A Battle Unseen

[Dredd]

Kaesama, April 14th 

Anton took a drag of his cigarette looking around the piles of rubble that were now inner Kasaema, he hadn't smoked before the fighting began but the peer pressure got to him, and it gave his nostrils relief from the overwhelming scents even if for a small time; The sickly sweet smell of burnt corpses, the copper scent of blood, and the stench of Sulphur that permeated the concrete, it seemed there was nowhere he could go that wasn't offensive. Anton closed his eyes and sat reflecting, he was only 17 years old, his emotions were conflicted, before the legion he felt purposeless, he joined the paramilitaries as soon as a branch had opened in his township and eager to fire a gun for the first time joined up. He had put on his balaclava and black uniform filled with a youthful pride he'd never experienced, he felt invincible marching lockstep down the streets of his village with crowds cheering and pretty young girls throwing flowers, but his parents never showed, nor many of his old compatriots. "Fascist, traitor, stupid young brat", he'd heard all the names, but he didn't care, to hold a cold rifle in his hand alongside his new brothers filled him with a sense of belonging he had lacked his whole life, he felt as if a missing puzzle piece had finally been set in place.

Now, after the battle of Kaesama, he had killed his first man, an older soldier surely but no more than his mid twenties. He'd been storming the defenses surrounding one of the governmental buildings, his ears still ringing from the cacophony of sounds in that brutal fight even days later, he remembered rushing forward with his comrades yelling as they clamored over the hastily erected barricades, he remembered the flamethrowers and screams, and the look of the pale blue eyes of a young soldier that met his own turning a hallway, but Anton had been faster. He never heard the shots, but he felt the hot casing hit his face as he held down the trigger until the man was on the floor spasming and screaming until his cries were silenced with a bullet between the eyes.

Anton opened his eyes in pain, the cigarette had burned down to the nub searing his fingers, flicking it into the dirt. More adrenaline pumping action had happened in the past week than all the years of school and his childhood, the legion was celebrating across the city and vowed to hang all the traitors they caught, but as much as he was patted on the back and congratulated, given a small medal for his bravery "Close combat clasp in bronze", Anton wondered if he'd made the right choice, his parents had basically disowned him as they fled south with the refugees, most of his friends had run too, and some had even died in the shelling. He shook his head, of course Sladek was right, the KPP had started this nonsense, we won the elections fair and square, we are the vanguard that would lead Kundrati into a destiny of glory and majesty, we would be the heroes future generations would sing songs about.

Right?

[TheNick]

Somewhere in Dunburg, December 5587

People at the Ministry are frenetic, the secret operation to deliver money and arms to the KPP was sabotaged at the last minute by Legionnaires forces, but the worst was avoided...in the chaos of the telephones' ring bells, a distinct voice can be heard talking to a man with a certain accent.

"How could this happen?!", said the voice, "I thought you and I controlled the entirety of the border!"

"Some of them must have intercepted our shared communications, and sabotaged the whole thing." - repled the man with an accent.

What happened, in a cold day of December, in the Hallowtide week, is that Dundorfian-delivered help, both financial and military, failed to be handed over to the KPP. The highly secret operation, wasn't that highly secret, was ruined by the Legionnaries who anticipated the KPP at the checkpoint where Dundorfian and Kundrati officials should have made the delivery. Luckily enough, the Legionnaires couldn't force the Dundorfian officials, better equipped, to hand it over to them, and the money and the material remains in Dundorf.

"These things can happen in the confusion", said the man on the phone, as some heavy chatter could be heard in the background - not only the people of the Foreign Office in Dunburg are having an intense night, this chatter seems to be mostly Lurrian.

"At least we didn't end up funding your enemies, that would have been a critical failure, you know what I mean, Tiberius?" - the "voice" said, sounding partially relieved, and addressing the man with an accent with his actual name for the first time.

"Yes, Alexander, but we are still in the fight!", replied an enraged Tiberius, revealing the voice's identity, Foreign Minister Alexander Schumacher.

Trying to reassure his counterpart, Alexander replied camly, but firmly: "I know, I know, we'll come up with something, besides, their winter offensive failed and we can come up with something new in the spring - we still support KPP."

The man on the other side of the telephone line sounds like KPP's Tiberius Bonislav - and the nodding from the officials seated next to Minister Schumacher seems to confirm so.

The call comes to an end: "I hope so. I'll conduct an investigation to see if this delivery was sabotaged from the inside, but I exclude that. I have to go, Mr. Schumacher, let's keep in contact."

Schumacher, looking to his aides, "this could have gone horribly, but how is it that this border delivery couldn't go through is [...]"

[Ligbruderkrieg]

Unknown location, Luthori, April 15th.

"You've asked me to come here, Mr. von Clauwitz, I hope it's for a good reason, at least."

"Surely, you wouldn't be disappointed, Ms. Kadiyot. If you would follow me."

Then the pair marched towards an unknown location, deep inside the Tower of Fort William, where all imperial secrets lies.

They've arrived in a secret room, where all Imperial relicas are kept when not shown to the public. The Imperial State Crown, the St-Edward Crown, the Gems...

"So, what? I sure didn't mind to lose some time with you, Ferdinand. But why are we here?" The Kadiyot grew impatient.

"Maria, Vanuku collapsed into the Reds' arms. The House of Orange-Villayn will claim the Throne, yet again."

"I see, what has that to do with the Kadiyots?"

"We need your support in the Conclave."

"Hm."

"Yet, we know that it's not free. So, in part of paying. Here, Her Majesty offers to Beiteynu the chance of reclaiming one of its Gems."

The normally calm Kadiyot was taken aback from that statement. And she could only mutter.

"Which...which...gem..."

"The Meleh's. I can give it to you right here. If you give us your support in the Conclave."

After some seconds reflecting on the decision, she finally said.

"Fine. You have the support of the House Kadiyot in your endeavour."

"Wonderful."

"Just remember, my House is content, if you remain loyal to Beiteynu and the Yeudi People."

"Certainly. Here is the Gem. The Meleh's Gem. Stolen by the Benowitzes. Back in Beiteynu.", the man finally said, giving her the Gem.

"Yet, we can't trust you before you do your part of the deal, my dear Maria. Vote for us, then only then the Gem shall be yours, I'll make sure of it."

[Dredd]

[Extea, 3rd April 5590, 1800 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 6

Tiberius checked his watch again as he continued pacing across the grand room within the old Kalistani palace, soon to be rightfully returned to the royal family once the celebrations finished. He had invited everyone of note he could think of; The heads of the Navy, Airforce, Army, foreign dignitaries some of small note and others of large like Guillaume l’Uniter, Chancellor of Alduria. He invited all the heads of the KPP and allowed some to bring their spouses and close family. It was estimated over 60 heads of departments and those of political stature would be here, and it was both terrifying and exciting as he checked his watch once again. "Please don't worry yourself Monsieur, I assure you all the proper preparations have been made." said Jacque, a well established event planner brought from Lourenne just weeks prior. Tiberius closed his eyes and sighed, "You're certain we accounted for all the diets of the guests, including the vegan and vegetarian entrees?", "Of course Monsieur, we have a delectable selection that will be all on schedule, the kitchen is in good hands, I brought my personal Sous chefs from the capital."

Good Tiberius thought to himself, this event was going to be one of the most important of his life, it was going to solidify his regime as the proper authorities despite the Assembly failing to recognize it. All future diplomatic dealings would rely on the success of tonight, everything had to be perfect, absolutely perfect. A slight drizzle began to pepper the ceiling tall windows of the dining room, as servants plated the 40 meter long grand table covered in white cloth. Tiberius blew out a breath and read the guest list one last time.

[1805]
The first officials began arriving in the immaculate building, the entryway lined with red carpet and flanked by the personal guard of the army, they made an intimidating parameter around the entire estate, every entryway guarded and every guest verified. Bright golden chandeliers hung from the ceilings cascading light upon the priceless oil paintings lining the walls of the parlor. As each guest walked inside dozens of servants awaited with O'dourves, champagne glasses and fine wines. One older man stood in the entryway announcing the names of each who entered one after the other. "General Of the Kundrati Armed Forces Bernart Jausoro! Chancellor of Alduria Guillaume l’Uniter! Interior minister Ibon Oronos!" One after the other they shuffled in slowly shaking hands and making greetings to one and other, women in their dashing dresses and pampered hairdos, men in pressed tuxedos and pomaded combovers. So far the night was off to a good start, and Tiberius smiled genuinely as he shook hands with every person who entered.

[1806]
Aldera frowned as she tilted her helmet up and saw the sky darken under rainclouds. "Thats just fucking delightful" she thought, "Not only do I get pulled off home leave, but I get to stand in the rain for 12 hours while I guard a bunch of pompous pricks parading like peacocks." She guessed it wasn't so bad though, she was promised a bonus in return and a second leave whenever she wanted, and in the end she knew the importance of it. The Legion had destroyed her home and killed countless of her friends, she knew if there was any hope of defeating them then the world had to recognize the new KPP regime. As she heard a car pull forward headlights beaming she, readjusting her Captains lapels, waved the car down. "Name and identification please." She barely payed any attention to the details as she waved in the car, probably the 13th so far, and sighed wishing she could light a cigarette if not for the sudden weather.

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 1740 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 7

Igor straightened his tie looking in the mirror at himself, he hated this ridiculous suit, it chafed him in all the wrong places and he hadn't any time to get it fitted, but at least it was only for the night. He checked for his ID once again to enter the party, it'd fabricated only days earlier but looked real enough, at least by the time anyone noticed it wouldn't matter anymore. The cover story was good, one of the waiters had to call off sick and needed a replacement for the big event, and Igor or "Sebastian" as his ID stated was in the right place at a very auspicious time. He slipped his VP70 into his waist holster, sleekly concealed under the velvet dress vest and slipped on his tuxedo jacket. He finished pushing a small dagger into his leg sheathe dropping his pant leg and tied his sleek black dress shoes. Through the window he peered out into the dark street, spotting his cab waiting for him under the dimly lit street lamps. A final check of the gear, a tug at the bottom of his coat, and Igor wiping the doorknob with his handkerchief gingerly closed it as he stepped into the hallway, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mustached lips.

[Condor State Prison, 1750 Hours]

So this was meant to be our leaders tomb, this giant block of wet concrete and guard towers, surrounded by a bouquet of electric fences. They'd spent months tracking the place down, a monolithic structure on the edge of bluffs overlooking the coastline, and even more months planning the heist that was about to occur, except unlike a bank with their money and gold bars, the object was a man. A man Petr had signed on to save knowing full well he may lose his life in the attempt, but he was more than willing to die for the man he both admired and idolized in equal measure. His team, ST-"Puma" had spent the last hour scaling the bluffs behind the prison, most of them had been selected for prior service in special forces teams or hiking crews with experience in rock climbing, and they'd made it up despite the slick surfaces and steep cliff face. They unveiled the tools under a tarp to block the flashlight, ensuring nothing had been left behind; A bundle of satchel charges and explosives, silencers and night vision goggles, their balaclavas and tactical armor. They slipped out of their wetsuits and equipped the special tailored arsenal, waiting for the signal that the fence was deactivated expected in 30 minutes, 3 flashes on the right tower. They had plotted out the exact place in the wall to enter and where to plant their deadly payloads, Petr sat in the dark with only the sound of his own heartbeat to meditate upon as he relished in the adrenaline knowing just how insane this plot truly was. But if it worked, he could save his fatherland.

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 1840 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 8

Tiberius smiled shaking hands with another spouse of whatever armed forces husband she had come with, reaching into his pocket apologizing profusely he stepped away from the bustling room and answered the vibrating phone, plugging his other ear with his finger. "This better be something important because I'm a little FUCKING busy right now" he spat out silently as he tried to make out the cracking voice. "What, an incident at which prison? Why can't the local security deal with it, God you-....hello you-, you're breaking up, hello? Listen if you can hear me, Go. Deal. With. It. I cannot be bothered with this shit right now." He whispered loudly snapping the flip phone closed. Turning around he immediately shifted his annoyed frown to a bright fake smile, "Ah secretary Josia, what a pleasure!"

[1845 Hours]

Fuck, Igor nearly said out loud. The taxi has taken far, far too long, he only hoped he'd made in time for the dinner service. Igor shifted uncomfortably in the backseat of his cab as it finally approached the checkpoint into the estate proper. Slowly they came to a stop as the sky continued to get darker with the sun beginning to set. His back window slowly rolled down as a female captain in military attire stepped forward looking inward with a flashlight, "Name and identification". "Certainly" said Igor as he held up his ID under the name Sebastian. Glossy eyed and seeming quite uninterested she having barely looked for a few seconds waved him along saying "Have a nice night" with as little effort as possible. Igor nodded rolling up the window, then leaned back as a dumbfounded grin emerged on his face, he couldn't believe how lax the security was. The cab pulled next to the back entrance where servants came in and out rapidly throwing away trash, some kitchen staff having cigarettes. Igor tipped the cab driver and approached what looking like a manager, some petite thin man barking out orders at a few staff who took a bit too long on their union mandated breaks. "Excuse me sir, I'm Sebastian the replacement, terribly sorry for the lateness the traffic simply couldn't be helped.", The manager turning about and looking down the man unimpressed, "Traffic huh? You'd better be happy we're short handed or I'd have fired your ass 10 minutes ago, get in there and find something to do." Igor nodding briskly proceeded inside the doors, hot air rushing his face as his ears were filled with the clattering of a kitchen cooking for hundreds.


[1850 Hours]

Sous Chef Reynald furiously critiqued every aspect of the Kitchen, patrolling it and keeping an eye on every operation. "Turn down that stove damn it, and who left these fucking beef tartare's out here!? I swear if I find who..." He suddenly felt a tap on the shoulder as another foreign Kundrati waiter he'd never met spoke to him. "Terribly sorry Chef but I'm afraid there's been an incident in the 4th freezer, something about raw scallops being put next to some poultry?" Oh god, no fucking way Reynald panicked internally, "God damn it are you kidding me? Come on you fucking termite" He said stomping off dodging staff with platters in hand. The inside of the freezer was bitterly cold as he approached the back, Sebastian flanking him "What scallops are you talking about I don't see anyt-" Suddenly Reynald couldn't breathe, he felt a hot sharp pain cross his neck as he grabbed at the wire strung around his throat, Trying desperately to gasp Reynald kicking and flinging his hands uselessly backwards to hit his assailant, he could only look up at the face of his killer, a devilish grin plastered across his face with gritted teeth and bloodshot eyes. Reynalds world began to turn black as he slumped over, spit dribbling down the corner of his purple mouth.

Igor checking the chefs pulse turned around to make sure the freezer was still clear, "You wont be snooping about anymore you Lourenesse vermin." He said spitting on the corpse, turning and putting his garrote back in his pocket he locked the door and with some superglue gummed the latch enough to where it was inoperable. He walked into the kitchen straightening his hair and fondled the vial in his pocket with anxious fingers.

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 1830 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 9

Special Holding Cell #019

Bronislav paced around his cramped cell with impatience as he waited for his dinner to arrive. Once he'd been president of the nation and now he was confined to a small cell with a bucket for a toilet and a mattress that had more fleas than feathers. He gritted his teeth imaging the suffering he would inflict on his enemies if he had the chance, he had prayed to god every day since his arrest in Kaesama, when the vermin that called themselves "patriots" stormed his office for the same party that launched the Coup, the despicable Kalistani lapdogs of the KPP. Sometimes he wondered if he should have pulled out his pistol and simply shot as many as he could before he himself was riddled with assault rifles, but then again he was already sitting on his bed before he had a chance to grab it from his desk drawer. Deep in thought a loud tremor shook the entirety of the prison, rattling his bedframe and sending him stumbling to the side. He pressed his face through the bars of his door as far as he could to see what the commotion was. Jackbooted footsteps of frantically paced guards ran through the halls barking incomprehensible orders from afar. The next sound was the staccato crack of machinegun fire, Bronislav smiled as he began fantasizing, were his prayers finally answered? Had other prisoners begun to stage a breakout? Had some sympathetic guards taken heard his plea? Fire alarms blared as screams and gunfire grew closer and closer.

[1835 Hours]

"Double quick get to the fucking armory now, we have a possible breakout!" Lieutentant Petiri sprinted as fast as he could down the cramped halls, alarms blaring and red emergency bulbs the only source of light in the concrete fortress. He turned a corner and slammed the armory door open with three of his fellow guards, to his surprise seeing four of them already inside wearing vests and loading submachine guns, not noticing the red arm bands. "Thank god you guys got here, Warden says he wants all of us to find whatever that explosion was asap!", The other guard racking a round replying "Understood, the 4 lockers over there are loaded, arm yourselves." Petiri and his 3 comrades ran to the lockers and flung them open only to find them all empty, confused he turned and saw the four men aiming their guns at them. Before he could inquire his confusion was answered as he and his 3 deputies were riddled with 9mm automatic fire, he was dead before he hit the floor.

[1840 Hours]

PT-Puma had after the signal was given flawlessly set off the condensed Semtex charges, and systematically cleared the first entry point of the cell block. Many a confused guard without the arm bands to signify their allegiance were cut down before firing a shot. Their black balaclavas stained in crimson they proceeded cell by cell as prisoners yelling and hollering like caged animals screamed, some scared some joyously. The conditions were deplorable, Petr became more and more furious as they pushed on, he knew his leader was held in this squalor. He turned the corner and nearly opened fire on a group of guards before noticing the arm bands. "Are you guys Puma?" Petr nodded and lowered his gun. "Bout time, we've neutralized most of the guards in this cell block but the Warden is in a panic room."

"Where is comrade Bronislavs cell?" Barked Petr. The leader of the renegade guards replied "Right this way comrade, Cell #019 is just down the hall..."

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 1900 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 10

Bronislav backed away from the cell door as 6 men in all black wearing their balaclavas tight stepped infront of his meagre cell. A single man stepped forward pulling his mask up, a young man no older than 23. "Comrade Bronislav, my name is Petr Slobodic, we are here to free you from captivity." Bronislavs face lit up as though god himself had cast his radiance upon him. "We'll need you to come with us as we escort you to the Helipad."

"The Helipad?" Bronislav inquired, wouldn't he have some boat side escape, an armored convoy? "Yes sir, operation deathblow is under way, you'll be arriving in eastern Extea within the hour, we'll explain the details during the trip." The guard motioned to one of the deputies and he unlocked the door handing Bronislav a bag. "Some new clothes for you sir" Bronislav couldnt hold back the smile as he pulled out the old jacket from his office.

[1920 Hours]

Aldera yawned as she waved in the final vehicle at her checkpoint, finally that should be the last for the night. She stepped to the side plopping into a plastic chair by her guard stand. The other soldier offered her a cigarette to which she gladly lit under the awnings of the roofed station. Lighting it she remarked to the guard, "So how long you been on this detail, or you a new transfer?"

"Guess you could say a new transfer yea. Saw service around Kaesama before getting sent here." Aldera remarked "You were involved in that mess? Glad you made it out alive, quite the shit show the Legion caused in that debacle, lost a few friends there myself." The recruit muttered as he sat beside her, "Wasn't too hard inside the city to be honest, had more difficulty getting here." Aldera furrowed her brow, turning her head to ask what he meant she felt the cold steel of a dagger shoved into her carotid, as a second soldier behind her gave her a single silenced shot to the back of the head. The two soldiers got up and loaded their rifles facing the estate with malicious intent. "ST-Valkyrie in position" One of them muttered in a radio.

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 2000 Hours]

The Clock Strikes 11

Tiberius stood at the head of the grand table in the dining room, as waiters all passed out champagne glasses to all the attendees as he raised his glass to the crowd. "My esteemed ladies & gentlemen, was the meal to your liking?" Murmurs of approval and a light applause followed. "I am so very proud to host you all here as the new regime relocates to our humble Extea, we hope to continue to expand our diplomatic overtures to all nations represented here, and to once again give our utmost gratitude to our service men and women. The legion will be felled and the KPP restored to power, and with your help our continent returned to a peaceful status. To you, I raise my glass!" He held his champagne high in the air, as 80 glasses raised in unison. "For Kundrati!" The crowed chanted back in unison drinking deeply. They all delightfully clapped as varieties of deserts were brought out quickly and set before the attendees.

Tiberius sat down exhaling, he had been worried this would go haywire, but the night was finally drawing to a close. He could imagine the future aid packages arriving, the alliances signed and the recovery of the true capital of the country. He drank the last of his champagne and happily dug into his red velvet cake.

Minutes passed as he noticed some of his guests leaving the tables abruptly and some seemingly in discomfort, concerned waiters checking on them. Tiberius looking to the window as he saw a helicopter approaching the mansion. That was odd, he didn't remember anyone arriving via helipad. Thats when the first guest began convulsing, then 4, then 20. His eyes widened in horror as dozens of people began vomiting and seizing upon the carpeted floors in a cacophony of choked cries and screams. He rubbed his nose and saw blood smear upon his fingers when armed guards kicking down doors began wantonly slaughtering the entire staff with every manner of weapon. The sound was deafening, Tiberius in a panic stood to run only to meet the butt of a rifle in his nose. He crumped to the floor clutching his face in agony. The army soldier who had been guarding the front entrance loomed over him, "Going somewhere Mr. President?"

[2010 Hours]

The helicopter landed with a brisk thud as the squad jumping out with Bronislav secured the helipad and confirmed the building was secure. Bronislav ignoring the downpour of rain walked down the roof stairwell into the 2nd floor, down the spiral staircase. He stepped over multiple bodies sprawled upon the floor in every grotesque position, the smell of gunpowder and copper flooding the building. White carpets stained red with dried blood, he turned the corner walking into the butchery that was before him. four dozen corpses massacred upon the 40 meter long dining table, all kinds of elaborate dinnerwear and foods ruined and smashed. Bullet casings littered the floor and the elegant tuxedoed staff were all dead to a man, except one who saluted him as he walked by smiling widely. Bronislav returning the salute was then greeted by a muscular man in army fatigues. "Comrade Bronislav, we saved the last one for you." Tiberius was dragged before him his hands ziptied and shoved on his knees, Bronislav was handed his old ivory handled .45 caliber pistol and looked down on the pitiful man. Once again he had triumphed, once again though the world thought they could stop him he had been reborn from the ashes. God was on his side. The pitiful man looked up meekly awaiting his fate, as Bronislav leveled the gun and smote the sinner down in righteous justice. Kundrati had finally been liberated, the legion had won.

[Dredd]

[3rd April 5590, 2350 Hours]

Bronislav sat gingerly in his old armchair in his presidential office and read the reports again. The heads of staff for the armed forces were all dead, all ministers of the KPP had been killed. The chancellor from Alduria Guillaume had been spared though, Bronislav explained to him through his sobs on the floor he wanted him to return home and tell his countrymen what awaited all who defied his own god given rulership. He adjusted his tie one last time before preparing for his televised speech, and walked into the lobby facing the multitude of cameras before his podium. Bronislav needing no teleprompter nor sheets spoke from his own heart, as angels told him what to say, in seconds every television in Kundrati changed to one singular channel, and before them they gazed upon the face of the man they thought dead.

"My people of Kundrati, I return to you now at the head of a heavenly chariot, driven by the steeds of holy fury. I was once damned and left for dead by the traitors of the KPP, I was to be executed at the behest of foreign powers and paraded as a corpse trophy to the satanic powers of the world. Yet arisen I stand, God himself brought me from the brink of death. I owe him everything, and as his chosen voice I will reshape our nation into heaven upon earth. Sinners wail before your impending fate! Righteous kundratis rejoice, for we have reclaimed the fatherland! His face burned into the screen the new anthem of the regime played loudly as the flag of Kundrati waved. Bronislav wiped a single tear from his cheek as the televisions stopped his speech, he silently thanked god for his blessings, and walking with purpose to his office, prepared his holy crusade to purge Kundrati of the filth.



Then the clock struck twelve