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Showing content with the highest reputation on 05/12/2019 in all areas

  1. 2 points
    Previously: When SSO agent "Shrike" offers him a chance to settle an old score with "Kingfisher", now an alleged traitor, Captain Santiago becomes embroiled in a cloak-and-dagger game between the Duchy of Verde and his homeland, the Republic of Iverica. Santiago fails to prevent Kingfisher's assassination of the Vasqqan head of state, Subiri, but manages to confront and defeat Kingfisher in the storm drains of the Vasqqan capital. However, after a watery intervention gives Kingfisher a chance to speak, Santiago quickly learns that his mark, Kingfisher, is no traitor at all, but a double agent still loyal to Iverica. Now, Santiago must confront Shrike, the real traitor who had masterminded the debacle in hopes of recovering the sensitive documents Shrike has gained possession of. A UNION DIVIDED | CHAPTER III, PART 1 1330hrs 17th of October, 2018 Porto Verde They were hopelessly lost. Wandering in the labyrinthian storm drains without a map, Santiago and Kingfisher could only hope to pick path after path of dark, dripping pipeline. This space was a far cry from the cavernous expanse of the main ducts they had battled in just a few hours ago. Between the two, there had been an unspoken agreement of sorts--forged somewhere between the principles of a mutually sought retribution against Shrike and a kind of enemy of my enemy pact. At the moment, the only evidence of trust in their new partnership was the carbine Kingfisher had returned to Santiago's hands. It was clear that the spook did not trust the jaded SOAR officer, but the gesture seemed necessary to cement their partnership--at least until the mission ended with the death of their mutual enemy. Still, the pair had been slogging through the ankle-deep slurry in wary silence of one another, sharing few words but never letting the other out of sight. At least, that was the case until Kingfisher, who had taken the fore, froze and signalled with an upheld fist. "Mér!", he muttered. "What?", Santiago had his carbine raised, sweeping the rear. "Footsteps, still some ways off", whispered Kingfisher in reply. Then they heard the voices. It could only be the SSO kill team, as the Guardia Civil were unlikely to wander the storm drains during a deluge. Kingfisher tensed. Perhaps sensing that the spook was preparing to bolt, Santiago interjected. "Wait--this could be a good thing. If they think you're still my prisoner, we could tag along, use Plover's map, and make a break for it. This place is a maze, we could lose them easily" "Puté, that's bleeding mad", but Kingfisher sounded uncertain. He knew as Santiago did, that all the other options would likely lead to them in Vasqqan cuffs. "It's our best shot", Santiago insisted. --- Not long after, the kill team had found, more like crashed into them at an intersection. There had been a brief exchange of raised rifles and shouting, but once it was clear that it was Santiago--with a freshly zip-tied Kingfisher in tow, the situation settled. Santiago noted the kill team was two members short, casualties of the flood no doubt. Though despite that, they had managed to retain Teresa in their custody, who was now glaring at Santiago through her soaked red locks. "Plover." "Capitan." The greeting was cold, but there was still some relief in Plover's voice--owing more to confirmation of Kingfisher's state of capture than the sight of Santiago's botched face. "Start talking, what's our plan for getting out of this damp hell?", Santiago resumed his usual tone of easy swaggering, masking the tension tightening in his calves. "I've ascertained our position. The airstrip is a no-go, we're too far. SSO has a contact inside the Guardia Maritima boat pool, we should be able to secure a skiff back to friendly waters." Santiago's mind raced. It was almost too perfect. He knew Shrike would be taking a ship, he said as much. If Kingfisher's new intel was true, he'd be making for Verde instead of Manille. There was only a matter of cutting Plover loose somehow. "Perfect. Lead the way." Plover turned to take point, consulting his plastic-sleeved map. Kingfisher and Santiago exchanged glances. Teresa, watching all the while, did not miss their gestures. --- The group marched along. In between the minutes of the march, Santiago and Kingfisher held a hurried conversation of hand signalled messages. They were bringing up the rear of the formation, so no one had caught on to their plotting. No one, except for Teresa, who cast furtive glances back at the pair, frowning all the while. Kingfisher caught her eye and nodded to her. If anything, Teresa's frown deepened even more. Plover had shared landmarks and map information with Santiago earlier, who in turn, signed the information to Kingfisher. It was decided that they would make a break for it at one of the cisterns they would pass--a tower-sized silo used to hold excess water in case the tubes were overwhelmed. The plan was simple--on the mark, Santiago would cause a distraction and they would bolt down the planned route to the boat pool, using the floodgate marked on the map to cut off the rest of the bewildered team. The opening to the cistern was coming into view, ahead its cylindrical base lay illuminated by the red glow of service lamps. Kingfisher looked to Santiago, who returned a minute nod and flipped his safety off. As the group emerged from one of the capillary tubes into the hollow tower that was the cistern, Kingfisher quickly scanned the interior. He found his mark. The floodgate. His calves tensed and he took a deep breath. The signal came when Santiago shouted, calling out phantom contacts behind them while firing his carbine at the dark nothingness of the tube they had just emerged from. The alarm was enough to distract the kill team, all of whom wheeled around and opened fire down the tube as well. Santiago began edging backwards, letting the kill team form a firing line in front of him. He slipped a flash grenade and a smoke grenade from his rig. At the first sign of the team's distraction, Kingfisher began his wild sprint, dashing towards the sluice gate. There was a shout of alarm, and one of the men turned his weapon towards the darting Kingfisher. The flash grenade that Santiago primed went off, blinding everyone else. Kingfisher hadn't been careful enough as he ran with his forearm across his eyes. He slipped on the muck and went sprawling into the ankle-deep dregs. Then, Santiago's smoke grenade went off, smoke billowing around the enclosed space. There was shouting now, the kill team was verily confused, coughing and milling about. Just as Kingfisher regained his footing he felt his collar yanked upwards. He turned to face his assailant, meeting the descending carbine stock face-first. The weapon butt slammed into the bridge of his nose. Plover had somehow caught up to him. The young agent now stood triumphantly over him, his weapon's muzzle aimed squarely at Kingfisher's forehead The carbine let loose two rounds. No kaleidoscope of memories came. There was only pure, naked shock as the muzzle flash enveloped his vision. A moment passed before he realised he wasn't dead. Coming out of the wince he was holding, he realised that Plover was convulsing at an odd angle, bent backwards, head tipped backed with the carbine pointing wayside. Teresa was behind Plover, her zip ties constricting his windpipe as he tried to shake her off like a wounded tiger would if it had a monkey around its neck. Not wasting another moment, Kingfisher cocked his right leg back and sent it lashing out. The boot heel connected with Plover's crotch, ending his struggle and allowing Teresa to gain control. There was a crack, audible through the shouting and shooting. Plover fell, his head lolling at an odd angle. Teresa scooped up the carbine and kicked Kingfisher in the ribs. "Move it!", she shrieked at him. Kingfisher didn't need to be told twice, he scrambled to his feet and half-staggered, half-sprinted for the flood gate. --- Santiago had already been waiting at the gate entrance, firing at the scattered kill team returning wildly inaccurate fire. The smoke had flooded the constricted space, with no formation and muzzle flashes lighting up all around, the operators' resistance was of little effect. Only as Kingfisher and Teresa slid into the tube did they finally respond in good order. Though it was too late, for Santiago had already flipped the gate's manual trigger, sending the heavy 3-ton slab of steel into a whining descent. As the gate squealed shut, the noise of firing and shouting was abruptly muffled, punctuated only by the dull tolling of rounds thrumming off the thick metal. Santiago was panting heavily. As was Kingfisher, blood streaming through his nose. And as was Teresa who had Plover's carbine levelled at the both of them. --- Your granny a tranny.
  2. 2 points
    This is why I'd prefer if we just retcon to a point where we can all agree. I've already said that I'd prefer no part in this from now on and would rather just have the ship be from another nation if possible...
  3. 1 point
    National Space Agency Of The Ahranaian Federation The National Space Agency of the Ahranaian Federation(NSAAF) is the Ahranaian Federations sole Space Program, the NSAAF will have the capability to launch, operate, maintain and create Satellites for the Federation in the sometime future of Space Research. The NSAAF also partners with other Space Programs to help give the People of Eurth the technical advances that the world has today. It is the hopes of the NSAAF to one day help send Mankind to Space and to live in space for a duration of time. The Space Agency publishes Articles about space and other topics in the Governmental Science Journal that contains some Foreign Scientists Findings as well.
  4. 1 point
    I've just edited the title accordingly. I'll need to RP on the islands for a while then. If that's so, what should I do with my current news that referenced to the location in the 'Reserved' area? Should I just retcon the story? Or edit it accordingly?
  5. 1 point
    Due to how far away Faramount is and how the new government is meant to be reducing military spending, Prymont will just watch from afar for now. We're no strangers to political meddling though, or covering up war crimes, so if any of those are useful, give us cold boys a shout.
  6. 1 point
    You're certainly welcome to! But I'd note that this isn't just a Christian group, but rather, a Christian/Truther group. Specifically, the Disciples are a radical Christian Imperialist group.
  7. 1 point
    Monday, 20 December, Year of Our Lord 2018 The squad of black-suited individuals walked through the same lobby in the same building as Rogers had done not even two weeks before. They each gave a curt nod as they walked pass the receptionist to the elevator before piling in. One hit the button marked “3,” and the elevator doors closed as the elevator began to ascend. The doors opened and the squad walked out, nonchalantly walking down the hallway as if they were only just walking back to their apartment. They stopped at a door marked “305”- the same number on the business card. One of them dropped a duffel bag, rummaging through it and passing out gear- masks, weapons and tactical grenades. None of this would be used if everything went according to plan. But plans rarely work out. When they had finished putting their masks on and prepping their weapons, the apparent captain of the squad nodded to each one of them, then suddenly kicked the door down. Two split left to clear the kitchen while the other three walked down the hallway towards the living room, which was dark save for the TV which was on. The three slowly walked down, the two doors set in the hallway closed and locked. They reached the living room, one clearing left and one clearing right. The third walked over to the couch, where he found Tony lying on the couch, sleeping and with an empty beer can in his hand. On a coffee table in front of the couch were documents, sprawled out in an unorganized fashion. The group leader, Thomas, took off his mask, and the rest of the squad did the same as the two men from the kitchen walked into the living room. As the two drugged Tony and bounded him, Thomas looked at the documents. Many of them seemed like printed out emails, letters, or other documents, although some were profiles on some members of the Ordo. Thomas frowned at how much info seemed to be leaked. “Grab those documents, we’ll burn them later.” The other two men nodded, and the squad began packing up. The gear was stowed back to where it was before, with the documents stashed with them. Tony was stuffed into a large suitcase that they had brought in with them. They left 5 minutes later out of the backdoor. ____________ Saturday, The Day of the Birth of Our Messiah, Jesus Christ, Year of Our Lord 2018 Tony woke up from his unconscious stupor, his body aching and in pain. He had lost count how many days he’s been in the basement. His face was bloodied, bruised, and bloodied from the beatings. “Come on, Tony. Do just tell.” The pain at first was unbearable, but he had gotten used to it. He was sure that they’d broken a good number of bones in his body. he knew it was bad when thoughts became hard to muster. “Toooony.” The woman seemed to croon. “Tell and you won’t be in trouble.” It sounded like his mother. Why was that? Something stopped him from telling. Not the excruciating pain or brain damage. He despised Kevin. What was his business going around telling people what to do or not do when he’s got his own problems, his own hellish “sins?” He was part of this plot in the first place. The woman made an exaggerated pouting face. “Oh, come on Tony, you know you want to tell me your secret. Who told you those naughty things? You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?” Tony struggled to lift his head up. His mother was asking a simple question, all he had to do was answer the truth. No punishment. But something stopped him. He didn’t know what. They always hated each other. Or... did they? Tony, his eyes empty and blank, grunted in response. The woman frowned. “Well, no cookie for you.” Then it went black. _______ “Stop.” The tattooed woman stopped beating Tony. The bat was stained red. Matthew was standing in the dark corner, examining Tony from a distance like he was examining a corpse at a crime scene. The woman walked over to him and shrugging her shoulders. Matthew looked to the man standing next to him. “We found him with documents about us. Profiles on us even, including one on you.” Kevin looked away from Tony and stared at Matt. He held back his emotions screaming at him to do something. “Why do you tell me this?” he asked, nonchalantly. Matt shrugged. “Just to let you know.” Kevin simply nodded in affirmation and replied briefly. “I think we can begin our moves for the smoke.” Matt was surprised. He cocked one eyebrow, “You sure? Saulius is popular. We do not have a guaranteed majority.” Kevin simply nodded. “Cardinal John is also popular, especially with the more liberal cardinals overseas in Europa. Others we have bought off.” He looked away from Matt and back at Tony. “Others could simply miss the vote.” _______ The morning after. Father Leo walked out to his mailbox to collect the daily mail. As the new pastor, he was incredibly busy, but with it being the day after Christmas church offices were closed and there was only one daily mass, which the other priest offered to preside over. He was left to enjoy his Sunday, something rarely enjoyed by the clergy in Salvia. He walked down the asphalt driveway and opened the mailbox. He rifled through it, and seeing the usual package almost stopped. But a small, handwritten note taped to the corner of a magazine caught his eye. He ripped it off the magazine and read it. He frowned confusingly. Judas seeks the lambs. He wears a red flower. His wolves wear white. Seek them.
  8. 1 point
    What other options are there for Derth? He’s sure to lose the war that he deserves. I have no clue why he doesn’t accept that fact. Of course, this is from an outsider. I wasn’t present when almost all of this happened.
  9. 1 point
    Salvia would probably support the Christian group, possibly with arms and/or advisors. Would this be a problem?
  10. 1 point
    It could be done sometime after the thread? I've seen a couple of nations who weren't in the Laren Environmental Conference have ratified the convention after the fact. I think.
  11. 1 point
    That was my IC reason, as it wasn't initially thought that MH was coming back. Whatever I outlined is trumped by the new stuff MH puts forward. You wouldn't be so foolish.
  12. 1 point
    If you want to relive Tag's experience of getting those missionaries back in many boxes, sure.
  13. 0 points
    Thanks! It's been a bit tainted by the fact I'm getting over the worst case of food poisoning I've ever had (hence my lack of recent activity - sorry!)
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