[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Colonel Corbec *Smacks head repeatedly on wall.* I launched a whole viral campaign to raise awareness, and two people respond. Where have I seen this before?[/quote] what about me! What, I'm not good enough? Just kidding.

*Smacks head repeatedly on wall.* I launched a whole viral campaign to raise awareness, and two people respond. Where have I seen this before?

Treachery ftw!

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] GezaB K so she was poisoned AND shot through the heart? pwn? alot?[/quote] No. I shot Halifax through the heart. Pyroshark poisoned your wife. You know the link's at the top of the thread? Furthermore, did you read the story?

K so she was poisoned AND shot through the heart? pwn? alot?

Wait... You never died. Your wife did, but you just collapsed into tears. I shot Halifax through the heart, and Pyroshark poisoned whoever it was that married you.

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Colonel Corbec [quote][b]Posted by:[/b] GezaB I'm still pissed off that I died in the last one... [/quote] Ah. You died a year ago. In the first one. [/quote] how the -blam!- did I die anyway?

[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] GezaB I'm still pissed off that I died in the last one... [/quote] Ah. You died a year ago. In the first one...

I'm still pissed off that I died in the last one... or someone died... ?

Sorry, Double Post. But I better say while I'm here that the next chapter will be released this time next week.

“OK.” Corbec nodded. “I take it that they’re waiting for me in there?” He pointed at the Mansion, while getting to his feet. “Yes sir. But one more vital piece of news.” Xbox Halo Guy said. Corbec patted the tombstone of his dead wife before turning to walk back to the mansion. “You were saying…” Corbec prompted as they started their stroll. “We found The Forsaken centre of operations. If you turn to the last few pages, you’ll find a full report...” Corbec nodded, noting the several high-resolution photos taken of a far-off, vibrant tropical island chain. “The Jacutan Archipelago. Makes sense, but they’re hardly the first terrorist group to operate out of that region. When did you find this out?” Corbec asked. “When, sir? The images came through just now. One of our patrolling destroyers picked up strange radio signals purely by chance in the region. Reconnaissance Planes were sent up and there you have it. If you look at one of the photos… That one. It shows a small port in that bay there, that one just there.” Xbox Halo Guy was pointing to a picture of a small yet bustling port, partially concealed by a tall and foliage-covered weathered rock wall. There were small huts clustered around wooden piers, on which people, looking small enough to be toys, were frozen in their work forever. “How can you be certain this is The Forsaken? I don’t want a raid or an air strike to find out we attacked a bunch of pirates and nothing more.” Corbec explained. And his scepticism was well placed. This was indeed a port, but nothing distinguishing marked it out as a Forsaken base, let alone their centre of operations. “If you’ll turn to the next photo, then you’ll see.” Xbox Halo Guy prompted. Corbec flipped to the next image pinned by the clipboard. It was a zoomed in view on part of the port. It displayed the largest of all the port buildings, constructed out of a dried straw roof and bamboo walls. Along one side, a black banner with a white, clenched fist grasping a sword was proudly hung. The symbol of The Forsaken. “Alright. The Forsaken are there after all. So, they have a presence at a port, but that doesn’t mean they own the whole Archipelago.” Corbec said, still not entirely convinced. “Sorry, sir. If you could turn to the next picture. I was talking about a different one.” Corbec flicked to the next photo. It was Pyroshark. The image was even more zoomed in than the previous, displaying even the people scurrying around the port in a recognisable way. And one of those people, undoubtedly, was Pyroshark. The most wanted man on the planet, discovered by Flodland, the most powerful of Nations. [i]So, Pyroshark. If I have to burn that whole Island Chain into cinders to get you to flee your little hideaway and into the sights of my guns, then that’s what I’ll do.[/i] “Is he still there?” Corbec asked, impatient for more information now. “Report is that he boarded a truck about five minutes after that was taken, and headed deeper into the island. Satellite imagery has confirmed this. It also showed large Forsaken encampments and installations on that island, as well as others.” “Such as?” “Training Camps, Radio Stations, Ammunition Dumps, Motor Pools, Ports, the island you just looked at even had a small airport on it. This place looks like it houses an entire Army” “How could you tell?” Corbec queried. “I mean, surely these areas were camouflaged?” “That they were, but our satellites used infrared sweeps. Heat Detection’s a wonderful thing, no?” The duo reached the bottom of a small set of stone stairs, leading from the garden proper to a raised patio lined with old Cast Iron railings crated into intricate designs. “What are your orders sir?” Xbox Halo Guy asked as they took the first of the steps. “Tell the Navy that no units are to show suspicious activity. Perhaps its best to keep these bastards in a false sense of security. I won’t bring this news up in the conference now, lest we get The Forsaken all panicked.” They came to the top of the stairs and stopped for a moment. “What we need now is a quick and impressive victory, Xbox Halo Guy.” Corbec announced. “And I don’t mean a full-blown war, we can’t afford that. No, something small, but emphatic. Something that would cheer up the people and divert their attention from our ailing economy, at least until that matter’s dealt with.” Corbec handed back the clipboard, started off again for the Mansion and rubbed his chin. “Any ideas, sir?” Xbox Halo Guy ventured, curious. “Perhaps.” Corbec replied cryptically. “Right, well I have one last thing for you.” Xbox Halo Guy handed over a folder. “I won’t keep you though, they’re waiting in the Lancaster Suite.” “Very well then.” Corbec said in a distracted sort of way, taking the folder, opening the back door and disappearing inside. Corbec filled his speech to the press with reassuring words and promises of revenge on those who had struck such a savage blow. He whipped up the country into a frenzy with eloquent tones, and a masterful control of his native language. He star-struck the press and everyone watching the event live with his charismatic nature and natural skill with words, some observers even reckoned he was the best orator of the decade, if not his generation. His promises of vengeance were far from hollow however. Corbec’s people knew that this man lived up to his promises, and had guided them through many a tough situation, only for their beloved country to come out the other side with even better prospects. When Corbec finished, he did so to a standing ovation and roars of approval. Eventually, a chant of “Hail Corbec! Hail Corbec! Hail Corbec!” Broke out. Once again, he’d charmed the world. Later, before he settled in for the night, Corbec would check the almost forgotten folder that Xbox Halo Guy had given him before his brilliant speech. He opened it up and briefly scanned the contents. Something about a full and complete account of the circumstances surrounding the attack, including preparedness for, and the immediate response to, the attack. Apparently all it needed was for him to scribble his signature at the bottom to authorise it. Too tired to care, Corbec scrawled his name on the dotted line at the bottom, set the folder aside and got some well-earned rest. [i]Later that night.[/i] Back in Flondon itself, the rain was pouring down. Some joked that it was as if an entire ocean was being tipped on their heads. Others in more sombre moods mused that it was as if the heavens cried for Floodland’s loss. JS096 scampered along through a deserted industrial district in the pitch black night. No lights were on around him, and the infernal rain-clouds above blocked out any star or moon light, understandably making vision hard. Nearly running into a wall several times, JS finally found what he looked for. A derelict warehouse’s side door, with a sword held in a clenched fist carved onto it. It was tough to make out, but JS had made this run a few times before, so knew his way. He knocked on the door three times, paused, three times again, paused, then once more. A shutter opened, pouring stale yellow light out. “Oppression rules…” Stated a rough voice from within. “…And The Forsaken rise.” JS replied, completing the code phrase. “Welcome, valued friend.” [Edited on 07.08.2007 12:16 PM PDT]

Panting hard, Xbox Halo Guy steadied himself against the tree and handed Corbec a clipboard. He arched an eyebrow and took the clipboard, sifting through the clipboard’s papers. It was indeed news. Reports flooding in from the Occupied Territories about the armed insurrections wracking them. “Some good stuff in there, sir.” Xbox Halo Guy managed between pants and huffs. “I can see.” Corbec replied. “The 24th Mechanized… and the 205th Infantry…” He started, but Corbec gestured for him to stop. “Get some air first.” He ordered without looking up from the clipboard. Xbox Halo Guy took some deep breaths, then tried again. “The 24th Mechanized Division and the 205th Infantry Division confirm they recaptured Petrovice just now sir. They report low casualties and that the entire Septagonian rebel command has been killed or captured there. They also send their thanks to you for deploying them to that front so they might achieve such feats.” “They’re quite welcome.” Corbec smiled while changing the page on his clipboard. “Anything else?” “Yes sir. As you know, a third of the Undergroundican Provisional Army defected two days ago, back with “The Forsaken” video. Well, they’ve finally got their act together it seems. One thousand tanks have been spotted moving South through Undergroundica, heading for the capital, by a recon plane.” Corbec turned the clipboard to face Xbox Halo Guy, pointing at a picture showing a far-off column snaking into the countryside. “That’s the one, sir.” “Infantry strengths? Any air cover?” Corbec asked. “No way of telling just yet. Now, the Fifth Army already holds the Capital, since they were garrisoned there. General Ardias informs us that he is more than confident that his forces can hold them off.” “We need to do more than just hold them off, you know. I’ll consult with my General Staff tomorrow, but I want the Third Air Corps, along with the Fifth Army, to decimate those tanks before they even get close to the capital city.” Corbec changed his page again. “But it all seems to be going well generally. However, the Undergroundican Eastern Oilfields, I can’t find anything about them here, or the Ore Deposits in Septagonia…” “You needn’t worry, sir. The Septagonian Resistance was never that powerful anyway-” “I knew.” Corbec hissed. “Of course, sir.” Xbox Halo Guy apologised. Corbec did know full well about the Resistance, and he hated it when people told him things he already fully understood. “Well, they would never have attempted to attack the Ore Deposits, and they were lucky to have taken Petrovice back in the first place. As for the Eastern Oilfields the Undergroundicans have already made some attempts to recapture or destroy them, but they have been all repulsed, taking heavy losses.”

[i]Two Days Later.[/i] “Callous people of Floodland, hear me!” Pyroshark began. He wore a simple white T-Shirt and blue denim jeans, which almost concealed the big Army-Grade boots he wore. The bastard himself was back, as Corbec had seen him all that time ago with the first Death Game. He looked far more haggard though. Corbec wasn’t surprised. It must be hard to fight the world’s strongest power, he reasoned. Pyroshark had grown out his hair it seemed, his brown hair now hung around his ears and his skin had a strong tan to it. He was clearly unshaven, and a little more burly since the last time Corbec had seen him. “Vengeance has come for your disgusting treatment of the lands you occupy illegally!” He paused, hatred in his eyes. “Every life you’ve taken. Every last child who died because of you. Every home burnt by your troops. Well this! This is our revenge! The destruction of your “Western Tower,” the nerve centre for your oppressive DCP, is our outcry! Our outlet for the hatred we feel for you!” Pyroshark took another pause, calming down. On his left arm was a black armband displaying a clenched fist in white, grasping a sword. The same insignia was seen on the black, wall-filling banner behind him. He stood with five other people, some women, some males. They all wore black clothing, and bright white hockey masks over their faces. “You see, we are The Forsaken! Those left to suffer and rot while you grow fat and indulgent! But we, you know, have suffered more than any person ever should…” The others around him removed their masks, revealing their identities. Each one was a survivor of the annual Death Games, a young man or woman forced to fight each other to the bitter end, but all on live television for amusement. “But it hasn’t ended! Righteousness has only one allegiance, and that is with the oppressed! So I urge the oppressed people of the occupied nations to rise up! Fight the Floodian monster wherever you see him!” Pyroshark nodded to the man beside him, who walked off with one other person, then came dragging Sniper McGee-the Floodian Minister Of Defence-and his wife into view. They were naked, bound by ropes and gagged by tape. Both showed signs of a terrible beating. Sniper McGee’s light brown hair was matted with blood, probably his own. Next, Pyroshark calmly took a pistol handed to him by one of the Death Game survivors as Sniper and his wife were shoved to the ground, facing away from him. The Death Game survivors gathered around seemed to be smiling. Sniper McGee’s wife was whimpering quietly, while Sniper himself just scowled at the ground. Without saying a word, Pyroshark raised his pistol. [i]Bang![/i] The pistol roared, spraying Sniper McGee’s brains onto the floor. His wife started to scream, but Pyroshark adjusted his aim and calmly blew a crater into her head as well. Pyroshark looked up from his grisly work. “This is war, Corbec.” Corbec turned off the his PDA, and along with it, the recorded video that Pyroshark’s new gang, “The Forsaken,” had distributed. He sat leaning against the big old Oak tree that shaded Sally Sabar’s grave. He yawned, looking up at the last, dying blue light of the day. A slight, cold breeze slid through the clear midsummer evening, rustling leaves in the trees. Corbec didn’t look much older, despite the trying times while he held the Floodian throne. His short blonde hair was still soft to the touch, and his blue eyes still had the power to charm a lady. Fairly tall, he was dressed in an immaculate black pinstripe suit, and wore gleaming black leather shoes. Only a quick walk away was the William Watts Mansion, a two floored house built in the Italian manner, decorated with stucco and a front entrance and tower in the baroque style. Owned by a multi-millionaire oil tycoon, the man who had originally offered for Sally Sabar to be buried here. For the past two days, MI5 Director Xbox Halo Guy had insisted that Corbec remain hidden away in a secure bunker in the middle of nowhere until the danger had passed. It was only now, two days later, that Corbec was allowed to hold a press conference at the William Watts Mansion to address the situation. It had certainly been an eventful six years while he held the throne. It seemed a lifetime ago, back when Corbec made a plan to secretly murder the true Royal Family and take the Floodian Crown. (A point worthy of note is that Pyroshark is the only living person, excepting Corbec, who knew of this scheme.) Then Corbec rescued the voluptuous Sally Sabar at that time, and then Undergroundica marched its Army across Northern Floodland, before Corbec-now leading Floodland-struck back and conquered the attacking country. Of course there was when Corbec and Sally managed to almost single-handedly stop the rogue “Grizzled Ancients” before they raised an unstoppable army. But then, after the invasion of Septagonia, the abominable Pyroshark began his terrorist campaign. Aiming to capture Corbec and key Cabinet Ministers, Pyroshark attacked a meeting between Septagonian leaders and Floodland. His attempt failed, but he killed Sally instead, robbing Corbec of his one true love. A year after that, Corbec had come up with a groundbreaking idea: The Death Games. Once a year, young people were snatched from the streets without warning and forced to fight until only one survived. And until now, it had served its purpose well. The wider public of the Occupied Territories were frightened of being selected for the Death Games, especially since details were never released as to how many there would be per year. And, with that fear in mind, most of those who would’ve revolted were scared into submission. However, quite the furore developed in the wider world over these Death Games. The International Community, a collection of rich industrial powers, was quick to condemn the Floodian Empire for the Death Games, and immediately stopped trade with Floodland until the Death Games ended. With no rich, prosperous markets to trade with, and the high costs of maintaining its armed forces, Floodland faced an economic crisis. However, Corbec devised a cunning plan. The International Community relied on Oil to operate, and almost all of that Oil came from poor countries, with too little money to pick who they sold to on moral terms. So, Corbec went on dozens of diplomatic visits and showered these poor countries with praise and what money he could spare. The end result was he bribed them. Seeking to help their new friend, the poor nations slashed costs of Oil Imports to Floodland for the next fifty years, and cut supply to the International Community by 75%, while tripling their prices to them overnight. Suddenly paralysed by Oil shortages-and therefore energy shortages-the International Community was forced to end its Trade Embargo after only a month. This had been a vital point in Floodian Imperial history, as not only did it mark a significant and shrewd victory over the International Community for Corbec, but it won him even more support from his people, and the strong friendship of the leading Oil Producers. Of course, all that hard work was wasted now. The Floodian Industrial Average was plummeting, the Stock Exchange lay in ruins, and Corbec’s best economists predicted worse to come. Corbec rubbed his chin, searching his mind for a solution. What he needed was a quick and impressive victory that would unite the Empire, and divert its attention from what was going wrong, even for just a short while. “You bring news?” Corbec said, watching Xbox Halo Guy dashing over from the Mansion. Xbox Halo Guy was the head of both the Foreign and Domestic intelligence departments-MI5 and MI6 respectively. He was a very short man, and with an analytical nature almost verging on sinister. [Edited on 07.08.2007 1:07 AM PDT]

But something went wrong. Though they didn’t know it, the Janitor had succeeded in tampering with detonation cords for all the explosives along the Westernmost support columns. So, when the bombs on the eastern pillars exploded, these did not. And even while some blew up anyway because of earlier explosions, it wasn’t enough. The full explosive force acting on the Eastern pillars obliterated them, and then touched off the Diesel Fuel in the generators, while the Western ones were badly mauled, they still stood. The explosion, a combination of searing Diesel Fuel, superheated gases from the explosion, the shrapnel of concrete slabs and metal shards, punched upwards through the five lowest floors. The force shattered windows on the neighbouring Flondon Stock Exchange, and turned the glass into even more shrapnel, tearing people apart. But it didn’t stop there. The flames of the burning Diesel weakened the trusses supporting the floors, making the floors sag. The explosion had already devastated the steel infrastructure of the building, and left weaker exterior support columns to hold up the rest of the tower. If the plan had gone perfectly, then the building would just collapse in on itself, as the weakened lower floors would not be able to support the tremendous weight of those above. But the plan hadn’t gone perfectly. The Western Tower had been robbed of the two Eastern Support Columns, meaning it had no support for that side of the tower excepting the steel exterior supports. Now these were on the point of melting, bathed in blazing Diesel, so it was only a matter of time before the whole construction came toppling over to one side. And that it did. Exactly two minutes after the initial blast, the Western Tower came crashing down. With the wail of tortured metal and its terrified occupants, it fell like a giant domino into the flank of the Eastern Tower, which was still filled with clerks, businessmen and secretaries. The upper section of the Western Tower, which was still very much intact, ploughed a gouge into the side of the Eastern Tower, tearing a wide hole through twenty floors before it lodged there. For a minute more, the Western tower leaned entirely on its Eastern companion, both now bleeding a hail of glass and steel. At the end of that minute, with a gut wrenching groan, audible for miles around, the tower continued its descent. The top of the Western tower had actually [i]snapped[/i] from the lower section, and plummeted alone under gravity while the rest smashed into the ground, throwing a dust cloud of glass shards and other material high into the air, obscuring the sun. The total number of fatalities wouldn’t become clear for another two years, but in the space of three minutes, 4,000 people, DCP personnel, innocent bystanders, Stock Exchange bankers and rescue workers had been killed. More would die in months to come from the thousands of tons of toxic debris resulting from the collapsed Tower. They consisted of more than 2,500 contaminants, more specifically: 50% non-fibrous material and construction debris; 40% glass and other fibres; 9.2% cellulose; and 0.8% asbestos, lead, and mercury. There were also unprecedented levels of dioxin and PAHs from fires which burned for three days. Some of the dispersed substances (crystalline silica, lead, cadmium, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons) were carcinogenic; other substances caused kidney, heart, liver and nervous system deterioration. In addition, the economic aftermath was terrible. For a few hours, the Treasury lost contact with some banks in the immediate region, but was quickly restored. However, the stock exchange building had been ruined, coated in toxic dust and an alternative site would not be found for a whole week. The Floodian Industrial Average (FIA) stock index fell by 684 points, or 7.1%, to 8920, its biggest ever one-day point decline. By the end of the week, the FIA had fallen by 1500 points in its largest one-week drop ever recorded. Such was the result of the world’s most devastating terrorist attack. [Edited on 07.12.2007 2:42 AM PDT]

[b]A Day Of Infamy.[/b] [i]Five years after the first Death Game.[/i] Three years of painstaking planning and operation was finally coming to fruition today. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most effective and audacious single piece of planning ever developed. And, should this plan succeed, it would be the most devastating Terrorist attack ever seen. At the Heart of Flondon-the capital city of Floodland-stood two of the worlds tallest skyscrapers, each only half a minutes walk away from each other and each 150 storeys high. Dubbed “The Two Towers,” they were modern buildings constructed out of glass and steel, and with four highly reinforced concrete support pillars. One, the Western Tower, was the headquarters of the Department of Civil Protection. Commonly abbreviated into DCP, it served alongside MI5 as a form of Secret Police for monitoring the population, preventing Terrorist or dissident activity, and assisting Police Investigations where the cases were important enough to require their attention. However at this time, the building also housed the nerve centre for the Death Games series. The Eastern Tower was the Flondon Stock Exchange Building. A place where shares in companies were sold and bought in their millions every week, and where a man could make his name and propel himself to fortune in a day, all by the cunning game of Business. The Two Towers loomed over the whole city and its smaller skyscrapers, observing the traffic, parks, museums and daily life of the heart of a dictatorship. The Two Towers were essentially as immovable as mountains and part of the personal landscape of every person in Flondon. More often than not, anyone lost in the city only had to look up and use the buildings as waypoints to find their way again. But, with this plan, one of those towers was going to disappear forever. A few blocks away from the towers, in the rented basement of a high-class Gym, a tunnel had been dug in complete secrecy. It was made with such skill and determination gifted to only those who were unshakeable in their cause, and possessed a brilliantly complex system. It traversed the space underground the city and headed for the Western Tower. It dipped underneath other basements or the Underground train system, using pulley systems to carry excavated dirt and debris away. But, after months of constant digging, the tunnel had been completed about an hour ago. That hour had been the most vital of the entire operation. As soon as a hole had been made in the Western Towers basement, a select team had slipped in unnoticed to silently secure the area. The underground level housed four large, noisy backup generators running on Diesel, and the vital support columns. Each square column being the width of three human beings laid on the ground with their feet on their shoulders, in addition, they had been mixed with Carbon Nanoparticles for added toughness. The team, all ex-Septagonian or Undergroundican Army professionals, set about their work. They wired up charges of High Explosives, in such a quantity that would make even the most hardened of Explosives Experts think twice before using. The plan was to take down the building above like it was some kind of colossal, scheduled demolition, and that by removing these columns at the base of the building, the structure above would collapse on itself, heading straight downwards. A wide combination of explosives was applied. TNT, Dynamite, ANFO, PETN and HMX amongst others were applied [i]very[/i] liberally. The terrorists were working on the motto that: “The more they used, the better.” Furthermore, each explosive charge was to use a three-step explosive train: A fulminate detonator, followed by the primary explosive booster and the main charge of the secondary explosive. Normally such an attempt would take far longer than an hour, especially to set up a system in which all the explosives went off simultaneously. But, the terrorists were driven by hatred and carried out their task with determination, speed and a flawless precision. Once the explosives were all prepared and ready to fire, their users withdrew along the tunnel to their starting position back underneath the Gym, they blocked the tunnel up with heavy equipment-for fear of an explosive backwash reaching them. Meanwhile, as the terrorists prepared to make a hasty exit in the wake of the chaos made by the explosion, something went wrong. One of their number had worked temporarily as a cleaner in the Western Tower, and from that they learned that the Basement was a rarely visited place. But still, someone did go down there at the worst time possible. In the basement, a janitor pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. The Western Tower above was a strict no-smoking zone, so he couldn’t light up in there. And furthermore, the exits and entrances to the building were protected by dozens of armed guards, and if he wanted to go outside to smoke, he’d have to wait for ages while he was searched in a rigorous security check. So, more often than not, he just came down here to do it. There was never anyone here, except on the rare occasions that some mechanics were needed to sort something out. He lit a cigarette, the flame lighting up the pitch black area for a moment. He let the acrid smoke fill his lungs before breathing out again, but then, he realised he’d seen something in the darkness. Just for a second, while the lighter was on, and it was so brief that he was lucky to have seen it. He got his lighter again and started it, the flickering flame illuminating a small island of space around him. He knelt down on the floor and picked up a handful of cables snaking along the floor. “What?” He said quietly, taking out the cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor. He followed the cables as they trailed along, winding one way then another. Eventually, he traced them to one of the support pillars, and by the glow of his lighter he saw the explosives the Terrorists had taken so much care to set up. The whole column seemed to be plastered with the stuff, he saw C4, Nitro-glycerine, and other explosives he’d never even heard of before. Not wasting any time, he grabbed cables and started pulling them out of place. He had no idea what he was doing, but he reasoned that something had to be done, and that was the first thing that came into his head. He yanked blue cables out of place, pulled on red cables without knowing what he was doing and threw black cables away over his shoulder. Really he had no idea what he was doing, but was caught up in a panicked frenzy and didn’t stop. But alas, his efforts were in vain. A moment or two after the Janitor started, the Terrorists detonated the lethal payloads nestled under their target's noses. [Edited on 07.12.2007 2:36 AM PDT]