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Author Topic: New Things Bring Death  (Read 787 times)

Offline Algerianbania

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New Things Bring Death
« on: June 12, 2007, 03:38:05 AM »
Today was the grand opening of the new Canal Panda, the canal that would connect the capital city of Nikin with the sea, via Julukin Marityu. President Jordan and the Secretary of State Chaseeta Esach stood on a podium, facing the Juluking Marityu gate, which led into the canal. The president approached the microphone, carrying a speech in hand. He began to speak, but it didn't matter what he said. All that mattered to the man on the roof above him was that he was there, at the podium.

The assassin prepared his weapon. A single shot from a sniper wouldn't be sufficient enough. It needed to be a large spectacle, and a silent shot wouldn't cause as much terror as a rocket exploding on the president and collapsing the stage. These "panda-men" had come in and taken the Strip Lands. They had no right, and they had to pay the price. The "Strip People" had been reformed, but now under a different name: The Panda Poachers or P-Killers.

Hoisting the launcher onto his shoulder, the man crouched and leaned over the edge....where he was immediately tackled by an agent. The man was pushed violently to the side, clutching the trigger. The rocket shot out of the tube, and impacted on the end wing of the stage. 2 men were instantly killed, thrown through the air. That section of the stage shattered, sending huge wooden splinters in every direction. One became embedded into the presidents side, right above the hip. He collapsed to the ground and was swiftly carried away by his body guards, one shouting something into a walky-talky. People in the audience were shouting and screaming, pushing each other out of the way, all trying to be the first to get back to their cars, to get away from the mayhem.

Back on the roof, the agent who tackled the killer held him at gun-point, and barked orders into his com. The terrorist was chained, and brought to the nearest anti-terrorist agency outlet, which were almost nonexistent, for interrogation.

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Kilolio Jamiguyo rode in his limo, a '98 Rolls-Royce with the works. He yelled to his driver to drive faster. "Move! I am a honorary guest today at the grand opening of the Canal Panda. How will it look if I am late." The heavily distressed driver replied, "We are in heavy traffic sir. Downtown Julukin Marityu is always like this at this time of day. Half of these people are probably going to the same ceremony that you are." Kilolio, annoyed, yelled again. "The only difference is that they were no specially invited to this event, like I was. These low-lifes should get out of my way. I was the leader of the Strip People. I saved these schmucks from certain doom at the hands of the "panda-men". I worked out a deal that saved their necks."

The driver, equally annoyed, yelled angrily, "Yes, you saved us to further your own wealth. You gave in and cheated the rest of the people in the Strip Lands. And what exactly did you save us from? If I am not mistaken, the "panda-men" would have let us keep our land and our pride. You have made it worse. You have taken that pride way." This rant made Kilolio furious. His face began to redden and his hands shake. "How dare you talk to me like that. You are fired! I will find another driver." The driver chuckled. "Well than you can walk. Besides, I think I found a side road out of this traffic." The notion of walking shut Kilolio up.

The limo left Main Street, taking alleys and back way, until eventually coming up to an abandoned warehouse, where the limo stopped. Kilolio looked up from the newspaper. "Why are we stopping are we there." The driver turned around, holding a silenced pistol in his hands. "Think next time before dishonor one million people." A small thud sounded, and the back of Kilolio's head exploded in a fountain of blood. Blood dripped from the entry wound in his forehead.

The driver turned back to the steering wheel. From a bag in the passenger's seat, the man took out a long metal bar and a small package. He wedged the bar between the driver's seat and the gas. He then leaned out and placed the package underneath the car. The driver finally put the car into drive. As the vehicle lurched forward towards the warehouse, the man shot the windshield so that one would think that the shot came from outside, if there was anything left of the car. Jumping out, the driver rolled and was brought upright. He looked back at the limo which was picking up speed. The man extended a hand into his pocket and withdrew a cylinder like object, with a button on it. The car began to smash through the thin sheet metal door of the warehouse, and began to enter it. Once the limo was fully inside, the driver pressed the button with his thumb. The explosion disintegrated the thin aluminum sheets, blowing most of them to dust.

The driver turned away and pulled a cell phone out of his pockets. Dialing a quick number, the man brought the phone to his ear. "He's dead.....I blew it up.....the warehouse too.....they won't know he was shot.....yeah, I'm sure. They probably won't even find hi-....yeah.....yeah, I know.....ok.....ok. bye."
« Last Edit: June 13, 2007, 01:18:55 AM by Algerianbania »
Member of the Order of the Gryphons, Senator of Taijitu, Ambassador to The North Pacific, Deputy MoEA of The North Pacific, Member of the Regional Assembly of The North Pacific
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It's the chaos fetish theory.  As soon as you think of it, it automatically exists.
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If you have a proplem, blame Soly.

Re: New Things Bring Death
« Reply #1 on: June 13, 2007, 02:00:57 AM »
A car pulled into the compound. The sound of screeching tires made Jim look up. The driver had finally come back. It was about time. The warehouse was only a little bit away. He had begun to think that the driver had been taken. No, that was absurd, he told himself. The plan was flawless. If people found the car they would come up with some theory in which the driver would not be a suspect.

Now that the driver was here, they could continue with the plan. Jim beckoned the driver into a dimly lit room of the abandoned office building. There were other men there, gathered around a small table under a swinging lamp. They were talking with each other, but hushed when their leader entered the room. Jim didn't know his real name, but he did know that he was the main state of Algerianbania. This man had a sense of aw about him, yet he remained in the shadows, hiding the features of his face and body.

"The president is in intensive care. Though he is not killed, the shock of the event has frightened the people, and the president has some problems of his own. The splinter ripped through both of his intestines and punctured his stomach. He will have to go under heavy surgery for him to fully recover, and until that surgery is done, vice president Henry Elimingers, the son of Lord Elimingers, the war hero. This man is mostly craven and will be easily persuaded into fear and surrender. This is both good and bad. We want fear, but not surrender. We want these people to suffer, make them sit on the edge of their seats, shaking in their mother's arms. And so we shall continue with our plan. Write the letter." The leader left the way he came.

The men separated, to their cars, to work on different tasks. It was to Jim the duty of writing the letter. He began.

Quote
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 that. We are responsible for the attempted assassination of your president. We are also responsible for the death of Kilolio Jamiguyo, who you were probably not even aware was dead. If your animal-fucking mind serves you well, you will remember that he was the man that you bribed to hand over our lands to you people. He had to die to even out the price.

We shall do more. Cause more, fear, destruction, death, and another round of fear. Fear, fear, fear. That is our goal. And we will be extremely good doctors for dishing out new prescriptions of fear. We are your people. We have the same accents, the same face shapes, same hair color, same skin color. 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. We attempted to kill your president, and nearly succeeded. You will see more fear. 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 fear too. Fear, fear fear. We live on fear.

-The Panda Poachers
« Last Edit: June 20, 2007, 10:12:37 PM by The Panda Poachers »