|
Post by Heikki Toivonen on Mar 4, 2005 1:37:06 GMT -5
Heikki scans the paper for anything interesting. He is bored. The Chechens are tiring of him. He finds a small artical about a German Nihilist group called Das Ende. It is just a blip, but enough to catch his attention. He decides to head to the library to see if he can learn anything more about the group.
|
|
|
Post by Aleksandra Odinsova on Mar 4, 2005 1:41:15 GMT -5
"Yeah, let's go to your mansion. I don't like this dumpy base. Everything is too...plain."
I roll my eyes at a soldier checking me out.
"You and Mischa are like the cutest couple. If you get married, can I be a bride's maid?"
|
|
|
Post by Heikki Toivonen on Mar 4, 2005 1:50:47 GMT -5
Heikki comes across some archived news articals about the group as well as some names. His research has yeilded more than he expected. He sends an email to one of the organizers explaining that he is a Finnish nihilist who has been working with Chechen nationlists for a few months now. He is looking for something more than what the terrorists can give him and would like to help their organization. He sends the email and heads back to the cafe. He feels tired and needs some caffeine to perk him up.
|
|
|
Post by kasimir on Mar 4, 2005 2:20:45 GMT -5
"They know about Grenhoffer."
Kasimir casually rolled the name off of his tongue. The name weighed heavy on his existance, he knew. If Grenhoffer was dead, they would all die. It was still cramped in that office space on the third floor of a derelict building in a forgotten district on the outskirts of Berlin. A female voice chimed in, soft and unattached.
"And Galtz?"
Kasimir turned to her, looking at her face. The girl was younger than him, only in her twenties. Kasimir knew her only as Frigga. She was not German, she had been born in a more northern region. Her platinum blonde hair was put up into a cascading blossom of shimmering ribbons.
"Galtz is in Russia." Kasimir replied plainly.
The girl nodded gravely, sighing heavilly. She turned to a man nearby who he knew as Jorgen and whispered something into his ear. He whispered back, nodding in agreement to a silent statement.
"His presence in Russia is disturbing news, he will work to create a pact between the fascists and the Russian government."
Kasimir looked unblinkingly at her. His eyes unwavering.
"I am of that belief as well, and I will be departing to dispatch Galtz presently."
Frigga nodded slowly, understanding the importance of his task. She stooped forward in her chair, reaching under the conference table. She gripped something and brought above the surface of the table, setting it down gently. A violin case.
"Destroy the entirety of Moscow if it is necessary and possible, I suggest hi-jacking a decomissioned nuclear device."
She said it with a smile. Her teeth tarnished by coffee and cigarette smoke.
"Galtz will die, and we shall not and that is all." Kasimir stated coldly.
Kasimir pulled the case near him, opening it and peering down at it's contents. A sniper rifle. Kasimir placed his hand on the table, and suddenly he felt a slender one upon his own. Frigga's. He continued to assemble the rifle in his mind.
"Kasimir... come back alive."
His eyes turned, piercing her own. His hand moved out from under her's.
"To live for a cause is to be hunted, and to die for a cause is to be a martyr."
She turned her gaze down as he left, her eyes full of sadness. She knew his time would come soon, and death would not be kind to someone like him.
Kasimir caught a delayed train to Russia. The IRA had struck again, attacking a train containing a wealthy British man. Kasimir was familiar with their work, as they were active everywhere where there was British influence. He quickly bought a ticket and found his compartment aboard the train. It would be a long train ride. Kasimir stowed his violin case and layed down on the bed and began to sleep. The train came noisilly to life as it left the station, bound for Moscow.
|
|
|
Post by Heikki Toivonen on Mar 4, 2005 3:33:01 GMT -5
Heikki heads back to the Chechens. He has no trouble finding Septimus and walks right up to him.
"Listen, we should talk. I know you don't like me, but I think it is just a misunderstanding. We should talk." He sits down. He feels isolated around the Chechens but is tired of beating around the bush. He will confront them about their tense relations.
|
|
Ian "Mad" Sweeney
Card Carrying Member
IRA Terrorist/Dock Worker
I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost
Posts: 107
|
Post by Ian "Mad" Sweeney on Mar 4, 2005 6:40:41 GMT -5
"Where the feck do you think you're going?" Mad Sweeney asks, his gun aimed at Alexander. It's a moot point, since the door is automatic and operated by the conductor anyway.
"Now sit back fecking down you fecking idiot."
He notices Alice on the ground.
"What are you still doing here, you old wagon? Why didn't you leave at the two oppotunities you had? Bloody feckin' shite, I don't want to take some lady hostage right now, and you're not even important. Get the feck out. There's a back door fire-escape sort of thing. The train is going to get going again soon."
|
|
Arete Caridad
Party Sympathizer
Capitalist Rice Field Owner
Posts: 33
|
Post by Arete Caridad on Mar 4, 2005 7:44:24 GMT -5
Arete rolls her eyes in fustration. She hops off the bed in her hotel room and paces around.
"Daddy, at this rate, your going to give me a complex..."
"....!"
"Well, damnit! I can't keep going where you want me to all the fucking time! How the hell am I going to start my resturant if you won't let me pick a proper spot!" "... ... ... ... ...!"
"Mommy is right. You are a chuvenistic pighead!" "...!" "Damnit all to hell! Fine, I'll leave in three week. Get the fuck off my ass till then, Dad!" "...! ....!. ...." Arete closes the cellphone and lays back in her bed. These next three weeks will be hell.
|
|
|
Post by Alejos H. Coy IV on Mar 4, 2005 9:09:04 GMT -5
"Oh, bullshit..." he says when he sees the collapsed building.
|
|
|
Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 4, 2005 9:58:28 GMT -5
(I am sorry if I messed up the train scene, I guess I misunderstood what you wanted the socialists to do. Oh well, there should be other npc hostages on the train, and other chances for the military to confront the socialists.)
"This day is not turning out well at all. I hope this is not a presage to what the meeting will be like. But, no worries, we can simply find another hotel."
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 4, 2005 11:58:58 GMT -5
Alexander shut up and sat back down before grabing a bottle of water. Can you cut my hands and feet please? I'm in dreadful pain. It would make this ride much better too. But i will tell m15 that you want Ireland back. ok? good.
|
|
|
Post by kasimir on Mar 4, 2005 12:42:00 GMT -5
The train ride to Moscow had been less then uneventful for Kasimir. As it came to a halt at the station, a recorded female voice came over the speaker overhead in his compartment. It spoke in Russian, a language Kasimir only knew one word: Vodka. He unfolded his arms and picked up the violin case. He turned his head to look out the window at the motherland. Everything was coming apart at it's seams. Buildings dilapidated, hunched over on their last breath. Streets full of water leaden potholes. People emaciated, turning ghostly white. A woman begged for American change on the platform. America, how ipso facto. George Washington was president of the world.
Kasimir stood and walked out into the corridor. Not many rode the train to Russia anymore. Even this long after communism's decline and it's sudden collapse, post-communist kleptocracy bled Russia's cold blood dry. It struggled to maintain an uneasy peace, and even recently pressure and terrorism from Chechens was becoming an unchecked problem for the ultimately corrupt system of government.
Kasimir stepped off the train and onto the platform. The air smelled of poverty, defeat. Kasimir payed no attention to the myriad of beggars, asking for their alms of food and money. He pushed past them and the crowd, seeking transportation to the inner part of the city. Galtz would surely be among one of the government complexes, not suspecting one man and a violin case could find him there. He reminisced about his once brief time in incarceration. They beat him. They electrocuted him. They cut him. They burned him. They got nothing out of him. Galtz sat in the background, watching on in some perverted glee. He would laugh when Kasimir grunted at the pain, a cigar firmly pinched between his aqualine jaw. Kasimir hated Galtz more than any other man on the face of planet earth. Galtz was also one of the last three to know sensitive information about Das Ende. For that alone, he would die.
Finding nothing to take him downtown, he began walking. Russia and Germany already shared an alliance of sorts, their intelligence forces forming almost a separate entity all on their own. It was unfortunate to Kasimir that he was infamous for his crimes, and not just in Germany. Almost all anti-terrorist forces knew Kasimir, and they saw him as the coming of the devil. The incarnation of apathy. Trophy sport.
Kasimir kept his head down, his posture calm. If he was detected in Russia, that would make him an international terrorist by default. His death was certain if he was captured by government agents. He was always ready for death, but it would be inconvenient for him to die without Galtz dead first. Kasimir kept walking, for it would be close now. Close to das ende.
|
|
|
Post by Peter G. Nielsen on Mar 4, 2005 15:07:39 GMT -5
Go! Peter spins around the door frame and runs in a crouch down two cars of the train to the first class. One of the terrorists is speaking to one of the two remaining hostages. The other two are doing nothing. Only three. Good.
Peter drops to one knee and sights on one of the two doing nothing. He fires of two quick shots from the silenced 9mm, swings in an arc towards the speaking terrorist, firing another pair of shots at the second silent man as he does.
Shot to kill. Save the hostages. Peter fires for the third terrorist then throws his weight to the side and rolls into the row of seats, crouched between the large first class chairs. In couch he wouldn't have been able to fit between the seats but here there was enough space to fit... bearly.
|
|
|
Post by alex on Mar 4, 2005 16:17:02 GMT -5
Alex notices the man in black squeezing between chairs. He is a stock holder of one of his oil fields. Alex is happy that somone has come to save him.
|
|
Ian "Mad" Sweeney
Card Carrying Member
IRA Terrorist/Dock Worker
I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost
Posts: 107
|
Post by Ian "Mad" Sweeney on Mar 4, 2005 16:47:32 GMT -5
((Actually, after the last stop, the only people left were the socialists, Alexander, and Peter. It's OK, we'll compensate. Hey Alexander, want to use your cell phone to warn the Russian army about the socialists? That way I could still have a dramatic train fight. The train will get started again shortly. what stop do you think would be after Moscow?
There's only four of us total. You can take down two NPC's, but I don't wanna be dead, and someone has to drive the train.
Also, apparently I was reading about the wrong IRA. There's three. X I. Anyway, apparently they are slightly Marxist. Sorry for the confusion. Maybe I will drop by the socialist meeting. Also, the cease-fire is totally off!))
The train lurches forward suddenly, and Sweeney notices a spray of blood on the transparent plastic door between first and economy class. He didn't hear a shot or a shatter, so he assumes that whoever it is is inside the train.
"Feck. Fecking bloody hell," Sweeney takes out his own gun, and cocks it.
"Come out, come out, whoever you are. Didn't you ever go to Sunday school? Killing people is a mortaller."
The train is moving steadily now. Mad Sweeney grabs Alexander Larson by the collar.
"Come on you fecking tanner, we're going to the front of the train."
|
|
|
Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 4, 2005 16:51:06 GMT -5
I sit in my office and look over the slip of paper on my desk telling me who I am meeting with and when.
11:00 a.m. Dr. Albin Moeller, Foreign Minister, Denmark 11:30 a.m. Mr. William Brown, Special Representative of the Secretary-General for the United Nations Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUC) 12:00 a.m. Mr. Zdenko Rupel, Foreign Minister, Slovenia in his capacity as Chairman-in-Office of the OSCE 12:30 p.m. Mr. Eric Lunde, State Secretary, Norway 3:30 p.m. Mr. Babatunde Sizwe Mbuso, President , Equatorial Guinea It will be another busy day. Later this week I hope to meet with some Russian and American officials to discuss the threats of Terrorism and to moderate the potential for war with certain hotbeds for terrorist activity.
|
|