MISSION: The Rise of Dietrich and the Clash of Briggs

[Guest]

The day had certainly not started off as normal. For some, it had started the previous night. Sneaking across the border, or landing behind it after HALO jumps, advance forces started to wreak havoc all over West Amestris. Some were unsuccessful, having been found and after a short engagement, shot dead. Others simply caused chaos and confusion. The remaining few had accomplished their jobs quite well.

Telecommunication lines were cut, power stations sabotaged, and key points bombed. Still, this was but one stage of Dietrich’s meticulously planned operation. Though it didn’t begin immediately. There was a proper time to strike, and it was coming soon.

Even as West Amestris began to react to the damage, the opening stage of Dietrich’s war plan was not yet complete. As the sun began to rise on Amestris, several lone fighters slipped their way into Amestrian airspace, nothing more than tiny, insignificant blips on warning screens, getting close enough to take out several radar towers. Minutes later, after the radar towers were little more than fire and rubble, scores of jet fighters ripped through the sky, further decimating fixed anti-air installations. After varied degrees of success and failure, the remaining jets retreated back into Cretan airspace. Stage One of the plan, “Reigning Heavens,” was complete. Now began Stage Two: “Rolling Thunder.”

Things started off slow: a simple exchange of small arms fire, then moving up to crew-served weapons. However, Creta upped the ante quite rapidly, bringing in armor and artillery support, literally blasting their way across the border. No troops were seen, instead hidden inside armored but agile APCs, alongside lighter recon vehicles. Lighter tanks pushed ahead, with heavier ones rolling behind them. Attack helicopters soon joined the push forward, spread evenly throughout the line. It was truly a sight to behold.

Well, at least that’s what Dietrich thought. He stood half outside of a command vehicle, traveling in the back of this section of the attacking wave. His golden armor shined in the morning light as he looked up at the sky, watching his jets move towards their objectives. He couldn’t help but smile, seeming to have at least a small element of surprise in his favor. Still, it would not last long. He had done what he could to sabotage roads and railways, but he hadn’t heard back from all of his advance troops. And then there’s the possibility of him missing plenty. It wouldn’t be long until these barbarians came to attack him in force.

He felt someone tug at his armor from the inside. With a scowl he slowly entered the belly of the command vehicle, only to be greeted by a lowly communications officer. He awkwardly stuttered out something about winning another small engagement somewhere farther south on the line. With a dismissive wave he says, “I have no interest in small skirmishes.” Thinking for a moment, he motions at a headset. “Hand me that. I believe I have something important to say.” After the young man forces out little more than a stammer, Dietrich pushes him out of the way and grabs the headset himself. “Damned children,” he mutters, adjusting the headset to fit him comfortably.

With a flick of a switch, the computer screen indicates he’s talking to the entire channel. Taking in a deep breath, he regains his royal composure. “Fellow fighters of the Royal Task Force, you have no doubt noticed we are traveling in Amestrian territory! However, do not let your guard down. I’m certain that the main defense force will come at us any moment. Do not overextend, do not get greedy, and, most importantly, remember why we are fighting! If we can push back the defenders here, then we are that much closer to ridding the world of this awful tyrannical country!” With another flick, the transmitter turns off. Taking the headset off, he motions for the young man to take his seat before peering out of the vehicle again.

In the distance, he could see members of his own portion of the force taking on the apparently light border defense forces. He watched as his tanks pounded a bunker with shells, his helicopters raining down rockets and gatling gun fire. The overwhelming victory did bring a smile to his face, but still… Much was still unknown about his enemy’s forces. This could be little more than a bluff, something to lull him into a false sense of security. He knew Amestrians weren’t stupid enough to allow him to blitz his way into their country. He knew there was a reason they had survived against larger and more powerful countries for so long.

As though just on cue, he watches as a rocket flies out of a forest in the distance, heading straight towards one of his helicopters. His heart races and his hands clench together as he watches the flare deploy, but to no avail. The rocket collides with the tail, separating it from the main body, the helicopter spinning out of control as it practically falls to the ground in a big explosion. Slipping back inside again, Dietrich looks at the computer screens, reading similar reports along the line. Anti-aircraft fire, artillery shelling, and even outright opposition in full force. He couldn’t help but chuckle, and he couldn’t deny that there was part of him that was excited that the opposition finally bared its fangs.

“This is but our first test,” he mutters, turning to the communications officer. “I want the helicopters to pull back a bit, and I want our anti-aircraft units deployed up here as soon as possible. Other than that, tell the other commanders to proceed with caution.” He pauses for a moment, pondering something over. “Also, check in on my Amestrian prize. Make sure he’s ready to do what needs to be done.”

[Dai]

"...yes, thank you. I hope we can do this well enough." He was speaking into the mouthpiece of the cellphone, looking around to make sure that he wasn't being watched - he'd made sure that all sound was disabled from the room (privacy reasons), so hopefully they wouldn't hear him - and if they did, that they didn't understand Ishvallan, that would be a given. He sighed softly.

"No, no, I get it. There is a lot to risk. That letter I gave Mura: I'm going to do it today, no matter what. I can't stand it anymore, friend. I need to get out of here." He shook his head and groaned audibly. There was too much here - he wanted to leave - maybe he could just make her fall in love with him again. Heh. "Yeah, yeah." He felt the rumbling of the caravan that he was in slow down.

"Alright. Seems that we're stopping. You know the plan - I need her to see me, at some point. It might be the memory jog that she needs. Keep Mura away from me, too. I don't need him to kill me for my 'treason'. And finally, keep her safe, Xanthus." He hung up the phone, and handed it to Jericho, hoping that the man who was his partner hid it well enough. A small sigh left his lips, and he looked up at the roof of the caravan, before gazing over at Nika, too.

"It's almost time, Nika. Be prepared for anything. Don't forget, the Gae Bolg... it will be the key to our victory." He winked lightly at her, making no real motions that would give away the fact that the one sentence of his meant more than it appeared to. He smiled softly, turning back to Cross.

"As for you, we already discussed our plan. You planted them, right? I hope so - we may not get a chance to have them planted on the battlefield." He smirked, and finally looked over to the door, hearing it open. It seemed that someone was there to collect him. Just in time...

A small laugh left his throat, and he stood up, approaching the person who came to collect him.

"Have we arrived?"

[Guest]

Nika sat silently in a seat next to her former Lt. Colonel. Yes, former, they were not soldiers of Amestris at this very moment, they were Creta's crown jewel of her royal military, expected to fire upon their former comrades. Though it was not that prospect that made her nervous, an invisible anxiety that she kept to herself and well hidden from the eyes of Ito or Cross. What did secretly worry her was the nature of their attempt to double cross Dietrich. They were going to be acting as soldiers of Amestris in the end yes, but would Amestris herself know that? Or would they die wearing Dietrich's insignia, branded traitors for all of history?

Nika glanced down at her uniform with mild disgust. The black shirt she wore was made of a fine and flexible material, and the custom made special operatives combat jacket she was issued seem to be of a quality make, a far better option to the standard camo military uniform the Cretan foot soldiers wore. Even the color scheme was preferable, all neutral colors, mainly black, from her boots and pants to the gloves she wore. But it was a Cretan uniform, it bore the insignia of the King and the flag of Creta on the shoulder. She would have torn off both patches already if it wouldn't draw attention to her. As Amestrians, they were already looked after with suspicious eyes. Would this really work? Being shot in the back by their Cretan keepers or being gunned down from the front by their former allies. Neither seemed like a promising death on the battlefield.

Nikita Alkaev....no, Veronika Alkaev, as the identification tag on her uniform now said, brushed her dark hair out of her face and tied it back into a ponytail. She shifted around uncomfortably, being so used to wearing men's uniforms and taping down her chest, but now she did not have the luxury of this, the Cretarians enlisted her as female, and her uniform was catered toward the female form. For the first time in her military history, she would be entering the battlefield as a woman. If it wasn't for her connections with Ito, they probably would not have let her enter the front lines.

"It's almost time, Nika. Be prepared for anything. Don't forget, the Gae Bolg... it will be the key to our victory."

Nika glanced towards Daigoro and nodded silently, and gave a quick glance to Cross before turning to her attention to her equipment. She routinely went over ever nook and cranny of her Heckler & Koch HK417, the selective fire assault rifle issued to Cretan special forces. It was ironically made by an Amestrian company, but was never accepted into use there. It was a quality rifle as well, the King seemed to spare no expenses on outfitting his troops, that was for sure. She went over every thing else in a quick and fluid routine check, something she had grown used to in the military, and something that she could do in under a minute. Barret M82.50 calibre recoil-operated, semi-automatic anti-materiél rifle, strapped to the back, check, three hand grenades, check, four flash bangs, check, her own combat knife and her own pair of FN Five-Sevens, check. Everything was all in place, all secured firmly on her person. Now all there was left to do was follow Ito's lead and place her trust in his ability to command her, and her own ability to carry out these orders without fail.

The door opened, and Nika waited quietly as Ito Stood up and approached the soldier outside the vehicle. And so it began.

[Guest]

Jericho just sat there...perfectly, as Dai talked that........imperfect language into his head set. Yes, it was the languages fault that he couldn't, NO, didn't want to understand it. He just sat there though, in perfect silence as this went on, the thought storming in his head. Even though it was storming no one could have told that from the perfect evil little smile he held upon his face. Today was going to be fun, war, fighting, death. It was all just so magical. Jericho took the phone that was handed it to him. Now, how to hide it? It could just blow it up, that would be amusing for a bit. Though there was a possibility someone would see the remains of it, hear the explosion, or even Dai might have need of it at a later date. So instead he took the phone and put it inside his shirt under the body armor.

Oh yes, Jericho had acquired some new threads from the King. A nice set of light EOD blast master armor. It provided protection while at the same didn't sacrifice movement. It was a perfect fit for his alchemy. He listened as Dai talked about the Gae Bolg to Nika. That didn't really interested him that much but information was information he supposed. Good to know what his partners in crime were doing. Speaking of which he wondered where his actual partner was at this time. Not that he cared, it was more of a wanting to know where your assets were at all times sort of thing. Ah yes, now it was his turn, he thought to himself as he smiled when Dai turned to him. He had done exactly as he was supposed to. "Oh you don't need to worry about that, they were placed ever so perfectly." He stated rather arrogantly. It was ever going to be such explosive fun. His rather evil looking smirk appearing at the same time as Dai's. Oh how Creta would not see it coming.

This is when the door opened the man coming in to take Dai, obviously. Oh this plan was going to be just....perfect. This would certainly be an exciting day, Jericho could almost taste it. As for Nika, he wasn't really surprised she was a women, or should he call her Veronika? Anyway he had made that discovery before today anyway. She seemed...to dislike being a women. Jericho didn't really see why, but that was her problem, not his...

[Guest]

Weapons, ammunition, and other equipment were being carried by air in a large craft most commonly known as a Chinook. Most of the equipment had been put into crates and tied down in order to avoid any potential problems, such as explosives going off while airborne, weapons becoming damaged, and so forth. To avoid confusion, the crates were marked with detailed labels, stating what was inside, the quantity, and other notes regarding the shipment. Weapons and ammunition were kept separate from each other (as well as other supplies). In the center of the carrier was something quite unlike the crates commonly seen in such a craft. In the center was a man, quite normal from a distance, but very different.

Daemon sat in the center of the craft. He was meant to "accompany" the equipment, as it were, which meant no difference to him. After all, his sole purpose was to obey his master, the Prime Minister of Creta, Dietrich Von Vermont. That was all he was meant to do, even if it meant performing minuscule tasks such as sitting in the carrier with the rest of the equipment. It seemed they thought of him as equipment as well, but it didn't matter. As long as he was performing his tasks with flawless results, all was as it should be.

"Hey, we're landing in a bit," came a voice from the pilot's cabin. It was a good thing, too, because the overpowering noises were clouding his senses. That wasn't going to help him perform his best. If anything went wrong, then Dietrich would no longer have any use for Daemon. If that happened, he would just have to take the matter of disposing of the "faulty equipment" into his own hands. It would be an easy fix, of course, but ideally, it wouldn't need fixing. He should be perfect. Otherwise the years he spent in training will have been for naught.

Despite the darkness, the chimera could tell explicitly what was going on in and around the craft. Once they began to descend, crates shook, packing materials shifted, and weapons clicked as they bumped each other ever so slightly. The blades keeping the craft aloft spun almost perfectly. The occasional bend could be detected by a quiet squeaking. Birds that approached changed their path to avoid the blades, but some hit the Chinook and plummeted to the ground below. The smell of the soil became stronger as they neared their destination, and voices became much more audible as well.

Adjusting his ear-piece, Daemon judged how much longer it would be before the craft touched down, and waited patiently for the impact. The entire craft seemed to shake, and the militant managed to keep his balance - barely. He could smell blood. A door opened. It was time to unload the equipment. The radio was connected directly to Dietrich, as well as the intermediates that were meant to ensure proper delivery of the "merchandise". Now that they had landed, it was time to check in with the boss. He wasn't sure of what to do after the landing, so this was a progress check as well as a short briefing of sorts.

"Sir... The equipment has arrived," he announced before standing up to unload the equipment. Something felt odd about the situation, but he chose to ignore it for the sake of completing his task.

[Guest]

IMPORTANT NOTICE:

Via agreement between the players of Dietrich, Xan, Tataki, and Jet, all player characters should be in the same area, for the sake of convenience. The rest of Creta's attack IS being defended against, but just in the background.

Please keep this in mind when you make your first post for your character in this mission thread.

Thank you in advance,

-Izzy/Viktor/Dietrich-

ALL AMESTRIAN SOLDIERS MAY NOW POST FOLLOWING JET'S!

-Aki

[Guest]

Brigadier General Jethro Black stood on a small ridge overlooking the plain that in the last few days had become the Western forces forward defensive line. They were the front line troops, the first to take the attack from the devious Cretan Royal Guard. Jet watched as troops began to fulfill his orders, the first waves of enemies smashing into the entrenched defenses of his Western Army. His dark black hair whipped in the wind, the fresh sounds of gunfire, artillery barrages and aerial strafing runs reaching his ears. It had been far too long since Jet had been in battle, and today was his trial by fire. He had to prove himself worthy of the position he now held. The West had always been known an steadfast defenders and masters of the armored combat. Black would not let the West's name be sullied, not today. Tanks, missile platforms, mobile artillery installations, bunkers, heavy weapons, and APC's were but a few of the big guns Jet was now bearing down on his old foes.

Jet knew who was leading the strike, the same man who had killed his parents right before his very eyes. He would have vengeance today, whether it be against the man who had killed his parents, or the land he once had called home that betrayed him and his family. He would redeem the name of West on this day. Nothing would stand in his way, and nothing shall break through these lines. Black turned back and walked into the Command Tent, where dozens of people were bustling, doing all they could to keep the lines secure. Jethro reached the table where his Senior Staff were located, the respected heads of their departments and Companies. He had called them here for some final words and orders before the full assault by Creta would begin.

"My friends, my brothers and sisters of the West. Today, we face a foe we are all well too familiar with. Creta has come knocking on our door looking for a fight, and by God we're gonna give them one they'll never forget! We will be the first line of defense against them, but do not dismay. Reinforcements are en route from both Fort Briggs and East City via gunships and transports, and will arrive within the hour. Our orders are simple: Hold the central line and this forward command at all costs until backup arrives. You have your assignments, go! For Amestris!" Jet finished his small speech, the men and women saluting and beginning to walk away. Jethro walked up to Cironis and Izzy, pulling them aside from the rest of the group.

"I have special assignments for the both of you. As you well know, we are still not fully staffed since the destruction of our HQ a few months ago. In light of this, two crucial positions are still open, the Head of Military Operations and the Head of Military Defense. I need you two to fill those shoes today. I will be leading our elites on the front lines, and will do my best to lead the men from the front. Cironis, I need you to head up our defensive lines and ensure they stay intact and secure. We can not give them an inch," the General said, dismissing Sky to prepare the defenses. "Izzy, I need you to gather our assault forces and prepare for a counter-attack, we're going to cut this thing off at it's head. You MUST await for the arrival of General Masu and the Eastern forces before striking, have I made myself clear?" Jet said, a strong seriousness to his tone few were used to. As she replied and saluted, Jet returned the salute and walked to a small deployment zone, several Stormhawk gunships loaded with his most elite troops awaiting his command. The craft were already warmed up, their engines whining over the sound of distant battle.

From here, he could see the offense was in full swing and Creta was slamming hard into his defenses. "This will be a long battle, but we will not not give them any ground, for today, is my, no, the West's, day to shine," he said to himself as he received a report of incoming friendly aircraft from the north. "General Tsukino, welcome to the front lines. I have my forces ready to head alongside yours whenever you're ready," Jet said on the command line directly to her. Suddenly Jet came to a realization, something that felt like a freight train slamming into his chest. "Could they be?..." he mumbled to himself in Cretan.

[Xan]

'Colonel Xanthus Icarus...hmm...is this all that my mortal container is capable of? I was expecting so much more...from one who wields my name and powers in such ways.'

Darkness...Xanthus Icarus was alone in the darkness, feeling the earth all around him trembling with the force of the machines running rampant upon the surface above. Within the earthen walls, one could see nothing, the torches along the walls having burned out many decades ago. Here Xanthus felt comfortable, the endless tunnel feeling familiar to him in a binding way. He had no reason to fear the darkness; after all, the darkness was his home, it was where he belonged...it was what he was.

'Hmm...are you referring to my rank, the tactics that I'm employing or something else in particular? If it's the first, then you already know that I've requested a promotion from Hild as a reward for my part in this. If it's the second, then you know that there is no choice at the moment, and if it's the third...'

Noise...Xanthus Icarus surrounded by noise; from his position atop the ridge overlooking the battle taking place down below, he could hear the all enveloping cacophony of sounds that war entailed. A helicopter was taken down by a SAM, then machine exploding in mid air and crashing to the ground in a blazing fireball of light and heat, crushing a light transport unit below. Tanks were firing freely from both sides, and casualties were being suffered. And yet...it was only the beginning. A team of jets flew overhead, dropping their payloads directly onto Cretan militants, raining destruction down onto those beneath. It was both glorious and horrifying, but not in equal measure.

'You know what I'm talking about. Do not pretend that you do not.'

From within the darkness, tendrils began to spread out that were the same as, but different than the surrounding darkness. This darkness was sentient, ancient, and clearly malevolent, whereas the surrounding darkness could only claim to be ancient. This sentient darkness traveled down in each direction as far as it could at once and was able to feel the machines still travelling above it. Slowly and with great mirth, eyes began to open and mouths began to reveal lines and rows of vicious teeth...

'Perhaps, but now is not the time nor the place for this discussion. Come, I can hear Black's voice from here; it appears that the battle proper has just begun.'

From his position, Xanthus stood up and stretched, feeling the magnitude of his powers washing over and through him. Though he had arranged for the defense of Amestris and was reasonably responsible for making sure that all went well, he was not going to be taking a leadership role in this battle, having already done his first part. He had other things to do than to match wits with upstart Cretan rulers...he had to attend to certain matters of the heart amongst other things. With deliberate slowness, Xanthus raised his right hand...

'Very well...'

Upon the battlefield, something bizarre occurred; a heavy tank that had been rolling along perfectly fine a moment before simply stopped short in its tracks shortly before simply exploding in place, shocking nearby Cretans and injuring others, as well as causing the deaths of those inside. Then, the same fate befell a number of other vehicles; they would simply stop and explode, as though an invisible opponent were sabotaging the Cretan forces. The bizarre sight was noticed by Amestris' Border Troops as well, who reported similar 'situations' down the lines in random instances. One extremely strange occurrence apparently involved a helicopter being dragged from a low-flying position down to the ground and crashed against a number of APC's. Another report declared that gaping maws filled with large teeth were erupting from the ground to snap at the enemy before retreating, only to be replaced by large spikes that would impale several tanks and APC's, leaving them leaking blood whilst the shadows returned from whence they came.

"Remember, we're searching for him Pride. Try to restrain yourself a little...maybe."

With that, Xanthus turned his back to the fighting and walked away, into the shadows nearby and apparently disappearing into them to become one with the darkness once more.

'I hope that Reila gets here soon...there are certain matters to take care of.'

[Murazar Dauthi]

Murazar was flying low in a stealth-helicopter, he had nodded off for a few moments as he and his intel team were heading to the RZ with Xan and Rei-chan. He woke up to a start as he and his team looked out the window as their hair stood straight up. The helicopter suddenly slammed and felt as if it was being dragged down. Murazar raged in the radio for everyone to hold on tight as his team fought to just stay in their seats and the helicopter pilots tried to at least safely crash the bird.

He gritted his teeth as suddenly one of his own men almost flew out of the helo and he barely caught him by the wrist while keeping his grip on his seat with pale white hands under his fingerless gloves. The mans face suddenly turned ashen as they were losing grip on each other. Murazar scream something akin to 'No!' into the radio as the man flew out and slammed into the forest below so fast and hard there was no way he was alive. Within seconds the chopper crashed into the ground and Murazar blacked out.

He awoke just outside the chopper against a tree with great pain in his back and shoulders. He had barely survived, he looked down and saw trail marks from him to the bird. He must've dragged himself out while barely conscious or semi-conscious. He gritted his teeth as he stood up and nearly fell straight down. He was in agony as he forced his muscles to relax and lock down in order to hold himself up. He limped toward the crash site as he saw bodies strewn out and either impaled, so limp their bodies twisted in on themselves, or cut into pieces. It was a grisly sight.

He had just lost his entire team once he checked for a body count, he was alone and need to get to the RZ. At the least it was only about a mile away or two, he could jog that in half a hour or so even in his condition. He check and realized his pistols were gone, it matter not he had a large combat knife on him as well as a few other knives and hsi bags of sulfur. He gritted his teeth as he realized he couldn't even call in a medevac because all the radios were destroyed.

He decided at the least he would use someones medkit and save some of the other parts of it for later use. He rummaged through the dead bodies and after finding two kits he kept a capped shot of morphine and another one of epenephrine on him. He injected himself with the other shot of epenephrine and decided after it wore off he would take the morphine if nothing was happening. In the meantime he check and made sure nothing was broken or out of place or bleeding before moving on.

He began to jog and hoped that the last call made out from the chopper pilots didn't worry Rei-chan or Xan too much. After all they didn't have his location only a general area he might be in and they should know by now he wouldn't stay put in a crisis. He had to move. He began to run towards his objective his people, he had to make it to them at least while the battle was about to begin. After all Creta was no doubt going to try to attack them with all they had to ensure the top generals and heads were killed in order to disorganize Amestris. He couldn't afford to let that man called Dietrich succeed, nor that Traitor Dai. His thoughts roared with anger as he ran forward and the pain left his body. He knew he'd ache later and pay for his recklessness, but this was one battle he was not going to go into a coma and miss!

(OOC: Gotta at leas explain why Mura might be taking his time or be later than normal. ^.^)

[Reila Tsukino]

It was only a matter of time...before she received an immediate report directly from Mura, stating that West City was under attack by Cretan forces. She had just gotten out of the shower, steam piling around her as her urgent eyes scanned over the words in the document that she was getting wet. She looked up into his violet eyes and smiled. "Make arrangements to set out." The smile didn't reach her eyes. Dead...destroyed...imminent danger...citizens... These were all words that she had captured. And Reila Tsukino did not like these words. She was expecting it, yes, but still... She shooed Mura out and shut her door, letting the towel drop around her ankles. She wasn't even dressed. This was going to take more than a few minutes of preparation before setting out herself. But Reila was a woman and she would do what women did best: multitask.

In one hand was the blow dryer and in the other was her brush. She snagged it through knots and pulled strands of hair up into a high pony tail. Now, this was a color most people were not used to seeing from her; it was her natural hair color. No longer did she bleach it, and no longer did it reach her ankles. Instead, the tips only just barely brushed the small of her bare back. Reila had cut her hair for the first time in her life. In spirit too, she was no longer the royalty of Aerugo. Her hair finished drying...and it was the color drying blood. She stared at herself in the mirror for enough time to gauge the fact that she was severely worried about something. Of that, she had no idea. Her heart raced as she yanked on underwear and a sports bra, dashing to the closet that contained her new battle gear. After fighting Father, Reila decided that it was necessary...and no, chain mail did not suit her in the slightest. She clipped pieces of metal in the shape of wings on either side of her head and struggled into light, silver armor and a white pleated skirt. Once she adjusted it, she let her hair fall down and then yanked her tachi off its stand, hooking it to her belt. Five minutes had passed...it was too much time. She grabbed a head set that was connected to Briggs' loudspeaker. "Xan, head out first. Mura you follow and I'll meet you there with the troops." Why did women have such hard lives!?

She pulled up black leggings on each leg and then jumped into armored boots with pointed edges that dared anyone to attack. As she holed her arms into a pair of gauntlets with tiny wigs on the end of the forearms and then picked up the phone to dial the number of the Pirate ship in North City. The captain...was sort of brothers with Xan. She could trust them. "It's today. When you come, contact a man named Cyran; he has your money. And try not to eat the cafeteria. Thanks~" She tossed the phone onto her bed after hanging it up and then flew out the door, locking it. Seven minutes. It wasn't that bad... Still, it was under her record. The fact that she hadn't beaten it pissed her off.

* * *

It was a few seconds after Xan and Mura took off, that Reila herself ascended into the skies. She was in her specially designed airship that was so small that it was the size of a helicopter. It...pretty much looked like a U.F.O. so when someone pointed to the sky in Amestris, declaring that Aliens were coming to Earth, actually it was Reila. Briggs' airship was painted such a pale, grey, blue that it blended naturally with the clear sky. Its curves were so planned out that the edges could not be seen from a distance. In short, Reila was invisible. But mostly, what she liked best was the fact that she could stand on top of it while it hovered in flight. She had her scientists and alchemic engineers to thank for that.

She picked up an untraceable cellphone from the interior of the U.F.O. (yes, she named it that) and dialed East City Head Quarters Major General Tataki Masu's cellphone. "I know you must have already received reports about West City. Fort Briggs is engaging now. I'll see you on the battlefield." She flipped it closed and let it fall back in its place. This was going to be a long forty minutes of travel... But she managed to distract herself out the window by watching the scenery until her men announced that they were nearing the area that the battle was taking place at. Their cargo ship and fourteen other helicopters landed down behind the U.F.O. and began unloading. Reila switched to the line that she was told West City used. "Brigadier General Jet Black, this is Lieutenant General Reila Tsukino of Fort Briggs. We've met once before. My men have arrived; see to it that they are immediately sent to the front lines in accordance to your formation. I thank you. I will be going on ahead. Inform your men to stay clear of my airship and the vicinity around it." All in a days work. It appeared that shadows were already feasting on the scene. She smirked. Xan was at play. But she hadn't heard from Mura and this worried her... He was probably just busy. Or, you know, missing or dead. She shuddered at the thought. That couldn't have to do with that...lingering worry...that feeling of impending dread, could it? Shit! She couldn't have Mura die. Mura was not dying. But his line was out. The light was red and blinking which indicated a non-manual shut down. He wasn't dead. She clenched her fist, listening to the collision of her metal fingertips. He wasn't. Reila unsheathed her tachi.

Golden eyes held the world, filled with the fires of destruction and already forming cries of anguish. She swung herself onto the roof, magnetizing her feet to the surface and the entire area around U.F.O. Nothing could get her. She smirked, eyes still ablaze and growing more stern as she saw the Cretans. Just who was leading this attack? She would aim for that person. But first... They had to be pushed off Amestrian soil. What, hadn't anyone heard that Amestris was known for tornadoes? Oh, what a shame. She swung her tachi in a spiral, the necklace around her neck as well as the blue tattoo on her shoulder glowing fiercely. A tunnel formed and birthed out of the blue sky, turning it dark and morbid. The tornado began paving a wavy line through the enemy camp. She hoped it would take out some of their supply units and especially their moral. But she couldn't exactly tell from this distance... She pulled the speaker to her lips. "Xan, I need to know where to aim. What exactly is happening down there?"

[Guest]

"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself, but not the enemy for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

This quote was very true and were Tataki's thoughts exactly. Major General Tataki Masu was reading over the reports on the attack on the West, given to him by his second in command 2nd Lieutenant Lyte Icarius. He had been preparing for this day ever since Fuhrer Hild said they wouldn't attack unless attacked first. Well today seemed to be that day. He had been reading up on their possible enemy since that day, though it was only about their past tactics it was possible they still used them. Though, they were lead by a new foe they had never encountered before. So it was hard to tell if they were the same military they were before. Not only people but countries tend to change under new leadership, this foe would not be like any other, Tataki was sure of this. He didn't make it a habit of underestimating his enemies, it was a flawed ideal to do anything like that. People have been known to surprise even the most prepared people. This is when his phone rang. He picked it up and it was Lieutenant General Reila Tsukino, his long time ally and possibly friend in these endeavors. Tataki only smiled when he heard her voice, it wasn't that he liked the news they were going to battle it just seemed it sounded better than it really was coming from her.

"I know you must have already received reports about West City. Fort Briggs is engaging now. I'll see you on the battlefield."

"Yes mam," He said turning off his phone after she did. So, today was really it. He stood from his seat and pressed the button that would speak to all of East HQ. "Sons and daughters of Eastern HQ, today is the day we bring vengeance down upon those who would dare to hurt the citizens and the country of Amestris, we shall strike swift and without mercy. We shall show them why we are dubbed Amestris's strongest offensive fighters. Hell shall rain down upon the heads of are enemies as we shield our brother and sister militants and the citizens of the great country of Amestris. We ship out now, get all the last minute preparations done with haste and absolute perfection. That is all," He said with a strong voice, the resounding cheers of soldiers outside making him smile, the voice was one that would give faith were there was not, one that would shake the foundations of the gods themselves. Tataki would be out for blood for what happened at the carnival and what was happening now. No one attacked his countries people and got away with it.....no one. "2nd Lieutenant Lyte Icarius, let us make our way to the chopper," he said walking toward his aircraft. It was certainly the fastest thing there but certainly was not all he was bringing. But, Dietrich and the militants of Creta would find that out soon enough. Again, there was a reason they were the strongest offensive force Amestris had to offer...

***

Tataki arrived much later than Reila to the battlefront. The smoke of fire and the scent of blood were all across the area. War was a terrible thing, but it would be fought as long as there was intelligent life in this world. Whether it be animals fighting for territory or humans fighting for something they believe is great, it was all just the same in the end. "This is Major General Tataki Masu, my forces have arrived and are ready to begin with anything that is needed of them, awaiting response." It would seem he was a little late than most but then again he was stationed on the other side of this great country. His helicopters stormed over the tanks and other artillery below. Military Humvees raced ahead of the Military trucks all carrying Eastern HQ personnel. Tataki then turned to his 2nd in command. "You know the drill, when we land you will go and assist West HQ in keeping everyone informed of what is happening, if theres any changes I want to know, am I clear?" He waited for a response and then there Helicopter descended upon West HQ. This was going to be hell on earth...

[Guest]

"Yes ma'am, it will be done immediately. We'll be right behind you, Black out," Jethro replied to the Lieutenant General, cutting the vox as soon as he finished. Jet turned back to the gunship, his personal retinue already seated inside the enclosed flying transport of death. It was time to take the fight to the enemy, and to accompany him directly in this assault was none other than the best the West had to offer. Ten squads, each with ten men and women, were loaded into their Stormhawks, armed and ready for combat. In the craft before him however, four men and a woman sat in waiting. They were his personal retinue, the newly created "Honor Guard," and the greatest warriors the entire Western HQ had to offer. Masters of war, each wielded powerful and advanced weapons, adding to their expertise in combat, making them unstoppable warriors. Dante, Ryan, Braden, Meghan, and Robert were their names, but they were best known as the "Black Templars," named after his prestigious title. This name was also given to the elite men and women in the gunships nearby. Jet would be standing side by side with them in their attack, and he would have it no other way. He only wished Cironis could join them, but he had duties of his own, most of them assigned by Jet.

The man walked up the ramp, nodding at each of the Templars as he took his seat towards the front, each member strapping themselves in. "Western HQ, this is Brigadier General Black, transmit to the Northern forces their deployment zones and tell them that they will be fighting head on with the northernmost prong on this," Black said, awaiting the confirmation from them. After receiving that, as well as word that Major General Masu and the Eastern forces had just arrived, Jet cut the link and switched to the command channel with the General. "Excellent to hear from you Major General, this is Brigadier General Jethro Black of Western HQ. Welcome to Hell," Jet said, a slight smile on his face from seeing the destruction of his enemies in his mind. "Your reputation as Amestris' most potent offensive force will be put to the test today my friend. We need to formulate a counter-strike to begin pushing the enemy back towards their own land. Elements of my force are in helicopters and awaiting your orders General, do what you must to get them off our soil," Jet finished. Black switched to the channel for the Black Templars as the Stormhawks lifted off, taking to a spear-tip formation as they approached the front lines. "Templars of the West, it is time for redemption, for glory and honor on the field of battle! May God have mercy on our enemies, for we shall have none! Show no fear, show no weakness, only valor in the name of Amestris!" As he said this, the gunships began pouring missiles, lead, and super heated plasma into the enemies below, clearing a path for the craft to land. Slowly lowering to the ground, the ships stopped a few feet above, guns continually giving cover. "It is time my brothers and sisters! For Fuhrer and Amestris!" With this the hatches on the front of the gunships opened, one-hundred and six warriors clad in ceramite armor and bearing weapons of utter destruction jumped from them to the close ground below, immediately searching for enemies to kill. Jet was the last to touch the rock and dirt, the Stormhawk Gunships providing cover fire for a few seconds more before flying off to rearm and refuel.

The Black Templars had been unleashed. Each wore newly created suits of armor, powerful enough to shrug off the heaviest of weapons fire, and directly connected to the wearers nervous system, allowing complete control. Most bore weapons called Bolt Guns, assault rifles with explosive rounds, able to punch through the toughest armor and explode one second after impact. What was more scary however, was the sight of the five people now fighting by Jethro's side. Dante was a large man, and the armor made him a giant. Wielding a two handed War Mace and a Bolter, he was a picture of death at it's finest. Ryan bore the standard of the Western HQ, a pistol firing deadly shots with each pull of the trigger. Braden was the squads alchemist, and a powerful one at that. He specialized in lightning alchemy, blasting opponents away with bolts of electricity fired from his staff. Meghan fired her Bolt Gun, a broadsword attached to her hip and a med pack on her back, the squads field medic. Last, and certainly not least, was the burly man that was Robert, but more known as the Western Champion. Wielding a giant shield and a Waraxe, he was considered to be the best fighter in all of Western Command, besides Jethro of course. Together they made Jet's Honor Guard, and wherever they went, only destruction was left in their wake.

Squads of melee and ranged specialists made up the rest of Black's strike force, and all were currently embroiled in intense combat. The gunships had dropped them right in the middle of the frontlines, creating a huge gap in the enemies line from the wrath the Templars had just unleashed. Taking up defensive positions, Jet and his men prepared for the counter-attack that was sure to come. Before that could happen though, a giant tornado seemed to appear out of nowhere, tearing apart the enemies forward positions. "Reila's work no doubt," Jet said to himself. The thought of the General reminded him of Saga for some reason, but he didn't know why. Seeing the woman he'd sworn to protect in his mind gave Jethro strength, for he would need it in the coming onslaught.

[Guest]

His train of thought was interrupted by that ridiculous mutt announcing that he had arrived on the battlefield. “Excellent. Unload and make your way to me. Deal with anyone that tries and stops you.” With a small flick, he activated a beacon on himself, sending out a high-frequency signal to the hodge-podge of a creature.

Turning back to a nearby screen, Dietrich watched as symbols winked out of existence. Some were of his own forces, others confirmed Amestrian units. Still, things were going pretty well, despite hectic chatter from his own men. Shadows attacking his forces?

“It seems like that pride-personified has shown up,” he mutters to himself. “Stop the advance,” he announces over the entire secured frequency. “Keep calm and hold your ground.” Continuing to watch the screen, he notes that his UAV’s are picking up an awful lot of unidentified activity, soon followed y appropriate flags for them. “Reinforcements are arriving. Prepare defenses for a counter-attack.”

More chatter followed, though only two interested him. One was that one of his new anti-air vehicles shot down a stealth helicopter. He grinned at the thought of his technological investments coming to fruition. The second, though, proved quite troublesome. “All units, scatter from the tornado!” he yells. Some of them managed to get out of the way but he couldn’t help but feel bad for those caught in its path. Indeed, it seems as though not all of Briggs had stayed to fight the Northern Push.

“Mark-Fives, move up closer to the fronlines; work in conjunction with targeting markers. Reaper batteries, wait for designations from the UAV’s, and then fire freely.” Walking to the back of the vehicle, he punches a rather large button, which causes the back hatch to slowly open automatically. “All infantry deploy immediately, and prepare universal loadouts.” Reaching over, he grabs a reader off of a rack, placing it so that the screen was over his left eye, allowing him access to this information even when outside his command vehicle. “Grid G-8, target any tricky aircraft with manual guns. I want to see that craft destroyed or grounded.” With his right hand, he grabs the hilt of his sword, changed in appearance to look more regal, but the same in function. “Your King shall be joining you shortly.” With a smile, he leaps out of his command vehicle, leaping from the pan into the fire.

He looked around him as his tanks brought their gauss cannons to bare, aiming at the onslaught of enemy forces. He watched with a grin as their specialized rounds began ripping through the metal hides of what the Amestrians dared call “tanks.” More jets soared across the sky, continuing their hectic battle for air superiority. “Specialists,” he says, referring to his two prizes from Amestris, plus that strange Drachman woman, “I take it you know how to act on your own, yes?” he chuckles. “I’m afraid it’s time to get to work.”

On his screen, he watched as small red dots, designator icons, appeared across the entire line. With a smirk he looks around, seeing a rather large and violent explosion before hearing the supersonic screech that came from his railgun artillery, miles away. He regained his serious, royal composure, remembering that wars were not just won with information and superior technology. There was skill, chance, and, most importantly, luck. And oh, did he like to make his own luck.

With a puzzled look, he listens in to a patched report of a squad of medieval-style soldiers with clunky weapons, causing some trouble not too far from him. “Anyone near Targets B-15, I-7, N-842, G6, and O-491, treat them as though they were armor.” After all, what kind of soldier wore a suit of armor to a battlefield, only to use guns? “I will be arriving shortly,” he says, running off to face off against these simpletons who obviously lacked any sense of style and modern technology. “Reinforce appropriately.”

[Guest]

Isabella couldn’t help but roll her eyes from what her commanding officer was saying. Now was a time for fighting, not a time for talking. Speeches and such were useless when men and women were dying around them, and for something as petty as revenge? “Quit your whining,” she thinks to herself. “This is what you wanted, right? Well, roll with it.” With a sigh, she gave the general a nod, showing him that she knew what he was asking her to do. Turning around, she quickly scanned the tactical map they had of the area. Several of her men and women were scrambling to keep information updated. Part of her wanted to help, but…

“What do we have going on?” she asks one of her subordinates. She listens as he explains everything that’s happened so far, only pausing to overhear the arrival of Northern forces to the scene. “Tell the men,” she commands the young man, who gives her a quick salute before heading over to a nearby radio. She continued staring at the map until the tell-tale vibrations of a helicopter reached her ears. Curling her gloved hands into fists, she couldn’t help be set off a few alchemic sparks. That pounding, thumping, pitter-patter of helicopter blades…

Again, her ears perked up from her commander talking to the East City general. Tataki, the offensive force to be reckoned with in Amestris. She sighed as her commander had, once again, left out information in favor of a “for honor, for glory, for king and country” speech. “Zai,” she says coolly to another man, “hand me that radio. I have some correcting to do.”

She grabbed the bulky radio from her Zai with a small nod. They were familiar with how she worked, how she acted with them. She didn’t have to worry about offending them. But East City?

“This is Major Isabella Galicia of Western HQ,” she says, watching Eastern forces arrive as her soldiers scramble to grab more figures for the tactical map, “and I’m afraid I’m your liaison with Western Forces for the time being.” She pauses for a moment, pondering whether that was too impolite, before shrugging out of apathy and moving on. “My foolish Superior has gone off into the battle to fight for valor and glory, and left me in charge of the counter-attack for Western Forces. I’d watch out, though, as I presume they’re bringing their heavy guns to b-“

She’s cut off as several high-velocity rounds of some sort slam into the battlefield a bit too close for her comfort. Danger close. “It’s like I’m planning a battle against myself,” she says aloud, drawing some curious and confused looks from her soldiers. “It’s nothing,” she says to them, watching as they slowly go back to their duties.

“Now, perhaps I can know who I need to talk to, so we can more effectively plan and execute a counter-attack against the Royal Task Force?” She relaxed her hands a bit as she saw the helicopter begin to descend by their command post. “Perhaps we can even meet face-to-face?”

[Guest]

Second Lt. Lyte Icarus felt a certain anxiety within the pit of his stomach. War...the young Ishvallan looked out of the window of the helicopter, and his crimson eyes were greeted by flames, smoke, blood, and combat. It was both beautiful and terrible at the same time, and had he been older Lyte might have described the sounds that he heard as a terrible melody of death and destruction. Alas, at his young age the young man only found the word 'horrible' coming to mind to describe what he could hear and see. The 2nd in Command of Eastern HQ was mercifully brought back into helicopter by his superior, who commanded his attention with mere words. "You know the drill, when we land you will go and assist West HQ in keeping everyone informed of what is happening, if theres any changes I want to know, am I clear?"

Lyte responded with a sharp "Yes sir!" His two words were filled with the discipline that he had learned over time from Tataki Masu, his immediate superior and one of the greatest men alive in the young man's opinion. How the General managed to remain so calm and so composed at a time like this was quite beyond Lyte. Whilst the helicopter descended upon the Western HQ, Lyte allowed himself to remember General Masu's words at the Eastern Command Center, feeling that perhaps personal morale would be generated from the effort.

"Sons and daughters of Eastern HQ, today is the day we bring vengeance down upon those who would dare to hurt the citizens and the country of Amestris, we shall strike swift and without mercy. We shall show them why we are dubbed Amestris's strongest offensive fighters. Hell shall rain down upon the heads of are enemies as we shield our brother and sister militants and the citizens of the great country of Amestris. We ship out now, get all the last minute preparations done with haste and absolute perfection."

As the helicopter landed, Lyte stepped out after his commanding officer then, after a salute towards the General, began to do the work that he had been assigned to do. It took very little time for the young man to find himself walking into the apparent operations center that was responsible for planning the entire defense of West City. At least, Lyte assumed that he was in the correct place when he spotted a woman on a comm. device requesting a meeting with someone who could aid in planning a counter-attack against Creta. And bingo was his name-o.

Lyte Icarus stepped forward and saluted before introducing himself, as apparently this lady was a Major, which was above his own rank. "2nd Lt. Lyte Icarus, 2nd in Command of the Eastern Forces. I was sent by my general, Tataki Masu, to aid in the defense of the West. May I be of assistance?" The young Ishvalan smiled quite cheerfully for someone who was in his position and location. As he was to recall sometime later on: 'The full gravity of the situation had not quite set in yet.'

[Guest]

She looked at the young man, trying the gauge his age. After spending a short moment pondering it, she reminded herself that she was a bad judge of such things, and decided to drop it altogether. “Lieutenant Lyte,” she starts, “rank titles and saluting are reserved for the office and parade grounds. As is that childish grin upon your face. We’re in a warzone. You either give orders, or follow orders. Now wipe that childish grin off your face. This isn’t a wargame; this is war. And people are dying.” She leans in close to him for a moment, adding, “Or do you not appreciate the gravity of the situation?” Backing away again, she fiddles with her gloves. “Now, would you kindly follow me so I can tell you what I can offer to this strike?”

Walking over to the large table that her subordinates are working over, she points to a series of units staying stationary behind the front line. “These are the units I’ve managed to get a hold of. I’m currently hoping that your forces will be able to supplement them in a counter-push, though I’ll admit right now that my plan is somewhat… half-baked.” Although she didn’t want to tell him directly, she did shake her hand from side-to-side, her way of trying to get the point across.

Pulling her folded fan out of her belt, she points at a particular spot on the map. “There’s a rock formation here, and it serves as a convenient meeting spot. It’s been largely ignored due to the terrain, but I’m sure your vehicles can withstand some… particularly rough terrain.”

Watching her subordinates move, add, and remove figures from the table, she ponders her plan of attack. “The Cretans are starting to turtle up. Our role is turning from defense to offense. The sooner we reorganize our joint forces, the sooner we can strike... the more vicious, the better. But, we have to wait for the right moment.” She pauses, turning to the Ishvallan lieutenant. “So, do you concur, little boy, or do you have a better idea?”

[Guest]

It wasn't long after stepping out of the Chinook before the chimera received his orders. He was to unload and then make his way to Dietrich. Simple enough. Daemon stepped back into the metal body and grabbed one of the crates, pulling it out of the craft without much trouble, placing it aside to make room for the rest. He repeated the process until the crates were all unloaded, and paused for a moment to figure out in which direction he needed to go. Grabbing some of the weaponry for himself (along with ample ammunition, to the demise of many other soldiers in need of extra), the man began to run toward his master.

A few people got in his way, but he made short work of them, shooting them directly in the head without much effort. Not many people were brave enough to stand up to a man who was seven feet tall. His boots gripped the ground enough to allow him to run at the highest speed possible, although it didn't cause him to be out of breath. This was nothing. He weaved through the battlefield, focused on getting to where he needed to go.

A sudden change in the wind and the air pressure caused him to stop dead in his tracks for a split second to assess the situation. A tornado. His muscles tensed as he narrowly avoided the clutches of the spinning winds, and continued to run along his path. Daemon passed a group of people that, if he had been able to see them, contained a man with long, red hair. Paying them no mind, he managed to reach Dietrich as the latter seemed to be headed off to join in the fight. The sound of a sword being pulled out of its sheath interrupted the other sounds of the battlefield. Bullets flying, people yelling, screaming, falling to the ground, whimpering, and vehicles pushing through the fragile human infantry units. He could smell the smoke, the metal, and most of all, the blood. It made him lose his stoic attitude for a moment, and he moved his tongue across his fangs. Maybe he'd have something better to do than follow Dietrich soon. "Orders?" He asked plainly, blindly following the sound of Dietrich's footsteps.

[Guest]

Cironis snapped a quick salute as his CO took off, he turned on his heel. He spent a few minutes looking around the area, memorizing the placement of tents, the grounds, where everything was, the sounds of war... Then he dropped to bended knee, bringing both hands up together in prayer. "Blessed by the lord which teaches my hands to war and fingers fight. My goodness and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me..." He stood once more before making his way to the command tent. A thousand things zipped through his mind at once as he approached Isabella and Lyte. The orginazation of troops, as well as supplies, tactics and counter tactics, who was in command, and who he could depend on... Well, that last one left only himself at the moment, at least until he could see how his officers preformed... This would be one helluva trial by fire for the newly organized Western Forces.

"Major Gallicia! Sit-rep! Lieutenant Lyte, good to have you with us."

[Dai]

A chilled shiver passed through his body as the fingertips touched his forehead. Where had... where had that hand come from? The redheaded Alchemist stood still for a second, confused as to what had gone on. Hell, he was confused as to how he'd gotten there in the first place. He'd walked out of the room, before being confronted by a short, black-haired woman. She had led him into another caravan, activated some kind of Alchemy and placed her fingers on his head. He felt a small shock, and then that cold shiver, and then... strange. Why was he here?

He began to think back, to his dismissal from Briggs, breaking up with Reila... God, that sucked. Breaking up with her was the worst, and when Dietrich had come to him with an offer to destroy Briggs in order to get his revenge... Well, he had taken it in his stride. He smiled softly, and remembered exactly what Dietrich had told him.

"You, mongrel. You are to remain behind the lines until you are needed." He had accepted his orders readily, and stepped into the Cretarian Uniform, which for some reason, felt a bit hotter than usual. Well, maybe it's because he was used to Briggs? He laughed it off and stepped into the fray, staring at the bustling soldiers under the Western sunlight, placing a hand into his left pocket (the one that didn't have the Stone in it) and traipsing over to where Dietrich stood, raising his right arm and saluting with sincere pride to be in the Cretarian Army.

"My king." He finished the salute, and knelt down to bow for the Golden Man, his king. Strange, this change seemed unusual for Dai...

{OOC - Don't worry too much about how Dai's acting unless you need to interact with him...}

[Guest]

Dietrich’s elegant walk through the warzone was interrupted by a video feed. He looked at it with curiosity, noting what appeared to be a large black figure stretching out over a portion of the battlefield. “The embodiment of Pride,” he says with a grin, bringing up a picture of a certain Xanthus Icarus. “Artillery batteries one, four, five, and seven, work in conjunction to UAV number one-eight-five-seven. He’ll be doing a thermal scan shortly. Keep the target well occupied, for you are well out of his grasp. However, if possible, make him fear the Reaper.”

“Finally,” he comments, looking over at his faithful companion, “my mutt-of-a-bodyguard has arrived.” Glancing over, he sees Daemon following him. “Stay close to me for now, mongrel. I have some business that I must conclude.”

His screen flashes red again, this time bringing up live video feed of a strange helicopter. The video zooms in on the particularly angry-looking general of Briggs. With a smirk, he reads through the case file he’s developed on her so far. “Pride, Mr. Ito, and the Queen of Briggs,” he thinks to himself. “We’re just the Lieutenant Colonel.”

”I believe I said I wanted that aircraft grounded,” he tells his mobile command center. “UAV number eight four zero dash five has visual confirmation on it. Have the pathfinders mark it, and break out the heavy Ack-Ack. Paint it bright enough for our jets to target it. I want it either grounded or destroyed NOW!”

Almost immediately, he noted that several of his soldiers had begun the laser designation process. Now, it was only a matter of his anti-air vehicles tracking the designators.

Dietrich was about to view a spectacular moment, when he was rudely interrupted by his man-servant. “Get up, you fool,” he says. “Perhaps you forgot it was unwise to stay still on the battlefield?” He scoffs at the thought, pacing back and forth. ”However, if you forget why you’re here, I do believe it’s to wreak havoc upon the forces that bear down upon us even now.”

Moving on, he motions to the mutt. ”If you haven’t eaten yet, I suppose now would be a good time to find yourself a meal,” he says. “Otherwise, I expect you to take on targets of opportunity.” Noting on his map that East forces were arriving, he switched over to a general communications channel for the RTF. “Our time to prove ourselves has come. Even when on offense we must defend, and when defending we must push back against out foes. Amestris might seem like a rock, solid and unbreakable, we are the water, taking it apart piece-by-piece while simultaneously maneuvering around it. So, my fellow Cretans, flow like the water, and keep our foes guessing.” Perhaps not the most inspiring speech, but still, the concept was there. Water was fluid, mobile, able to adapt, much like his forces, whereas Amestris had focused their forces, specialized to a fault, their capabilities set in stone by simple minds long ago.

He grins, hearing the sonic booms of the railgun artillery rounds screeching towards their destination. “From Creta with love, Colonel Icarus. And we have plenty more where that came from.”

[Guest]

Now that the battle was engaged, and the hot lead was flying, everything in Cironis mind became calm and cool, like the metal replacing near half his body. His presence reflected his calm, his hands and eyes steady in their gaze as he observed the charts, despite wearing nothing more than his uniform. Not even an armored vest, though he kept a rifle slung over his shoulder: HK G41 chambered in 5.56mm, with hologram sights, and a good old fashioned bayonet replacing the usual under barrel mount. "Fold this line back. I want the nearby squadrons to come about 90 degrees. We'll form a kill pocket. Goad them in with promises of higher ground, and then tear 'em down on all sides." Cironis looked to the other side of the charts, "I want eyes on sector Golf Two One Seven. Show me what's there." He looked over to the nearby screen, and nodded. "Tell those boys to dig in where they are. That's right where I need them. Their position WILL NOT fold."

And then reports of focused artillery fire came in. "DAMN IT! Get the Flak Guns spinning up. If it comes down on us, I don't want anything getting through!" Cironis looked to the charts once more. "Lieutenant Lyte, aid the Major in whatever manner she asks. 12th and 2nd companies, this is First Lieutenant Alairu, be ready to move... I'll be joining you in one minute." Those companies had been held in reserve, here at the field HQ, to be used at Cironis' disposal. The Ghost Wolf shook his head, and sighed. Stepping into the field once more was something Cironis was quite eager to do, but during a full-scale war... Against Creta? Cironis shook his head once more, his calm demeanor belying his nervous interior... He knew what was waiting. Cironis reached, tapping a button on the side of his headset, "Commander Black, this is First Lieutenant Alairu. I'm finalizing our defenses and getting ready to move out with the 12th and 2nd companies. Major Galicia is still here at the HQ awaiting the call to begin the counter-offensive. Point of interest, there's a squad held at sector Golf Two One Seven, I'll be joining them, in order to aid them in holding that position. Alairu out." He cut comms, and looked to Isabella, "Give 'em hell, Izzy." And headed out of the tent to his Jeep, to his men... To the War.

[Guest]

"Oh sweet redheaded man, it's such a shame you lost the only person you loved in this world. Hehe, no, it's a shame that you will have to lose your honor as well. Destroy Briggs. Yes...listen to the pounding of metal strings thrashing against the beats of your heart and all that you have built upon your life. Now...disappear and forget I was ever here." Harumi's dark grey eyes faltered from the man for a moment in concentration as her fingers strummed quickly along the frets. "Trigger," she whispered with a cruel smile that took pleasure in curling along her childish lips. And then she stopped. The low notes faded into the silence of the empty caravan. The one known as Dai stared into space as his mind delved into a dreamlike state. He swayed and she brushed her fingertips along his forehead for good measure. It seemed it was working with ease. Dietrich would be satisfied. However, Rumi herself was not. She had done so much for Creta, but nothing beneficial for her seemed to be dawning. Against her will, Aerugo was falling in South City. She received verbal reports from Rai in the battle. The lunkhead, Spade Aeries, was actually winning with his meager troops while the entire rest of the Amestrian army was here. How...just how was that possible? She didn't understand. It just didn't make any sense to her. Her calculations were way off, and it was only a matter of time before Aerugo lost that useless crater known as South City.

Whatever.

She had to finish things up here and leave as fast as she could. It was time to retreat and figure out better tactics to fully bring down those behind the shaded curtain: Aurelius and Hild Schwarz. Amestris had to fall by her power so that all could see the true strength that the Empire of the Rising Sun had been holding for centuries while the Amestrian bastards reveled in peace with their thumbs up their asses.

[EXIT THREAD]

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Father's basement was Aurel's paradise. Father's basement reminded Aurel of what never to become. The deadly sins...were very deadly indeed. That took care of the power-hungry bastard who was rejected by whatever god there was out there. It no longer mattered, however, because that was only history meant not to be repeated. There was only so much cliche that Aurel could take and Father's legacy was among them. "So long," he whispered into the darkness as flames sprung up, licking at the countless records, and bending their words into ashes.

Nothing remained of his past life next to Hild and her Fuhrerdom: the documents--the proof, was now gone. But still, the strings he had been pulling above the stage would no longer invisible once he pressed the button. Dietrich's dog, Harumi Tsukino, had set the game in motion when she tried to extract his memories in the car at the Annual Festival, and now... he would be the only one to ever remember them. Not forget, but remember. He wanted to thank her for allowing his plan to fall perfectly in place and himself for keeping such a perfect record of the calculated information she tried to remove. In the end, he had lost nothing, and gained the clear. No one was watching him or Central Headquarters anymore; it was empty...and quiet. Spade Aeries and his drunken army were zigzagging into the reclamation of South City. The Aerugese forces were almost completely depleted at this point. They would soon retreat and then Central Command would return to ruble. It was perfect, so perfect that the Annual Festival would be looked on as a pleasant memory in comparison.

Welcome to hell, Amestris.

It was coming, oh it was com-- He heard footfalls coming from the staircase and turned in his black velvet chair to set a pair of mismatched eyes on his step sister whom he loved with all that he was. "Hild," he cooed in sweet tones. Flipping long strands of silk raven hair behind him, he met her halfway, pulling her into his embrace with leather gloves. "It's almost time for the beginning. Soon, they will see us for who we really are. Are you ready?" Aurel breathed in a tense voice that hardly escaped his parched lips.

[Guest]

Click, click, click... The lighter's flint sparked a few times, before lighting up with a dim flame that would only brighten a little bit of the dim and dark Fuhrer's office. Really, it frustrated her. She had been comfortable in here, for the past while. Although she had come in to destroy Amestris from the inside, there were so many new people that she'd met, friends that she'd made, it was almost painful. But no, she had to do this. It was for their betterment, and the betterment of the people. If they were to destroy Alchemy in Amestris, then they would make the world easier to populate, and easier to save. A morbid smile crossed her face, and Hild dropped the lighter onto the memoirs that sat on the desk. A small orange flame grew, and began to spread, covering the papers in a matter of seconds. She almost felt as if she was burning a part of herself, but again - it was for the betterment of the world. Those memoirs were lies, parts of herself that she had created in the shape of "Fuhrer" Hild. "Fuhrer" Hild was about to die, and as such, this needed to leave. Her eyes dropped, and she sighed softly. No, it was time.

She turned away from the desk with the burning papers, and stepped out of the office to a deserted hallway. She had made perfectly clear - the soldiers were to stay home today. She was proclaiming it a military holiday in memory of the previous Fuhrer's death, so they were not to come to work. Why had she done that? They were trying to destroy the force that made up Amestris' military, and yet she had tried to spare as many of their lives as she could? Maybe she was just foolish, letting human emotions get in the way of the greater good. Heh. She was still weak. Hild's lone eye studied the walls that she'd be seeing for the last time, and she began to descend through the depths of the building, speaking a soft prayer as she went. Her footsteps resounded through the passages, and into a secret passageway - it lead to Father's Basement.

She could hear Aurel rummaging around in there, and so she stopped, placing her back to the wall and listening to what he was doing. He seemed to be doing something, maybe burning documents? The scent of burnt paper reached her sensitive nose - she was right. She smirked, and waited for a few seconds, before continuing down the stairs and moving around the corner to stare softly at the man that she had found to love with all her heart; what was left of it, at least.

"Hild," His voice was soft, cooing. She smiled at this, enjoying the dulcet tones of his voice for a second before continuing her approach, reaching for him and embracing him.

"It's almost time for the beginning. Soon, they will see us for who we really are. Are you ready?" Her smile turned from soft, to sinister, and Hild craned her neck up, reaching up on tiptoes and bringing her lips to collide with Aurel's. She took him in a deep kiss, before dropping back down to stare at his face. She began to reach up to her shoulders and drop the last remnants of her Amestrian Militant uniform, revealing the clothing she was now going to dub as her battle gear. The scarf hung lightly around her neck, and the feeling of the chilled draught that came through the basement causing goosebumps to grow on her pale skin. Her sinister smile softened once more, and she opened her mouth to speak in light tones.

"I'm ready, Aurel. I believe that we have hidden beneath this façade for far too long. I wish to show them my true self as well." That soft smile was filled with certainty and malice, now - all previous doubts and worries were dissipating in her eye. She was truly ready.

And up in the office, the last of the papers were fading away into ash, the fire disappearing, leaving the final slip atop the small pile - Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

He's not my brother.

And I love him.

[Guest]

Smoke chocked the battlefield as the confrontation continued. Cretan vs Amestrain, Royal Task Force vs The Amestrain Army. Indeed it was a battle of the ages, each side throwing out every trick in the book to defeat one another. One side to claim the West and defeat the Fuhrers once and for all. The other, to defend their homeland and push the enemy off of their soil. Blood flowed like a river, pooling in foxholes and artillery craters. The battle had become a slaughter, unlike any either faction had seen in decades. Who knew that a single battle would determine the fates of both sides? Only God himself, for those that believe he exists. To others, fate controls the destinies of the poor men and women dying in droves across this bloody plain of war. Some simply did not care, only fueled by the fires of battle and courage of their leaders. Today, would be a day long remembered by Creta and Amestris. Today, they would make history...

Brigadier General Black barked orders to the Central line, his Black Templars nearly single handedly pushing the Cretans into a defensive stance. Comm chatter was sporadic and choppy, but hopeful. All across enemy lines, the cursed Cretans were taking huge losses and falling back. "Commander Black, this is First Lieutenant Alairu. I'm finalizing our defenses and getting ready to move out with the 12th and 2nd companies. Major Galicia is still here at the HQ awaiting the call to begin the counter-offensive. Point of interest, there's a squad held at sector Golf Two One Seven, I'll be joining them, in order to aid them in holding that position. Alairu out." cut through the static, clear as day. Sky was going to war, and the Cretans were about to learn the full fury of the West. "Sky, it's great to hear from you. The front lines are holding strong, and I've been coordinating with all defenses. So far we seem to be holding on all fronts, and the enemy is turtling up. I agree, time to take the fight to them. Take the Omega's(2nd Company) and the Harbingers(12th Company), and lead them proudly my friend. For Amestris!" Jet finished, cutting to the channel with Major Galicia.

"Major, hope the evacuation is going well. I know the defenses on the wall are holding, most of the Southern-most prong has been pushed back to join the Central prong here, but they've begun digging in. They've taken substantial losses and are on their heels, time to push them out of Amestris. As soon as the Luna Wolves(5th Company) are ready, lead them alongside the Eastern Forces and General Masu on a counter-offensive, I will take my Templars, as well as the Black Guardians(6th Company), and charge the enemy front lines, try to soften them up a bit for you. On your signal, we'll take the fight to them. I have faith in you Major, don't let me, no, Amestris, down. Black out," Jethro said, his warriors letting out lethal salvos of explosive rounds with every signal given by their Sergeants.

Suddenly three tanks burst forward towards his group, their cannons trained on the Black Templars. "Devastators, to the front! Teach them the fury of Amestris!" Jet yelled out, two squads of men carrying nothing but heavy weapons moving to the front lines. One trained a missile launcher on the tank, tugging the trigger to release the rocket. It hit true, the tank exploding like a fiery inferno. Another trooper heaved a weapons similar to those on the side of the Stormhawks, firing a bright lance of burning energy into the second tank, making the first explosion pale in comparison. The third tank, having lost its two companions and taken some extensive damage from the explosions, slowed to a halt, smoke billowing from the craft. Two men were able to get out before the ammo overheated and blew the tank sky high, but neither escaped the blast. Jet smiled at the deadly precision of his warriors, each shot killing an opponent. It was as if the Gods themselves were guiding their aim, pushing Amestris to victory. Black could see it easily within grasp.

"Black Templars, Black Guardians, hear me! Soon, we shall take the fight to the enemy! We shall show them that we will not ideally standby and let them take our land, they will have to fight for every, last, inch! On my command, we show them what the West is truly made of! Today we make history my friends, today we claim victory!" the General exclaimed over the comms, a roaring cheer echoing from the troops all across the front lines. Soon, the truebattle would begin...

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