Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0
Aves

Love Triangle

11 posts in this topic

SWAT VALLEY

Commander Cho, Commander Ford's replacement in the Swat Valley, had organized a meeting with the New Burland side. Pandion had caught smugglers once against heading to New Burland with alcohol, and New Burland apparently took this very seriously. "Where are they, Chief?"

Chief, the centralized communications officer located in Pandion City, was quiet. Swat Valley had always been a terrible place for communications. Pandion was going to soon set up remote military communications in the area, but for the time being they were riding solo. Cho was with two other officers, who were waiting with him.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The military truck rumbled along the dirt track, carrying ten passengers.

In the passenger seat, Tetrarch Jansen was staring at a map illuminated by torchlight. The plan was proceeding, Jansen's team had ambushed a group of drunken New Burland troopers not too far from here. The most sober one told him, after some "coercion" that they were scheduled to meet with a small team of Pandionan soldiers. Jansen then slit his throat, ordered his team to don the New Burland uniforms, and load up into a truck sporting Burland insignias.

"Sir. Looks like our guys." the driver said.

Jansen looked up, and saw a trio in the distinctive Pandion uniform. He turned his head, addressing his team "Show time. Let me do the talking."

The truck pulled to a stop, Jansen pulling himself out of the vehicle. The rest of his unit piled out behind him, guns drawn. Jansen walked over to the one who looked to be in charge, and gave the New Burland style salute. The Tetrarch hated it, but it was part of his job.

Edited by Beauregard

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Commander Cho waved the hand motion that ordered his other officers to raise their weapons; they promptly did. The number of men, far more than indicated, ensured that the Pandion soldiers moved their rifle settings to automatic.

"Guns drawn, Burlander? I'm going to assume you're new and your superiors didn't warn you that Pandion conducts all relations without open weapons. Please put away your weapons, and know that any aiming of weapons towards our persons will result in an immediate opening of fire, even before you fire yourselves. Your superiors must not have told you about the two times your lack of weapons knowledge ended up getting a man killed. I hope to avoid the incident. Lower your weapons and put them away, and we will do the same."

Meanwhile, a hundred yards away, the smugglers had managed to nearly fray the rope around their arms. The Pandion soldiers weren't expecting to catch any smugglers and had to make do with rope.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Jansen wanted to tear this uppity little man limb from limb. However his training kicked in, and held up a hand. "Whoa, hold on now." He nodded at his men and women, who carefully pointed their weapons at the ground. Jansen smiled "Forgive me, but this is a dangerous area, no? The natives are a little restless you know, haha. They don't know a good deal if it hit them in the face."

The Tetrarch turned away from the group and stared up at the mountains in the distance. He needed them to lower their guard, at least a little, an extra second was all his people would need. "I understand you have some smugglers for us? ********ing vultures, the lot of 'em."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Weapons away," he repeated, but he mirrored the action of lowering the aim to the ground. After a moment - "The smugglers are secure. Come on." The trio lowered their weapons and half-turned to walk to their vehicles hidden a good distance away.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Jansen's team was led to the Pandionan vehicles. Jansen though about dropping them when they had turned away, but the mention of the smugglers themselves had aroused his interest. Their commander was good, competent and smart, much better than the New Burland rabble he had introduced himself to before.

As the Commander led the way, Jansen thought about his mission within the lands surrounding New Burland. Night raids on isolated outposts, bombing of railway tracks and one hilarious incident where his team had stumbled upon a significant stash of alcohol hidden at a Burland outpost. After killing most of the soldiers, Jansen had a survivor held down, grabbed a few bottles, closed his nose shut and proceeded to drown the man in his own booze. He chuckled at the thought.

"Bring them out." Jansen looked up, they were here.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

[OOC: I hope you don't mind "hijacking" your guys slightly, I was hoping to wrap this part up anyway.]

As the smugglers were brought out, one of Jansen’s female troopers spoke up, putting a slightly drunken slur in her speech.

“I still say we oughta’ just shoot ‘em, sir.”

The Tetrarch turned away from the Pandionian soldiers and gave the woman a false look of annoyance, “Private, we’ve been over this. I take orders too and those orders say we need these bastards alive.”

“Why? They’ll just be locked up somewhere, three meals a day…”

“We’re being paid to do a job, Private…” this time with emphasis on rank. The Pandionans just looked on aghast at the apparent lack of discipline; this crap wouldn’t fly in their military.

“Yeah, because your judgement has been so great in the past”

“You know I really want to come over there and…”

“That was our first leave in a year! Wasted!”

“Well you know what? You’re arguing over two-minute ********ing noodles!”

“It’s not about the noodles; it’s about your lack of respect for other people’s property!”

“You want some of this, you ********? Then come get it!”

The female trooper advanced face full of fury, towards Jansen and the Pandionans behind him, and looked like she was going to take a swing at him. They dropped their rifles at the same time, pulling out their sidearms- Jansen having to swing 180 degrees- and aimed at the surprised Pandionian trio. Citizen caste soldiers were superbly trained, quick thinkers and utterly ruthless. Three sharp cracks, three bullets shattering the bone just below the knee. Their targets collapsed to the ground screaming.

The rest of Tetrarch Jansen’s team rushed in, kicking away the trio’s dropped weapons. The smugglers and two of the officers were cuffed and hauled to their feet. The remaining man sporting the Pandion insignia, the leader, was also hauled to his feet, his arms held by two of Jansen’s men.

Jansen, now free to discard his false personality, now had a look only his country could have. A sense of smug superiority and utter contempt for this feral in his grasp. This man may have had a family back home, a degree in something or another, a hobby or sport. Now, Jansen could do anything he wanted with this person, he was now nothing more than a tool, to be used at their new master’s whim.

Jansen’s eyes bored into his captives, his voice cold, demanding. “Forgive the theatrics, Commander, but we were not expecting you to have guests.” He said, eyes darting towards the terrified smugglers. “They will make fine serfs back home, I’m sure of it. Not you however, oh no we have something special planned for you my good man.” He paused, made a mocking surprised face. “How rude of me not to introduce myself. Senior Tetrarch Thomas Jansen, Second Citizen Regiment,” and he said the last words with particular relish, “Dominate of Drakia.”

Jansen stood up, towering over the Pandionan. “We only need this man, spike the others.” The team hauled away the smugglers, but the two officers remained. His unit began digging two small holes in the ground, more deep than wide, hauled two logs slightly taller than the ones carrying them. They pulled out knives and began chipping away at the ends until they looked sharp enough to cut through a Main Battle Tank. One end was thrust into the ground, until it looked like a morbid flagpole, now it only needed a “flag”.

For the remaining captives, the realization slowly dawned. Jansen spoke again now sporting a sadistic smile.

“Yes, not exactly a method even we enjoy doing, but hey, if something works, why not roll with it?

This is a world where only the strongest will emerge triumphant. We are not doing this out of some fancy religion or manifest destiny, Commander. We do this because we can. Because competition weeds out the weak, and those who survive do so by luck, chance or what-have-you. If you are not among the strong, Commander, then you are only useful in service to those who are more deserving of this world."

With a nod of his head, the Tetrarch’s men hauled the other two prisoners towards the two sharpened stakes. He had seen it been done before, but once was more than enough. Jansen turned away as the impalement began.

Twenty minutes later, the New Burland truck was on the move again.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The two soldiers decided they would rather take the painful way out than use their suicide pills, and died their honorable deaths.

Commander Cho fell back on the Mute, the protocol that states simply that under no circumstances will he talk with his captors, even to save his own life. He would simply wait in silence until they arrived at their destination.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Weeks later, a white nondescript truck drove up to a Pandionian border post. Driving nearly up to the gate, the truck did a quick U-turn, back doors flinging open. Two figures wearing ski masks threw out a dark green bodybag, shutting the door behind them. The truck sped off again into the distance before the border guards could react.

There was a note attached to the bag, "Return to Sender".

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The border guards, seeing a white, nondescript truck drive from the border which had recently seen the deaths of two men, the abduction of another, and reports of a massacre of their neighbors (including with the reports of stolen trucks), inflated remotely-deployed spike strips that were layered in several rows behind the truck; as the truck made a sudden jolting movement instead of stopping, the anxious guards quickly peppered the truck with two magazines worth of bullets, and watched as the truck popped all of its tires in an attempt to move away. Two of the guards got into an all-terrain vehicle, with a full gas tank, and sped up to either chase the now crippled truck or to go ahead in distance so the men inside of the truck, presumably wounded, couldn't run.

The station radioed men out in the field to converge on the the border station, and headquarters back in Pandion were alerted. The entire station's complement of soldiers (sans a skeleton crew) was ready and aiming their weapons at the truck if it were there or getting in additional vehicles, while another man moved the bodybag to a room designed for explosives detonations.

The men in the truck were warned in several languages via loudspeaker that they would be arrested if they did not turn the truck off, and step out without their weapons.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Stop the truck and come out with your hands up!"

The voice on the loudspeaker repeated this in several languages, none of which Decuiron Alicia Gordon recognized. She swore, urging the truck to keep moving, but the spike strips from white christ only knows where had them going maybe 2 kph. The truck eventually slowed to a stop. Gordon turned to look at the back of the truck. There was blood everywhere, one of his team was dead and another was critically wounded. Gordon herself had been nailed through the arm and been nicked through her abdomen, but she wouldn't let that slow her down.

She crawled over to the last survivor. The man was slipping in and out of consciousness he said, struggling "You know what you have to do sir. Pleasure." Gordon nodded slowly, then raised her pistol and fired. She then crawled to the rear of the truck, sidearm in hand and kicked open the back doors. The Decurion got to her feet and beheld the site before her.

Countless soldiers and vehicles were surrounding her. Gordon spotted the guy with the speaker.

"Put the gun down and put your hands on your head!" he demanded.

Decuiron Alicia Gordon had only one reply "I don't take orders from a feral!" she screamed, before raising her pistol. Said pistol was in her right hand, the one which had been shot. As such her reaction was slow enough that a single bullet rang out, slamming into her hand and sending the sidearm flying. Gordon was sent spinning to the ground, screaming in pain. The gun was too far away now and at the corner of her vision, she could see soldiers rushing up to her.

Edited by Beauregard

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0