Red Storm Rising

[TheShammySocialist]

[b][OOC: Invite-only, if you want to be involved, talk to me on IRC, please and thanks.][/b]

Benjamin Holm strode quickly down the street, despite his aides' best warnings, he had decided to go out into the dark misty evening alone, but this was not out of ignorance, this was out of purpose. The protests across the city had died down a little with the rainy day, but there were still scattered reports of protestors and police battling it out, he knew this very well, seeing as he was the Minister of the Interior, responsible for keeping internal law and order and working with the nation's Attorney General in that endeavor. The email he had received on his computer had been from an old friend, the last words [i]Come alone[/i], were ominous of what was to be said. As he crossed into Stockholm's Old Town, he pulled the coat around himself tighter, there were few people on the streets this evening, and most people wouldn't recognize the introverted Holm anyways, he shied away from the camera often, preferring to keep to his work.

He approached the tavern tucked in between two small local shops, each political party seemed to have their own tavern that they frequented in Stockholm, he would pass a frequent number of posters and fliers that supported the Order of Falkenberg as he strolled up to the front door of the tavern. He looked around, before stepping inside, there were only a select few people in the tavern that night, and most looked up as he came in. His eyes swept the place, nervously, as most went back to their drinks, but he saw a few of the eyes continuing to stare at him, some narrowing, some appeared to be expecting him. He noticed that the individual who had invited him, appeared to not be there, and he slowly made his way to the bar, before one of the men who seemed to be expecting him spoke up, speaking casually and nonchalantly.

"He's in the back," nodded the man, before going back to his drink.

Holm looked back at the door, seeing a man who had been sitting at the table next to it move to stand by it, giving the government minister a look, before standing in front of it. Holm collected his thoughts, taking a deep breath, before walking towards the back of the tavern. A number of taverns used to be affiliated with Swedish organized crime, and while these syndicates may have been broken up, taverns like these were a testament to their existence, and thus were a good front to do business. Holm stepped through a door, a wave of cigarette smoke hitting him as he opened the door, and made him cough, as he took in the occupants.

Yves Sturmheld was sitting with two other men at a table, surrounded by comfy chairs, all of them were puffing on cigarettes, and looked up as Holm entered the room, Sturmheld smiled, but his two compatriots appeared to be less receptive, continuing to glower.

"You know... its illegal to smoke in restaurants and bars," said Holm, quietly, as he sat down in the chair that was clearly intended for him.

"What kind of greeting is that Ben, for an old friend?" chuckled Sturmheld, putting down his cigarette and deftly picking up his tumbler, that was filled with whiskey. "Ben, you know Rex Christianson," nodded Sturmheld, indicating one of the Order's leading members of parliament, who just nodded. "And this is an associate of mine, Drexel Laatimeken." The other man just looked at Holm, not nodding or exchanging a pleasantry. "Drink?"

Holm just nodded at the duo, before responding, "I'll take a whiskey."

Sturmheld leaned over and poured the tumbler that was set in front of Holm, appearing jovial, or at least seeming to be jovial. "Let's just say that I know that this is probably a peculiar meeting, so how about we get down to business, eh?"

"You know you should be trying to negotiate with the Socialist right now, Yves, things are getting bad," said Holm, almost halfheartedly, but keeping a confident edge in his voice as he swigged the whiskey.

"Look Ben, we're beyond negotiations, the socialists think I ordered that burning down in Malmo, I didn't," said Sturmheld, sounding apologetic, but also annoyed. "Now they're out in the streets calling for blood, and fire-bombing three times as many of our offices. I can't answer for what the right does, but right now, we're at war with our own countrymen, because they decided to strike against our party for what we didn't do."

"You know I can't take your word on that," said Holm.

"If we don't do something about the socialists, if we don't send them a message, Ben, things are going to get worse."

"No, that's just escalation into further conflict."

"Ben, the conflict is already here, you and I both know the socialists will win the next election, and then, they'll have a majority. Even if there is an election, they will try to marginalize both our parties, they've already been getting to be annoying as coalition partners, am I right?"

"That's beside the point, if you escalate, things [i]are[/i] going to get worse."

"No Ben, if we don't send them a nice strong message, things [i]won't[/i] get worse, because they will know our place, under our heel. This country will be torn apart if the Nyquist brothers take control of it, you and I both know that. The socialists capitalized on the SCU breaking up, despite them being a rightist party, they stalled any effort towards that conflict in France until it was too late, they didn't pursue a campaign against those Finns like they should have, they are the cause of your government's problems, we've been as supportive as we can be. But your government needs to stand up to these reds, before its too late for both of us," said Sturmheld, standing up, and walking in circles around the table as he preached.

Holm watched him, feeling his confidence wavering, he knew he was going to be voted out of office come the next election, given the recent news about him and Ericsson going over other cabinet ministers in an attempt to formulate a strategic defense plan without the Nyquist brothers. "Why did you ask me here?"

Sturmheld sensed his moment, and said simply, "I am calling in the favor."

Holm just sighed heavily; the "favor" that Sturmheld referring to was their past, was from their college years. Sturmheld and Holm had been close friends at college, and throughout their younger years before that. They had been in the same fraternity, they had been like brothers, until both of them joined politics, which put them opposing ends of the political spectrum. Despite that, Sturmheld had been able to convince his parents during their last few years of college, that Holm was going places, and it was true, Holm was a hard worker, he wasn't very social, but he could public speak when he needed to, and he was a top notch student, but given his simpler background, his family was always fighting for every single kronor. Therefore, Sturmheld's parents had helped pay for Holm's university career, and Holm couldn't thank his friend enough, Sturmheld had waved it off, but both knew that Holm would owe him something later in life.

"What do you want?" asked Holm, his voice edgy.

"God, that is a very dangerous question to ask, Ben," chuckled Sturmheld, getting a guffaw out of the two men.

For the first time since Ben had arrived, one of the Sturmheld's two cohorts spoke, and surprisingly, it was Laatimeken, who spoke in a curt and businesslike voice, "[i]I[/i] want two files, Mr. Holm."

Holm just looked at the man, who looked at him blankly, and then said, "On what?"

"Not on 'what', on 'who', Ben," said Sturmheld, taking out a picture, and sliding it across the table to Holm, who picked it up.

"Good God," muttered Holm, as he looked at it.

Edited December 5, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

The next day at midday, Holm had excused himself from lunch at the parliamentary cafeteria, and took the stairs to the fourth floor of the legislative offices, carrying a briefcase. Despite holding only two files, the information inside of them weighed him down figuratively, rather then literally. He took the stairs to only prolong the unwanted journey he was making; as he reached the top of the stairs, and stepped through the door onto the fourth floor of offices, he heaved a sigh. He was sweating profusely, he had been of a heavy heart and conscience since he had pulled the files and copied them in his office about an hour ago. The journey to the office five doors down from the stairs felt like it took an eternity, and when he got there, he stared at the door for at least a good minute, attracting the attention of an aide, who was getting some water at the water cooler halfway down the hallway.

"Are you okay Minister?" the aide called out, which shook Holm from his reverie, and he looked at the aide.

"No, not at all, late night," he nodded, the aide giving him a strange look, before he adjusted his suit coat and knocked on the door.

"Enter," he heard Sturmheld's voice call out, and Holm took a deep breath and opened the door. Sturmheld wasn't even looking at the door, instead he was looking outside at the skyline of Stockholm at midday. Holm quietly shut the door, and stood there, uncomfortable, for another minute before Sturmheld turned around. "Good to see you again, Ben," he said, with a smile.

Holm just nodded, meagerly, before opening the briefcase and throwing down two files on Sturmheld's desk, looking at his old friend, before saying, "We're even."

"Yes, we are, thank you," nodded Sturmheld.

"I can't say that I consider you a friend anymore, not after this, Yves," said Holm, shakily, as Sturmheld looked at the file, before turning his attention Holm.

"What happens with this information-."

"Don't do it Yves," said Holm, in a meager, almost pleading voice.

"It is already being done, just sit back, and enjoy a new lease of life on your political career."

"How can I enjoy something that will be stained with the blood of someone else?"

"We're patriots, Ben, we serve this country, and sometimes, blood must be spilled to ensure the continuation of the country," said Sturmheld, simply, as he looked coldly at Holm.

Holm just looked at Sturmheld one last time, a look in the former's eyes of hopelessness and anger, but he said nothing, as he backed away from Sturmheld. He closed the briefcase, and opened the door, hearing Sturmheld dialing a number on his cell phone. As he started walking down the hallway, he felt his stomach grow nauseous, and he ran the ten-door-distance to the loo, nearly hurling the briefcase aside as he crashed into one of the stalls, bending sick over the toilet.

---

Gustav Leuwenhaupt smoothly maneuvered the Volvo sedan through evening traffic as he and his partner, Annamarie Horn tailed the black, state-tagged sedan in front of them. With the rain and protests continuing, their route was even more clogged then usual, but they were still on time. Tasked with high-value individual protection, both sat up alertly in the car as they maneuvered through the streets, they knew almost the entirety of Stockholm's road network by heart; it was their job. Their was some static over the police scanner, and Annamarie turned up the scanner slowly.

"... two car accident at intersection of Sveavagen and Odengaten, Units 5 and 9 respond."

"Damn rain," cursed Gustav, as he adjusted his Bluetooth headset, and said out loud, "Victor, did you catch the Romeo Charlie on the scanner?"

"Got it loud and clear, we'll detour around on Radmansgatan, and around the park," responded the driver of the black sedan in front of them.

"Roger that," responded Gustav, looking over at the blonde agent next to him. "You get this weekend off?"

"Thankfully, yes, I get to spend time with the little one," said Annamarie, smiling warmly at Gustav.

"Good to hear, you earned it, after working these last two weeks straight," nodded Gustav, as they turned onto Radmansgatan. "That accident at Sveavagen and Odengaten is the fourth one in the past two weeks," he added, with a grunt.

"You've actually count?"

"Yeah."

"They have a traffic light there, I don't see why there is so many accidents, but then again, its rush hour, anything can happen," shrugged Annamarie, looking out the window.

"Like this," grunted Gustav, as the black sedan in front of him jammed on its brakes before turning onto the one-way Drottningatan. A delivery truck was parked in the street, completely blocking it. A man walked up the black sedan, and was talking to Victor, as Gustav said, "Victor, what's going on up there?"

As soon as the man stepped away, Victor replied, "Just a delivery, they're finishing up now, shouldn't be too much longer."

Annamarie's cell phone rang, and she picked it up, as Gustav side, sitting back in the seat, as his female counterpart said, "Mother, you know you're not sup-, oh, Ingrid, didn't mommy tell you not to call her when she was at work?"

Gustav smiled, as Annamarie looked at him, before her face suddenly contorting to a face of concern, "Wait, where is Mamere? Slow down honey, no, I'm not mad, where is Mamere?"

Gustav turned his attention to Annamarie again, with a strange look before piping up, "What is-," he started, as Annamarie held up a finger to silence him.

"She went with who? Who told me to call you?" asked Annamarie, looking puzzled, and worried, the color draining from her face. "What did they look like honey? Where did she go?"

Suddenly the back window of the Volvo sedan shattered, and Annamarie yelped, dropping her phone, bullets blew out both the back and front windshield in a matter of milliseconds. Gustav kicked open the door as he drew his SIG semi-automatic out of its holster, rolling out to engage two men who were advancing up from behind them with automatic rifles. "Dial backup," called Gustav, into his bluetooth, which immediately began dialing for the Swedish National Police's Special Response Squad in Stockholm. "This is Leuwanhaupt, I got shots fired on Radmansgatan, two men-," suddenly ducking behind a car, as three masked individuals ran out from cover in front of them. Annamarie began engaging them with her own pistol, as assault rifle fire rattled through the streets and the bullets thudded into their service vehicle.

"Make that five!" she called out.

"Five men, automatic weapons, need heavy backup!" he yelled into his mic, as he reloaded another clip and stood up and began firing again, knocking down one of the assailants with a shot that instantly dropped him. The other gunman found the mark, and his attention turned to the left, as he heard Annamarie let out a yelp, and she went down. Gustav yelled out in a rage, and stepped out from behind the car, emptying two rounds into the gunman, before feeling a line of pain follow a clatter of gunfire behind him. He sank to his knees, watching the man in front of him crumple to the ground in a heap, his gun emitting a few rounds as he went down.

Gustav fell to the ground, with no feeling from his neck down, but feeling faint, and drained, as he crumpled down facing down the street towards the car they had been chasing. He looked at his service pistol next to him, shell casings around it, his vision going from clear to blurry and back again. Victor had stepped out of the car, only to get mowed down as the men emptied an assault rifle clip through the door, his body almost instantly spiraling to the ground. The gunmen wrenched open the door, and Gustav had a clear view, as they dragged his charge out of the government sedan. Gustav had gotten to know Theo Nyquist over the half a year he had been protecting him, he was a real family man, a hard worker who always tried to be at home for the night, he worked just as hard as his older, bachelor brother, Christian. He had had dinner with Theo's family a few times, as a 'thank you' for being the family head's diligent protector, and he considered the Defense Minister a friend, not just a man he had to look after.

One of the gunmen threw the younger Nyquist brother to the ground, saying something, and kicking him in the stomach when he tried to get up. Gustav's eyes averted to the crumpled form of his partner nearby, who had issued a groan, she was facing him, but couldn't see the scene going on. The young mother appeared in agony, but seemed like she was not mortally injured, her gun lay next to her, like Gustav's lay next to him. He felt helpless, as his vision cleared once more, and his eyes flicked back to the gunman standing over Theo Nyquist, who had drawn a pistol from an inner pocket. The sirens seemed so far away, and the feeling of helplessness as he watched, as if in slow motion, the gunman take aim with his pistol, a tear ran out of Gustav's eye as there was a flash of fire and blood. Gustav felt his lungs gasping, and he faintly tasted blood, as the world blurred slowly to darkness, and never became clear again...

Edited December 6, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

The seemingly constant wet weather of late had done little to douse the literal and figurative fires that had been sparked from the death of Theo Nyquist, Stockholm was quickly degenerating into chaos, as was Gothenberg. Within the twelve hours since the death of Theo Nyquist, the police had little control over the situation, and had only been able to consolidate a hold on the two twin islands that housed the Swedish parliament and the Royal Palace. The Order of Falkenberg's main headquarters in Stockholm, had been firebombed only an hour after the assassination broke live on the news, and Christian Nyquist could still see it across the river, the large structure still ablaze as the morning broke over a chaotic Stockholm. While little civic disorder had been reported throughout the country, the cities were going into anarchy, and one Army arsenal had been looted by rightist supporters, who had an insider at the facility.

Christian looked down at his bruised knuckles, and then at the wall, where he had put a hole in the hard drywall, his floor was covered in stuff that had been originally on his desk, and he had completely swiped everything off it in a rage of sadness, anger, and anguish. He had not slept that entire night, sinking to the floor when the aide handed him a sheet of paper, and dissolving into tears. He and his brother had gone into politics together, to make a difference, to serve their communities and the citizens they were elected to represent, they had shared victories and defeats on the political battlefield together, and now all that had been torn from Christian's life in a single gunshot. The Prime Minister, Ericsson, had knocked on his door, but he refused to answer it, Ericsson didn't seem to press the matter and enter the otherwise unlocked office anyways.

While he may have been his older brother, and the president of the Swedish Socialist Front, but he looked up to his younger brother, he managed to juggle the responsibilities of being the defense minister, as well as tending to his family, all in the same day. It was admirable what he had been able to accomplish, and that accomplishment had cost him and by extension, his family, dearly. Christian collapsed with his lower back against his desk again, and felt the guilt, the anger, the sadness overwhelming him again as he thought of his brother. He sank to the floor, his eyes stinging from the tears that had invaded them so many times in the past twelve hours. He felt weak and drained of any energy, he hadn't eaten or drank anything, and despite his body feeling exhaustion, he knew he would not sleep.

As he felt himself degenerate into tears once again, there was a sharp knock on the door, which echoed about the room loudly; it was a very confident knock. Christian didn't say anything or answer the door, he simply didn't care. The knock came again, loud and sharp, confident and purposeful, but this time, it was accompanied by a female voice.

"Minister Nyquist," came the voice of none other then the Queen of Sweden herself, Caroline, in a soft, yet confident tone. "I know you are in there."

Christian didn't reply, but instead of going away like Ericsson had done, the door opened and closed, and he heard the young queen step inside the room, her shoe cracking an already piece of shattered glass. He heard her audibly sigh, and saw her out of the corner of his eye right a chair next to him, dusting debris off from it, and sitting down. She was devoid of any crown or her usual attire that she wore as a monarch, instead wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, something seemingly unheard of. As she sat down, she remarked, with a sad smile, "If you needed help remodeling, you could have just asked."

Christian croaked quietly, speaking for the first time to another human being in twelve hours, "I don't know why you're here, [i]your majesty[/i], but I don't need any jokes."

"Maybe not, but it appears that you need an ice pack," remarked Caroline, as she stood up, her shoes crunching over various objects covering the floor, as she went to a small mini-fridge in the corner, and pulled out a cold bottle of water, and wet a handkerchief she produced from her pocket. She walked back over to Christian, holding the cold and wet handkerchief up. "Put that on your knuckles, champ."

Christian reluctantly reached up and took the handkerchief from her grasp, and lay it over his fist, grunting at the sting it produced. "I didn't page for a nurse," he said, looking up Caroline, who was giving him a firm, but concerned stare.

"No, you didn't," she said softly, looking at him. "You paged for a friend."

"I don't remember making that phone call," he responded, uncomfortable in her presence, despite having developed at least what he would consider a [i]professional[/i] friendship with her.

"You didn't need to, Mr. Vargas next door clearly understood what you meant when you put your fist through your wall and left an outwards dent in his," responded Caroline, calm and collected, her eyes showing a hint of sadness. She held up the half-full water bottle she had wet her handkerchief with, and urged it in his direction.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Yes, you are."

"You're not my doctor."

"No, I'm your friend," she responded, firmly, thrusting the water bottle at him.

He gave her an annoyed stare, as he took the water bottle from her, and gingerly unscrewing the cap, he took a long sip from it, staring at the wall as the cool liquid ran through his innards and sent a shock through his system. He shivered at the feeling, before taking another sip. Caroline just looked on with her continued stare, which was somewhere between concerned, grim, yet confident. "Why are you [i]really[/i] here?"

"Your brothers' demise was not just out of political spite, it was to send a message."

"Don't you think I know that? My brother died because of his success, we built this party on next to nothing, and without him, our cause is lost."

Christian almost tumbled backwards when Caroline suddenly stood up, looking at him angrily, "How dare you, Christian Nyquist. There are good people on the streets of Stockholm and Gothenberg, in Malmo, fighting for your cause, a cause that you and your brother championed, and there are normal everyday people out there that have taken up your battle standard. And here you are, on the floor of your ruined office, wallowing in grief and declaring all be lost. Excuse me for saying this, but your brother would give you a right cuff upside the head for saying such a thing."

Christian stood up to face her, his anger beginning to swell, but she slapped him before he even had a chance to respond, and continued, "All public servants share a common danger that they may be the target of political hatred, that could ultimately cost us our lives. In a sense, we are soldiers fighting for a cause with words and votes, Theo may be dead, Christian, but he put his heart and soul into your party, and now you declare all to be lost. There are people out there who are dying for it right now, they die the true patriots, while you sit here, and do nothing, while grieving for your brother."

"How can you talk like that when democracy is now crumbling around us, yes, we may have people fighting for our cause, but what cause is there, if there is no state to dedicate it to, our state is in chaos, right now," retorted Christian, rubbing at his cheek, but not striking the Queen back. Her words hurt, yes, but they had struck a chord, and he felt invigorated, "How do we restore a democracy that is clearly broken, to a state that is clearly broken?"

"And perceptively, like the smart politician that you are, Mr. Nyquist, you have deduced my secondary reason for my visit."

Edited December 7, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

Christian Nyquist nearly kicked open the door to the Parliamentary Offices' Ministry of the Interior Sub-Offices, with Caroline of Bernadotte walking right behind him, in her unusual casual attire. Like many of the government offices, a few people had stayed here overnight due to the utter siege the city center seemed to be in, as things had started to careen downhill the previous night before, but most of the parliamentary offices were empty. Following Caroline were two [i]Livgardet[/i] Officers, both dressed in fatigues rather then their formal attire, both armed with sidearms and wearing combat webbing and boots, along with the distinctive grey beret with the unit crest pinned on it.

A sleepy-looking secretary looked up from her work, and her eyes seemed to widen as large as saucers, and she stood up quickly, bowing, "Your Majesty, I didn't know we were expecting you."

"Is Mr. Holm in?" asked Christian, forgoing pleasantries.

"I do not know, Minister, sir."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, looking at the secretary with what seemed like fire in his eyes.

"I mean, I-I just don't know, the door to his office is locked, I thought I heard something inside a little while ago, but its been loud, you kno-," stuttered the secretary, looking fearful at Christian, and then Caroline. "I'm so sorry abo-."

Caroline stepped forward, holding up her hand, looking at Christian, then at the secretary, "We need to speak to Minister Holm."

"Is- is he in trouble?"

"We need to have a few words with him," said Christian, adjusting his demeanor slightly, but still much more imposing; his attitude had done a complete one-hundred and eighty degree turn in the last hour, and he felt invigorated. He looked at the secretary, who was somewhere between panicking and inquisitive, before saying, "I assume you handle files for Mr. Holm?"

"Yes, that's right, sir."

"Did you pull any files for him in the past week, that seemed odd to you?"

"Odd, in what way sir?"

Caroline was catching on, and said casually, "Odd, dear, like you don't get requests like this very often."

The secretary started rustling through a notebook on her desk quickly, and nervously, "Well, he asked me to pull a file on-."

She was interrupted suddenly by a muffled gunshot from behind a door, that pierced the tense office, causing the young secretary to emit a scream and drop to the ground. The two [i]Livgardet[/i] officers pulled their sidearms, as Caroline yelped, and jumped to the floor and Christian jumped nearly four feet into the ear, and ducked behind a desk. Christian looked around, no one seemed to be hurt, he looked over at Caroline, who was looking back at him, holding her chest, and looking startled.

"Is there anyone else in the office, Miss?" asked one of officers, edging towards the block of three doors behind the secretary's desk.

"Only Minister Holm's office is locked," squeaked the secretary.

Christian and Caroline shared a dark look, as one of the officers kicked the locked door in, the other covering him.

"We got a man down!" called the other officer, who had kicked in the door.

Caroline and Christian both slowly stood up, both of them on shaky legs, and they could see partly into the office, one of the officers was standing in the doorway, swiveling his pistol around. A spray of blood could be seen on one of the walls, and they both looked away, Christian swallowing a hard breath. It was obvious what had happened, and they heard rustling as the officers picked up a gun and something else, before shutting the door behind him. Caroline looked over at the lieutenant, holding a gun which he was unloading, and he shook his head. Caroline sighed, looking over at Christian, who was seemingly staring off into space.

"Ma'am, there was a note on the desk," said the other officer, stepping forward to hand Caroline a handwritten letter, which he had taken the time to try to dab spots of blood from with his uniform cuff.

"I'm not sure if we should-," started Christian, the adrenaline slowly rushing out of him, as he looked at Caroline reading it.

"It's addressed to you," said Caroline, folding it in two as she handed it over. "I only read the header."

Christian hesitantly took it, looking at her, before unfolding it, and looking at it, one of the officers escorted the secretary which had quickly broken down, as the other stood in front of the door quietly. As he read the letter, Christian felt his emotions seem to go haywire, but he continued to read every single word of it. As he finished the letter, he fell into an empty chair, shaking his head, as he felt his eyes water again, he rubbed at them with his hand. Caroline just watched him read, her hands clasped behind her back, as she looked at him with an air of concern. Christian sniffed, trying to clear his overwhelmed throbbing headache, rubbing at his watered eyes, as he folded the letter again.

Christian looked at the floor for a moment, before standing up on shaky legs, and saying, "Sturmheld."

Caroline nodded affirmatively, "It seems as though Yves has signed his own death warrant."

"Not before signing the death warrants of two good men," said Christian, looking out the window the smoldering skyline of Stockholm. He looked at Caroline, sadly, "He knew what was going to happen, but he gave up the files, anyways."

"He also gave you what you needed to know, you know what you need to do now, so do it," Caroline responded, putting a hand on his shoulder, and looking him squarely in the eyes. "For Sweden, with the times."

Christian nodded, "With the times."

Edited December 7, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

Fredrik Ericsson looked around the meeting of gathered leading Social Democratic League parliamentarians and Ministers, they had gathered in a meeting hall on the first floor of the parliament building, things seemed bleak, grave. He sighed, as he sipped his glass of water, then said, "Do we know where Minister Holm is?"

"Nada, the secretary didn't know when I asked her earlier," replied Tristan Hauz, a leading SDL whip.

"Why aren't the socialists here?" asked Erika Hamilton, looking at Ericsson and Yvette Christianson, the Chancellor of the Exechequer, Ericsson's "second-in-command".

"Because they are part of the problem, Erika," answered Yvette, in a straightforward, but annoyed tone. "They can't control their supporters, and they've let this situation degenerate into further violence. Christian Nyquist wouldn't come out of his office for God knows what reason when his country needed him the most, especially to try to calm the socialists in the street, now they're running around with guns."

"Yvette," said Fredrik, giving her a look, before turning to the rest of the gathered delegates. "Right now, we need to explore what options we have, the Armed Forces are still loyal to the government, for the most part, and aren't interfering with the security forces."

"We need to get the Queen to enact martial law," responded Christianson, point-blank.

"That would also take a vote of parliament," remarked Ericsson, looking at Erika Hamilton, who was the current Attorney General.

"Correct, and there is no way we can conduct one right now."

"These are extenuating circumstances," retorted Christianson, looking at Hamilton.

"You could say that again," came the voice of Christian Nyquist, as Caroline pushed open the door to the small meeting room, he was following the monarch.

"Your Majesty," said Ericsson, "I didn't know if you were still in the Capitol, I thought I had arranged your evacuation?" Ericsson affixed Christian with a sympathetic, but uneasy stare, as the two stood near the door.

"I evacuated my personal staff, they need to be at home with their families," said Caroline, in a matter-of-fact tone. "A Queen does not run, Prime Minister."

"I didn't know there was a cabinet meeting going on?" remarked Christian, cutting straight to the point, although he seemed completely unsurprised at the gathering.

"You didn't answer your door earlier, Christian, I supposed you were taking time to yourself, but given the state of this country right now, I felt that it was necessary to conduct a meeting, and fill you in later."

"I see, I suppose that is why the other two members of the socialist coalition are not here as well."

Ericsson looked at his counterpart, without an answer, Christianson suddenly stood up, and in her usual blunt fashion, addressed Christian, "Nyquist, your supporters are out of control, your party is part of this problem. Now you come in here accusing us of problems again-."

"Yvette-," started Ericsson, holding up a hand to stop his cohort from continuing her tirade.

"No, he's part of the problem Fredrik, he and his party have been coddled and given special treatment to keep them in this coalition. We should have been working together, but instead, your party couldn't control its own supporters, you don't see any SDL people out on the streets. Your party has been a debilitating part of this government, Nyquist, you and your brother, instead of working with us, ran your own agenda, instead of coordinating with us," fumed Christianson, coming around the table, and pointing at Christian.

"That's enough, Chancellor," growled Caroline, looking at Ericsson, then at Christianson in an annoyed fashion. "I've heard enough of this political bickering that I have had to put up with while this government has been in office. You continue to bicker as the democracy that we all built crumbles around us, how dare you conduct this meeting without the other party in your coalition present, Prime Minister," said the monarch, making Ericsson blush, before turning to the finance minister. "You're blaming of Mr. Nyquist and his party is misplaced, Yvette, this meeting alone gives you no leeway to talk about Minister Nyquist and his party causing a debilitation of this government."

"Your Majesty," said Ericsson, speaking in a more polite tone, holding up his hand so that Christianson would not continue. "Chancellor Christianson is only frustrated, something has to be done about this unrest, I suggest Minister Nyquist address his followers, and try to calm the situation, before this government fails."

"That will be unnecessary. This government has already failed."

Ericsson looked taken aback, his eyebrow arched. "But your majesty, if we do not do something about the two sides fighting, this will only get worse."

"Prime Minister, this entire situation was contrived by Yves Sturmheld in an attempt to keep the socialists in check, this was explained in Minister Holm's suicide letter."

The group of ten or so SDL members began whispering loudly at the news that the Minister of the Interior had died, Christianson sat down in an empty seat, staring blankly at the floor. "Benjamin Holm is dead?" gulped Ericsson, staring at Caroline in the eye.

"The second life destroyed by Yves Sturmheld, along with all the countless casualties of this ongoing political violence that has gripped this country," answered Caroline, looking at the assembly sternly. Ericsson sank in his to his chair, then looked up at Caroline.

"He was in Sturmheld's circle?"

"He allowed my brother to be killed at the hands of the rightists," said Christian, firmly.

"I understand you are angry and grieving, Christian, but blaming my party for Holm's unilateral actions is unfair."

"Unfair? Your party has been living off my parties' support since the beginning, you cast our ideas as your own, not giving us the due credit. Then you ignore my party when we need to coordinate the most, and don't do enough to stop this violence from occurring. My party is under attack, yet instead of supporting us, you cast us as part of the problem, when now it is clear who the problem is. Then your own handpicked Minister of the Interior allows my brother, a friend of Minister Holm's no less, to be killed," said Christian, feeling his anger swell, but he controlled it.

"So you're breaking our coalition up because you're mad at the world? It's your own damn fault," said Christianson, in her usual hotheaded manner, standing up to try to stare down Christian.

Before Christian could say anything, Caroline stepped between the two, and looked at the finance minister, "No, I'm dissolving the current parliament, given that the leader of the opposition is now considered for murder, along with his top cohorts. Your government has failed to control this situation, Prime Minister, it is time for it to be dissolved."

"An election, in the middle of what is looking to be the beginnings of a civil war, are you mad?" asked Ericsson, finally losing his cool, and standing up to stare down the monarch who was easily half his age.

"An election? No." Caroline affixed him with a stare, "It is clear that democracy has failed Sweden, the world we live in now requires a much more steady and firm hand to guide this country. The steadiness provided by this government was unsatisfactory at best, laughable at worst, this country may be growing economically, but it is in shambles internally. Change needs to occur."

Ericsson seemed to stare at the monarch in disbelief, before saying, "So, what, you're going to rule this country as a tyrant?"

"No, this is my last act as the Queen of Sweden," stated Caroline, coolly staring down her former Prime Minister. "I am hereby appointing Mr. Nyquist to be Secretary General of the People's Commissariat of Sweden."

Hamilton, as the, now apparently former, Attorney General, stood up, and started, "You can't-."

"I just did, Ms. Hamilton. I issued an Act of the Realm fifteen minutes ago, I have officially dissolved the government, which is well within my right under the constitution under these circumstances."

Ericsson sat down and put his hands over his face, rubbing it slowly, before laughing out, sounding like he was disbelieving his own words, "Sturmheld was right."

"No, Sturmheld opened Pandora's box, and this government failed to shut the lid," said Caroline, before going to the door, and opening it. "Gentlemen and ladies, this meeting is adjourned, and you are released from the service of the Swedish people. A new dawn has come for this nation, and it is time for the night to be extinguished."

[TheShammySocialist]

[b][url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoXZHPL3nVU]The War Council[/url][/b]

Christian Nyquist looked at the small contingent of gathered officers, of various ranks, Caroline of Bernadotte was there, she had replaced her unusual informal attire of earlier with a digital camouflaged set of fatigues, and a red sash around her arm, the impromptu mark of the [i]Gamla Stan[/i] Guards Brigade, which had originally been the [i]Livgardet[/i]. She had also taken up the rank of Brigadier General, as the acting commander of the Guards, whose other commander had been killed while ensuring the government district of Stockholm was secure. Beside the former monarch stood Lieutenant General Ludwig Horn in a similar uniform, sans the red sash, Horn was a veteran of the war in Central Asia, the former Commanding Officer of the Swedish Expeditionary Force. (OOC: These events are on a different timeline, it is assumed that the war with Cochin has ended.) Horn cut a dashing appearance with flash of silver hair, but a strong demeanor, a rigid face, and a stout, imposing presence.

Across the table from Christian, Brigadier General Dannika Mannerheim, the Interim Commissar of Internal Affairs, while retaining her post as Inspector General of the Swedish Armed Forces. Mannerheim was like Horn, an older woman who had served in various capacities in the German Military before switching back to her country of birth. She was an imposing character, strong-willed, and a strong presence amongst the ragtag group of commanders. Next to Mannerheim were a group of field officers, mostly colonels, from various regiments that were garrisoned in the Stockholm area, and had been flown in at Nyquist's request. Most of the Army had stayed true to their oaths, and stuck with the new regime, although one full regiment from the Aaland Brigade, posted on the islands themselves, had pledged its support for the right-wing militant group known as the [i]Black Wolves[/i], and had attacked the Naval Facilities at Mariehamn, and the Marines and Naval Personnel were currently under siege. There was also danger in the fact that there could be sympathizers or spies in any unit, and plans and operations could be leaked, thus moving quickly to crush the Order of Falkenberg and its militant wing was of paramount importance.

"Thank you, comrades, for joining me at this late hour," said Nyquist, as he looked out the window into the night, fire could be seen across the river from the [i]riksdag[/i] meeting room they were now occupying. "Comrade General Horn, you have the floor."

Horn nodded, "The Black Wolves have, for the most part, retreated from Stockholm itself, although Colonel Nobel encountered resistance on the drive in from Sollentuna, am I correct?"

"Correct, sir," responded Nobel, who wore a patch from the 1st Regiment, 556th Incident Response Brigade, a counter-terrorism and internal security unit, that also specialized in response to attacks from weapons of mass destruction. "One of our vehicle patrols came under sustained fire when they passed by Haga Park."

"A reconnaissance drone using a thermal scope confirmed that militants have secured the park, sir," nodded an Air Force Colonel, leaning over and indicating a red flag. "They've dug in, and they have some access to heavy weapons."

"No doubt from the Solna arsenal," grumbled Nobel, referring to an arsenal that had been handed over to right wing militants the night before.

"We need to restore order in Stockholm, has there been any other points of interest?"

"Some irregulars with the Red Orchestra reported hostile contact in the Traneberg Suburbs, blocking the major east-west route towards the airport," answered the Air Force colonel, noting the other red flag in the Stockholm area. "We also have contacts in the Orebro Area, militants have roadblocked S18 and S20, and are astride the highway in force, with anti-tank weaponry as well as shoulder-launched anti-air weaponry."

"Gothenberg University was taken over by right wing militants, and some allied irregulars and local police reported they were repulsed from trying to enter multiple buildings on campus. There are also possible hostages on site," added Mannerheim, speaking for the first time in the meeting. "Militants also have firm control of Falkenberg, of course, as this is the bastion of right-wing activity in our nation, there have been firefights in Malmo as well."

"And then there is the Aaland archipelago," nodded Horn, looking at the islands on the map. "The 3rd Regiment of the Aaland Brigade mutinied, and is in control of Mariehamn, and have laid siege to the local naval base. The base commander has said they have multiple untended casualties, and they are taking sustained direct fire from small arms as well as heavy weapons, including some artillery fire. This is all on top of militants who are running around the country in groups of ten to twenty people, which is enough to overwhelm local loyal police forces."

"How many soldiers can we muster in Stockholm right now?" asked Nyquist, looking at Horn.

"Currently? We can muster about thirty thousand effective for offensive operations."

"Its fairly obvious that the Black Wolves know that once we get coordinated, they're doomed, so they'll try to delay that as long as possible, maybe try to win international support. There has been a backlash against the French for going after Andorra," commented Caroline, looking at Horn.

"Yes, but Andorra [i]was[/i] and organized state before France swallowed it up, that being said, these are disgruntled fascists who have nothing to lose, its unlikely that they'll be able to muster up significant international support, especially before we can defeat them or at least reduce them to patrol-sized elements," responded Mannerheim, with a sigh.

"Mariehamn and reopening S18 and S20, as well as mopping up Stockholm should be our main focuses right now," declared Nyquist, after thinking over the situation for a moment.

"I could take a company from Battalion 1120 to Gothenberg," suggested Mannerheim, Horn and Nyquist looking at her. She shrugged, and said, "I'm a graduate of Gothenberg University, the city is my home."

"One of the regiments from the Guards could be used as a strike team against the militants that have formed pockets in Stockholm," nodded Caroline, looking over at Horn.

"Agreed, Caroline will be responsible for the clearing of Haga Park, as well as opening a route to the airport," nodded Horn, addressing the council of war. "We are forming an ad hoc battlegroup comprised of the Naval Commando Regiment, as well as units from the Orebro Cavalry Brigade, and the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Unit, which will be responsible for reclaiming the Aaland Islands. The Navy has confirmed that there are two amphibious ships that are carrying two battalions of the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Unit in from Lulea, and they will be on station, along with a couple light ships and a destroyer. Any last remarks?"

"Remember, our enemy by now knows that his days are numbered, but a desperate enemy is the most dangerous of enemies. Victory is assured, but do not take it for granted," said Nyquist, in a calm but foreboding tone.

[TheShammySocialist]

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMhhpX5gg8A][b]Queen takes Castle[/b][/url]

Caroline of Bernadotte hastily picked her way along the line of troops that had strung out in a drainage ditch next to Highway 4, the imposing woodlands of Haga Park and the Haga Palace Complex dim in the early morning light. The Second Regiment of the [i]Gamla Stan[/i] Brigade, formerly known as the [i]Livgardet[/i], had taken up positions alongside pro-government forces from the [i]Red Orchestra[/i] militia, the militant arm of the Swedish Socialist Front which had organized itself in response to the assassination of Theo Nyquist. Behind Caroline, Aden Dawkins, the politician-turned soldier, a veteran of the war in Central Asia, and her newly-appointed field aide, and promoted to Captain, followed her closely. They had been inspecting and talking with company commanders throughout the pre-dawn hours, ensuring all of them knew their tasks, and giving out encouragement to soldiers who appeared like they needed it.

"Welcome back, ma'am," hissed Sergeant Ephraim Vanier, who was lying against the ditch with the brigade headquarters security platoon. Vanier had a grim but determined face, that had been smeared black with wet soot, like all their faces had, to help them blend in with the darkness. The sun was starting to break over the horizon, and the air had become chillier, as it always did right as dawn broke, all of them expelling faint wisps of heated vapor into the air as they huddled in the ditch.

"Thank you, Sergeant," nodded Caroline, giving his shoulder a pat as she laid down next to her headquarters troopers. "Any movement?" she hissed, looking up at a designated marksmen, who was looking through a thermal scope.

"Not much ma'am, they've got sentries, a couple shots were fired down on the left wing not too long ago," responded the female soldier, sliding down into the ditch again.

"No reports of casualties, though?" asked Caroline, as she rubbed her hands together, then unslung her assault rifle, and gripped it.

"Nothing, ma'am," responded Vanier.

Caroline looked at her watch, then commented to Aden, who had remained quiet throughout all this exchange, his senses alert and he looked around attentively, "Five minutes until we hit, we can only hope that the mortars and artillery can keep their heads down."

"Agreed, ma'am," nodded Aden, looking at Vanier. "Sergeant, make sure to keep your machineguns mobile, and move with us, in case the headquarters section needs cover."

"There is a small depression in the ground about seventy-five feet or so in front of us, if need cover," reported the Sergeant, with a nod.

"Good man," whispered Aden, then looking back at Caroline, who nodded, and moved towards the top of the ditch, like most of the troops had done as the time to go "over the top" had come.

Caroline of Bernadotte had not donned a military uniform for the better part of four years now, having attended reserve officer training while she was in university, and like most royals, had been given basic military instructions. As part of her functions as Queen, she was the formal commander of the [i]Livgardet[/i], and had grown fond of its members and the unit. Those same individuals were now surrounding her, all wearing red clothes or sashes tied around their arms. This was the mark of the new Guards, and most of them had taken up their new identity with vigor and fervor, all had been given an option to muster out of the Armed Forces before they had made the switch, and a few hundred had made that walk. They were not shamed for doing so, they were not heckled, they silently left the ranks after Caroline had declared clemency for all who did not want to be affiliated with this new unit and the armed forces of the new government. As she reasoned, there was time to win their approval later, most had stayed, Caroline was probably one of the few in the unit that had not seen any real combat, most were veterans of Central Asia, or campaigns with the German Army before Sweden gained its independence.

There was a lump in her throat, and she felt a little nauseous as she watched her watch tick the seconds down, she swallowed heavily, and shivered, the cold feeling more biting then usual, as she kept her hands tight around her assault rifle. She looked over at Aden as he crawl to the top of the ditch, but didn't look over the top, he looked at her, and nodded confidently. She gave a nod back, and looked at the muddied ground beneath her, wanting to sink in it at this point, she swallowed another breath, and steeled herself, knowing that she was scared, but she was determined not to show it. Her eyes flicked to her watch again, the seconds hand suddenly hitting five-thirty, and there was a sudden thump behind the other side of Highway 4, where the regiment had set up mortars and light howitzers. The crash and boom of artillery rounds began to suddenly fill the air, as the artillery pieces began burping rounds over the highway and into Haga Park, where there was a sudden cacophony of yells and shouts.

Machineguns, assault rifles, and various weapons began to burp, and rounds began to fly all over the huddling Guards, bullets spitting up clumps of duff in front of them, and in the reverse side of the ditch. Aden was looking at Caroline, who flinched when a bullet sent a clump of duff flying all over her, and she tried to keep breathing steadily, as she felt the lump in her throat return. He nodded at her again, looking at her with confident eyes, if Aden was confident in her, and he gave her a nudge on the shoulder with his hand. She snapped out of her reverie, and half sputtered, half yelled out, "Up you Guards, up on your feet! Let's go!"

She surged up into the maelstrom, followed by Aden, and Vanier, along with five other soldiers, in the usual Swedish tactic of 'maneuvering sections'. Instead of staying in one large group, tactical doctrine dictated that platoons were split into squads, that were further broken down into sections of six soldiers each, with a machinegun for each section. The other section would give covering fire, while the other advanced, then vice versa. It was a more flexible tactical doctrine then the normal fire and maneuver, as the sections could easily fend for themselves in a modern battlefield setting, and could maneuver on their own. Bullets zipped and whipped around the squad, which was joined by a line of sections that moved forward into the storm, cries ringing out as a few were hit as they crawled out of the ditch and moved forwards towards the woods that weren't that far away.

"Down, down, down," called out Aden, as a number of machineguns barked out from the Black Wolf lines, and the troops dived to the ground.

Caroline dived to the ground, and as the first line of guardsmen dove to the ground, their rifles and machineguns began barking out, as they returned fire on the Black Wolf lines, which were about one hundred yards away. Caroline was breathing heavily, and she felt her finger instinctively hit the safety off, and she began pulling the trigger on her assault rifle in small bursts, like she had been taught during training. Vanier's machinegunner set up his weapon right next to Caroline, and the machinegun began pouring hot death out, as the gunner, a Lance-Corporal named Luther, pulled the charging hammer back and opened fire, the rounds shattering undergrowth and splintering small trees that were around their opponents' lines.

"Concentrate on that machinegun!" yelled out Vanier, as Caroline reloaded her assault rifle quickly, and opening fire again, at a slower rate. Suddenly there was a line of vapor in the air, as a loud "thump" was issued, and a rocket exploded, shattering three guardsmen laying nearby and showering Caroline and her section with dirt, shrapnel, and even blood.

"They got rockets!" yelled out the female soldier, the designated markswoman.

"No !@#$!" exclaimed Vanier, as he directed Luther to fire at where the rocket had apparently come from.

Aden crawled forward to a tree, and was able to get up on his haunches, loading a grenade into his under-barrel grenade launcher, nodding at Luther to hold his fire for a moment. As Luther switched his line of fire to the right, Aden leaned out, and with burst of smoke and what sounded like a loud 'bloop', launched the grenade in an arc towards the machinegun that had opened up again on them. There was a crash, and a faint help as the machinegun went silent, and Caroline signaled her hand forward and nodded at the sections on either side of her, and they struggled to their feet and ran forward with a yell.

"Keep them pinned! Move up! Move up!" yelled Aden, as he moved forward right with Caroline, opening up as the line began picking their way into the woods, which afforded them some extra protection with the trees.

"Rocket! Rocket! ROCKET!" yelled Vanier, firing at an insurgent who had popped up from a hole, about fifty yards ahead of them, with what looked like an AT4 Rocket Launcher, the operator fell backwards as red spray erupted from his chest from Vanier's shots. The man's finger must have been on the trigger, and the rocket went off into the air, slamming into a tree above Caroline and the soldiers around them, many of them stumbling to their knees from the force of the blast. Caroline had half fallen, half flung herself to the ground, as a small branch came down, and knocked over Luther, who had been moving near Caroline, as well as falling on the former monarch, the landing of the branch causing Caroline to yelp out faintly.

"General!" yelled out Aden, as he dived down next to her. Vanier dove down in front of them, as was standard for headquarters security if there was an officer down, using their own body to protect the officers. He opened up with an assault rifle, as Aden shook Caroline, who grunted as she grabbed her assault rifle, and nodded at the veteran Captain.

"I'm okay! I'm okay! Just close, that's all," she grunted out, as she pushed the branch off herself. Luther grunted as he adjusted himself, also pushing the branch off himself, and began opening up with his machinegun again. She patted Vanier on the shoulder, and shouted over the din, "I'm good, I'm good!" Vanier nodded, and stood up almost instantly, as he changed his clip, as the section got to their feet again. Caroline swallowing the lump in her throat again, as she felt Aden give her another firm nudge on the shoulder, and she propelled herself up on shaky legs and they surged forward again into the cacophony of crashing, cracks, and zips, smoke and gunpowder hot in the cool morning air.

Edited December 10, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k75OJtmw9nI][b]Night on the Town[/b][/url]

Staff Sergeant Ingrid Hamm held onto handrail gently as the SUH-60 Reduced Visibility Helicopter tore through the night over Gothenberg, peering over the shoulder of the helicopter's air force door gunner at the lights of the city. The soldiers of Charlie Company, Battalion 1120 had been briefed only forty five minutes before of their new mission, at a hanger at Gothenberg City Airport, as there was little time to do preparation for this mission. Intelligence was scant, and there were hostages on the ground, and their opponents had made the threat to kill if they didn't get their long list of demands. Demands they knew that the new Swedish government couldn't make, and demands they weren't going to receive either, it was a long shot, at best, and they knew they were forcing the new Nyquist government to show their hand.

Bewildering to Ingrid, was the presence of the new Commissar of Internal Affairs, Dannika Mannerheim, riding along in her helicopter, along with the Company commander, her old platoon commander, Lieutenant Erik Gotthard, now Captain. In Gotthard's absence, Ingrid had become the de facto platoon commander, as the senior sergeant. Mannerheim rode next to Gotthard, conferring over notes as they flew towards the center of the city, and Gothenberg University. The university had been a target for the Order of Falkenberg's propaganda for nearly a year now, and there had been scuffles on campus, as well as small clashes with campus and city police and right-wing demonstrators in the area.

Flashing blue lights could be seen below as a convoy of tactical police trucks, which the Company of special forces operators were to support, were roaring towards the campus. The operation was just set to begin, more flashing blue and red lights could be seen around the administration building for the university, just ahead of them. Instead of leading the operation, the special forces operators had not been given official engage orders, and would let the police try to settle the matter themselves, if they could. While the tactical police squads were good, and were probably immeasurably better at handling hostage situations, and Ingrid conceded that, if the hostages had already been executed, a direct action against the militants were better handled by the battle-hardened special forces operators that flew in the helicopters around them.

"Watch your fire, Airman, we got hostages down there," said Gotthard, who had leaned over to pat the door gunner.

"Yes sir."

"This is Ruuika, one minute until we breach the perimeter," buzzed the tactical squad leader, who was riding aboard one of the trucks that screeched to a halt below them, and disgorged its troops.

"Dagger 1-1 Lead to all Dagger Victors, establish flight vectors, begin support operations, marksman teams weapons hot," called out Mannerheim, into her microphone, as Corporal Johan Stenbock opened the sliding side doors on the helicopter. Erika Mannheim, a lance-corporal, who also specialized as Ingrid's original designated markswoman, took up position in the center of the crew cabin with her Mk 14 Enhanced Battle Rifle. Ingrid held onto a rail, sitting next to the side door, and peering out, as she saw the twenty two police tactical operators begin moving swiftly into the park below.

"Constable one actual, we're breaching the perimeter and moving towards the target building now, watch your fire up there, Dagger Flight," said Ruuika, as the police operators moved swiftly from tree to tree.

"Eagle Eye 4 copies your traffic, One Actual, good luck down there," responded Erika, giving a thumbs up at Ingrid, who gave a smile, and nodded back.

Ingrid flicked the safety off on her ACR, holding the weapon against her chest firmly, as the police team neared the back of the building swiftly, and without incident. There was a tension in the air that they all seemed to feel, as no shots had been fired yet. The helicopter they were riding in a circle in front of the building, leading the other five SUH-60s, as one of the three smaller tactical helicopters in the aerial convoy hovered near the back of the building to provide fire support. As they flew wide around the back of the building, giving the smaller "Little Bird" helicopter room, Erika spoke up, glancing quickly back at Mannerheim, "Tactical squads prepping to breach."

Mannerheim just nodded, as the police team began placing breaching charges on the back doors, the tension in the air rising as the tactical police team members could be seen moving to the sides of the door they had placed the breaching charges on. Ruuika's voice crackled over their headphones again, "Breaching, NOW!" The two breaching charges blew in the back door of the building, and the police teams began moving in, but it did nothing for the tension in the helicopters circling above. Suddenly, a line of light shot out of one of the windows of the building and into the air, then a red flare exploded in the air above the area.

"Flare in the air! Flare in the air! Did anyone see where that came from!?" yelled Gotthard, who was observing from the doorgun position.

"Nothing on thermal, sir," called out Erika, as she swung her EBR over and surveyed the window using the weapons' thermal scope.

"That was a signal," yelled Mannerheim, "Constable One Actual, pull out of there, pull out of th-."

As she was yelling into her microphone, the back wing of the administration building seemed to explode into shreds as an explosion engulfed the structure, the shock wave hitting the helicopters and rocking them violently. Stenbock grabbed onto Erika as the helicopter rocked backward heavily, as the lance-corporal almost slid backwards out the half-open sliding door behind her. Suddenly tracer rounds ripped through the night, and Ingrid saw as a machinegun in one of the east wing windows opened up on the small helicopter whose pilots had been shocked by the blast, and was violently maneuvering as they tried to regain control.

"This is Dagger 6, taking heavy fire, co-pilot is hit, I repeat, co-pilo-," came a yell over the communications headphones, as the helicopter was hit by well-aimed machinegun fire, and it slammed into a tree in the park, exploding in a ball of flame.

"Helo down! Helo down!" yelled out the pilot of Ingrid's helicopter, as the doorgunner opened up on the east wing with the six-barreled twenty millimeter cannon, spent casings flying everywhere as he sprayed along the entire east wing wildly.

"Constable One Actual, report! Ruuika, respond!" yelled out Mannerheim, as she grabbed onto the rail next to Ingrid, and looked out the side door of the helicopter.

"This is Catapault Five, Constable One Actual, we have a large delivery lorry on Vasagatan, just came off Vastergatan, moving at high speed," yelled out one of the police units that was on the perimeter of the siege.

"Weapons free, Catapault Five, they're trying to breach the perimeter!" yelled out Mannerheim, leaning back and belting out at the pilots. "Get the gunner an angle on that truck! Now!"

"Copy that ma'am!" yelled the pilot, as he banked hard to get the side gun an angle on the approaching truck. The gun began spitting rounds at the approaching truck, which Stenbock and Ingrid both brought their assault rifles up and began firing bursts at the front of the vehicle, before the helicopter flew over a building and blocked their line of fire. The helicopter circled again, and small arms fire could be seen coming from the university administration building now, as police officers and the insurgents inside began opening up on each other. As they passed into view of the lorry again, the vehicle's driver appeared to be dead, and the truck hit a line of police spike strips, and turned hard to the left, only to topple over on its side and sliding down the street in a streak of smoke and sparks, slamming into two police cruisers before coming to halt.

"Keep that perimeter secure, we need to move in on foot!" yelled Mannerheim into the radio, looking forward at the cockpit. "Get us a clear landing zone and drop the ropes!" But as the pilot moved towards the southern end of the park behind the now-smoldering administration building, a second explosion rocked the scene, as the truck blue up in a huge fireball.

"Truck bomb! Truck bomb!" yelled Gotthard, as shrapnel flew through the air, whizzing past the helicopter, which was a good three hundred yards away from the obliterated vehicle and nearby buildings and cars.

"Report!" yelled out Mannerheim. "God damn it, northern perimeter, Catapult Lead give me a status report!"

A croaky voice came over the radio net, between coughs and yells, "We just got hit with a shrapnel bomb ma'am! We got at least twenty officers down up here, we are combat ineffective here!"

"Dagger 1-1 Lead, this is Raven Eye, we have FLIR signatures on the scope of a nine vehicle convoy converging from side streets to the west of your present twenty, possible insurgent convoy en route," crackled an air force officer, whose team had a reconnaissance drone hovering overhead.

"Copy that Raven Eye, moving to intercept, keep us posted."

"Possible hostiles coming out the front door! Wait! Wait! Hostages confirmed! Hostages confirmed!" yelled out the lead besieging police officer on the shattered northern side of the perimeter.

The helicopter settled over the building across the street, as the airman aimed his doorgun at the front entrance, and the squad watched as a large number of young adults were pushed out the front door, followed by at least twenty insurgents carrying weaponry. Most of them had guns to the heads of hostages, and Mannerheim called out, "All units, hold fire! Hold fire!"

One of the insurgents was yelling through a bullhorn, that could be heard above the din, "We will be given safe passage, you will not interfere!" As the insurgent began belting out his message, a line of nine vehicles ran through the ruined streets around the destroyed shell of the truck which had carried the bomb pulled in front of them, a number of them vans, with the doors already open.

"Orders, ma'am," called out the doorgunner, the barrel already spinning and ready to fire on his gun.

"Hold your fire God damn it! We have hostages down there!" yelled out Mannerheim. As the last of the insurgents piled into the vehicles, there was a warning alarm in the front of the helicopter.

"We got a missile lock on! We got a missile lock on! Going evasive!" yelled the pilot, looking back with fear at Mannerheim.

"Got a target in the upper west wing window!" yelled out Erika, who had her rifle trained on the west wing of the administration building.

"Damn it, take the shot! Take the shot!" yelled Mannerheim.

Erika's rifle cracked, as the missile was fired, and they all felt the helicopter bank away as gunfire erupted in the streets below, as the vehicles attempted to make their escape. Flares and chaff flew into the air, as the helicopter turned hard to the right and banked around. Ingrid could see the missile headed straight at them, as one of the escape vehicles rammed into a blocking police car, knocking it out of the way but also disabling itself in the process as the other vehicles made their getaway from the police cordon around the building. Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut as she saw two officers get rammed into at full speed, as she felt the missile explode behind them on a piece of chaff, which showered the helicopter with shrapnel, the helicopter shuddering, and a red light blinking in the cockpit, but the pilots quickly regained control, and steadied the helicopter.

"God, DAMN IT," belted out Mannerheim, as she punched the side of the helicopter with the bottom of her fist. She turned to the cockpit, and yelled out, "FOLLOW THOSE VEHICLES! NOW!"

"On it ma'am," called out the bewildered pilot, as he banked around.

"Dagger 1-1 Lead to all Dagger Victors, proceed in pursuit, let's go. Raven Eye, I need your eyes on those vehicles."

A string of confirmations crackled over the radio channels, as Gotthard, who had been gripping the rail next to the doorgun as he unshouldered his assault rifle, and looked over at Ingrid, giving her a grim nod. "Looks like we're going for a night on the town, Sergeant."

"Pity, I didn't bring my heels," responded Erika, below her, trying to lighten the mood, as the line of helicopters tore after the insurgent vehicles.

Edited December 13, 2011 by TheShammySocialist

[TheShammySocialist]

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ePw5-70JZk&feature=related][b]Relief of Aaland[/b][/url]

Sergeant Markus Palme crouched down in the Landing Craft Utility as tracers flew over the Marines' heads, for all their training, the journey from their ships seemed to take twice as long, and the time seemed to slow even more slower, each passing second felt like a minute, every passing minute felt like an hour. Three patrol boats were leading the convoy of small boats and landing craft into the harbor. Automatic cannons were blazing, machineguns were rattling, the sound of shells ejecting and rolling on the floor of the landing craft filled the air. Five men had been hit in the aft section of the landing craft, and were crying out in pain as medics tended to their wounds.

Markus moved over to one of the machinegunners on the starboard side of the landing craft, and peered over at the dark shape of the island in the predawn light. Tracer rounds were flying in every direction it seemed like as they passed by. One of the navy's large patrol vessels tried to shield the landing craft from fire, while doling out its own venom in the form of high-velocity 57mm shells. As Markus looked over the side, a round from one of the naval vessels hit something on shore, and caused it to explode in a ball of flame. He ducked down as bullets pinged against the side of the landing craft, and he moved back towards his platoon leader, Lieutenant Drexel Johanssen, who was crouched down among the men of the platoon, many of whom had lain down to avoid the constant fire they were taking.

"Better keep your head down Sergeant! Wouldn't want you to lose it!" called out Johanssen, calmly as he ducked slightly as an automatic cannon round flew overhead. They all ducked lower as a shell took a chunk out of back of the wheelhouse of the landing craft, sending shrapnel everywhere. The landing craft suddenly veered out of formation, as the coxswain had pulled hard on the helm in shock, but he quickly righted their course, as they sailed into the maelstrom.

"That was too close!" yelled out a marine to Markus' right, who clutched his assault rifle close to himself.

"Cavalry Lead, this is Castle Keep Lead, we multiple units currently trying to breach our perimeter, looks like they're trying to push in before you get here, we need you here yesterday," crackled the voice of Mariehamn Naval Station communications officer over their headphones, his voice sounding strained.

"Copy your traffic Castle Keep Lead, our boats have got the hammer down, they'll be there in less than five," responded Rear Admiral Erik Coombs, who was leading the task force that was meant to relieve the beleaguered naval station.

"If this keeps up much more, we'll be fish food in less than five!" yelled out Johanssen, as the gunner who Markus had been standing next to on the starboard side was hit, going down with a cry. A marine nearby quickly picked up the momentarily uncrewed gunmount, and pulled the charging hammer back, and continued to keep the fire going, the gun barrel steaming as the rounds continued to fly. Splashes began falling around them, as another barrage of mortars began falling on the boats, one round hitting the patrol vessel to their port in its stern, knocking out a machinegun posted there. "Remember to keep moving when you hit the beach! Maintain your intervals! I don't want a whole squad taken out by a single mortar round!" yelled Johanssen, as a small riverine boat next to them exploded in a ball of flame, causing them all to duck.

"BEACH IN ONE MINUTE!" yelled out one of the landing craft's crew, posted near the bow ramp.

The patrol craft to their starboard had cut their engines, they couldn't go any further, and now the landing craft and boats were on their own. The seconds seemed to get longer, as rocket rounds flew over their heads, intermixed with tracers and automatic cannon shells. Markus looked up to see the ramp on the landing craft dent inwards as rounds slammed into it, a few automatic cannon rounds tore holes into it. Some soldiers up near the front of the landing craft had begun leaning over the side of the landing craft and were firing machineguns or assault rifles, as well as grenade launchers, as they neared the beach.

"Steady boys! Steady!" yelled out Johanssen, grimacing as they watched two marines torn apart near the bow section, who had stood up to provide suppression fire, by automatic cannon fire.

"Almost there!" yelled one of the naval personnel, as he peaked over the bow.

The boat shuddered hard when a rocket slammed into the wheelhouse, finally demolishing it, the spot where the coxswain stood now engulfed in flames as the landing craft suddenly veered to starboard, and ran aground on its port side. But the naval personnel at the front manning the ramp struggled with the automatic control, which wouldn't disengage the front ramp, and rounds began slamming into the landing craft, the fire in the demolished wheelhouse sending black smoke into the air, as the landing craft lost power. Johanssen looked up forward at the struggling naval personnel, as holes were blown into the side of the landing craft, and he suddenly yelled, "Over the starboard side! Go go go! Off the boat, over the side!"

Markus propelled himself over the side, tumbling over the side with nearly one hundred other marines, he suddenly found himself in water over his head, hitting the bottom of the sand. He grunted out, and expelled his air when another marine slammed into his back and he struggled, trying to get to the surface. He pushed himself off from the bottom, and broke the water's surface, and began struggling around the side of the now disabled landing craft. Luckily the brass had only ordered weapons and ammunition for the mission, along with one days' supply of rations and water, and the marines were not encumbered by a full load of gear. As they struggled around the side of the boat, Markus ducked underwater suddenly, as three marines were hit by machinegun fire, and he swam underwater, crawling near the bottom as he struggled ashore, finally finding himself in the surf line.

Marines from other boats were moving ashore, albeit slowly, as light artillery fire sent up spurts of sand and blood, and machinegun fire raked lines in the sandy surface of the beach. Johanssen was leading the bloodied naval infantry ashore, pulling men out of the surf line, clearly in the enemies' line of vision. Markus lifted himself out of the salty, sandy, bloody water, spitting out the disgusting concoction as he propelled himself to his feet and began sprinting towards a sea wall. "Move up! Up the beach Marines!" yelled out Johanssen, as the Marines sprinted up the beach.

The company that Markus' platoon was tasked with, was assigned to secure a peninsula that jutted out next to the naval station, where the enemy had set up heavy weapons to pound the base with. As he ran up the beach, Marines could be seen landing at the naval station docks, most of them destroyed, to their left. As the Marines scrambled up to the seawall, Johanssen was calling into his microphone, which was dripping water, "Cavalry Delta-3 Actual to Wolfhound 3-2, we're taking heavy fire down here, requesting double Sierra Bravo Deltas at grid section 5-9-Alpha, danger close, repeat, danger close."

"Copy your traffic Delta-3 Actual, we're coming in hot, hold on to your panties down there, ladies," crackled a voice in their headphones, as Markus looked up to see a flight of two jet fighters zip past.

"Watch your heads!" yelled out Johanssen, as they all huddled beneath the sea wall, as two 250lb guided munitions slammed into enemy positions on the reverse side of the seawall. The blast seemed to numb Markus' hearing, and he cringed as dirt, shrapnel, and mist rained down on them. Markus had clenched his eyes shut, and he heard over the ringing in his ear, "Up and at 'em Marines! Go, go, GO!" He gingerly picked himself up, and nodded at Johanssen and they climbed over the sea wall and charged into the maelstrom, the Battle of Aaland had been joined.

[TheShammySocialist]

Caroline of Bernadotte leaned back against a tree, her eyes unmoving as she stared at the ground, around her, the men and women of the [i]Gamla Stan[/i] Guards lay about her, or were milling about the shattered grounds of what had been Haga Palace. It had taken half the day for the regiment and militia units she had led into battle to secure the grounds, and as the midafternoon sun cut a swath of light across the sky, the soldiers rest their exhausted bodies. Most of the brigade had not slept for the past forty-eight hours, since operations began to clear Stockholm of insurgent forces, and the battle they had just won had drained them of the last of their energy, their adrenaline was no longer pumping, and most had collapsed after the battle was done, many falling to sleep immediately.

Caroline cast her helmet aside, and tore her hair from the half-undone bun it was in, her blonde hair disheveled and dirty as she ran her hands through it, before she just gave up, and lay her head back against the tree. Her eyes traveled down her multiple-green colored camouflaged fatigues, which were covered with dirt and mud stains, as well as black soot from the cordite that still hung in the air and made it thick. Smoke was coming from the shell of the Haga Palace, which required five rounds from the one-hundred and five millimeter gun of an armored car in order to storm. She felt achy all over, her energy was spent, as she struggled to pull a bandage wrapped around the middle of her hand tight, where a piece of shrapnel had cut a line across her palm.

"Looks like you had a good night last night," chuckled Aden, as he limped over, gingerly walking on a bandaged ankle, where a ricochet had hit him and drilled through his boot. A field surgeon had removed the piece of shrapnel with little fuss, but walking on it was a totally different matter for the combat veteran.

"Shut up," said Caroline, halfheartedly, as she gave him a tired smile, and closed her eyes.

"That an official order ma'am?" asked Aden, as he collapsed onto the ground next to her with a grunt.

"Yes."

"I was listening into the NORDCOMM," said Aden, offhandedly, as he produced a cigarette from a pack and lit up. "First Regiment secured the route to the airport about thirty minutes ago, took some heavy casualties."

"Good, I was hoping to get in a vacation to somewhere exotic after this, those right-wingers were in the way of it," nodded Caroline, lethargically, as she opened up her eyes and looked at Aden.

He just laughed, then said, "Glad you made it through, General, I was a little worried at first."

"So was I," she said, albeit in a whisper, that he didn't even seem to catch. She couldn't blame him though, her ears were still ringing from the cacophony of battle they had just witnessed and bore themselves through. Despite Aden smoking next to her, something that she always frowned upon, as she just didn't like the smell of cigarettes, she didn't say anything about it. "Any word on the Sergeant?"

During the attack on the palace itself, Ephraim Vanier had volunteered to direct fire from behind the armored car when it arrived, as the cars' scope had been damaged by hits taken from a machinegun. Ephraim had managed to guide the vehicle's gunner to direct four well-placed shots, and then completed the fifth when an RPG round exploded against the car's cage armor as he sprinted away from it to cover. The blast had thrown him forward into the trench that Caroline and Aden were in, with Luther, giving the Sergeant covering fire as he performed his duty. Vanier had been peppered with a large amount of shrapnel across his back, although some of it had been stopped by body armor, there were a number of large pieces of shrapnel that had entered into his back and legs. Caroline had helped two medics carry the wounded combat veteran out of the man-made hell, while Aden led the final assault on the mansion.

Aden took a drag from his cigarette, and looked at Caroline, whose lethargic face showed some lines of worry, before he said, "They got him to the hospital in the city, he should be okay, he's in surgery right now."

"Good," she nodded, her body relaxing as she leaned back against the shattered tree again.

"Relax, ma'am, we did fine," said Aden, as he punched her arm gently, before collapsing onto his gear satchel with a grunt.

Caroline had felt nervous since she had donned the uniform, and as she closed her eyes, those nerves had steadily melted away since she had joined the battle for Haga Palace. This was as much a test of her as a leader, as it was a test of being able to defy death, and walk straight into an environment where the next second could see your death. It had taken the encouragement of a veteran like Aden to keep her going at times that morning, and though she felt accomplished with herself as she felt sleep overtake her tired consciousness, she also felt slightly ashamed of it, but this was her first "rodeo", she and her troops had succeeded, at a "satisfactory" cost, something which Caroline abhorred to think about, to complete what they came here to do. The former monarch's olive drabs or "ODs", were "dirty" so to speak, and the best way to learn was to experience, and she had learned some valuable lessons...

[TheShammySocialist]

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCsI_QqGcyc&feature=related][b]Exposition[/b][/url]

Instead of making a getaway out of the city, the chase had last all of a few blocks, as the convoy of vehicles had arrived at the Swedish Exhibition and Congress Center, the reconnaissance drone above watching occupants and their captives leaving the vehicles clustered around the Hotel Gothia entrance. The helicopters had given a close chase, and as the insurgents made their way inside, the helicopters did a fast insertion on top of the tallest tower of the Hotel Gothia twin towers. Instead of the entire company landing, Ingrid's platoon, which was flying in three helicopters total, were the only ones to land on the tower, the rest being rappelled down to street level, as security forces began to establish a new strengthened perimeter around the building. Elements of a nearby airborne brigade were being trucked in as well, to provide extra security around the building.

Ingrid dived onto the top of Hotel Gothia, rolling to a crouched position, Mannerheim and Gotthard quickly diving out as well, the squad establishing a perimeter on the roof as the other two helicopters disgorged another twenty troops, before quickly buzzing away. Ingrid grimaced as dust was kicked up, as the helicopters pulled away from the tower, leaving the twenty-five special forces operators alone with the Commissar of Internal Affairs, who pulled out her NORDCOMM laptop. As she set it up, Ingrid ordered two members of the squad to secure the door leading to the rooftop.

"Raven Eye, this is Dagger 1-1 Lead, we're now on the Hotel Gothia rooftop, confirmed, Dagger Lead has landed, I need an entire blueprint of the convention center downloaded to my laptop now," said Mannerheim, speaking into her microphone, as Gotthard crouched down next to her.

"Copy your traffic, Dagger 1-1 Lead, we'll have that information downloaded to your twenty in less than five, give us a moment to access Gothenberg's electronic building archives."

Gotthard looked over at Ingrid, "Sergeant, you're up."

"Alright, this place is huge, so everyone, remember to maintain your intervals, check your corners, and watch for possible flanking moves. If we need to do a search of this hotel, we stay in a group, and go floor by floor, three to a room, two enter, one cover, check your targets before engaging, we could have hundreds of unarmed civilians in this place," said Ingrid, looking around her squad, which had all turned their attention to her.

"Dagger 1-1 Lead, this is Raven Eye," crackled their headsets, "Security office in the convention center just put out an alarm on the police band, armed intruders are entering the warehouse area of the convention center."

"Copy that Raven Eye, are there any conventions currently going on?" asked Mannerheim, as she looked up at Gotthard.

"None are in show right now ma'am, but a convention was supposed to start next week, so there is a lot of items and equipment currently in the warehouse attached to the convention center. We're hacking the security camera feeds right now."

"Ahead of the game, Raven Eye, I like that, keep me posted," said Mannerheim, before standing up and lookinga round the platoon of operators. "Once we have information on the building schematics, we will sweep and clear the entire convention center, second and third platoons will remain outside and will provide reinforcements if requested. The militants came here for a reason, this is not random, and we need intelligence on why, Raven Eye, do you have information on relevant video feed from the University Standoff."

"Yes ma'am, going mobile on your laptop," replied the Air Force operator over their headsets. The laptop began switching screens to an identification program, where a picture of a burly man came up in a mugshot, the same man who had been yelling on the bullhorn at the University Administration building. "This is Drexel Laatimeken, he's a known right wing militant who ran a militia until we shut it down about two months with a court order, which he did abide by. He's got significant ties with Yves Sturmheld, he was dishonorably mustered out of the Swedish Army, from the [i]Jamtland[/i] Rangers, actually, because he got multiple infractions for getting into scuffles for political views, as well as being an apparent security risk."

"Sounds like a nice fellow," said Stenbock, who was standing next to Ingrid.

"Blueprints ready?" asked Mannerheim.

"Yes ma'am, switching to them now, the warehouse appears to be the rallying point for these insurgents, there are three sub-warehouses in this building, all of them have five aisles of three-story-high scaffolding storage units. There is a mezzanine that runs around the perimeter of each sub-warehouse, and each sub-warehouse is divided by a forklift or transport vehicle corridor, as well as offices, intelligence suggests that the insurgents are occupying the first sub-warehouse, and the security office just went offline, which is located in the corner of the first sub-warehouse," replied Raven Eye, all of the information being presented on the laptop remotely by the Air Force operator.

"Any luck on the security cams?"

"Still in the process of accessing them ma'am, we'll get through."

"Alright, thank you Raven Eye, keep us posted," nodded Mannerheim, before turning to Ingrid and her platoon, as she packed up her NORDCOMM laptop. "We sweep and clear each sub-warehouse, before moving on the first sub-warehouse, keep it frosty."

[TheShammySocialist]

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH7DH2_sVUg][b]Like Thieves in the Night[/b][/url]

The pervasive eerie quiet the loomed over Sub-Warehouse Three was unnerving to Ingrid as she led her platoon into the large warehouse, quietly opening a side door from one of the transport passageways and stepping inside first. She swiveled right and left as the small group entered, double-checking corners as the platoon formed a rough semi-circle around her, Gotthard, and Mannerheim. Ingrid signaled for the platoon to move forward, using a hand signal, and the platoon split in two, moving quietly along the outer walls of the warehouse, around boxes, checking around corners every time as they moved forward, their weapon silencers attached.

Ingrid flinched, as the voice of Raven Eye filtered into her ear, "Dagger Lead, Raven Eye here, we just hacked the security cameras, we got new intelligence for you."

Mannerheim, who was moving swiftly behind Ingrid, whispered into her microphone, "Go ahead Raven Eye."

"We have an secondary HVI on the premises, repeat, secondary HVI on the premises."

"Identify?"

"Yves Sturmheld, former leader of the Order of Falkenberg, wanted for-."

"I know the charges, Raven Eye, I wrote them myself, where is he located?" hissed Mannerheim, as they reached the far wall, and moved to a doorway that would lead across another transport hallway to the next warehouse.

"Sub-Warehouse 1, there appears to be a meeting."

"Status on hostages."

"Fifteen hostages on site, all of them are currently being held at gunpoint."

"Can you get audio."

"Negative."

"Keep me posted, Raven Eye."

"Copy that."

"Let's move," whispered Mannerheim.

Ingrid motioned for Stenbock to slip a fiber-optic cable underneath the door. Stenbock brought out a small handheld device, and slipped the fiber-optic camera under the door, rotating it right and left as he looked at the screen. He then looked up at Ingrid and Gotthard, shaking his head, and quickly began putting the camera away, as Ingrid reached forward and opened the door, and moved out into the hallway, followed by Stenbock. Stenbock slipped the fiber-optic camera under the next door, as Raven Eye came back over the headphones again.

"Dagger Lead, we have twenty tangos currently in Sub-Warehouse 1, with two guarding the outside door one warehouse over."

"Suggestions, Raven Eye?" asked Mannerheim, as Stenbock and Ingrid checked the next warehouse, which was also devoid of life.

As the team moved forward into the second warehouse, the radio crackled, "There is a stairway in Sub-Warehouse 2 to access the mezzanine, which is connected with the mezzanine of Sub-Warehouse 1 via a mezzanine bridge in the transport hallway. There appears that there might be a clear shot on the two guards from there with silenced weapons, but it'll have to be quick. From there, you have a commanding view of the entirety of Sub-Warehouse 1."

"Thanks for the intelligence, Raven Eye, we're moving now. Gotthard, you take the rest of the platoon and prepare to storm the warehouse on my signal, check your fire on my orders. Sergeant Hamm, Corporals Stenbock and Mannheim, you are on me," ordered Mannerheim quietly, as they entered the second sub-warehouse. They moved over to a metal frame staircase, and ascended it up to a second level overlooking the warehouse before proceeding along the outer wall to a door at the end of the wall. Mannerheim signaled Erika forward, and using hand signals, ordered the young special forces operator to take the shots, while Stenbock opened the door.

Ingrid crouched down next to Mannerheim, ready to moved, as she swiveled her gun around to their rear, keeping the small squad covered. Stenbock gave Erika the thumbs up, and nodded an affirmation, before opening the door, and Erika quickly stepped out, and with two concentrated bursts of quiet coughs from her assault rifle, dropped the two masked individuals in the corridor below. Mannerheim signaled to Gotthard's group below that the two guards had been eliminated, and they moved to the outside doors of the last sub-warehouse; Mannerheim's group above, Gotthard's group below.

"Fiber-optics," whispered Ingrid, nodding at Stenbock, who ran the cord underneath the door, and looked at the screen, showing it to the members of their group. Mannerheim pointing at the figure who was talking to the gruff man who had been on the bullhorn at Gothenberg University.

"Take them alive, if you can," she whispered, as they prepared to breach the warehouse. Erika reloaded her EBR, and Stenbock got in position to open the door, as Mannerheim signaled to the other group to go on their mark. Mannerheim turned back to her small group, and all of them nodded at her, and the Commissar hissed, "Do it."

The door flew open as Stenbock threw it open, and the four special operators piled out onto the Mezzanine, with Mannerheim yelling out, "Yves Sturmheld! You are under arrest by the People's Union of Sweden!"

Gotthard's troops breached, and took up covering positions below them, as the Black Wolves militants and the leader of the right wing party whirled around, at their presence. The insurgents had swung most of their guns on the special operators, although some still had their guns on the hostages, many of whom yelped when they heard Mannerheim's voice boom out. The insurgents seemed equally surprised, except for Sturmheld, who just laughed, and retorted, "Why, Commissar Mannerheim, I didn't expect you to be doing dirty work yourself."

"Let the hostages go, Yves."

"And lose my only bargaining chip? I think not, what's to stop you from mowing us all down once they are out of here."

"Wouldn't be too bad of an idea, but I got orders to bring you in."

"Ah, Mr. Commie Nyquist wants to get a shot at me in the interrogation room, does he?"

"Under the law, you have a right to a free and fair trial," called out Mannerheim, the special operators stood with their fingers on the triggers, their guns steady.

"You and I both know that I won't even make it to Stockholm alive."

"I guarantee you will."

Sturmheld looked at her for a moment, then called out, "Drop your weapons."

Laatimeken looked strangely at Sturmheld, and Sturmheld yelled out again, "Drop your weapons, all of you."

He had a menacing grin still on, which unnerved Ingrid, as his eyes looked over the Swedish special forces operators, as the insurgents began dropping their weapons, and Gotthard's team moving forward to kick them away towards the door. The hostages were all clamoring, many were crying, as two of the team below began escorting them quickly out. Sturmheld and his insurgents had dropped to their knees, and had their hands on their heads. As the last group of five hostages began moving for the door, Ingrid was breathing a sigh of relief, her weapon lowered slightly, and she was looking at Stenbock, who seemed to be tense and out of breath from the entire exchange, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Sturmheld grabbed something from the back of Laatimeken's belt, and before the team could react, they heard the all-to-familiar sound of a pin coming out of a grenade, as Sturmheld yelled out, "FOR SWEDEN!" The grenade flying through the air, as Erika stood up and with a burst of fire sent Sturmheld spiraling backwards, bullets striking him across his chest, killing him instantly.

"GRENADE!" yelled out Gotthard, as if in slow motion. Ingrid could see the round object fly through the air towards the escaping hostages, and she watched Gotthard scramble back towards it. The other insurgents had dived on the floor, fearing for their lives as the explosive device hurled through the air.

Ingrid and the others scrambled to the floor of the mezzanine as the grenade went off underneath them in a crashing sound, which seemed muffled. As Ingrid lifted her head, her ears ringing from the explosion that had echoed through the warehouse, the muffled yell of "CAPTAIN!" downstairs only meant one thing...