ARCHIVED: IC: Shores of Añola

Felis

Felis

TNPer
OOC NOTE: Apologies for the two paragraphs per post, it's the most I can do at a time before I'm entirely stuck. <3

The golden sun that overlooked Puerto Vitora was beginning to set, it filled the sky with a deep orange light with a small bar of yellow above the horizon. The warm, tropical ocean's waves crashed into the dry, dusty beach that seemed to be the quarter-size of a soccer field. There were no tourists or people on the beach, the inhospitably scorched sand made sure of this, but there was a singular Mudéjaran tower that gave dominance over the area, it was a lighthouse for the near-minuscule port to the west - it was mainly used for imports and could only handle two ships at most.

The small village itself was incredibly cramped and claustrophobic, the streets were as wide as a person is tall, a width of two meters with some being filled with wooden carts or tiny mopeds. Elderly housewives had opened their wooden winder shutters to bat rugs and old clothing over the streets, some having conversations across the street. Most residential streets also had clothing lines blocking the sunlight from the paths, this gave a cool, refreshing break from the skin-blistering sunlight that plagued much of the continents. The village square had the privilege of being one of the few places in the village with plant-life, the grass was unkempt and trampled whilst several palm trees towered over the surrounding buildings, which were mostly shops and businesses.

Foreigners viewed Añola as a weak, backwards nation with an outdated military and barely any vehicles outside the cities. The Añolans had always disliked foreigners for their attitude towards them.
 
The capital of Añola, Paubloro, was unlike the rest of the small nation, it was a grey, depressing place - a jungle of concrete. No tourists came to Paubloro, no diplomats came to forge bonds and alliances, it was bitter, dying city where technology had overruled the culture of one's own nation, a sight of disgust to some and absolutely despicable to most. Still, though, the warm ocean crashed upon the beaches of Paubloro making the scorching sand into a soggy, wet substance. Still, though, the deep blue skies infinitely reached across it's heavens and created a scene of colourless contrast. Beautiful to some, depressing to most. The citizens, however, ignored the concrete jungle, it had absorbed them and it was their life now.

King Carlos Rogeuze III sat in his throne. It was an ornate piece of furniture, with many curved and patterns that long-dead artisans had crafted many hundreds of years ago, which was made of solid iron, gold to emphasize some areas, with an impossibly dark shade purple velvet for the seating. It was an attempt to be seen as regal and culture to the foreign nations in the 1800s in an attempt to protect themselves, Añola hadn't even had guns then whilst the rest of the world was destroying itself with musket men and cannons. People believed in their King, he was compassionate but wasted money on attempts to appease the citizen's pleas and the country was entering an economic collapse.
 
Meanwhile in a small valley nearby Puerto Vitora, roughly East, people had gathered into a small-ish but imposing crowd. They were looking at the remnants of a meteorite, it was the size of a small chest of drawers and was made of very eroded rock which seemed almost pure black and absorbed almost all the sunlight that hit it, you could, however, see that the interior of the meteorite was the exact opposite of this, it reflected almost all the light that hit it and could almost blind a person after a few seconds of staring. It was also nearby an old lamp, the valley being a dumping ground for derelict items, it's plug was not directly touching the meteorite but it was roughly 2 centimeters away but was somehow turned on, you could visibly see the light-bulb shining as if it were plugged into a wall inside a home. This was an anomaly. It also, expectedly, burned one at the slightest touch.

The people were confused, a rock of two opposites that emanated electricity seemed impossible. One man shouted about aliens, others claimed that the government had put it there to defy the foreigns who'd kept it secret whilst a few others shouted several opinions. The police had then arrived, from the neighboring city of Gardeloña, and began questioning people - they seemed like they hadn't been called in but somebody had ordered them to come to the crash-site. As they questioned people, some were taken away into their vans, they were entirely black with tinted windows with the word POLICÍA on either side. The people began to get suspicious.
 
Men in deep black suits now surrounded the small valley where the meteorite had landed, they varied in height and size but all had the same stone-cold, stale expression and refused anybody access to the 10 meter perimeter of the rock that had fallen from the skies. A small, local news team had somehow heard about the meteorite and had begun travelling to the site nearby Puerto Vitora and were unaware of the crash-site's 'protectors' but it wouldn't have effected them in anyway - the crew were known for their overstepping of boundaries and disregard for general rules and laws and had somehow not been shut down yet. A small van with vibrant, ecstatic colours of all kinds grudgingly moved itself down the narrow dirt road that was littered with rocks and assorted rubbish left by lazy tourists and careless citizens, it also had a small satellite-like thing on the top of the van used for sending the live-feed to the station. As it approached Puerto Vitora one of the four tires burst on a small, sharp stone that jutted out of the ground like a razor-blade.

The group of three people, a reporter, camera-man and tech-guy, left the vehicle which had stopped just outside of the small village that dominated the area. The reporter, a 28-year-old woman with long, flowing blonde hair, quickly scouted the area, putting a hand above her eyes due to the blazing sun, and could only see the village, ocean and a small cluster of trees - they'd have to go into town and question people - not like the crew cared, they'd shove the microphone in people's faces until they lied to their faces to get them away. A moments later, they'd managed to find themselves in a small, populated street on the west side of town, they could see an elderly couple talking to eachother from windows on opposite sides of the street, a young man carrying a box of vegetables and a woman, presumably, watching her two children playing with eachother despite how small the street was. They decided to approach the man.
"HellllooooOOO!" The reporter shouted at the man as they femininely ran to him in her modern-compared-to-him clothes as the man's eyes widened in surprise, he didn't watch the news as he didn't owna television but he certainly knew who she was and wanted to get away, he backed up a little. It was too late though, she'd reached him, by barging past the two children in the rudest way she could.
"Hello! Añola East-East reporter here, Stacey Rolze. Do you know anything about the crash-site of a meteor nearby!?" She excitedly ask, shoving the microphone right into his face, almost touching his nose, despite not actually being on record or live-fed to the station.
"A-aa-ah.." He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say..
"¡No!" He quickly said, rather loudly, in a rush. He wanted the woman away from him, he knew what she was like... Everyone did.
"Are you sure! I heard the police took some people away!" She frantically asked, shoving the microphone further into his face, almost making him fall over onto his back.
"¡No! ¡No! Please leave me be madam!" He replied as his head began to cower behind his shoulders and he started to move forward without her. He began to walk faster than she could out of the street meaning she eventually gave up as he passed the children.
"How rude-" She said to herself. She then violently questioned a few others in a similar manner but eventually discovered the crash-site to the north-east of the village, past the cluster of trees that stood tall beside the ocean.

After about 1 hour of getting lost in the twisting, winding streets of Puerto Vitora thew news crew had finally gotten out and reached the edge of the cluster. They cautiously moved through the thick layer of trees that blocked the crash-site, moving vines with hands and trampling bushes as quietly as they could. Then they saw it, 5 suited men and a meteorite that absorbed almost all the light that hit it, a pure black object. The cameraman turned the camera on as quickly as possible, they reporter however had already began running at one of the suited men with the tech-guy trying to stop her but instead falling face-flat into mud - the camera fed all this to the new station's channel live and it wouldn't stop until he turned the camera off, this meant normal citizens watching their news channel could see all of this. The woman had finally reached the suited man, he was a black man with bald hair and an earpiece.
"HelllooooooOOOO!" She shouted at him, despite being right next to him, the man went from a neutral expression to a frown. He put his finger to his earpiece and spoke into a small-microphone-like thing that connected.
"Code Purple, unwanted reporter" He expressionlessly spoke into the microphone on his earpiece, he intended for the woman to hear. As he said this, the cameraman ran up him too and put his camera right into the air, making the meteorite as visible as possible. The suited man was unhappy. He hit the reporter and the cameraman, the camera falling into the ditch that the meteorite was in and having view of only that. Faint gunshots could be heard in the distance.
He had killed the news crew.
Later that night, roughly 9PM, a video of the event was uploaded onto NorthTube (Youtube). Somebody had recorded the event from their TV and uploaded it. The video slowly began to go viral during the week but was deleted by the time it had 700,000~ views. The whole world had known about this now.
 
(OOC: See? You CAN post!)

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was on the issue quickly. Suddenly, Añola was no longer a backwards nation with an economy in shambles to Syrixia. It was the site of the greatest meteor crash in decades. Minister Atlas had the Ministry send this message to the authorities at Puerto Vitora: "The Most Serene Republic of Syrixia is interested in the meteor crash within your territory for scientific purposes. Our scientists believe this meteor and the study of it could lead to a scientific breakthrough, and we would like to send over a team of scientists to investigate, with your permission. Any data found will be shared with Añola."
 
(OOC: Thank youuu <3. I think I'll stay away from character descriptions though, allow you to imagine their appearance.)

King Carlos Rogeuze III sent a recording of himself to Syrixia in response, he didn't personally own a computer, they were rare in Añola, meaning it was the simplest way for them to seem 'modern' besides letter. He sat at an ornate desk in a room constructed almost entirely out of mahogany and other assorted wood with a deep-red carpet that appeared to be burgundy, the decorations and the fireplace being made of different material and breaking up the plainness of the room itself. He sat on his, ornate alike most of the room, chair which could barely be seen behind Carlos' desk and body, he looked at the camera with a furrowed brow, crossed legs could be seen from the bottom of the desk.

"I am King Carlos III of the Monarquía of Añola. I've taken note of your interest in my nation, the reason being a Northtube video of a... unpleasant scene. We assure you, they were intruding on government activity and the punishment for such action in Añola is death.." He spoke almost emotionlessly, he then continued to give a slight sigh afterwards as he looked downward at several documents on his desk, the camera positioned so one could no see them.
"In response to your request-of-permission..." He looked further at the paper, more disdainful then ever,
"We decline. We remember the threats from Syrixia many years ago, we remember the failed invasion from Cronaal almost 90 years ago - the first world is filled with scum. You take this 'meteorite' and it's unknown materials by force or not at all." He said with anger, hatred almost as he stood up, a 'cape-like' piece of clothing being free and flowing through the air as he turned around just before the recording ended.
 
"Wait, who was intruding on government activity?" said an intelligence agent, following the message's release to the Syrixian government. "Not sure." said another agent. "Play that video again." Then, the agents watched, and one saw something in particular. In the corner of the video, while the Añolan reporter was discussing the meteor, there was what looked to be some sort of news team from a different station behind her. The first agent pointed it out and they watched in horror as government agents murdered everyone on that team. "We have to report this to the MOFAAC." the second agent said. The two hurried off, the horrific shootings stuck within their minds. A half hour later, the knowledge was in the hands of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Culture, and a message of Syrixian condemnation towards the murder of the news team and the seemingly military threat by the Añolan King was released to the world.
 
Nebulan AFI agents were deployed immediately. Within days, a dozen had infiltrated the country and were in Puerto Vitora. Each was armed with cleverly disguised weapons that were effective in combat. And they avoided public contact with one another.
 
The singular kind of Añola and his advisers were infuriated by the Syrixian's uncalled for actions, disregarding Añola's long-standing laws and naming it violent murder. King Carlos slowly pushed himself out of his throne, the seat of his ancestors, and stared out a the incredibly large and imposing door roughly 10 meters away from him - patterns and designs that explained the history of the Founding of Añola were engraved onto both sides of the door but were rendered almost impossible to see due to how dark the wood used was. He was waiting for a small group of people, the Syrixians that lived in Paubloro.

As they entered, almost an hour later, Carlos could hear their muffle complaints and worrying from beneath darkened bags that covered their heads, he smiled a little. Few Syrixian people had lived in Paubloro and had arrived many generations ago or married into an Añolan family, Carlos counted roughly 70-80 people whom most were elderly but there were also children and adult-aged citizens. His plan was to sell them off as hostages, a message back to Syrixia for their public denouncement and lack of understanding. Carlos then continued to look at each individual person, he didn't wish to hurt them but wanted to scare them, possible scar them mentally - He could isolate them from human contact and feed them little.. 'No..' He sighed as he stared at the terrified people.

"You may be wondering why my.." He thought for a moment, despising the word spies.
"Agents.. took you from your homes, schools and workplaces or wherever you may have been? Yes.. Well, the government of your homeland hs angered me and my advisers and they must be shown that such actions do not come without punishment. Therefore, you are my hostages and shall be sold off to the Syrixians for a high amount of money." He announced, speaking loudly so that those beneath the bags could hear his every word, which they did as the began to visibly panic and shuffle around in distress despite being forced down to the ground and shoved into a corner of the room. Still, Carlos smiled.


A couple of hours later, most captives being forced into the dungeon-prison that was built in the 14th century, the cameras in Carlos' office were once again turned on as he faces the camera with no emotion in visible sight. His deep, purple-ish eyes seemed dead as his head titled by the smallest amount to the left whilst his mouth began to open, to speak the words that could start a war, fill Añola's coffers or endless political summits to avoid yet another war, like the one that had occurred in Rhuvanland, the other that had destroyed Cronaal's capital city or even the new war in Cronaal's city of Karandin that had ravaged all forms of media for weeks.

"Greetings Prime Minister Alfred Nursson and your fellow company, hopefully your entire parliament," Carlos spoke with little tone, intending to show the hate later like before.
"I, King Carlos Rogeuze III of Añola, wish to give you a proposition to settle your recent hostilities over the meteorite that landed nearby Puerto Vitora last week and the actions taken by my agency." Carlos explained as a soldier, dressed in metallic armour from hundreds of years ago, threw a young woman onto the ground nearby Carlos' feet, her face still covered. Carlos' showed visible anger at the guard's actions towards the woman.
"We've gathered all Syrixian residence of Añola's capital city, Paubloro, and they're to be held hostage within my own palace until you... Cough up some money." He spoke with a mildly sarcastic tone, still meaning every word he spoke.
"Failiure to pay our 1.2million bounty shall result in their deaths. One. By. One. And we shell send their executions to you via. digital media." He spoke, smiling like Dolores Umbridge from the Hillary Potter movies that were growing in popularity across the region.
 
The old man was angry. And no one had ever seen him angry. This was blatantly evil blackmail and Syrixia would not have it. Alfred was that anger, the anger of all 76 million Syrixians, the anger of the Syrixian people living abroad, the anger of Syrixians unborn, alive, and dead, manifested into a person; and everyone in Parliament knew it, mainly because they agreed with him. Syrixia itself was up in arms. Nursson sat down in his study and prepared to broadcast a message to the world. It was time everyone knew about this, about the atrocities Añola and its corrupt, fascist regime were committing.

"Hello, everyone." Nursson calmly said. "I am Alfred Nursson, Prime Minister of Syrixia. In these dark times, what with tensions between the Red and Blue Blocs and now the war in Cronaal, it is regrettable this may happen, but happen it did. It began with the government of Añola murdering a news team that seeked to report on the meteor that crashed near Puerto Vitora. Since this was very clearly a violent murder, soon after coupled with the rude Añolan refusal to show the meteor to the international community for scientific purposes, my country took it upon itself to denounce Añola and its actions. In response, they took every single ethnic Syrixian living in the Añolan capital of Paubloro hostage. But I'll let the Añolan King's message to Syrixia speak for itself." The message then turned away to King Carlos.

"Greetings, Prime Minister Alfred Nursson and your fellow company, hopefully your entire parliament." Carlos spoke with little tone, intending to show hate. "I, King Carlos Rogeuze III of Añola, wish to give you a proposition to settle your recent hostilities over the meteorite that landed nearby Puerto Vitora last week and the actions taken by my agency." Carlos explained as a soldier, dressed in metallic armor from hundreds of years ago, threw a young woman onto the ground nearby Carlos' feet, her face still covered. Carlos' showed visible anger at the guard's actions towards the woman. "We've gathered all ethnic Syrixian residents of Añola's capital city, Paubloro, and they're to be held hostage within my own palace until you...cough up some money."

He spoke with a mildly sarcastic tone, still meaning every word he spoke. "Failure to pay our 1.2 million bounty shall result in their deaths. One. By. One." He smiled as he finished speaking, and Nursson once more was on the screen. "Thus, after deliberation and the eventual decision of Parliament, I, on behalf of the Most Serene Republic of Syrixia, hereby condemn the Kingdom of Añola, and deliver to it the following request. Añola will enter negotiations with Syrixia for the release of the hostages. Failure to comply with this request within two days will result in us having to send a rescue operation to Añola ourselves."
 
"Emperator, the Añolans have taken Syrixians hostage."
"Tell the AFI agents to help the hostages."
"Help the Syrixians, sir?"
"Nothing justifies the actions of Añola. Just because we've been fighting Syrixia does not mean that innocents should die. And Syrixia will owe us if we can help them out here."
"Very well, sir."
 
*Zertan I. and Alfred Nursson in a secret call.

Zertan: Hello my friend. I am shocked by what happened to the Syrixians in Añola, that should not be tolerated. Therefore I would to offer you our help. We have very good taskforce squads, that could help bring back your Syrixians, that are held hostage.
 
Alfred listened to the Seblandish King's request. "Thank you very much, your Majesty. We would be delighted to receive help against Añola in rescuibg our people."

After a brief continuing conversation, he then turned off his SyrNet commlink's link to True Sebland and called Añola. A government agent picked up the phone. Alfred said calmly, "Tell your King it's been more than three days."
 
((I doubt Carl Carl would have negotiated anyway. And if he did, he could "emergency contact" Syrixia or something. We tend to be merciful.))
 
The camera's light flickered and it began to record. A young man, who seemed quite Añolan through his hair and skin colour but Syrixian through his facial features and voice, was thrown onto the floor with his hands and legs tied together with a rough, scratchy rope that was similar to that used in gallows several hundreds of years ago. His hair was the darkest of browns, a mud colour that was almost black, and was curly, hundreds of tiny, small curls, and his eyes were a shining, distinct blue that would dazzle a person if he weren't in such a situation. The bridge of his nose bumped up a little and his lips were rosy red, besides this, he also had slight stubble, that was the same shade as his scalp-hair, and thick eyebrows. Moving from his face, he'd been stripped of his upper-body clothing and had visible lashes, cuts and bruises on both his chest and back as he squirmed and struggled around the dank, cobbled floor that was covered in small patches of soft, filthy moss. His trousers were essentially rags which were filled with moth-eaten holes and covered in dirt and blood, it was also clear he had no underwear beneath and visible he had no footwear.

An unknown person in a steel suit of armour stepped into the camera's view and proceeded to pick the man up with his hair. He clenched his fist round the strands of hair with force and yanked the man into the air, onto his feet with little regard for his pain or the small amounts of blood that had leaked onto his hand from pulling at the scalp so hard. He then shoved the man into a rough, red-brick wall in order to keep him standing, the camera following the movements, and give him something to lean on for the coming actions. The armoured man pulled out a small, decorative knife from seemingly nowhere and began to thrust it into the man's thigh, blood poured out of the wound whilst the armoured man stood back for a moment and looked at his work of art, the art of torture. The armoured man then grabbed the man's hair and forcefully threw the man onto the cobbled ground, skull first. His screams consumed the rooms, as he died, and warned the other captives that this was their fate, to be murdered in cold, emotionless blood. Carlos then entered, in a horrified shock.

"What the fuck is this!" He shouted at the armoured man, his tone relayed pure fury and disdain.
"You gullible piece of shit, I didn't want to hurt these worthless shits. It was to scare the fucking foreigns!" He screamed at the man, slowly getting angrier as he began to unsheathe his sword - a small rapier. His face was beginning to go red with hate and his eyes were shifting from brown to green whilst the man who was recording quickly ran off whilst shutting the camera down. One could hear Carlos cry out a little at the silent, armoured man as the cameraman ran. None of these events stopped the video from being sent to Syrixia.
 
"Sir, a video from Añola has arrived." said Minister Atlas to the Prime Minister, bearing a flash drive with the video inside. Pulling up an X-Net monitor, Nursson watched in horror. "This is your fate!" the murdered captive said. "You will be murdered like I have, in cold, emotionless blood!" Nursson looked up at Atlas with a face of both horror and anger. "Send in the CIT. This heartless atrocity will not stand." he said. And it was done. Within a day, CIT agents had been dispersed all over major Añolan cities, doing major damage to Añolan networks and evading the authorities. What primitive Internet Añola did have was destroyed by CIT-perpetrated DDOS attacks. CIT Distance Team agents hacked into Añolan machines and shut them down. Meanwhile, Field Team agents in Paubloro were preparing to infiltrate Carlos' palace.
 
One AFI agent snagged a job at a power plant. The Emperator had given permission for minimal civilian death, meaning that AFI agents could kill civilians who were in the way, and within hours plans were hatched to bomb the plant.
 
In the Xentheridan House of Representatives, votes were being tallied up from a poll involving Xentherida's nuclear program; a clear, strong "Yea" majority was clearly present, and the proposal was sent up to the Senate. However, on this crisp, clear morning, there were more pressing matters to be resolved.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Christopher Williams, spoke up. "Concerning the Añola situation. Last night we intercepted a video showing the execution of a Syrixian. This is an urgent issue; innocent lives are at stake here, and to add to that, Syrixia is an ally of ours through the Helmebaine Alliance. It is clear we need to save the hostages from this horrible situation."

The Minister of Defence, Michael Blackwoods, piped up. "I propose a dead-of-night raid by the Section Alpha of the XSF. This is just an overview of the situation; I have all of the details in this file here."

The files were shown to the MPs present. A twenty-man team, using M4A1s modified to shoot ball ammo - to pierce armour worn by the guards - were to evacuate hostages through a tunnel drilled earlier on through the dungeon where the hostages were kept; made either under the guise of renovations, or quietly, manually dug through the night by bribed Añolan miners. They would then be lead to a checkpoint half a mile away, where they would be picked up by two CH-47 Chinook helicopters, then flown to a McMasterdonian airport, where they would eventually travel to Syrixia.

A quick vote was held; each MP pressed one of the three buttons on their armrest; Yea, Nay, or Abstain. Within a minute, all votes had been tallied, and an almost unanimous decision of "Yea", and the motion was passed onto the Senate. By the next hour, it had already gained approval, and was underway.

Twenty experienced Section Alpha members - trained especially in hostage rescue missions - were already training in a mock arena that mirrored the dungeon of the castle. Using new "concussion bullets" - balls of chemicals that, once the skin of the bullet was penetrated, released a cocktail of knock-out chemicals that seeped into the bloodstream via pores in the skin. Anyone hit with such a "bullet" would face unconsciousness within the minute for up to two hours. This exercise was repeated dozens of times, until each SA member had the routine drilled into their heads.

In the mean time, a message was sent to Syrixia informing them of the situation. The raid was to take place as soon as possible, and all preparations had been made. Two Chinooks were already on their way to the situation, shipped by a Landing Platform Helicopter Ship, although even more were brought in for backup, and to support the team while they were escaping. The team were prepped with their matte-black body armour, covering them from head to toe, night-vision goggles, and variety of weapons: the modified, silenced M4A1, silenced Glock 17 and concussion gun, along with three stun, regular and smoke grenades, a first-aid kit, water bottle, and finally a steel knife to remove any potential bindings.
 
The dozen most experienced AFI agents had begun loitering in the capital of Añola. Messages had been sent to the Syrixian government informing them of Nebula's willingness to help.
 
The Syrixian government sent a message to Nebula and Xentherida inviting them to an X-Net conversation on the rescue mission. To be discussed was the CIT operation in Paubloro, the strike teams, and the AFI and CIT agents dispersed throughout Añola.
 
The Xentheridan graciously accepts the offer of a talk to organise the upcoming raid. Once Nebula also agrees, then the call will commence. However, this X-Net talk will be broadcast to the Xentheridan Parliament, with the King also present.

In the mean time, Xentheridan agents were being deployed into Añola. They were to visit the castle, and sneak in, and register the times of guard changes, the layout of the castle, and various other important details. They also planted bugs and tiny cameras around the area.

The agents were to carve away tiny holes in the floor and walls, and plant the camouflaged bugs in these tiny niches. These would be extremely difficult to detect, causing the smallest blemish possible; only a trained eye in spotting bugs could detect them. And in Añola, a nation lagging behind in the terms of technology, this would mean that their disguise was reinforced even more by this factor.
 
We agree to a call.

AFI agents were casing the palace. Disguised weapons had been brought along by the agents, and these were now carried discreetly as the agents monitored the outside carefully, seeking a breach in security.
 
"I am glad that we are all here, and I thank both Xentherida and Nebula for their cooperation." said the Prime Minister. "As you know, the Monarquía of Añola is now using ethnic Syrixians in their nation as hostages against us. This will not stand with my government, and I thank you once more for your agreement. The King of Añola's acts are blatantly evil beyond comprehension." The Minister of Defense stood at this time.

Minister Vist was one of many Ministers on the X-Net call; as the entire Parliament was present. "We've formulated the foundations of a plan we can use to go off of in forming the final plan of action." he said as he picked up a small paper from behind him. He looked at the paper briefly, in order to get everything in his head, and then looked up and spoke, with the paper still in his hand. "As you know, AFI and CIT agents are now all around the Palace."

He paused briefly, then continued. "Syrixia suggests an elaborate, coordinated effort rather than a simple one."

[video]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XAYhNHhxN0A[/video]​
"The AFI and CIT agents will attempt to infiltrate the Palace. The AFI will kill any of the King's henchmen who tries to stop us, in a discreet way, and dispose of the body discreetly as well. The CIT, meanwhile, will go in for the kill. They'll rescue the hostages by whatever means necessary, preferably covert, discreet methods. If the King does wind up finding out or something of the sort happens, which includes a mission failure, then we send in the strike teams."

"Oh, and should we find the Throne Room, stop at the door. The King will probably be in there."
 
"Sounds good." replied Adam. "Although my only problem is that you'll need a safe way to evacuate the hostages; I doubt they'll be up to running through the Añolan wilderness."

Michael Blackwoods interjected, "We've got some Chinooks in the area which we were going to use for our own separate raid, which we can lend to you. We can also spare some troops to help you escape; once you're out in the open, you'll need cover."

Christian III spoke up. "We also managed to get a tunnel dug straight into the dungeon, which you can use to get the hostages out of there."

"Finally, we can give you some intel into the castle and what you're up against." Michael added. "Our spies managed to plant dozens of bugs all around the area, collecting data. We can send you both files of the intel."
 
"Our agents are well equipped and well trained. They should be able to get to the throne room without much difficulty."
 
"That's good and all," said Michael. "but since this will be stealth, you'll need to know the layout. The guards change regularly, but if you dispose of them, there are several small niches where you can hide the bodies. Broom cupboards, behind large objects, stuff of the sort. Also, the guards wear medieval armour, made of metal, making it difficult for bullets to penetrate them. However, "full metal jacket ammo" - more commonly referred to as "ball ammo" - can get the job done easily."

After a brief silence, Adam piped up, "Syrixia, we'd like to hear your thoughts on whether you would need some help from us; the Chinooks for transport and evacuating the hostages, and some of our Section Alpha team members to help you escape; there are roughly 80 hostages according to our intelligence, and once you're out in the open you'll need help getting them out safely; our team is trained in hostage rescue, getting people out of dangerous situations, etcetera. Also, as I previously mentioned, we have a tunnel going in and out, if you need to use it. However, while it makes a shorter journey to go in and out of the castle, it'd still be better for the AFI agents to go through and secure the rest of the castle, and visit the throne room; make sure Carlos isn't there. Finally, we'll need to get some form of transport to get them back to Syrixia; a chartered plane would be needed, and we're further away than you, which is why we would need you to organise such a thing."
 
"We can have a disguised helicopter in the area for evac, and I assure you that the weaponry of the agents is capable of handling a few guards at a time, no matter their armor."
 
Nebula:
"We can have a disguised helicopter in the area for evac, and I assure you that the weaponry of the agents is capable of handling a few guards at a time, no matter their armor."
Click to expand...
"Agreed." Nursson chimed in. "We could also ask McMasterdonia if they'd be willing for Syrixia to land a plane in one of its airports for the operation. Syrixia has friendly relations and embassies with them."
 
The King's Guard, the one who'd previously hurt the man in the prisons, and Carlos stood in the throne room, Carlos had taken the guard there after he'd been caught torturing the Syrixian Añolan. The limestone wall to the right of the Throne was splattered with wet, crimson blood that had been caused by a wound, the wound created by a sword's thrust; the blood itself belonged to Carlos, the King himself had been slashed by his own Guard whom disagreed with Carlos' compassion and mercy shown towards the captives. Carlos sat in the back corner of his T-shaped Throne Room with his clothes drenched in his own blood and his face sliced up, so much that one could barely recognize that he was the last member of the Royal Family of Añola, and he eyes were swelling from the tears caused by the overwhelming pain that rushed over his body in constant waves that refused to stop. His attacker, his own royal guard, stood over Carlos like a stature with his steel sword in one hand and his ceremonial helm covering his face to hide his identity whilst his other arm was forced forward, thrusting another sword into Carlos' thigh.

"AAAAaaarrrghh~" Carlos screamed for the hundredth time, the guard wishes his pain to last long.
"You are weak. You are pathetic." The guard simply replied whilst standing stone still as he pushed his arm a little further into Carlos' exposed, bleeding flesh. He seemed to be getting vicious amounts of pleasure from torturing the King, his royal leader and the man who'd he was sworn to protect with his life as if he were a sadistic monster, that was not that far from the truth.
"You're a useless monarch, you give mercy to the backwater scum of this nation. You deserve a death sentence but I wish for you to suffer." The guard smiled beneath his helm, his crooked teeth could have been visible between his lips if his mouth were not covered.
"You see the chains on the ceiling? You're going into them, I'm going to hang your pathetic bleeding body from them and watch you cry helpless tears as your wounds expand from the gravity pulling you down. Maybe I'll fire an occasional arrow at your spine when you quiet down." He maniacally told Carlos.

Carlos was hung by his arms from the ceiling of his throne room, the guard doing exactly what he explained.
 
"Alrighty then." started Christian. "Here's a plan I came up with, combining our respective ideas."

"The CIT and AFI agents will enter the castle via the tunnel dug into the dungeon, with the Section Alpha members keeping watch outside. The AFI agents will scour the castle for guards, discreetly disposing of them and hide their bodies. They are to secure the castle and search the throne room for Carlos to potentially apprehend him. Whether he'll be in there at the time, we don't know, as our own spies were unable to get into the throne room to place bugs. The CIT agents will be evacuating the hostages onto two Chinooks - or other helicopters - and then helping the AFI agents secure the castle. Once that's done, a signal will be sent to each soldier's earpiece to evacuate to another Chinook, and then the group will be flown to a McMasterdonian airport while being escorted by half a dozen attack choppers, where the hostages will be put onto a plane to return to Syrixia. Some of our agents will be present on the plane to make sure everything goes smoothly. The vehicles will eventually land back on the Xentheridan Landing Platform Helicopter Ship north of Añola, where they will be refuelled and shipped back to their respective nations."

Christian concluded. "That's my idea. Thoughts?"
 
"Sounds good." said the Prime Minister. "Excuse me for a moment while we do a quick vote."

Nursson turned to the Parliament. "Please enter your votes into your X-Voters." he said to the 500 Ministers, who promptly did. When the results came in through the X-Net a minute later, the result was 94% For, 2% Against and 4% Abstain.

"The motion passes." said the Prime Minister, turning again to the Xentheridans and Nebulans. "Syrixia stands behind your plan."
 
"That's great." Adam replied. "We only need Nebula's approval, and then we can get underway. By the way, we were planning for a separate raid, but it was halted due to the coalition, although everything is still in place. We have our Landing Platform Helicopter Ship only forty kilometres north-east of the Añolan mainland. We can quickly deliver our Chinooks and disperse our Section Alpha troops within fifteen minutes. All we need now is a rendezvous point for the troops, and a time to put the plan into action; the latter of which I recommend either midnight or early morning tomorrow. It's still morning here, so it should give us time to get the smaller details planned, seeing as the troops and vehicles are already there."

While he spoke, the vote for the plan was being held in the chamber between the 700 MPs present, and it too had a massive majority of "Aye": 97.4%, with 1.2% for "Nay" and the remaining 1.4% abstaining.
 
"Let's get started."

The Nebulan agents had already gathered in a park near the palace. Most of the agents were in a group, talking quietly. One was standing apart, talking into a headset. Finally he turned and looked back at the others, who went silent immediately.
"We're on.'
 
((Mission Impossible music begins playing))

The CIT agents were given the OK. They began infiltrating the palace, making their way through the dark corridors to the throne room. The palace was large, but for some reason it was only torch-lit. As the AFI picked off any guards they came upon before they could alert the authorities, just like the plan detailed, the CIT agents made their way practically unopposed to the throne room door. Making sure the door was closed, they picked off the guards there, and waited for the AFI agents to catch up. The strikeforces, helicopters, and chinooks for the hostages were en route. Everything was falling into place. Once the AFI agents arrived, all they had to do was enter. It would be them against King Carlos...right?
 
The AFI split into groups. In small teams of three, a group of people with no obvious weapons were not suspicious enough to merit immediate armed action from the guards, and the agents were capable of handling the guards using a variety of unique weapons, including a high-powered, silenced rifle disguised as an umbrella, a poison dart gun concealed inside a crutch, a pair of credit cards with a razor edge made of tungsten around the rim, a purse filled with steel shot, a briefcase that fired taser darts, a bracelet made of det cord that also served well for strangulation, and a motorized wheelchair concealing a small machine gun and a grenade launcher.
Within minutes the castle was secure, and the AFI met their companions back at the throne room entrance.
 
While this was happening, the two Chinooks - carrying the twenty Section Alpha members - was inbound to Añola. They were to stand guard outside the castle and around the Chinook, although a pre-selected six were to enter the castle via the tunnel and assist in unbinding and evacuating the hostages.

OOC: Syrixia, since Cronaal made his post about the throne room drama, you can make your post about entering the throne room.
 
"The door's locked," reported one agent.
"Step back from the doors," said the leader, pushing the wheelchair into position. The wheelchair's occupant pushed a button, and a grenade launcher rose out of the hefty armrest. As the others quickly got behind the wheelchair, the agent fired, blasting the lock into tiny pieces and forcing the doors open. The agents drew their collective weapons and ran forward---
---and stopped dead when they saw what was going on inside.
The leader hastily aimed his umbrella rifle. "Halt!"
 
The CIT agents entered the throne room. There he was, dead on the floor, King Carlos Rogeuze III of Añola, killed by one of his own guards.

"We are here for the hostages." the leader of the CIT agents said. "You will help us free them, or we will shoot you down."
 
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