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The Peacock's Message
Topic Started: Aug 27 2008, 10:02 PM (425 Views)
Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
OOC- Assume that the Peacock has already been introduced (as he was supposed to in the Opening Ceremony thread)

IC-

Sartz District, Guranburg 0218 hrs, seven months after the Olympiad

It had been over half a year since the events that occured at the Games (OOC- I promise to post all this soon, bear with me), and since that action-packed month Sourdough, who was still stationed in Kasnyia as the Installation's contact with their top intelligence source known only as the Peacock, had had a quiet time since, mostly up appearances with his cover persona as the florist's nephew, Adelbert Niels. In the mean time, he had been carefully detailing his surroundings and remaining in steady contact with headquarters, updating Tulzberg, his partner and official immediate boss, with any pertinent info.

In the months he had stayed here, Sourdough had managed to gauge the situation in the former capital. He noted that after the Games, the Dominion had closed the city to outsiders, and kept the Coliseum open with daily shows, making the city into a modern Rome for the civillians too weak, young, or old to serve the military's intrests to be of use, being left to their own devices to be stupified by modern gladiatorial events, using animals and criminals from throughout Zapht's empire to provide entertainment.

Likewise, the industrial disricts became strictly off-limits (though such terms meant nothing to him or Tulzberg) to non-military personnel.

Since the end of the Games, Wilmar Reinhold, the goon put in charge of the IPIB secret police thugs that patrolled the streets, had stepped up security in general throughout the Dominion, and the regional capitals in particular. This had not yet provided any real problems, just nuissances, but it wouldn't be long before the Butcher of Guranburg had found the scent of the resistance. And then things would become interesting.

Tonight was one of those nights of inconvenience, as an IPIB agent was getting too curious for their own good, forcing Sourdough and Tulzberg to take an alternative, longer route home, which sat behind the shop. This wasn't hard, but it did make an unexpected delay in their schedule, which was never good.

Finally, they reached the house and got in, but not before Sourdough went into the shop to check the mail. It was through the mail, using intricade code language and cyphers, not to mention a great multitude of addresses, that instructions were given, as both the internet and phonelines were being monitored by the IPIB 24/7. It was merely habit by now, as 80% of the time there was no message, and even when there was, it was usually instructions from HQ rather than anything from the resistance network, which sadly had not managed to do more than get organized and know who to bribe in case of local arrest of an operative. Part of Sourdough's mission had been to change that, but thus far it was proving difficult with the secret police roving about everywhere. At last Sourdough got the mail, shuffling out the bills and the flower orders until he saw it.

Marked with an otherwise-clandestine symbol on the stamp of the letter, Sourdough knew this was a message, and from the network, which had different symbols from HQ.

Opening the message, Sourdough read it straight first,

Dear Adelbert,

The red roses you sent were most appreciated, my wife loved them. You must tell your uncle to send more sometime. I do apologize for not responding sooner but work these days has become rather busy for us all at the office. That said, I do hope you would be up for a spot of tea on the first of September? I shall be in town and I have not seen you since the Games. We would have much to discuss I'm sure of it. Do inform your father though, as I wouldn't have you going off on your own without his knowledge now would I?

Do reply soon!

Sincerely,

Thomas Pilzssen


This was indeed bad news. The message was from Pilzssen, an alias of The Peacock. That alone made the news important, but the first words, regarding 'red roses' was a message saying this was a red alert. The fact that his wife loved the roses told Sourdough that this was a level one priority message. Asking him to inform his "uncle" to send more, was a request to keep in contact for more news. His apology was worrisome as well, as that made it clear that whereever he was in the Dominion hierarchy, he was being kept very busy, which meant the Dominion was up to something big. But the biggest message of all that Sourdough understood from the letter was that Peacock was suggesting a meeting, here in Guranburg. Likely it would not be with the man himself or even a direct conversation, but regardless it would be risky, and it would be where the details of the alert would be given. Foreseeing the potential danger, the Peacock had suggested clearing the op with headquarters first.

This was big, whatever it was. Sourdough quickly went to Tulzberg in the next room and handed him the message before motioning the man downstairs to the basement, where it was secure from eavesdropping. After the resistance leader read the message, Sourdough began talking,

"What do we do? This may be time sensitive, and we can't afford to waste any with Headquarters."

"I agree, but we can't keep them in the dark either," Tulzberg replied, "We will have to quickly contact them somehow without breaking protocol."

"We'll have to split up then," Sourdough replied, "You and the network get in contact with the Director and forward this message, and I'll go ahead and meet with him on the first."

"To hell with that, tell him to come tomorrow night. If we wait until the first, who knows what might happen."

"Ugh," Sourdough exclaimed, "What happens if Peacock can't make it?"

"Tell him when you ask that if he cannot make it, send as much immediately pertinent information as possible. We'll catch the details on the first."

"And headquarters?"

"We may have to fly blind on this one, kid. I'll have a message sent out through the usual channels, but by the time they get ahold of it, it'll be the first."

"What do we do if he sends us time-sensitive info?"

"Send it through a third party if we have to. We will not break protocol, and we will not fail in delivering this info either. Time be damned."

With that, they left the basement, as Sourdough wrote a quick response,

Dear Mr. Pilzssen,

I'm happy to have recieved your letter. You think we can meet earlier? Uncle gave me the week off, and so I would love to talk to you. Of course, if you haven't the time until the first, then I will meet you on the first. That said, I have heard your wife is ill from my uncle. Could you tell me what her symptoms are? I can call my father and have him get the proper medicine to treat it.

With Love,

Adelbert


Sourdough immediately placed the note in a special envelope and sealed it, placing it in the mail to be sent out tomorrow, with expediency. After that, the field agent went to sleep. In the next 48 hours, Sourdough and Tulzberg would be running the intelligence gauntlet once again, and he would need his rest.
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
They woke up early, getting ready and equipped within the hour. After a quick breakfast at one of the local diners, which itself was an excellent treasure trove of information, with the regulars telling them that the IPIB presence was light today. They then mailed their responses to the Peacock and Headquarters respectively, then went on to a variety of hideouts to put the Resistance cells within Guranburg on alert. They may need the security later on, and it was wise to keep potential help in the loop as much as they could without endangering their position. Once finished, they went back home to form a plan for the upcoming op.

The mail was a quick and efficient service within the Dominion, inspite of the IPIB's oversight, and they figured they would get a response within 24 hours from the Peacock. When that happened, they would be ready.
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
The reply came back more promptly than Sourdough and Tulzberg could have hoped. Unlike the previous message, which was written in code, this one was done in an encryption, and though IPIB would never be able to read it, had they come across the letter, they would have known it was a secret message.

I can't meet you sooner than the first without raising eyebrows. Gassel has put the Dominion on high alert, and has ordered all factories to increase production by 200%. Gassel intends to make his move against the world within 48 hours. Target is Asia.

Tulzberg did not waste a moment, immediately getting in contact with the resistance network, to arrange for the Installation to get the information as quickly as possible. They would also try to send a transmission to Chirondom and Kiru Tao if they could figure out a way of slipping past the IPIB.

Sourdough on the otherhand couldn't help but stare at the last sentence, Target is Asia.

Target is Asia...

....my God....


-------------------------

The Internal Protection and Investigation Bureau of the Dominion's Interior Ministry had suspected an increase in resistance activity ever since that incident during the Olympiad, and had been cautious enough to get the Overwatch involved from the Intelligence Ministry to make sure no foreign hand was directly manipulating the actions inside Kasnyia. Thus far, nothing substantial had come from their investigations of the city, nor of their surveillance.

So, as a new strategy, they tried to make their presence less scarce...or atleast visibly so. With the advent of war on the horizon, it would only serve as a bait to lure out any wannabe heroes attempting some type of futile attempt at sabotage.

Lo and behold, within the first hour of pulling back their agents, the secret police got hits. Encrypted transmissions being bounced off all over the city, which made it impossible to trace, but told the Bureau that something was afoot. They were also able to triangulate the signals to specific sections of Guranburg, which would make their search practices easier.

The games may have been over for months, but for the IPIB, they were only starting their next event...
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Neo-Etrusca
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Like Caligula, WITH STYLE!
 *  *  *  *  *
OOC-Wow, I was a wee bit late on this one.
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
OOC- Wannabe 24 I know, but I want teh tension bitches!

IC-

The Installation, Karlsburg T-minus 30 hrs

"Anything interesting today?" asked Halschmann, the Installation's Director of Operations.

"Well the weather report just came in," Rothschild, the Chief Intelligence Analyst, replied nonchalantly, "Apparantly a typhoon is coming in. Big mutha too. Weather service is naming it Mishu."

"Hmm, maybe we can use it for cover-"

"Nah uh," Rothschild exclaimed, "We can't even get a transmission out into the area, since the interference has become pretty bad."

"Is that all then," Halschmann replied, slightly annoyed at the setback, "Anything from the field?"

"We're expecting a message from our station chief in Guranburg," Rothschild replied, his expression furtive, "They've flagged it as a level one priority transmission, but I have no clue what they got. Amped up the recievers just in case though."

"What time will we get the message?"

"Within the hour."

"Right. Keep me posted."
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
When the message finally came through, Rothschild took it. He then had to reread it several times to get over the shock.

Quote:
 
--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--
--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--
--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--INCOMING--

SECURITY ENCRYPTION- HIGH

LEVEL CLEARANCE- PRIORITY ONE, TOP SECRET

TRANSMISSION LOCATION- STATION GURANBURG

FORWARDING OPERATIVE- SOURDOUGH

----------------------

MESSAGE FROM PEACOCK. DOMINION AT HIGH ALERT STATUS. WAR PRODUCTION INCREASED 200 PERCENT. INVASION IMMINENT IN ASIA. REPEAT. INVASION IMMINENT IN ASIA. SHANGHAI PACT MEMBER STATES MUST BE WARNED. TIME OF INVASION GIVEN AS FRIDAY MIDNIGHT. AQUIRING DETAILS FROM PEACOCK ON MONDAY. REQUESTING INSTRUCTIONS.

-MESSAGE END-


"Friday at midnight?" he exclaimed mostly to himself, "We only get a day's warning? Shiiiiit!"

With that he bolted out of the communications room, bowled over a few aides, and then arrived in Director Halschmann's office, a print-out of the message in hand.

"We got problems, boss," he exclaimed, "Peacock just gave us a heads up on an imminent invasion of the Shanghai Pact."

"How long do we have?" Halschmann asked calmly as he sipped his coffee.

"A day," was all that came out of Rothschild's mouth. At that, the Director's eyes went wide and accidently gullped the scalding black fluid, causing him to choke ferrociously.

"A day?!" he finally gasped out once he got over the pain in his scorched throat, "What the fuck was the point in warning us at all?! Useless fellow!"

Rothschild handed him a nearby napkin to wipe off the coffee that had dribbled from his mouth,

"And before you ask, boss," he quickly exclaimed in a bid to stop his boss from going into a rant, "We haven't been able to contact any of the Shanghai Pact members due to interference from Typhoon Mishu."

Halschmann growled.

"Keep trying. In the meantime, what can our birds see?" he barked.

"Apart from Mishu's pretty spiral, not much."

"What was that?" Halschmann replied, his tone very dangerous. Rothschild gave him a nervous smile.

"I mean, I'll get on it."

With that he left.
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
"Anything from the satellites?" Halschmann asked as he walked in after a few hours of rest. Rothschild shook his head,

"I got bupkiss," he replied solemnly, "Our birds can't penetrate the cloud cover."

"Keep at it. We need to our allies something to use," Halschmann ordered.

"Best chance is to focus on Australia, but I dunno if we'll find anything."

"Do it. Wha about contact?"

"Doing better in that field, but we won't be able to encrypt or we won't get enough time to transmit the whole message."

"Shorten the message then. If we can get them pictures to go with the warning, details won't be necessary. But do not remove the encryption. Understand?"

"Yes sir."
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
"Hey sir, I think I may have found a way in through the interference," Rothschild exclaimed, not entirely sure if it was true, but optimistic nonetheless.

"Whaddya got for me?"

"We could try to beam a signal into Mishu's eye and bounce the signal from a station located there to Kiru Tao or Chirondom."

"How big is the eye?"

"57 kilometers in diameter, sir," Rothschild replied.

"Try it, see if it works."

"I'm on it."
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
"I got through!"

"Excellent, who did you send it to?"

"Chirondom."

"How much time did we have left?"

"Five minutes."

"Shit...."

----------------------------

Quote:
 
DOM....HIGH ALE....TUS. WAR....-ED 200 PER. INVA-....INVASIO-...IMMIN....SIA. SHANGHAI PACT MEMBER STATES MUST BE WARNE...

-MESSAGE END-
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Quaon
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A Prince Amoung Men-Shoot First and Ask Questions Later
“Fuck.”

Prime Minister Wilhelm von Koenig’s aides were taken aback. The New British Prime Minister always had a dignified and aloof air about him. He had come from a prestigious and widely respected family, being taught manners by the finest private tutors available. Scandal had been completely unknown to his administration, any innuendo of any impropriety on his part by the media wouldn’t simply be ignored, it would’ve been laughed out of the nation.

And now, their Prime Minister received the worst news possible. The Dominion was going to invade within the hour. Chirondom, Asia, the world…all sent to hell by the machinations of Ganz Gassel. Ryan Strathling, the Prime Minister’s Chief of Staff, watched as his Prime Minister shook with a mix of rage, fear, and loathing.

At last, Wilhelm composed himself. “The Declaration of War we have prepared, issue it immediately. Get me Lord Halsey on the line. Or-wait. No. Call him yourself, tell him he’s been promoted to Lord High Admiral of all New British fleets. Get the Empress out of the mainland, immediately. I’ll report the message to the other Shanghai Pact nations myself. Come on, Ryan, get to it!”

“Yes sir!” Ryan said, his voice slightly incredulous.

Suddenly the door to the Prime Minister’s office slammed open. Samuel Kelsey, Ryan’s secretary, was standing there. “Sir, they’ve invaded Hong Kong.”

“Get me Lord Halsey on the line, NOW!”
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