A Thousand Wishes

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Note: All translations spoilered at the bottom.

June 2nd, 2017

'Sir, phone call for you. It’s some people who say they can help us with that traitor problem'.

Samuel took a long drag on his cigarette. Chief Clerk Rakatov had asked for his help in finding that renegade. Probably a waste of time, or some plot to lure them out. Nevertheless, it was worth hearing them out.

He took the phone and answered. 'This is Samuel Petrov speaking. Who is this?'

A cold voice answered him. 'Ah, hello Samuel.' the voice said in perfect Cogorian, yet with the Xentheridan accent somewhat accent noticeable. 'We have heard of your issue with a certain whistleblower. We feel we can help with your little problem, and we have some very valuable intelligence regarding where they will next appear.'


June 25th, 2017

Everything was ready. The duffel bags were prepped and full. The sixteen - eight males, eight females - clad in their tracksuits, shuffled about nervously. They knew the plan. Dmitri nodded. 'For the motherland.' he said.

They clambered into the minivan, and set off for their destination. Some used the journey to anxiously check their bags to see everything was working. A brief, five minute reprieve, before they arrived. Before they began their task.

It wasn’t long before they arrived. After climbing off the minivan, they walked beneath the gigantic golden letters that wrote out the name 'A Thousand Wishes'. 800 years this hotel had been standing in the heart of Seta, Yukkira. But they had only one wish. To get their whistleblower before they leaked any secrets.

One man, loitering just within the hotel, spoke quietly into his wrist. 'De har kommit fram. Kommer följa.' he murmured in Xentheridan, nobody noticing his subtle movements.

The sixteen walked through the hotel doors, and through the metal detectors at the entrance. No beeps emanated from it; they had been careful in their preparations not to have any metal on them. Just as long as the bags weren’t checked. At least there had been no bag scanners.

But just as they began to lug their bags upstairs, a bellhop appeared at their side.

He was not allowed to know. He could not be allowed to bust their operation.

'Vi kan ha problem.' whispered the man into his wrist.

'May I check your bags, please?'

That dreaded phrase.

It took Dmitri aback for a second. 'May I check your bags?' the bellhop said, more insistently this time.

De kommer att förstöra hela denna uppdrag.' the man breathed.

Dmitri saw no other way out.

He reached deep into his bag, grasping the cool metal handle, before quickly pulling out the pistol and pointing directly into the chest of the bellhop.

There was a brief moment where time seemed to stand still; the bellhop had grabbed his wrist, about to shout some objection. Dmitri pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The bang reverberated about the marble walls of the lobby, echoing deeply through the halls. The bullet flew straight from the chamber and into the bellhop’s sternum, flying through with a bloody thwack.

A chorus of screams arose, and the Xentheridan man yelled 'DOWN, DOWN, GET DOWN' just as Dmitri fired again. With a swift movement, the other fifteen reached into their bags revealing automatic weapons, as the hotel guests threw themselves to the floor.

The yell of 'STAY DOWN' was barely heard over the sudden cacophony of sound as the sixteen fired wildly towards the security guards, who, having been caught off guard, found themselves riddled with bullets, and collapsing to the floor in a heap.

The sixteen turned their attention now to the receptionists, who had attempted to dial the emergency numbers on their phone, and they too were shot dead in a hailstorm of bullets, wood splintering from the bullets that tore through the desks. Two guests attempted to run to safety through the front doors, but were cut down by more automatic fire, as the glass in front of them shattered from wayward shots.

Four of the shooters ran out into the corridor and into the security room. They forced the personnel within out and into the main lobby with the other hostages, and then began to fire at the servers. Room service telephone lines, live security camera feed, computer data, all went up in smoke.

A silence descended upon the hotel as the bangs of gunfire subsided, and the hostages lay cowering on the floor. Upon Dimitri’s command, the huge, heavy oaken doors upon the entrance were force shut. The siege had begun.

Their preparation time was limited. Hostages were gathered from the numerous rooms in the hotel and forced to sit in the lobby, and their phones and passports taken.

'It was very brave, what you did there.' one hostage whispered to the Xentheridan man. 'What’s your name?'

'Lucas' he responded, his Yukkiran thankfully fluent. He kept his eyes focused on the gunmen as they unloaded explosive shells from one of their bags. 'And it was nothing.'

'You saved many lives. Are you a policeman or…?'

'Tourist. Just a tourist.'

A faint burst of static buzzed in Lucas’ ear. 'Sitrep, over?' came the voice.

'All sixteen of the Children of the Crown are here. Six or seven civs killed, eight wounded, but none are our target. They started the siege too early. We’ve not had time to locate the target. He’s not among the hostages. He could be in a disguise, and anywhere in the hotel. The Children didn’t get past security: their bags were already in the lobby but they tried to stop them from being searched. That blew their cover and triggered the siege. Over'

'Copied. Keep watch for the target. Sit tight and wait for an opportunity to arise. Out."

A final sputter of static hissed in his ear just as a bag was shoved in his face. They wanted his phone and passport. One arm held aloft, he relinquished both, placing them gently into the bag. The passport was faked, however; nobody could know their true intentions or identities, not even the Children of the Crown.


Meanwhile, the Children had begun booby-trapping the entrance. A tripwire was first placed just next to the door which would break if the breaching forces so much as kicked the doors; then, a necklace of IEDs was strewn about the entrance, rigged up to a car battery, guaranteed to obliterate any attackers who dared assault the hotel.

Dmitri turned on a two-way radio retrieved from the bag as the dead bodies were dragged into a corner, smearing blood over the marble floors. Repeating himself over many frequencies, hoping the Yukkirans would hear him, he spoke. 'This is the Children of the Crown. We have boobytrapped the entrance so you cannot breach. We wish to negotiate.'

In a recent publication of Santé et Hôpitaux Hebdo, Dr. Milo Moitessier was ranked the 12th “most skilled” surgeon in the Lancerian Empire, the best in the province of Saxe. As of that issue’s publishing date, it had also been 12 years since the good doctor had a proper vacation. Hospital management politely insisted it was time he took one.

And so the doctor rather reluctantly found himself on a plane to Yukkira bound for the Thousand Wish Hotel, passing the time in a copy of the Pageau Journal of Surgery, arriving at the airport, hailing a cab, and passing the time in a copy of the Pageau Journal of Surgey once more.

He did not notice the van pull into the space that his taxi had dropped him off a minute earlier, nor did he notice the group of people enter the hotel behind him. As he walked away from reception with his room key, however, he very much noticed the gun fire that erupted in the lobby.

It was not long before Dr. Moitessier, less his phone and passport, was gathered to one side as a hostage.

"Lovely." he thought to himself. From a distance, he eyed the wounded hotel guests.

Police Training Grounds, Seta...

A rush of wind flows past my face as synthetic string flies past, just barely missing my face. A surge of energy ripples through my body as it cumulates within the apex of my extended left-hand, into my bow, into its string now pulled taunt by the pullies on either end. Time slows, as if the very fabric of reality had become like water, as the energy launches my arrow forward, towards the wooden target sitting about forty meters away. As my right-hand finishes the movement with a flourish, the arrow impales itself with a solid-sounding "smack!" against the wooden surface. "Ah," I remark to no one in particular, as the range was vacant at this time of the morning, "just a few centimeters off to the left." Notching another arrow into place, I can't help but begin to think about an old friend who used to join me. He would've said, "Try again ol' friend. You'll find your mark this time." Ol' Iron Sights as we used to call him. The man was a remarkable shooter. A talented individual, the man was practically born to shoot. Granted, the kid didn't have a lick of sense when I first met him. But, like all the others who join the IYG, sense gets beaten into you, and those who fall by the wayside are gathered up, thrown through the grinder, and are molded into Retainers fit to serve the Golden Throne.

As I begin to aim down my bow again, a corporal, who was supposed to be on duty, comes running up to me. "Lord-Arbiter sir!" He announces, panting and out of breath. Damn it corporal, I think slightly annoyed, granted, there is no door, but at the very least, wait for me to finish. As I glance at him with a glare that he rightfully took to mean, "silence," I manage to slot another arrow into the target before addressing the man.

"What is it corporal?" I begin to say while going off to retrieve my arrows, "Where is your Lord-Captain?"

Walking with me, he responds, "He's currently addressing the situation."

Scratching the back of my head, I have to ask, "What situation? It couldn't wait until I was back at Headquarters?"

The corporal holds out a data-slate towards me as we get to the target, "You need to see it for yourself sir."

Looking at it suspiciously, I decide to first recover my arrows before grabbing the data-slate.

"This just in: a hostage situation at the hotel-inn of A Thousand Wishes. Witnesses say that multiple armed men opened fire in the hotel lobby, shooting and injuring multiple bystanders. The military police are currently on-site and are securing the area. We will update you more as the story progresses...

... Damn, and I thought retiring into the Military Police would be an easy cruise to retirement. To think I'd need to don the uniform again... I think to myself. "Orders sir?" says the corporal anxiously. "Tell Lord-Captain Kai he has command. Telling him the situation is Red. I will be on-scene momentarily. Thank you corporal." The corporal nods once, knowing that it was better not to question my words, and begins to briskly walk away. However, just before he's out of earshot, I call out to him. He turns around, looking like a dog waiting for his master to reprimand him. Instead, I say, "You were right to come to me with this in person. Next time though, keep in mind that patience is a virtue. Doing so will allow you to become a well-respected officer." The corporal acknowledges with a salute and a "sir yes sir!" before walking away.

After ensuring that I was alone, with the nearby woods and and target bales the only things for company, I pull my phone out from a pocket in my kimono. Dialing in a number, and speaking a few brisk words, a familiar old voice greets me from the other end,

"Ol' Man... it's been a while," says the Red Brigade dispatcher.

"Jon, have you seen the news yet?" I say cutting to the chase.

"Yes. It's a shame. Will you be able to handle it?" Says Jon.

I shake my head slightly, "No Jon... I need you to reactivate me." I say beginning to walk down the trail to my car.

Jon chokes on the other side of the line. "Ol' Man... there's a reason why you're called the Ol' Man. You do realize I'm the Ol' Man now right?"

"Jon... I don't know what else to tell you. But right now, all of hell is knocking on my front door and I damn well won't risk regular MPs to answer it!" I say just slightly aspirated.

Jon pauses for a moment, "You know if I do, the Mistress will know you're back right? From the dead?" Jon says using the nickname for retirement.

"The Mistress will understand. Now reactivate me so I can get to the armory and attach two squads for me. Tell them to kit up. Damn it Jon! Help me do my job." I say while getting into my car.

Jon sighs resigningly. "Fine... I'll do it. Welcome back to the Red Brigade, Lord-Arbiter Tokaku Yoh."

"It's great to be back," I respond sarcastically, "Let's make it a good one Jon."

"No Lord-Arbiter, let's make this a short one," he says in return. "By the way, you should know that the hostage takers are international terrorists known as the Children of the Crown. They have asked to negotiate."

"Well Jon? What do you think is the appropriate response?" I say with some of my old snappiness coming back to me.

Jon chuckles for a moment, "I'll tell them to get into the bloody queue."

Master Headhunter Hans "Kironokami" Jennings was alerted to the ongoing situation at the hotel, and immediately sped there in his undercover red brigade car. He was armed with a NAC 15, just like back home, and was strapped with ammo as well. Should anything go sour, there would be intense violence. However, the commanders ordered to begin negotiations first so he would do that.

Arriving at the front of the hotel, there were other brigadiers there as well. He got out of his car, and walked up to the barricade they had set up. Grabbing a megaphone, he began speaking.

"This is Kironokami of the Red Brigade. List your demands and we will consider them."

'It'll be just a moment, I think I see it on the top shelf' came a flustered voice over the sounds of someone rustling through crates in an adjoining room. 'That's fine, no big rush, just perusing your wares.' Aldrich had been looking at the various drones and other intelligence gathering equipment kept in the back workshop, only for the special clients, when something caught his eye. Sitting down at the man's workstation to take a closer look at the unusual looking device half pulled apart... or maybe half assembled. 'The persuader' the man replied as he finally came out of the back room with a medium size hard case and placed it on one of the tables. 'At least that's what I think I'll call the thing,' with that he flicked open the case.

'Sounds like something I'd be interested in buying, add that to the list of things to show me when you get it finished.' With that, he headed over to the table and could see the usual care was taken with the merchandise. Each item perfectly fitted into a foam indentation inside the case. 'John you never do disappoint, how do...' Midway through his sentence he was interrupted by an emergency message regarding hotel-inn of A Thousand Wishes. '...ah, hell.'

'Johnny boy, it looks like there's a problem I have to attend to right away, I trust these replacements will work as well as the last batch. I'll let you know how they perform soon enough.' As John quickly repacked the items and handed over the case he remembered one last thing 'I dropped in an extra little toy I'd like you to try out, it's in the bottom of the case, let me know how our 'friends' react.'

In just a few moments he'd made it outside to his car, and with a smirk on his face, Aldrich tossed the crate in the back seat and headed off to the hotel.

Aventure Automotive Group in Sil Dorsett was interested in expanding its manufacturing operations to Yukkira, and it dispatched Théo Beauvilliers, Chief Operating Officer, to Yukkira to meet with local officials to develop a plan to construct new factories. The goal was not only to expand the global reach of Aventure and its parent principality, but to bring forth new job opportunities and strengthen economic ties between the two nations. The deal was now at risk thanks to the Children of the Crown.

Théo was still checking in when the siege began. As the first shot was fired, he froze, startled by the loud crack of the bullet going off, but he quickly dropped to the ground as Lucas shouted "DOWN," laying flat on the floor and covering his head with his hands, as if he thought it would provide any protection. All he could do was wait for the shooting to end... or to die.

He didn't die. It wasn't long before he was rounded up with the others and stripped of his gear. "This is why intelligent people don't leave home," he arrogantly thought to himself, his closed minded isolationist views coming to the forefront. His first trip overseas was proving to be a less than desired first impression.

Haruhiro "Harry" Takagi had been enjoying boshi in the lobby of A Thousand Wishes, making casual conversation with a stunning woman he had met earlier in the day, the first day of his vacation. And a well-earned vacation at that! Takagi was a rising star at Multi-Service International, having put in five years of hard work to climb the corporate ladder. Sure, he had to step on a co-worker or two, but he did what he had to do.

Only for his well-earned respite to be be shattered by the sound of a bullet. The bellhop had already hit the ground by the time Harry knew what was happening. Before he knew it? He was on his knees with his hands up as armed men confiscated his phone.

Of course he made small talk with Kanae, the woman he had met, but he fumed. He never had a chance to stop an of this! He knew he could have done something if he just had time. Finally? He had enough. He knew exactly what he had to do. He took a deep breath and loosened his tie, just a bit.

"I really hope they bring us some water..." Kanae said softly, only to be cut off as Harry held up his hand.
He slowly rose to his feet and made his way over to one of the men holding them hostage.

"Hey" he said in near-perfect Mercanti, "I hope I'm not interrupting" he said with a sly smile backed up by endless confidence.
"but I think I can get you boys whatever it is you want."

Dmitri sighed with relief. There had been an answer to their demands: the Yukkirans had been wise enough to listen to their demands.

‘Afternoon, mister Kironokami. I am Dmitri McNeil, of the Children of the Crown. These are our demands.’

‘Firstly, all of us part of the Children wish for complete legal immunity in Yukkira. We also wish for free and safe passage from Yukkira to Cogoria. This passage is to be provided by a specially chartered and unmodified private jet. Our safety is not to be compromised is any way at all, nor are we to be arrested and prosecuted by the nation of Yukkira for our actions.’

'Secondly, we demand that all of our fellow communists imprisoned in any prison in Yukkira are to be released, and granted the same legal immunity and guarantee of free and safe passage to Cogoria.'

Dmitri took a deep breath, waiting a moment to issue his final demand.

‘Finally, we demand the unbanning of the political group known as the Remnant.’

And with that, he cut broadcasting.


As Dmitri stood there, surveying his hostages, one suddenly stood up and walked towards him. 'Hey' the man said in near-perfect Mercanti. 'I hope I’m not interrupting, but I think I can get you boys whatever it is you want.'

Dmitri thought for a moment, and then cracked a smile even slyer than the man’s. 'Yes.' Dmitri replied. 'You can.'

Seizing the man by the throat, Dmitri forced him to kneel on the floor, holding him in place, and drew his pistol with his spare hand, firing once into the air before placing the barrel to the man’s head. The cries of the hostages was silenced as Dmitri made his demands.

'We are looking for a man known as Doctor Vladislav Fitzsimons. He is of vital importance to us.'

'If the Doctor does not reveal himself in ten seconds, then this man will die.'

The cries began again, as they reached out and begged for mercy.

'Ten.'

More cries of pity.

'Nine.'

'Eight.'

The screams grew louder.

'Seven.'

'Six.'

A barrel of a gun was pointed at the remaining hostages, quickly silencing them.

'Five.’

‘Four.’

Some of the hostages huddled together, unable to face the blood that would soon be shed, as they wept together.

‘Three.’

‘Two.’

Utter silence.

‘One.’

Wawrzyniec Szydlowski, a Miedzymorzean ambassador to Yukkira was staying at the Hotel. He was eating dinner at the Hotel's 5-star restaurant, until the hotel bellboy called for him on the intercom. "Would a Mister Wawrzyniec Szydlowski please come to the front desk? Mister Wawrzyniec Szydlowski, you have a call for you at the front desk." Sigh. Must be my bosses checking up on me again, he thought to himself as we walked to the front desk.

He had approached the front desk to see the bellboy with the phone. "Are you the mister Wawr..." Bang. A gunshot rang through and shot the bellboy dead. Startled, Szydlowski jumped back and fell to the floor. He scrambled behind a potted plant to try and avoid any gunshots. Bang. Another gunshot rang. A masked man came from behind and pointed a gun at his head. "You are coming with me", the masked man said.

"What a great dinner", he thought to himself.

Gerhardt Köitel, a Ninhundish tourist had just returned from a pool party put on by other Ninhundish tourists. He was now on his way up to his room to get changed but he had this feeling that something about this night wasn’t normal. When he had gotten changed he began to head downstairs to meet a group of friends who had also gotten changed and headed straight for the pub. While taking the main elevators that would lead to the lobby and were closer to the pub, a gunshot was heard from downstairs. “HEILGE SCHEIT!”, he yelled. When the doors opened he saw an armed person standing a few metres. Standing there he fell to the ground to avoid anymore conflict.

Harry Takagi didn't even have time to react as he was forced down to his knees, the gun pressed against his head.

"Hatsim, come on!" he cried out, shaking.
"Come on guys! Think about what you're doing!" he protested in vain as the man counted down in Mercanti.

"I can get ya what you want, come on! I close three deals like this before breakfast! Come on guys, be smart!" he was screaming, pleading as the countdown reached "one"...

Théo couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Immunity? After all this?" he thought. "Bullshit." He had a feeling the attackers wanted to die, and that this attack was nothing more than an attempt to strike fear into the hearts of millions and to make the world question its own safety. The thought didn't leave him confident in his own survival.

"(Blah, blah, blah, blah...)" and then the attackers took one hostage aside and put a gun to their head. The situation had become even more desperate. "They weren't really gonna kill this guy, were they?"

"(Blah, blah, blah, blah...)...Vladislav Fitzsimons..." he heard, and suddenly the reason for his torment became clear. "Just find that guy and throw him to these wolves. Needs of the many, right?" Théo contemplated in his mind, as the terrorist started counting down from ten.

"'Ten, nine, eight...'"

"Are these guys serious?"

"'...three, two, one....'"

"They're bluffing, right?"

The cries, and pleas of mercy did little to deter Dmitri; he continued to hold the pistol to his victim’s head, ignoring the offers for “assistance”.

“One.”

BANG.

Harry’s lifeless corpse collapsed to the floor, as more screams rang out.

“This is how we get what we want.”


The shooting had done little to stop the remaining terrorists in the lobby, who had begun to rig the final aspects of the lobby. The IEDs scattered about the hotel entrance were complete, attached to the car battery, which would detonate should the tripwire at the doors be broken. The next stage for destruction was ready.

Another duffel bag - larger than the others - was brought to the centre of the room, and from it they took a drill, two metal hooks, and… where had they got a stepladder from?

A small hook was drilled into a pillar, then into the ceiling. Another terrorist fumbled in the bag, drawing out wiring and metal cable, until her hands rested on the cold, hard ceramic surface of an improvised artillery shell.

She nodded to the others as she held the shell upright, carefully, oh so carefully, attaching the detonator. Slowly, delicately, she raised the plastic cover off the trigger.

“Start lifting, slowly.”

With metal cable tied about the loop on the end of the shell, the shell was slowly, carefully hoisted through the air, the whine of metal cable being pulled through the ceiling hook grating through the lobby. It was lifted higher and higher, and soon out of the terrorist’s grip, and up into the heights of the lobby.

There was deep creaking of the wire stretching and straining, as the terrorist cut the excess cabling off. Letting the line go taut, it dropped down, settling suspended in the air with thud, hanging there; an omen of death just above their heads.


“Nora, you there, over?” Lucas whispered into his mic.

“I’m here. What’s happening, over?”

“They’ve executed a hostage, but the target’s not stepped forwards. He’s not in the lobby with the rest of the hostages here; he’s hiding elsewhere. And I need to get to him. Over.”

“Sit tight, Lucas. An opportunity should arise to escape and recover the target when the Red Brigade launch their assault, over.”

“They’ve rigged IEDs about the place, wired to a car battery. The Red Brigade attempt to breach, we’ll all be killed. I’ll need a distraction to disarm it. Keep me posted on the Brigade’s assault preparation. ”

Dmitri was growing impatient. Even killing a hostage hadn’t forced the Cogorian to reveal himself. He had to hope that his deal would be accepted, to delay the Brigade yet more.

“Mister Kirokonami, do you read?” he said into the radio. “This is Dmitri McNeil of the Children of the Crown again. I hope you have had ample time to think over our demands. What is the status on the deal?”

Kironokami got the receiver to the megaphone.

"I have given your demands to my superiors for consideration. Please hold off any violent action."

He turned off the megaphone, and alerted a subordinate to start prepping the teams for break-in.