Dacyira: Age of Strife(IC)

2114 A.C.
Esamira, Capital city of New Dawn

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Today finally came, today all of Esamira was in celebration, for today was Independence Day, Twenty Fives years after the Rebellions, Esamira has emerged as a Shining Beacon of Hope in this blood-stained Continent. From all across the country, millions gathered in the Capital City around in selected locations throughout as large screens were erected in public gathering zones. several squadrons of Sabres flew in delta formations and performed various air shows and stunts all over the upper parts of the city, and were met with booming cheers. From below, small military parades were held as the men and women of all branches marched around the streets, followed by columns of armored vehicles.

From within the Presidential Palace up high in the city, the recently elected President, Malcolm Barret, cleared his throat as he stood at attention as the camera crews surrounded him, he made last minute checks around his clothing, checking for any unsightly stains, he straightened his suit, brushed aside his cap, and nodded to the men, one of them counting down with his fingers."Three. Two. On. Go."

"My fellow Esamirans, on this day. it was a day of both Bloodshed, and Courage. on this day twenty five years ago, millions of lives were lost as the Rebellions begun. However, their sacrifice was not in vain. Although the struggle was great, the Old Empire's Shadow lingered no longer!" He paused for a brief moment. "When the smokes cleared, we began anew. A free nation was born, our nation. We have tasted Freedom for the first time. No longer were we slaves, no longer did we live in fear. One this day, our brave men and women were victorious! It is thanks to them, we honor them today, we honor those, both living and dead, for their sacrifice and service. We salute you, Gods bless you and us all." The Screens throughout the city flickered off as the Speech was done with. Festivities commenced all across the country.

-------------------------------

"I'd say a job well done, Mister President." said the Prime Minister, Lawrence Reed, as he stepped forward while the camera crews cleared the room. "Quite the morale booster."

"Why of course, my friend." the President replied. "I do what I must, for my people. I fear however, this peace won't last forever..." He paused for a moment and sharked his head. "But enough about that, how is your family doing?"

"The Wife's rather disappointed with me, It was quite a tradition for us and the kids." He replied with a sigh. "Sir, if it's not too much..."

"Well, we all deserve a break, especially today." Malcolm said as he place his hand over her shoulder. "We've done Esamira a great service in her defense. "He paused as he turn to the balcony, walking over and viewing the festivities below. "Our part is done here I'd say. I'm sure they would love your company. Best hurry before you lose them." He didn't say a word afterwards, and simply nodded in agreement with a smile, turned and left with great haste. "Thanks, Malcolm." He said before leaving out the door.

-------------------------------

Esamira, Western Border
All the country may seem collectively Joyous. However, it is quite different in the Border regions. The Esamiran Western borderlands pay witness to constant bandit raids, and the often rare occurrence of violence spilling over from the war-torn Dead Zone. Unlike the Valkurian DMZ, the Western Borderlands did not have massive fortification and bases stretching for miles, shielding civilians away from the horrors that were on the other side. Outposts, small garrisons and a single Military installation were all that stood between the locals, and their less then friendly neighbors.

Camp Epsilon
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The mood in the camp was much more calm and less disruptive then most cities. Then again, most soldiers posted in the Western border barely have time to relax for long periods. Small gatherings and parties were seen here and there, it wasn't on the scale as New Dawn however. There was a more pressing concern at the moment, as today was particularly loud over at the Dead Zone. One of the rival factions went to great lengths to strike the other that borders Esamira, this far off too. As per protocol, all personnel in the vicinity are to be combat ready in case they, nearby towns or Refugee Camps were to be caught in the crossfire.

"Attention!" An Officer shouted out to a Company of soldiers as they assembled into several rows of ten. From behind a Hunter slowly came to a halt, the roaring of it's engine dying down. A Natolian stepped out of the Passenger's side of the vehicle, both hands behind his back and stood next to the officer. "Ladies and Gents, as you may be aware, we're on high alert. The Dead Zone's in another nasty brawl, we're here to make sure they don't get us involved. Or get any ideas on making us a target." he paused a moment as he scanned each of the soldiers. "Have your gear ready within the hour. There's a possibility of a bloody fight in our hands, be it bandits or those crazies."

Esamira’s Coastal Water, New Dawn.

“To the incoming vessels, you are about to enter Esamiran waters, turn back at once!” Admiral Rickard smiled to the hail, but didn’t answer it. He didn’t answer it 2 years ago, neither did his admiral when he was a lowly captain 6 years ago. Every once in a while, Valkur liked to remind the Esamirans of their power and to send a little insult their way, a plane over their head, a fleet cruising dangerously close to their capital. They never did anything, of course, but the Esamiran also only watched them, helpless. This tradition came back from Esamira’s first day of independence. It had an army that had managed to resist the Empire, but its navy and air force were laughable, so they could only watch.

The UNVS Juggernaut and its carrier, the Undefeated, along with their escort, continued going along the same trajectory. They could see the glow of New Dawn with their eyes to their right, they could also see the form of the Esamiran fleet. “Think they’ll open fire this time admiral?” Rickard looked at the captain of the ship. Yeah, he only wished, it would force Mondal to finally do something else than sit on her ass all day without thinking of all the rebels, Rickard was after all part of the old guard, the old navy, the one that once made the Empire great. “Bah, if only. No, I’m quite certain this new ‘president’ of theirs is just going to ignore us, like his spineless predecessor did 2 years ago… Well, at least they realize they’re weaklings, which is intelligent of them.” Another call in the radio warning them to get out. Oh, they would, in a few hours, after they moved down the entire coast. The fleet was in defensive formation with a few planes up in the air as to protect the carrier, exactly the same pattern as the one they had the last time and the time before that.


United Nations of Valkur, Capital City of Praven, National Security Bureau HQ.

Allan Siegmeyer was in his office. Very large with monumental doors, this had been the office of an operation commander, a grade much higher than his, but with the reforms and the ‘New Personal’… Robots didn’t need office space, as such he could have all of this for himself. Next to the door, 2 agents, guarding. Next to the desk, another one, watching. Behind the Desk, Allan, thinking. And in front of the desk, a man, waiting, affraid. After a long silence punctuated by the tic tac of a great clock on the wall, Siegmeyer spoke. “Well, mister… I didn’t quite get your name actually.”

“Fuck you!” As expected, no cooperation. Oh well, this would speed things up for Allan at least, it was getting late and he was eager to look him. He crossed his hands in front of his chin and mouth. “Suit yourself. I will call you Suspect O2114-746, suspect for short. So, suspect, I your DNA reveals to me that you are the son of Jerome Grell, disappeared 25 years ago, and Ellen Kuri, disappeared 21 years ago. You are about 20 years old with no recorded citizenship, which makes you a criminal. You will tell me the faith of your parents and any people that may have sheltered you.” He looked at ‘suspect’, who looked back at him. A second later, suspect spitted in Allan’s face. Siegmeyer took a white Handkerchief hidden in his uniform’s sleeve and removed the stain from his face. “Alright. I take this as a sign of your non cooperation and will have to use different methods.” The man showed anger on his face. “Torture uh? That’s why I’m not part of your system asshole! You god damn fascist, forcing us to all be the same, all walk down the same fuckin’ road! We want freedom and we’ll get it!” Allan got up. The agents guarding the door approached suspect from behind to take him, the agent next to the table walked toward Allan’s coat hanging on a side of the room before handling it to him. “Torture? Oh no, we aren’t barbarians. We will bring you to a medical facility where doctors will put a chip into your brain. They link it to your pain center and stimulate it with electrical impulsion. “Allan got his coat on his back with the Agent’s help. Suspect looked horrified from the implications of this. “The amount of pain this generate apparently is unbearable, literally the worst pain that can ever be felt, all of this wire also prevents you to lose consciousness and this goes non stop since there is no medical assistance required to keep the subject, you, alive. Funny thing is, the pain section of your brain also never actually goes numb with this chip, so the pain lasts for ever and ever, 24/7. Another fact, did you know people need to sleep only because they get sleepy? Yep, don’t even need to feed you, that will be done by intravenous injections.” Allan was now good to go home.

“Well, now’s your last chance. Soon, I will go home and watch a game of hockey. At that moment, the only thing that will make the pain stop is you giving me information. Also, don’t think of lying, we’ll keep the switch on until the information can be confirmed. Anything else to add?” Suspect remained silent. A few seconds later, Siegmeyer raised his shoulders. “Suit yourself. Good luck with the fight for freedom and all of that.” The robotic agents took suspect and brought him out of the room. Why these people acted all high and mighty about all of this freedom thing was above Siegmeyer’s understanding. These people were like roaches. You shine a light on them and they run back into darkness, they feed of the bread crumps and actually didn’t do much damages… but nobody wanted to cohabit with roaches, they had to be exterminated. And against all the tools at the UNV’s disposal, these people could only do as a roach in front of an exterminator: Hide and try to come back later. “Shall I see you tomorrow Agent Siegmeyer?” It was the Agent that had handed to him his coat. Working for the government in such a post gave advantages, his work times were flexible, unless there was an emergency of course, but there never were any emergencies anymore, the slick robotic administration of the NSB taking care of everything as they happened. “Yes, as always. Good night.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FczCbk3zRn4

The bass drums rolled into a maelstrom of hate.

Distorted guitars blared and the blue notes of the bass spun

to the ground.

Gloom was now in an excited rage of ecstatic orgasms

too hot to handle.

"DAAAA"

"PRESS"

"SHAWN"

Their red bodies contorted to the asymmetry, one combinding his fist with anothers nose

crunch

The subways roared with hatred; their hatred was throwing streams of pennies at train tracks so they could be spat right back. In their violent abstraction there was a fervor involved, mixing sexual intensity with the primal violence associated with a half-baked form of cultivation. Unadultered and unsupervised the crowd spun, effeminately wreaking in idealistic entropy. Loose cannons pointed at themselves with the propensity to pull the trigger.

"OOH AAAH OOH AAHH!!"

And they could feel the explosion in their hearts.

---

Fall in love
Not in line.

The graphitti stained the wall. Impressed, the older man put his hand on the artists shoulder;

"You know, for some reason, if we wanted the fascists to stop bombing. . .The solution isn't bombing them ourselves. So good on ya'."

---

The blue sunset cascaded along the dark summer shore. Her bright blue belly had extended over the horizon while the transparent mosiac of frozen waters hung idle in the sky. Echos of her past were smuggled in the waves, and at any other time it would be murky and poison. But right now it was just yes.

It was yes.

And his blood shot eyes captured the enticing transformation of life to death, of inception to end, of A to B, of pain to pride
complete. And for a moment he could feel his symbolic being transformed from the effortless intensity of the Jackal Skins to just another warm body on the surface of the planet.

---

He spat out a few lines while the electronic drums slammed behind him. The lime light was blaring in this small gathering of friends, exchanging rhythms and lines off a cheap, hardly working beat box.

I'm willin' to
spillin' a dozen
a dime, keeps
my hard levity
with brevity
and time.

Caught red handed
like a fish in chains
your games don't bother me
I've got nothing to gain

I'm not a sheep you can finger
I've got a stinger and a propensity
to pull the trigger.

---

The crosshairs rested on the president.
Did I mention his hair stood up in goosebumps? Like there was any danger.

Nothing would change, they'd just replace him.
Fuck him.

You don't need to do this to change society. You're going to end up changing NOTHING.

NOTHING.

But you're used to that, aren't you?

You little fucker, you're a worthless piece of trash. Might as well waste someone they pay attention to.

Because life is worth more when more people with lives recognize you.

There's got to be another way. I've been beaten over the head. I've sat in. I've written what I know is wrong, I just need to change the world to fit with it.

And this is the only
only way.

With that, he pulled the trigger. The rifle fired, spiraling the thousands of newtons of force spinning in a spiral of fucking ginkcuf hate etah die eid motHERFUCKER!!!

The television screen buzzed for a second, glass shattered,

and then powered down.

Nothing changed.

---

Reggy looked at her picture and quickly snuck it away in his wallet. He shouldn't have done that right before this. In an attempt to detoxify her from his mind, he meditated gently in the still, lukewarm air. The operative came out and tapped him on the shoulder, "This is the last one you're doing Mr. Ishmael, correct?"

The bellow of his low-tenor answered in a detached tone, "For today. The light treatment, correct?"

The man nodded. Walking in he approached a scrawny, feeble looking character. Fingers twitching, twiddling his thumbs; maybe addicted to a stimulant and withdrawing.
"So, what're you in here for?"

"Fuck you."

"How's that working out for you?"

The prisoner grunted. Reggy retorted;

"You know, it's bad enough that the system exploits us, harms us, keeps us in ignorance. . .Even worse is that it warps us, turns us into petty, disguistingly viscious cowards. It's really comforting to you to blame 'the system', blame 'society', isn't it?"

He could sense the prisoner was trying to ignore him. "Like I don't know what you're all about." All of a sudden, Reggy's tone amped up past dial 11; "You're blasé expression does not hide your insecurities. You go from ideology to ideology each containing JUST enough truth to keep you hanging, but fragmentary enough to keep you from confronting the totality concretely. And in your 'radical' efforts you disillusion yourself to a spectacle of an impossible scenario."

Now he was holding his head. Hands clenched against his ears. Reggy tore a hand away and they both fell to the table. "Do you think you can squealch the truth? Do you really think that's the protection you need right now? Let me ask you; how does bombing the government keep the government from bombing others? No, don't even answer that. What example are you setting? Blow up your problems? So now it's OK to blow things up because it's not YOU, it's THEM and THEY'RE the problem, is that right?"

"Do you think you can console yourself? Go ahead, despise the naïve, despise the provincial, the yokel, the victim, the proleteriat, the person who still believes in his government or in his job-- whose caricatured submission is a catalyst presented as a foil precisely to make you forget your own. You're even telling yourself right now that this applies to 'most people', but not YOU! No, you're a special snowflake, the hero, the man who changes the world for the better while it crumbles around him. Fuck me? Fuck you."

---

http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/...nd_244495v.jpg

The sky was strewn with trails of air craft fighters. That wouldn't be any good. They're faster then the speedboats we got.

"Arigh' crew, 'dis is happenin'."

It was a giant motherfucking boat. No way. We're fucking insane.

"Don't call 'erselves Jackal Skins fer' nothin'. Le'see if we can start some fireworks!"

Emerging from the abandoned Esamiran coast their ships tantalized across the ocean like a rush of pain makes it's way up the nervous system. How they got so close is beyond me. All I remember is jumping off the boat and feeling the cold ocean breeze turn into the freezing water below. My physical body was torn away from reality, and for a short moment I could feel myself flying through the air. I caught a glimpse of my burned bits of severed limbs.

---

"YEEEHHAWWW!"

The ship rammed right into side of the larger ship. They could hear a swarm of bees, weapons being readjusted; lasers slammed down into the deep but their boats curved evasively. He made a mistake on the turn-- or maybe the boat didn't respond fast enough-- and I saw a laser slice into his neck. Blood literally fountained out and our speed craft spun out of control. I felt like a crocadile grabbed hold of me and began rolling, twisting my body into immeasurable contortions. I heard the hard hum of the blade spinning in my ear.

---

The speedcraft slammed into the boat-- it was glorious! Bits of that dumbass spiraled as an effect of momentum. Then we cascaded around the dark summer shore, dodging lazers like a FunV rave until a beautiful display of gore splattered across his face. The other boat caressed the waves, spinning in an ecstatic rage of machinery, right into the hull of the big ship. I took out the C4 and slapped it where it WOULD hurt. And I quicklyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

---

I looked back. Fucker got shot before he hit the detonator. I kept my foot on the gas and headed towards the sunset, nearly diving down; I grabbed the detonator and pressed the button a million times. I only had to once; that was pretty easy to figure out.

---

"Independance day? That can't be right. We're about to sell you off into slavery."

The Broken Star terrorists shuffled a nuclear family of prisoners from out of the back of the truck. They were frightened.

"But we'll tell you what. . .If your government, lets say 'buys' you're independance back, we're fine with that too."

The technology-guy of the group began to establish a video message. "Now don't give me that 'we don't negotiate with terrorists' bullshit. . ."

The sirens were deafening, in front of the Juggernaut a flash of light had been seen and the gigantic mass of metal had shaken. “Damage report!” The admiral looked around. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was his first real combat. Around him, people talking and screaming. “Sir, one of the small crafts as crashed on us! Damages appear to be superficial and we’ve cleared most of the attack. Some speed boats are still g-“ The man was interrupted by another explosion, on the rear this time, the first detonation was itself soon buried behind the sound of a second. “Fire on the lower decks! We’ve lost two rotors! Sir, radiological alarms indicate a minor breach in the power plant!” Fuck, this was going to hell way to quickly, how was this even possible? No matter, even if the Juggernaut had lost some power, it’s weapons were still intact and would be able to destroy a few things. “Get some men on that, get the emergency batteries online and ring Holder Kartwasten!”

The pilot spoke, unsure. “S-sir! We’ve lost a rudder and we’re leaning left! We’re on a collision course with the Undefeated!” The admiral looked at the pilot and answered with a biting tone. “Well then move and send a message to it to move as well if that’s not enough! If we as much as scratch the painting of the Undefeated here, as these Esamiran mongrels look at us, I will have you personally court marshaled!”

----------
The Imperial Summer Palace on Corner Island had once been where the emperors entertained lavish parties and invited foreign guests to impress them enough to join Valkur peacefully. Now, it was the Grand Holder of Power of the Nation’s vacation house. Mondal of course never really took such a thing as a vacation, too much things to do, but still, this palace had the advantage of being quiet, which was hard to find in Praven or in the incredibly large but still too small Alpha Bunker.

Working was for her pretty much sitting and thinking. High tech lances allowed her to access information instantly and implants in her brain allowed to only need to think to make things happen. She frowned as the reports of the Eastern fleet, supposed to move to the Heavenly Tower and at the same time put a stain on Esamira’s independence celebration, came in, telling of an enemy contact by old speed boats while the Esamiran navy stood by, watching. “Get me the president on the phone.”

----------
“Ooooooh shit! We’re going to make contact! All hands brace for impact!” Despite the best effort of both the pilots of the Juggernaut and the Undefeated, the Juggernaut could not turn fast enough and slowly with the deafening noise of metal grinding metal, the battleship moved along the carrier. A couple of impossibly long seconds later, the Juggernaut was clear of the carrier. “Sir, the Undefeated reports no damages, but that was a close one!” Rickard could not believe this. “FUCK! I want these ships at the bottom of the sea! Now! Every ship in attack formation, all planes in the air! If these Esamiran fuckers want a war, they’ll get one!”

“Sir, Kartwasten is on the line, his orders are to deal with the attacking crafts and to continue as per the designated path to get to the Heavenly Tower.” Of course this spineless idiot would say that, just like Mondal he was. “What?! This was an obvious attack against our ship! We must replicate!” The radioman listened to his headset for a second and turned again toward Admiral Rickard. “Sir, he orders you to execute his orders, should you refuse, you will be court marshaled and your second is ordered to take command.” Rickard was boiling with anger. At this range of the enemy fleet, the UNVS fleet could obliterate the ESS’s ships with ease! Sure the aircrafts that would no doubt be coming in from the land would be problematic, but firing this first shot would finally get the war started again. “FINE! Every ship back in formation, but I still want all the planes to take off! Just look at this, the Esamirans will take their chances, I’m sure of it!”

----------
The UNV had its ways to communicate with its ‘Enemies’, nothing official, but still. The war they were on with Esamira was just a technicality and Erika had high doubts that they would just throw away the peace like this. “Your Highness, Malcolm Barret is on the line.” This had taken longer than expected, but still. Erika took the phone handed to her by a robotic Agent and stood up. “This is Erika Mondal speaking. Mister Barret, I was informed that while cruising close to New Dawn, the UNV’s Eastern Fleet was attacked by speed boats. At this moment, arrangements are made to send bombers toward your territories and ready a counter attack. My advisors however inform me that the ships that attacked our fleet did not bare your flag and that your ships did not in fact engage ours at the moment. My diplomatic advisors also inform me that, as per our observations through satellites and spies, breaking the status quo would at the moment be extremely undesirable for you. This is why I now contact you, to give you a chance to explain to me in clearer details the situation as per your point of view.”

This of course also mean that breaking the status quo at the moment was undesirable for the UNV as well, for the traditionalists, this would have been the perfect reason to get the hostilities starting again. Mondal however didn’t see it that way.

Malcolm stood from the Balcony, watching and observing the excitement going on below. In that moment he felt proud, and if only Isaac was here to see his vision become reality and see his younger brother become it's Leader. His eyes became a little cloudy, some tears running down his cheeks, he wiped away the tears as he heard several knocks on the door. "Come in." A man dressed in a black suit came in with a red phone over a sliver tray in hand. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but Miss Mondal has requested to speak with you. It seems urgent."

"That's quite strange.."

-----------------------------

"What the Hell's going on?" Admiral Richards asked in confusion as bursts a fire were sighted from their distance, followed by erratic movements of the UNV ships. "Sir! aircraft launching from the UNV fleet!" Richards was becoming nervous, once again the UNV come on Esamiran waters to harass them, and it seems they are stepping up in the methods. It seems they are begging to provoke the Esamirans. And in truth, after years of this, it worked.

"Damn it all. Scramble two squadrons, I want them to maintain formation over the ESS New Dawn and the fleet. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT engage the Valkurians unless under my direct orders or fired upon. "They want a challenge? I'll give them one...."

Moments later, two dozen Daggers and Sabres shot out like bullets from the landing strip of the Carrier New Dawn, flying in delta formations as they thrust upward and over the fleet. "Dread Wings, in positions." One of the squadron leaders reported. "Skyblades, in position." The other said.

-----------------------------


"I see...." I was unaware of the situation. I however, assure you that we continue to strive and maintain peace between our nations. And if any assistance is needed from these unknown assailants we-" The President was suddenly interrupted by loud screams and gunfire. "What the hell?" he instantly lost his grip with the phone and rushed out to the balcony and was in sheer horror to what he saw. Unknown armed men roam the streets, bodies lain all over, and worst of all, the monsters piled on said corpses, and lit them ablaze, charred into ashes. "Oh my gods...."

Esamira, New Dawn, Lower City

"The Lord-Director is going to have someone's head on a pike for this" Jonathon heard someone mutter. He wasn't sure who the speaker was, either Ron or Chris, nor did he care at the moment as he handed Alexa her rifle before pulling his out of the rooms hidden weapon's locker. Military grade, the two rifles were not the kind of hardware governments wanted civilians to get their hands on. Of course neither Alexa nor Jonathon, both senior field agents of Imperial Intelligence, considered themselves civilians.

"Claymore five and nine in position" Alexa said into her throat mic. Jonathon heard an echo of her message played in his earbud.

"Claymore nine," A gravelly voice said over the channel, "What can you see in our window?" Jonathon swung his rifle towards the building across the street from the one he and his team were in and checked the a specific room.

"I can see two plain clothes agents. No identifying objects on either one. The VIP is out of my line of sight. I have a clear, unobstructed view of the door." Jonathon reported.

"Claymore five?"

"Same deal."

Jonathon turned his rifle towards the street below him, immediately spotting two more plain clothes agents. Both agents had their eyes locked down the street towards the source of a great racket. Jonathon's team, in fact the whole cell, had been caught flat footed. They had had no warning about the raid apparently hitting the capital city, nor did they know who was behind it.

"We're prepping the vans and bringing them around the back in the event we need to make an expedient exit." The gruff voice reported. The vans were purpose made bullet proof, and arguably bomb proof, vehicles that were surprisingly fast and agile given their size, shape, and weight. Jonathon hoped they didn't need to make use of the vans. The cell had a good setup here, which wasn't matched by the back up hideouts that had been set up half a year ago.

"See anything yet?" Ron asked. Jonathon kept his eye on his scope as he grunted a negative. He didn't need to look back at the agent to know he and the others in the room were decked out in full combat armor. Knowing Ron, he probably had his submachine hanging on his side and a grenade launcher on his hands. The man had always struck Jonathon as a more army-type than intelligence-type.

"Sabre two here," One of the agents at street level reported in, "we have a visual on what we believe to be hostiles moving in. We can't identify their affiliation nor armaments, but there are quite a bit of them."

Alexa and Ron both swore the same word in unison as the whole team picked firing positions. They would not allow any harm come to the VIP. As the raiders moved closer, the Eye-Eye agents made one last check of their weapons and armor. The streets would run red with blood that day.

UNV, Parvan, The Slums
((Below is a collab with Marrone.))

Reggy could feel the gravity of the oppression around him. Rumbling cornerstones ached on all sides, eyes piercing in a lulling benign stare. Looking up to the swirling, black clouds an overcoming sentiment added a violent element to the general gloom of the city of Praven. As if he were to be held down, grounded helplessly to dust and then consumed through inhalation. He knocked on the door three times and said, "Open up. . .écarlate lettre"

The door opened a crack, just enough for a blue eye to peer out. There were cameras set up, but electronic devices could be... modified. The eye's owner spent a single second observing Reggy and his surroundings before opening the door further and stepping back. As the door opened it revealed the owner of the eye to be a young woman in her mid twenties. She was slim, with curves in just the right places, and a face good enough to get most men to take a second look. The smile on that face might be enough to distract a less experienced agent from noticing that one hand was placed on the small of her back, gripping the hilt of a pistol tucked there.

Reggy's eyes wizzed up to the cameras; their audible buzz sounded but only his eyes moved, not his head. With the door opening slightly he decided not to pry, letting the woman do her apparent ritualistic investigation. The comfort expiated from her efforts might go a long way to ensuring the success of this meeting. When she finally unvieled her figure from the tenebrismic shades, Reggy analyzed her lithe figure. Mellow curves that clearly activated sexual inhibitors, especially in the male brain, were duly noted yet urges to inspect were suppressed, noticing her suspicious body language. An audible whisper rose from the silence, "Well?"

Her hand slowly revealed itself from behind her back, empty, as she replied "Do come in. I'd hate for you to catch a cold." Her eyes stayed locked on the doorway and stayed there until the door was shut and sealed by three seperate locks. At face value it looked as if she was paranoid, but was it really paranioa when one was considered to be an enemy of the state?

The room in which the pair occupied was small, little larger than a room one might expect to sleep in. Its walls showed obvious signs of disrepair, with what could be any number of substances, probably mold, growing in one corner. The only furniture in the room was a table, on which a closed and presumibly heavily encrypted laptop rested, and two couches, one of which the woman fell into.

"So tell me," She gestured towards the other coach as she spoke, "how do you think we can help each other today?"

Her soft lilt onto the couch caught his eyes, unexpectantly intrigued by the fluidity of the movement. Blinking himself back into focus he answered her question while reaching into his back pocket, "I need more relevant info on this tango. Eleanor Fray. . ." He pulled out his wallet and expiated a picture from it's leathery depths.

http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs71/f/20...8f-d4lip99.png

He raised his eyebrows, "I know a lot about her, I've been researching her for a year or two now. But I need more relevant information-- recent, raw stuff that I can indirectly use to my advantage. I'm assuming you might have connections that could assist me in this endeavor, because I do plan on meeting her in a day or so." His body abandoned him and he showed a glimpse of weakness when her softer fingers tore the picture from his own.

"Ah" She said as her fingers brushed against his, a not so sincere smile on her face as she drew the picture towards her. "Compassionate Eleanor" Her tone showed just how compassionate she found the woman to be. Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she gazed at the picture before her. "I think this is more recent than any we have on record" She mumbled, flipping open her laptop.

"Now why are you so interested in Eleanor?" She asked as her fingers played across the keyboard. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He flushed at her inquiry, "Public assassination isn't ideal, so private is the way to go." Indefinately, however, his voice was trailing and his answer hollow. It wasn't easily a lie, but it was said superficially; it wasn't the whole truth.

Jessica's fingers stopped dancing across the keyboard as Reggy answered her inquiry. Now that hadn't been what she was expected. She clamped down on her surprise, hopefully, just before it reached her eyes. Her hand reached into her pocket, pulling out a flashdrive in what she hoped would mask the reason for the pause in her typing. It probably hadn't.

"You know," She purred, snapping the flashdrive into one of the laptop's ports, "Eleanor has always been towards the top of our list," She didn't need to specify which list, "even before we learned she was Mondal's heir apparent." The hint of a smile spread across her face as she removed the flashdrive and almost offered it to Reggy. "The thing is she's a hard woman to reach."

"Tell me about it," He looked away, almost shyly, but the corner of his eye met the motion of the flash drive and he was virtually nervous about grabbing it. "Look, Jessica, I--" He adjusted his hat and had a hard time looking at her. Now regretting saying anything but 'thank you', he knew he'd dug himself in a pit. It was then he decided he might as well admit to someone his affection, "I need to tell you something between you and I. Can you confirm that security between the two of us and ensure the fidelity of the information?" He didn't realize it, but he was looking intensely into her eyes. Like the pain and suffering of some marytrs passion, like the blazing longing of a sunset finally laying to rest.

The smile on her face was now nothing more than a memory as she absorbed what Reggy was saying and reading his body language. She slowly waved the flashdrive and her hand from the left to right, slowly drifting towards his legs, only to realize that his eyes were locked on hers. Oh dear she thought to herself. This was not behavior she was used to observing from him.

Crossing and then uncrossing her legs, a tactic, this time employed unconsciously, to draw his attention, she thought for a moment as to what to do. Finally she mentally shrugged to herself and placed the flashdrive on the table before her with a light click.

"What you say next will be for my ears only" She assured him, leaning forward slightly and returning his gaze with one of her own.

Now realizing that his focus was intense, he began to cut down on it. He realized he was letting his work life spill into his personal life. . .Maybe even his love life. Considering his abilities, this was more than unacceptable. He averted his eyes from her own but still remained standing, almost sternly. The soft and nimble legs of hers slid past each other emulating a white noise of friction between, perhaps, goose bumps. He looked her back in the eyes, but now more cool, less connected; he felt in danger, and rightly so, "I don't know if I can murder Eleanor."

He gulped, not fully realizing the implications of saying it out loud. "I've murdered before, this way and dozens of others. . .It's not about that. I'm confused, Jessica, confused about things I thought I had under control. I'm not the bravest man in the world, and. . .Well, I feel cowardly when I think of murdering her. Like I'd be avoiding something important, some sort of responsibility that I owe myself." A little disoriented, he let his hand go out as if he was blind and reached out to the couch.

Jessica frowned as she leaned back in her seat. Had he just dropped a grenade into her lap? She certainly felt like he had. A dozen remarks, questions, and accusations ran threw her head, none of which seemed appropriate for the situation. Letting out a mental sigh, and making sure it didn't become physical, she leaned slightly forward again. Even as she opened her mouth she wasn't entirely sure of what she was going to say.

"This should be no different than anything else you've done before," She commented, "in fact it should be easier considering that she is little more than a monster hiding in human flesh. What am I missing here?" She made sure to keep her tone far away from anything sounding like an accusation.

Unfortunately, her tone was ill received. Feelings of irritation began to wash over his mind and face and he could feel his mental inflammation trying to deduce the insensitivity of her statement. He did something that maybe he didn't regret initially, gave her a hard stare-- the kind of stares he gives before he organizes his words into patterns his victims can't comprehend and then literally lose control of their senses, their breathing, their heartbeat-- and he withdrew knowing how serious that expression was. He cupped his face in his hands, wiping at his forehead, "I'm trying to say," he gulped, "that I think I love her."

There was an awkward silence as Jessica's mind raced to comprehend what it had received from her ears. Reggy had dropped a grenade in her lap, primed and ready to blow. Worse yet he had done so while she was sitting in a minefield. Oh dear she thought for the second time. It was only after she closed her mouth that she realized the thought had flown from between her lips. She clamped down hard for a moment, not wishing to reveal any more of her thought process.

"This more than the usual puppy love?" The usual being what some agents occasionally felt while watching over a given target for a long amount of time. It was usually a mere crush, nothing more. Something told Jessica this wasn't the case, but a woman could hope, right?

Feeling slightly annoyed, considering that he mentioned before a symbiotic relationship far less superficial than 'puppy love', he made amends to it considering the instability of the situation and how 'not everyone pays that much attention' like he tried to. But in her question he could sense a sort of sentiment, a tint of jealousy. He dissected it, tossing it around in his head, but decided to pretend it wasn't there, "No. . .I don't know. I haven't met her in the flesh. I just have a strong urge about this." He pulled his head from his hands, "How about something to drink?"

"I was afraid of that" Jessica said as she grimaced. She could only wonder why he had decided to bring this to her attention. She had been expecting to give him information on a target, and one for assassination not courting. "Alright" She let out a sigh, "I'll have to go out and grab something though."

Her body moved up infront of his vision and he nodded lightly. Slightly worried about where she was going-- if she was going to sneak into privacy to reveal his secret-- but he controlled himself, assured that even if she reported him to officials he could either lie back through his teeth or accept it and help find a new solution to the problem. He watched her form sashay past the door, as if she had walked into it and simply melded through. The world was quiet and endearing, and he meditated for the moment to put out the fire of worries with the tranquil waters of the opportunities yet to bring.

He didn't have long to mediate, as Jessica needed only to cross the hall, knock on a door on the opposite side, and tell her comrades who waited there what she wanted. It wasn't that she didn't trust Reggy...but it was always nice knowing one had comrades nearby who could break down a door at the first sound of gunfire. Returning to the room, Jessica held up a bottle of vodka in one hand, two glasses in the other. She quickly placed the glasses on the table and filled them before returning to her previous seat. She quickly took a sip from her glass, just enough to show she was willing to drink from it herself before returning her glass to the table.

Being eager, he naturally reached over to pour himself; his hand was on the cup when she filled it, and he felt the immediate warmness of the gesture. He watched her-- almost by habit-- take the first sip, because of course they were both still assassins and operatives to some degree, and seeing that the drink is unlaced he took several gulps himself. It was emptied quicker than he thought and for a moment kept it close to his body before recognizing the protocol and placing his cup on the table as well. "I haven't drank alcohol in a long while, I just remembered. . ."

"I prefer wine myself" Jessica said, offering little information as she refilled his glass. She was starting to feel like a hostess. Now wouldn't that be an interesting career change... "So do you intend to drink yourself silly" she brought herself back to the here and now, "or are you seeking advice from a colleague?"

He shrugged, "I'd like some advice but I wouldn't be opposed to, once we deplete that resource, drinking until we do something we regret." And instantly he felt regret at that statement. It was the last thing he wanted to say; it couldn't be possible that this vodka went to his head already, could it?

Jessica let out a rather unlady like sound before responding "Assuming we'd remember enough to be able to regret it. You do realize this is vodka, right?" Her light tone was momentarily matched by her eyes. "However something tells me that dodging the conversation we really should be having is more likely to be what causes the regret." The former, temporary, mirth had fled her. "I'll say this once. Hand your assignment to someone else and run away. No good will come from Eleanor. You and I both know this, even if one of us isn't ready to admit it."

Not hearing the support he wanted, he tilted the bottle at an angle into his glass. The splash at the bottom of the glass resonated with a light overtone. "That's the thing, though, Jessica. I'm the one. There are no other operatives in the ID like me, where they're respected in the UNV. It would take decades of service that I've already done to replace me, and I don't know if I can do that to my organization. There has to be another way. I don't know it, Jessica, I don't, but there has to be." He paused for a moment and took a gulp, "I think that's what gets me though. . .That there's hope. All logical answers point to 'no', but something deep, not primal but intrinsic is telling me 'yes', and I'm not about to abandon that."

He took another gulp and finished the glass, squeezing his eyes closed. "I, uh. . .Listen, say. . .Say Eleanor and I really hit it off. . .I get even deeper in their royalty, more intimate with their secrets than I am right now. And wouldn't it be better to convert someone like Eleanor to our cause rather than murder her?" He almost hiccupped now, "I mean, murdering another person would be. . .bad for our kids or something. . .bad example for them to follow . ." He tried to reach for the bottle but decided against it.

"First you talk about turning her and now kids? What am I to do with you?" She quickly snatched the bottle out of his reach before his better judgment further fled him. God only knew how much he was in need of it at the moment. She took a long swig from her own glass before asking "How do you intend to turn her? You have to know that trying to romance her..." She trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air. He was probably beyond listening to her anyways.

Reggy sat back against the couch. She began to trail off and he squinted, trying to focus. Her voice became a murmur and he caught glimpses of words indicating a sort of scorn. And as she became physically, at least superficially weak, he placed a finger on her lip as to squelch her. He then lightly thrusted his glass in her space, obviously gesturing for a refill. "I think we can agree. . .I am right and I will, uh, continue my project in symbolically murdering the woman she used to be. ..well, no, that's no good. . .I love her for who she is. I know she's a cold hearted robot. . .but I need, uh, that balance. . .I yearn for that balance, or something. . .But she doesn't need to be a robot-slave to the UNV. . .she just needs to be herself, or well, just refill my glass or something. . ."

She swatted his hand out of her face, but obediently refilled his glass before taking a long sip straight from the bottle itself. Neither of them were going to enjoy the coming morning, but at the moment she no longer cared. "You don't need balance" She countered, "Just something more than hot air in that head of yours to cushion what little brains you have left." Most of the force had drained from her voice by this point. She took another long sip before offering the bottle to Reggy.


Right at this moment a lightly sublime numbness stretched across Reggy's mind. Her distended form mildly contorted as she took a gulp of the drink. Her face returned and he responded curtly, yet still stubbornly, "Like you?" Now he couldn't believe he said that, but foolishly he reached out to retrieve the bottle from her. His eyes remained a hazy, dreamy quality, looking into hers in an almost curious fashion.

She chuckled for a moment before conceding "Considering that I keep company with the likes of you there must be something wrong with me." And then the bottle was out of her hands. She shrugged, kicking her feet onto the table. "Keep drinking like that" she commented "and you won't be waking up tomorrow morning. I doubt I will at this rate" She closed her eyes, seeming to have fallen asleep, but cracked the right one open as she said "Don't try anything."

The liquid drained down his throat. For a moment things almost blacked out, but he regained consciousness. The bottle itself was getting light and the patter of her feet hit the table. He looked away for a second, and then looked back smartly, as if he were inferring something. Grinning at her warning, his focus washed over with a blink. He murmured something under his breathe, audible enough for her to hear, "Pas de promesses"

Several hours later Jessica awoke, finder herself somehow having shared the same couch with Reggy, is arm around her. Her memory of the previous night, disjointed as it was, held no solid answers as to what happened. The young woman let out a long sigh before a small smile appeared on her face. "Guess I beat you too it Elly."

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A swarm of criminals erupted from the sewers, the dark alley way, the crowds, the nooks and crannies of society and city into a violent, despondent rage. The houses were empty; everyone was at the festival. It was time to strike.

They poured out like green slime spills out of the head of a man who's head is being crushed constantly. Like sweat in a fight or flight. Fight or flight.

Everyone was running in fear. Emotions went from ecstatic celebration to terror, excruciating terror. Another bomb went off in a building. A man, gagged, is shoved out of a parked car with a bomb strapped to his chest. The car runs off. The man explodes.

Gunfire shouts into the crowd, eating into their flesh viciously. Bullets indiscriminately murder anyone in their way. Homes are broken into en masse. Doors left ajar as to pillage what little valuables are available.

Warehouse are disected with scalpels made of shrapnel. And inside they expiate the beatiful wealth of a nation. Vans and all assortments of trucks, fast cars, fast fast cars, began to become encumbered with valuables.

---

The Presidents driver turned the key into ingisplosion.

They rushed out with their weapons, taking advantage of the suprise, spitting bullets all over the area, hoping to hit something.

Maybe about five of them, automatic submachine guns. Two of them were shot immediately, security agents dispatched the rest in a hurry.

---

Exploding in her face, the bomb was made of a car's battery pack. Searing acid swarmed through her face, melting her identity, melting her eyes, melting everything. She screamed as hard as she could while the vitrolic contents consumed her.

---

It was old; he blew on it and dust ashed into the underground sky. Squinting, he shrewdly examined it's quality. It was, perhaps because of social conventions, that cheaper actually indicated a greater taste. Low quality put yourself with the masses, and everyone was after that delicate balance between an aristocrat and pauper. How beautiful would this world be without that sort of depth?

He looked over to the clerk, inquiring,

"How much for the hat?"

---

"I'm on fire, oh fuck, I'm on fire!" He spiraled around, clamoring for something, a lifeline to take hold of. Everyone avoided him like oil and water. He slammed his body against the window again and again until he fell out into the air of New Dawn.

And down

nwod down

down nwod

like a shooting

star on

fire erif

nwod fire

aaah ahhh

ahah haha

AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

---

"You motherfucker! You fucking motherfucker! I'll fucking fucking AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"

She kicked at his gut and he leaned down. Then she popped a haymaker into his convolted face, exploding violently into a storm of bloody rage. He fell to the ground against the concrete wall. She continually kicked at his face. "FUCKING DIE!! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

And against the concrete catalyst he lost conciousness, and she was free to continue expressing her true feelings for the random stranger who was symbolic of a free civil life in middle class society. His head was a punching bag for the incessant struggles of poverty, of the outside world, and it was all his fault IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT AND HE SHOULD DIE. BECAUSE IF HE DIES THEN SHE CAN BE SURE THAT HE, LIKE HER, IS NOT IMMORTAL, THAT THEY'RE NOT SAFE JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE WORLD.

---

Reggy woke up with his head imprisoned. His body was still going through the painstaking process of detoxification. To suppress his pain in this mildly awake state, he pressed his face deeper into the figure next to him, letting his mouth suck gently on her skin. He didn't know who it was, but he didn't care. He squeezed his arm around her figure and could smell that familiar perfume, hear her soft breathing that grew somewhat agitated at his new actions. Drawing his hands threw her silky hair, gently passing knots and other turbulance.

The humidity between their two bodies emulated. It was as if they departed they would become cold and that together there was only a hope for that kind of heat. But last night was fuzzy. He didn't even try to remember it. But he did remember that he had somewhere to be. He didn't want to keep his driver waiting. With a suggestive push of his lower body into her own, he detached from their state of growth and rubbed at his eyes, "I have an appointment. . ." and still disoriented, he leaned down and gave her forehead a kiss.

Pulling himself together he took the flashdrive on the table, as well as the picture of Eleanor, and headed out the door.

---

They tied his arms to one car and his legs to another.

"Please, oh god, please fucking no!! Let me go, come on!"

They were blasting music which identified with their culture; violent, impulsive, relentless.

tore him apart

---

They came out from the no. Rushing towards the Eye-Eye HQ, they had no idea that it existed. And from the flurry of low-class violence they brought, they were unprepared for actual resistance. It instantly became a warzone and the bandits were on the losing side. Most of them were armed with no more than melee weapons, ranging from tire irons to spiked clubs, to electrified bats and torches. It became a battlefield between stones and firearms. The insurgents were massacred en masse, but they kept coming.

One of them finally got around an agent who was reloading. They smacked the gun out of his hand and proceeded to visciously beat him to death. The sound of his bones crackled through the atmosphere, and you could see the fear in the eyes of the victim, being broken down, being brutally reverse engineered into a microorganism.

---

Under Praven, a concert of artists have a show composed of performers and audience members of the P3.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBdru6gydkw

---

They tied the brick to the gas pedal. The van filled to the brim with explosives and fireworks spat from the dark alley into the crowd of people who decided to leave the ceremony early. It e

x

p

l

o

s

io

n

---

[.]

"We have been up all night, my friends and I, beneath mosque lamps whose brass cupolas are bright as our souls, because like them they were illuminated by the internal glow of electric hearts." He looked to the small grouping of friends, before they decided to consume the stimulants.

"Our hearts were filled with an immense pride at feeling ourselves standing quite alone, like lighthouses or like the sentinels in an outpost, facing the army of enemy stars encamped in their celestial bivouacs. Alone with the engineers in the infernal stokeholes of great ships, alone with the black spirits which rage in the belly of rogue machinations, alone with the drunkards beating their wings against the walls."

They ingested the pill. The sound of explosions spun off in the distance and the subway spun into action, blowing their hair in its direction. The city was celebrating their festivals until a flood of insecurity washed over them. The silence increased. The New Dawn whispered a calm prayer before the roar of our engines spilt beneath the asphalt.

"Come my friends!" He said, "Let us go!" Because they must break down the gates of life to test the bolts and the padlocks.

"Let us go! Here is the very first sunrise on Dacyria! Nothing equals the splentor of its red sword which strikes for the first time in our millennial darkness!"

And we laid in our trucks and vans like the snorting machines they were, and I myself laid in it as if it were my own coffin. But the wheels were in front of me, and I could feel a great sweep of maddening lust that brought us sharply back to ourselves to drive into the streets, steep and deep, like dried up torrents.

We could smell the wealth that was just waiting to be taken!

And we hunted like the beasts we were, black with its black fur dappled in sickening ichor, running before the vast violet night, a palpable and living sky that swirled in descending darkness.

We continued to drive, crushing any semblance of organic life in our path, indiscrinately swallowing people or domestic animal. Death went in front of me at each corner offering me his hand nicely and I indiscriminately teased his request.

---

Arnold greeted Reggy with a handshake. "You ready? It's a bit of a trip."

"I'm ready."

So the two jumped in the buggy and sailed off into the sunset, to the Ragaru base for study.

Arnold inquired, "Why there, though?"

"I've always wanted to understand their culture. They're isolated from the rest of the world and they accepted my offer to take a look at their culture. No books are really written on them and there's not too many around, especially in the UNV, that understand their history. So I'm going where no man has set before."

"You're a real science soldier, you know that Reggy? You put a lot of field agents to shame, haha!"

Reggy just grinned, "I'm sure studying local fauna and flora, bird watching and all that other bullshit some guys spill their nuts over is as equally important as my own work.

Arnold blinked, still keeping his eye on the off-road, "That reminds me, Reggy. Where'd you get that love bite?"

---

[.]

The two men were of the International Deadline, courting the UNV women. Their chips were wired to be normal, but the four of them were noticably intimate with eachother. The girls knew that it was technically illegal to house them here, but it was beautiful and joyful and they wanted nothing else in their life. They were all laughing, sitting around the table eating a brilliant supper. Wine was being consumed, stories were being told. The man took her hand and kissed it and she flushed. The other woman's phone gone off and she casually answered it, "Hello? What? What do you mean lettre écarlate?"

The man on the right looked to the other. The moment rushed by and eyes grew wide; he pulled out his handgun and shot the woman in the face; she fell over in her chair and began scrambling lifelessly on the ground. The other woman was shot mercilessly as well and one of the men ran to turn on the stove's gas. The other prepared the fire bomb, and the two left the apartment before the smell of gasoline could be smelt on their clothing. They locked the door.

---

He smiled, giving his lover a kiss. Their masculine forms combined in the angry violence of New Dawn. And with the hard, moist breath that grew between them, they felt a sentiment apart from the darkness around them. Their saliva trailed from lip to lip in their detachment, and after a glimpse into eachothers eyes, both men re-engaged their smooch.

It was pure carnage and mayhem, anarchy already descended upon the city, smokes from burning buildings rose upward to the sky. The Districts of the Lower city became a bloodbath. A horrific repeat of the Upper City, bodies piled up once more, lit ablaze, bodies of unfortunate victims crushed from the weight of falling wreckage. The Raiders ran amok and free, however, the lower city would soon become a warzone.

--------------------

A convoy of Jalbern Armored Trucks rolled through the streets as the New Dawn Police Department, amid the chaos, have now the proper resources to take action. They soon reached their destination as a large group of the raiders laid siege to an Apartment building. A man emerged from the Turret of the lead truck, and unload lead upon the men. "In the name of the law! Die you fuckers!" He shouted out, although rather unprofessional and quite out of character, however this was not the time or place to detain criminals, and their orders were very clear "Restore order at all costs."

The trucks came to a halt as several SWAT Teams streamed out from the back of the trucks, none of the officers hesitated as they aimed for the armed men. "Fire at will!" The sergeant cried out. Instantly a firefight begun. The SWAT officers scattered as the enemy returned fire, taking out five of them.

-------------------

"Mister President" The Defense Minister spoke. "We have reports from all across the lower districts of hundreds of armed men springing out from no where. We have deployed all the remaining military and police units to the Lower City to remedy the situation. Republican Guard units will remain in the Upper City and clean out the remnants."

"Sir, the people will demand action and answers." The Prime Minister said, who had to be called for a Cabinet Meeting, to his displeasure. "By observation of the bodies, it seems they hold no Allegiance to a specific country. However, this is too strange even for bandits to launch an organized attack of this scale. I wouldn't put past the UNV to hire mercenaries."

"Mister President, I also have to make mention of eye-witness reports of skirmishes, it seems the raiders have met heavy resistance, however, the group in question are not ours."

"What District were they sighted?"

The Defense Minister paused as he check the report. "Let see...District 5."

"I want a platoon deployed there in case they're hostile."

From the background as the meeting took place, a lone figure stood by the sidelines, watching. He took interest as District Five was mentioned. He stretched his arms and approached the table. "Gentlemen, If I may interrupt. " He said with a soft-spoken, confident tone in his voice. This man was Ian Huntsmen. Director of the Easmiran Strategic Information Services. "I wouldn't worry too much about them being a threat."

"How would you know?"

"Well, let's say they're associates of mine."

"Director, who exactly are they?"

"Well, if you're ready. And I wouldn't dare refuse an order from the President." He cleared his throat. "Those men are members of Imperial Intelligence." The room fell silent after those words were said for a moment. Maybe it wasn't the best of times to fess up. "That was to be expected...hehe." He grinned with a hint of humor.

The Prime Minister was red with anger. "How long have these...damned imperialists...been lived right under our noses?" He was calm, and contained himself, however, this sudden revelation, plus the attack and UNV fleet stationed near the city, it was a bit much even for him.

"Five years, sir." He paused, waiting for a response. He continued on. "However, they weren't truly taken notice as of two years ago. When their "Activities" and numbers increased."

"And it didn't occur to you to share this information, why is that?" The President asked.

"Well, it was our agreement when we first met, they provide us with any sort of Intel and assistance, in exchange, we kept their existence a secret and gave whatever aid possible.

"I...Honestly don't know to react to this..."

"It was for the good of Esamira. They felt even after all this time, that hatred for the Old Empire would cloud her people's judgement. Their goals are noble. They wish to bring down the New Regime."

"And what next? Bring back the Empire? You're fools to trust them." The Justice Minister scolded the Director.

"With due respect, they have done great work for us for the past two years. I trust them enough to look past the possibility. Don't let your prejudices blind you."

"Enough." The President ordered. "We must focus on the current crisis at hand. The City is still under siege and we must restore order. We WILL discuss the matter later, however, what we just heard never lives this room. It is best for the public if we continue to maintain the secrecy."

"Understood." They all replied.

"Good. Director Huntsmen. Once this mess is over, I want you to arrange a meeting."

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The police officer looked at his smartphone. “Cmon, I can do this.” The pixilated face of Eleanor Flay appeared, ordering him, the pilot of the UNVSS Hope, to lead this ship to its destination. The policeman skipped the cinematic and the game started, making him manipulate the phone to control the ship and dodge asteroids and Zeltros ships. Under his helmet, the man smiled as he got an angry looking reptile in his windshield, the Xunlai astronaut. “Unit I-702, 3 and 4, trauma death at 176 Empress Greta street, most likely bullet to the head, go and investigate. Camera record indicates 2 men that didn’t live in the building entered recently, they used a proxy and shall be considered armed and dangerous, over.” Damn, just when he was about to get the Valkuri parts to boost his ship.

“Roger dispatch, unit I-702 on the way.” The black van the policeman was sitting in was soon full, another guy got up to the pilot room and the vehicle was off. Rather than having centralized police stations, the UNV cities had guard posts all around to be closer. This combined with the surveillance state system they had in place made the answer time to a call ridiculously low. The pilot looked through the opening to the back of the semi-APC that he was driving. “ETA 1 minute!” He wasn’t looking at the road, but it didn’t matter. All vehicles were automated in the UNV, for civilians, you could only tell a location and you’d be led there, authorities had access to a manual override to take direct control in a chase, but here this wasn’t needed. The police vehicle was going at maximum speed, all vehicles on their way were pulling over without even seeing them, the state controlled computers taking over. An explosion was heard and a column of smoke was seen through the windshield.

“Explosion at destination, sending firefighting units and evacuating. Suspects have kissed and left the premise, consider hostile, take in or take out. We are pursuing with camera.” The policeman readied his weapon, an assault rifle. “Roger that dispatch, we are almost on site.” There was a short silence. “This is dispatch, they’ve gone in an alley, updating your HUD now, we’ve lost camera contact.” Shit. Praven was a very big city and despite all the efforts put into place, they didn’t have cameras everywhere.

The vehicle arrived on site, already another team was taking care of the civilians evacuated, the government could tell where they were and message them on their communication devices at any time, this had made this process go perfectly well and no policemen had to enter the building, they were waiting on the firefighters now. Unit I-702 entered the scene and immediately went for the alley the suspects had gone to, not needing to talk to the units on site. “This is dispatch, no data available on subjects, assume code 66.” Code 66, enemy spy, the only reason why anyone would not be in the system since they were put in at birth. This also meant to shot on sight and only capture if completely certain the subject was neutralized.

They entered the dark zone, the area with no camera coverage, they had to be within the boundaries of this relatively small zone. It didn’t take second until the whole location was secured. “Targets are… gone. Fuck.” The policeman looked around and his eyes stopped. A manhole to the sewers, of course. “This is I-702-03, just saw a manhole, I assume the electronic locks weren’t activated… or so it would seem. I assume a hack, subjects did use proxy chips.” Crap, there were hundreds of regulations about going to the sewers and that didn’t count the undercity beneath Praven. “Suspect lost, I repeat, suspect lost in the sewers, over.”


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Mondal didn’t mind the noises from the other end of the line, as she consulted a direct satellite feed over New Dawn, she could guess the president was busy. “Glad to hear this. As our business is concluded, I will leave you to your duties. Good evening.” And just like that, she hung up. Conversation was not an activity she enjoyed. Good thing they weren’t face to face, she hated those.


(OOC briefing about Ragaru raid half done, but I'm just too sleepy to finish it, I'll post it along with the attack, sorry Marrone, I am weak.)

Esamira, New Dawn, Lower City

Breath in. Slowly exhale while simultaneously clenching the hand into a fist. That was all it took for Jonathan to paint the wall of a building red with someone's brain matter and blood. Beside him Alexa performed the same series of actions, matching his red splatter with one of her own. On his opposite side someone fired a short burst from his assault rifle, dropping a third raider.

"Sabre Seven! Fall back immediately!" The order was already too late. One of the plain clothes agents on the street fell under a swarm of raiders who kicked, clubbed, and stabbed the man long after he stopped moving.

Jonathan centered his scope on the skull of a raider as he raised a two-by-four to strike Sabre Seven and ended that man's life. He immediately switched to a woman to the right, dropping her in a split second. Jonathan had already ended seven souls. His team as a whole easily dropped five times as many. The entire cell had probably ended over a hundred of the damned raiders, yet there was no end to them. They were endless.

"This isn't working" Jonathan head someone muttered over the comm lines as he dropped yet another raider. His eyes widened as he glanced to the left and catch a bit of movement from the VIP's apartment.

"Get the VIP down!" He all but screamed. A moment later he saw someone drag the VIP out of view. And not a moment too soon as the window took a hail of gunfire.

”Fuck you too!" Ron brought his grenade launcher to bare, firing three high explosive grenades in succession. It was enough to buy them all a moment to breath. But only a single moment.

"Where the fuck-" Jonathan's question was cut off as something slammed into him, dropping him to the floor. He started to rise, but found he hadn't the strength necessary to get off his back. That was odd. Then again he had been working hard. Maybe all he needed was a break. Yes, that was right. He'd take a break. His break would certainly be more enjoyable if whoever it was that was gurgling would stop. Then again he'd rather whoever was clutching at his throat would stop as well. Then it dawned on him: he was the one gurgling and clutching his throat. How odd.

"Claymore Nine is down!" Alexa yelled as she looked down at him for a moment. It was only a moment though, as she immediately turned back towards the window and let out a round. Jonathan found her voice sounded odd, almost muted. It was odd.

Odder yet was how she yelled he was down. Of course he was down. How could one take a break without being 'down'? Why was he taking a break anyways? He wasn't sure anymore. He found himself caring less and less as his vision darkened. The last thing Jonathan saw was Chris setting up a light machine gun in the window he had been firing out of just a few moments ago.

UNV, Parvan, The Slums

The sensation of his lips touching her skin, hands running through her hair, and a suggestive thrust of his lower parts into hers each evoked a pleasured sound from Jessica. "Have fun" She said as Reggy kissed her forehead. And then he was through the door. She rested her eyes for another twenty minutes before rising and gathering her clothes. She had business of her own to see too.

"I'm so glad that I can count on you" Jessica said two hours later. The smile she sent to the group of five 'men', none of which was older than twenty, was all teeth. She and her new acquaintances were seated in a small pub, one which was officially marked as closed to all business. Some of the men rested calmly in their chairs, a smug know-it-all grin plastered on their faces. The worried eyes of a few others darted between her and a row of five long, metal cases resting on one of the tables.

"Of course you can!" One of the smug men jumped to see feet. "If we won't fight for our freedom who will!" He pumped a fist into the air. The others in the room mimicked the action with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Exactly!" Jessica pumped her fist into the air as well. "You will be the arsenal of democracy! That bitch Mondal thinks she has us fooled, but we all know she's wearing a crown, even if it isn't in public."

"Damn straight!" One of the still sitting men agreed. Jessica found it amazing just how stupid people could be. This was almost too easy. Still, two of the men didn't look all that convinced. She'd have to fix that.

"Why don't you check out the gifts I got each of you." The men nodded at her order, disguised as a suggestion, and each opened one of the metal cases. Their eyes widened as they looked at the assault rifles that laid before them. The rifles were a bit old, having been used in the old Imperial Army, but even an outdated weapon would kill if it hit the target. Jessica got up from her seat and walked over to one of the unsure men who was checking out his assault rifle.

"This is the magazine release" She said in a sirenic voice as she pointed out the object in question, pressing her chest against the man's back in the process. She knew she had hit her mark the instant she felt the man shiver just a bit.

She stepped away from that man, knowing he would object to nothing the others wanted for some time and walked seemingly without purpose around the room. She intentionally walked past the last unsure man a few times, noting that he seemed to be fairly well acquainted to fire arms.

"I just love a man who knows his away around a gun" Her silky voice and bewitching gaze promised the man more than he would ever receive from her. He quickly adverted his gaze, a deep blush reddening his face. Bull's-eye. Her job was always so much easier when her targets were men who thought with one head far more than they should the other.

Esamira, New Dawn, Lower City

Working together the police and Eye-Eye agents gave the raiders an increasingly high death toll. The streets ran red with mostly raider blood. Tens of raiders fell for every officer or agent, some of which would probably live to see the next day. The police had managed to advance almost all the way to the apartment buildings and by extension had pushed the raiders back a great deal. Even so the raiders had somehow managed to set the VIP's apartment building on fire.

"This is Sentinel to all agents,” The senior most agent said over the comm lines, "We are bailing the VIP out. I repeat we are bailing the VIP out. All agents provide cover immediately."

No sooner had a second passed than a squad burst out of the VIP's room and ensured the hallway was safe. "Clear!" The lead agent yelled, keeping both his gun's sights and his eyeballs plastered on the far end of the hallway. He waited for an affirmative from inside the room before he lead his squad of eight agents down the hall.

They moved as one solid entity. When they reached an intersection in the hall the first two agents would fall to a crouch, keeping a gun trained both ways down the intersecting hall as the rest of the squad moved on. Then they would follow as the last two before them covered them. Meanwhile the squad directly covering the VIP, as well as a third squad covering their rear, followed in the first squad's wake. The three squads made it all the way to the first level when bad news struck.

"Night Two here, hostiles hit our position hard. We're hoofing it out of here and pulling around to the front. Keep an eye out for hostiles entering the building."

"So much for a clean extraction" One agent muttered after they received the news. The lead agent, taking a right towards the front entrance instead of the planned left towards the back rounded the corner and came almost face to face with a raider. The raider's surprised blink was met by two bullets from the point agent's gun. The agent then let out a short burst into a second raider. Then the group was moving again, stopping just short of the exit to the main street.

"Vangard to Sentinel" The lead agent said over the comm lines, "Are the locals expecting us?"

"They are but move out cautiously. There's no telling how they'll react." Came the response. The lead agent waited till the agent before lightly tapped him on the shoulder before slowly moving towards and through the door leading to the street. He paused momentarily and looked towards his right as the next agent cleared the door and covered the left side. He looked at what he thought was the police officer in charge, waiting to make eye contact with the man before leading the rest of the squad out of the building. As the squad got into position to pour firing into the raiders, the lead agent caught sight of a white van just behind the police line and waved at it.

The driver maneuvered the van around officers, ignoring the gunfire that bounced off its armor. As the van reached the building it backed its end towards the building, ensuring that the VIP would be exposed for only a moment before reaching its safety. Assuming no raiders had brought an rpg along.

"Sentinel to all units. We are moving the VIP out. I repeat: we are moving the VIP out. Blow those bastards into oblivion!" In response a hail of gunfire from agents on the street and the building across from the VIP's room opened up. Two light machine guns, a grenade launcher, one, possibly two sniper rifles, plus numerous submachine guns and assault rifles ensured that the raiders kept their heads down for the brief moment that a woman wearing what appeared to be a black combat vest over a white dress dashed into the back of the van. Two more figures, agents in full combat armor dashed behind her before the van's back doors were slammed shut and it was racing away and back towards the police lines; the police in its way wisely chose to dive to the side as the van showed no signs of slowing, and for good reason as two rpgs just barely missed it.

Now momentarily free of their charge, the remaining agents turned their full attention on the raiders. Meanwhile the receding form of the van was met by two more identical vans. The three circling each other until it was impossible to tell which one had the VIP and which ones was full of pissed of Imperial agents.