Let the games begin.

[Silhouette]

Senator Powell was decidedly nervous. His eyes wandered with terror across the graffiti plastered brick as he stumbled down the alleyway, into a fate unknown. Before he was even aware of another occupant in the alley, he had been knocked unconscious with a sharp blow to the back of the head. In the dark of a new moon, one might just see the assailant shake out his hand, to try to dull the pain of the attack. Even more curious would be to see the torso and legs of the senator disappearing into a pitch black hole in the wall, darker even than the surrounding passages.

When the senator awoke, he noted that he was tied to a cheap metal chair, new, but obviously well used. The smear of blood around the bolts was a dead giveaway. He looked up lethargically, not quite wanting to see what was in front of him, yet not able to assuage his curiosity. In front of him, he could see only the Silhouette of a well-built male, lit from behind by a directional light. Age and skin tone were indiscernible, and without anything to use in comparison, height and weight were a mystery as well. Even the voice was non descript.

“Senator Powell. I asked you to come here so we could have a little chat about your future. I understand you have been unfaithful to your wife.” He made a slight hand movement, and from behind his head, a stack of photos was placed on his lap. The hand that placed them there also held a torch that cast just enough light to illuminate the photographs. There were five, and each one showed the Powell in a unquestionably compromising situation.

“What do you want?” Powell was almost crying. Despite everything, he loved his wife, and he loved his position on the appropriations committee just as much.

“I understand you are conducting an investigation into private sector funds allegations. I want it to stop, and I want the records destroyed, or those photos get released to the press. I wonder what your poor wife would think of this, or your children. Poor Alice and Michael. Do you really want them to grow up knowing their father was scum?” The Silhouette’s voice was ripe with malice. He was clearly enjoying this.

The senator responded without a moments thought. “Okay, I’ll do whatever you want, but please, don’t let anyone find out about this, I beg you.” There were tears running down his face now, and the Silhouette was obviously pleased.

“If you keep your end of the bargain, Senator, you have my word.” Another crude hand movement, and for the second time in an hour, the senator found himself waking up with a sore head, and under a bright light, this time, in Sydney’s teaching hospital, with a doctor behind the light, checking for concussion.

“Senator, are you feeling okay? What day is it?”

Powell answered their questions, but he was by no means well. He dreaded what was to come next.

Edited August 27, 2009 by Silhouette

[Silhouette]

..."Welcome to NCBN, I'm John Burke. Our top story tonight; Investigations by the Appropriations Board and the District Attorney's office into the allocation of government funds into Wright Industrial, and a number of subsidiary companies, was today called to a halt after eight months of investigation. Senator Edward Powell, the Chair of the Appropriations Board, made no significant comment on the decision other than to say that investigations had turned up no leads into misuse of public funds.

A total of nearly 23 million Pounds was spent on the investigation, and this decision must have taxpayers wondering exactly what their hardearned money is being used for, if an investigation of such magnitude could be called off so suddenly after such an extensive period of time..."

The Silhouette clicked off the television. It could not have gone better. Any connection to him they may have found through their investigation in Wright Industries was now dead and buried, and he was one step closer to getting what he truly desired. The number of men who knew both of his identities could be counted on one hand. Everyone else dealt with him through a middleman, or, if they had to meet him face to face, he ensured that his face was cast in a deep shadow. That he was the headman of the largest criminal empire New Cymru had ever known was something few would ever realise. In the public eye, he was a well-respected entrepreneur, who donated large amounts of his personal fortune to charity, and had the ear of a great many senators. They would never know that he had blackmailed, extorted, and threatened just as many senators into his service. Once you had somebody under your thumb, they could never escape. By now, however, he had set his sights higher. Onto the Triumvirate, and, ultimately, becoming the de facto leader of his nation. For, with his great many contacts, and the acquisition of one defence contract too many, at least in the eyes of the establishment (if they ever found out), he had discovered one of the greatest secrets the leaders of his country possessed. And he could bank a lot of money on them protecting their ally and capitulating, rather than allowing the secret identity of a close friend to be disclosed to the world.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that last statement. He better hope the fact that he knows doesn't come into Subtleknifewielder's hands.

Other than that, I'm all for shadow plays, considering how my government's set up.

[Silhouette]

Colonel Jon Pritchard woke up in a dark room. He could feel tape, or something, binding his hands and legs so he was spreadeagle on the floor. Without warning, a lightbulb set into the ceiling was flicked on. His eyes screamed in protest as the photosensitive parts of his brain were overloaded. The pain was compounded as a booted foot contacted the side of his head. Jon could hear something cracking in his skull; a truly sickening sound. He was a soldier, but he had never been subjected to torture. A knotted rope came down across his bare chest. By this stage, although he wasn't aware of it, he was screaming. A continuous, blood curdling howl.

Eventually, the pain ebbed down to tolerable levels. He coudl finally hear a voice in the background. He tried to focus his mind, but everything was fuzzy. His ears perked up, however, when a particular name was mentioned. 'Patricia.'

"You wouldn't want Patricia to go through this kind of treatment? Would you Jon?" He tried to repsond, but couldn't manage it. His assailant, however, appeared to get the message. "No? Well then, if you still feel that way tomorrow, You will follow our instructions to the letter. You assignment will be sent to you electronically. You should recieve it in a few days, when they discharge you from hospital." A few moments later, the lights went out.

Edited August 30, 2009 by Silhouette

[Silhouette]

..."Thank you Kirk. In other news, we return to the shocking coverage of New Cymru troops moving across the border into the world protectorate. No shots have been fired, and no injuries or resistance reported. It does appear, however, that the troops are setting up some sort of defensive position along the traditional New South Wales-Queensland border. The Commanding Officer, one Jon Pritchard, had our journalist detained when he tried to interview the Colonel, and so far, the senate has refused to comment on the situation. Are we witnessing a drastic change in our governments foreign policy? Only time will tell..."

The Silhouette took a drink of his finest brandy in celebration. His plan was coming to fruition. It was like a game of chess where only one player could see the pieces. They were all oblivious to a plot being unvielled right under their collective noses. Soon enough, all would become clear. But by then, it would be far too late.

* Coded message to all nations with interest in the world protectorate region *

This is not, repeat not, a sanctioned action. These soldiers are not acting under official orders of the New Cymru Government.

[Subtleknifewielder]

"This move is not something we expected out of our closest ally."

***Classified***

Security was beefed up on the border of New Cymru, as well as the border with the International Protectorate. The number of men stationed on the border was doubled, and DEFCON raised to 3.

A message was dispatched to the Tirumvirate, scrambled, with a code only they, Richard Anderson, and Subtleknifewielder had access to.

"What in heaven's name is going on over there? If this isn't a sanctioned move, this has all the earmarks of some sort of coup attempt."

[Silhouette]

The coded reply was brief, as the government was scrammbling to find a solution.

'We have lost all contact with the troops in the region. We will not send in more troops and risk open conflict in a demilitarized zone. So far, we have no reports of injuries, or any aggresive action by these troops. It is the opinion of the Triumvirate thst the best response for now is to leave them be, until we have a more appropriate way to deal with the problem.'

In that short space of time, the Silhouette had been busy. All the pieces were almost in place. He was staring at the still frame of Anthony Harlem and Joshua Williams, thinking on how easy it would be. With a gloved hand, he slipped the photograph into a brown envelope. It would be posted the following morning, from a location half way across the city, and with any luck the Triumvirate would recieve it before the weeks' end.

OOC: sorry for the quality, I'm still hungover from last night

[Silhouette]

Williams, Gaunter, and Archer were all seated together when the photo was delivered. The package was obviously opened before being brought to them, but the security officers did not appreciate the significance of the photograph. Williams and Gaunter, however, were speechless. Archer still did not know the true identity of the Subtleknifewielder, so their reaction was as mysterious to him as it was to the guard.

"Care to tell me what is going on?" he ventured, not expecting much in response.

He wasn't disappointed. Williams stood and marched out of the room, only to return a few minutes later, the photograph gone from his hand.

"We have a serious problem..."

*Coded message to Administrator Anderson*

Harlem identity compromised, respond through secure channels only. Attempt at extorsion expected, please advise.

*Message ends*

Colonel Pritchard was too deep in now. His troops had secured the area, and, because of his order of complete pacifism to the locals, there had been little resistance so far. They were, in fact, not impeding any movement at all, simply occupying the territory. Even more surprising to him was that there had been no response from the government, since he had been expecting to be bombed to oblivion, especially after the attempted coup not too long ago. He let out a long sigh as a carload of university students rocketed by, the speakers ejecting long strings of heavy bass.

Senator Bryson was a leading house representative. He was also fully in league with the Silhouette, and knew the entirety of the plan. At least, he thought he knew. He was, though, just another pawn, albeit a pawn with an important task. The senate was already rife with ruffled feathers, and Bryson planned to ruffle a few more before the day's end. For the first time in weeks, the entire senate was seated, with the Triumvirate taking their usual seats, front and centre, but still amongst the rest of the senators. Bryson, from his second row, left hand seat, stood, and with all the pomp of a country gentleman, began a long winded and altogether boring speech about duty, responsibility, and honour. Nobody was really listening until the one sentence pricked through the grey fog of their minds.

"I hereby issue a motion of no confidence in the current leadership of the Triumvirate, and their handling of this and other major international issues."

The room exploded, and while for some it was laughter, and jeering, for a great many it was cries of agreement. Some simply because of a personal lust for power, others because of threats and intimidation, and, a very small proportion because they were in league with the instigator, and his master. The few senators who had a view of the Triumvir's faces would note their faces had taken on the grey hue of ash. Only a few would ever know why.

Edited September 10, 2009 by Silhouette

[Subtleknifewielder]

Williams, Gaunter, and Archer were all seated together when the photo was delivered. The package was obviously opened before being brought to them, but the security officers did not appreciate the significance of the photograph. Williams and Gaunter, however, were speechless. Archer still did not know the true identity of the Subtleknifewielder, so their reaction was as mysterious to him as it was to the guard.

"Care to tell me what is going on?" he ventured, not expecting much in response.

He wasn't disappointed. Williams stood and marched out of the room, only to return a few minutes later, the photograph gone from his hand.

"We have a serious problem..."

*Coded message to Administrator Anderson*

Harlem identity compromised, respond through secure channels only. Attempt at extorsion expected, please advise.

*Message ends*

***Classified--Message scrambled***

"Can you confirm that solid evidence exists? Have any demands been made?"

OOC: Sorry for taking a while to post...

[Silhouette]

***Classified--Message scrambled***

"Can you confirm that solid evidence exists? Have any demands been made?"

OOC: Sorry for taking a while to post...

OOC: No problem

IC: *Classified and coded*

Photographic evidence exists, no demands as yet.

OOC: Consider this sent before the closed session.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: No problem

IC: *Classified and coded*

Photographic evidence exists, no demands as yet.

OOC: Consider this sent before the closed session.

OOC: OK, got it.

IC:

***Classified--message scrambled***

Then there is nothing that can be done on your end at the present time. We will prepare for any possible backlash here in case whoever is behind this tries to take it to the public.

[Silhouette]

The vote was swift, and a massive 75% majority of the senate had voted no confidence. During a short recess, a senatorial aide approached them with a sealed envelope. Gaunter sliced it open with his finger, and read the short message himself before showing his comrades. The message was simple, and crystal clear. If they wanted Harlem's identity to remain secret, they would resign rather than try to fight the vote. The message was quickly copied, then forwarded to Anderson in Promised Land. Archer, Gaunter and Williams left Sydney on the next train, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs. An aide would be delivering their decision by proxy. By that time, they would already be deep within Promised Land, planning their next move.

[Subtleknifewielder]

The vote was swift, and a massive 75% majority of the senate had voted no confidence. During a short recess, a senatorial aide approached them with a sealed envelope. Gaunter sliced it open with his finger, and read the short message himself before showing his comrades. The message was simple, and crystal clear. If they wanted Harlem's identity to remain secret, they would resign rather than try to fight the vote. The message was quickly copied, then forwarded to Anderson in Promised Land. Archer, Gaunter and Williams left Sydney on the next train, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs. An aide would be delivering their decision by proxy. By that time, they would already be deep within Promised Land, planning their next move.

Anderson read the note, folding his hands as he handed it off to Anthony Harlem.

"This man or woman, whoever they are, must feel pretty confident...either that, or it's a bluff, and they don't know it for certain. Either way, it's an unknown factor. Should we activate the sleeper to find out the truth?"

Harlem pursed his lips in thought. "I never thought we would have to resort to this, but yes."

OOC: I pretty much assume I have sleeper agents in all my allies, just in case.

[Silhouette]

By the close of session the next day, several sweeping changes had been abolished. The Triumvirate had been abolished, and the head of Government would be the President. Talks were already on the table of abandoning Burma, and instead focusing on the Malaysian Peninsula. Senator Bryson had been voted in through a strong majority as President, and, possibly the most controversial move of all. The world protectorate zone currently occupied by Colonel Pritchard and his men would be fully incorporated into the nation, which would be renamed the Republic of New South Wales. The Silhouette, meanwhile, was pulling all the strings, and only a handful of people would ever know.

The former Triumvirs watched in horror on the senate news feed as the nation they all knew and loved was torn asunder. They had already contacted Colonel Raglan, and he woudl be joining them sortly, along with a section of his finest men. Thankfully, they still had a few loyal contacts through whom they could gather sensitive information, though none of them knew how long their task might take.

[Subtleknifewielder]

In addition to the sleeper in the current governmental structure, another individual was contacted. One with the near unique ability to completely imitate any person he chose, given just a little time to study them.

While not actually under obligation to help, he would not wish to see this continent descend into chaos.

OOC: I'm not sure where you want this to end, so I'm not overtly interfering right now.

Edited September 12, 2009 by Subtleknifewielder