(Joint post with Jesse)
20th August 2019
VWP HQ, Phoenix House, Ohmnervel, Vothetria
Phoenix House was such a prized location for party headquarters. There were plenty of offices on the three-storey building which symmetrically wrapped around a diamond arrangement of three open-plan rooms. Long and large corridors saw the plaques of the room they belonged to. Today was the day Sarohart set things straight. She had to address the fact that the country was on the brink of a civil war.
She had announced an emergency meeting of great importance and extended an invitation to some major and minor political faces; from Kothalria, President Gweneth Moor had taken a flight over with the Defence Minister Jannice Nirvaka and the Finance Minister Winifred Mardesch. From Baykalia, High Chancellor Lady Posol- who believed her story and shared healthy political relationships despite half the continent dispising and ridiculing the Baykalian ‘regime’, brought along her High Council Members. The last time Sarohart checked there were three, but Posol had offered a generous promotion to someone so now the tally ticked four. With Sarohart was her Finance Minister Immima Magolen; her young talent Gloria Tassenburg, who is concurrently Stabschef of the Blitzkraft and Chief of Propaganda for the Vöhmian Arbeiterpartei; Minister of the Home Department Ursula Mayr- one of Saroharts’ most loyal members of the cabinet and Kiara Lunenburg who was Foreign Minister and one of the founders of the VWP. In total, thirteen people attended.
Sarohart knew that it was possible that an attack could happen today, so she acted tighter on security. She had two armed guards at each checkpoint within the building: two at the door leading to their meeting and six at the front gates of the property. Additionally, more were on standby if need be.
Headed the security were two women- Nina Noveskhazi as Officer-on-duty; hand-picked by Tassenburg and Delores Mankuvich who was deputy. The guards outside were under Mankuvich and were equipped with semi-automatic Tavor x95 assault rifles. Those inside were equipped with double action Jericho 941 pistols.
The first ones to arrive was Gweneth Moor, as she always liked to be earlier than anyone else, a quirk of her professional mannerisms. Moor, with Nirvaka and Mardesch stopped at security on the outer gate. They were identified and let through. Moor side-glanced one of the women, a redhead with a fierce scowl.
Saroharts’ reputation sure does precede her she thought.
From her signature maroon-colored motorcade, out stepped Lady Posol, face covered, and her eldest daughter Yolana, clinging close to her mother as they made their way up the steps of the Phoenix House. Followed closely behind the two Posol’s were the High Chancellor’s lackeys posing as her High Council. A mysterious new fourth addition to the Council, wearing a full-face masquerade mask, lagged behind the original three. Lady Posol stopped, and gestured for the fourth member to join up by her side, and continued entering the building.
The room where they were to all meet was a beautiful and large open plan lounge with red leather-stretched sofas. There was some individual armchairs of the same leather too. There was a fireplace, recently stoked, decorated with gold and white marble decor. The wallpapers were a rich mahogany background with small gold and silver stars dotted here and there. At certain parts of the wall were deer hides accompanied by small furniture for decor and a nicely sized library. A coffee table separated two stretched sofas, each comfortably housing 8 people. At one end of the coffee table sat Sarohart in a pulled up armchair. Magolen, Tassenburg, Mayr and Lunenburg were all sat around. Somewhat suddenly, the door was opened by a guard preceded by a knock, with the visitors entering.
“Ah, hello Ms. Moor. Hello Ms. Nirvaka and Ms. Mardesch. Please have a seat, there’s tea and coffee if you want some.”
“Ah, no thanks.” Moor smiled. They all took their seats. There was a little bit of background talk between any and all members present, but before anything was really said, the door knocked and was opened again. In came Lady Posol and her band of four.
“Ah!” Sarohart stood. She walked over to Posol and gave her a cheek-kiss. “Please sit, you want drinks?” Sarohart was immediately more accommodative to Posol than to Moor.
“Ah, yes darling, the usual!” she made a slight gesture towards a few chairs, directing her entourage to sit down. She whispered something in her daughter’s ear, and Yolana returned back through the entrance to the motorcade, the doors closing behind her. Lady Posol sat down and crossed her legs in the chair nearest to Sarohart after her giving instructions to her daughter. In the background, both Magolen and Tassenburg were making their guests feel acquainted, making the right drinks for everyone.
With a relieved sigh to finally be at her destination, Mrs. Posol looked over to Sarohart, and began, “So Clauzia, how’s Braun? I’ve come to understand he had become ill from the Wachovian Flu? It’s a rather nasty disease from what I hear.”
“Braun? Not that I really see him. He’s fine from the last I heard.”
“Oh darling you really must connect more with your family!”
“Maybe one day; he really pissed me off when we were younger. But anywho…” she reached over to the coffee table where Magolen had poured her coffee.
A knock at the door. Through the door’s opening, Yolana had returned with a middle-sized cylinder container in her hand. Walking towards the Vothetrian leader, she nervously remarked, “Ms. Sarohart? Pardon my interruption, but my mother wishes to show you this. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but she informed me that it had been in the works for a while now.”
Standing to Sarohart’s side, Yolana gingerly offered the container. Sarohart looked at Posol weirdly, getting no emotion from her face as it was covered with a mask. She took out a roll of paper that was fastened with bands. They pinged off with a bit of tension and the whole thing unravelled. Sarohart inspected it and chuckled.
“If only.” she laughed and handed it back to Yolana. Magolen was on the other side of the room but twigged that their conversation was way more interesting than the one about cheese crackers with Ms. Nirvaka.
“You mean when, darling!”
“With all due respect Lady Posol, my country is on the brink of civil war, I’d never be able to achieve this with the likes of Hanna Boeler and Jina Xurzese spitting down my neck.”
Moor looked over to Sarohart, she too taking interest. Most other conversations ceased as they listened in.
“I beg to differ, dear. The uncertainty, the scales so very delicately balanced! You are in a position that you fail to see, so I had it drawn up for you!”
[spoiler]https://i.imgur.com/5abX3cw.png
[/spoiler]
“You have allies in the shadows, Clauzia; all your focus has been in the limelight for so long that you fail to see those in the background.”
Moor stood up and passed a letter to Magolen and ushered her to pass it on. It had an unbroken wax seal with the coat of arms of Kothalria.
“What’s this?” She quietly murmured, grabbing her reading glasses and putting them on.
Moor looked over at Sarohart. “I had intended to bring this up to you later, Clauzia, but I felt it couldn’t wait.” After a brief pause, she continued,” Our nation was broken up; it was a tragedy in many Ethalrian’s eyes, including mine. I believe, despite the current tensions, we should seek to bring our once proud and glorious nation back from the ashes instead of letting it slowly die, pitifully lying broken and weak.”
Magolen sat up. “It’s their strategy. Divide us and they’ll always domineer. They split Harimann’s mind, and that’s what left Ethalria in a thousand pieces.”
The fourth masked figure adjusted themselves at the mention of Harimann, as if uncomfortable about the name being said. Posol shot her a look that no one else saw.
Sarohart sat back and after reading the extent of the letter, looked around and up at everyone.
“Moor, I wasn’t expecting this.” she laughed. “I’m sure this is in everyones’ benefit. We will talk about this in the days to come.”
Interested, a quiet Tassenburg made her first call.
“What is that, Clauz?”
“This?” she waved the folded letter around, smiling. “The future.” she passed it over for her to read.
[hr]
Hanna Boeler and two other women stood over multiple bodies. She coiled her revolvers’ magazine and started putting in bullets to fill the gaps, when she was done she radio-called Leuredofer.
“The guardhouse is clear. Meet Mankuvich at the front gate.”
[hr]
Marza Leuredofer pulled up as the passenger of a two-vehicle convoy of military jeeps that were full of Feuertrupp (fire squad), the combined forces of Leuredofer-loyalists and Sozialistische Kämpfers (socialist fighters). She clambered out and nodded to Mankuvich. With no words spoken and in total unison, Mankuvich, Leuredofer and a squad of nearly twenty women walked towards Phoenix House, the only thing standing in the way of their Glorious Victory being eight guards armed with pistols.
Leuredofer pressed open the large front door, and side-swiped her head to tell everyone to go first. They stormed the building fast, taking out their first guard at the front door.
From the window of the second floor, Nina Noveskhazi noticed something out of the ordinary. She spotted the jeeps pulling up and a combined force of Leuredofer the traitor and Mankuvich her supposed loyal deputy fully armed, walking towards the house. She called for backup but an unfamiliar voice snarled down the other end of the radio. Knowing it wasn’t one of hers, she fretted and sprinted down the corridor towards the interior guards.
[hr]
One after another, the guards were picked off without even realising it. This level of stealth was nearly unparalleled considering there were over twenty women. Leuredofer and Mankuvich entered the grand staircase. In front of them were two guard posts and a large door. The guards tensed and raised their pistols, their shots ineffective and their deaths imminent. It did do one thing though.
[hr]
Multiple gunshots from machine guns were heard from the other side of the door. It was kicked open and a fluttering Nina Noveskhazi with a bullet wound in her arm came crashing in. She had grasped a briefcase of pistols that were in reserve from her office on the second floor. Everyone just stared at her in confusion, but Magolen and Tassenburg were already reaching for the sidearms. There were six Jericho 941 in total, and they were all snatched up. Sarohart slowly unbuckled her own Kafvoer Luger from a concealed compartment of her thin black-leathered trench coat.
A ear-biting and aw-silencing eruption came from the other end of the room, sending Winifred Mardesch’s corpse flying. Everyone fell to the ground, an explosion sent thousands of wooden pieces of what was the door flying in every possible direction, piercing skin and scratching the wallpaper from the walls. A musty and aerie sensation lurked through the entire room. Magolen and the fourth mask were the first ones to rise, the latter adjusting their mask that had almost come off.
In twos, the fire squad stormed the room, executing Jorkovol Wolinski and Jannice Nirvaka almost immediately, their rising bodies slumping back to the deck. Sarohart was near shell-shocked, and she stumbled around to regain her senses, nearly falling backwards in the process. People began to jump behind the two leather sofas and the coffee table as immediate cover, but Sarohart was still out in the open. She shot and killed the first two guards but they were replaced by two more. They shot and hit Saroharts’ shoulder and she fell to the floor. Ursula Mayr screamed and ran over to her leader; completely unconscious, and moved her to a nifty hiding spot off to the other side of the room. She picked up her Kafvoer Luger and began shooting.
In an instant, three more fire squad were shot dead. But Yorov Worovich and Tivia Firivia were also unfortunate. It was a massacre. Blood spilt everywhere, Tivia’s body slammed onto the marble slate of the fireplace as it knocked over a vase of flowers everywhere, shattering glass and water spread across some areas of the floor.
The odds were now even, but every fire squad had moved inside and sought better cover. Magolen scowled at the sight of Marza Leuredofer. Ursula exposed some of their cover in a bold attempt to be the hero, shot and killed two more but was shot in the head by Delores Mankuvich. Kiara Lunenburg screamed, her long-time friend was dead. She moved over with her gun in a rage and shot two more before receiving a life-sentence spray of a whole magazine in her torso. On her way down she shot Mankuvich, wounding her.
Leuredofer signalled for an advance, and so two women moved up and exposed two people from the first sofa. Shocked, Moor put up her hands in a plea for mercy but was shot, her assailant and the other guard instantly getting killed themselves. At this point, blood was everywhere. It was near a stalemate. The gunfighting stopped and Sarohart regained her consciousness, realising that Ursula, Kiara, Moor and several others were dead. Magolen picked off another guard that was unfortunate. Sarohart was nearly crippled in one arm, it was there but so weak she couldn’t stand. She crawled over to her Luger. The fourth mask saw what danger they were in and pounced with their gun from their hiding place. Clearly a fucking genius, the fourth mask shot and killed three fire squad from their clear vantage point. The fourth mask covered Sarohart from a short distance whilst the others were still under fire. Magolen and Posol shot dead some more of the enemy. This left three including Leuredofer.
Magolen had Leuredofer in a clear line and fired, but her magazine was empty. She cursed. Yolana’s foot was injured and she could not move. Lady Posol and Noveskhazi were pinned down.
Marza Leuredofer saw Sarohart on the floor. She snarled, drool sliding down her jaw. She licked her lips, aimed, and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times.
Sarohart saw Marza snarling. She saw the gun raised. She braced for death, tightly closing her eyes and biting her lip. But when three shots came, none hit her. She opened up her eyes and the fourth mask had flung themselves across the room in front of Sarohart and absorbed all three bullets. Insanely, they still mustered strength to aim whilst taking their last breath. Leuredofers’ snarl became a sickening realisation. Bang; Leuredofer fell dead.
The last two-standing fire squad were shot dead, followed by deafening silence. All that was left was the broken mess of a Phoenix House Gunfight. Bodies laid sprawled across everywhere, bodies of women that were mothers, women that were sisters and women that were daughters. Magolen slumped down. The others took a moment to breathe properly once again. Noveskhazi had a score to settle. She walked over to where Kiara Lunenburg had fell and saw Delores Mankuvich slowly crawling to the exit. She had already been shot in the thigh. Noveskhazi kicked her in the side of the head. She wrenched her hair back which opened up her mouth and sunk her nozzle down her largely gaping throat. In a massive flurry of anger she screamed and pulled the trigger- her trusted friend of many years was dead.
Sarohart was still slumped on the floor but with some help from Tassenburg she came onto her knees. She looked around at the massacre with massively mixed emotions. Comrades dead, and yet, her enemy also. She stumbled over to a small table at the back where still remained a bottle of Ethalrian Whiskey. She popped the cap, slumped down and swigged several mouthfuls down.
There was a solemn silence for a long while. Most people were just laid there with heavy breaths. Sarohart recouped herself and sat down next to the body of her saviour. She still had no idea who they were, but without them she would not still be alive. She didn’t want to take the mask off as it was very disrespectful, instead she sat there and stroked the body’s hair slightly. It was a sort of hazelnut brown. Short, like a middle aged woman’s hair. In a moment of weakness, she slid the mask off. At first, it took a moment to realize who it was, but to her absolute shock, she recognized the woman’s features. She crawled backwards away from the body with a million questions swarming in her mind, and wailed as if she had just been shot herself.
Behind the mask was the woman whom she secretly idolized so dearly, the woman who was exiled all that time ago, the woman who Sarohart believed to be dead; and now, the woman who had saved her life.
Her Matriarch. Her Supreme Leader.
Amalda Harimann.
