.

A Sniper on a shipping container fired his weapon at a man on the ship. He couldn't be sure if he had killed him, because by now night vision goggles weren't necessary as the flashes from guns lit the port up. In the distance, armored vehicles carrying more armed backup were on there way.

"Get ready!" Shouted a GPASO officer, looking over his shoulder to his fellow policemen. One lay dead as the advancing officers came closer to the ship.

"Do it, do it!" Shouted the same GPASO officer. At the same time, He and two other GPASO and GSPD officers threw flash bangs into the ship. Shooting erupted and a second later a piercingly loud and blindingly bright explosion, one after the other filled the view and hearing of every policeman and most definitely the smugglers on that cold, early Friday morning.

It filled the view of the Boss and the Officer, who decided against helping the other policemen as they were not armored and has poor weaponry.

In the distance, two black vans were unloading 10 armed officers, who were making there way down to the port. The Lockland Port had not seen any action like this for 10 years, and even then it was poor compared to this. No doubt the news would be here very soon.

A blinding flash of light, and the bang which completely disoriented hearing crippled several gunmen on the ship. Two of them dropped their guns and fell to the floor in pain, others gripped theirs so hard they ended up pulling the trigger and spraying bullets into every direction. The large containers were lit up with little sparks that flew after being struck in various places by stray bullets. The gunmen were horrible fighters though, not following any sort of tactics or procedure, and a few not bothering to aim their weapons.

The captain of the ship, Pablo DeMesarro, crawled on all floors across the bridge, grabbing a dark case from under the ship's controls. He flipped it open, revealing its content: a single M1919 Browning .30 cal machine gun.

"Here," called out the captain to one of his guards holding an Uzi, "make yourself useful."

He slide the box to the man, who picked up the large weapon, which had two hundred fifty bullets hanging off a belt attached to it.

"Figure it out," ordered the captain.

The man and his two comrades took position in the bridge, aiming their weapons to the entrance door. The actual glass of the bridge was supposed to be bulletproofed, however they still tried to keep their heads down to avoid fire from the outside. A basic human fear, not to trust something so commonly broken, as glass.

The men who charged outside would most likely be cut down by the authorities shortly, and those inside were not expected to put up the most impressive fight either. They had shock on their side, their adversaries probably did not sign up thinking they would get into a firefight such as this, but still they probably had the training to deal with it.

"Fucking shoot them!" Ordered a GPASO captain. Flashes from guns from about 5 meters away from the Port, the newly arriving policemen, put bullets in the two men who had just run outside.

"Oh fuck!" Shouted a GSPD officer.

"What?"

"Fucking media!"

"Son of a bitch! Don't let them anywhere near here!"

"Yes sir!" Two policemen ran away from the Port, towards the white WMBN - World Media Broadcasting Network van speedily coming towards the port.

Suddenly all hell broke loose. Someone on the ship was heavily armed. Sprays of bullets hit the Port floor and crates. One officer was struck.
"What the fuck!?" Shouted a GPASO officer into the extremely loud noise.

"Get our fuckin' snipers on to them!"

A Sniper, a fair distance away, on some sort of large box, fired four shots into the ship: One into the entrance, another to the main deck, and two into the walls of the ship.

World Media Broadcasting Network
BREAKING NEWS

LOCKLAND PORT SHOOTOUT

With details sketchy at the moment, it appears there is a massive shootout between officers from the Garmidia Port Authority Special Officers, the Garmidia Special Police Department and some sort of armed men on a large ship. Officers are not releasing any details at the moment.

Updates soon.

The gunmen onboard the ship sprayed from makeshift cover of the metal containers on the deck. AR-15 assault rifles and Uzi submachine guns, and the Garmidian police, were deafening the night with gunshots, and the lack of tracer rounds from the smugglers meant that the bullets they fired would not reveal their positions. Only the muzzle flashes could be seen from the ship, lighting it up like a Christmas tree.

However, that changed once the machine gun went off. Every five bullets streaked a brilliant green across the night sky, the heavy .30 caliber bullets penetrating any kind of cover the police would be hiding behind.

"Fuck, more vans!" swore the machine gunner. He hadn't noticed that the white van, with its antenna and communications arrangement, was a noncombatant. To him it may as well have been a police van. He positioned himself and took aim with the Browning M1919, depressing the trigger until the light machine gun jumped from recoil. Around ten heavy bullets flew to the white van in the port...

Zip!

A nasty crunching noise, the machine gunner looked back to see the corpse of his captain who had moved his head up and another man lying on the floor, bleeding from his chest. The captain was headless. Two kills, one bullet.

The machine gunner was frightened, but still he held down the trigger aiming down the police officers approaching the ship.

There were eleven dead gunmen, and only four still alive on the ship, behind good cover and being supported by their machine gunner. The bridge had the machine gunner and one man armed with an AR-15 rifle modified to full auto. At the stern of the ship, fluttered the blue-white-blue civilian ensign of the Zagorias Federation.

"Oh fuck! They've fired at the Media truck!" Shouted an officer.

"Shit. Fuck."

"Sir, this is Officer Reamazez. No-one from the media truck has been killed, but one has been injured."

"Okay. Good. Get him to a hospital, and get prepared for a full out fucking assault." Replied the Captain as Machine gun bullets flew over his head. Three policemen lay dead.

On that note, the Captain, Captain Jackson Diless, unloaded an entire clip on the ship. Half of it went to the suspected position of the Machine gunner, but with no result. Bullets still hailed down on the officers.

"Everyone, unload entire clips! Move forward under cover! Snipers, shoot your entire fucking loads! Fucking make hell on that godforsaken ship!" Shouted Captain Diless.

And on that note, hell broke lose. From the second he stopped talking, entire clips were laid down on the ship. The snipers didn't stop shooting, and officer advanced fast and forward. Four lay dead at the end of the massive assault in which many officers were able to gain a foothold nearest to the ship.

"Flashbangs again!" Shouted the Captain.

Simultaneously, two flash bangs flew into the almost wreckage of the ship.

And again, a massive bang and extremely bright flash filled the port's dark night.

World Media Broadcasting Network

LOCKLAND PORT SHOOTOUT

Immediate update: Shots have been fired at the WMBN convoy, injuring a cameraman. Some sort of massive assault is taking place, the area has been cordoned off, people evacuated, shots still being fired. Ambulances have arrived.

Updates soon

[OOC: Have begun a WikiStates page for this. (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/2009_Lockland_Port_shootout) Feel free to help. It's also Main Page news. (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/Main_Page) ]

OOC: Cool, we can add on to that later.

IC: Onboard the ship, the defensive shooters were loosing hope and fighting less and less as one by one they ran out of ammo, or they had been hit by police rounds.

"I'm out!" cried out a man behind a metal container. The second he called out, he was screaming in pain, disoriented by flashbangs which detonated not even four feet away from him. He was on the floor, out of action, and even so another man looking in that direction was blinding by the bright light. He continued spraying his rifle until he ran out of ammo as well.

The rest of the gunmen threw down their weapons, and jumped overboard in a last ditched effort to escape.

The machine gunner, anxious not to be overrun, continued firing. And then, all in an instant, it ended with a single sniper bullet in between the eyes.

Two men on board the ship, disabled, two in the water, twelve dead smugglers, and about thirty or so prisoners held captive below deck, were present on the ship.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get on the ship?" Asked a GPASO officer. Most of the firing had stopped, some police officers were still firing tracer rounds onto the ship.

"Fuck." Whispered the Captain. Then he had a thought. "The air force..."

"This is Captain Diless. Get the air force in here, helicopters, whatever. We need to board that damn ship." Said the Captain in to his comms device.

"Roger that. We will contact them, let you know of any information on when they can be there, over."

"Hurry up, out!"

The Police were at the edge of the port now. Sporadic shots were fired at the ship.

5 Minutes later

"Captain Diless, the Air Force have dispatched a MH-60 Seahawk to Lockland Port. 9 Garmidian marines on board, ETA 7 minutes, over."

"Good. What about us? Do we get on the ship, over?"

"You'll most probably have to wait until they actually connect the ship to the port so your teams can get on. But that probably won't be necessary, out."

Lockland Air Force Base 4, Lockland City, Garmidia

The MH-60 Seahawk had been in service for 4 years. Relatively new.
Captain Frank Kambre was in charge of the 9 man Garmidian marine team dispatched to Lockland Port to search the remainder of the smugglers ship.

He and his 9 man team were in the cargo area of the ship, and slowly but surely, the helicopter lifted off into the dawn sky.

In the water by the ship swam the two men looking for safety. It was dreadfully cold, and neither counted on how low the temperature was. Infact jumping seemed like a pretty good idea while under fire.

Now, the question was, to turn back or to keep going. To turn back was to fall under certain custody and imprisonment and/or death for slaying local police. To keep swimming was near certain death, but not at the hands of strange foreigners, only to the cold ocean which had enveloped them.

They kept going...

All fire had ceased from the ship, and the two gunmen still on board had dropped their weapons and motioned to surrender, hands held up high in the air.

The Air Force helicopter flew over the ocean towards the ship. It was silent on board, until...

"Sir, do you see that?" Asked Private Ryan Thomason.

"What?"

"Those two people! Looks like they're swimming away from the ship."

The 9 man team continued looking at the two men for another 10 seconds.

"This is Captain Kambre. Could you confirm two men possibly jumped from the smugglers ship?" He asked into his comms device.

Meanwhile on the ground, Captain Diless was assessing the situation.
"Two men have surrendered on the ship. The Air Force should be able to-"

"Captain Diless this is Base, with a query from the Air Force. Could you confirm two men jumped from the ship?"

Diless looked around, and moved to the edge of the port.

"Hold on a sec." He replied.

He moved around the edge of the port, when his eyes caught sight of two men swimming away in the ocean, quite a ways away from the ship.

He switched his comms device on. "I can't confirm they jumped, but I see them. I'm almost certain they are from the ship, but again, I can't confirm they actually jumped."

"Roger that. Naval dispatch says they have a small rescue boat en route to the men. ETA 15 minutes."

Diless kept looking at the men, wondering if they would survive 15 minutes in the freezing cold ocean.

It was now 8:30 AM on Saturday morning.

"Fuuuuck," muttered one of the surrendering smugglers under his breath.

The man surrendering next to him, head down looking at his feet, looked at him and asked, "What?"

"We've got like thirty-two people in the fucking ship. We're fucking human traffickers, smugglers, killed some cops..."

"Yeah?" replied the other man sarcastically.

"We're fucked."

They both chuckled a little at the last statement, both of them were very nervous and waiting for the very worst.

In the ocean, it had not taken long for hypothermia to kick in. One smuggler simply couldn't take it anymore, and he slipped under the surface. He drowned very quickly, and about six minutes after the second one lost consciousness and died.

Below the deck were thirty two frightened people, mostly young women, who were kidnapped and forced to work for the cartel. How they ended up in their situation was nothing new in the Zagorias Federation, and it was a story all of them would be telling to the country which had just taken out their captors.

The Helicopter hovered over the ship. The door was wide open in the helicopter, and the 9 Garmidian Marines made it on to the Zagorias Federation ship.

They were swift in moving along the decks of the ship.

Then they came upon the two surrendering men. Three Marines approached them while another two stood in front with their guns pointed at the smugglers heads.

The men were arrested and taken into police custody.

But then came the search of the rest of the ship.

"Alright, Tavarez, Thomason, Jackson, Karm, search the bottom floors. Myself, Gordon, Pann, Inguion and Raymond will search this and the rest of the upper floors. Got it?" Ordered Captain Kambre.

"Yes sir." Replied the 8 other Marines in unison.

John Tavarez led the search of the lower floors. They searched the cabins, found nothing except a few porn mags and one loaded gun. (OOC: I'll assume the majority of drugs are below the cabin levels.)

Then they went downstairs. This is when it became something much more than a shootout.

The marines were relaxed as they entered the floor below the cabin levels, but then their eyes laid rest on the 32 hostages.

"Oh FUCK!" Shouted one Marine.

"Oh shit." Said Tavarez, obviously shocked by the immediate discovery.

"Alright, get them out of here! Now now now!"

Even the huge amount of drugs to the right of the hostages was nothing compared to the discovery of hostages.

"Captain! Get here now! Lowest floor!" Shouted Tavarez in to his comms.

1 minute later Captain Kambre came down the stairs.

"Wholy son of a bitch."

OOC: I'm presuming your nation is mostly whites, from the pictures on your Wikipage and a history from Great Britain.

IC: There was a lot of crying, and the air was thick with the smell of drugs and the chemicals being used in them. The hostages, mostly mestizo, though there were six whites, wore barely any clothes at all, and most had some of the "white sugar" stuck on their clothing and skin.

They obviously had not bathed since they were on the ship, and were in poor health. The only ones who spoke English were the white ones... And one of them was a Garmidian national...

"Help," began the Garmidian girl, no older than 17, in a frail voice, "please..."

She was breathing erratically, as were most of the other hostages. There were twenty six women, and six men. All within the age group of 15-24.

From the moment the Garmidian Marine team found out the girl was a Garmidian national, it had become a political issue, for the ship was flagged under another country. There was only so much the Marines could do, get the hostages off, go back home, and then the rest was up to the Government.

It was 12:05 in the afternoon when President of Garmidia Sam Philips received his first official phone call about the crisis. He had been watching the news, but was unaware of the current political situation unfolding before his very eyes.

"Hello?" He answered the phone.

"Sir? It's Jack. I take it you've already heard about the situation at Lockland?"

"Yeah, the shootout and everything."

"No, no.. the other situation."

"Sorry?"

"There were hostages on board. And, sir, one of them was a Garmidian national.."

The President sat still for a moment.

"And sir, the ship was flagged under the, ah, Zagorias Federation."

The President was quieter again.

The hostages were escorted off of the ship by the Marines, who then left them in Police care. The group remained mostly quiet, presumably from their current medical state. There were a few words muttered in Spanish, some quiet words swearing and cursing la policia nacional, la guardia nacional, and el jefe Augusto Peña.

The Garmidian girl (OOC: you can make up a name for her, I'm feeling way lazy right now) spoke up, facing who she guessed was the highest ranking officer among them.

"My family," she began softly, her voice breaking, "they're still there."

She seemingly gestured off towards the ship, but more off to the distance, "The country. The police kidnapped us, and they traded me and these other people for money. But they left my family behind... And, before I left, they shot my father to show how serious they were."

She explained how the trip was supposed to be a family vacation to some exotic land. Her parents were thrill seekers, and a tropical country called Zagorias seemed as a perfect destination. Then as her story goes, one night their small motel was broken into, and there was screaming and gunshots. Then the men in policia nacional uniform placed them in handcuffs, threw them into the backs of their police SUV's, and drove off towards a small Zagorian port, where the only people around had assault rifles and were dressed in paramilitary gear. That was when the police shot her father for his insubordination, and they exchanged the girl for a briefcase full of foreign currency.

President Philips was getting up to date information about the crisis.

"We must contact Zagorias." He requested, and the SecDef quickly allowed communiques through.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE TO THE FEDERATION OF ZAGORIAS

I'm sure you've heard of the tragic events at Lockland Port in Garmidia, allegedly by your own government. The ship is flagged under your country, and one lady -- who was hostage on the ship -- claims your police threw her in to the back of a van and she ended up at the port, on the ship, as they had traded her for money and shot her father. Not only if this is true is it disgusting, but serious consequences will follow.

President of Garmidia
Sam Philips

Palacio Nacional, Buena Suerte
Zagorias Federation

The dictator sat on a large leather sofa, inside of an office accompanied by two Special Guard soldiers. He wore his khaki military uniform, not his parade uniform as he was took pictures and appeared in public in, but his tactical uniform. Just khaki, with shoulder ranks and sleeve insignia, and a peaked cap featuring the triangle Seal of the Federation. General Augusto Peña took a drag from his fine cigar, exhaling while lowering it back down to the armrest. The room was decorated with many paintings of famous artists from around the world, several of which were commissioned to make portraits of the the dictator himself. The General had his taste for expensive things.

His guards were fanatical and well trained, and armed with brand new Barrett REC7 assault rifles, and in a drawer the General kept handy his Pfeifer Zeliska .600 Nitro Express revolver, made in Austria.

He got up as a man knocked on his door, and entered, giving him news of a telegram...

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n220/Neo-Erusea/120px-Seal_of_Zagoriassvg.png
Official Communique of the Federation

We take no responsibility for the course of action taken by the owners of the ship, be it flagged under this country or not. Furthermore, you are in no place to come and approach the leader of a foreign country in such a manner. The people of the Federation are resources of the Federation, and as long as I am the boss of this nation I will do with them as I see fit.

You would be surprised how much farther you can get in the world with about a million Garmidi than a single Garmidian girl.

El jefe de la federación zagoriana
Augusto Peña

Official Communique of Garmidia

We will approach whoever we like, however we like. We hold no respect to a dictator as yourself who values money over a life, let alone one from our own nation.

Bank accounts in Garmidia linked in anyway to your country/government have been frozen, as well as any and all aid Garmidia may be sending to the Federation of Zagorias. Should you wish relations between our countries to resume at a normal, non hostile environment, hand over those who support such acts by the police, and hand over those police responsible for the kidnapping of foreign or local nationals in your nation. If not, we will have no choice but to impose an embargo.

Signed
President of Garmidia
Sam Philips

The guards and the messenger could clearly see their supreme leader becoming annoyed as his eyes skimmed through the message. His face twisted a little, grimacing at what he had been written. He knew his nation would be loosing a bit of money in Garmidia. His nephew had a bank account with nearly a million Garmidi deposited. General Peña inhaled deeply, and then let the air out slowly, putting down the telegram and picking up a phone...

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Official Communique of the Federation

I do not appreciate your meddling in the affairs of a sovereign power. I will not hand over any Zagorian countrymen, proudly serving in the uniform, to your country, especially not because some Garmidian turistas got hurt.

Also, I am the one who personally orders the forced disappearances of those who break Zagorian law. I however, do not care how the persons are disposed of. The fact that my men traded them for money, makes me want to find the officer who formulated the idea and promote him.

El jefe de la federación zagoriana
Augusto Peña

Government Square, Buena Suerte

The air in area was tense. Traffic drove by slowly on la carretera, the highway, nearby, and onlookers have gathered around as a family of four was gathered up. Two young children, a boy and a girl, a teenage boy, and a mother were lined up and tied to poles. The two children screamed loudly, crying for their mother who was blindfolded with a little Garmidian flag. Beads of sweat rolled down the older boys face, and fear was overcoming him as he shook nervously. The mother was crying helplessly just as her children were, and speaking English, which was not understood by any of the Zagorian onlookers.

The National Guard had lined up four soldiers about 10 meters away from the victims. The four whites tied up were again Garmidian nationals, and stood out from the relatively dark skinned mestizo population of the Federation...

The four soldiers were armed with FN FAL rifles, each with a full clip of 7.62x51mm bullets. There was one low ranking officer, standing behind the shooters, facing towards the victims. He wasn't exactly thrilled about his task, but he had a strong sense of country and was not hesitant to fulfill the wishes of his superiors.

"¡Preparan!" he began, "¡apuntar!"

The soldiers had their rifles ready, and took aim at their victims. The tension in the atmosphere was enormous, and some of the onlookers looked away from the scene. This event was being televised, and broadcasted on almost every news station.

"¡Disparan!"

With that, the soldiers unleashed hails of fully automatic fire onto the tied up victims. Heavy 7.62 mm NATO bullets shredded the tied up Garmidians, without discrimination. One of the two children was struck in the face by a projectile, leaving the little boy unrecognizable to those who saw him a few seconds earlier. The older boy was nearly torn in half as fourteen of the twenty bullets literally gutted him. The others were killed, and all of their blood leaked down into large, dark red puddles beneath them. Television crews looked on in shook, these killings were more brutal than recent public executions.

The soldiers simply walked away from their victims, allowing journalists and others to walk up, observe, and photograph the carnage...

OOC: WikiStates page for this. (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/2009_Garmidia-Zagorias_Federation_crisis)

This time there was to be no telegram, an embargo was obviously in place, and the President had ordered an immediate SecDef report on the state of the Zagorias Federation military.

"4,450,000 fanatics." Said the Secretary of Defense Jack Flaw to the President.

A small smile spread across the Presidents face.

"They're fucked. Outnumbered. 32,000,000 to 4,450,000." (OOC: Remember I go by Garmidia's numbers not Garimidia's numbers.)

"Sir, Numbers don't always win wars."

"Yes I know. And I never said we were going to war... yet. As much as I fucking want to."

"So what do you plan to do?" Asked Flaw.

OOC: Do we know who's going to win or are we just going by whatever the hell happens?

OOC: Where ever it goes....

IC: General Peña was walking with several other high ranking military officers, discussing the current situation involving Garmidia. They passed the exquisite garden of the National Palace, decorated with exotic plants, many of which can only be found in one other location in the world, and home to several types of rare tropical birds. The hallways featured large windows, bulletproofed, and numerous decorations of paintings and Zagorian banners. As they approached a room at the end of the hallway, the door featuring a very large Zagorian coat of arms above it.

Inside was a large rectangular oak table, dark and well polished, with cabinets full of maps, and several computers. And again, another large Zagorian coat of arms which could be seen on the wall behind where the General would be located.

"So what of their Army?" began Peña, in a very nonchalant voice.

"Active personnel number near 60 million sir. With about another 10 million reserves," replied an officer

"Sixty million? Are you sure? What's the population?" asked the General, loosing the aura of indifference in the conversation.

"They estimate, according to WikiStates, about two hundred sixty-six million."

"How the hell do they maintain a standing army with more than 25% of their population in it?" asked the General doubting the validity of the statements from the website.

"I'm not sure sir," began the officer, "most nations would collapse if one fourth of their population were full time soldiers. We are most likely dealing with a horrible war mongering nation sir. Their economy must survive on war."

"Well, we can probably expect to be going to war with them. Mobilize all National Guard units, and raise our combat readiness levels to wartime readiness. Have the National Police arrest all Garmidian nationals living within my borders. Make sure our air defense systems and Air Force are ready to intercept any aircraft which venture into our airspace..."

OOC: I go by Garmidia's numbers not Garimidia's numbers. Garmidia was left at about 9.8 billion when it was deleted.

edit: The Wiki page hasn't been updated in a while, I'll do that now.

OOC: I will be off the PC for a week :( So, i guess this is on hold?

OOC: I remember seeing Garmidia, when I sent it a telegram when I wanted to join Operation Trinity Glare.

Your population was not bigger than mine. I wouldn't even have thought about going to war against you if you had a 3 billion population advantage on me plus several allies =P

OOC: I remember seeing Garmidia, when I sent it a telegram when I wanted to join Operation Trinity Glare.

Your population was not bigger than mine. I wouldn't even have thought about going to war against you if you had a 3 billion population advantage on me plus several allies =P

:mad:

Lol, I can't remember what it was, I was pretty sure it was in the billion(s)? (Not that I'm trying to.. cheat.. here. Lol.) I'll put it to about 8-900 million. It was definitely around there.

Ha, what a failure Operation Trinity Glare was. I'll update this ASAP.

OOC: 800-900 million sounds about it. I think you were off by a couple digits =P

Anyways, I'm sure this will go farther than Trinity Glare ;)

OOC: 800-900 million sounds about it. I think you were off by a couple digits =P

Anyways, I'm sure this will go farther than Trinity Glare ;)

I haven't been able to get an update up, my PC is stuffing up. Soon though :D

Bump for Garmidia. Back from vacation btw.

OOC: Sorry for the long wait.

"Sir, war is a possibility." Said Jack Flaw, the Secretary of Defense. "But do we want to risk another war?" He asked, as him, Philips and a few others were in an emergency meeting.

Philips sighed. "No-one wants war. It would just help if they would fucking accept diplomacy or something."

"I... I really don't think they're going to." Said Flaw.

"Well yes, I know that. Well, get all units ready. We're preparing for war." Said Philips.

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n220/Neo-Erusea/nicawar4.jpg
All too common scenes throughout the nation

The Zagorian military readiness was unprecedented, with soldiers now being spotted on almost every corner, ready at any moment to begin setting up defensive positions or to be shipped off to any fronts the Garmidians would open.

The beaches already were established with makeshift defenses, mostly composed of sandbag fortifications, and other areas picked out to set up machine gun nests. Not necessarily ready, but could be readied in less than half an hour. The Zagorian National Guard Air Force was flying patrols everyday over the coastline and Zagorian waters to the best of their ability, and propaganda against Garmidia had been placed everywhere, on billboards and on posters.

Another group of Garmidian nationals were summarily gathered and executed publicly, this time in the presence of el jefe General Augusto Peña himself.

"Okay sir, this is the state of their entire military. They've got 900,000 active plus 3,550,000 reserves." Said Flaw.

Philips nodded. "I want 12,000,000 mobilized or known about the situation by the end of today. That's Army, Marine Corps, Air Force and Navy. Get 2,000,000 of the reserves out, cover all our population areas for the time being. What of there arms?"

"Their National Guard is using IMI Galil's, FN FAL's, M24's, M60s, Panzerfausts and M1 Garand's. They're the usual 60's and 70's, possibly 80's weaponry."

"How does that stack up against us?" Said Philips, feeling confident.

"Not good, sir."

"Good." Said Philips.

General Peña traveled through the capital city Buena Suerte in his black armored limousine, surrounded by a motorcade of Policia Nacional. The vehicle's heavily tinted windows were made able to resist armor piercing shots from short range, and are reflective, preventing anyone from seeing the General from the outside.

The motorcade passed by an old Spanish cathedral, where the National Guard was present making preparations and handing out rations to civilians. On top of a nearby hospital were two large Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft cannons, whose barrels could be seen poking out skyward from bystanders viewing from ground level. The Zagorias Federation did not boast a vaunted air defense system, employing many old American SAM systems and a mix of some old Soviet and European weapons to defend the skies.

The Zagorian Air Force had protested setting up so many weapons systems, noting that many of their own aircraft would be in the line of fire. Peña's plans though called for the use of the Air Force over the coastline and countryside, while concentrating air defenses in the cities.

At the same cathedral, a large M60 Patton tank sat idly under a camouflage tent and behind several boxes of supplies, with its crew sitting on top smoking cigarettes. A truck carrying fifteen fully armed National Guard soldiers passed by, dropping off the men at the cathedral, and then continued down the road.

OOC: Lots of school stuff on on the moment, I'll get a reply on next week.

Bump Because Users Must Post

OOC: I feel like an asshole for not replying to this. *facepalm*

Plans for the invasion were being drawn up already. Jack Flaw called it a successful plan, but no battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy. Congress was yet to decide on any course of action, but it appeared as if the Philips government was going to go ahead with combat operations in the Zagorias Federation anyway, and the President had the power to do such things, as the President is the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces in Garmidia.

OOC: It's alright.

IC:

"President of Garmidia to Deploy Armed Forces to Zagorias Federation..."

General Peña read aloud in a heavily accented English the headlines of a news webpage from the World Media Broadcasting Network. He rolled the mouse wheel downwards with his middle finger, skimming through the page and viewing random stock pictures of the Garmidian military. Their soldiers looked formidable, armed to the teeth and armored like tanks.

Zagorian soldiers, by comparison, were sometimes issued lighter vests which would probably barely stop a 5.56mm round anyways, and old Israeli kevlar combat helmets that they were supplied for free. The General knew his men were fierce fighters from all their skirmishes on the borders and especially with drug cartels, and he was sure that in the heavy heat and thick Zagorian jungles they could cause enough Garmidian casualties to make the war too costly or loose popular support back home. However, he knew the Garmidian public probably expected to see him hung or have his head on a platter for the harsh public executions of Garmidian nationals. He was beginning to regret that action a little.

"We can be expecting those pigs on our doorsteps very soon, compañeros," began Peña, "I want the Navy on full alert, patrolling the waters for any invasion forces that may be on their way. Also, I want the Air Force flying sorties twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week from this point forward. We will not be caught unprepared for anything they throw at us. Am I understood?"

"iSí señor!" replied his subordinates in almost perfect unison. They scrambled about, making phone calls and taking off from the building, readying the last components of the Zagorian National Guard for war.

The President stood before a large crowd of press explaining that to stop any military action now was up to the Zagorias Federation. He explained his casus beli, the execution of Garmidians, the drug trade, the human trafficking, while at the same time, at Army Bases Hector, Bravo, Charlie, Bastion, Selicoir, Locket, Hotrod, Doherty, Gamma, Ray and Midia, most of the remaining troops who hadn't been briefed on their mission were being briefed now by army commanders of the plan of the invasion of the Zagorias Federation. The Zagorias Federation had just three hours left before the ultimatum was up and Garmidia launched war.

However, aircraft with the 3,500,000 taking part in the invasion were already beginning to load up. Ships were also being used, and armored LAV carriers were popular. They did not expect the Zagorias Federation to be an easy fight, nor did they expect it to be lightly defended. Pilots and naval commanders were being briefed on a possible sortie campaign, and air campaign. The ground invasion tactics were pretty clear.

Lt. Col. Jason Wrent of the 7th Battalion was one of the first to have his team prepped for the possible invasion. Everyone in the higher command was saying 'hypothetical' and 'possible' before using the word invasion, but they knew damn well and pretty much everyone taking part knew damn well war was about to happen in three hours.

Many at Camp Gamma in the heart of the State of Portan were crowded around the TVs watching President Philips make his live address to the nation on the crisis. But not most; most were calling their loved ones or taking time out to do simple things such as reading or even games, simple things which in three hours would seem a world away.

OOC: Spent awhile making a nice map for this thread, I don't feel like making an elaborate post right now.

Map of the Zagorias Federation (http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n220/Neo-Erusea/zagoriasmap.png)

IC: Three hours later....

OOC: Sorry, I am unable to get a reply up today. DEFINETLY tomorrow (hopefully), don't want to miss the big one :D

OOC: Semi-short post, short time.

The Garmidian Navy ships were nearing their marked locations in Zagorias Waters. It was 2:53 through the deadline, 7 minutes to go. Jet fighters and bombers, in their thousands, had departed Bases and Aircraft carriers for the Zagorias Federation. The DoD had decided on one of the biggest air campaigns seen in 30 years of Garmidian military history for the opening stages of this conflict.

2 minutes to go.

Lt. Col Jason Wrent was firmly locked in to the plane carrying him to Zagorias. He was right. Everyone knew war was happening.

1 minute.

The pilot of a Garmidian bomber looked to his side. Outside the skies were covered in black dots, Garmidian bombers and Jet fighters. He had fought in two wars, the Anacreon conflict and the Meqchistani conflict; both of which had used air power, but he had never seen anything like this before. Hundreds, thousands of aircraft.

10 seconds. 5 seconds.

Bingo. Deadline passed.

From this, the pilot saw smoke trails and flares of yellow come from the hundreds of black dots around him. They were missiles and bullets coming from the air armada, flying towards Zagorias land.

Garmidia's incursion had not gone unnoticed by Zagorian military forces. A small group of four MiG-29 Fulcrum air-superiority fighters lightly armed with four short range missiles each encountered the enemy airborne armada on radar.

The decision to engage, however, was obviously not the best in this case, as the enemy outnumbered them and their deaths would be in vain.

"Aguila Una," reported the lead aircraft, "Enemy aircraft on long range radar, we can't count how many of them are there. Repeat, Garmidian aircraft are approaching."

"Copy that Aguila," replied ground control, "Return to base immediately. You will meet up with other units and launch a counter attack against the invaders."

"Roger," said the pilot. His aircraft broke left, with the rest of his squadron following suite. They lit their afterburners and sped back to the mainland.

On the coast, Zagorias National Guard units had established light defenses focused on concealment and ambushes rather than large scale battles which they knew they could not afford. However, even though they were not in the open, they would not be safe from the enormous salvo launched from the Garmidian Air Force. Their missiles made quick work of whatever was not hidden well enough, and many Zagorian gun nests were blown into oblivion, limbs of men flying everywhere. The gore immediately ate away at the moral of survivors and other witnesses, and officers did their best to reassure their men that they would have their revenge.

Meanwhile however, the Zagorian Air Force scrambled about two hundred MiG-29's and MiG-21 Fishbeds to intercept the enormous Garmidian strike force. This venture put most of the nation's combat aircraft into harm's way, but the high command felt this was necessary to defeat the enemy Air Force. They flew out to the sea, armed with long-range missiles. They locked on to various targets, and fired.

Aircraft went down out of the skies. It looked like an old World War Two black and white film that the captain of a particular Garmidian bomber who'd managed to escape the missiles launched from the older Zagorias jets had seen a while back. He looked to his left and saw 9 aircraft get blown to pieces and fall out of the skies. Shit, he thought, and felt better at the fact that Jet fighters would be bought in to intercept any moment.

"Copy, launching now." Said the Captain of the GNS Centipede, a battleship of the navy. 2 minutes after the captain had uttered the words 'launching now', tomahawk missiles from the ship launched, and so did other Portan class battleships. Frigates, Warships and other armada vessels were invading Zagorias waters when the display of tomahawks launching in to the air.

"Roger that. Launching them." Said Captain Foley of the GMS-Ulysses, a GMS-Richard Lyell class aircraft carriers, replying to HQ. 7 Fighting Falcons and Raptors took off in pursuit of Zagorias navy ships.

Meanwhile, roughly 180 jet fighters comprising Fighting Falcons and Raptors began firing and intercepting the Zagorias Air Force planes, which had destroyed some 64 Garmidian Air Force bombers.

"Contact! Enemy fighters!" Called out Estrella 1, flying a MiG-21 Fishbed.

"All MiG-21 formations," began the ground controller, "Break from the fight and lower your altitude to engage enemy cruise missiles. Their cruise missiles are capable of avoiding our air defenses, and they are capable of dealing severe damage to our air defense and communications infrastructure. Do not let any escape! All MiG-29 formations, continue to engage the enemy bombers. Don't worry about the escorts, focus only on the bombers. For patria y libertad!"

As ordered, the Zagorian MiG-21 Fishbeds dropped altitude and immediately began engagement of the subsonic cruise missiles. They targeted the Tomahawks and pursued them relentlessly with short range missiles and guns. The MiG-29 Fulcrums remained fighting off the enemy bombers. The enemy fighters came within firing range, and with their missiles they took out fifty five of around one hundred MiG-29 Fulcrums in the volley. Zagorian pilots were relatively unskilled and were not trained to handle dogfights, and ground control knew this well. They continued to order their MiG's to bring down as many bombers as possible before they knew their inevitable destruction would occur.

11 of the 56 Tomahawks launched were shot down over the ocean in the ensuing carnage. "Engage! Engage!" Shouted a Jet fighter pilot. His jet and roughly 35 other jets stooped below to engage the MiG-21s. Another dispatch of 50 Raptor jets were fighting the MiG-29s.

Operation Sky Devil Command HQ, Dastin City, Garmidia

"Sir, as we can see, the bombers have begun bombing of the Zagorias Federation. Operation Overflow is underway." Said a senior commander to the Minister of Defense, Jack Flaw.

"Uhuh, and what about Operation Sea Hawk?" Flaw asked.

"That will begin in less than half an hour, sir."

"Good."

Meanwhile, over the skies of the Zagorias Federation, more missiles were launched at Zagorias fortifications.

OOC: Whoops forgot about this for awhile.

IC: "All units!" commanded the ground controller, "do not single out the escorts. The missiles and the bombers are top priority. Your deaths mean nothing if thousands more must die! Do not let the skies fall down upon your countrymen!"

The pilot of Estrella 1 disregarded the alarms blaring in the cockpit of the MiG-21 Fishbed he was flying. He locked on to a single Tomahawk and fired off a missile. He broke left and fired upon another cruise missile, before his plane was struck down by a Garmidian escort.

"Estrella 1! Estrella 1!" cried out a wingman, "We've lost out flight leader, I don't see a parachute!"

"Fuck," swore another pilot, maneuvering his plane to attempt to follow more Tomahawks while trying to avoid the same fate as his leader. He had barely any skills however, only having been trained how to take off, land, and fire his weapons.

Above them, the MiG-29 pilots engaged with their determined and highly trained adversaries. Many pilots chose to follow orders an engage as many bombers as possible, but a few disregarded those commands and chose to fight with the enemy Raptors.