Steel Beams Can't Melt Cruise Missiles

http://www.amc.af.mil/shared/media/photodb/web/070813-F-2034C-044.JPG
Four RC-17 Petrels (C-17 Globemasters)were flying in line formation, just a thousand feet off the sea with the rear cargo doors open. The Crew Chief looked out the rear door and could see the following planes. Just below the Petrels, the combined First and Second Fleet were there offloading LCACs containing supplies to assist the already landed marines. A few Krues (Chinooks) were busy picking up supply crates from the Cay-Class Landing Ships (Bay Class Landing Ship) and ferrying them across the shores.

Farther away, ships were spewing black smoke and sinking, with a few frigates patrolling between the wrecks. Rhodesian RANZACs (ANZAC Class Frigate) were busy picking up survivors of what was left of the Genoshan navy, if it could be called a navy. The only losses on the Rhodesian side were two of the Adelaide-class frigates (Oliver Perry Class Frigates).

Soon the sea turned into sand and grass, Strykers and other Marines were offloading from the LCACs to support the soon to be coming fight. Designated off-loading areas could be clearly seen for the Kru transport helicopters. A hastily constructed landing strip could be seen with Bulldozers leveling the ground.


The Crew Chief looked behind him and saw the pallets of supplies and ammunition that were prepped for airdrop. He stood to one side of the cargo doors and yelled into the mic, “Prepare for Drop!” With a slamming of a fist against a large button on the side, the parachutes activated, pulling the pallets out with violence.

Several miles away, the initial landing force that came a few hours ago were busy maintaining a defensive line around the soon to be base against any potential counter-attacks. The plan was to prepare for a massive military push throughout the rest of Genosha, and then the capitol. The soldiers were anxious and awaiting, gripping their FALs in anger and hoping the enemy shows up soon. “For Cape Hood,” were the thoughts that persisted in their minds. MGS Strykers were at the ready, their 120mm guns ready and rearing to fire the first shots against the Genoshan Army.


A Photo taken by a Marine from a UH-1Y Bane (Huey)

The skies were dark, the clouds blocking the moonlight. The jungle as it can be misnamed was dead silent, a signal something was up. No birds dared chirp, no bugs making the ritual songs, no crunching of leaves, grass, or sighs of branches when fauna moved through. The trees were still. The flora was sparse in some areas, more so in others. A mixture of tightly grouped trees were random while the surrounding areas were high grass.

The Marines were maintaining a defensive line as the preparations for the push towards the Genoshan capitol continued. The Army has recently arrived to maintain a strong grip on the Nearly completed base. Harriers now sat on the sides of the flattened runway, reinforced with marston matting to provide better weight distribution. Nearby were helipads, AH-1Z Wildcats were on standby for supporting fire. Wings loaded with rockets and missiles.

Meanwhile at the defensive line, Rourk was manning the squad’s MG3 chambered in 243 Winchesthair. He laid on the end of a gully, while his squadmates were a little further back and down, trying to help plan with the commander of a nearby MGS Stryker. Rourk was only 19 years old, and he signed up last year. Having passed the PT and then excelling the written test of competence, it was a wonder how he wasn’t in charge of his own squad.

But the quiet night soon broke as engines could be heard. Rourk yelled out, “Get Ready!” to his squadmates. His leader stood nearby with Night Vision Goggles. The commander of the Mobile Gun System scrambled up out of the gully and into the vehicle. Nearby other Strykers turned on their engines and withdrew into the dense shrubbery behind the line.

Within a few minutes, groups of men were marching, oblivious to the Marines who were camped. “OPEN FIRE!” was the command given by the squad leader. A deafening roar of guns firing could be heard. FALs were spitting out 243 Winchesthair casings, barrels erupting fire. MG3s were spewing a constant line of Jacketed Hollow Points, with some tracers mixed in at a showstopping rate of 1,300 rounds per minute. Other squads fired in bursts instead.

Genoshan soldiers, being poorly undertrained were confused and scattered like rats. Behind them a T-64 tank burst through the trees, aiming it’s gun at one of the machine gunner’s position. Just as the tank barrel finished traversing, a loud resounding boom could be heard. A 120mm Tungsten Carbide Sabot went through the frontal hull, pulverizing the driver into nothing more than human soup just from the shear velocity. The Tungsten projectile traveling at over five thousand feet per second then hit the ammo stowage racks, and passed through the engine block, then out the back of the tank and into the trees. The T-64’s hatches blew open as the ammunition set afire and a jet of pure fire rushed out, reaching heights of a multi-story building.

But the Genoshans reacted quickly, the rest of the responding forces still in the forest spread out and returned fire. The classic sound of the Avatomat Kalashnikov erupted from the trees. The MGS Strykers were firing Hive rounds at the foliage, hundreds of golf ball size tungsten came flying out of the barrel like a shotgun, penetrating the shrubbery and eviscerating the soldiers.

A nearby hill behind the line of soldiers was host to a handful of snipers, each carefully looking for Genoshan commanders or leaders. The Officer overseeing his section of the defensive line was there overlooking the battle. He called into a radio in his hand, “Base Alpha, Base Alpha, this is Crimson King, requesting immediate Air Support!”

A calm and deep tone came over, “Crimson King, this is Base Alpha. Sending Air Support.”

The commander atop the hill then changed frequencies, “Rum Bastards, Sung’s Fury, this is Crimson King, requesting immediate flank!”

“Crimson King, this is Rum Bastards, moving out!”

“Crimson King, this is Sung’s Fury, copy that.”

((Listen to this song if you wanna listen to the Hell’s Crusader’s theme song. :wink: Sabaton - The Art of War (Lyrics English & Deutsch) - YouTube))

Soon the sounds of Hell’s Crusaders, the air squadron of AH-1Z Wildcats, could be heard, with a custom fitted UH-1Y. The UH-1Y was rigged with massive speakers hanging out from the side doors, cranking out the Hell’s Crusader’s iconic song. The attack choppers maintained strafing runs, staying mobile as to reduce the chances of being hit by small arms fire. The nose guns belched 20mm rounds into the below enemies, rockets firing and missiles let loose to strike multiple targets. Tanks, Soldiers, trucks, no one was safe from the hellstorm.

Inside one of the helicopters, the gunner sat there, firing at targets revealed on screen. He kept saying, “Get Sum! Get Sum!” until a audible “Oh SH–” as a Strela Ground to Air missile went out from the woods and struck the attack chopper. The pilot struggled to maintain control after the missile struck the tail. Not being able to maintain high speeds to counter auto-rotation led to a crash landing onto an open stretch of ground. He couldn’t stay conscience and blacked out.

It was Late in the day after last night’s battle. The ground was scorched in some areas, visible signs of trees being cut down from the hail of bullets traveling through the night. Several T-64 wrecks were strewn out, with a mix of craters here and there. Vultures came circling above, trying to pick at the carcasses. Piles of bodies belonging to the Genoshans were seen, guarded by Army soldiers to prevent looting.

Nearby two soldiers were dragging one of theirs. The cheetah being dragged was struggling, trying to avoid the punishment of looting personal things from the dead. He was strapped to the front of a Stryker by leather braces, his back facing outwards. Fifteen feet away stood a Master Sergeant, holding a bullwhip. A crowd of Marines left behind, Army, and Genoshan soldiers who surrendered, including some of the wounded who wanted to see how the Rhodesian military holds themselves to higher standards.

The Master Sergeant yelled aloud, “Private First Class Herman Gurd! By the Code of Military Conduct, you have been convicted of looting! One of the most despicable acts during war! As sentenced by the Court, you are hereby punished by Flagellation! Twenty lashes!” The man unleashed his 15 foot long bullwhip, made from the leather of cows. With a flick he straightened the whip as it trailed behind him. Master Sergeants underwent the ritual of flagellation when they earn the rank. Each and every one of them had their issued bullwhip, and it was prided upon if the Master Sergeant produced perfectly straight lashes across the backs of the convicted. The arm went up like a baseball pitcher and with a flick of the wrist, the whip went flying. It extended all the way, the cracker coming around and creating the sound wave breaking crack.

CRACK!

The strike drew blood, seeing a perfectly straight line as the cracker broke the skin. The convicted screamed out in pain. The Sergeant yelled out the total number of lashes as the crowd of captive Genoshans were silent, but pleasantly surprised that no one got away with it. A few of the soldiers were cheering as in their minds, one scumbag was being doled the appropriate punishment.

Rourk stood with his MG-3 hanging over his shoulder, looking at the crashed Chopper. He remembered his sprint towards the downed helicopter in the middle of the battle. Bullets whizzed past him as each step he took sent him closer to danger. The canopy was opened by him, then dragging the gunner of the AH-1Z out. The memory of fireman carrying the gunner across an open stretch and dropping him off in the gully was vivid like it was a minute ago. His squad leader saw him carry the gunner to safety, then went back for the pilot.

It was as his squad leader said after seeing Rourk coming back with the pilot, “An act of the highest bravery.”

Dirt was strewn across his face. A boonie hat rested atop his head, while he still wore his body armor. His BDU underneath had the sleeves rolled up. He kept thinking about how lucky he was that night, while looking to his right. He saw the dead Rhodesians that were gathered and in body bags.

A truck rolled past, carrying the weapons used by the Genoshans. Soon to be cleaned, and sent back to Rhodesia for sale to private citizens wanting to own a piece of history…

[hr]

Meanwhile at Base Alpha…

“So as you can see here, this is the amount of ground that we have managed to take,” said ‘Mad Dog’ Lex, General of the Marines. Around the table stood a few high ranking officers of the Navy, Army, and Marines. They were in a tent and the heat was high, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. The air was surprisingly dry in comparison to their homeland. The sounds of Harriers taking off could be heard in the distance, while Chinooks spooled their rotors to further supply the mechanized troops halfway across Genosha.


(sorry if it’s a bit too small. The occupied areas are the line covered section. The Red Dot in Genosha is the initial amphibious invasion.)

Lex continued while pointing to Hammer Bay, the capitol of Genosha, “What the problem is, that it’s been too easy taking all this ground. Air recon confirms that the Genoshan military is in full withdrawal to their capitol. We already have crippled their navy. Any ships that weren’t destroyed in the initial blitz are either captured by us, or are still floating around in the Bay. I have gotten off the horn with the Grand Admiral. He said that the first and second fleets are being moved to wipe out the remaining water-borne threats, and provide bombardment at Hammer Bay. While the Navy weakens the defenses around the city, we can move in. However, I stress the importance of getting there ASAP. The sooner, the less resistance. We want to catch them with their tails between their legs, not in a corner. Any questions?”

“Sir?” asked one of the Navy officers.

“Shoot.”

“What about the planes we found at their Air Base?”

“The ones on the island?”

“Yes.”

“It’s of no concern. I have talked to the Marshal of the Air Force about them. He says he is allocating a few Petrels and crewmen to examine and break down the airplanes for transport. The Department of Defense has vested interest in examining them, especially the defense companies. Now if there isn’t any more questions, you are all dismissed.”

Liberty City – Blue House
“Rhodesia’s ability to suddenly launch this invasion is certainly surprising, and there is little evidence to suggest the Genoshan government was involved in these attacks,” said Michael Delgado, the FPIA liaison with the Blue House, “we cannot prove this is a false flag operation or anything, but it’s definitely suspicious.”

President Christopher Arctoris sighed. The Federated Alliance had a relatively close relationship with Rhodesia, a relationship dating back to Rhodesia providing the Federated Alliance with the schematics for its base infantry battle rifle. But this invasion…well, it just reeked. It was suspicious, it was unsupported, and it seemed frankly unnecessary. “We’re going to have to condemn this, its an annexation,” Arctoris said after a moment, “but we can’t get wrapped up in some conflict halfway around the world that has nothing to do with us.”

The Blue House Chief of Staff, Julia Brenner, spoke up. “Let’s issue a public denunciation, but leak that we’re not interested in getting involved,” she said, “we should have our ambassador to Rhodesia make it clear to them that we’re very unhappy, but make it equally clear that we’re not getting involved.” Brenner looked over to the diplomatic liaison. “And let’s make sure we get whatever few Free Pacificans we have in country out.”

“We’ve already got our counsel there – a volunteer, of course – leading the few Free Pacifican expatriots out of country,” the diplomatic liaison responded, “but they’re having trouble making it to the border. There’s a mass movement of Genoshans away from the advancing Rhodesians, and their advance is pretty damn fast. With no air or sea traffic moving right now, they’re stuck on a road, and last we heard, it was heavy traffic. But we’re hopeful they’ll make it.”

“Okay,” Arctoris said. “Let’s denounce the invasion, but make sure the Rhodesians know we’re staying out of it. Let’s make sure our people get out of there. And let’s stay out of it otherwise. But I want more intelligence resources put on figuring out what’s really happening over there. And let’s make sure the Lyonese are on the same page, too.” Seeing a nod from Delgado, Arctoris continued. “What’s next?”


Genosha – G1 Highway
Louis Plunge winced as he bit his nail slightly too high, nearly drawing blood. The businessman held his finger for a moment in his other hand, waiting for the pain to recede, and telling himself to stop biting his nails. But within a minute, he was doing it again. Finally, after hurting himself again, he picked up his satellite phone, and again checked the GPS function on it. It had been twenty minutes since he checked it last, and in that time, the bus had moved the entirety of a half mile.

Plunge tried not to show his frustration, but he knew he looked like a nervous mess. And indeed, he was one. The Free Pacifican citizen had moved to Genosha a eight years ago in order to run web hosting company specializing in hosting pirated content. He had a bachelor’s degree in computer science, and though he was a people person, he was not great under pressure. And today, he was under a lot of pressure.

Plunge had become the FPS’ volunteer consul in Genosha three years ago, taking over the job after an expatriate friend moved back to the FPS. He’d become Lyon’s consul a year later. Neither was a particularly difficult position – he spent a few hours a week helping Free Pacificans and Lyonese in Genosha with miscellaneous problems. Usually, it was just connecting people with lawyers or other specialists, though he had once had to facilitate the repatriation of a Lyonese body, and had on several occasions had to help Free Pacificans that had been arrested. But nothing had prepared him for the past 24 hours – not even the brief training he’d had back in Liberty City three years ago.

Plunge’s job in case of a major crisis was to try to round up the couple dozen Free Pacifican (and 2-3 Lyonese) expatriates in the country, then get them out of the country. The Diplomatic Department had given Plunge $10,000 in cash, a credit card with an unlimited cap, a satellite phone, and some other limited goods in order to do that. But all of Plunge’s training had focused on getting people out within a few days – not overnight. And particularly not overnight when all air and sea traffic had been suspended.

The volunteer consul had worked quickly once the invasion had started – reaching out to the few Free Pacificans in country (he knew them all personally), telling them to quickly pack a bag, and telling them to meet him in at 8AM sharp to leave. He’d used the cash to rent a bus and hire a driver, and then, after some dawdling, had gotten that bus on the road at 11AM. But by that point, traffic was congested. Most of the population of Hammer Bay was seeking to flee in advance of the Rhodesian invasion, and Plunge’s bus was caught right smack in the middle of that traffic jam.

It was 120 kilometers to the border from downtown Hammer Bay. They’d made it about a third of that distance in the last twelve hours. Plunge just hoped – desperately – that they’d make it the rest of the way.


Liberty City – Rhodesian Embassy
There were few areas of Liberty City as prestigious as the embassy district, the longtime home of the various missions in the Federated Alliance. The numerous varying-sized embassies in the district – all of which were sizable, as small embassies were nowadays located in the International Building – sat alongside large, four-lane avenues with large sidewalks. Trees sprouted out of those sidewalks, along with benches.

The road outside the Rhodesian embassy this evening was filled not with the normal evening traffic of the city, but instead with a dozen parked police vehicles. A line of police officers – wearing raincoats over their regular uniforms – stood not far from those vehicles, facing several dozen protesters chanting slogans against the Rhodesian invasion. Several blocks away, a riot squad waited on standby, just in case of violence. But given the pacifist nature of the protest – and the ongoing rain – the Liberty City Police largely expected its only impact to be the shutting down of traffic outside the embassy.

Well, that, and annoying those few employees still working inside. “Hey hey, ho ho, Rhodesian troops have got to go. Hey hey, ho ho, Rhodesian troops have to go…” The chants would go on through the night, and again on Saturday, when an even larger protest was planned.

Heleck was up late in the middle of the night, trying to be up to speed about what happened. She sat in a chair as stacks of papers, CDs, and photographs were strewn across the small meeting room. Marion then asked her Vice President, “Have you given a public release on the evidence gathered?”

“That’s the thing,” replied Val, “We cannot without releasing some rather controversial information that will reveal our capabilities.”

“Goddammit Saar’bac,” she muttered. After a few minutes thinking with a knuckle against her temple, she continued, “The Free Pacific States are not happy, our embassy is a pacifist attraction now. They have also expressed displeasure and denounced our invasion.”

“Obviously they would, considering how much out of the loop they are on the evidence here,” he said with outstretched arms pointing to the boxes of papers and CDs.

“And that’s why I am sending you over there, I cannot give a run-down on everything that transpired. You are doing that,” she remarked. Marion picked up a phone on the table nearby while still sitting. After several minutes while Saar’bac paced the room, she hung up.

“So?” asked Val in a slightly annoyed tone.

“I just got off the phone with our Embassy in the Free Pacific States. You are heading on a plane over there, with all this crap, and you will brief President Terrus with all of this. And I don’t want you leaving out a single detail, that includes the classified details” President Heleck said, pointing to all the boxes. She stood up, and left the room. Leaving the Vice President visibly annoyed with furrowed eyebrows this time.

He thought to himself, “God, politics…”

“We have formally drafted a statement regarding the attacks in Genosha, Kivio Iliskalu,” an executive officer announced, holding the document. “We’ve spent a little time doing research on the situation. We concluded that Vekaiyu should probably condemn this altercation.”

Vanse Iliskalu shook his head. While it was true that he, being the Minister of the Interior made him essentially second in command, he was aware of how a similar situation involving Lso Yiskevi resulted in a rather delicate public relations campaign waged by the Vekaiyun Union itself. He was not about to face the Premier in the same light Yiskevi would eventually find himself in. “Hold it. We won’t be releasing a statement just yet. Why would we need to - our roaming fleets are far from the conflict, and we’re not quite in league with any of the involved parties. Instead, let’s see how this carries out. It will be useful to monitor as the attacks provide less justification than our issues with Elphana.”

Rhodesian Embassy - Volkgoroda, Laiatanese Federation

Traffic was largely nonexistent during this time of the night, and the snow only made drivers scarcer. The few cars that were to travel up through the Diplomatic Quarter would be surprised to find multiple officers from the Volkgoroda Metropolitan Police Department directing them around a large group of people standing in the street. Signs were held up by many of those involved, writing scribbled in Mahigian or Codexian. The crudeness of the signs revealed this protest happened rather spontaneously.

Various chants broke through the silence of the night, calling for the Rhodesians to “Go home! Go home! Go home! Go…” and calling their country a “…rogue state! Rhodesia’s gone rogue! Rhodesia is a rogue state! Rhodesia’s gone…” The chants echoed throughout the large crowd gathered in front of the Rhodesian embassy in both Mahigian and broken Codexian, illuminated by the street lights and flashing blue and red lights of the police cars cordoning off the area. The protesters and police alike were bundled up, trying to stay warm in the falling snow. Anti-riot measures were not implemented, though the police remained on alert.

Two police officers were huddled together near their police car, lighting cigarettes as they discussed the most recent hockey match between the Volkgoroda Capitals and the Belila Federals. They seemed to be rather into the conversation, until the sound of running feet turned them around. The two spun around just in time to see three masked youths launch bricks at the Rhodesian embassy. Two of the bricks landed harmlessly against the side of the building, cracking apart while the third smashed through one of the front windows.

“Hey! Halt!” One of the policemen shouted after the three youths, blowing his whistle and gaining the attention of two other officers from the back of the crowd. The two officers chased after the youths as the two from the back of the crowd managed to get in position and grabbed two of the three youths. The third dodged a hand from the initial pursuing officers, but he slid on the ice and collided with a light post. He scrambled to get up, but he was apprehended quickly. The crowd’s emotions seemingly rose as the three youths launched their attack on the embassy - starting to push against the police at the front of the embassy, attempting to get as close as possible.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs - Volkgoroda, Laiatanese Federation

Only a few blocks away from the protest sat the Nikita Kamensikh building, named for the first “Foreign Minister” of the Laiatanese Empire. Inside, diplomatic staff and the current minister of foreign affairs were hard at work. The Minister of Foreign Affairs was on the telephone.

“What do we know?” The voice on the other end of the telephone asked as Yaroslav Obraztsov flipped through some paperwork.

“Just what I’ve already faxed over to you, Herr President. Supposedly Genosha launched a bunch of cruise missiles at Rhodesia, Rhodesia’s pissed - gone in guns blazing.”

A low groan came in from President Kreskov, and the shuffling around of some papers could be heard. “Okay. We’ve got no assets out there, right? We can’t act against the invasion - and let’s be honest, I don’t feel like wasting Laiatanese lives for some little country off in another hemisphere. And I know for sure the public doesn’t want that. We’re not getting involved militarily, that’s for sure. But we still need to condemn this. It just seems too fishy.”

“Fishier than a Priluk fish market, that’s for sure. Okay, we’ll together a statement and communique for the public and Rhodesia. We’ve already issued travel warnings for both Genosha and Rhodesia. What about sanctions?”

“Keep them on the table. Threaten economic and diplomatic sanctions. If I recall correctly, they already have some sanctions against them. Maybe we’ll start a new wave of sanctions against them, who knows. But I’m not putting Laiatanese lives on the line for this. Got all that?”

Yaroslav scribbled down notes on a notepad, nodding as he answered. “Yes sir, I do.”

“Alright Yaroslav, have a good night. Try to get some sleep, hm?”

He chuckled. “I’ll try to, you do the same. When’re you back, we’re missing you over here at the Ministry.”

“A couple days or so. I need to get back in country, our ambassador knows what she’s doing. She can handle herself.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

"Of course.


— Begin quote from ____


Nikita Kamensikh Building
1541 Sikorzky Street
Volkgoroda, Laiatanese Federation

To the Government of the Federal Republic of Rhodesia:

This message is to inform you that the Federal Government of the Laiatanese Federation condemns your use of force against the nation of Genosha, and demands you halt all aggression towards the Genoshan military and prepare to remove your military forces from the nation. Diplomatic channels were not exhausted in your dealings with Genosha, and the Federal Government does not feel there is sufficient evidence that Genosha is behind the attack upon your nation. While we have deep sorrow for those affected in the bombings, this is not the time to cause more death and destruction.

Failure to halt your advance will result in diplomatic and economic sanctions upon the Federal Republic and its citizens, including the embargoing of Rhodesian goods and the freezing of Rhodesian assets held in our country. We appeal to your sense of rationality that you stop this senseless violence in Genosha, and stop feeding into the growing world tension.

Regards,

Yaroslav Dmitryovich Obraztsov
Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Laiatanese Federation

— End quote

Corporal Rourk was riding atop a Stryker along with other Marines, a recent promotion from First Class, skipping Lance Corporal for his heroic deeds saving the Attack chopper crew. The Stryker was cruising along on a stretch of road along with three others, doing a patrol on the far edges of the front. Trees and shrubbery whizzed by. The sun high in the air and beating down upon the unlucky few on top. More were in the compartment enjoying the air conditioning.

It was to be a routine patrol until the vehicle commander yelled out loud, “BRACE FOR STOP!”

The marines on top clinged to access points and handles, anything to grab as the Stryker did an emergency stop. The other three strikers did the same and marines started disembarking, expecting an ambush and maintained a semi circle around the convoy. The platoon spread out amongst the trees, shrubbery, and high grass along the road.

Rourk, now in command of his own squad, issued a command to the vehicle commander, “Status!?” He gripped his FAL and maintained a low ready as he awaited the response.

“Bodies, 100 yards, Forward!” shouted the vehicle commander as he popped the hatch, stuck himself out, and made a forward motion with the right arm.

“Copy! Squad Alpha, on me!” shouted Rourk as he started jogging along the side of the road. His squad followed suit, jogging and maintaining a low ready with their firearms. When Rourk reached twenty meters away, he stopped and took a knee. The newly minted squad leader made a forward motion with his arm while saying, “Te’vass, check it.”

Te’vass, a felidae, got up from a kneeling position and carefully crouched jogged his way to the bodies strewn on the side of the road. He checked for any potential hostiles before yelling, “Clear!”

Rourk and the rest of his squad got up and started walking towards the dead bodies, firearms in hands. The squad leader looked at the bodies then at the surrounding area. He spoke again before focusing on the bodies, “Squad, spread out and check the surroundings.”

“Civilians, gunshot wounds to the back. Family of four,” he thought to himself. “Obviously the big male human was the father, the mother was on her back, her lower articles of clothing were ripped off, suggesting that necrophilia was present with how the legs were positioned. The two children were there, daughters, one of which had a gaping hole where the back of the head was, the other was missing an arm. Strands of muscle and bone could be seen hanging from where the arm belonged. Flies were present and buzzing, but the vultures haven’t arrived yet. The way they were running, they were running towards our forces, but we haven’t been here. And the bodies look like it’s been a day.”

“Squad Leader! Casings and Magazines!” shouted a member of the squad who was just down the road. “And Tire Marks!”

Rourke took his attention off the deceased and started jogging to the recently shouting squad member, just 15 yards away. When he got there, 7.62x39mm steel casings could be found, along with magazines that belonged to AK-47s. The AK-47 was such a prolific rifle, it didn’t make sense to accuse the Genoshans. Plus they would not stoop this low.

“F—ing marauders, taking advantage of the less fortunate!” he thought, his blood starting to boil. The knuckles wrapping around the pistol grip of his rifle turned white.

Visibly pissed and swearing revenge upon those that commit such atrocities, he shouted, “Squad! Return to the Strykers!”

After a few minutes Rourke was on the horn with Base Alpha, now renamed Camp Sand. He reported his findings to higher ups. Other platoons stretched across Genosha reported similar things. Anarchy was setting in with the collapsing of the Genoshan government. A platoon to the coastline found fleeing civilians from a nearby village, taken by anarchists. Another found a checkpoint of marauders running a shakedown.[edit_reason]Changed the direction. The previous seemed too favorable to me.[/edit_reason]

Rain continued to pour for the fourth day in a row as Vice President Valintino Saar’bac was led into the Blue House. Water cascaded off the building’s blue dome, drenching the federal agents standing guard on the roof, and creating a seeming river of water down the building’s numerous windows. Staff members used umbrellas to keep Saar’bac mostly dry, and his wet jacket was taken as soon as he stepped inside.

Blue House Chief of Staff Julia Brenner met Saar’bac, and after exchanging niceties, led him to the executive office. President Christopher Arctoris was waiting there to receive Saar’bac, and he immediately offered Rhodesia’s Vice President a smile and a handshake. “Welcome to the Blue House, Mister Vice President,” Actoris said, “it is a pleasure to welcome you.”

The felidae smiled back and returned the handshake with a strong grip. His 5’11" tall and two hundred pound frame squeezed into his fifteen thousand dollar tailored business suit. The pants having to be custom fitted to accompany his rather large thighs and always as ever, wearing his custom leather shoes made from baby seals.

He looked into the eyes of President Christopher Arctoris, sizing up the worth of the person in front of him. Val’s almost black eyes were penetrating as he maintained the handshake for a few seconds before withdrawing and finally speaking, “President Arctoris, thank you for being so kind as to host this meeting. I wish it could be under better circumstances, but the world never allows for that.”

He paused for a second before resuming, “I was hoping to brief you on what has been gathered in the investigation following up. Is there a way to deposit the boxes of said evidence and classified data? They are currently being kept under guard at the Airport, and I highly recommend at the minimum, five trucks or SUVs to carry it all.”

“We can have it picked up immediately,” Arctoris said, motioning to Brenner, who nodded, then made her way out of the room. “I’m very happy you could come as well. The current situation in Genosha is concerning, and I am sorry that my government had to react the way it did. But Rhodesia and FPS have always been close, and I am hopeful that we can ensure this does not harm our relationship.”

Arctoris turned, motioning to the several other individuals in the room. “Allow me to introduce my staff. This is Dr. Akagi Saburo, my national security adviser. This is Vanessa Williams, the Director of Diplomacy and Ambassador-at-Large of the Federated Alliance. And,” Arctoris motioned as Brenner re-entered the room, “I believe you’ve met Julia Brenner, my chief of staff.”

“The intelligence will be picked up shortly,” Brenner said, addressing the president. She turned to Saar’bac. “Our senior intelligence officer will be seeing to the matter personally, and he and his staff will immediately begin reviewing the information provided.”

“But I’m sure you didn’t just come here to drop off some boxes for the FPIA,” Actoris said, referencing the Free Pacifican Intelligence Agency, the preeminent FPS intelligence service, “so let’s get to it while my staff begins looking through these files, shall we?”

Saar’bac nodded to each person who was introduced and listened to Arctoris until the final sentence.

After a few seconds of silence, Val nodded. “Well then, do you have seats?” he laughed in a pleasant manner. He followed up, “Also, shall we start from the beginning with the history lesson, then the investigation? I’d rather you understand the whole story instead of just part of it, fair?”

The president’s office featured a desk to one side of the room, and facing it, several couches and large, comfortable chairs arranged around a coffee table. Arctoris motioned to those seats now, and he and his staff sat down. “Certainly. Whatever you prefer.”

The Vice President unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down on one of the comfortable chairs around the coffee table. The cheetah like figure now in a state of relaxation as he prepared to give a long talk.

“Well then, let us begin,” he said. “Rhodesia and Genosha has always had a sense of animosity between each other. Especially starting since before the Unilateral Declaration of Autonomy, the founding of Rhodesia.”

“During that time in which Rhodesia was a colony in the very early 1800s, colonists have sought to spread to other lands for search of better lives or opportunities. The region that we now recognize as Genosha has been host to colonists, although primarily tribals that were uplifted in one form or another. Everything was generally peaceful until we declared the UDA in 1832. Other nations that the colonies south of us belonged to, did not like that particularly much. Even more so when some the colonists started claim allegiance to Rhodesia. Thus began a bloodshed in which we tried to defend the said colonials, only to be defeated. These battles lasted for quite a while until the 1840s in which we decided that it wasn’t worth it to fight over such holdings of land.”

Val thought to himself, “Maybe, but those lands still belong to us, damned if anyone else says otherwise.”

He continued, “It was a spat of land, which I must be frank with you about. There are those within the Rhodesian government to this day who believe that Genosha and the other colonial holdings at the time rightfully belong to us. Afterwards we remained an isolationist nation until the colonies started gaining their independence, which was around 1910 or so. We became a much more liberal and trade friendly nation, however, the common hatred between Genosha and Rhodesia still existed.”

“We’ve had a few encounters from the 1900s and on, primarily in the form of terrorism attacks. Us trying to play the high road has always been to denounce and help the Genoshans in capturing the terrorists or rebels who claimed to fight for Rhodesia. Unfortunately, the other party refused to reciprocate when the terror attacks happened to us. The documents and intelligence reports confirm our stances and actions. It wasn’t until the 1971 DuVall Rugby Terror Attack did we decide that we had enough of playing nice.”

Val’s throat was parched, and he noticed a cup and pitcher of water. Gesturing to the water, he asked, “You don’t mind?”

“Please, by all means,” Arctoris said, motioning to the pitcher. The President had remained straight-faced through the presentation, and his demeanor did not change now. Brenner and Saburo sat with similar poker faces, while Williams was taking close notes and nodding along.

Val picked up the pitcher with one hand and poured it into a cup. He emptied half of the cup before saying, “Thank you.”

“Now then,” he continued, “the 1971 DuVall Rugby Terror attack. The official report was that the terrorists responsible for the execution of both the rugby teams states that they escaped. The unofficial report, is vastly different. In the files mentioned before are the VHS tapes of their interrogation, confessions, and other statements. It is not for the weak stomached, I will admit.”


“There are also photographs of the terrorists bodies, with a rather unique tattoo present on all of them. A triangular backdrop with a red fist, thumb extended, and three letters that spell out ‘GPB’. The Genoshan Party of Brotherhood. Investigations, which are also included in the files, are linked that tattoo, stretching back to terror attacks even before the 1971 Rugby Attack. I have also mentioned that we have sent telegrams to the Genoshan Regime asking for their help in these efforts to quell such organizations. We never send any diplomatic letters of the sort, we have always kept things to ourselves.”

"After failure once again by the Genoshan government to refuse to help, we had enough. The Genoshan Bush Wars started that same year in 1971. It was a clandestine war that was tasked to the Marine Force Recon units. The goal was to find the members of the Genoshan Party of Brotherhood and put an end to it. "

He paused for a minute, looking at the accompanying staff then resuming, “One thing your intelligence agency might have missed is that I have fought in the Bush Wars as a former Force Recon. We have photographs confirming the hits done on the GPB members, more VHS tapes on high ranking individuals inside the GPB and Genoshan government. Interrogations and statements that confirmed the GPB’s involvement in the attacks, and future events. Thanks to this measure, we have severely cut the number of bombings down, along with murders of political and military members in Rhodesia.”

“I was in from 1989 to 1992, three years of a 21 year clandestine war that even the public in my nation never heard of, save for those few rumors that float around. The Bush Wars ended when the Genoshan Party of Brotherhood decided they had enough of waking up in the middle of the night and finding burly men surrounding their bed,” he said while chuckling at the end.

After a few seconds the chuckling subsided before saying, “The Bush Wars ended in 1992, we pulled out then since a major threat to the Rhodesians and our way of life was gone. Afterwards we enjoyed a very peaceful stretch of years until 2014, the bombing of our Secretary of Defense, Ronald Sung.”

Saar’bac thought to himself, “All orchestrated. Ronald Sung was a pansy and wanted less military spending. Thank god James Reagan was nominated, a real boon to the Defense Industry.”

Val resumed, “And that’s when the old wounds from before reopened. We have claimed that we will find the perpetrators, but the public doesn’t know who did it. The Special Activities Division, our version of your intelligence agency, has tracked down the origins of the bomb. It pointed to a former member of the GPB who still lived in Genosha. Again, we tried asking the Genoshans via a private manner instead of a official diplomatic message for help. Guess who refused to comment or help?”

The Vice President’s throat was now dry again. He grabbed the cup that was poured a while ago and finished it. After the last drop went down his tube, he breathed out a audible sigh. Val leaned forward on the chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“The investigation into Ronald Sung’s assassination lead somewhere, but it was a dead end. It wasn’t until the Econo-Attack, the bank attack that held servers responsible for keeping our stock market running, and around five percent of our gold reserves. There were backup servers, but they have gotten smart and blew those up too.”

“The findings of the Econo-Attack at the IBBC bank has pinpointed a handful of the individuals responsible to be of Genoshan nationality. They have escaped with the gold and several million dollars worth of various forms of currency via a subway tunnel that ran underneath. They took the train and went to Cape Hope, the very same town that was blown up by the cruise missiles.”

“From there, they loaded the contents of the bank into a shipping container, and then proceeded to load it onto the ship, the MS Konolov. We have CD recordings and witness statements confirming the loading of the stolen gold and money onto the vessel.The Konolov has sailed in a southernly direction towards Genosha, as confirmed by SonarBuoy hits.”

Val started looking a little apprehensive, before calmly saying, “SonarBuoy is a rather classified oceanic monitoring system that Rhodesia uses to track ships more effectively instead of radar hits or radio. Buoys are typically used to track waves and warn of a rouge wave or possible hurricanes. What we have done in the 90s was outfitted these buoys with more wave sensitive equipment, as a result, we can differentiate between a passing ship and the waves, unless it’s bad storm. Anyways, these SonarBuoy hits confirm the direction where the ship went, and it allowed us to track it down for questioning.”

“We caught up to the Konolov, and attempted to slow it down via warnings. However, it refused and so the frigate responsible, the RS Volker, fired a shot into the aft section of the hull. The shot crippled the engines and forced the container ship to a halt. Marines boarded the ship and were under fire. We lost two lives but managed to take down 11 of the perps. Each of them had the GPB’s tattoo. The crew were unarmed and unscathed, and they were brought on-board the Volker for questioning.”

“There was a Free Pacifican on board but he was cleared and considered not a threat after a few days. So was the rest of the crew. However, their testimonies were the disturbing fact. Again, there are the CDs and witness statements, along with their signatures confirming their testimonies. They said that they were being paid by Serenitech to transport that crate. There were no conflicting reports from the crew too.”

He breathed for a few seconds, then continuing, “As natural, we started investigating Serenitech but that led nowhere. Someone or some group was good at hiding their trails.”

“That’s it for the history lesson and the lead up,” the felidae said, finally laying back into the chair. “The Cape Hope Cruise Missile attack happened. Our maritime patrol aircraft, RP-3C Albatrosses, had radar hits early in the morning. The cruise missiles flew at very low level, basically skimming the waves. Then began the slaughter of our people. We had enough data on where the cruise missiles came from, which we will share with you, that pointed directly to Genosha. If that wasn’t enough, there were salvaged parts of the missiles that were coded with a launch location, just west of Hammer Bay, the capitol of them. A few plates of metal survived, saying ‘Death to the Rhodesians’ and one of them had the insignia of the Genoshan government.”

“And then, the rest is history,” he said, finally ending the speech. “I apologize, I hate speeches, makes me sound preachy.”

Arctoris smiled, breaking the neutral face he had maintained through the meeting. “I can understand that completely,” he said, “but I assure you, you did not come across as preachy at all.”

The phone on the President’s desk rang as Arctoris finished speaking, and Brenner rose and crossed the room, picking it up. She spoke with someone for a moment before hanging up, then turning back to the group. “That was Director Starr. They’ve retrieved the intelligence, and are now in the process of digitalizing it for analysis.”

“Very good,” Arctoris said, rising himself. “Vice President Saar’bac, you’ve give us a great deal to mull over here. And we’ll still need our intelligence services to review the provided information. Once that’s done, we should be able to have a more extensive conversation regarding Genosha. I understand that there is a great deal of urgency to ongoing events, and I guarantee you we will consider this information as quickly as possible. I’m not sure if you’d like to wait here in Liberty City for that, or return home – we can communicate directly either way once the review is done.”

Saar’bac sat in his chair, nodded, and smiled. “Hopefully this clears up the air President Arctoris. As to the information, please do keep it under the most secure lock and key as possible, please?” he asked, with sincerity. The last thing Val wanted was to have the classified data leaked to the unknowing public and possibly future enemies of Rhodesia.

The Vice President stood up from his chair to extend a hand while further commenting, “I will be able to stay for a few days at the Embassy so you know where to reach me. And one more thing, are there any good restaurants nearby, preferably fried food?”

Arctoris grinned. “I am not a Liberty City native myself, but I’m sure Miss Brenner can give you a few recommendations? Miss Brenner?”

Brenner nodded. “Of course, Mister President.” She motioned to the door of the office. “If you’ll follow me, Mister Vice President, I can print out a map for you with several recommendations.”

Meanwhile in the waters off Hammer Bay…

A lone Diesel-Electric submarine was cruising the waters, monitoring the surroundings. The Crew inside the main room were silent, looking up and around them, sweat forming beads on their faces. The Captain stood there monitoring the Hydro-acoustics station as the sailor worked.

“Sir,” said the felidae manning the acoustics equipment, “We have an unknown submarine.”

“Unkown?” asked the captain, perplexed. This level of confusion was new to him, for he always had confidence in his command.

“Aye Sir, the screws. It’s…” the seaman paused for a minute before resuming, “Unique.”

“How so sailor?” he responded, taking a sip out of his coffee mug. Inside was coffee blacker than the darkest depths of Urth.

“We can detect the speed, location, and type of screws a sub is using Sir. But that’s the thing, it’s the only sound it produces and how that sound is. The screws are the only thing that I can hear,” remarked the felidae as he went through his station flipping a few switches back and forth while twiddling with a knob. “There is no hull vibration, no powerplant humming, not even flow noise.”

“Is it Genoshan?” asked the captain, deferring to his submarine identifying expert while taking another sip.

“No Sir, nor is it even remotely possible for Genosha to get ahold of such a sub. It’s someone else’s.”

After a few minutes of mental deliberation by the captain, he said, “Alright, keep us in it’s baffles and relay instructions.”

“Aye Aye Sir,” said the cheetah in his uniform before shouting, “New Heading! Zero, Nine, Eight! Maintain Current Speed!”

The XO now repeated in his booming voice, “New Heading! Zero, Nine, Eight! Maintain Current Speed!”

The driver shouted, “Aye Aye,” as he rotated the controls. The submarine now tilting and turning left from it’s original heading, the captain stood there, tilting to the right and counterbalancing as to not drop a single bit of his coffee while sipping. It was considered bad luck in the Rhodesian Navy if a sub captain had coffee dripping from their mugs.

The XO was confused and walked towards the captain. He whispered into his commanding officer’s ear, “Sir, we are not sending a message or signal at least to command?”

The CO replied, “Too risky, doing so would reveal to our mystery guests where we are. We will be doing this quietly as possible and find out where that sub is heading.”

“I see,” remarked the XO in realization.

[hr]


Same map as before but updated to show progress.

“Mad Dog” Lex stood there at the map on the table. He pointed out a blotch of tan in the middle of Genosha to his subordinates.

“Here is a rather large gathering of Genoshan equipment and fighting men. We cannot siege them since it’s a major military complex reinforced with tank fortifications and Anti-Air batteries. What is being done instead is that we will maintain a line around the fort and eliminate any efforts to expand or create a funnel towards Hammer Bay,” said the Marine General heading the land war.

“Why not use jammers to allow bombardment?” asked one of the high ranking members.

“Tried that, they had Anti-Radiation Missiles. Crafty bastards I’ll say. We lost a P-3 AEW&C craft to an anti-radiation missile.”

“Anti Radiation Missiles?” asked the confused official. The general rolled his eyes and looked towards another subordinate, this time a Navy official.

The Naval officer took his que and said, “Anti-Radiation missiles are used to eliminate Anti-Air positions that use radar to detect planes. Jammers have a source for all the electronic radiation it gives off while the overloading frequencies emanate from it.”

The general then said, “And as a result of this capability, we have instituted a no fly zone around those fortifications. The only hope we have of defeating such a formidable location is an official declaration of surrender from the government. It is estimated that there are enough supplies within the fort to last them five years. Five years of fighting that we cannot afford.”

He points to Hammer Bay, the capitol of Genosha and continues,“We currently have a fighting force on the outskirts of the capitol, but we are not pushing in yet. Our Marines are too stretched thin in order to make the final push. We are currently awaiting for the Army to come in and take over the duties of provincial and village protection from any anarchists or marauders. So far they are about a quarter of the way through on taking over.”

“Why do we have Marines protecting villages and towns?” asked another high ranking Marine.

“Because we want to maintain order,” remarked the general. “The last thing we want is more innocents dying from the power vacuum. The Marines are currently working with the local law enforcement to promote order. Protests are here and there, but we have strict orders to allow protesting until it turns violent on the protester’s part. The Army will take over those duties as an occupational force.”

He then continued, “It’s taking a little longer than predicted because of the initial blitz. But in a day or two we can make the final push.”