Algerianbanian Terrorists

[Algerianbania]

One year and six months ago, an failed assassination attempt on the President of Algerianbania was committed by a terrorist group calling them selves The Panda Poachers. The group was formed from the remaining resistance of the Strip People, the inhabitants of a small peninsula on Algerianbania's southern border, which was recently conquered by the country. Following the attack, the group sent a letter, to Chaseeta Esach, the Secretary of State for Algerianbania. Why the letter was sent to him, no one is really sure of. The letters reads as follows.

Dear Secretary of State, Chaseeta Esach,

       We are the Panda Poachers, an elite terrorist group who shall devastate your nation, and bring fear into your people's eyes. You panda-men had defiled and dishonored the people of the Strip Lands. We are the men that shall remedy and repay the destruction you have brought. We are responsible for the attempted assassination of your president. Though it failed, what it planned to do did not. Your people are right now in a state of fear and worry. Their own leader had a rocket shot at him, right in blind daylight, in front of thousands of people.

And we shall do more. Create more fear, destruction, death, and another round of fear. Fear, fear, fear. That is our goal. We are extremely good pharmacists for dishing out the one and only prescription for you animal-fuckers: fear. We are your people. We have the same accents, the same face , same hair color, same skin color. Everything that makes the Algerianbanian people the Algerianbania people, we have. We will blend in and strike. We will strike and then disappear into the night. Fear will ensue. Fear, fear, fear. That is our drug. The more there is the more we live.

We are the Panda Poaches. We blend in, strike, disappear. We live on fear. You saw a minor example of what we can do. You will see more. More fear. More pain. But not soon. We have just given you a sample of our power. We will strike again, but not for a long, long time. By then there will be no more fear, and will need to come out of hiding again to feast. Feast on the fear of your people. You should feast too. Feast on what every morsels of happiness you have hidden away now. Feast on them, for when we return, you won't be able to consume them anymore. Fear, fear fear. We live on fear.

-The Panda Poachers

There have been no signs of the group since.

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[Algerianbania]

The Driver sat down in the abandoned warehouse at his desk. Above him was a solitary light bulb hanging from a string. It creaked back and forth, its feeble light flickering with every movement. Place his open briefcase on top of the desk, the Driver began rifling through papers. Maps, documents, bills, ledgers, coordinates, photos, letters, telegrams, phone transcripts, and other documents that a typical chauffeur shouldn't have. The Driver's eye focused on one photo, a boy, leaning against, a pillar at a metro stop in downtown Tyuo Refery.

The boy was the son of a General. A very famous General. General Hjuylio, the father of the current president, and one of the many war heroes during the Reformation. This 15 year old boy was not only the much younger brother of the president, but he would be the first target. The Driver hunched over the maps and documents, and began to plan out the attack.

[Quoveri]

OOC: I'm gonna go out on a limb here to describe Artuy. Please correct me if I get anything wrong.
The evening had arrived. Although no set time could've indicated this, it was well known. The sky had begun to blush a deep orange and pink, the clouds reflecting the newfound colors with a unique grace. The sun had begun to melt like a stick of butter into the horizon, and the first shops had begun to close. The easily recognizable chatter of the marketplaces across the city had begun to subconciously die down. A rush hour had taken the public transportation system, and people seemed to be moving in a slower motion - evidently tired from a day's hard work.

One of the main avenues, however, lacked the characteristic kiosks and stands. It was occupied by the most ritzy of retailing businesses, their glittering storefronts displaying a mechanic perfection that seemed to lack basic character. Mannequins donning what appeared to be clothes with headache-inducing prices lined the windows that smiled a blank smile upon the sidewalk.

It was on this avenue that a Jaguar rolled forth, its pristine frame glinting in the evening sunset. The windows had been conspicuously tinted, almost begging for suspicious attention. Its black paint screamed authority - but nothing compared to the two mini flags on either side of its front. Although not immediately recognizable due to their size, any knowledgeable Algerianbranian citizen would identify it as Quoveri's flag after several moments of mental computation.

In the back seat sat a man, who's appearance can only adequately be described as crisp. His suit was obviously brand new, his ghostly blond hair combed back with intensity. His face was pale, giving away his young age of thirty five. His eyes were a bright green and had the aura that they were x-raying when he stared.

This man was Carl Esco, the Commissioner of the Department of Commerce for the Confederate Boroughs of Quoveri. The car was headed to a munitions factory outside the city. He had just departed from his hotel.

OOC: My idea is that he gets ambushed by the terrorists (theres money in the car)

[Algerianbania]

OOC: Quo, That would be the second attack. Then comes hostage, then national monument, then mass killing/assassination. But who knows if the group will be successful enough to get to that point. Ooh! Foreshadowing. By all means keep Mr. Esco alive in RP, and a short bit after the second attack, I will ounce him.

And I need a country who is willing to supply arms to the PP. PM me if your interested. Do not state your interest openly.

Thanks. That's all.



Warning: There is a section in this post that some may find disturbing. The original version was much more graphic, but I decided to edit the section greatly, as I do not have the stomach to write it. Never-the-less, I still feel a slight bit queasy posting it, so if you are like me at and have a semi-weak stomach, I suggest you don't read it. It is highlighted in red.

IC: The newly created Internal Defense Agency (IDA) had had virtually no activity for the past 14 months. After the attack a year and a half ago, there really hadn't been much to build off of. Sure there were a few leads, but most of those led to dead ends or were just mindless communications between associates before the attack. For 4 months these useless leads were followed up, but after that there was dead silence. No communication, no rumors, no possible members of the so called Panda Poachers.

So, Agent Adrian Fuliuki wasn't to worried about anything happening when he went on his lunch break. Plopping down in the plush leather seats of his black sedan, Adrian put the keys in the ignition. It started. Just like a normal car should. The car back out of the parking space, and Adrian drove out of the garage, giving a kind nod to Ted, the attendant at the gate. Yes, everything was normal in the world. There was no overly suspicious activity in which many peoples lives could be in danger, Adrian thought as he drove down a nice Nikin road. He couldn't have been more wrong.

At that same moment, Jeffery Hjuylio was running down a street at breakneck speed. He turned a corner and found himself on Gerion Street, which contained the busiest shopping mall in the country. Hundreds of people where wandering about the street happily, only to be shoved in the shoulder by a 15 year old running run 15 miles an hour. Jeffery was being chased, by who and why, he did not know.

He had first seen the strangers lurking near his school while he waited for the chauffeur to arrive with the car. Slightly spooked, Jeff began to walk away from the strangers, only to notice that they followed right behind. He began to pick up speed, and was about to cross the street when he saw another one on the other side, hold something in his hands that looked like a silenced pistol. He tried to cross left, but there again, was another one of these stalkers. Turning right he began to run along the block.

This continued for a quite some time. If Jeffery wanted to go one place, there was someone there, preventing him from going there. It was almost as if they were trying to direct him to one location. And here he was at Gerion Street. Jeff looked back. There they were, three of them, in all black, walking slowly towards him. Jeff turned to run but to his horror found two coming right at him. He had only one place to go. Jeff quickly veered right and went down a small flight of stairs that led to the subway.

Looking back frantically, Jeff bought a ticket, and hurriedly went through the gate. He hid behind a pillar, hoping that his would be assassins didn't find him. Think fast, Jeff wiped out his cell phone and called his dad. When someone answered Jeff yelled frantically, "Dad! Dad! There are these men chasing me. I'm in the Gerion subway station. Help." After a few moments a voice spoke back, "Ok Jeff. Move to the nearest platform." He did. "Get on the next train that arrives. Until then, try and shield your as much as possible. Ok. Jeff. What happened?" Tears began to well up in Jeff's eyes. "Well there were these men at school that began following me and they blocked my path and they had guns and..oh the train is coming."  "OK. Wait for some of the passengers to leave and then get on. You want to be obscured by a crowd. OK?" "OK." As the train arrived, Jeff leaned against a pillar and faced the tracks as the train pulled into them. The doors opened and people began file out. Raising the phone to his mouth, Jeff muttered, "Dad, I lo-" Boom!


There were two different bombs. One was on the tracks farthest away from the platform, and the other was in the actual train. The track bomb blew first, send the train into the air and propelling it towards the platform. It collided with the people who exited the train, and smashed into pillars, on one of which Jeffery was leaning. The force of the train crushed the majority of his bones. The bomb in the train, which was now resting on the pillars, went off. It tore the shreds the already beaten train, sending shrapnel everywhere. The bomb, being right next to the pillars, collapsed them, causing the ceiling to fall. There were no survivors and all that remained of the boy was a lump of shattered bone and torn flesh.

Chaos ensued on the street above. People were running in every direction, yelling inaudible things, and steering clear of the gapping hole that once was the train station. A man looked over the wreckage, calm, and unaffected by the crowd of wild and fearful citizens. Raising a cell-phone to his head, he uttered the words, "It is done."

[Algerianbania]

OOC: Still looking for a supplier for the terrorists.

It had been a week of tears in the Hjuylio family. Seven days ago their son had been killed in a subway bomb. And today was the funeral. A long procession of black slowly moved along the pavement. The day was a sunny, clear day surprisingly. A comforting breeze rolled up to the city from the canal. The sun shined and birds chirped, but that did not help to hold back the tears which welled from Mrs. Hjuylio's eyes. Her eldest, and now only son and her husband tried to comfort her. It did not help that they hadn't been able to recover the body from the wreckage. There had simply been too much debris. And now as they entered the church, even the men of the family began to cry....

Afterwards at the reception, Mrs. Hjuylio seemed to have calmed down a little and was talking with President Hjuylio fiancee, Jessica. The President himself was chatting with his father when a man came up to him a spoke, "General, there is a package here for you." The general looked at the messenger with a look that was filled with contempt. "I am at my son's funeral. It must wait." The man, not thrown off by the generals coldness continued. "No sir. It really cannot. It comes directly from the Department of War." The General looked to his son. "You know anything about this." The President shook his head, just as confused as his father. Harrumphing, the General went off to see the package.

It was in a steel briefcase, in an out of the way room, with DoW in big read letters stamped on the front. The messenger left the room to give the General privacy. He opened the case, and gasped in shock. Inside was a large lump of red decaying flesh, with bits and pieces of smashed bone mixed in with it. There was a triggered tape-recorder in the case which began to play a tape in a soft, sinister voice.

"Hello General Hjuylio. I have always wanted to meet you. This is probably as close as we will ever get. It's a shame. I deeply admire you. If you had not guessed it yet, the contents of this case of the last remains of your son, Jeffery. I would have given to you soon, so that you could have had a proper funeral, but I was afraid that the shock of seeing her baby shredded and mutilated would have killed your wife. You may ask why I, or I should say we, did this. It was not because of some political protest against your policies. We are not some silly youthful vigilantes. We hate this country, and we want to see it be destroyed inside and out, by the notion of fear. What we did set the stepping stones for chaos. We chose your son because it was the perfect way to send a message. A semi-celebrate on his own, the son of a war hero, the brother of the president. What a perfect target. And now there is a short of subtle uneasiness in your people. We will build on that uneasiness until your people are screaming for cover, screaming for safety, for release. Then our task will be accomplished and we can fade into non-existence. It was nothing personal. Strictly business as some might say. Goodbye. Oh, by the way, we are called the Panda Poachers. Remember us?" *click*

[Little]

OOC: My nation needs money and does have the resources required to build and transport a nuclear weapons. Only problem is, they don't have the scientists necessary to build one or the facilities to build one. But they could sell your terrorists uranium and thorium(a radiation shielding material).