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The Death of an Heir; A spy tale
Topic Started: Nov 10 2008, 11:37 PM (238 Views)
Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
It had been over a year and a half since the Dominion decided to follow through on its plans to seize Asia and effectively declare war against the war with its much-hated Executive Order No. 101.

Even worse, it had become very obvious in the last few months that the Shanghai Pact was going to be routed in its entirety. Hong Kong had been the first to fall, their only real contribution to the war effort being to launch a nerve gas attack in the foot hills just beyond their borders, killing several hundred Dominion troops of the powerful 7th Army.

After them had been Emangu, which really hadn't the forte for warfare in the first place, and had been further screwed when the infamous MJOLNIR had struck the Australian nation. Since then, the SP's resistance had been falling like a house of cards, a fact that became obvious when Sumatra fell a mere week later. The writing on the wall was becoming depressingly clear.

For the Kasnyian secret agent codenamed "Sourdough", and Anton Tulzberg, the leader of the Kasnyian Resistance, they only hoped that the Dominion would eventually screw up in its insane bids for world conquest. In anycase, they had more important things to do.

It was a beautiful morning in Guranburg, and one that the two men would spend in the deep cavernous labyrynth of the city sewers, an abandoned section that was unmapped and hard to find, which made it perfect for today's plan of action.

Orders had arrived via the usual method during the night and upon reading it, Anton called a meeting of his top lieutenants and Sourdough, who also acted as representative for the exiled Imperial Government in Cologne.

"I got good news and bad news, gentlemen. First the bad, Dominion forces are just 100 miles away from Cologne. In the event that it is overrun, the Dowager and her cabinet will flee to Greenland," Anton explained, downcast, "However our orders stand: take Gassel down by any means necessary and restore the authority of the crown."

"The good news is that the boys at the Installation have finally got their knickers out of a twist...no offense," he continued, adding a furtive glance to Sourdough, who shrugged,"and they approved a bona fide op for us to carry out."

At that, the top lieutenants gathered around him perked up with interest. One of them, Kabb, spoke up,

"Whats the op?"

"Red roses were sent to the shop," Sourdough piped in, "With a picture to deliver it to."

In other words, an assassination.

"Who's the target," asked another lieutenant, Schonn.

"JRG," Anton replied simply. As expected, the eyes of everyone in the room went wide, except for Sourdough, who had already seen the photo (which had since been destroyed for security reasons).

"Oh thats gonna be BIG if we take him out," Kabb muttered incredulously

"No 'ifs' about it. We got to get it done. World's fate depends on it," Sourdough replied.

"JR fucking G, man. How the hell are we going to pull that off?" Schonn asked, always the more practical one of the group.

"The Peacock has already answered that for us. We got an encrypted telegram encoded with the location of our instructions. I've sent Mathau to handle it. He should be back noon, if nothing happens to him," Tulzberg replied.

"So what do we do until then?" asked Kabb

"We may not know all the details yet, but we still need to prepare our logistics. I want everyone to lay low until we know whats up."

"Understood. Man oh man.....ol' Junior is fucked."

"Yes he is. Yes he is...."
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
By lunch, Mathau had arrived with the parcel in hand.

"What does the Peacock say?" Tulzberg ordered.

"We got timetables for JRG's location. Apparantly he's going into Menks Province to attend one of the big-ticket matches happening at their Colliseum. We even know who he's going to be betting on, where he will be sitting, and where the weapon's drop will be located," Mathau reported.

"Weapon's drop?"

"Yes sir, the Peacock has provided a rifle with ammunition for our use. According to his instructions, all we need to do is get a gun man and insert him into the stadium."

"Why couldn't the Peacock just do it himself?" Kabb asked in slight annoyance.

"Needs a trustworthy gunman, I reckon," Schonn replied thoughtfully, "Not that I blame him, with the damn IPIB breathing down everyone's neck."

"Eh," was all Kabb could say, not entirely buying the reasoning.

"Hey guys, enough," Tulzberg growled, "This is JRG we're talking about. We take him out, Papa Gassel loses his hellspawn heir."

"Do we have an up-to-date picture? The one Headquarters sent in was old as shit," Sourdough piped in.

"Yeah, it came with the package. Dated from last week," Mathau replied as he fished out the phiotograph from the parcel, "Here..."

Internal Personnel Investigation Bureau
Information File
Posted Image
Julius Rudolphus Gassel, Major General
5th Special Operations Battalion, 1st Army
Nickname- "JRG", "Junior", "Gassel Jr."
Age- 42
Height- 6'2
Weight- 220 lbs
Security Clearance- Top Secret A3
Residence- Flankerburg Palace, Bahen
Information- Well known for his gambling and drinking habits, his many transgressiosn associated with these activities have been covered up by Zapht to ensure morale amongst the forces. Has been living at the Flankerburg Palace since the formation of the KMR. Prior Residence unknown. Prefers full figured redheads when in need of a woman, and has been observed attempting to couple with Francisca Tannenberg, a former girlfriend of one of his brothers. This has so far led to family tension. IPIB does not have enough information to make further calls of judgement or speculation.


"The IPIB has a file on JRG?" Sourdough exclaimed incredelously,

"Internal politics," Tulzberg replied, "I'm sure he has his enemies, so IPIB is probably keeping a file in case a palace coup ever happens."

Schonn and Kabb nodded in concurment. Sourdough took another glance at the file and then mentally shrugged.

"Lets get to planning, Gentlemen."
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Kasnyia
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OOC- If anyone wants in on this, perhaps as a competing resistance out to kill JRG or some such, do PM me and we'll work it out. :D

IC-

The Peacock was pacing. The war had been going well, and as such the sentiment in Zapht was reletively more jovial and less tense than before, but he wasn't fooled. He had to keep his wits about him, for he knew Gassel would. In fact, the Peacock had every intention of redoubling his efforts to stop the mad dictator from further desecrating upon the name of the Kasnyians in the name of world conquest.

Perhaps this new operation the Resistance was attempting would send Konstantin a message that he was not invincible.

Of course, he had to be careful. The Peacock had to make sure the other powerplayers, especially on the High Council, did not attempt to get into the bussiness of palace coups with the assassination as pretext. Destabilization now would destroy the world, the Peacock knew. JRG's death had to be handled as an accident. If he could get that guarentee from the resistance, he could ensure the mission's success.

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

"Peacock told us in the message that we would have to play it low-key, as an accident or something," Schonn stated, "If it was too obvious that he was assassinated, and the Dominion did not know who, the political ramifications could destroy us all."

"Why not just claim responsibility?" Kabb asked, "We need the people to know that we fight for them!"

"What rubbish," Tulzberg piped in, "If we do that, IPIB will DEFINATELY be on our asses, and we need to remain clandestine as much and as long as possible. One day we can make the announcement, but that will likely only happen on the day of Kasnyia's liberation from Gassel. And thats not gonna be soon, unfortunately."

"Okay, so we make it an accident," Sourdough stated, trying to keep on topic, "He'll be in the stadium right? Do we know where he will be sitting?"

"VIP section," Schonn replied, slightly puzzled, "Why, What are you thinking?"

"Well I'd need to see the blueprints first, but if its as I think it is, then perhaps we could cause a 'structual failure' somewhere....you follow?"

"Aye," both Schonn and Tulzberg muttered together. Kabb scratched his head,

"How would we cause structual failure without explosives?" he asked, "I mean we have to make it look like an accident right? I don't think IPIB would buy it if we used anything that dynamic."

Schonn concurred, "We will need to find a less obvious way to destabilize the structure at the VIP section."

"Scratch the idea," Tulzberg said suddenly, "It would take way too long and Kabb is right, we can't use charges."

"Have any better ideas?" Sourdough asked,

"Its a gladiatorial stadium right? Why not just get one of our guys to dress up like a gladiator and kill him from the field?" Tulzberg suggested.

"With what? A spear?"

"I don't think even the Olympic winning javelin throwers could do that."

"The VIP section is protected from an attack from the field."

"What about poisoning then?" Kabb suggested suddenly, "JRG drinks alot right? If we can spike his drink with something untracable and that causes a natural looking death like a heart attack or something, we'd be in the clear."

".....That actually could work," Schonn muttered after a moment, "I'll take a look at what poisons we can acquire that fits the specs."

"I can take a look at the security set up for JRG's food," Sourdough piped in.

"I guess thats our plan then. Get to work gentlemen. MEeting adjourned. We meet back here in a week," Tulzberg ordered, "I want results."

And so the meeting ended.
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Kasnyia
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Flankerburg Palace, Dominion Kasnyia

Like his father, Konstantin Ganz Gassel, Julius Rudolphus Gassel (known as "Junior" or "JRG" for short) was a big man standing at 6'5 with a muscular, barreled chest, and gorilla-like arms all stuffed within a black military uniform. With Asia under Dominion rule, his job as commander of the special forces branch of the Zapht-based Dominion 1st Army was rather boring. Because he was the Supreme Chancellor's heir, he could not ask to be transferred to the European Front or the deserts of Africa due to the possible PR coup the enemy would get with his death.

As usual, JRG scoffed at such nonsense. If he died on the battlefield, that was the honorable way to go and his father knew it. But JRG was not naive either. He knew his father, physically and mentally strong as he was, was also getting on in age and needed someone to ensure his vision would be completed.

Who better to trust than the son? JRG often thought wryly. Not that he particularly cared for this destiny his father was laying out for him. He knew that people like Markus Reinhold or Martin Delinz and even his younger brothers would never let him have the same control his father enjoyed, so he didn't bother to entertain delusions of political ascension.

As such, it was always his intention to set himself up as the power behind the throne, to use the family name to get things done for a puppet...perhaps one of his brothers, perhaps one of his father's lackeys...to rule in JRG's name. That was the far more useful position.

In the meantime, as he knew his father would be alive for some time yet, Junior had every intention to enjoy his many vices, damned be his reputation. And so today, like every other day, he would go and gamble.

"Having a good day, young master Julius?" asked a voice from behind. JRG gave a child-like smile.

Mr. John...!?

Whirling around, he met face to face with one of his father's oldest friend and the closest thing JRG ever had to a grandfather. He was in his mid eighties, but looked no older than 60, with a sharp handsomeness in his face left over from youth which seemed to absorb all idea of age. Also dressed in the Dominion Black military uniform, looking dapper, Field Marshal Bartholomew John smiled kindly to the younger man.

"I am well, sir," JRG saluted smartly, a manouver that he reserved only for his father's inner circle (save perhaps the brown-noising and weasel-like Reinhold) as they were the only ones he feared or respected, and in John's case, a little bit of both, "I was just on my way to-"

"Gamble and waste your time in the casinos again, yes?" John cut him off, but with a wry smile plastered on his face. JRG bowed his head slightly, in mild shame.

"What to do, sir?" Junior explained, "Father will not allow me to go to the front line. Atleast this way I don't rot in hellish boredom."

John shrugged,

"A true soldier always keeps his wits sharp. You could train rather than sit in the Hotel Bauser and gamble or drink away the life outside," John lectured, "It is unbecoming of an officer and you know it."

JRG sighed haughtilly. He hated it when he couldn't atleast enjoy himself when he was in a useless position. Alas, he could not tell this man no,

"Fine, I shall not enter the Hotel Bauser from now on."

"...Or the Collisseums of Menks?"

"But that is bloodsport!" JRG whined, "Even father watches those matches."

"It is not true bloodsport for you," John scolded, "So unless you wish to participate personally in the games, you will not go there either. I expect you to go back to base and start drilling your troops even harder than you already do. Keep them on their toes."

JRG did not say anything for a minute. Then he stood straight and gave a salute,

"Yes sir, I shall do as you command" was all he said. He then left the building, leaving the aged field marshal behind.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, Julius Rudolphus Gassel called in the Impressario of the Menks Colisseum and made a few arrangements.

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

Somehow, in his heart, though he could not see him or prove it, Bartholomew John knew JRG would not heed his advice. He always found some loophole and got out of it, if he truely disagreed with the ruling as he did now. His heart also knew that one day, Junior's impractical behavior would catch up with him sooner or later.

Pity.
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Kasnyia
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Chairman of the Bank
"You got the poison?" asked Tulzberg a week later. They were back in the secret basement command center underneath Tulzberg's flower shop.

"Yeah, and its pretty crazy stuff. Undetectable to poison sensors and it kills like a heart attack," Schonn replied as he produced from his breast pocket a dark glass bottle labeled Asamalin Tonic, "Just a problem in the delivery method though."

"Oh yeah?"

"Asamalin tonic has a very nasty chemical reaction with alcoholic drinks. The higher the proof, the worse it becomes, and we know from The Peacock that JRG drinks some powerful stuff."

"What kind of reaction?" Tulzberg asked.

"The liqour will change color from clear to blue. The more the alcohol it has, the more blue it becomes. It also starts fizzing like a shook up soda can the moment you add it in. Obviously, I didn't see how it effected the taste, but I assume there is change there too...."

"So how do we subvert this...?" asked Kabb who just entered the room.

"Thats what I'm trying to figure out, and I hoped you guys could help there."

"We'll have to figure it out soon, because Sourdough is already in place in Menks," said Tulzberg as he began to pace.

"When will JRG be there?" Kabb asked.

"Next week."

"Jeez."

"Yeah. Alright, lets see..." Schonn muttered, trying to keep things going.

"Can we add it to food instead?"

"Depends on the food, depends on the amount, and depends on what JRG will actually be eating and how he eats. Too many factors to risk. Besides, Asamalin tends to stain meats and other protein heavy foods."

"Beer? Its the least alcoholic drink JRG will take, and its usually in dark bottles so he won't see the color...."

"Doesn't account for the fizzing, nor the taste. Remember, the target will have to drink enough of it to kill him, which amounts to taking the whole bottle when it comes to beer," Schonn stated dismissively.

"What about water? Maybe we can make a situation where JRG will drink the water rather than the liquor?"

"Sourdough would have to be damned close, and inject JRG's personal goblet. Without the guards looking."

"Best shot." said Tulzberg.

"At that rate, you might as well just inject it in directly if he's gonna be THAT close," Kabb snarked incredelously.

"This poison only works when taken orally," stated Schonn, ignoring the fact that Sourdough would most certainly be killed attempting it.

"Any contingencies?" Tulzberg asked, already convinced that the water method was best.

"The sniper rifle provided to us by the Peacock. We fire it in JRG's general direction and make his security focus on a potential gunman rather than poison. Thats our decoy. Our contingency on the other hand is to use the decoy to distract the guards and then inject JRG with Soramine, which also simulates a heart attack, and is undetectable once it kills the victim, but is very easy to see and detect before it enters the human body."

"Alright," Tulzberg said, "I guess we have the general details down. The rest is up to Sourdough. Send the instructions and the poison to him through the usual channels."

"Yes sir," Schonn replied, saluting.
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Kasnyia
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A per his usual, JRG took the heavily escorted personal convoy from Zapht to the Menks Colisseum, which was thriving with soldiers off duty and on shore leave from the war. As in the days of Rome, when the colliseums would be entertainment in the heat of war, so was this one in Menks.

He knew John would be dissappointed, but the junior Gassel couldn't bring himself to stay away. Spending anymore time with Reinhold, who was nothing more than an attack dog for his father, and whom he spent many shouting matches exchanging death vows, would lead him to go insane. Even worse was the patronizing Martin Delinz. JRG loved the man and treated him like an uncle, but he just couldn't stand his elder's nagging about his every action, always being compared to his father, the Supreme Chancellor. Even Augersmann, whom he got along famously with, was in foul spirits these days, having to govern practically all of Asia.

And so, JRG arrived at the carnival province that was Menks. It wasn't much more than the port and the city, with jungle taking up the rest of the space. Indeed, the only reason it wasn't annexed to the nearby Core Territory of Kasnyia was because his father happened to respect the local military dictator. He exited his convoy without incident, and entered the VIP entrance for the colliseum.

From some distance away, a Kasnyian Intelligence Agent codenamed Sourdough casually moved inside the staff entrance.
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