SDNWorld Redux: Story Thread the Second

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Constantinople Times

Regulation efforts on the stock market stepped up.

The state financial regulation authority Security Exchange Commission (SEC) together with the Corporate Crimes Division of the Byzantine Police has stepped up its surveillance of companies possibly involved in money laundering, and other forms of fraud. "We take crimes of this form very seriously." The Constantinople Stock Exchange has one of the largest market capitalizations in the world, and is also one of the most thoroughly regulated stock exchanges.

Questions Asked on the Japanistan 90tonne tank

With Japanistan just directly south of Byzantium, questions were inevitably raised on the 90tonne tank that the Japanistan are said to be producing in numbers. "The tank obviously is designed to charge up north to attack our southern flank in the inevitable war," says an analyst at the military history department at the Thessalonki Military academy. "The military is said to be working on countermeasures, and some of our MESS allies probably have something up their sleeves to deal with that tank. In any case, a tank like that will need a huge long logistical train to support it. I'm not sure if it's good idea to have such a huge tank."

First 4 MiG-31BM Air Regiments enter service

The USSR delivered its first 96 aircraft as promised, together with 48 aircraft produced locally. These aircraft will be deployed at Athens, Crete and Jerusalem and will undergo intensive training, which started since the beginning of 2009. Pilot recruitment was increase substantially since 2008 and many of these pilots are beginning to enter frontline service.

[PeZook]

Orena Evening News

Happy New Year's!



Attended by the King himself, Old Orena saw a spectacular celebration of New Year's Eve. The King, having spent Christmas with his wife at Jerusalem following FASTA Mercury 2 launch ceremonies, graced this year's celebrations with his presence.

In a short speech, King Paul thanked the world community for their show of support after last month's assassination attempt. Report indicate that more twenty thousand letters flooded the Royal Palace after the attacks.

"I am sorry I couldn't answer even a small fraction of them individually. However, this opportunity allows me to thank everyone at once.", said the King.

"This world has managed to survive another year. For that, we should be thankful and celebrate life and all its positive qualities.", was another, somewhat cryptic statement made by our sovereign.

We wish our viewers a happy New Year, and hope it will be better in every way than the last one!

ESEL system goes online

After nearly 1.5 years in development, the electronic citizen's evidence system (ESEL) will go online on January 1st.

To recap, the system will centralize the storage and processing of information about PeZookian citizens. Elements of the system, as well as initial development and migration, have topped 5 billion dollars, making it the single most expensive administrative reform to date.

However, once the system goes online, and replaces 80% of currently circulating documentation, the savings - both for the administration and the economy as a whole - are predicted to return the investment rapidly. Only 2% PeZookians have replaced their ID with the new ESEL-compliant document, however, and migration is not expected to complete sooner than end of 2011.

The King to visit Shinra, Prime Minister to attend FUN conference

Splitting the government's obligations, the King shall visit the Shinra Republic in January, while the FUN Forum will see a delagation headed by the Prime Minister.

Many political pundits are questioning this decision, some going as far to claim the King is shying away from making hard political decisions ever since the assassination attempt.

"We've seen the King in Jerusalem, spending his time sailing the Mediterrenean on the taxpayer's dole. The assassination attempt has obviously made him fearful and unable to lead.", said one vested critic of the King's administration.

The Royal Office denied the accusations, claiming that fostering relations with Shinra are vital to the Republic's national interests, while the Prime Minister is more than capable of making policy at the FUN Forum.

The King on a sailboat: unnecessary leisure?

Leisure time is in short supply for PeZookia's sovereign, however many pundits are criticizing the unexpected and unplanned weeklong vacation at Jerusalem, which the King spent sailing with his wife.

Various voices raised concerns about unnecessary expense of taxpayer money, waste of time which could've been spent on securing PeZookia's interests abroad, while some go as far as to claim the King 'made himself look ridiculous'.

The Royal Office tirelessly defends the King's decision, pointing out his immediate return to rule only a few days after the assassination attempt which "Left the King's family in dire emotional problems, which required some rest and peace."

Meanwhile, several bloggers in Shinra, Shroomania and Canissia have viciously attacked the King's critics. Carlson Blade,a semi-famous Canissian political blogger used the strongest words:

"Yeah, because it's so outrageous to go out and unwind for a week after you were nearly murdered, after having spent a month going from one burial to the next. It's the first vacation the guy has taken in two years: BnL's CEO takes one every six months. You idiots should try to manage a country for two years and see when you would need to go unwind."

New Military Journal

First two Yer Mom class SSGNs comissioned

ORP "Zbik" and ORP "Sowa" have entered service in the PeZookian Navy, comissioned during a spectacular ceremony involving the Royal Pair. Named after two nocturnal, predatory animal species native to PeZookia, these two vessels will provide PeZookia with a quick-strike capability against our enemies. Armed with anti-ship missiles, torpedoes and supposedly other classified systems, both submarines will not begin sea trials.

First combat patrols will be undertaken by September 2010. The PeZookian Navy is planning to lay down six more Yer Mom class submarines in 2010, to be completed in 2014.

Nine squadrons, two wings formed equipped with F-15 ACTIVE fighters

100 F-15 ACTIVE fighters have now entered service in eight Tactical Fighter units throughout PeZookia, replacing all of the aging Mig-29 OVT fighters.

Additional procurement of the F-15 ACTIVE is planned for 2010, for a grand total of 144 active aircraft in two fighter wings, plus a 10% reserve for accidents and technical losses.

Interceptor procurement planned

As part of the Air Force Upgrade program, the PeZookian Defence Ministry is planning to deploy a total of three heavy interceptor wings (216 aircraft) over three years. A tender has begun for a heavy interceptor, capable of Mach 3 flight at an operational ceiling of 18 kilometers or more, equipped with AESA radar, capable of using munitions currently in stock and working with the Continental Air Defence system.

PeZookia to continue investment in the Continental Defence System

The Defence Ministry has announced it will forego force replacement for losses incurred during 2009 peacekeeping operations, instead directing the funds to necessary upgrades of our IADS as per the Continental Defence Plan.

[Shroom Man 777]

LIVE on ShroomStratTV



We're here live, celebrating New Year in Farbanti, Shroomania. The Prime Minister's having a ball over at Faith Park, it's a great party and everyone's here! Rock god David Shroomwie, football hero David Shroomham, and sorcerer supreme David Coppershroom all doing the boogie!

It's a great time for all! Shroomania's had one hell of a year - big scares, worries over world wars, a little trouble with the economy - but the country's going on strong. People are happy that they're not next door to any wars or big problems, people still feel safe, and the Prime Minister's making us feel good and happy and gay.

So far, so good.

Right now he's making us laugh, look at him do the limbo! Come on, Prime Minister, bend those knees and not your back, come on... come on... oh, snap! You can hear his back cricking loud as he falls on his ass and... well, so much for the Sovereign of Shroomania! Our glorious leader has been struck down at his prime!

Hey!

What?!

Woah! Take a look at that Big Bang!





*click*

MILITARY MATTERS MONTHLY
A MacMillan Publishing Product


The SSS Yer Face completes construction, commission coming curtly.


Twenty more B-1C Lancers enter service. Forty for 2010, a few more for 2011 forthwith.



*click*

Farbanti, Shroomania
At the Shroomdorf Hotel

Srdjan Karic watched the TV with titillated stupor, since he was drunk and groggy, but at the same time high thanks to the crystal meth he injected into his cock.

Goddamn whores, they had passed out and vomited all over his fancy and expensive suite. They were as good as dead, like corpses, except they were drooling in their overdosed state.

Their breasts were also bleeding, since they had piercings. Which Karic ripped off. With his teeth.

Alone in the room, for his men were outside protecting his precious privacy, Karic decided to enjoy himself.

His cock was still hard from its recent injection of crystal meth. He decided to masturbate vigorously. Furiously, with all the wrath of an angry god.

Then he screamed.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR! FUCKERRRRS!"

[Coyote]

Seaside Palace, Canissia




"Happy New Year!" King Arik celebrated with the rest of them. It was a New Year's Party with most of his Ministers and Cabinet invited, and personal friends. Technically, it was a social event, formal, with dances and wine and food and discussion, but there were, in fact, at least three different parties going on.

In the basement home theater area, children were watched over by courteous staff, liscenced day-care providers all, providing a safe place to play, watch movies, and horse around until they gradually fell asleep. At the ground floor, the formal events were taking place, where tuxedo'd and evening-dress'd couples mingled. The third phase of the party didn't really get started until much later, and it was after the crowd of hangers-on had thinned; that was when those that were staying the night migrated to the upper levels, where the hot tubs, faux bear-skin rugs, and things like chocolate pudding, baby oil, candles, and a variety of tasteful latex gear was kept.

"This is awesome," Arik said as he staggered away from Siobahn and Isabelle, both dressed in sleek and sexy form-fitting cheetah suits as he feigned fear and tried to get away. "Oh, no! They have cornered the intrepid jungle explorer!" he cried before sliding down the hallway in a conveniently-provided slip-n-slide. "It is good to be the King" as the "cheetahs" slid towards him on the Slip-n-Slide as well. Arik's other wives appeared, dressed as well as verious predatory animals, but carrying bottles of alcohol as well. Arik was thinking of something clever to say when they heard a feminine voice holler "Giddyap!". Greens Party leader Myra Foxglove had lost her "naughty librarian" outfit and had saddled up the Finance Minister's beefy chauffeur and was riding him down the hall, whacking him with a riding crop. Both were too drunk to notice the King being "devoured by jungle beasts".

"I love new years," Arik said.

[Siege]

Fire Works

Presidential Palace, downtown San Dorado



Fireworks lit up the night sky. Streamers of confetti descended. A thousand explosions in a bewildering variety of colors and patterns blossomed above San Dorado. Green and blue, red and gold, licks of light and flame dazzling silently behind the thick, armored windows. The greatest concentration of them all was centered around Longacre Square, only a handful of blocks from the Presidential Palace. Its top fifteen floors offered a grandiose view of the spectacle. The traditional fireworks were even more outrageous than a year before.

A year ago, the President had cause to be gloomy: the CSR had been adversarial over the continent's southern regions; the economy had been unduly burdened by the cost of military interventions; the FTO had seemed as if it were breaking apart, and San Dorado had been shunned on the Old Continent by everyone except Shroomania.

A lot can change in a year, President Hank mused quietly, and poured himself a good stiff drink. The Reds had mostly left Frequesuan shores and relations with them, with Canissia, and with Byzantium had markedly improved; the past year had brought no cause for military adventures; crises that could’ve damaged San Dorado had been averted, and the economy was roaring.

All things considered it had been a good year. All alone, the President raised his glass to the blossoming fireworks outside the window. “Cheers to that”, he said to no-one in particular.

“Cheers to what?” a familiar voice called out. President Hank smiled and turned around.

“Daphne. It’s good to see you.”

“Hmm. Is it really, Sidney? You’ve steered clear of me for the last two weeks.”

“Of course. I’ve got to keep up appearances for the Board”, the President took a sip of his whiskey. “We’re all pretending the Chauki Lake Incident was… An accident, so I'm supposed to be rather mad at you.”

“So that’s it? No regrets, no ‘damn Daphne, you sure handled that situation smoothly’? Just keeping up appearances?”

President Hank smiled faintly and spread his arms in a gesture of defeat. “Alright, alright. You’re right. I shouldn’t have blown up in your face. I shouldn’t have doubted your ability to handle the situation. And I probably should've told you that earlier. And finally, I admit: You’ve got some moves on you, girl. So you may color me officially impressed.”

Daphne Sinclair smirked and walked toward the window. “That’s better.”

“You know how it pains me to have to admit that, don’t you?” The President grinned wryly. “I didn’t become President by admitting I was wrong very often.”

Daphne returned his grin and came a few steps closer. “Of course I know, Sidney. But then I didn’t become General Director by not knowing how to get men to do my bidding.”

“Ooh, touché my dear.” Sidney Hank put down his glass. “So, what now?”

She looked him in the eye, a teasing expression dancing around her lips. “Hmm. Wanna watch TV?”

“Not really.” The President moved closer, his figure backlit by fireworks. “All that’s on right now is some silly speech I gave.”

“Quite so”, whispered the Director. Suddenly there was no more space between them, and they kissed as many-colored sparklers blossomed outside the windows.

[K. A. Pital]

Empyrean City, Misteria



When Fidel came off the ship, the first thing he said:

- Happy New Year, Misteria! Thank you for hospitality!

[DarthShady]

New Year Celebration

With the Premier back in Temple Prime, relaxing and celebrating the new year. People of the Shadow Union could also relax, celebrate and get drunk.


Sarajevo New Year's Celebration

And so they did...

The Premier made a brief statement on television, congratulating everyone the new year and mentioning something about revenge and murder, but everyone was to drunk to care.

Happy New Year!

[Master_Baerne]

Baernish Ministry of War
Deployment Orders
BDN CORVETTE HGS BLUE

You are hereby ordered to proceed to the last known location of the Green, there to investigate the lack of radio contact with the same. You are warned that the vessel may have been attacked by hostile forces, and may require repairs or revenge.

Happy New Year, and Baerne Invictus,
Countess Truman

[PeZook]

Orena, Royal Palace



The King put down a confidential report and looked at the assembled generals. He took a minute to compose himself, trying to fight off flashbacks to the "last time".

"So the concept works...", he said, solemnly. Outside, New Year's fireworks were still firing, and music from half a dozen outdoor concerts could be heard even inside the Royal office.

"Of course, sire. There was little doubt - the physics, after all, were well understood when the project began."

"Yes...", the King has finally managed to snap out of it, and handed the report back, "I want to know more details about the program. The Parliament is becoming reluctant to fund it, but now is where the biggest costs start coming in.", he said, and the generals seemed to agree.

"Sire, there's another matter..."

"Yes, yes. Delivery, I know. We'll need something to carry the first, large devices. I want you to decide upon the best system: we can use our newly comissioned submarines or acquire bombers from Shroomania or the CSR. Get a study done."

"Yes, sire"

"If that's all, I need to get some sleep. I'll be pretty jetlagged after we get to Shinra."

[RogueIce]

70th Floor (Presidential Office), Shinra Building, Midgar

A new year, and they were still alive.

Well fuck, we made it what, three years last time? The jury's still out on this world...

Determined not to feel so damn gloomy, President Shinra went out to the balcony and watched the fireworks. His new 70-story vantage point really offered a spectacular view. He told himself it was mere coincidence that the show happened to be oriented in such a way that anyone looking from the balcony would get the best view in the city. Well, he hadn't issued any orders to that effect, at least.

When the show was over and the sky went back to being its normal nighttime self, Rufus went inside and finished reviewing his end of the year reports. The biggest acquisition was the SRS Pegasus (CVN 50) which would replace the conventionally powered SRS Republic, a proud ship that was even now spending the New Year deployed somewhere around the Velarian continent. The Pegasus was undergoing final check outs and other workups before she took on the Republic's air wing and assumed her role as the lead ship of a Battlegroup.

There were other military additions as well, of course: F-22s for the Air Force, F-35s being delivered across the Air Force, Navy and Marines, and various other weapons systems for all the branches. And of course, unlike some countries, he was investing in more than just his defense budget. Nuclear power was becoming even more widespread, and various non-fossil fuel technologies were being implemented, after looking at the various designs in other countries such as Canissia and Cascadia, as well as home-brewed ideas.

Despite the One Week War, his economy was moving along. Due to his rather late joining of that conflict, the Shinra Republic's own losses and expenditures were fairly mild. And so they were helping out their MESS allies in producing replacement munitions and aircraft. He had even authorized some of his own warstocks to be given freely to allied nations, since he had expended that much less than they had.

Deciding he had done all he could for one year, at the stroke of midnight he raised a glass, made a toast to his friends and allies in this world, the one before, and back on Earth, those living and deceased, sipped down his wine and left the office.

At 0700 that morning, it'd be time to start the new year.

[CmdrWilkens]

Columbia, Capital District
Dec 31st

It hadn't at first been a conscious decision by the city council. It hadn't been much mroe than approval for a small procession down Light Street into the heart of the Memorial District. The plan sent in by the Mothers of the Fallen had been bare in its outline specifying only that they wished to hold a procession of mothers of fallen troops down Light Street until the intersection with Independence Ave. Numbers had not been specified but all that was request was a street closure with no adidtional police forces beyond those neccessarry to enact the closure for a 2 hour period beginnign at twilight and extending until the official New Year's festivities in the Memorial District.

Now it was something much larger. The national Veteran of Foreign Wars had found out about the filing since their headquarters was a block from the intended stop point and thus would be affected by the traffic closures. shortly thereafter a formal agreement was reached in allowing a full color gaurd procession to march complete with caisson and riderless horse to be followed by the mothers. From there local groups had begun spreading the word, the ever burgonening internet spread the word even further until the whole thing became a full blown major news story with letters of support pouring in to the VFW and MOF by the pallet load. It was then that the Ministry stepped in to help co-ordinate and to provide a uniformed honour guard.

King Andreneas was known as something of a recluse, loved by many but mostly for the quiet simplicity of his governance than for public acts. His family had ruled Wilkonia for more than 10 generations and the memory of the populace was firmly rooted in the simle affair that was the Royal Palace, a mansion more in the manner of a country home than a lavish estate. Now the King himself walked beside the riderless horse holding his candle.

The whole of the city was eerily still as the Imperial Marine Corps Band, Drum and Bugle Corps, and Bagpipe Crops filled the air with haunting renditions of taps, the last post, and the call to funeral. Dress Uniformed Mairnes, Soldiera, Sailors, and Airmen stood at every cross street while the Mothers and Veteran trailed the colours, still dipped in honour of the dead. Each carried a single candle which was the only light as every office had been blacked out and every streetlamp turned off. The image would be replayed by every news broadcast and many non-news broadcasts for much of the next week, a slow parade of light moving towards the memorial district and the reflecting pool where each candle was tossed, one by one, into the water. When all but the last had been extinguished a massive 21 gun salute boomed out from the grounds of the Ministry Building opposite the pool from the procession.


"My people today is a day of both great sorry and great hope. We have suffered sorry and greif in the year past yet each of us looks to the coming day and the opening of a new year. Let us both remember the beloved departed for they have given all that they had for a cause they believed worthy. and recommitt ourselves to live for ourselves lives that will be worthy of their legacy. Today is a call for all of us to celebrate their lives by celebrating their own. We must always remember to move ever forward and ever upwards, take the lessons of yesterday and use them to enrich our souls for the journey ahead. Foroever more today shall be Remembrance Day for we look back to all that we have struggled and suffered through but tomorrow is the New and we face it with hearts lifted and joyful hearts. I pray health and wisdom to us all and ask that you pray the same for all who have not the voices to raise."

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Constantinople Times

New Year and Christmas Celebrations

The Government military spending might be resulting in a 2% rise in the VAT from 10%, but it seems citizens are taking it in their stride. The economy did fairly well this year, and people are celebrating. The Ecumenical Patriarch and the Emperor wish all a Happy New Year, and all Catholics and Orthodox Catholics, a Merry Christmas.

Budget debate round the corner.

The Senate is due to debate the budget this month. Stay Tuned.

[Pollux]

Happy New Year!

There were great celebrations all over the nation for the new year, celebrating several months of freedom from the Tsarist government.

"I'm really happy he's gone." said Julia Gregorovna, a college student in Belapol. "Everything feels so much more free now."

The celebrations used thousands of fireworks, and the streets were clogged with citizens enjoying the evening.

In the political arena, the Provisionate closed entry of new political parties on New Year's Day, and is currently holding a question and answer session with party representatives at the Kalchovskiy Palace, a noble theater during the royalist era.

We go to them now...

Kalchovskiy Dvorets

Aleksandr strode to the podium and raised his hand. Almost immediately, the din of a thousand voices ceased.

"Friends, while I have no doubts that you are uncomfortable, it warms my heart greatly to see so many dedicated to our new government."

The auditorium, whose seats had been looted in the Three Days War, rang with applause. Aleksandr waited for the noise to die down.

With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the men and women who sat at long tables on the stage.

"Here are delegates from the four political parties that managed to organize before the deadline. Barring independently running candidates, these people represent your choices in the upcoming, monumental election."

There was more applause, and a few cheers.

"We will go down the row in the order in which they organized. So, without further adieu, I give you the political parties of Misteria!"

(OOC: I am not writing big long speeches for all of these fuckers. Instead, I will merely list their positions.)

Georgi Maranyev
Liberal Party of Misteria

The Liberal Party of Misteria is Socially Liberal and Fiscally Conservative.

Important Issues:

Establishment of universal healthcare
Eight hour workday
Education reform
Reduction of the military budget
Reduction of prohibitive tariffs
No party-wide opinion on the tsar (leans toward trial in Misteria)

Kladiyus Kronov
Conservative Party of Misteria

The Conservative Party of Misteria is Socially Moderate and Fiscally Liberal.

Important Issues:

Military reform
Establishment of trade agreements
Reduction of taxes
Reduction of prohibitive tariffs
Increased provincial autonomy
No party-wide opinion on the tsar (leans toward ambivalence)

Lucien de Belapol
New Business Party of Misteria

The New Business Party of Misteria is Socially Moderate and Fiscally Very Liberal.

Important Issues:

Increased business deregulation
Establishment of trade agreements
Reduction of taxes
Reduction of tariffs
Tsar is no longer Misteria's problem

Natalya Mishov
Royalist Party

The Misterian Royalist Party is Socially Conservative and Fiscally Conservative.

Important Issues:

Increased military funding
Colonization of Velaria
Favors reestablishment of the monarchy (favors Dmitri Akulev, cousin of Pytor Omatrov)
Tsar must stand trial in Misteria for his crimes

Aleksandr added his applause to that of the audience as Mishov sat.

"Now that our delegates have introduced their positions to you, we will open the floor to questions. The attendants have microphones, and shall pass them to you."

(OOC: okay, you can ask questions of the blokes.)

[Master_Baerne]

Baernish Ducal Navy Corvette HGS Blue
Approaching HGS Green, Inner Lake, Frequesque
10 January, 2010

"I say again, respond! Over." The radioman stared glumly out the bridge window toward the slightly listing ship off the starboard bow.
"It's no use, sir. It's like they're all deaf or something."

"No matter, ensign. We'll get to the bottom of this soon enough." The skipper spoke calmly, but could not quite conceal his youth and inexperience. The coastal patrol corvettes were the BDN's way of testing it's officers, of determining how they would respond under stress.

Stressed was one way of describing the Blue's bridge crew as the telescopic sight on a camera pointed at the abandoned hulk picked up the first of many, many bloodstains on the housing of the corvette's forward gun. The Marine detachment waiting aboard the Blue's helicopter was ordered to board the other ship immediately, which they did. The first Marine off the chopper was overcome with a sense of nausea at the sight of three bodies laid out along the deck, two looking as though they'd been partially eaten.
The blood was everywhere.

The marines proceeded through the darkened ship, night vision goggles activated, taking note of the bullet holes and gore-spattered bulkheads, which grew more numerous as they proceeded toward the ship's hold. Within the airtight door, which hung loose, one hinge blasted apart by a grenade, they were greeted by the sight of seven of their comrades, all dead. One had propped himself up against the silvery canister and, dipping the stump of his wrist into the ruin of his comrade's ribcage, written:

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

-----------------------------------------------------
Baernish Ducal Navy Corvette HGS Blue
Alongside HGS Green, Inner Lake, Frequesque
12 January, 2010

"That's all, sir. Just lying there, with that horrible poem spelled out in his friend's blood." The sergeant was almost shaking with remembered terror. The BIS agent's cold blue eyes remained focused on the man.

"And you're absolutely positive that there were no survivors?"

"Yes, lieutenant."

"Very good. Thank you, that will be all."

The BIS agent spoke into the microphone in his collar; the words were transmitted to his commander, aboard the Green. "It's definite, captain. It matches exactly the incidents in the Costa."

Tinny though the return voice was, it's frustration was still evident. "Shit. Just when things were settling down, we've got a major biological incident on our hands. Have the Director tell San Dorado, will you? They're usually pretty good at figuring these things out."

"Yes, sir."

RESULTS: We're asking San Dorado for help unraveling the bioplague mystery. Oh, the irony...

[Zor]

Union Press

Zoria Celebrates the New Year

Across the Kingdom, the usual New Years Festivities have happened, including the King's New Year's celebration

Happy New Year!

Widespread growth of Zorian-Norse Faith

Today, the Assembly of Norse Preists has issued an annual report on the expedition abroad and report a massive oversees growth of the number of Zorian Norse followers after the expedition of priests was dispatched last year. A few fairly small norse communities have over the past hundred years established themselves from Emmigrant populations as well as from small communities of Zoriphiles. As of 2008, there was an estimated 45,000 followers of Zorian Norse beleifs (primarilly based in Cascadia, Alaska, Tian Xia and Serenity), now reports are in that those numbers have more than doubled to some 95,000 members, as well as establishing a presence in new nations including Pezookia, Byzantium, the Vineyards and the Crimson Star Republic, as well as increasing the Number of proper Norse Temples from, as well as putting up roots in a few of the more stable Velarian States. The largest growth so far has been in Cascadia, in which the numbers of Followers of the Zorian Norse Faith has risen from 12,000 to nearly 34,000 while Canissia has had an explosion precentagewise, expanding a population of 123 Norse adherents to nearly 3,000. The ANP has attritubted this sucess to "Hard Work, Dedication, Community assistance and the Blessing of the Gods". Numbers continue to grow

In light of the sucsess of the expedition, the Association of Shinto Shrines (Jinja Honchō) has announced a simmilar expedition to be launched, in praticular attempting to establish contact with communities of Japanistani Emmigrants abroad.

RMM Expidition approved

Parliament Hill, Port Victory-Today by a slim majority, Parliament has given authorization for Royal Mining and Metalurgy to send an expedition to the Ironridge Mountains to mine the sugnifigant and unexploited deposits of Tungsten and Copper located there. The plan will involve considerable expansion of the facillities in the Delta, including the creation of a massive new port facillity as well as an increased garrison totalling to some 5,000 additional Civilians and two maniples of soldiers and a mining base upriver with an additional 500 civilians guarded by a Century of RZA soldiers. For rapid construction, the Zorian Government has considered making heavy use of Velarian Labour in the establishment of the Delta base, while Nygaardsvold Logging has announced plans on expanding it's logging operation as the port facillities at the Dragonsnake expand, as well as considering plans on setting up additional bases upriver to capitalise on diferent species of hardwood.

[Karmic Knight]

"Now that our delegates have introduced their positions to you, we will open the floor to questions. The attendants have microphones, and shall pass them to you."

(OOC: okay, you can ask questions of the blokes.)

Jack Abrashroom, a member of a Vinish Lobby Group, silently cursed his bad luck. He was one of the best negotiators in the Vineyards, and he was now stuck in Misteria trying to decipher the fucking Crimson Dialect these bastards spoke. He thought he understood, but turned to his now trusted accomplice, a PRSF-born refugee from the War in Westchester, whose first language was Crimson, "This de Belapol guy is the pro-business guy, right?"

"Yeah, what do you want to ask him," the translator asked exasperatedly.

"Well, see if we can't find the best option for the Cabal."

"Consider it done."

The PRSFian translator/lobbyist got a microphone spoke to the Misterian "Mr. de Belapol, would your party, and you, support the GrapeVine-FreeCom-MacMillan Alliance's expansion of a free and independent media into your country?"

[K. A. Pital]

Novaya Zemlya Island Nuclear Test Facility, CSR

- Please repeat the word you used, - Stanislav shuddered.

- I said cobalt, - Andropovsky's face was dry as a death mask. - Cobalt, comrade.

- I don't want to hear that word. Ever, - the President of CSR covered his eyes. - Ever.

- That does not answer my question. What should I relay to Kurchatovsky? Is his proposal acceptable?

- Proceed with the project, - Stanislav slowly left the room and, once he was out of Andropovsky's sights, fell down on the floor and cried out with a terrible voice.

He felt his inner daemons laughing in a choir, repeating the old line: "History repeats itself twice... first as a tragedy, then as a farce".

But he was hardly much more than a cold, calculating machine now, and he quickly brought himself under control. Inhuman? Stanislav laughed. Maybe the real wastelands were not the plains upon which millions of people slowly and painfully died from the most deadly fallout weapon ever created, mass-produced and deployed due to the unbending will of the then-Secretary General. Maybe the real wastelands were the gigantic gaps inside his heart and mind, where not even the slightest hint for compassion towards human beings remained. Not even a feeling. Only contempt.

Compassion? There is the greater good, there is utility for a great majority of people. For society. Collective. There is calculated risk. There is no such thing as compassion.

This is why Stanislav was completely unbothered by the dead in Astaria. This is why the nations surrounding the CSR suddenly realized - with fear, respect or a mix of both - that his nation will not tolerate any threats, and with massive retaliation as a doctrine for the slightest harm against it's citizens, it was like a bad policeman ready to murder or maul a pocket-picker.

In fact, Stanislav thought, he was completely ready to bomb Astaria again - to make the lesson stick. He found it out when he looked inside his own heart. When did he become so cruel and evil? When did he decide that in reality, good and evil and other moral concepts that people use in daily life, do not exist, especially in politics - only goals, means and "greater good"? When did he come to the idea that anything can be solved with efficient violence?

He smiled with a bitter smile, walking down the nuclear test complex corridor away from the conference hall. It's a good thing that world leaders, including his comrades, could not pierce his thoughts.

Yuri came out into the corridor and hurried after the President, leaving the generals in the room to discuss military applications once again.

- Yuri, I heard some people have jokingly called me "Gravestone" for being secretive, hiding inside the Palace with the libraries and everything, and rarely allowing even a glimpse of my face in public, - the President was in a good mood apparently. - Going around on the streets is a bad idea, considering what happened to Shady and Paul just recently. But I want to make some sort of TV program. Call it "Hello President" or something, where I would take incoming calls and answer them for an hour. Also, make sure the calls are not filtered. I want people to see my real opinions on their troubles.

Yuri nodded.

- Very good, - the President took his glasses off. - Also, that movie...

- You mean "Slavers of Astaria"?

- Yeah. Include "Based on a True Story" in the beginning. Scenes of vicious torture are required. Make sure it's a real blockbuster. Astarians, international terrorists, and every kind of scum you can find should be lumped together as villains. The main character dies when fighting the slavers, right? And the slavers win?

- Right.

- Good. Realism is what we need. Good guys don't always win. The pure hatred and demonic portrayal of astarians in this movie will be good for propaganda.

- Astaria might sue us...

- Pay Astaria one Crimson Rouble per each citizen they claim we killed through some private company as a mediator, - Stanislav's eyes were colder than ice. - Do not publicise this fact. Do not establish diplomatic contact with Astaria.

- That's an insult! - even Andropovsky frowned at the callousness of the President's proposal.

- I must show them that their lives mean nothing to me, whereas the life of even a single Crimson citizen costs the lives of every person on their island. This simple math should be beaten into the head of every single idiot who dares to raise his hand against my people, - Stanislav's voice was dry and lifeless. - They all must understand that there is only greater good and calculated risk - as for sentimental foolishness, that makes zero impression on me.

[PeZook]

Co-written with Norseman

Bleak Castle

"Freelance slave supervisor?", Amanda asked, not even surprised.

"Yes...it's a popular trade. A company that people can hire to track their prop...slaves", Whitcomb corrected himself after seeing Amanda's expression, "Guard them and provide other associated services."

"Do I want to ask what those are?"

"No.", Whitcomb answered and decided to spent the rest of their walk in silence, staring at the walls. Since their visit to Sweethaven, Bleak Castle corridors became covered by anti-CSR propaganda posters of various kinds.

They soon walked into their usual briefing room. The ashtrays were emptied, the floor was swept clean and the trash was taken out, but daily briefings conducted by nervous people managed to leave a distinctive smell which would probably hang inside the place for weeks. This time, however, the amount of people was much smaller: the PeZookian team, five BOSS officers including Withcomb and Parkhurst and Lady Margharet herself.

"Now, since everyone is here, close the door please.", said Sebastian, who spent the last night in Bleak Castle, going over all the gathered information. He uncovered the flipchart stand once the door was closed securely and the anti-bug system was confirmed online.

"Here's what we know. Katarzyna Grochowska was operated on by George Crawley, and a fellow named Gerhard Blanche comissioned the surgery. He operates a freelance slave supervision company called 'Black Night Ltd.'. It's not actually a limited company."

Sebastian flipped the chart to a poster showing the man's face and basic description: height, build, complexion, eye color, ethnicity.

"'Black Night' is performing work for plenty of customers at this point, and is rather well renowned for its professionalism and discretion. They have offices in most major cities. What's suspect is that Blanche brought miss Grochowska for the surgery himself, suggesting that it was done by request of a very important client of his company. You have a list of all Black Night's top customers in your briefing materials."

Sebastian flipped the chart again. It showed a rather complex relationship diagram of all leads in the case, neatly arranged by legality of evidence gathered.

"The problem is that we can't charge Blanche with anything in court, since we acquired the evidence illegally. However, he was wanted for questioning with regards to the case, and thus is a legitimate suspect. Astarian law...", Sebastian consulted his notes, "Doesn't allow us to hold a citizen wanted for questioning. Therefore, I suggest we put him and his top clients under discreet surveillance."

Sebastian put down his pointer and looked at the assembled.

"I'd love to take him in for questioning and grill him, but this has the potential to do more damage than good. If the perp gets jumpy, he may execute the victim and get rid of the body."

There were nods from around the room. Sebastian always advocated patience and caution, and in this case he had good arguments supporting his position.

"Do we have enough manpower to accomplish that?", Lady Margaret asked one of her assistants

"Yes."

"Then make it so."

Eight days later

Eight days. Thousands of photographs, pages upon pages of reports. Discreet interviews with neighbors, observations made by officers involved, daily habits and phone billing information - the PeZookians were spending nights at Bleak Castle now, sleeping on cots, working through the enormous pile of evidence with their BOSS counterparts. Eventually, charts covering the walls of their briefing room filled with facts and little details, and arranged themselves in a big, clear picture.

After more than a week, two names stood out. Oliver Gill and Hannah Jones, two major slave brokers. Both well respected by their communities, both wealthy and influential, both acquired new female assistants around the right dates. Elliminating Jones was easy: thanks to Maciek's confessions, the investigation team knew their suspect was a male.

"I guess the case won't be as simple as raiding his home at night?", Nalecki asked during one of their nights spent sifting through evidence. Printouts and photographs littered the entire oaken conference table, most of them covered with sticky notes.

"I guess not. Take a look at that: Gill attended dinner with Montalba's mayor yesterday.", Sebastian held up a photographs of a horribly offensive mansion where the Mayor resided, with Gill greeting him on the stairs.

"So...what do we do now?"

"Well, we have a primary suspect. Let's concentrate surveillance on him, and try to figure out if Kasia is there or not."

Nalecki sighed. He was a man accustomed to action, and having to wait even longer didn't work well for him. Then again, they were closer to solving this case than ever before.

"I suppose there is no other way", Nalecki said, yawned and got up, "More coffee?"

"Yeah. Stefan?", Sebastian stopped the captain as he was getting up.

"Yeah?"

"Keep your men ready, just in case."

"Sure thing."

Montalba, High Hill district - The Gill Estate. Ten days later.

Kasia was alone in her room. Night was slowly falling, and with it came the inevitable return of her "master". He would come back from work, whatever it was, and would want to relax...it was her duty, as his obedient servant, to satisfy all his wishes.

She was trying not to think about this, sitting quietly in her room, reading one of her books: it was becoming tattered and used, with earmarks and stains all over the pages. Just as memories of her past life, the books - her only anchor to the past - would slowly fade with time.

Still, anticipation made her shiver. She felt cold, despite sitting right next to the heater: he's managed to take everything from her, to the point where her former identity was practically destroyed.

As the night fell, she got up to turn on the lights. When she did, it couldn't escape her the lighted windows must be visible from a long distance.

On impulse, she began flipping the light. Dot, dot, dot. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dot. SOS.

She finished the message, then repeated it, laughing inside. He could take away her life, her freedom, her body and even her very identity, but there was one thing he couldn't get at.

Hope.

Outside, the flipping lights did not escape the attention of two Astarian BOSS officers charged with surveillance of the estate.

"The hell? Which room is that?", asked one of them, while his partner fumbled with a miniaturized floorplan.

"Uhhh...first floor, east side...guest room of some sort.", he finally said

His partner screwed on a telephoto lens to their camera and started snapping away.

"It seems that slave we've been seeing lives there. We'll have to listen to what's going on in there sometime."

Bleak Castle, two days later

Maciek was sat down in a darkened room, in front of an impressive-looking soundboard. He had a pair of large headphones on, and his eyes closed.

"Now, we want you to listen closely, and try to see if you recognize the voice.", Amanda told him before they replayed last night's recording, "I want you to make sure, okay? Take all the time you need."

Maciek nodded and took a deep breath.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Amanda gave a sign to the sound technician, who started the replay. For the last two days, surveillance crews were listening in on the estate via a laser microphone, and managed to get a few short voice clips last night. They were broken up and crackly, but they had potential to crack the case.

Maciek concenrated on the voices. Two people, talking...man and woman. The man was calm, but in a creepy way...the woman seemed a bit frightened, but also resigned...

Amanda looked at Sebastian and Whitcomb, who were standing nearby. She noticed Sebastian was biting his nails, a nervous tick she's learned to pick up. She smiled at her colleague, trying to reassure him.

Maciek pulled his headphones off after several minutes.

"That's Kasia.", he said

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't know about the guy, but the girl is definitely Kasia."

"Thank you. You just saved your friend, Maciek.", Amanda told him. Whitcomb was already out of the room, walking fast towards Lady Margaret's office.

The Gill Estate, at the same time

Kasia was smiling. The nightly ritual was comforting for her: flipping the lights, while probably futile and meaningless, gave her hope and a feeling of being in control of something, even the smallest matter imagineable.

On and off, click, click. Such a simple gesture, and yet it could mean so much.

Suddendly, the door opened abruptly, and one of her master's guards charged into the room. She jumped up, frightened, and left the light switch alone.

"What the hell are you doing?!", the guard screamed, and grabbed her by the hair.

"N...nothing! I wasn't doing anything, please!"

"Bull-fucking shit! Mr. Gill is going to be furious when he hears of this, bitch!"

"I swear, I wasn't doing anything! Let me go, it hurts!", she pleaded, experience telling her it was the best way.

The guard slapped her in response.

"You'll be lucky to just get a beating, you fucking whore. You'll be lucky if Mr. Gill doesn't just get rid of you!"

He dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of the room.

"Okay", the BOSS officer outside put down the laser mic, "We've got a problem"

[Lonestar]

Royal Palace

Lonestar looked down at the assessment of the final cost to repairing the Lord Fairfax and sighed. $3bil. Almost as much as building a new CVN from scratch.

"We are twisting the budget in unnatural ways." The Chancellor of the Exchequer, William Chiu said.

"Thanks Will, I appreciate the assessment. Do you have any other bright rays of sunshine?"

"Well, our friends are doing a great job of absorbing the costs of the space program, which is good because I happen to recognize the economic potential if we finish a GPS Constellation first, not including the revenue off of stuff like communications satellites. Personally, I'd rather we kill all the 'pure science' space missions we got lined up…"

"That won't happen."

"..but that's doable, especially since, again, our friends are bearing the brunt of the costs. Hmm…What else? The CCC is doing a pretty good job of reconstruction of damaged infrastructure, although it gets my goat to have government workers instead of issuing contracts to engineering firms. Really, that's all we have at the moment. Oh yes, we have a new assessment of the economic damage that Shepistan has suffered, the Japanistanis must be giving an aid package that dwarfs the MESS one."

Lonestar took a sip of his glass of ice water. In the corner of the office Dr. Blitzschlag was standing, smoking a cigarette. "Doctor? You had something to add?"

"Ja, I cannot emphasize enuff how bad of an idea it is to go public with the pathogen. Zere vill be panic in ze streets, our own program vill come under scrutiny when people realize we have so much more data on it then anyone else. Zee rock-chuckers will screech and howl about 'biological weapons' and zee seaweed eaters will agree."

"It can't be helped, although with the story we've concocted we may be able to get away with explaining why our understanding is so vast relative to everyone else's. How's the SSC going along?"

"Tunneling has begun, as you well know." Blitzschlag smiled. The only thing he liked more than crimes against nature was stuff that went boom.

[Siege]

State Sickness

November 21, 2009 (Unreal Time)

The BIS agent spoke into the microphone in his collar; the words were transmitted to his commander, aboard the Green. "It's definite, captain. It matches exactly the incidents in the Costa."

Tinny though the return voice was, it's frustration was still evident. "Shit. Just when things were settling down, we've got a major biological incident on our hands. Have the Director tell San Dorado, will you? They're usually pretty good at figuring these things out."

"Yes, sir."

RESULTS: We're asking San Dorado for help unraveling the bioplague mystery. Oh, the irony...

The Paragon, outskirts of San Dorado

EIA Director of Intelligence Dwayne Carmichael was having a very bad day. He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours, his agents on the Costa were compromised and running for their lives, he was under immense pressure from the Tower to fix the mess as quickly as possible, and the BIS had asked him to help unravel what they called ‘a serious bioplague incident’. Right now he was speaking with Director Sinclair over a secure line. Sinclair sounded less than pleased when she heard of the Baernish involvement.

“A corvette of the Ducal Navy intercepted what they thought was a pirate vessel, but turned out to be a Klavostani merc ship”, Carmichael explained. “In the brief fire fight that ensued the weapon canister the ship carried was likely damaged, leading to exposure of the crew to the psychoactive agent. Everyone on the corvette died.”

“And all the mercs are dead too? At least that’s something then, they won’t be able to trace it back to us directly”, Sinclair sounded cold and distant. She was bound to be, Carmichael figured. After all it was her company that came up with this weapon in the first place.

“Everyone’s dead, yes, but they already know of the incidents in Gortinez and near the DMZ. Frankly, they’ll never believe us if we say we know nothing. We need to come up with a story, and we need to do so quick.”

“So find us some plausible deniability. That’s what we pay you for.”

“Ma’am, it’s exceedingly hard to manufacture a cover story for a chemical warfare agent getting loose. Baerne already knows, the Indopali ISIA won’t be far behind. If we won’t admit we’re the cause ourselves, we’ll need a scapegoat. We could blame Klavostan…”

“Blame an FTO member nation?” Sinclair sounded cynical. “Yeah, that’ll go over real well. We can’t do that Carmichael, even if they buy it, which they probably won’t, we can’t risk damaging the alliance at this point.”

“So who else is there? Tian Jiao, some other Great Power, it’s all too farfetched. Why would they experiment with chemical agents just south of our borders?”

“We can’t blame a foreign nation”, Sinclair sounded thoughtful. “It doesn’t serve any purpose to needlessly antagonize outsiders, and whoever we blame they’ll likely be able to disprove whatever we try to pin on them. No, we have to settle this more honestly.”

“Honestly means admitting our own director of corporate defence is backstabbing us. That’ll do wonders for our credibility.”

“Don’t be an idiot Carmichael, of course we don’t admit Ralson is behind this. Instead we’ll pin the attack on Klavostani mercs working with rogue MIC agents. Toss in some local proxies and a link to the La Palma mob, and how this nefarious cabal of evil-doers is trying to destabilize the current regime of the Costa for their personal gain. Then mention how we’ve got Citidef and the SDA hot on their trail, that we’ve got it under control, but that we’ll gladly take any assistance the BIS can offer us. Hell, call a joint meeting and feed ISIA the same story. Tell then that we didn’t want to unduly burden their assets in the region, that we’re terribly sorry for not informing them earlier, tell them anything that’ll stick.”

“And the origins of the gas..?”

“…will be unknown to us, but make sure to hint at Shepistan.”

“Hmm”, Carmichael scratched his stubbled chin. “That might just work. I’m impressed, Director. You would’ve made a good intelligence agent.”

“I hear that a lot. Now, have you got any good news for me?”

“I do. The Citidef assets on the Costa have retrieved one of my agents who knew the location of the canisters. Since then the mercs have moved them, but SDAF aerial surveillance has managed to follow them to their new hide-out. Citidef is preparing for an all-out assault as we speak. If everything goes to plan this whole mess will be resolved six hours from now.”

“Provided our allies buy our story.”

“Provided they do, yes ma’am.”

“Be sure to inform them of our plan to storm the hide-out. And tell their liaisons they can remotely observe the operation from the Paragon. That’ll make our cover-story seem all the more genuine.”

“Yes ma’am. While we’re at it though… What do we do about Ralson?”

“Nothing for now. The President’s orders are quite explicit: he wants this resolved nicely and quietly. High profile deaths aren’t part of that picture.”

“So we let him get away with it? We’ll just cover up how he compromised our WMD program and caused the deaths of dozens of innocents, including the crew of an allied warship?”

“No-one said he’d get away with anything, Carmichael. We’re not just going to forget what happened. But the untimely death of the CORDEF director just as we’re resolving this crisis will look… Suspicious, at the least. Ralson will be off the hook… For now.”

Result: Baerne and Indhopal are fed a plausible cover story for the whole clusterfuck down on the Costa.

[OOC: Sorry I have to lie to you guys, but San Dorado really can’t openly admit how colossally our operational security was compromised. Telling anyone that my own director of corporate defence fucked me over isn’t on the cards... So please buy my cover-up (although you can be rather suspicious about it); I'll let your intelligence people monitor the impending assault on the merc stronghold just south of Gortinez where the gas is stashed!]

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Constantinople Times

Reduction in procurement

Last year's bomber procurement (inclusive of missiles) was approximately worth 18 billion Byzantine Solidi, with 32 Tu-160BMs (and another 32 from previous year's procurement), and 32 Tu-22M5-BM and 16 Tu-142BM and 16 Tu-95MS-BM were produced. Tu-142/95 production line will be shut down, and this year, only 16 Tu-160BM and 48 Tu-22M5-BM will produced. A drop from previous numbers. (Each Tu-160BM is approximately 250 Million Solidi and each Tu-22BM is approximately 40 million Solidi with Byzantine electronics). 144 MiG-31BMs (Byzantine model, about at most 50 million Solidi each) will be procured as planned. Production will wind down to make way for the future MiG-31T. 16 KC-45 and 2 A380AEW&CSI have entered service, and another 16 KC-45 and 8 A380AEW&CSI will enter service this year.

On the navy side, the navy has no new procurement requirements, although it may request for one Pr. 881-955 submarine to be laid down. The Akula II Mod refit and the Type 212B refit continues, while the remaining Type 212B production will be completed by the end of this year. The first 2 Exarch and Consul class destroyers will be launched by the end of the year or the start of the next. It is expected that the Ticonderonga cruisers of the navy will be decommissioned as the new destroyers come into service. All refits will be completed by 2011-2012. Seawolf submarine production will complete by the end of the year. 2 Command Cruisers launched and testing begun. 7 Invisible Hand Surveillance ships launched by end of the year.

The Army will begin its reorganisation this year. The process is expected to take 4-5 years. It is expected that 1 billion will be allocated this year to raise new troops and to train them. It is expected that either a new tank will be produced or a new upgrade for existing tanks will be introduced. Air defence continues to take priority and the budget allocated this year is worth 15 billion solidi.

[Shroom Man 777]

Farbanti, Shroomania



The Fungal Bureau of Investigation had done its job in apprehending the shitpiece messenger by causing a minor traffic collision. NOD and the BIA’s finest physician-operative and abortionist, the renowned Doctor Gregor Hausenhorn, had done theirs as well in interrogating the apprehended shitpiece (while fixing him up for surgery, so he could be sent to the Shadow Union for execution). Now, it was time for the SSS to drop the hammer and wipe the rest of the shitpiece’s shitty friends clean. In a smooth and fairly absorbent manner, as to not leave an impolite mess.

The SSS had one team. One was enough. One team of one man…



One man without a name, one man who was known only as The Protector. The Protector of Shroomania’s secrets, The Protector of the Sovereignty’s safetitude.

He flexed his muscles and poured oil all over them, preparing himself for what was to come. Preparing himself for his mission.

But The Protector was just one man, one half of one team of one man… and one elephant.



Elephants never forget - and this one would not forget. He would not forget his training. He would not forget his duty.

Frank would never forget. Frank would never forgive.



Room 31, Apartment B Complex (ABC)

Chosse Chutzpah was an Orthodox Jew. While the Border Staters despised Jews and threw them down wells, just like what they did to Shroomites, Chosse Chutzpah was an important asset of Karic’s little splinter cell. He was important because of his money-grubbing qualities, his big nose, and his Yid Lid. Aside from those racial stereotypes that Karic’s crew valued him for, Chutzpah also had relatives in Shroomania who owned a pawn shop. An easy source of currency, plus his ethnicity to throw off the racial profiling the local authorities had enacted to catch terrorizers, made him a crucial member of Karic’s crew.

He did not mind their blatant anti-SemiteShroomitism and, in fact, embraced it as he did his group mates. His initiation rite was one where they used a red-hot iron to burn a Shadowstika on the left cheek of his buttocks. Every Friday night, he would join his brethren in reading Mein Kunt – the greatest work of Joe Itler.

After their readings came the sexy time, and they would share the porno Chutzpah bought for them using the little allotment of their penny-pinched budget they could afford.

They had to share smeared second-hand magazines because most of their budget had been allotted to buy them more important things, things more important than porno of coprophagic Canissian cunt eaters. Important things like petrol bombs, sacks of shit-smelling fertilizer, canned food rations, countless liters of un-fluoridated water bottles, and enough guns and ammunition to unleash hell upon the godless Shroomanians who they so loathed, yet whose pornography they so enjoyed.

As Chosse Chutzpah daydreamed of Shroomanian women, he started to worry – something was nagging at him from the back of his brain. Not the problem of differentiating Shroomanian women from the transvestites, but a more seriouser problem…

“Robder hasn’t been back for a day!” Chosse Chutzpah suddenly yelped in a sudden spark of intelligence and premonition. “Fuck, he’s been caught!”

“Nyet,” Kurve Kroenen shrugged. “Naaah, can’t be. He’s probably playing World of Whorecraft or something. Da! That’s it!”

“Chutzpah’s right, mang,” a third nameless person responded. “The boss told us to be extra careful, we can’t take the chance. It’s better to be safe than sorry, I say we move to our second base of operations – just in case.”

“That’s where we buried all of our stuff… the guns, the stash, and all the jewelry we got from Chutzpah’s uncle’s pawnshop after we killed him.”

Chutzpah did a double-take. “What?!”

“Uh, nothing!” Kurve laughed. “Heheheh! Just kidding, mang!”

“You… you… didn’t!”

“Everyone, shut up!” the third nameless person shouted. “Do you guys hear something?”

“Huh?” Kroenen looked at the glass of water on a nearby table and noticed that the water was shaking.




Chutzpah looked out of the window and screamed in womanly fear.

“Everyone, get out now!”

“Shit! Jesus Christ!”

“Motherfucker!”

“What the hell is it?!”

“Get out! Everyone out!”

“Run! Get to the chopper!”

Wood and plaster was crushed asunder as the one-ton mass plowed through the apartment building as though it was made out of cheap and shitty wood and plaster. Glass was broken, furniture was flattened, the refrigerator’s contents of leftover food and week-old pizza were spilled for all to see and smell – as were the sheets of semen-encrusted pornography and hate literature. Screams of pure existential horrer filled the air, to be joined by triumphant trumpeting.



They barely got out alive as their place of residence was utterly demolished by a rampaging pachyderm of bad disposition. They ran, ran for the hills without even looking back at the thing that had so utterly laid waste and ruinated their shit.

Crowds of onlookers watched, believing that the circus was in town at the same time as the demolition derby. But they were gravely mistaken. Neither events were due to Farbanti for a week.

Frank the Elephant had done his work, and now it was The Protector’s turn.

He identified his target amongst the fleeing girlie men, identified Chosse Chutzpah. The Protector homed in on him like a martial arts-practicing bat out of hell and delivered a textbook Shroomanian Secret Service backflip-somersault kick to the man’s face.



While The Protector captured his objective, Frank the Elephant finished his mission.



Kurve Kroenen and his partner were crushed alive inside their getaway car. When the SSS cleanup crew arrived, they had to use crowbars and the Jaws of Life to pry the wreckage open to retrieve their remains.

Their deaths were listed under ‘natural causes.’

But Chosse Chutzpah was still alive, and he had valuable information to give to the SSS.

There was no NOD for him, no Byzantine physician-operative and abortionist named Doktor Gregor Hausenhorn to administer a relatively painless anesthetized interrogation.

There was only The Protector and Frank the Elephant.

Good Cop and Bad Cop.

When they were through with him, Chosse Chutzpah had told them everything.

Everything.




SOFIA
Shroomanian Office Foreign Intelligence Agency



Inside the frigid sanctum of his Refrigeron, Director Johan Ludwig Baylor ignored the nakedness of his second-in-command Selphie as she bathed in the Jacuzzi. Instead, the ice-prince of the SSS paid careful attention to the video he had just received.

The snowman of Shroomanian Intelligence felt a very human chill crawl up his spine.

He was watching the interrogation of Chosse Chutzpah.

[PeZook]

Midgar, Shinra Republic

The government airliner painted in PeZookian colors taxied slowly towards the terminal under the bright, but cold January sun. Weather was excellent, and winter for once seemed to cherish its white glory, rather than make people depresses with fog, mud and constant frostbite.

The PeZookian delegation disembarked directly into the terminal, where a Shinra welcoming comittee was already waiting. The King and his wife led a small entourage of aides and assistants.

As the anthem started playing, the King looked around the terminal, and at the city visible through the panoramic windows - far in the distance.

This place seems so familiar, and at the same time so alien...I guess I will never get rid of the deja vus now..., he thought, turning his attention to the approaching Shinra officials.

[RogueIce]

Midgar, Shinra Republic

The government airliner painted in PeZookian colors taxied slowly towards the terminal under the bright, but cold January sun. Weather was excellent, and winter for once seemed to cherish its white glory, rather than make people depresses with fog, mud and constant frostbite.

The PeZookian delegation disembarked directly into the terminal, where a Shinra welcoming comittee was already waiting. The King and his wife led a small entourage of aides and assistants.

As the anthem started playing, the King looked around the terminal, and at the city visible through the panoramic windows - far in the distance.

This place seems so familiar, and at the same time so alien...I guess I will never get rid of the deja vus now..., he thought, turning his attention to the approaching Shinra officials.

President Shinra walked up the PeZookian royals and shook King Paul's hand, while giving Queen Agatha a polite yet formal kiss on her hand.

"Welcome to Midgar and the Shinra Republic," he began. "And let me state once more my happiness upon receiving the news you were all right. I know it's a little redundant, since I already have people working with yours, but the resources of the Shinra Republic are ready to help you track down those responsible."

As President Shinra's gaze took in all of the delegation, his smile briefly froze in place and his gaze stopped on one of the King's personal staff. Kamila! He had known since his visit to PeZookia itself that she was married in this world, and he had managed to prepare himself since then. But still, seeing her again, young and beautiful as he'd first met her, so long ago and in another world, was a shock. Nonetheless, he recovered quickly, though from the look on King Paul's face he knew it wasn't quick enough to entirely escape notice.

[DarthShady]

Sofia Headquarters

The Shroomanian Agents were busy, Farbanti had seen a lot of activity lately and things seemed to be heating up.

The Phone rang.

"Hello."

"Are you looking for Srdjan Karic?"

"Who is this?"

"Try the Von Schrom hotel, suite 6" *CLICK*

"Goddamn it."

Von Schrom hotel
Later...

Karic was pacing around the room, he looked angry. His men tried to stay away, nobody wanted to be a target of his rage. His plans had failed so he was now thinking up some new ones. He grabbed a bottle of Champagne and poured himself a glass.

"Boys, It's time we leave. This place won't be safe for much longer."

Karic and his men had the entire penthouse floor to themselves. The place was well secured with explosive booby traps, and his men well armed with assault rifles, shotguns, grenades and god knows what else. That made any attack on the Penthouse a potential suicide mission. To make things worse Karic had a spotter in the lobby, watching for anything suspicious.

Shroomanian agents in plain clothes had managed to get inside the hotel and prepare the stage for the Combined Special Forces task force. A task force consisting of Black Hand soldiers, GROM commandos, Shroomanian and Byzantine special forces.

Karic was having his second glass of Champagne, when his phone rang. He placed his glass on the table and answered it.

"Hello, Srdjan. Remember me?"

"What...who...", Karic stuttered, wondering who the hell could be calling his personal phone. Then it dawned on him.

"Ana?"

"Yes..."

"I'm..."

"Surprised to hear me? This was a big mistake, Srdjan, trying to have me killed. A very, very big mistake, and I fully expect you to pay for it."

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Of course you don't. If I may suggest something...check the hotel lobby."

*CLICK*

Karic stared at his phone for a moment and then called his spotter.

"Anything unusual happening down there?"

"Not really boss, I'm...", suddenly there was silence.

"Admir? Admir! Answer me damn it."

The silence continued.

"Fuck! FUCKING WHORE! Picka ti materina!", Karic shouted as he realized that his phone was being jammed.

"Boys we have some unwelcome guests, let's make them feel at home."

"On it boss."

"Is the body ready?"

"Yeah boss. It's in the bathtub."

The body they were talking about was special. It's teeth had been altered to match Karic's dental records. In the aftermath of what was to come, nobody would suspect a thing.

"Let's get this party started.", Karic said loading his .45's.



Everything was ready.

"All right boys, you know the plan. Me and Rotan go first, while you boys keep the cops busy. Don't forget to blow the place on your way out.", he laughed.

The two men sneaked out into the hallway to make their escape, but their way was blocked by a pair of Shroomanian SSS agents in civilian clothes.

"Fuck.", Karic said as he leaned around the corner to take a look.



"Grab the serving cart.", Karic said thinking of an idea. He hid in the lower part of the cart while Rotan covered it with a white sheet.

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll fucking kill you."

"Don't worry boss noone needs to know that you were hiding in a serving cart."

Rotan smiled.

"Shut up you bastard and get us out of here."

"Right away boss."

Slowly Rotan pushed the cart in front of him as he made his way towards the Shroomanian agents.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to vacate this floor. Please go to the hotel lobby.", the agent said.

"Of course.", Rotan answered and pushed the cart into the elevator. When the elevator doors closed he sighed in relief .

"We should have checked the cart.", the agent said.

"We have more important things to do.", his partner said.

"Yeah..." the other agent replied. "It's time for us to drop the hammer -"

"- and dispense some indiscriminate justice!" his partner continued for him. "Fuck yeah!"

"Time to bust a cap on their asses!"

"And ruin their shit."

"It's payback time."

"Awww yeah."

"Oh yeah."

"Damn right!"

"We're gonna show these shitpieces that we mean business."

"We're totally gonna be mean ass motherfu-"

"Shut yo mouth!"

One minute later the elevator had reached the Basement. Karic and Rotan got out and hurried to the storage room. They pushed a closet to the side and Rotan tapped the wall. A strange sound was heard and the wall seemed to move a few centimetres. The two men pushed it further opening up an entrance into a small room. The room was a leftover from the time of the prohibition, when the hotel hid it's alcohol there. Karic had it specially prepared, It had food, water and everything else he might need.

"See you in a Week.", Karic said throwing Rotan a bag. He then pushed the wall back into place. Rotan moved the closet back and opened the bag, taking out a policemen's uniform. He than proceeded to put on the uniform and casually leave the hotel via the back door.

Meanwhile the task force was set up, snipers were in position and the rest of the men were splitting up into teams. First team took the stairs, second team the elevator and the third team was setting up on the roof, preparing to rappel down on ropes and bust in through the windows. The remaining teams secured the lobby and the floor below the penthouse, while additional troops secured the surrounding buildings and streets, police helicopters were en-route.

The Show was about to start...