War in East Africa

[Zarfef]

OOC: Actually smuggling of arms was probobly one of the major things they were looking for, for if you weren't supplying them there would be a good chance you were supplying Nod with some. Although such a small number of arms would seem odd.

[Comrade]

OOC: Just enough arms for 3 people. Not a whole shipment. Now if we can stop the OOC drabble and RP the shot...

[Firestorm]

OOC: My point being you failed to rp how you got into position to make the shot. Crappy rp is crappy rp. Now go do it right.

[SpacingOutMan]

OOC: I'll respond ASAP. I'm back, but internet is really !@#$%*.

[Executive Minister]

IC:

A loud 'crack' was heard, Boris looked up and saw a sniper, whos markings were unlike any involved in the conflict and watched as a Heavy Infantry sniper yelled "Sniper!" and moved to engage.

Boris looked down. Below him was the Elite Cadre Commander - his fearsome armour was unable to fully block the powerful round, and he lay there, bleeding.

"Jeremy! Move the tank forward, Luiz, you have fire control, I want that sniper dead!"

Boris, jumped down from his tank, and rushed over to the fallen leader, blood visible underneath him - he would not last long. Boris was not worried about his own safety - there were still plenty of NoN forces between him and the UMS, and Jeremy had positioned the tank between himself and the unknown enemy sniper.

"Hold on! You will be fine comrade!" Boris pushed a button on his armour and called in for medivac, to no avail - all medical teams were presently busy - the UMS bombardment taking a toll on NoN forces elsewhere.

"...what have I accomplished in this life?" Boris was surprised to hear the fallen Commander's speech. He was under a lot of visible trauma, and each word was punctuated with pain.

"Surely, your actions have benefitted our great nation Comrade, do not worry, we will remember you and your men's sacrifices..."

"...I have the blood of men uncountable on my hands..." the Commander continued."I have seen the atrocities of war and the hideous excess of peace.

Boris was now looking at the Commander, this was his final declaration, and Boris respected the man's desire to a legacy of his choosing.

"...there is nothing left for me in this world... I have seen the wholesale slaughter of men, women and children. I have bore witness to the burning of entire villages and cities - my hands holding the flaming torch, other times my hands have thrown water..."

Boris looked up, to see the HI Sniper fire a shot in the unknown menace's direction, to no avail, the man got away...

"I have been knee deep in blood, spitting fire at my enemies in a great arc... every time I had emerged...victorious..."

...but here I now lie... I have no more to do and be remembered by than war..."

Boris looked at the man...his helmeted head was hiding his face, but Boris knew the man was dead. Boris looked up, shook his head, and then left the man, rejoining his tank and his crew, and preparing himself for his own sacrifice...

OOC: take it away comrade

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[SpacingOutMan]

Through binoculars the sight was both spectacular and menacing all at once. The sky bled ashes as flames engulfed rooftops and long lines of windows. Scarce bodies could be seen, consumed by their fiery demise, crushed into oblivion by catering bombs. The stench of burning flesh even reached the mobile Mechodamian lines as balms of bullets scurried across the shrinking distance between them and the Kolfe district.

"Patriarch St. George, in the strafing run we lost a few fighters. Yellick, Chaucing, St. Ongle, and Henderson being the notable few. Any others are currently unknown. Our northern and southern flanks are holding tastily with little to no qualms noted. The advancing lines have been hit with moderate damage from the defending forces, but nothing to even give a small worrying glance toward. In others words, sir, so far so good," Callin crackled as Zemunda steadily clicked his comm. link.

The city, growing larger and larger, ceased to grow. The UMS lines had quite literally all stopped at once, at the pre-designated mark of 450 yards... just as planned. Six Pegasuses still had some powerhouse bombs left in store, and now the grenadiers were well in range of placing their laser markers.

The heavy weapons times lagged a bit behind, though that was all added into the equation. RPG-32 Hasims were light weight and packed a powerful punch, with each Purgatory team carrying around five for maximum capacity. Immediately as the lines hunkered down men wielding these powerful beasts cradled them on their shoulders, waited for their second man to load the rocket, and then removed the safety, and unleashed a flying warhead capable of piercing most modern-day armor.

A wall of these rockets were blasted, staggered as a means to prevent mid-flight collisions. XM-8 fire was soon to follow, but not without a fight. Bullets whizzed across from the retreating enemy lines.

"They are definitely falling back now..." St. George calmly stated. He pondered the thought, but still wasn't satisfied. Not yet, his mind urged. He pivoted down into the tank and established a comm. link with Commander Callin.

"Callin, I need an update on the ground status of the Nodic forces. What is the recon telling us?"

"A whole lot of nothing, really. The bulk of their forces are falling back to the major roadways, most likely falling back to either fallback points or the city's heart. However, there is a small portion of forces that are remaining hunkered down with relatively no movement... unfortunately it's hard to say what is flowing down from the north as the smoke from the runs have distorted satellite imagery. It'd be best to wait it out and relinquish the will of this minor contingency force and steer clear of Rt. 7," her voice confidently struck as she closed the link.

The fire of XM312s were finally heard, signifying that the Purgatory teams finally reached their deployment zones. MK-47s began belching hideous grenades as they slammed into the earth.

"Fire control," Zemunda began, "gather the coordinates recorded by the recon teams. I want the remaining Pegasuses to launch their payloads on the retreating forces. I also want Artillery teams A, D, and Y to begin immediate bombardment of the remaining forces standing in our way. Artillery teams C and F will compensate for their shift in firing solutions. FB-22s are to harass the retreating forces with napalm and carpet bombs, however keep them at a relatively high altitude as antiaircraft are still present in sporadic areas.

I want eight recovery teams to begin an air-to-ground assault on the middle of the Kolfe district and recover all noted fallen aircraft. Ospreys are to be escorted by preventing measures pursued by F-22s and F-35s. Let's do this boys..." His lonely eyes gazed into the sky... clouds weeping in sorrow.

[Comrade]

Roe ducks as a Counter Sniper round smashes into the ledge before him. He makes a run for it, hopping buildings like a nut. Before he goes, he presses the button on the device. A large picture appears from it, almost like a screen.

"Good Day soldiers of Nod! As you can see, my reach still lives. So you have decided to forsake your prophet? The World is a karmatic place my brothers. Already the world shakes with anger as you expand your heresy. It is not too late brothers, redemption is always around. Forsake your false prophets. Rejoin the Brotherhood."

"Or Face Death. ONE VISION, ONE PURPOSE"

The device shorts out, frying itself. Roe falls of a building after watching this, smacking into a back alley, his rifle broken.

[Subtleknifewielder]

xxxxxxxx

Edited August 4, 2009 by Subtleknifewielder

[Executive Minister]

X

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[Zarfef]

As the battle was normally waging on... something happened... something odd happened. Almost as if on cue, the forces of Von Zak stopped their advance from the North and south. A message was sent out to the UMS.

Von Zak: We hear that a cease fire was accepted of acceptable nature was given by your end and we accept the terms of this cease fire as well... We will hold our fire if you hold yours while the talks continue.

Edited August 4, 2009 by Zarfef

[Comrade]

Archon Roe rolls over, lamenting the loss of his rifle. He takes out his pistol and notices that his spare clips are missing.

Great, he thinks to himself, I got 18 shots to make it back to the Brotherhood hideout and this town is tearing itself apart.

[Executive Minister]

X

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[Executive Minister]

IC:

The bombardment was so fierce, Boris could not discern each individual explosive impact...

Boris and his crew were hunkered down, their AH-DM position placed protectively behind an abandoned apartment building. Each enemy grenade or shell would be hard pressed to make it over the structure, most impacting harmlessly on the building's face.

It was in positions like these that the NoN forces were clinging so desperately to. The whistling of falling ordinance was deafening, filling the dusk with white streams and ominous fireballs. Like rats holding on to floating planks during a ship wreck, many men were preparing themselves for death beneath the shadows of the burnt out Kolfe district.

The square itself, a giant crater, was not as lucky as the NoN were... like a giant bowl filling with rain water, the enemy grenades and shells impacted the already desecrated site with impunity. Once in a while, a shell would land precariously close to a NoN position, with most men evading the explosion, only to be felled by the shrapnel kicked up.

Underneath this unrelenting barrage, no fire could be seen by UMS commanders from the NoN.

"I do not want any weapon's discharges! The enemy must be fooled into thinking we are either completely dead or have retreated with the Light Infantry! Only then, when the enemy is upon us, may we strike back! We must tie up their recon pickets at once, so that supporting artillery will be too dangerous to call in! The UMS will be forced to reinforce, and the battle will be on our terms...the UMS will NOT be able to leap-frog their way into Addis Ababa with their artillery if we have our say!"

Boris did not like being the ad hoc commander of an entire Cabal's worth of Elite Cadre and Heavy Infantry... Boris was not equipped with the menacing Black Armour-Carapace system - he and his armoured platoon stood out like sore thumbs amongst the armoured men.

Boris did not share the same brutal training regimen that the additions to his command had...nevertheless, he was the ranking officer now that the Elite Cadre Commander was dead.

As the bombardment continued, Boris reflected on what had happened...

The shot, the sniper, the dead commander.... the message that followed the shot was more troubling than any of these.

'Blast that Kane....he always did have a problem with dieing and leaving well enough alone...'

Boris' less-trained tank crews had expressed fear and surprise when faced with Kane's visage... the general concensus being that he was killed before the Great Divide, nearly 20 years ago - the Kane showing up on the screen had not aged at all!

Boris had been a young Light Infantry Sergeant back then, and although being absent from the final Battle of the Great Purge due to shrapnel injuries sustained during the opening moves of the Battle of Addis Ababa, was well aware of the fanaticism that Kane evoked from his followers.

The others - Elite Cadre and Heavy Infantry, however, did not display any emotion at all. Some displayed anger and gave the 'I'm going to slit your throat' motion to the image, hoping that Kane himself was on the recieving end. Most just stared at the screen, their grips on their weapons tightening.

As dusk turned to night, and night turned to twilight, the bombardment stopped! The men slowly emerged from their hiding places and rushed to take their ambush positions... The UMS would have this, and other NoN tricks to deal with - the Siege of Kolfe had ended, the Second Battle of Addis Ababa had begun...

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[Comrade]

Brotherhood Of Mol Command Center

Kotka, Molakia

Boris...or Kane rather, smiles as word of his message has spread back home.

"You cant kill a Prophet....Is the Tsar aware of who I am?" he says, lighting a cigar.

"Yes your Holiness. The Family is aware and pleased. They ask what you plan to do."

"I plan on....doing what needs to be done."

[SpacingOutMan]

OOC: Zemunda is a sourpuss when it comes to war. We have a northern flank moving down the major highway due east, north of the Kolfe district. Essentially they are just rounding around Kolfe into the northeastern district.

The western-most forces are, indeed, advancing toward Kolfe. They stopped at 450m outside of the city limits.

A southern force is advancing northeast-like, hitting the Kolfe district from the south west, and parts of various districts (if any) south of Kolfe. Mind explaining CQC? I don't have the thinking capacity, at the moment, to figure out what this means.

[Executive Minister]

X

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[SpacingOutMan]

X

Edited August 6, 2009 by SpacingOutMan

[Generalissimo]

The following intercepted communication proves beyond a doubt everything I’ve said so far, if feel free to verify it yourselves.

"Good Day soldiers of Nod! As you can see, my reach still lives. So you have decided to forsake your prophet? The World is a karmatic place my brothers. Already the world shakes with anger as you expand your heresy. It is not too late brothers, redemption is always around. Forsake your false prophets. Rejoin the Brotherhood."

"Or Face Death. ONE VISION, ONE PURPOSE"

Kane Lives?

Specially addressing those who doubted my sanity in past – I told you so, but did you listen?

Did you listen?

You called me a delusional paranoid but this proves beyond a doubt that I was right about Kane, Nod, and the connection to the Brotherhood of Mol.

This changes everything. . . Procinctia will immediately intervene - as soon I can decipher what exactly is going on.

Don’t think Kane’s scheme is beyond the brilliant deductive mind of Generalissimo.

From the office of Generalissimo, Generalissimo of Procinctia

Edited July 10, 2009 by Generalissimo

[Comrade]

(OOC: That was a local message Gen...Idk if you would see it, but word of mouth...but even then, only the people in the area would see it.)

[SpacingOutMan]

The comm. link opened up, scattered but still available to understanding.

"An unidentified projection appeared in the city by several sniper teams, but then it bleeped out by what seemed to be a self-destructing device. We are unsure what the message said, but we are assuming it was propaganda to help bolster morale."

Zemunda cursed under his breath. "Persistent bunch these guys are..." he muttered as his fingers tapped the steel of his tank. Returning gunfire had dropped drastically, now degraded to a few stray bullets. With a bellow rich with valor and tenacity, hands gripped around a loud speaker, his lips cried out in the shivering cold of night:

"My brothers, sisters, countrymen... we sit here on the verge of victory. A war of principle we have fought these few months now. You have fought honorably and your eyes have discerned self-glorification. Be proud of your accomplishments brothers, for today... today we make our final advance. Addis Abba shall fall. Peace shall prevail. Operativa Exterminata is now in effect.

Tonight, we take this battle to the urban streets. Tonight, we wage this one final battle to end this frivolous war they wrought. They brought this war into light. Now let us be the harbingers of closure as we take the war to their homestead. Watch over your comrades my fellow warriors, for we dig into the belly of the beast.

Onward! Advance and you shall taste the fruits of justice!"

A roar of cries pierced the calm night as the cavalry divisions created a V-formation, shielding the infantry divisions. Ospreys pushed forward, escorted by F-22s and F-35s. Paratroopers were to be deployed in certain regions to recover downed pilots, though their fates were already presumed fatal.

The artillery belted out their last round of shells into the cornerstone of the Kolfe district, and began concentrating fire on Rt. 7. FB-22s dropped strings of pummeling bombs across the roads leading toe Rt. 7 as a means to cut off easy escape.

And with that the full brunt force of the UMS forces drew clear into the side of the Kolfe district, laying a mobile fire as the 450 meter buff slowly disintegrated...

OOC:

EDIT: Now that we are moving into heavy urban warfare, I'm going to be RPing from a squadron perspective now instead of an entire front from Zemunda. This is just to prevent confusion as I will be posting with Callin now instead of St. George.

Edited July 12, 2009 by SpacingOutMan

[Executive Minister]

IC:

...as abruptly as the artillery barrage started, it stopped.

Boris looked into his tank's view finder. Over the debris mound his tank had made, he could make out the shapes of several enemy MBTs rolling towards their position. UMS soldiers scurried about, accompanying them.

"Steady! Steaaaady! I want no weapons discharged until the enemy is breathing down our backs!"

Boris had ordered his tank's AH-DM so deep, he would barely be able to extract his Defender from the pit. His tank was completely covered, only the dual cannons and autocannon had enough clearance to engage the enemy.

"Luiz, hows the top cover?" Boris had tasked the Top-Gunner, Luiz, with covering the tank's top and rear, to make sure approaching enemies would not be able to notice their tank. Luiz' job was almost done for him - the tank's turret was a ghost grey, the result of plumes of ash and concrete dust, matching perfectly with the mounds of vapourized concrete and rubble that used to be Kolfe Square, pummeled into oblivion by the heavy barrage.

"Good, I think this position will hold up to anything, bar enemy infantry, sir"

The enemy was so close, Boris could make out the individual men slowly making their way over the ridge made by the collapsed apartment building. When the enemy noticed everything was clear, several enemy tanks rolled over and made their way into the square!

Boris looked up, the sky was filled with roaring as several UMS planes flew past, towards Addis Ababa proper. No doubt they would try to strafe the falling-back NoN forces in the area. Boris was not worried, most of his tank crews were well-versed in anti air movement tactics, and Sgt. Mertens was leading the men through pre-determined passage buildings. Boris figured that the jets would see very little to bomb, except the many AA-guns the city had, the pop-up 'Spangle' SAM sites and the Thrasher SPAAG systems dispersed throughout the city.

Boris looked to the left. Several Cells of Heavy Infantry and Elite Cadre were pressed against the wall, blending in almost perfectly with the ruins. The men had coated their once black carapace armour with grease and were covered in a grey mat-finish of powdered concrete. Boris watched as several heavy 'Stabber' Anti-tank rocket launchers followed the backsides of the enemy MBTs slowly, and silently...

Over a closed channel, Boris whispered to the men, although he didn't have to- he was speaking over a secured, local and extremely short-range battle net.

"Everyone's bayonets should already be affixed... Defender Platoon 1, I want you to concentrate fire on the tanks approaching the ridge. Defender Platoon 2, engage the enemies to the south, keep that flank under fire! You will be supported by Heavy Infantry Cell's 5 and 6. Platoon 3, make sure no one gets any ideas and tries to approach from the North. Cell's 1 and 3 are on standby."

"Devastators 8 and 9, stay in those alleys behind us! Move out and mop up any of these tanks that the Elite Cadre cannot finish!"

The two behemoths were lieing in wait, just behind the square. They were to move out and engage the leading enemy tanks up close and personally incase the Heavy Infantry and Elite Cadres missed with their 'Stabbers'. Then, the two Devastators would move down the square towards the front, side by side, crushing any other opposition in the square. The enemy would not know the fates of their dead frontline, and would send reinforcements, keeping the battle up close and personal, eliminating the enemy's air-superiority and support artillery.

Boris looked around him. Several more tanks had made their way into the square, over the ridge, filling the death trap. Soon, Boris saw several infantry squads entering the square... Boris would have to launch the strike now, or else the more alert UMS infantry would notice the ambush.

"Everyone knows what they have to do... Remember your training, and you WILL make it out alive!"

At this, Boris could see the collective movements of the men in the shadows and cover as the almost silent sounds and clinks of many rounds being chambered, machine guns being prepared and rockets being primed was audible over the comm.

"Fire at will! No mercy!"

Several whooshes streamed from the ruins of the right apartment building (OOC:the one Janus had previously occupied), the previously silent launchers belching out their 'Stabbers'. The square was filled with streams of smoke, as several hit the vulnerable rears of the enemy MBTs in the trap.

The enemy infantry still on the ridge made by the left apartment building were taken aback, some turning fire towards the left, the sources of the rockets had already displaced, vanishing, and were unprepared for the Heavy Infantry and Elite Cadre that were moments before a part of the ruined hill they were standing on. Black-armoured men literally threw off their covers mere feet away from the UMS, and soon a bloody melee brawl erupted on the hill.

"Aim gun! Fire!" Boris fired a shot at a still-approaching UMS tank behind the ridge. The shot hit true, but caused an obviously large explosion, the target covered in smoke.

"ERA! The enemy has ERA!" Boris fired another shot, then moved his turret to the next target.

"Fire! Aim, fire! Fire! Left! Left! Fire!"

Boris was in a trance, although he continued to fight, he ignored the several impacts around him and his crew in reprise, his mind wandering elsewhere. Great yellow seas of wheat filled his head - he was a captain of the sea, driving his combine with as much dignity as the haughtiest battleship captain. His mind also drifted towards his home, his beloved Hilda, and his two sons, currently in military training - too young to be involved in the fighting. As thump after thump came from Boris' tank, the autoloaders whined evermore, as if complaining about the rate Boris acquired, aimed and shot at his targets, the noise soon interrupted Boris' thoughts, waking him to the cruel reality infront of him.

Back on the ridge, out of the corner of his eye, Boris saw two men struggling near a ruined wall. An Elite Cadre soldier was trading blows with a UMS rifleman. The pair were dancing a deadly dance - the UMS man struck out with the butt of his rifle, the blow aimed for the side of the armoured man's helmeted head.

The armoured man parried the blow with his barrel mounted bayonet, inches from his head, only to release a catch on his rifle's butt - the man had a cruel trick up his sleeve - a Scorpion's Sting!

The 'Sting' as it was called, was a weapon attachment only the most accomplished and cruel Elite Cadre were permitted to take. It was essentially a hollowed-out rifle butt that contained a spring-loaded stilletto. At the flip of a switch, the blade would flip out, perpendicular to the rifle's barrel, giving a extremely lethal edge to a user's butt-strikes.

The Elite Cadre, keeping the UMS' rifle-butt near his head, struck out with the butt of his own rifle. Again and again, the blade punctured the unprepared man's guts. Boris watched as blood oozed from the wounds adding to the mess the brawl had already made, and followed the red trails of vapour as the blade repeatedly went in and out of the man.

Finally, the Elite Cadre stuck the blade in deeper, the enemy rifle dropping from its owner's hands. The victor hefted the man's body with the blade firmly dug into his gut and tossed him against the wall, only for a nearby NoN flame thrower to douse the man with fire. The flames seemed to plaster the man to the wall.

Boris looked to the right, several 'Torrent' gun positions were hefted into place, and streams of tracers criss-crossed the square's giant crater. Several UMS were cut down, but the UMS' forward spear was now fully sprung into action and soon return fire was seen coming from the crater's defilade.

The fire-fight was extremely intense - over the loud report's Boris' and the other tanks in the square made, Boris could hear several stay bullets impact near his position.

The apartments further East soon flashed, the Homeguard noticing the plight of Boris' men, the distant snipers aiding them. Several men were cut down by assailants they would never even hope to see.

The twin Devastators lumbered down the square, and fired several shots each from their dual main guns, the large shells erupting over the surviving tanks within the trap. As Boris kept firing over the crest, the Devastators fired a barrage of 'Spiker' 90mm rockets in the same direction, as several low-flying Ravager Gunships flew closely over their heads, and launched their own rocket barrages, as they made their own way to the enemies behind the hill.

Boris could see that the crest previously occupied by the entering UMS was littered with their torn bodies and injured NoN men. Triumphant Heavy Infantry and Elite Cadres tried going over the top, only for several air burst grenades to detonate above the ridge. The shrapnel thoroughly perforated some of the men, with others falling back, taking pot-shots over the hill.

A black-armoured Sniper stood on a cinderblock pile, and fired a shot at an MBT gunner, silencing the .50 cal gun, only to be engaged by three charging UMS soldiers that had waited on the other side of the ridge. The large rifle too unwieldy to use in CQC, the sniper dropped it and reached for his side arm. Three bayonets were thrust into the man at once, and the pistol dropped from his limp hand. As he was still on his knees, a UMS rifleman aimed, and fired into his chest, ending his life.

As the Ravager gunships started to fly backwards, the enemy fire being too heavy to stay put for very long, several streaks shot at them from the other side of the ridge... the helicopters fired their flares, but one rocket hit its mark, the now doomed pilot willing himself to crash into enemy-held territory, hoping to take a few more with him.

As an audible boom was heard on the other side, with the shrill tearing of metal and shattering rotor blades filling the air, the UMS charged over the crest. Each surviving Elite Cadre or Heavy Infantry man still conscious on the ridge faced at least two men each. Boris could see several downed troopers reaching for side arms, desperately trying to help their comrades hold back the tide of vengeful, bayonet thrusting men...

As the Ravagers turned back East, they aided the wall of men by littering the crest with minigun fire. Their welcome over-stayed, the helicopters departed down the streets, towards the center of the city...

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[SpacingOutMan]

Pilots were well versed in ground-to-air antiaircraft as they took to the skies, marrying the clouds in spinning formations. Lumbering rockets followed, piercing the matrimonial moment, dousing a near nostalgia amongst some of the aces. All eyes peered down as they prepared for a tactic seldom used: dive bombing. Out of range, out of sight, they swooped like synchronized divers through the clouds. They were, indeed, a force to be reckoned with.

They unleashed a Hellish air-to-ground strike, launching sidewinders and other various missiles in their arsenals at straying armored tanks, supply vehicles, or hastened last minute defense lines formed by soldier columns as the Mechodamian infantry approached. However, their target range expanded vastly as enemy gunships finally appeared from their roosts.

The raptors hungered in angered delight as they burst at full power toward the flying aircraft. With their top of the line air-to-air missiles, they launched an unholy barrage of missiles and chain gun fire at the gunships. Explosions engulfed one gunship as its right side was clipped, causing it to dip into an obliterated apartment complex.

---

And just overhead of this massacre reigned in the second wave: the FB-22s. Re-supplied with multiple tons of bombs, missiles, and other 'nifty' weaponry, their stealth kept them concealed amongst the clouds. That is, until a hostile supply unit came within sights.

Five bombers swarmed upon the trucks' position. Surprised by the roar of their super-sonic engines, soldiers attempted to scramble, but to no avail. The missiles had outran them as they were torn to pieces by the explosions. The trucks, filled with weapons, food, and gasoline, erupted into a hailed blaze. The cries of soldiers were imminent, but muffled by the tormenting wind around the pilots.

And as fast as they came, they reared up into the clouds, displaced amongst their perch. Their niche was impregnable. Anything that moved below was fair game to them, and they showed no discrimination. From military supply units to armored columns retreating, they showed equal prejudice in annihilating them.

Pilot Ackertes tapped his radar and GPS system as new coordinates had been set in by grenadiers below. The others had been notified. And with that eight more FB-22s slashed through the cloud coverage and converged upon this tiny blip on the map. However, it became apparent the reason why.

Two massive tanks were slugging massive rockets toward the advancing ground forces, accompanied by a beat down building complex filled with snipers and suppressing fire. Well, at least for the time being, Ackertes thought.

Like angels from the heavens they appeared out of nowhere and launched an entire salvo of bombs and missiles alike across the street, aiming towards the massive tanks and complex. A stream of explosions promptly followed, though success wasn't clear. From the visual aperture the building complex buckled and collapsed from the shear force of the bombs, but the street units were concealed be a billowing smoke. Nice job boys, prepare for a second sweep if those same coordinates come in, he happily announced over the comm-link.

---

Henderson awoke from his unconscious slumber. He groaned in pain as he looked around. The atrium that was held sacred to all pilots was shattered around him, with only the sky acting as his ceiling. His eyes glared at his comm-link as his finger pushed against the 'initiate button' to only receive a blank signal.

The sound of bullets and explosions rampaged through his ears. Burning wreckage surrounded him as he glanced over the side of his pit. The earth was right there. At the last moment during his crash, he smashed his fists against the eject button with success, but was clipped by his own beloved aircraft and brought down with it.

"How the $%&@ am I still alive?" he stammered as he fumbled around his safety harness. Undoing himself, he attempted to stand up in order to crawl over to his plane, but a sharp pain screamed down his leg. He immediately fell to the ground as he gave a quick yelp. Adrenaline kicked in.

He began to soldier crawl over to some nearby brush in order to gain some sort of cover. The last thing he needed was to be captured at a time like this. He pulled removed his AMT AutoMag V from his holster and leaned up against a nearby tree, loading his clip and removing the safety.

"Stuck behind enemy lines... fan-freaking-tastic. I better get a !@#$@#$ medal for this !@#$. Damn..." his voice trailed off as a few trucks sped by, apparently in full retreat from pursuing Mechodamian aircraft. Easy come, easy go, he thought as the aircraft pulled back up into the sky as missiles trailed after the trucks. One moment they were speeding to safety, the next they were churned up into the air, spouting unspeakable flames and explosions.

"I need to get out of here..." Henderson muttered to himself as his back hugged the tree, looking for his next advance position.

---

Through the belching smoke ten HAL Light Combat Helicopters appeared, followed by a single V-22 Osprey. High in the sky they looked down below at the grimacing sights, but shrugged them off. Captain Haffrin turned toward his crew above in the leading Osprey, "Alright boys, this is a search and rescue operation in extremely hostile territory. We have four downed pilots that haven't been confirmed as KIA. Guess what? We are here to make this confirmation or not. We are heading toward Pilot Hache's downed coordinates as we speak, and we are to make our way to Henderson's downed coordinates should that fail. We are looking for stealth ground ops here boys, so make sure you are on your toes and follow your training to the nail.

We have been together for seventeen years now training boys. We are the best of the best... let's show these !@#$%^&* what we are capable of." His head turned as the cargo doors from the Osprey dispersed, allowing the putrid smell of burning oil and flesh to croak into the aircraft body.

"We have ten HALs escorting us right now. Once we are on the ground, we have 0. We are going to be all alone boys... just the lonely eighteen of us. I wish I could say we have ground support, but we are pushing far behind enemy lines right now. Jocks, here, will be our only out if we need air support. Kellings over there is our voice, ears, and eyes. The rest of you... we are the hands who will produce both slaughter and deliverance."

He delayed a moment, and then shouted into his head-set comm link, "It's go time boys! On ground impact immediately begin Operation Ticking Bomb. We have two objectives here boys, let's at least get our boys out of the belly of Hell first so we can get the easy !@#$ done afterward." And with that spiffy little speech, attuned to a hard Afrikaner accent, he dove out into the sky, donning a clear parachute that as barely noticeable. His eyes raged upwards as his men dove out one by one into the dissident sky, the clouds circling above like menacing sharks.

We're coming guys..., he thought as the image of a sole individual popped into his head, hoping that he could see it one more time.

---

The bodies of men flew backwards as bullets blasted against their ceramic body armor. Some recovered, however some did not. Commander Callin winced in retort as she viewed the defending forces. "They lay down their lives honorable for their homeland... I will give them the respect of a speedy funeral," she mumbled to herself as she saw several FB-22s converge upon the two massive gun batteries [OOC: As you said EM, they are heavily entrenched and only the guns can be seen, so from the perspective of oncoming troops, it looks like a gun emplacement rather than two tanks]. The complex right next door was devastated with a decimation so trite.

The debris from the crumbling building overtook infantry in the streets as they were consumed by its monstrous breath. "Don't give them a chance to recover!" she bellowed as the two FGM-148 Javelin and three MK-47 Striker teams next to her mobilized. They began to unleashed a salvo of whirling grenades and 127 mm width rockets toward the 'gun emplacement'. XM307 and XM312 positions opened fire on the mounded guns as well, peppering whatever protection remained after the air bombardment.

Infantry diverged around the positions in their typical patterns, hopping through destroyed windows, coming upon enemy hostiles prepared to fight to the death. This close quarter combat, St. George had realized, wouldn't be advantageous to their units. Therefore all men were to operate within their respected squads, but with an extra perk. Their body armor were built around a ceramic body model, classifying at Level IV protection. However, as a means to assist in close quarters combat, infantry were equipped with modern day stab-spike repellent armor, ranging at Level II protection [OOC: ceramic body armor is, indeed, post-2005 with examples like Dragon Skin, but stab-spike repellent armor works on a Joules scale, with each progressing level being able to block a higher amount of exerted J. Level III, just for scaling, can block roughly around 45 J of work. Level II blocks 35 J of work. Turtle Skin MFA, as it is coined by the company BEST, is said to be in production roughly around 2011 on a mass scale. Just a tidbit of information. ] to block glancing blows.

What wasn't accounted for, however, was a pseudo bee needle placed at the butt of some weapons, but they were seldom seen amongst the enemy forces that it was a non-issue. It seemed that only the elite units brought such grotesque weaponry to battle. However, the stab-spike armor would be plenty to block swinging blows, but perhaps not calculated blows.

Callin grimaced the image of one man be slashed up the grown by one of these saber-like needles. Even with the armor it had proven ineffective. She placed the thought behind her. These stab-spike equipped soldiers not only carried the typical Mechodamian armament of the classical XM-8, night vision, ceramic Level IV helmet and body armor, flash bangs, hand gun, and combat knife, but also an elongated steel saber sturdy and sharp enough to slice through various metals [OOC: Think if Cutco made swords, pretty much.].

Through her binoculars not only did she watch the bombardment converge on the gun emplacement, but also as the storm infantry clashed with hostile forces. The most terrorizing part was that as she watched, bullets weren't rattling off into flesh, but rather men were in hand-to-hand combat.

She watched as one of the close combat specialists beheaded an enemy hostile lunging at him. Blood splatted against the wall as the helpless and limp body slumped against the floor... her eyes sat in dismay.

---

"These !@#$%^&* don't know when to quit!" Nicholas yelled as he watched the decapitated body shake on the floor. A man came up from behind him, attempting to smack him with the butt of his rifle, but a small bullet whistling past Nicholas' head and pierced the enemy's head.

"Watch your !@#$@#$ back you dumb piece of !@#$," Alex exclaimed as he slammed his pistol back in its holster. Nicholas gave a sigh of relief as he whirled around toward the doorway and slashed another man across the chest, only glancing the man's superficial body armor. Without hesitance, or kindness, Nicholas reared back his armors, two hands on the hilt, and stabbed the man in the stomach. With such force and tenacity blood spat out the man's back as the sword eased all the way through his body.

Pathetic insect... such flimsy armor... Nicholas thought to himself as a horrifying grin consumed his face. He had an insatiable blood lust known by his entire unit, but they never brought it up. Nicholas was a good soldier and everyone knew it... it was just his mental stability that came into question.

Alex also reared around and chipped his sword into the lower jaw of another combatant. "Sneaky bugger!" he shouted as he immediately slipped the sword back out and sheathed it. His eyes met the glowing eyes of eleven other men, and then the dead stares of three others. "There is nothing we can do for them men. We now sit in the extremities of the Kolfe district. Once this district falls, we can launch Operation Extermination into full effect. Our orders are to sweep these outlying buildings and flank an enemy position that is causing issues for advancing armor due east. Once we clear them, the armor can flank around the rear of the combatants and wipe out the remaining forces. This is our squad's task and if we fail, another squad will be charged the task. Do we want to squander our unit's honor!?" he shouted with fist held high.

The rest of the squad began shouting as Alex and Nicholas led them through a back room that was empty, and then into an alley way littered with dead Nodic troops...

---

OOC: A few story lines mixed here and there, but I think this should get interesting.

[SpacingOutMan]

OOC: I have, in all, five story lines that are in action as of now. There is 1. Pilot Ackertes who will be covering the air warfare and what not. There is 2. Captain Haffrin and his rescue operation departed to finding downed Pilot Hache, and then Pilot Henderson. There is 3. Commander Callin who will cover the advancing soldiers into the Kolfie district, and however further they push in. There 4. Pilot Henderson who is behind enemy lines, injured, and on survival mode. Finally there is 5., Nicholas and Alex St. Augustine, who are leading a squadron to break up a Nodic line of defense in eastern Kolfe.

Just so you know. With #4 it will be mostly internal monologue and observations as he is very injured and really can't do much amidst the bombardments and military clashes.

IC:

---

Pain crept up to his groin as he clutched his leg. It was apparent that he had fractured his leg in the crash, but to what extent he couldn't tell. It had to have been more than a hairline fracture, but it didn't breach the skin at the same time...

Lacerations covered his body with abrasions marked across his cheeks. He groaned with anguish as a grimaced frown broke the solace of his face. Henderson slowly crawled himself over to an alley way, making even more distance between himself and the fighter. He knew recovery teams were en route, but if they would make it in time he didn't know.

At the moment had had almost moved three quarters of a kilometer from the crash site. The sky cried with a deep passion as it began to sprinkle. It was on and off, but enough to give some soothing sensation to his wounds. The sun peaked on him again, reigning in distant light across this forsaken battlefield.

For the last few hours he had watched as wounded Nodic soldiers raced in full retreat down the now infamous Route 7 as fighters showed them no mercy. Even tanks lumbered in full retreat, armored plates hanging by only a few bolts and screws.

This is the true face of war, he thought as he inched his way into a darkened alley. It was desolate. Lonesome. Compact. It'll do, his mind sputtered as he arched his back and squirmed into the narrow passage. His hands gripped the handle of his handgun as he scuttled to the end of the alley, pressing his back against the harrowed wall.

One way in, one way out, his mind sadistically clamored as he sighed. His mind wandered a bit, trailing off into near unconsciousness...

---

Nicholas pushed his ears against the doorway, hushed voices whispering inside. From the alleyway they were perched they braced the door, placing high explosives across the exterior to blow a massive hole. He could hear the sounds of ammunition being loaded, safeties being flicked off. It was the time to strike. Lunging backwards he gave the thumbs up to the soldiers mounted around the corner, holding the detonator. He dove around the corner as a thumb flipped open a plastic casing and dialed a 360 degree circle.

A massive explosion imploded upon the combatants inside. "Clear the building. This is going to be our first station of operations," Alex ordered as he and several other men rushed by with XM-8s in hand. Their eyes peered into the rubble as wounded men cried in pain. "Tie them up, gag them, and treat any superficial wounds. We will place them in a more secure room once we clear the area."

One soldier raised his XM-8 to fire upon a fleeing soldier who dove out the window down the street. Immediately a man raised a long barreled rifle and squeezed the trigger, letting loose a hellion bullet that lashed through the air, both penetrating and exiting the runner's head.

"He's down," Calinger coldly announced as he harnessed the rifle to his shoulder strap.

Alex rubbed his forehead and signaled for his men to clear the area...

[Executive Minister]

X

Edited August 5, 2009 by Executive Minister

[Executive Minister]

IC:

Boris removed his headset. Although the ear pieces muffled some of the blast concussion of the UMS air strike, Boris still had to hold his hands over his ears. He was lucky to be able to hear.

"Those goddamn fools! Bombing us even with their own men amongst us!"

Boris looked at the crater in the center of the square. The defilade of the giant crater was silent, the forward tanks of the previous UMS incursion were ablaze. The UMS' fratricide was readily apparent.

"COWARDS!" Boris bellowed at the sky, as the dive-bombing assailants flew away, the pilots no doubt congratulating themselves on what they believed to be multiple enemy kills. Boris was furious. Although those men and tanks were the enemy, being killed by your own comrades held no honor in death - honor all NoN men sought when in battle.

However, UMS men weren't the only ones killed by the blasts...

The apartments previously occupied by Elite Cadre and Heavy Infantry anti-tank troops was obliterated by UMS heavy ordinance. The ruins of the already battered building flooded the square, bathing everything - living or dead - in a grey cloud of soot, dust and ash. Men too slow in displacing from their initial ambush positions were buried deep in the smoldering rubble, or were slowly emerging from the wreckage, some in a daze, others carrying less fortunate comrades.

Devastator 8 was heavily damaged, albeit still moving, its crew owing to the Devastator's redundancy systems. Boris could see the flames roaring from the tank's twin Asylum launchers. Boris watched as several explosive pins blew - no doubt a surviving crew member chose to eject the missile pods - and the two armoured cylinders rolled off the sides of the tank.

Its 'Deciever' system had worked, albeit without the efficiency Devastator tank crews relied on. Multiple missiles were diverted, if only slightly, which saved the tank. Its roof was covered by the pock marks the cluster munitions made, with several ERA panels loose and hanging by a few stray bolts.

Nevertheless, the juggernaut was still in the fight, and continued to move towards the UMS frontline, and soon left the open space of the square and entered the cover of the apartment ruins.

Devastator 9 was a complete loss, however. With its locomotive systems destoyed, the tank stood amongst a mass of craters left by multiple near misses. The bottom of its chassis was exposed, the armoured side skirts were bent upwards, like an umbrella in high winds, by the blasts. It would not move any longer, and was promptly scuttled by its remaining crew.

Boris looked back, towards the streets the aiding Ravagers had departed down. The UMS fighters had managed a few highly unlikely strikes at the helicopters amongst the streets below the city's skyscrapers (OOC: ) . One had gone down, the other was heavily damaged, the resiliency of the aging design showing.

Distant, muffled explosions were heard.

"Hmmph, there goes our supplies..." Command had made a half-hearted attempt at resupplying the doomed Kolfe Square.

"If the UMS' disregard for its own men's lives continues, at this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if they started nuking us..."

Boris was bitter, the sight of the enemy fratricide still burning in his mind. He looked to the left at two of the other Defenders accompanying him.

One was burning... the bombs had hit the tank right on the top of the exposed turret perfectly, igniting the munitions store. The submerged tank had become a funeral pyre and grave at the same time for its crew.

The other was still in the fight, its main guns were destroyed however, but it still had its 30 mm going strong. Boris watched as the tank backed up, out of its AH-DM and convinced Boris to do the same.

"Jeremy! Get us out of here, signal to the men that were are to take up Tertiary Defensive positions!"

When the tank did not move, Boris looked at his co-pilot. The young Ethiopian seemed unawares of Boris' order. As Boris was about to berate the driver, he noticed there was blood dripping from his ears... he was deaf.

Boris tapped Jeremy on the shoulder and yelled his order again. Jeremy looked in shock, but did as he was told.

"Blast!" Boris had forgotten about Luiz, his top-gunner. Boris pressed a button on his panel.

"Luiz, sit-rep!" No response was heard.

"Luiz!" Boris was worried, and unstrapped himself from his seat, even as the tank was backing up, away from the protection the submerged position gave them. Boris opened the hatch and stood on his seat. As he peered out into the open, a stray bullet bounced off the top glacis near his head. As Boris premptively ducked down, he could smell burning flesh. Boris stood up again and saw his AH-DM's frontal debris mound had taken a direct hit from a bomb, the tank's heavily reinforced top glacial armour had been superficially torn open, with shards of shrapnel imbedded in it and the front of the 'Scorpion Tail Turret'. It was hard to believe that only a pile of debris and a few meters of soil meant the difference between the loss of Luiz and the loss of the entire tank...

Boris sighed and slumped back in his seat, pulling down his viewfinder once more, and looked in. Boris turned and yelled to Jeremy.

"WE LOST LUIZ! BE... VERY...CAREFUL..."

The deaf man nodded and looked saddened, but Boris was unsure how this unfortunate arrangement would last.

As Boris said those words, several rockets and grenades were lobbed over the crest and the fierce struggle brewing there, towards his and the other Defender's positions.

The shots harmlessly impacted the mounds that made up their former AH-DM positions, the two tanks safe behind them. Almost in unison the two responded with their own shots. The tall turrets still above the mounds. The other tank had loaded incindiary rounds into its autocannon, Boris loading fragmentation rounds into his main guns. No doubt this would alert the enemy that they were facing fully alert and mobile tanks, not stationary turrets.

"POP SMOKE!" Boris commanded, as several grenades were launched from the remaining tanks. The Aerosol screens would protect them and hopefully others from further air strikes as the forces in Kolfe were forced to fall back.

"Sir, Sir!" Boris heard a strained voice in his comm set.

"Southern flank, report!"

"The flank is about to fold, several squads of infantry are attempting to flank! I repeat we are about to fold. One of our positions has been taken, we are displacing closer to you!"

"Confirmed, fall back, but keep to the shadows! Command has informed me that they are enacting the Hammerdown Protocol!"

OOC: More to come later on, I gotta go right now

Edited July 20, 2009 by Executive Minister