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DispatchAccountDrama

by The Restored First Republic of Ridnez. . 34 reads.

The Ridnez Civil War Part 3

Imperial Senate Building, Vocryae, Jocospor

Andreas Bombardone was regarded as many things over the turbulent and exceptional course that his life had taken. Some men called him prophet; others called him madman. Now, by the assent of the majority of voting delegates to the Confederation's Imperial Senate, they had two more appellations with which to describe him: "President," and at least until the eventual conclusion of his tenure in the former role, also "Member of the Imperial Council." Yet for all the added prestige of his offices and titles -- Chief of State, Hierarch of the ISV, President of the Senate -- all of these could describe him, but none of them truly encapsulated the fullness of what he was. Philosophers have pondered since time immemorial how best to estimate the measure of a man, but the measure of Bombardone, in his own mind, at least where his countrymen ought to be concerned, was incalculable. So it was with his thoughts once more upon the disconcerting events to strike Ridnez that Bombardone waited for another statesman, held in immense esteem in the land from which he hailed, who like Bombardone would stake the life of his entire nation upon the enormous strength of his personality. These were kindred souls, who likewise acknowledged one another as enlightened visionaries, capable of affecting the most extraordinary shifts in the destiny of the human race by the merest exertion of willpower. Nations spawned or obliterated by mere penstrokes; untold millions whose futures depended upon an exchange of words -- that was the power that men like these wielded. And furthermore, both Bombardone and his peer recognized that events of even more colossal significance were bound to occur when such as they found occasion to unite. It was precisely because of this that Bombardone awaited his expected visitor with the weight of anticipation sinking in his gut, a sensation that Bombardone was not used to.

Wilhelm Schneider, on the other hand, was principally seen as a man that had, by sheer luck and opportunity, managed to ascend the social ladder, however, they all knew there was some serious commitment involved for one to become influential within such a compact amount of time, in hardly ten years he progressed from being designated "Junker" to "the Emperor's hand" "Protector of Assenstadt" and the less prestigious title of "Count" yet, the man (at heart) was still a soldier, yet now one that held such enormous power on a local and international measure that it would at some times bewilder even him. He had never been extensively involved in international politics and during his short reign in the Emperor's absence, he had not endeavored any diplomatic rapprochement with others, rather having to focus on the many problems that he was abruptly responsible for. This, nonetheless, did not show from his appearance nor his behavior as the man was still one to be honored and dominant, even if he himself would rather not have it so, yet his duty bound him to it, and good soldiers do exactly this. As such Schneider had the heavy feeling of anticipation, but on top of all uncertainties regarding himself as he was driven through the Capital of the nation that he had heard so much about, yet never seen. He realized how easy it was to feel powerless against an entity greater than he could ever comprehend in the short time he would be there, and the man he was about to meet held such power that he did not, being able to alter the course of events not only for his state, or those of others, but the entirety of the greater realm; admittedly, it was still limited, but it was more than he would ever envision having, his hands were already full with his current position. He tried to look his best for the meeting, donning a distinctive white uniform with black trousers, both being adorned with golden lining and his various Military Awards, his Imperial Order of the Silver Dagger proudly dangling from his collar, or well, the compact version of it.

Bombardone poured out a glass of bourbon before Schneider arrived at the door of his presidential office within the ISB. The office was considerably more spacious than the one that he occupied in the Ridnez presidential palace in Centro Nuovo. Bombardone had no reason to expect anything less of the majesty of Jocospor. As the white-clad Xaviet stepped through the doorway, Bombardone addressed him casually, "Count Schneider, I presume? My foreign minister told me that your foreign minister proposed this meeting should be conducted in private. It is a long way from your homeland to Vocryae, so I assume your concern carries an especial urgency about it. I must admit that you have successfully piqued my interest in what you have to say." Bombardone said all this without drawing his attention from the documents upon his desk. Being President of the Imperial Senate came with its own share of bureaucracy to navigate, and he found that executing his desired programs required more red tape than in Ridnez, where the bureaucrats would manage the red tape themselves without bothering the Hierarch, and all officials generally collaborated to enact Bombardone's will without boring him about the specifics.

Schneider, after entering the office that weirdly seemed similar to his own, with only a few differences in placement and decoration of the furniture, was pleasantly surprised by the calm and relatively normal greeting the man gave him, being used to entire halls of men standing at attention for him; this somewhat relaxed Schneider before he had even fully entered the office, stepping inside and taking off his cap before speaking. "Indeed, Herr Präsident, you have assumed correctly," he said, smiling a little, "Indeed it does, I had only sent over Bres personally so as to not have our signal tapped. After all, it is of national and international importance to us. For that very reason I too have come here to this, might I add, beautiful city of Vocryae. I have a few points to discuss that go... Beyond military alliance." Wilhelm was impressed and somewhat surprised by the man's ability to work as if he was not even there, although he was fairly convinced the only reason he was surprised was because usually, it was not like so. He looked around the office again shortly before seating himself in the chair across from Herr Bombardone, whom he was almost hesitant to talk to as he was busy, "I have brought some documents with me expressing my nation's concerns with the world's current state and what our plans are... But I assume you already have enough paperwork to tend to." He had a little trouble speaking to the man both because he had to speak the universal language (something he didn't do very often) and also because he wasn't sure if Bombardone would have the same viewpoint his nation had of the world around it and he could fail the diplomatic connection they hoped to achieve in this very room.

As Bombardone reviewed the documents, considering their contents, his mind wandered to the September 3 issue of The Confederation Bullet, sitting on his desk. The headline advertised a transcript of a debate between two Jocospite economists over the benefits and drawbacks associated with the two major coalitions of Confederation member states, the Omsk Treaty Organization (OTO) and the League of Prosperous Nations (LOPN). Bombardone had the page open to a section which made particular mention of his homeland. Specifically, Ridnez was brought up vis-a-vis her membership in the LOPN, questioning the political implications, if any, of this fact upon the Imperial Senate. Bombardone grinned ever so slightly, considering the proposition which Schneider now faced him with. Bombardone's response was short and pithy, "Count Schneider, your offer intrigues me considerably. I believe that our respective governments should... look into this more seriously. After all, who is to say what the future holds?"

Just then, a disturbance disrupted the feed to the TV monitor anchored to the office wall. It was previously tuned in to WRSMC News, playing in the background, but the picture unexpectedly turned to static, grabbing Bombardone's attention. Another second later, the picture was restored, now displaying the darkened room where the CDEF made all their announcements to the public from. The CDEF hijacked the WRSMC broadcasting frequency again. Oberto was the only one of the five to stand, and it was he who delivered the message of the day, "In light of the breakdown of law and order in the city of Magnifico, and the terrorization of her residents by a new anti-capitalist insurgent movement, the Committee for Democracy and Entrepreneurial Freedom views its claim that Zendirism is a failed system, incapable of protecting the interests of the common man, to be more trenchant than ever! In order to bring peace, liberty, and stability to this historic city of Ridnez's past, we hereby declare that it is our prerogative to establish our presence there and quell the murderous uprising within our midst. Hear us, proud citizens of Ridnez! Join us! Rise up, and a better, freer future will soon be upon us!"

Just then, the television blinked out.

Magnifico, The Republic of Ridnez

It has been a week since the CDEF declared their intent to claim the city to impose the rule of law. This threat was not unheeded by the Horizontalist Collective, which has seized control over the Magnifican perimeter wall and its defensive systems. Surface-to-air missile launchers and automated Gatling gun turrets were built into the wall to keep it from being breached from the Outer Sector. In spite of that, a small number of escaped slaves made the perilous journey and found relative safety within the city anyway, with emphasis upon the word "relative." Now the Horizontalists had usurped that defensive infrastructure, having rapidly seized control of the perimeter wall and intent on using it for the preservation of their revolutionary project. The defensive systems were typically maintained by a group of dedicated technicians and engineers; these were permitted to live untouched by the Horizontalists' revenge in exchange for their services.

Meanwhile, in what was formerly the financial district of the city, a public square has been taken under the control of the Horizontalists as a staging ground for a series of summary trials conducted by the self-proclaimed "Tribunal of Proletarian Justice." Each day, the Tribunal would convene, with Horizontalist leader Adriana Tomasi at the forefront, and list off crimes against the people committed by notable Ridnezite citizens, most of them of the Ridnezite ethnic majority, although a significant number of minority individuals who avoided the Zendirist regime's persecutions by keeping their heads down or bribing local authorities were also singled out. Charges brought forth against the "defendants" in these trials ranged from "capitalist exploitation" to "collaboration with the Zendirist dogs" to "peddling reactionary lies." The jails of Magnifico were stuffed almost beyond capacity with all manner of bureaucrats, police officers, and politicians who enforced the dictatorial policy of the New State, among them the city's mayor Paolo Anzano, in addition to innumerable clerks, technicians, doctors, small businessmen, religious leaders (both affiliated to the Temple of Umbra and otherwise), bankers, and other middle-class professionals.

After the list of crimes was read in completion, defendants would be asked how they plead. A "guilty" plea would result in taped execution by guillotine; a "not guilty" plea would result in the defendant being publicly beaten and humiliated until they changed their plea, after which the execution would commence. The Horizontalists made sure to leak these taped executions to the Ridnezite state media, knowing that these would be played for maximum negative propaganda value, but under the odd belief that those sympathetic to their cause outside of Magnifico would take inspiration from these acts to subvert larger Ridnezite society. In the mind of "Comrade Tomasi," this made sense: The trials and the executions were the first shots fired in a class-war against her perceived enemies, the Ridnezite bourgeoisie, and publicization of these would theoretically serve as a rallying cry to the wider proletariat of Ridnez to shake off Zendirism and perpetuate similar actions elsewhere. The fact that the large "petit-bourgeois" demographic that comprises most traditional media consumers would react with horror made little difference to her.

This day was especially significant to Adriana, as it was the day she had scheduled for the execution of five important figures who represented resistance to her: Mayor Anzano, Police Commissioner Massimo Selvo, the Prelate of Umbra Giordano Rossi, Desi Falco (whose death she planned to make as a statement to the New State when she leaked the footage), and lastly The Ocelot. Adriana visited the cell where Ocelot, Desi, and Selvo were locked up to inform them of their imminent fate. 16 of the cell's occupants at the time of the Ocelot's incarceration, all of them police officers, had already been guillotined, leaving the extra space to be filled by civilians, most of them either middle-class office workers or shop owners. Already in the time since their first meeting, Adriana appeared more "proper" in attire and demeanor as a paramilitary revolutionary leader, wearing military fatigues and a red beret, while the Ocelot appeared relatively disheveled and the leather of her catsuit seemed somewhat scuffed. Some of the policemen occupying the cell tried to attack the Ocelot, including while she was sleeping, and were left off worse for wear because of it. Some of them, whose heads had been removed in the interval, were no longer around to regret their belligerence, but the ones who were still left had since learned their lesson and gave the Ocelot her space.

Adriana sized up the Ocelot, who was leaning against a wall with arms folded, trying not to acknowledge her captor's presence. She then turned her attention to the group of prisoners more generally to make her announcement, "Now is the day which shall prove the potency of our revolution to the whole world! Now is the day that the symbols of Zendirist authority in this city shall be shattered forever! Anzano has already been made aware that his trial will be held in a few hours' time and been given ample time to reflect upon his miserable life. I think it only fitting for the Police Commissioner to be extended the same courtesy, even if it is more than pigs like you deserve." Adriana focuses now upon Desi, sitting in the back-right corner of the cell, "Don't worry. We haven't forgotten about you either. The period of leniency is at an end, since there is no longer any obvious gain in preserving you. This city belongs to the Horizontalist Collective. All that is left to make you into a cautionary tale. If you believe in any gods, do your praying now, wretch." From Desi's end of the cell there is no response.

Adriana begins to walk away, but stops herself to face the Ocelot one more time. As if on cue, the Ocelot looks upwards to give Adriana her chilling glare. If there is perceptible hardness within Adriana's eyes, then there is only concentrated, unspoken contempt in Ocelot's. With a tone in a slightly lower register, indicating less arrogance and greater solemnity and reluctance, Adriana informs her once-inspiration-turned-enemy, "Your time is also about up... But don't worry, unlike these other vermin, the Collective recognizes your invaluable contributions in fighting against the Zendirist scourge... You will be given a more dignified end, on your own terms. It is truly a pity that you had to resist the winds of change when we would have accepted your hand in friendship so warmly..."

The Ocelot's expression contorts with disgust at the somber attitude that Adriana is trying to affect, "All I did was disagree with your conclusions, 'comrade,' and that was all it took for you to turn on me. You act as if I went out of my way to declare you my enemy, but no... Your uncompromising worldview has no room for anything that contradicts it, or which exists outside it. That was your first error, just as it was the first error Bombardone made... I don't know what's in your past, but rumors are that you've begun to turn your wrath on ordinary people who have nothing to do with Zendirist tyranny." Adriana turned her head downwards and shook it in frustration at the Ocelot's lack of understanding, "I thought I explained this already. Zendirism was merely one emanation of a disease that plagues the whole world -- the plague of capitalism. So long as bourgeois beneficiaries of the private property system exist, then it is essential to liquidate them in order to create true justice and equality. Your failure is only to look at the symptoms of the disease and combat that instead of focusing your efforts upon the root of the disease itself... And it is your defiance of our attempts to target these roots that are the reason you have to die... Adieu, Comrade Ocelot."

Adriana turned and began to walk away, but the Ocelot thrust herself against the bars, "You won't get away with this, you know. I'm getting out of here, and I'm going to stop you!" Selvo scoffed at the Ocelot's proclamation, "If you hadn't stopped me a week ago, I would have taken my own life and died with dignity. Now because of you, I'll be dragged before these miscreants and humiliated before their judgement before I die." His voice had a nasally distortion to it, a product of the Ocelot having broken it some days ago. The Ocelot dismissed Selvo as she returned to lean against the back wall of the cell, "Shut up, or I'll kill you myself right now. I need to think..."

2 hours later

The Ocelot frantically paced from one end of her cell to the other, thinking about how she could extricate herself from her predicament. Desi Falco, meanwhile, sat almost motionlessly, having accepted the fate awaiting him. Just then, the guard posted to that cell block was relieved by one of his fellow Horizontalists, "I'm taking over for you, comrade. Comrade Tomasi has urgent need to see you right now!" The guard was bewildered by this unexpected news, "Me? B-but why? What is this about?" The man come to relieve him merely shrugged, "That, I cannot say. I was not given much information to go off of..." The guard nervously abandoned his post, wondering whether he had committed some infraction that would cause him to require "disciplining." After making sure the guard had gone, this new arrival quickly set at work to unlock the cell door. The Ocelot was first to express her surprise at this turn of events, "You're letting us go?" The man before her offered only a cryptic reply, "Don't make too much noise. Don't ask questions. Just follow me."

Meanwhile, in the financial district, Adriana was at work breaking the will of Mayor Anzano, "Thus are the charges brought against your person by the people as a collective body -- Collaboration with the Zendirist regime, oppression of the working classes, collusion with the interests of private finance capital -- How do you plead?" The once-powerful official of Zendirist power was a broken-down wreck of his former self, clad in shabby clothing and with a generally dirty appearance. Anzano trembled at the thought of his impending doom, "N-n-not g-guilty." With that, wads of garbage pelted the man, and the crowd closed in to beat and kick him with years of pent-up fury. Although he seemed pathetic now, it is worth reminding that Anzano was no innocent, as he was complicit in the facilitation of a number of Zendirist policies that tightly regulated social and economic activity and destroyed thousands of lives over the decade or so of his tenure. It was not essential for one to be a Horizontalist to detest this man and everything he stood for. Once the mob had enough, the "bailiffs" of this kangaroo-court re-established a semblance of order and propped Anzano up in his seat. Adriana went on with the charade, "Added to your list of offenses now is perjury. Now how do you plead?" Anzano, precariously wobbling against the edge of his seat, knew what awaited him if he pled "guilty," but having been viciously mauled, and determining that he was going to die one way or the other, he decided to put an end to his misery and end it all, "I p-p-plead g-g-guil..." Anzano gulped, "Guilty."

The "bailiffs" then seized Anzano, dragged him over to the guillotine without ceremony, and lowered the blade. Mere seconds before his decapitation, Anzano began to whimper and beg for his life, as if the imminence of his death energized his self-preservation instinct in his final few moments. It was all for naught. After the ex-mayor's head rolled across the square to the spiteful cheering and gawking of the crowd, Adriana was interrupted by the Horizonatalist guard previously posted to the cell block containing the Ocelot. The guard addressed his leader, "You wished to see me, Comrade Tomasi?" Adriana reacted with immediate confusion, "What? I didn't send for anybody! Who are you?" After recovering from the confusion, the guard responded, "I'm Comrade Milos, previously posted to guard the high-priority... prisoners." Only at this moment did "Comrade Milos" realize the depth of his stupidity in abandoning his post without questioning his alleged replacement more extensively.

That moment, a deafening boom could be heard from miles away. The perimeter wall against the Outer Sector had been blasted to rubble by a network of explosive charges. An act of sabotage was underway.

The CDEF finally made their move.

Vocryae, The Shadow Cult of Jocospor

Andreas Bombardone was seated in the office of the President of the Imperial Senate, working through mounds of paperwork. In addition to planned legislation and bureaucratic red tape, copies had been sent in the past week about a number of regional upheavals: a socialist rebellion in The Southern Republic of The Dixie Confederate Union demanding his attention, a civil war spurred on by communists in The Military-Feudal Junta of Golden Impirial Utopia, and an announcement of a wedding between Jocospor's High-Direktor Sir Adalberto Fabian HCF and former Jocospite Senator Lucia d'Mow. Due to being buried in forms, Bombardone initially dispatched Gregorio De Marco to the event in his stead, allowing Vincenzo Borrelli to tag along to form links with Jocospite high society, as was the usual Ridnezite practice during these events.

However, news of the Fabian family's displeasure reached Bombardone's office from the Jocospite Central Imperial Direktorate, especially seeing as how this ceremony was being officially considered as an embrace of the Temple of Umbra by the Shadow Cult. As Prefect of Umbra and President of the Senate, Bombardone realized that it was his responsibility to appear in person to validate the Shadow Cult's faith in him, "Very well, I would hate to disappoint. It appears that I will have to make time to personally attend this auspicious ceremony and enjoy myself then. I can straighten out the rest of the workload on my schedule some other time."

The private facility of Ludovico Tetra, Fulmine Rosso, The Republic of Ridnez

Aldo Scaglietti stood in a dark room, surrounded by various implements whose purposes Scaglietti wished in the moment that he did not know. Among these were tools of torture, as well as devices innovated in conjunction with the late Adalberto Ricci's Mental Reconditioning Team for "reprogramming" of Ocelotist rebels. This was one method that the New State had designed to retaliate against the Ocelotist cells plotting in its major cities, by brainwashing reliable moles to feed the Directorate of State Security credible intel. This technology was still in the trial phase though and had not been implemented on a human subject yet, although by Scaglietti's insistence it would have one now. All of these were the inventions of one Ludovico Tetra, who took a malignant pride in being elevated by Director Del Tuono to the second-highest rank in the department by merit of these "achievements." Scaglietti wrongfully assumed that the anxiety of waiting would be over once Tetra had arrived at his disarmingly serene suburban home and taken the girl out of his hands. But Scaglietti didn't count on that Tetra's private facility would be so... ghastly... much less that his attachment to this girl would grow strong enough that he would experience pangs of concern for her well-being.

30 minutes ago, Tetra carried Vivia into the backroom where he claimed that he did his best work. She yelped and struggled at first, and sounds of a futile struggle could still be heard for minutes afterwards. The noises grew weaker and eventually stopped, but Scaglietti could not suppress the refrain ringing forth from the recesses of his mind: "What is that lunatic doing to my daughter?" As this refrain resounded again and again through the layers of his consciousness, Scaglietti found momentary distraction from the issue of Vivia's immediate safety in wondering how it was that he had become so attached to this young girl. When he first encountered her, he had been directing the liquidation of a batch of escaped slaves from one of the Designated Resettlement Camps.

Two decades ago, after the revolution, Scaglietti was uneasy with the policy of mandating "industrial apprenticeships" for groups of the "antisocial nationalities," but he had accepted his obligation to enforce the policy as a necessary sacrifice to reinforce the stability that Bombardone had brought to the land. By the time he rounded up the group Vivia was a part of, Scaglietti had even grown to experience a perverse exhilaration with the experience of "hunting" these unfortunate wretches. But when he saw Vivia within the group, a figurative gear in the rusted mechanism of Scaglietti's conscience began to turn again. Perhaps it was her ability to "pass" for ethnic-Ridnezite that selectively reactivated Scaglietti's capacity for empathy; perhaps it was her age, as few of the "apprentices," in fact slaves, were consigned to those brutal conditions while so young. Or perhaps years of internally suppressed guilt over his complicity with Zendirist atrocities was brought out all at once upon seeing Vivia's miserable state of total vulnerability. One way or another, the sadistic streak that Scaglietti had developed to manage the cognitive dissonance of his occupation was broken that night, and Scaglietti began to experience shreds of human emotion once again. And it frightened Scaglietti, even more than the possibility of Del Tuono discovering his treachery, that he would have to come to terms with every act of inhumanity committed over the course of his career, now that he had proven to himself he had sufficient human feeling left to experience remorse.

Scaglietti's taciturn ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a metallic locking mechanism releasing itself. It came from within the door leading to Tetra's "reprogramming" chamber. A few seconds later, Tetra emerged, both arms behind his back. The success or failure of the procedure which Scaglietti had requested of him could not be conjectured at from Tetra's grim yet expressionless visage. Whittfield stammered a few feet in the direction of the door before inquiring, "Is... Is it a success? Did it work?" Scaglietti's trepidation was palpable from the shaky quality of his voice. The inscrutable look on Tetra's features showed that he had taken somewhat after his mentor Del Tuono; however, the tenor and content of his reply showed him to be a generally more approachable personality on the whole, "The procedure... will take some time for the girl to recover from. She will suffer from disequilibrium for the next week or so, but there should be no long-term side-effects. As for the memory transplantation, this was a complete success. The girl Vivia recalls nothing of her previous life, nothing of her biological parents, and most importantly, nothing of her trauma. The standard fare of happy childhood experienced have been substituted in their stead: visits to the park, the first 7 or so years of state primary education, and that sort of thing. She will remember you as having been for her in her times of need and to have raised her up in all the instances where she had been 'knocked down' in her fabricated life. And she will 'know' that her mother passed when she was too young to remember, since you are, of course, a widower."

Tetra then handed Scaglietti a file stuffed with sheets, prompting Scaglietti to ask, "What are these?" Tetra replied succinctly, "A cursory summary of the 'life story' contained within the implanted memories, for you to review and take to heart that you may more impeccably play the role of 'father' to the girl. Excessive confusion of her programming, such as by stimuli that contradict that she believes about herself, could result in said programming's deterioration with time. She believes that she was taken here for a unique kind of medical procedure, to stave off an illness. At her age, she is unlikely to question this explanation, so stay consistent with it." Scaglietti expressed understanding, "I see. But can I... see her now?" Tetra smirked in self-satisfaction, "But of course. Congratulations to you, old friend, for your new daughter." Tetra opened the door behind him again, "Come on out now, Vivia. You wouldn't want your father to be concerned about you now, would you?" Vivia stumbled out of the room with a certain unsteadiness, "Dad... The whole room seems to be... spinning. Can we go home now? I really want to lay down." Astonished at the girl's familiar attitude, Scaglietti stumbled over his words while assuming the role that was demanded of him, "Er... Yes, Vivia... We can go home now. Where you can... recover from your... operation. Yes." Scaglietti carried Vivia in his arms and laid her down in the backseat of his car before entering the driver's seat and turning the ignition. As if to reaffirm himself of the new lease on life ahead of him, Scaglietti repeated, "Yes, Vivia. Yes, we're finally going home." Scaglietti was unsure whether there was any redemption for him down the path he had chosen, to save this girl and take her under his protection. After all, he had erased every memory she once possessed of her true past. But somehow, to Scaglietti, right now it seemed like the only viable option left for him.

As Scaglietti drove away from the facility, Tetra returned to the room where the procedure was conducted and printed out several data readouts. These readouts contained information on fluctuations in Vivia's physiology which were monitored as the procedure was underway at several points. Tetra was pleased, "Well, all that's left now is to send this data to the lab boys to run a full multi-system analysis on. I take it that you're satisfied by this test-run of Ricci's contraption?" As Tetra's query appeared to be asked into the darkness, so a dark-clad figure stepped out of the shadowy corners of the room to answer it. He pulled a cigar and lighter out of his leather jacket and breathed a single puff of smoke, before placing the lighter back in his jacket and removing the cigar from his mouth to give a coherent response, "Yes, I would say that I'm impressed by the results. It's rather unfortunate that Ricci is stuck in Magnifico so that he couldn't demonstrate his machine's capabilities personally. We don't even know if he's still alive. But that's beside the point. Your loyalty to the New State is commendable, Deputy Director Tetra. If Scaglietti had chosen to confide the details of his insubordination to any other official, it is possible that we would never have learned." He breathed deeply once again from his cigar before going on, "Of course, now that we've had our fun with the Ziconean pup, both she and the traitor must be disposed of, wouldn't you agree?" Tetra validated his allegiance unhesitatingly, "Naturally, Director Del Tuono. The New State shall not suffer sedition within her ranks, much less advocacy for the degeneration of Ridnezite cultural purity through shielding that caliber of human garbage. The only question is how you want we should proceed with this." Del Tuono offered his answer, "Don't worry yourself about it. I'll make the expense of a personal visit."

Perimeter Wall, Magnifico, The Republic of Ridnez

A network of explosives lacing the weakest point of the perimeter wall detonates in conjunction. The wall, blasted to rubble, sends debris of variable size and weight flying over the distance of 6 city blocks, exploding inward. As the debris falls, a fairly old portion of the residential district of the city is devastated. Not only is property damaged, but lives are also lost. The body count will later be totaled at 26, with an additional 40 civilian survivors who are injured or incapacitated in the aftermath. Waiting on the outside of the wall is an unorthodox army consisting of untrained irregular units from the population of liberated slaves and professional infantry, armored, and aerial units manned by the mercenaries of CrowContracts, Inc. The Horizontalist Collective made a mistake in sparing the technical staff responsible for overseeing the operation of the automated wall defenses; these had more reason to fear Adriana than Oberto and were easily bribed. While the wall defenses, if operational, could easily decimate the invading force, even from the undamaged segments of the wall, no retaliation at this level is staged. This is how the CDEF have chosen to announce the consummation of their promise. The Battle for Magnifico has begun.

30 minutes ago

A helicopter takes off from the helipad on the roof of the Magnifico PD building, bearing three unlikely passengers in its cockpit. The first of these is the Ocelot, a resistance leader who has spent the past 9 years of her life organizing subversive activities and revolutionary cells to collapse the Zendirist government of Ridnez and restore the original Republic. Then there is Desi Falco, once a small-town bumpkin whose shallow patriotism made way for inner crisis of conscience as he realized the extent of his government's inhumanity. The third passenger is the former Police Commissioner Massimo Selvo, an unregenerate Zendirist devotee and xenophobe. The copter was not shot down as it hovered over the perimeter wall and to a makeshift camp set up 5 miles off into the distance, something that all three took particular note of. Their benefactor was in control of the situation, even if he didn't want to show himself. Fortunately, they wouldn't have to wonder for long, as a voice beckoned them to an out-of-place gazebo, located smack-dab in the middle of the camp. The camp's occupant was obscured by flowing curtains shielding him from the Sun's rays, but the bravado in his manner of presentation was unmistakable. "Come in out of this sweltering heat, why don't you? I have a bottle of champagne here and no one to split it with after all," called the voice. The Ocelot was the first to approach, moving the curtains to the side so she could get a clear fix on her savior's face. To her dismay, though not to her surprise, she was met with the preening countenance of Dominic Oberto. Oberto was seated in an antique-looking chair of oak and leather and dressed in a white suit and jacket with black tie, "I'm certain you heard me the first time, beautiful. But let's not dally on the pleasantries, we've got work to do and not much time."

The Ocelot's face wrinkled with consternation, she dashed forward and kicked Oberto out of his chair and straight out of the gazebo, causing him to land face-first in the dirt and dust of the barren ground of the Outer Sector. Before Oberto could recover from this semi-unexpected blow, the Ocelot had broken his champagne bottle against his wooden stand, pounced on Oberto, and turned him around, pressing the jagged edge of the glass against his external jugular vein. "You think that I would ever have anything to do with the likes of you?! I know what you are, Oberto, just like I knew what kind of scum your father was. You might have spent enormous resources on that bit presenting yourself as a 'pro-democracy warrior,' but you've never given a fig about anything in your life but a percentage! After all, who is it that you've made to fight and die in your stead, while you just sit there sipping your champagne? People who have been abused and degraded and stomped into the ground their whole lives! You give them hope, arm them, tell them to die by the dozens, but none of it is to bring real freedom or democracy to these people! It's all to serve you, and your vulgar tastes! You might even be worse than your father -- At least he had the excuse of his past to explain why he became so ideologically deranged, but you... You know better... You just don't care!"

At that moment, the Ocelot heard a click behind her head, startling her. Taking her eyes off Oberto for one second, she was reminded of the reality of her situation -- This camp was set up by the CDEF and therefore crawling with their mercenaries. 20 different contractors had guns pointed straight at her head. Oberto seized the opportunity to get a few words in at Ocelot's expense, "cough I didn't know... That you felt so strongly about this... heh heh... Well, I suppose I can understand why you might not be so fond on the name 'Oberto'... But the feeling isn't exactly mutual. After all, if it weren't for you blowing dear old pop's face off, I wouldn't have inherited so soon! And then all of this wouldn't have been made possible..." The Ocelot carefully backed off, still on edge as all sights continued to follow her every move. Selvo spoke up, "Hmmph, your bourgeois pretentions don't impress me in the least. As you said, if it weren't for your greed and disloyalty to the New State, none of what's gone down in Magnifico would have happened!" Oberto dusted off his suit, "Now, although I would be only too happy to take all the credit, I wouldn't have sprung you all and brought you here if it weren't for a little concern that overshadows our rivalries, that being this Tomasi wench shooting her guns off in Magnifico and causing a general mess of things. Now, none of you might like me, but I don't think you have many other viable options if your common interest is to suppress Horizontalism. So what do you say, guys and gal? Do we shake on it or what?"

The Ocelot could barely suppress her offense at Oberto's suggestion, "You expect me... To form common cause... With a toad like him?" She pointed to indicate Selvo, "I've spent my whole life fighting monsters like Selvo. We may have been dealt the same hand by that crazy witch and the circus she's running in the city, but I would sooner die than stoop to joining forces with reprobates like him... Or you, for that matter!" Oberto nonchalantly shrugged off the Ocelot's aura of disdain, "Well, that's your choice then, but ask yourself... Can you really stand apart from 'the likes of us' on a matter of principle when the Horizontalists are hacking apart the innocent with the guilty, left and right? You might not trust me, and granted, I've not given you much reason to... aside from the whole, you know, saving your hash and all that... But certainly I must at least represent the lesser evil in your book..." The Ocelot scowled at Oberto as she silently considered the proposition over again in her mind, "I'm going to need a shower just for saying this... But a coordinated front... For the very limited objective of restoring order... Might be a necessity for now. And besides, you do hold all the chips... and the guns... right now."

Desi Falco, who has not spoken so much as a word since they were busted from city jail, asserted his own viewpoint, "All these... causes... And alliances... It all seems to hollow and pointless from where I sit. My whole life, I was taught to believe that Andreas Bombardone was the spiritual father of the whole nation, that he was an essentially beneficent, good, and wise figure who had the solutions to all our problems... Then I saw... This 'solution' amounted to comfortable slavery for the many and brutal oppression for a few. My name has been defiled... Stolen to support a cause I never fully comprehended, or else I would never have agreed with it... My image has been distorted... My face is no longer my own... And I've committed so very many sins in my cowardice... That I never begin to do penance for. And you've brought me here to front yet another noble-sounding cause, some movement to 'change the world'... Sorry, I've woken up and smelled the coffee... You, Bombardone, Tomasi even... You all come down to the same bottom line... You're all snake-oil salesmen... I don't know how to fix the world... I don't know how justice can be done... All I know is that I deserve to die, and I had come to terms with the fate awaiting me before you came over and swooped me from it... So thanks, but no thanks, pal."

Selvo hunched over and virtually hissed at Desi, "You're right! You do deserve to die for your lack of patriotism... For your nauseatingly putrid, unromantic soul. If you cannot see the inherent honor that is to serve the fatherland unto death, then you are a spineless worm, unfit to breathe the same air as the rest of us. Only in fighting, sacrifice, death... can the moral value be redeemed of which a man's life consists. The New State made you into a symbol of greatness... a hero... And yet you spurn the New State?! Ingrate!" Ocelot broke in, "It always astonishes me how many dupes like you Bombardone, Vitale, and Del Tuono have miseducated to subscribe to this rubbish. You worship the nation and the state as if there were nothing beyond. You state with total earnestness that the measure of man is the measure of their sacrifice and servitude... An ideal fit to transform a population of free men and women into drones for some ungodly leviathan... Yet you imagine that to submit totally to the nation and the state make you more than what you are, when you've become less. You routinely express the audacity to accuse others of being 'subhuman,' when you barely know what it is to be human already!"

Oberto righted his chair, waiting for the shouting match to cool down, and gestured for one of his goons to provide another bottle of champagne. Meanwhile, the Ocelot continued, turning her attention back to Desi, "I don't know the full extent of what you've done. You've only alluded to it while we were locked up together, on the rare occasions you decided to speak to me. I do know about the propaganda campaign surrounding you outside of Magnifico, but that doesn't matter! From what I've heard, you've realized the truth, and that's the first step on the road to improving yourself. But you'll never get anywhere by just throwing up your hands and giving up on life like this! It's pathetic, and reduces your potential to irrelevancy. Once I was in your shoes, in the sense that I was broken and didn't know if it was worth going on living... But I did find a reason to live! I found a reason to fight on, that was all my own! If you distrust mountebanks with 'causes' to sell you on, then that's good! Think independently and seek out your own path! Find an ideal that's all your own to fight for!" Desi was dumbstruck by the passion in the Ocelot's speech. Once more he was without words, but not for lack of motivation... The seeds had been planted in the mind of Desi Falco for something new to grow there.

Oberto interrupted, after briefly checking his watch, "That's very inspiring, you know, but something quite extraordinary is bound to happen in 15 seconds and I advise that you all cover your ears and shield your eyes. Cheers!" While these words were said, Oberto donned a pair of shades and a set of earmuffs. Immediately after the last word fled Oberto's mouth, the Magnifico Perimeter Wall exploded into fragments of debris, emitting a light and sound that could be seen and heard for miles around.

Even 5 miles away from the perimeter wall, the sound and light of the massive series of explosions that destroyed one segment of it caused Ocelot, Desi, and Selvo to experience sensory overload for a minute or around. Oberto's mercenaries moved out at that exact instant, expecting it as a cue to initiate their invasion strategy. Assault helicopters took off into the air. Mechanized units deployed. And motorized infantry rolled out, with New English soldiers of fortune armed to the teeth closing in on the area of the breach. Oberto began speaking even before his three "guests" regained their faculties of hearing, "-you hear me? You have important roles to play here to make sure this operation goes off smoothly. Ocelot, you know that I know that you have armed cells operating out of the city. Your job is to rally these and converge on the financial district. Selvo, your assignment will be to rally the remaining police officers to supplement my forces and assist in re-establishing order in Horizontalist-occupied areas. And as for you, Falco, you can... uh..." Oberto was momentarily at a loss. He had anticipated Desi Falco's demise in the middle of Scaglietti's catastrophic bombing run, and while intrigued sufficiently by the knowledge of Desi's survival that he had arranged for his release from Horizontalist captivity with the rest, did not really have any further use for Desi in his plot. "You can... go along with Ocelot, I suppose," Oberto decided. Really, he just wanted Desi out of his hair at this time.

Desi inquired, "What about you?" In response, Oberto let out a long winding laugh and caught his breath, "I thought your new lady friend figured that out for the whole lot of you! I'm going to sit here, drink champagne, and enjoy the fireworks!" Oberto burst out into more laughter as Desi slowly turned away with a disgusted look on his face. Desi and Ocelot were directed by the mercenaries, supplied with firearms and ammunition, and summoned to join them in one of the transport vehicles before it sped off towards the breach in the perimeter wall. Selvo was taken off and similarly prepared by another group of mercenaries. The sector of Magnifico to the gaping hole in the wall was a comparatively modest residential district, but for now, it was a battleground for the most vicious, concentrated bouts of violence in what was about to go down in Ridnezite history as the (Second) Battle of Magnifico. The unique quality of this struggle was that both groups of combatants were primarily comprised of individuals who had only a short time before been subjected to the same oppression under the yoke of Zendirism. That commonality ought to have mitigated the cruelties inflicted between the rival factions, but in fact, the gruesome horrors of war traded in during this battle were roughly equivalent to the savagery that the Horizontalists and Zendirists engaged in when the former had first launched their takeover bid of the city. More than a few of these combatants had cause to wonder what the point was of their hostilities at this juncture; at first, the only guarantee they had been offered was a chance at humanity and at freedom. To seize the light of day was their only objective. But now, the situation had been considerably muddied by the complex realities of geopolitical struggle. As those who ought to have stood side by side as brothers instead emptied clips into each other and fell by the dozen, thoughts about the futility of the endless killing found an unspoken general consensus among the front lines. But sadly, so long as no clemency could be expected from the enemy, then whatever the reason, whatever the cause, whatever the effect, it remained a fundamental instinct to do whatever was necessary to preserve one's own existence. The fight then was once again about nothing but raw survival. Leaders could trade in ideals for all that it made a difference.

Though the violence remained most concentrated at the zone of the breach, at interminable, bloody hours passed, it began to spread inwards until it could be felt everywhere in the city to some degree. Adriana Tomasi, on the other hand, was in the financial district to pass judgement over the deposed mayor at the time that the perimeter wall was shattered. Far from the immediate focus of the bloodshed, Adriana hurried to city hall, the hub of her group's operations, in order to demand answers from within her circle. "What happened at the perimeter wall?! No, even better, tell me who did that to the perimeter wall, and how!" A functionary nervously spoke up, "It appears that the invaders are not associated with the Armed Forces, but represent the threat made by the CDEF cartel to take this city for themselves." Adriana's brow furrowed, "It figures. It's as I said. The capitalists were our true enemies all along. What protocols have been innovated in anticipation of this eventuality? Don't tell me that this caught you all by complete surprise!" The same functionary responded again, "Well, per your directives, Comrade Tomasi, 'block watch' groups have been convened from the most committed of our Horizontalist revolutionaries, each of which has been entrusted with all general policing activities for a given area of the urban landscape. Theoretically, the block watch groups closest to the area of the breach would have formulated autonomous defensive strategies and coordinated these with one another to produce a more 'synergistic' response to the incursion." Adriana groaned to herself in apparent dissatisfaction, "Comrades, it is imperative that we issue a full-scale mobilization of every true Horizontalist revolutionary to mount a counter-attack. Only with a singular orientation to our tactical movements can victory be achieved for the Collective! There is disunity in fragmentation! But together, we can smash Oberto and his cronies! We can and we will!"

Imperial Senate Building, Vocryae, Jocospor

Andreas Bombardone was attending to the pile of paperwork sitting upon his desk in the presidential offices of the ISB. Over the past several days, a considerable backlog of diplomatic communiques and requests demanding his attention have sprung up, some of which concerned the foreign policy of Ridnez. Bombardone sounded his occupational stress off of De Marco, "The Senator of Regna Loreau and the talking horse have submitted a motion to the Imperial Senate to renovate the Confederation's fleets. I had hoped that our ally from Hellslayer would have made public his own proposal prior to this. We've scarcely begun to enact our legislative program, and for this interruption to occur with everything else going on..." Bombardone clutched at a faxed message that had been lying on his desk for 2 weeks, "For Agustín's sake, look at this! 'WE ARE A GROUP OF TEENAGERS WHO BELIEVE IN YOUR CAUSE AND WANT HELP TO OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT AND RID THE MILITARY OF ITS POWER. PLEASE SEND HELP.' This was sent to us from an unknown location out of The Dixie Confederate Union. Now why would these punks assume that Ridnez would have any interest in lending them support, and better yet, why would they assume that an important head of state could be swayed by the most ambiguous way of requesting it? Now here's a more recent one, a telegram from a new Confederation member state called Pamero, extending a formal request for diplomatic relations. Does anyone outside my country have any idea what's happening there? Ridnez cannot spare the luxury of receiving an embassy from another country while her major cities are burning as we speak!"

De Marco pushed up on the bridge of his glasses before giving his input, "Excellency, it may be possible that many of these governments are befuddled by the rather spectacular nature of the quagmire that has engulfed our homeland as of late. As opposed to the more recent civil war in Golden Impirial Utopia. whose participating factions and their goals are rather cut-and-dry, and which according to their government sources is already being pushed to its denouement, the conflict in Ridnez has only continued to grow messier and more chaotic with time. Also, note that the GIU Civil War has been turned into a proxy war for various groups such as the Loreauans. Both for economic reasons and reasons contingent upon perceptions of Ridnezite culture and society, intervention in our domestic shake-up have been comparatively limited." Bombardone growled under his breath, "Comparatively, yes. Not that this had stopped that damned New English troll from meddling in affairs which he can scarcely comprehend." Bombardone stops briefly to pour out a glass of cognac before continuing, "The New State only consented to join the League of Prosperous Nations because the government of Daulmark had pulled strings to remove us from the Omsk Treaty Organization. Neither the feeble class particularism of the latter or the rapacious materialism of the former suited Zendirist ideology very well. That is why we are so fortunate that The Xaviet Empire has taken us up on our offer of alliance. So few other states are so well-aligned with our principles."

De Marco inquired, "And what of our other allies, Hellslayer and The Union of Cryptonnia?" Bombardone grimaced, "For reasons that I cannot begin to appreciate, Hellslayer's leaders have decided to arrange a marriage between one of their own and one of the sapient horses of MineLegotia and Equestria. This act goes against everything which the Temple of Umbra stands for, breeding lesser creatures with superior specimens. Part of this, I imagine, could be attributed to a gulf in understanding between the Hellslayer demons and our Zendirist branch of the Temple. In Hellslayer, arcane airs are abound; the inhabitants regard themselves as something other than the human race, it seems. Their interest in Project: Nyx was probably similar to their motivation for arranging this abomination -- They revel in perversity for its own sake. But in Ridnez, the Temple of Umbra is less a true church and more an esoteric fraternity mixed with a eugenics society. The entire goal for the New State's role in the creation of the Temple is inextricably linked to the Zendirist striving to pursue human advancement through mastery of the natural forces. Still, something of the Hellslayerian approach must retain its validity, since Project: Nyx is operational, and the core component of the system was developed on their end. It's a pity that I could not dissuade Balthazar Sturm from polluting his stock with those... animals... Ugh!"

Bombardone finished the cognac and began pouring another glass as he continued to elaborate, "As for Cryptonnia, the Chuikov regime possesses a potential for Ridnez to assert a beachhead on the Noskyavian continent, but there has been a near-total communication blackout on their end since the meatpuppet of Ricci's sadists helped them to depose their monarchy and usurp power. What scant interactions I've had with their Senator Polk have revealed that they are somewhat... confused... about their position right now. Conflicting information and reports of rival factions that I can't make heads or tails of." Bombardone takes a swig and goes on, "Maybe the confusion is all Polk's, in which case General Chuikov should appoint another representative for his country to the Imperial Senate. I sincerely hope that their lack of responsiveness is not indication that the Cryptonnian military feels they can simply ignore our contribution... Once the Ridnez situation is stabilized, we will be once more a dreadful enemy to spurn..." Bombardone finished his second glass and slams it on the table. De Marco gave another of impression of his, "At least there is one silver lining in all this. The Daulmarkian Socialist People's Republic has neglected to send material support to those Ziconean freaks running rampant in Magnifico. Furthermore, there are rumors that their premier Novikov has an interest in smoothing relations over with our government and the Xaviet state. Perhaps, if you would permit me to offer a suggestion, you had misjudged them during the Vocryae incident months back...?" Bombardone gave his own opinion, "More likely is that ever since Count Schneider and I have sealed our partnership in the National-Totalitarian Unity-Pact, the Daulmarkian socialists are angling diplomatically to ensure that our energies are expended against the League of Prosperous Nations first. The Eurasian government's recent change in foreign policy indicates that perhaps the Omsk Treaty Organization feels that their interests would be better served by stepping into the background for a while. If so, fine by me. The main geostrategic threats to Ridnez at present are the Powers monarchy across the Golden Sea, and all the other petty war-profiteers across Usea who think that a divided Ridnez would better serve the end of filling their coffers. Besides, the socialist brothel that the Omsk Treaty Organization has degenerated into already has its work cut out for it to repel the incursions of the fourth faction formed by the Loreauans and their allies among the horse-people. As you have always known, we Ridnezites take a very dim view of the MineLegoEquestrian empire. Its parliamentary façade, mongrelized population groups, and disgusting working conditions fill me with the deepest revulsion. But there is one thing that I cannot take away from them: Their people are reliable to act only in the interests of the most practical considerations." De Marco clarifies, "You're saying that the horse-people are more pragmatic than most of the human nations?" Bombardone folds his fingers on his desk and grins before he offers a reply, "I'm saying that they will never look down a bribe."

Unknown

King Maximus Powers is considered to be the face and one of the most powerful people within the nation of New England Incorporated, if he grew tired or bored of a Gentleman or a Gentlelady then he could simply order the nearest Gentleguard within the room to throw them out of the nearest window on a whim. However, despite how much it annoys him so, even the Great Maximus Powers has to take a select few individuals within the nation seriously, and right now these select people are currently not very amused.....

"Mr. Powers....I hope you already know why you're here today, you had your fun, now its going to cost you." Thirteen figures were sat around a large, very expensive wooden table within an equally large and expensive room. At one end of the conference like table sat no other than King Powers himself, who at this current moment was slinking down at his rather luxurious seat, the King was attempting to avoid eye contact with a silvery blonde woman at the other end of the table who was currently shooting daggers at him with her furious grey eyes. The King internally glowered as he reluctantly made eye contact with the woman and the eleven other individuals at the table. All of them were considered the elite of the elite, the royal of royals, the aristocraciest of the aristocracy. These wealthy and prestigious men and women formed C.R.O.W.N, The Council of Royal Overseers of Wealthy Notoriety. The figurehead of Crown was no other than Sir Victoria Moriarty Langsdale Invicta Hopesley, the matriarch of the Hopesley family, the same family that has their fingers in almost 80% of the Arms manufacturing sector.
The Hopesley family was around before the founding of New England INC, going all the way back to when Old England was first formed. A similar story could be said about the eleven other figures at the table, suffice to say, they are the last group that you would want to p*ss off.

"Well, are you going to answer me or just keep staring at me like a bloody fool?" Sir Hopesley asked, her tone stern, the monocle resting on her right eye reflecting off the light. King Powers sighed quietly to himself before clearing his throat and answering "Apologises Sir Hopesley and the table, the football might've gotten slightly out of hand...." The table looked between each other sullenly, whilst Hopesley simply scoffed.
"A live TV shootout against the fans of the New French Corporation (LLC), combined with the gigantic worm attack, finished with an intervention from M.I.S.S is not an event that gets 'a little out of hand'."

"We did get a lot of ticket revenue from the event....and we did end up win-." Powers begun to justify before being cut off by Victoria slamming her palms onto the table and standing up. "ENOUGH! Time after time you have caused international embarrassment with these stupid schemes that your loyal dogs go along with! Its time to think Maxwell, don't get me started about the CSB article published about you which billions of investors and shareholders read!" She produces a newspaper and holds it up with a single white silked gloved hand, she then slides it cleanly across the large table stopping right in front of the King as he reads the title.

'PP dubs CDF "Waste of Money"'

"This stubbornness of yours will be your downfall, these mistakes....these ideas....Crown will not tolerate it! Who do you think allowed the civil war that created New England INC to begin with? Perhaps my father made a mistake.....perhaps we should try again, do you comprehend Powers?" The Matriarch raised her eyebrow as she sat down again, a deafening silence filling the room.

"I comprehend Sir Hopesley...I again apologise deeply to you and the table.....have you noticed that every organisation around here has some sort of convoluted acronym?" The King Questioned after a tense silence, the question which seemingly lifted some tension from the room after the threat, was answered by Hopesley. "You made it into law when you first came into power, 'All organisations are required to have an acronym summarising their organisation.', we were formerly known as the Knights of the round table. That reminds me, when was the last time you Knighted someone? No, luring your enemies in with the ceremony and proceeding to attack them with a sword doesn't count."

"Well....-"

"That reminds me again, a lot of problems to bring up surprise surprise...what were you thinking when you sent a mercenary force into Ridnez to create unrest and why the devil did you hire those CrowContract idiots?"Hopesley questioned as all eyes of the council were back on the King, who was at the current moment chocking on his own words.

"WAIT, WHAT?!"

New England INC's South Usean Raj, 12:00AM

A lone vessel drifts along the dark ocean heading into the Golden sea, even from here you could see the bright spotlights and flashy casino's from the Raj on the left and the ominous glow of conflict from Ridnez on the right. The sleek vessel had the similarities of a Destroyer and as it tilted towards the Raj's coast, the fake neon lighting lit up the destroyers grey hull and its owner, which in bold white had N.E.I.R.D painted across its broadside. As the sounds of cheering and chants echoed from rowdy tourists and even rowdier Rajians, a tall figure dressed in NEIRD's combat uniform was at the front of the ship having a phone call.

"Listen here Notorious, the crew is to remain on the ship at all times, if one of them were to step foot onto that tourist trap we'll never see them again, and getting personnel that can operate maritime machinery is not cheap...the vessel was expensive enough." Director A chided, his voice seemingly more annoying over the phone than in person, Notorious noted to himself as he mindlessly murmured in agreement as he took in the sights of the so called entertainment capital for all tourists and citizens alike. By face value the Raj has it all Gambling, Games, Girls and all. This neon city has been the number one tourist destination from decades, however, Notorious knew better....behind the mask of glamour the South Usean Raj also serves as New England INC's main manufactory of raw resources and finalised goods alike. All that smog and dark smoke was cleverly hidden behind the city of glamour, hence why its called the Golden Sea I suppose.

"Are you even listening to me?!" The Director's voice snapped the Commander out of his train of thought."Never mind, just meet up with the Crow and pay some damn attention to him, he's a good friend of mine." On that note the Director hung up, leaving Notorious to stew in his thoughts again as the vessel made its way to the designated docks. As the ship made the necessary protocols to dock, Notorious made note of his surroundings. Straight away he could tell that this were a private dock based upon the scant number of ships being docked, it isn't cheap to stay docked in a public dock for an hour at the Raj, let alone buying out an entire dock, just how much funding was the Crow receiving for this?

Notorious let out a long sigh before marching down the long ramp towards the sturdy ground of the dock. The area around his side of the dock was dark and empty, the only sources of light coming from the ship and the buildings in the distance. That was until Notorious was blasted by a pair of headlights, forcing him to squint ahead at the three figures standing in front of a car."If it was anybody but you, they would be dead by now! Hah ha!"The tall middle figure called out as Notorious made his way towards them. "Its been a long time Captain Crow or is it Commander Crow now?" Commander Crow smirked to himself before retorting back. "It has indeed Sgt Dave Notorious or do you go by Commander Notorious these days?" The two men now stood face to face, Crow being the taller of the two. Notorious looked at the man standing before him and noted that if Crow and the Director were to stand next to each other they would look pretty indistinguishable from each other. They were both tall, lanky, pale and annoying the only difference being is that Commander Crow wore an hideous gas mask and a smug officers cap to show the world who was boss around here.

"It seems that my boss is also your boss as well Notorious, small world huh?"

"I doubt that was a coincidence Crow."

The two men looked at each other with a few beats of tense silence before Crow laughed again and slapped Notorious on the side of his arm. "Come, I will bring you to our base of operations." He said as they got into his car, leaving the ship in the distance.

It must've been the longest twenty minutes of Notorious's life as they finally arrived at the building. He would've even considered the journey awkward as with what he assumed were Crow's goons sitting in complete silence the entire time, but instead he was treated with Crow flapping his mouth off for twenty minutes bragging about the full extend of CrowContract operations and so forth, by the end of it Notorious tuned out the man so much he had to get nudged to return him back to reality. Notorious was led through the entrance of a rather inconspicuous building, Notorious initially thought the man was leading them through the wrong building until he encountered several hardened mercenaries that looked like they wanted to bite his head off.

"and here is our command room, every single one of my men stationed in Ridnez can communiqué with us here...we have several backups in case of the worse obviously. Anyways this is where a majority of the magic is happening outside of the actual battlefield, here lets head into my office and talk about old times right? Heh." Commander Crow gestured widely towards the command centre before disappearing through a metal security door. Notorious took one last glance at the CrowContract personnel operating consoles and relaying orders whilst a large active map of Magnifico, Ridnez was up on the far wall, before following after the slender figure.

A lot can be said about a man based upon his office, and based upon Crow's office, Notorious can tell where a decent chunk of NEIRD's funding went into. An expensive red carpet lined the entire floor, fancy leather chairs were neatly presented along with a bookcase at the far wall for some reason. Crow let out a sigh of relief as he leant back in his cushy leather chair and propped his feet up onto his wooden desk. He then lifted up his head slightly to see Notorious standing there, glaring at him expectantly.

"Would you care for a drink perhaps, you seem to be on edge."

"I won't be drinking with you." Notorious replied bluntly as Crow slowly took his feet off the desk and leaned forwards. "Straight to business then, hm? Very well." To the untrained ear it would seem that Crow had a clear accent associating with the King's English, however, Notorious could pick up the odd syllables here and there, he discovered this when they first met many years ago, only Crow would be stupid enough to be a Frenchman hiding in an Englishman's clothing in the name of opportunity and profit. "The Ridnez affair seems to be reaching its peak, when it does I foresee that we will be getting cosy other there for a while. I have been working with some contacts over at the industrial sector on a couple of projects based upon the possible outcomes that Allan has provided me."

"Projects?" Notorious raised a brow, the briefing he received didn't mention anything about Projects being developed.
"Oh yes David, these projects of mine are being developed by the finest and albeit slightly wanted minds of the Raj. You must see it for yourself and report it back to the Director, he will be quite impressed indeed."Even with the mask, Notorious could tell that the man had the biggest smug grin of his life. Notorious internally sighed, this was going to be a long night.

end

5 miles from the perimeter wall of Magnifico, Ridnez

As columns of fire and smoke continued to rise into the sky over the once-great city, Dominic Oberto watched the agglomeration of human bodies surrounding the breach in the perimeter wall through black binoculars. Satisfied that his plan, albeit not executed in exactly the way he had prepared, went off in some way he could manage, the corrupt businessman addressed his valet, "It appears that stage one of our little stratagem is proceeding per expectations. Tell the pilot to ready the chopper in T-5 minutes. Now that we've blown the lid off this pressure cooker, I don't want to get seared by proximity to all that heat... If you catch my drift." The valet bowed slightly as Oberto absentmindedly handed him the binoculars and responded in the affirmative, "Yes, sir, I'll see to it that you possess airborne capability forthwith." Oberto rose from his seat beneath the curtained gazebo and strolled toward the mercenary captain Hugo Hunt's tent, producing an infrastructure map from the fold of his jacket. "How goes the situation on the ground, Captain Hunt?" Hunt looked up from reports on his desk and delivered his analysis, "According to the intel we've acquired through bribery, the recorder of deeds office in city hall was rather effectively obliterated by Scaglietti's air strike, meaning that the physical backups of land records are now nothing but ashes. The only way to verify them now would be the computerized records..." Oberto chirped in, obviously pleased at the confirmation, "And those would be linked up to the grid maintained from Ridnez government headquarters in Centro Nuovo. Which means when we introduce our own software..." The captain finishes the sentence, "Right, then you can just bury the documentation and fudge the records, so long as no one else gets access to the hard drives to conduct a deep scan and retrieve the original files."

Oberto scratched his chin, his interest obviously elevated, "Hmm... And what about the infrastructure..." Oberto sets the map down on the captain's desk, "This, I have it in good confidence, shows us what the layout of all the utilities networks should look like, but how much damage did the bombs do?" Hunt pushed upwards on the rim of his cap, "Now that is an interesting question. From what intel seems to indicate, at least one of the residential districts in Magnifico suffered a blackout when one of those bombs hit a substation, but Bombardone's people seem to have thought of the possibility that utilities could be significantly disrupted by something from the sky... As it so happens, the Horizontalists have done some rather ambitious exploring of the utility tunnels spanning under the surface of Magnifico. Doing it that way, installing utilities systems through tunnel networks, makes it easier to coordinate all the infrastructure development, keeps as much of the infrastructure below ground, and minimizes maintenance costs. Problem is..." It was Oberto's turn to cut Hunt off, "Now we need to send some of our manpower into those tunnels, both to clear out the Horizontalists and to... Well, as far as the public's got to know... That's all you'll have done... How much of your forces versus our 'emancipated' wretches are caught up at the breach?" Hunt tilted his head to the side with an expression betraying his mind had gone into tactical mode, "Almost all of the irregulars have been concentrated against the breach, since we figure that the Horizontalist militias would be more reluctant to shoot their fellows this way. Of course, on the flipside, our own boys have a high likelihood of getting disillusioned and fighting at less than full potential... Not that it matters so much to us... See, we use them as cannon fodder, and each one of their units is supervised by a New English squad leader whose job is to shoot any of them who hesitates or tries to run... But you see the issue with this... We're buying time with the frontal attack, but the real coup de grace will have to be staged elsewhere..." Oberto got a wicked idea in his head as he gave acknowledgement of what the captain had said, "Yes... Yes! Ocelot and the Falco kid! They'll do the heavy lifting here for us; it's genius! Don't you see how beautiful it will fall together! We'll have them-"

Elsewhere in the camp, the Ocelot and Desi Falco prepared to climb into the back of a light military utility vehicle, both looking rather uncertain. As usual, Ocelot was first to have objections, "So what, Oberto says we just get loaded up with firearms and sent unto the breach and that's it? That's a great formula for getting us killed! That's a sea of bodies out there! There's no way we're getting past that!" One of the mercenaries nudged Ocelot with the barrel of a long gun to force her in the direction of the vehicle. One of the others, chewing tobacco gum and already sitting in the vehicle, offhandedly commented without looking in Ocelot and Falco's general direction, "Why don't you just shut up, the both of you! You don't hear us whinging that we're putting our lives on the line, and besides... We're only being sent up there to keep at the rear of the cannon fodder to make sure each of 'em takes a bullet before 'e consi'ers 'is debt paid off." The mercenary outside of the vehicle put his finger to his earpiece and exclaimed as he listened in, "Clam up! I'm getting something through from the boss..." A silence hung in the air for a minute before more information was forthcoming. Finally, he spoke once more, "Alright, new orders, everybody. We're supposed to deliver our 'precious cargo' here to a specific destination outside of the city perimeters. Most of the others have received similar orders, except for the ones already at the breach." Desi probed for a rationale for this change of plans, "Any reason why the strategy has undergone a last-second revision?" The mercenary gave his reply, "Captain Hunt says concentrating all forces at the aperture in the wall didn't make good sense." This was followed by a hypocritical addition from the mercenary waiting in the vehicle, "Pff... I could'a told ya tha'." As this lackadaisical soldier of fortune went back to chewing tobacco, the Ocelot directed a very unamused glare at him.

20 minutes later

The utility vehicle came to a halt at a patch of desiccated, cracked earth around 2 miles off from the Magnifico perimeter wall, but considerably farther off from the patch of wall that had been damaged by explosives. It was fortunate for the vehicle's occupants that it was designed in New England INC with a mind for multi-terrain capacity. The driver announced to his passengers, "Alright, we're here, it seems..." Before them, covered by a thin sheet of sandy particulate, was a heavy metallic grate installed in the ground. The Ocelot recognized where they were at instantly, "One of the access ports to the utility tunnels... There's a veritable labyrinth of them beneath the city. My people once tried to make use of it to set up bases, but the security was too tight so we mostly made use of abandoned warehouses, dilapidated buildings in neglected residential areas... And a few, less convenient underground passages which were installed thanks to the reach of certain... contacts." The driver climbed out of the vehicle and elaborated on their mission, "Yeah, well, that's real great and all, but we have it on good faith that the security systems installed into these utility tunnels are offline by now. So here we go!" As the mercenary reached for the grate, Desi yelled out, "Wait!" With all eyes now on him, he was obliged to justify his outburst, "How... how can you be so sure that no security mechanism will activate and fry us all when you touch it?" The mercenary rolled his eyes for a second before he answered, "Because, hotshot... One, the Horizontalists are down there, and that means they must have bypassed the security on their own... And two, we have a guarantee from the same tech boys who arranged for the wall to blow up that all systems are offline. Now quit your bellyaching and let's get on with this... 'Sides, I thought less than an hour ago, you were pretty big on the concept of dying..." Desi offered his reply to the mean-spirited criticism, "Let's just say... That what's at stake now has become too important for me to die now..." He shot a look back at Ocelot, who matched his gaze. Whatever was in store for the two now was a risk they were committed to taking together.

"You know, when I told Oberto that I would need a shower once this was over, I didn't mean it quite like this," the Ocelot mused. Of all the utility systems that her group could have accessed, they were dispatched to make entry to a sewer. Once the whole team was underground, the unit leader divulged more details about their mission, "Alright, listen up, Magnifico has multiple discrete utility systems, each of which has been developed in its current form with the intention of limited interconnectivity. That means that not only are there access points from the surface, but there are service tunnels which have been dug into the sandstone this city rests on which permit maintenance workers to get from one system to another. At present, our other teams are entering the other systems from their own access ports outside of the city. But our mission is to get you to the surface inside the city so that you can rendezvous with the rest of your own forces... Assuming that the Horizontalists haven't gotten to them yet..." As they plodded along through the sewer network and beneath the perimeter wall, Desi made a trivial observation about their trek, "Do any of you guys wonder why it doesn't smell so bad down here? I sort of expected a sewer to be a lot worse." Ocelot humored her comrade's idle curiosity, "This isn't a sanitary sewer. It's a storm drain. Haven't you looked down to see how much clearer this water is than raw sewage... Or thought why we haven't been overcome by methyl mercaptan fumes yet?... Or why we would be down here with firearms if the whole tunnel were permeated by flammable organic gases?... It's still disgusting... Not to mention it's still too dangerous to fire a gun down here!... The resonance of the sound when the gun fires... Not to mention the strong possibility there is enough sewer gas accumulating down here to combust and cause a gas explosion..."

The unit leader piped up, "Alright, keep your shirt on! We're... ah..." The shades-wearing fellow was stunned into momentary silence at the realization of how improper the idiom he had chosen was regarding the subject, "...ah... That is... We've arrived. Behold, a service access passageway!" The man indicated a grime-encrusted door, embedded in a segment of the wall. Desi queried, "Where does it lead to?" The unit leader responded, "Well, assuming that I memorized the map accurately, it leads to the subways. Oh, and while I'm on it, here's where we part ways." The Ocelot questioned this development, "Wait, 'part ways'? I thought you were supposed to reinforce us." The unit leader took his glasses off with one hand and corrected, "Wrong! We were supposed to get you into the city so that you could contact your cells and rally them. Well, you can emerge from the subway tunnels, and we have separate orders from this point onwards." Ocelot grew suspicious, "And those 'orders' entail...?" The mercenary chuckled slightly to himself and slipped his glasses back on, "Need-to-know basis, hon. And all you need to know right now is that your target is city hall." The Ocelot's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. She clearly didn't like the secrecy of the CrowContracts boys' operational parameters, and she certainly hated doing anything the way Oberto wanted her to. She knew that Oberto did not have the best interests of the people of Magnifico at heart, but she couldn't deny -- There was a more immediate concern, and her name was Adriana Tomasi.

The subway tunnels were eerily quiet; no trains were running at a time while the entire world seemed to be up in flames. It only took 10 minutes before Ocelot and Desi reached the nearest subway station. Just as the tunnels were devoid of trains, so the station was absent of people. Fortunately, the Ocelot recognized the station as the one at the intersection of Gloria Street and Volterra Way, only a few blocks away from a safehouse hidden in the back of an old bar and club in the historic Silver Shades district of town. While the sounds of gunfire and shouting could be heard in the distance, this space was left relatively untouched by the devastation. Ocelot and Desi approached the backdoor of the building, and the former knocked lightly on the door. Within an instant, a slit opened up within the door, and the barrel of a shotgun popped through. Desi was caught off-guard by this, but Ocelot expected it and reacted appropriately, "Code-phrase is 'spearmint.'" At that, a panicked-looking man withdrew the gun, closed the slit, and opened the door, all in short order. "Jeez, we've been waiting on you for you to give us our standing orders on how to deal with... with this... None of us could have foreseen the events of the past few weeks. Where have you been?" Ocelot gave a terse yet pithy response, "Oh, I just got bombed in our base in the DRT warehouse down in the southeast side and then spent a week in a cramped jail cell waiting to get guillotined, courtesy of the psycho witch responsible for all of this..." The Ocelotist with the shotgun scratched the back of his head with his free hand, "At first, when we heard that there was a full-out revolt against the authorities in this city, we were ecstatic! But then reports starting coming in... Even non-Zendirists' heads began to roll... Meanwhile, we all wondered where you had gone to... You say that this Tomasi girl held you captive for a week and planned to kill you?"

Ocelot grabbed a trenchcoat to make herself more inconspicuous on the outside as she explained, "Adriana doesn't want justice or equality. She wants revenge, and she's developed a doctrinaire ideology to justify any action she might undertake in the way of exacting it. She doesn't just want to overthrow Zendirism or advance civil rights; she's become fanatically bent on coercing everyone else to submit to her preferred mode of living, or cause them to cease to live entirely. And needless to say, the longer this carnival of blood is allowed to continue, the more irreparable damage to our cause is done in the process. It was irresponsible for none of you to act autonomously in my absence. We have a mission upon us now, and that is to seize control of key strategic areas to asserting our hold on the city. The old emergency protocols that we developed in the case of a last-ditch fight with the Zendirist police forces have to go into effect now, even if the enemy has unexpectedly changed and operates differently than the one those plans were projected to counter. Get the word out to the other cells. This is war." With that, the Ocelotist safehouse manager affirmed these orders to his subordinate, "You heard the lady! Give the command! They all should have these protocols seared into the backs of their minds like it was the backs of their hands!" The man who was tasked with maintaining underground radio communications with the other Ocelotist cells gave a quick nod, adjusted his broadcasting frequency, and declared into his headset microphone, "Ocelot has given the order! Battle plans alpha, beta, and gamma must commence at once! Target has changed from military and police units to Horizontalist militias! Do you copy?" As cells hidden in disused and abandoned facilities distributed throughout the city of Magnifico spent unequal amounts of time to process and acknowledge the order, the Ocelot headed back outside. Desi inquired about the Ocelot's actions, "What about us? Where are you going?" Ocelot turned back as she opened the door to the outside and paused for a moment before speaking, "You'll all have your parts to play, to be sure. I just have one stop I have to make first."

5 minutes later and a short walk away

The Ocelot opened the door belonging to what was once a small charitable medical clinic in a section of the city traditionally inhabited by sympathizers to the Ocelotist cause. However, like much of Magnifico as of late, it had fallen into an eerily silent ruin, as citizens huddled in their apartments, fearful of Horizontalist terror. The bulk of Horizontalist revolutionaries were concentrated elsewhere, to counteract the density of the invading force pressing the breach in the perimeter wall, which expedited the Ocelot's journey by foot to a considerable degree. The nurse-receptionist who usually attended to the lobby of the clinic was ducked behind her counter, but she reacted to the Ocelot's entry with trepidation of encountering another looter who piggybacked the Horizontalist bandwagon: "I-If you came looking for drugs... We don't have any! You've already depleted our entire supply of opiates, so just go away!" The Ocelot's voice tipped this individual off and relieved inflamed nerves, "Easy, Theresa! It's just me. I've come to check up on the patient I brought to Dr. Anzano a few weeks ago." The nurse Theresa stood up from behind the counter, as if unwilling to believe her ears and needing additional corroboration from her eyes. She then gave an uncertain response, "Uh... Th-The doctor has been seeing to your patient, but... I'm afraid we don't have the materials at present to address his condition properly... Perhaps you'd prefer to speak to him yourself..." Theresa then led the Ocelot to what appeared to be a small exam room. With the press of a button, a false wall rose into the ceiling, revealing row upon row of sick beds, many of them occupied. It was necessary for Dr. Anzano to disguise the true nature of his practice in order to evade government regulations, which would never have permitted him to extend care and shelter to many escaped slaves who had made it past the perimeter wall prior to the Horizontalist uprising. Dr. Anzano was attending to the patient with whom the Ocelot was concerned: Sebastian Esposito, a soldier under her command who suffered injury to his leg when the Aerospace Force bombed the city.

The Ocelot saw from a glance that Sebastian was semi-conscious but in extreme pain. Nevertheless, she had to ask, "I wish I could stay longer, but I must be brief. Just tell me. How is he, Doctor?" Dr. Anzano removed his glasses from his face and cleaned them with a kerchief as he anxiously formulated a response, "I regret to inform you, dear friend... Ever since those hooligans exploded out from the vertical garden area, this clinic has suffered just as badly as the rest of Magnifico. Goons extorted morphine and opiates from us in exchange for not turning us over to this 'Adriana Tomasi' person as 'bourgeois counter-revolutionaries' or whatever she's on about. And cut off from the usual methods of acquiring prescription drugs and medical equipment, it's about all I can do to feed these people and keep them alive with the meager supplies I have left. Your friend, I'm sad to say, can't keep the leg. It will have to get amputated soon... Or the gangrene will spread elsewhere and threaten his life through necrosis... I'm sorry." The Ocelot rested her hand upon the half-rail of Sebastian's sick bed and looked upon him, "No, Doctor... I'm sorry that I couldn't have come back sooner to deal with this. All of my men, all those who have thrown in their lot with me along the line, are my responsibility. Knowing what I know now only gives me another reason..." Dr. Anzano placed his glasses back upon his face and ventured a question, "If you don't mind humoring a man of advanced years, would you mind clarifying that sentence?" The Ocelot gave a curt reply as she walked to the front of the clinic, "What's to clarify?" The physician folded his arms and rephrased his query, "Well, you said that you now have 'another reason'... 'Another reason' to do what?" Ocelot briefly stopped to face the man and provided her answer, "To come back alive."

The Restored First Republic of Ridnez

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