Medal of Honor
September 18, 2029
Versailles, France
A warm shaft of light began to separate the thin layer of stratus clouds hanging over the French palace. Moments before, a sudden outburst from the heavens drenched the near distant palace with a harsh, cooling rain shower. Even so, patches of blue appeared sporadically, highlighting a couple of geese as the birds ventured south for the upcoming winter days. Steam rose from the heating asphalt underneath the boots of the Territory of France's (T.O.F) president, Francois de Lumiere. Two hundred feet from the palace doors, two of the president's butlers waited at the dusky, steel gate at the entrance of Versailles for their important guest; the president of the United States. Along with the butlers, three Americans patiently awaited the president's arrival: the highly respected four-star General Arkansas, the chief of staff, and General Arkansas' leading commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hammond. The five men stood at attention, concentrating on the black, horse drawn stagecoach coming their way. An interesting sight the president's ride was. Normally, before the MEC (Millennium Energy Crisis), the president of the United States would arrive at places by way of a slender, black, stretch limo. But now, as the curious French civilians observed, the U.S. president was taking a trip back into the mid nineteenth century where the president arrived in elegant stagecoaches. Four tawny Clydesdale horses led the way down the asphalt. From the front, sides, and rear, a brigade of the secret service kept in line on the backs of brown, Appaloosa horses. The vintage stagecoach pulled up in the traffic circle. Only four of the eight Secret Service (SS) moved off their steeds to help the president out of the coach. The five men waiting at the gate waited further still for the president to exit. It was four o'clock high. The president had always been punctual. This and the fact that the president managed to appease his opposing kingdom friends helped keep the United States out of the brewing conflict in the continent, Eurasia. The balding president with the famous silver beard carefully stepped out of the coach. The muddy water staining his new, creamy suede shoes didn't seem to bother the president. An aging man he was and the plane flight to the airport just outside of Versailles had worn him out. To add further strain, the prospect of losing support from the Western Alliance in helping to keep Amazonie from taking over Columbia and Mexico swung over him like an axe. General Arkansas greeted the president first, "Good afternoon Mr. President! I'm General Arkansas and this is my best commander, Colonel Hammond!" The president shook hands with the general, "It's nice to see you again Biff! I'm glad you brought your best Marine commander! Maybe we'll need him!" The president turned to Colonel Hammond, "Hello Colonel, it's nice to meet you!" "Likewise," Colonel Hammond replied. "It's an honor to finally meet the person I'm working for!" He extended his hand to shake with the president but General Arkansas hastily turned the president away from the colonel and ushered the president up the sidewalk to Francois de Lumiere. A smirk crossed the general's face as he turned his back on Hammond. Arkansas knew that Hammond was an intelligent being; too intelligent. Hammond glared after the general. He knew that the general had plans in mind for the upcoming years in the United States and the deals Arkansas made were mostly with the warlords of the Eastern Empire. Hammond already knew that Arkansas had been associating with the corrupt dictators of Britannia and the Republic of China. But as far as Hammond knew, these secret phone calls were keeping the selected nations from attacking the United States. General Arkansas wanted to make sure that was all Hammond knew. Anymore information Arkansas gave to his colonel meant the closer Hammond would come to uncovering the general's murderous plot and the closer would come to eliminating this possible leak in intelligence. The colonel ignored the coldness of his superior and followed the Chief of Staff towards Versailles. For now, Colonel Hammond was the best of General Arkansas' Marine leaders and he had to act accordingly; which meant Hammond and Arkansas would play the "Yes Sir" and "Of course Sir" role to both presidents to assure the presidents that the Marine Corps were being managed by intelligible, friendly leaders, and the President's plans for a strong military were going accord. By now, the president of the United States had reached the president of France. They extended hands to shake and drew themselves in for an embrace. The two presidents laughed merrily, easing the SS of their tension about any hostilities. "It's been awhile old friend," Francois de Lumiere said. France's president was the same age as the United States and had been long time friends. The only difference between them was the fact that Francois de Lumiere was not only president of the Territory of France but also was the supreme ruler of the entire Western Alliance. The two turned towards the palace entrance and proceeded to head into the magnificent palace of King Louis the fourteenth. Just before entering, Hammond slipped his left hand into his right, inner breast pocket and flipped on a knob for his mini recording system. Hammond knew something was up between the General and both presidents. A hidden recorder would help unlock any and all mysteries surrounding Hammond's suspicions of conspiracacy amongst the Republic of America, the Western Alliance, and the Republic of China.
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Two, frisky young Russian female snipers frolicked in the new snow. Winter was coming early this year and for the present, any current government issues with the Republic of China and Afpakistan would have to wait. A more important matter lay at hand: finding the best vantage point in which to accurately snipe their beloved sister with a snowball! Like the snow that calmly fell around them, dusk had also come quickly and now a dark rose color lit up the Russian sky. The townspeople of Novokazalinsk were content to staying indoors while their rambunctious children rampaged outside their dwellings, rejoicing in the first snowfall. Streetlights came on and the house lights glowed warmly. Babies slept, toddlers wailed; the snow continued its graceful decent. A young thirties man passed through the fairly lit street, searching for his two girl friends. He gazed above onto the rooftops. His eyes searched the dark shadowed places, knowing that Bianca and Demavev could be lurking anywhere throughout the Russian street and easily snipe him. Just then, he felt a disturbance in the quiet night. As quickly as he could, the young man leaped for cover behind a garbage can. Two snowballs exploded on the side of the metal garbage can. Immediately after, another warning shot nailed the lid of the can and ricocheting against the window of a bakery. Inside, the elderly woman glanced outside, saw the young man hiding behind the garbage can, and laughed at the man's occasional peeks out only to get nailed by a snowball. The lady laughed and continued her work. She knew it was only Bianca and Demavev up to their childish games again. This time it involved young Vassilii Zaitsev. Everybody in Novokazalinsk knew that Vasilii was the descendent of Russia's hero during world war two and was named after him. It was in the family blood to be a sharp shooter. Vasilii ducked away from the garbage can and threw his arms up in surrender. Demavev stepped away from the light pole a couple of feet away from him and Bianca crawled out from underneath an automobile. Both females held a snowball poised for throwing and had an extra one to spare. Their pockets bulged with extra ammo for quick reloading. They approached Vasilii cautiously. Unexpectedly, Bianca turned against Demavev and launched a snowball at her, striking her in the chest. Before Demavev could retaliate, Bianca lobbed another snowball at her, knocking the one Demavev already held to the ground. Vasilii calmly watched the girls and stood away from the crossfire. A grin of amusement hung on his face. Demavev gave a sudden shout and launched herself at her sister, knocking them both to the ground. For a moment, there was a brief wrestle on the once calm snow. Powder snow erupted around the playful, brawling girls along with screams and yell of delight and pleasure. The girls halted when they heard their beloved laughing loudly. Casting evil eyes at Vasilii, the two made a silent pact and hurled themselves at the surprised Vasilii, knocking him into the snow. Then it became a threesome brawl and the townspeople shook their heads with grins on their faces. It was nice to see some people playing instead of fighting. Down the road a bit, a brigade of Russian soldiers came marching down towards them. Amusement did not shine on any of the soldiers faces. War was raging with the Republic of China and Afpakistan and there was no time for foolish games. The three young Russian soldiers would soon be faced with the reality of what happens when nations do not see eye to eye or there's deception amongst them.
Paris, France
The dim clouds enshrouded the Jardin du Luxemburg. A dozen young men dressed in navy blue dress uniforms stood and chatted with each other, waiting for their promotion from the Paris Marine Academy to take place. "Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?" a soft-spoken young lady asked her boyfriend. Her boyfriend replied, "I'm looking for my godfather." The girl laughed. She wrapped her arms around him. Zeke smiled fondly at her. He starred at the girl's beautiful, dark blond hair and slightly palish complexion that brought out her sapphire eyes. Michelle Kohl was his girlfriend's name. Michelle was an American doctor working in the Rive Gauche's largest hospital as a second year resident in the emergency room. The two had known each other for a year now. They first met in a near tragic car crash that occurred when Zeke and two of his military buddies, Shaun and Keenan had gotten hit by an incoming, tanked up Parisian. Michelle worked through the night, working around the clock, trying to save Zeke's life. Since then, the two fell in love and could hardly be separated. "Oh Zeke, you know he'll be here. Your godfather wouldn't miss your graduation for anything! You just have to be patient!" Zeke gave her a soft peck on the cheek. He smiled, "Yes dear!" Michelle broke out into a fit of laughter along with Zeke. "Hey lovebirds!" a voice mocked jokingly. Michelle gazed up at her brother and smacked him with her program. "What do you want Keenan?" Michelle giggled. "I was just wondering if my uniform was straight enough!" Keenan told her with a smile. He straightened up and puffed out his chest. Even though he and his sister shared a lot in common, Keenan was more strongly built and he didn't share the fair complexion that his sister had. He had deep green eyes and tawny, straight hair. Keenan was a fine, proud young man with a goal of reaching his father's status in the military, a four star general! Shaun, Keenan's sidekick and best friend (who occasionally got the both of them in trouble at the local discotheques) spoke up, "That's the third time you've asked in five minutes!" Shaun had been Keenan's best friend since their parents first introduced them to each other back in two thousand two. They grew up together and both sought a military career; both hoping to make general by the time they reached twenty-five. Of course, this was impossible to do since most generals were in their early sixties on up. But they continued to work their way up the ranks. Presently, the dark haired, blue eyed, lofty, bully-looking but overall pleasant guy to be around, was busying himself in flirting with a gaggle of gorgeous looking females from a different company. Keenan rolled his eyes at Shaun and gazed expectantly at his sister. Shrugging, Michelle laughed, "You look great 'brother of mine'! Dad will be most proud!" "Speaking of which," Keenan wondered, "Where is Dear Old Dad?" "He's over there," Zeke pointed out, indicating that General Kohl was talking with a couple of soon to be Special Ops. Michelle leaped out of her chair and raced to her father exclaiming, "Hi daddy!" Keenan followed his sister, grabbing Shaun by the collar of his uniform and dragging him away from the giggling and blushing females. Zeke leaned back in his chair, smiled slightly, and glanced at his watch. He wondered, "Where could he be?"
Versailles, France
16h24
Colonel Hammond again glanced at his watch. It was nearing four thirty. He wondered how long the conversation (which animal made a better pet, a cat or a dog,) would continue. The topic dragged on and even the general seemed a tad bored. The colonel gazed into the design of the beautiful pearly white table in the conference room of Versailles. His thoughts traveled elsewhere. President de Lumiere asked, "Colonel Hammond, am I keeping you?" Colonel Hammond glanced at the president. He replied, "No Sir." "Then why do you keep looking at your watch?" the president inquired. "Well, I have to be in Paris by five o'clock," Hammond started but General Arkansas cut him off. "That's right," Arkansas stated, "you have a prior engagement up there." He glanced knowingly at the presidents. "I already gave him permission to go to Paris and I hope that won't be any inconvience for you Mr. President and Monsieur President?" "No, not at all," both presidents replied. "Well," General Arkansas said, rising, "I'll escort the colonel out to his ride and I'll come back in." The American president nodded. Francois de Lumiere stated, "But make sure you hurry back because I'm about to put on some tea!" General Arkansas forced a smile, "Wouldn't miss that even if Versailles was going to be bombed!" The president laughed and shooed the two away. Once away and out of the palace doors and near the gate entrance, General Arkansas pulled the colonel to a halt. The colonel slowly faced the general. General Arkansas had a strange, satisfied, cocky grin on his face. A feasible idea of what the general was thinking and plotting became evident in Hammond's eye. Colonel Hammond studied him briefly, and then he glanced at the palace and then back at General Arkansas. A frown of worry spread across Hammond's lips as he questioned, "You're not seriously going to go through with the Eastpire's demands are you?" "I do what's in the best interest of my assets," Arkansas simply stated. "And for now, that includes this." The general glanced at his fingers and fidgeted. Colonel Hammond begged, "Don't go through with this general! Why are you listening to the Eastpires?" "Because Colonel," Arkansas said, growing irritated, "They are the future. The United States and the Western Alliance will be no more." All at once, the magnificent palace of Versailles lit up in a orange and red fireball. Windows shattered, spraying the nearby proximity with shards of glass. Plasterboard, cement, bricks, and wood traveled through the air out in all directions. Nearby car alarms went off. A plume of billowing dark smoke rose into the air, symbolizing a major catastrophe. A navy blue Mercedes Benz pulled up to the two officers. Gaping at the leveled palace, Colonel Hammond could only stare in horror while a bulky man dressed in a navy blue dress uniform approached him from behind. Turning sour, Arkansas took out a small vile from his chest pocket along with a white handkerchief. He poured the contents of the vile onto the handkerchief, unannounced to the colonel, making sure none of the contents leaked on to his hand, and then swiftly brought the white cloth over Hammond's face. The uniformed person grabbed the struggling colonel while Arkansas held the cloth firmly over Hammond's mouth and nose. Shortly, the colonel fell into submission, slumping limply against the muscular man. Tucking the cloth back into his breast pocket, General Arkansas told the man, "Take him to the Paris Marine Academy. See to it that he's not late. Otherwise someone might become suspicious." Dragging the limp colonel to the car, the man questioned, "How come you didn't just kill him?" "Colonel Hammond is a dedicated man to the Marines," General Arkansas stated. "He's an exceptional commander and to kill him would be like destroying Notre Dame." "Ah, I get it now," the man replied. He propped the colonel up in the back seat. Glancing worriedly at the colonel, the individual asked, "How do I wake him up?" "I don't know," the general hissed, waving his hand. "Slap him around a little bit or dump some water on his face." "Uh, okay," he replied. He then got into the driver's seat and headed towards Paris. General Arkansas picked his cell phone out of his inner pocket and contacted General Kohl. Faking astonishment and horror, the general yelled, "General Kohl, this is General Arkansas. Versailles has just been blown up! Both presidents are dead! I barely escaped alive."
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Demavev, the dark, straight haired, kind faced sister of Bianca, her matching twin approached Vasilii solemnly. The young, dark blonde, smoothed face Russian was cleaning his sniper rifle's barrel. When he heard Demavev approached, he glanced up with a pleased smile. "Hello Dem!" Vasilii greeted warmly. "Hello," Dem greeted. She glanced about, searching for Bianca. Curiously, Dem asked, "Where's Bianca?" "I think she's trying to bribe Lukyan and Fadeyka out of their cd player." "That old thing?" Dem complained. "That's an ancient method of listening to music! We've got mini disk players at home she could of brought! Why on earth would she want a cd player?" Vasilii shrugged, continuing to clean his gun. Just then, they heard Bianca's resounding voice echoing, "No I won't leave until you let me hear that song!" The equally booming voice of Fadeyka hollered, "NO! You've already listened to it five times in a row today! Now I've got that damn' Rum-Tum Tugger' song stuck in my head! Thank you very much!" "Don't mention it." A sigh of exasperation followed Bianca's remark. Lukyan, a late twenties, gracious man calmly said, "I don't mind if you want to listen to your CATS cd, Bianca." "Aw, thank you!" Bianca thanked. Turning a nasty glare upon Fadeyka, Bianca snapped, "At least your 'partner in crime' here knows how to treat a lady." Fadeyka scoffed, "Next time I see one, I'll treat her as such!" Bianca roared with rage and was set to tackle the opionated male when Lukyan intervened. Stepping in between the two, Lukyan stated, "Remember Bianca, you're on tender hooks as it is with Commandant Vujovic! He said that if he caught you in another brawl, he was going to lock you in the pen!" Looking over the young male's shoulder, Bianca hissed at Fadeyka, showing her fangs at him before turning her attention back on Lukyan. Bianca smiled, "Thanks for your concern Lukyan. You're a sweetheart!" With that, Bianca kissed the surprised lieutenant on the cheek before strutting out of the tent with her nose held high to mock the smoldering Fadeyka. After she had left, Lukyan sighed contentedly. Turning to his partner, Lukyan announced gleefully, "She kissed me! Bianca actually kissed me!" Scowling, Fadeyka demanded, "What do you want? A gold medal? So what she kissed you! She's a flirt!" "No," Lukyan firmly stated. "I think she likes me!" Fadeyka laughed. He pointed out, "Do you really think she likes you?" "Why wouldn't she?" Fadeyka continued to laugh.
Paris, Territory of France The navy Mercedes pulled into the Marine academy's parking lot. The husky male driver swiveled in his seat to face the knocked out colonel. The driver picked up a plastic cup with water in it. With a half-hearted effort, the man sent the water flying onto the colonel's face, bringing Hammond out of his unconscious state. Confusedly, Hammond glanced about him, inquiring, "What happened? Where am I?" "You're at the Paris Marine Academy," the driver told him. "Uh, you fell asleep on the way here." "I did?" "Um, yes," the driver replied, unsure of what to say next. "You better hurry so you're not late." Nodding, Colonel Hammond exited the car. After closing the door, the Mercedes took off abruptly back towards its starting point. Hammond gazed suspiciously after the car. A sharp pain inched from Hammond's head alerted the colonel about a headache from some unknown cause. Wiping the water off of his face with his sleeve (curiously questioning its presence), Hammond collected his thoughts and headed towards the Jardin du Luxembourg.
Rising, Zeke spotted Colonel Hammond entering the garden. Dashing over to him, Zeke greeted, "Hey Colonel." "Sergeant Hansen," Hammond smiled. Laughing, Zeke said, "Not yet Charlie. I'm still a corporal." "Just practicing calling my godson a sergeant," Hammond chided. "Your father would be proud." Zeke glanced into the distance. A frown flickered across his youthful face. Zeke had thought about the chances of his father and mother coming to the ceremony but he had a suspicion that neither parent would watch him advance in his military career. Sadly, only two people in his life besides his friends cared about his promotion and life in general; Colonel Hammond, his godfather, and his girlfriend, Michelle. Other than that, Zeke's family ignored him. "Hey baby," Michelle greeted softly, wrapping her arms around Zeke's chest and nuzzling his right shoulder. "Hey girl," Zeke returned Michelle's mild tone of voice with a smile. Michelle regarded the colonel and smiled, "Hello Charlie!" "Hello Michelle," Hammond returned friendly. "Taking care of my boy? Making sure he doesn't get into trouble?" Giggling, Michelle laughed, "Yes; even though he does seem to share your natural talent for staying out of trouble." "That's good to hear." Michelle gazed at the colonel and noticed that something seemed amiss. She asked, "Are you okay Charlie? You seem kind of anxious." Running a nervous hand through his hair, Hammond replied uneasily, "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I feel like I've been drugged or something." Concernedly, Zeke peered at his godfather and asked, "You were with General Arkansas and both presidents today weren't you?" "Yeah," Hammond replied. "I recorded everything Arkansas told me and the presidents." Michelle gathered, "To see if General Arkansas would confess his dealings with the Eastpires and the Amazonie?" "Yes," Hammond told her. Just then, General Kohl stood up to the stand and announced, "Would everybody kindly take his or her seats. It's time for the promotion to start." The military students, parents, and staff took their seats. General Kohl started, "It's my honor to promote these twelve, fine young men to the rank of sergeant . . ."
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Major Parashie Vujovic, a dusky haired infantry female, fifty years young, approached Dem. Fire shown deeply in Dem's eyes as she glared at the soldier and watched the female's steady gate towards her. The major didn't care how much Dem hated her. Dem and Parashie never connected during the Russian boot camp many years ago. The cold-hearted drill instructor constantly confused Dem with her twin, Bianca, and blamed the confusion on the two girl's parents. Parashie would never be forgiven, Dem knew, for insulting her parents and bringing shame to the Kottulinsky name. Forcing herself into a salute, Dem saluted the major. Not returning the salute, Parashie glared at Dem. For a brief second, the two held each other's threatening expression. Finally, Dem demanded, "What do you want Major?" "Where's your twin and your boyfriend?" Parashie demanded. "Bianca is dancing with Vasilii out in the Mess Hall," Dem answered. Her eyes shot invisible fire at the outspoken female. "Vasilii is not my boyfriend. Bianca and I are just very good friends with him." "Was I asking for an explanation?" Parashie hissed. Dem glared at her. "I didn't think so," Parashie snapped. "Well, get your fanny into gear, the Republic of China has just declared war on Russia and the South Pacific Alliance." "Seriously?" Dem questioned, shocked by the news. Scoffing, Parashie nearly shouted, "Do you think I'm lying?" "No ma'am." "I got the news straight from Commandant Vujovic himself!" Parashie informed Dem angrily. "We're to report to Alma Ata immediately. The train leaves for Tashkent in ten minutes." Dem took in a deep breath. "I suggest you get your sister and your boyfriend packing," the major told her before marching off. Sighing deeply, Dem shot the major a detested look while muttering, "Yes Major Parashie. Whatever you want, I will do!" Dem then raced off to find Bianca and Vasilii.
Near the Caribbean Sea in the jungle fifty
miles north from Santa Marta, Columbia
The outgoing, courageous, Major Kraig Tredway stood a couple feet away from the sandy beach, gazing out to the distant island of Jamaica. Sweat ran down the major's smooth, tough face, down his neck, and into his light jungle camouflage uniform. His serious blue eyes fixed upon the glistening cerulean body of water, searching for any clues to the ongoing mystery of the Amazonie's advancement through Columbia. Lieutenant Joseph Levake stepped up beside the concentrating major. He too began to stare into the vastness of the Caribbean with his deep blue eyes. Like the major, the lieutenant also wore a jungle camouflage uniform and sweated profusely. The jungle air scorched at an extremely humid temperature of eighty-nine degrees. The mid-thirties lieutenant addressed the older major, "Major Sir, we've found a lightly guarded bunker." "Amazans?" the major questioned, glancing at the lieutenant. "Yes Sir," the lieutenant replied. Continuing, the lieutenant informed him, "I think you should check it out Sir." Nodding, Major Tredway followed the lieutenant into the dense jungle. Along the way, the major asked, "Lieutenant," "Yes Sir?" "What do you think the chances are of the Amazans bombing the Caribbean islands?" Major Tredway questioned. "Maybe a slight chance, Sir," the lieutenant responded. "Why do you say that?" Tredway inquired. "Well Sir, lets just say that the natives are a little restless!" The two officers entered the dark, underground bunker. Ducking under the low ceiling, Tredway regarded the captured Amazans with disdain. He had come to distrusting the cunning Amazans that constantly threatened the Republic of America, Mexico, Columbia, and the Caribbean islands peaceful way of life. Amazonie had grown to become the second most powerful nation in the Western Hemisphere after joining forces with the Andeiana nation. Lieutenant Levake turned on the overhead bulb, illuminating the room. Pointing towards the center of the floor, Levake stated to Tredway, "I don't know. Looks like these guys were planning something." "Oh my God," Major Tredway gasped, peering at five nuclear warheads laying in a neat row on the floor. Turning to the captives, Major Tredway demanded, "Where were you planning on sending these boys?" Looking at each other, the captives furtively replied, "Non comprende!" Disgusted, Major Tredway pivoted to Levake and snapped, "Call General Watson and let him know that the Amazans are working their way north and get me a goddamn person who speaks Portuguese!" "Yes Sir!" Lieutenant Levake agreed and set off to his immediate task. Major Tredway stared at the nukes with a combined feeling of terror and fascination. He nervously ran his hand through his hair and glanced again at the captives. The war was coming.
September 18, 2029
Versailles, France
A warm shaft of light began to separate the thin layer of stratus clouds hanging over the French palace. Moments before, a sudden outburst from the heavens drenched the near distant palace with a harsh, cooling rain shower. Even so, patches of blue appeared sporadically, highlighting a couple of geese as the birds ventured south for the upcoming winter days. Steam rose from the heating asphalt underneath the boots of the Territory of France's (T.O.F) president, Francois de Lumiere. Two hundred feet from the palace doors, two of the president's butlers waited at the dusky, steel gate at the entrance of Versailles for their important guest; the president of the United States. Along with the butlers, three Americans patiently awaited the president's arrival: the highly respected four-star General Arkansas, the chief of staff, and General Arkansas' leading commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hammond. The five men stood at attention, concentrating on the black, horse drawn stagecoach coming their way. An interesting sight the president's ride was. Normally, before the MEC (Millennium Energy Crisis), the president of the United States would arrive at places by way of a slender, black, stretch limo. But now, as the curious French civilians observed, the U.S. president was taking a trip back into the mid nineteenth century where the president arrived in elegant stagecoaches. Four tawny Clydesdale horses led the way down the asphalt. From the front, sides, and rear, a brigade of the secret service kept in line on the backs of brown, Appaloosa horses. The vintage stagecoach pulled up in the traffic circle. Only four of the eight Secret Service (SS) moved off their steeds to help the president out of the coach. The five men waiting at the gate waited further still for the president to exit. It was four o'clock high. The president had always been punctual. This and the fact that the president managed to appease his opposing kingdom friends helped keep the United States out of the brewing conflict in the continent, Eurasia. The balding president with the famous silver beard carefully stepped out of the coach. The muddy water staining his new, creamy suede shoes didn't seem to bother the president. An aging man he was and the plane flight to the airport just outside of Versailles had worn him out. To add further strain, the prospect of losing support from the Western Alliance in helping to keep Amazonie from taking over Columbia and Mexico swung over him like an axe. General Arkansas greeted the president first, "Good afternoon Mr. President! I'm General Arkansas and this is my best commander, Colonel Hammond!" The president shook hands with the general, "It's nice to see you again Biff! I'm glad you brought your best Marine commander! Maybe we'll need him!" The president turned to Colonel Hammond, "Hello Colonel, it's nice to meet you!" "Likewise," Colonel Hammond replied. "It's an honor to finally meet the person I'm working for!" He extended his hand to shake with the president but General Arkansas hastily turned the president away from the colonel and ushered the president up the sidewalk to Francois de Lumiere. A smirk crossed the general's face as he turned his back on Hammond. Arkansas knew that Hammond was an intelligent being; too intelligent. Hammond glared after the general. He knew that the general had plans in mind for the upcoming years in the United States and the deals Arkansas made were mostly with the warlords of the Eastern Empire. Hammond already knew that Arkansas had been associating with the corrupt dictators of Britannia and the Republic of China. But as far as Hammond knew, these secret phone calls were keeping the selected nations from attacking the United States. General Arkansas wanted to make sure that was all Hammond knew. Anymore information Arkansas gave to his colonel meant the closer Hammond would come to uncovering the general's murderous plot and the closer would come to eliminating this possible leak in intelligence. The colonel ignored the coldness of his superior and followed the Chief of Staff towards Versailles. For now, Colonel Hammond was the best of General Arkansas' Marine leaders and he had to act accordingly; which meant Hammond and Arkansas would play the "Yes Sir" and "Of course Sir" role to both presidents to assure the presidents that the Marine Corps were being managed by intelligible, friendly leaders, and the President's plans for a strong military were going accord. By now, the president of the United States had reached the president of France. They extended hands to shake and drew themselves in for an embrace. The two presidents laughed merrily, easing the SS of their tension about any hostilities. "It's been awhile old friend," Francois de Lumiere said. France's president was the same age as the United States and had been long time friends. The only difference between them was the fact that Francois de Lumiere was not only president of the Territory of France but also was the supreme ruler of the entire Western Alliance. The two turned towards the palace entrance and proceeded to head into the magnificent palace of King Louis the fourteenth. Just before entering, Hammond slipped his left hand into his right, inner breast pocket and flipped on a knob for his mini recording system. Hammond knew something was up between the General and both presidents. A hidden recorder would help unlock any and all mysteries surrounding Hammond's suspicions of conspiracacy amongst the Republic of America, the Western Alliance, and the Republic of China.
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Two, frisky young Russian female snipers frolicked in the new snow. Winter was coming early this year and for the present, any current government issues with the Republic of China and Afpakistan would have to wait. A more important matter lay at hand: finding the best vantage point in which to accurately snipe their beloved sister with a snowball! Like the snow that calmly fell around them, dusk had also come quickly and now a dark rose color lit up the Russian sky. The townspeople of Novokazalinsk were content to staying indoors while their rambunctious children rampaged outside their dwellings, rejoicing in the first snowfall. Streetlights came on and the house lights glowed warmly. Babies slept, toddlers wailed; the snow continued its graceful decent. A young thirties man passed through the fairly lit street, searching for his two girl friends. He gazed above onto the rooftops. His eyes searched the dark shadowed places, knowing that Bianca and Demavev could be lurking anywhere throughout the Russian street and easily snipe him. Just then, he felt a disturbance in the quiet night. As quickly as he could, the young man leaped for cover behind a garbage can. Two snowballs exploded on the side of the metal garbage can. Immediately after, another warning shot nailed the lid of the can and ricocheting against the window of a bakery. Inside, the elderly woman glanced outside, saw the young man hiding behind the garbage can, and laughed at the man's occasional peeks out only to get nailed by a snowball. The lady laughed and continued her work. She knew it was only Bianca and Demavev up to their childish games again. This time it involved young Vassilii Zaitsev. Everybody in Novokazalinsk knew that Vasilii was the descendent of Russia's hero during world war two and was named after him. It was in the family blood to be a sharp shooter. Vasilii ducked away from the garbage can and threw his arms up in surrender. Demavev stepped away from the light pole a couple of feet away from him and Bianca crawled out from underneath an automobile. Both females held a snowball poised for throwing and had an extra one to spare. Their pockets bulged with extra ammo for quick reloading. They approached Vasilii cautiously. Unexpectedly, Bianca turned against Demavev and launched a snowball at her, striking her in the chest. Before Demavev could retaliate, Bianca lobbed another snowball at her, knocking the one Demavev already held to the ground. Vasilii calmly watched the girls and stood away from the crossfire. A grin of amusement hung on his face. Demavev gave a sudden shout and launched herself at her sister, knocking them both to the ground. For a moment, there was a brief wrestle on the once calm snow. Powder snow erupted around the playful, brawling girls along with screams and yell of delight and pleasure. The girls halted when they heard their beloved laughing loudly. Casting evil eyes at Vasilii, the two made a silent pact and hurled themselves at the surprised Vasilii, knocking him into the snow. Then it became a threesome brawl and the townspeople shook their heads with grins on their faces. It was nice to see some people playing instead of fighting. Down the road a bit, a brigade of Russian soldiers came marching down towards them. Amusement did not shine on any of the soldiers faces. War was raging with the Republic of China and Afpakistan and there was no time for foolish games. The three young Russian soldiers would soon be faced with the reality of what happens when nations do not see eye to eye or there's deception amongst them.
Paris, France
The dim clouds enshrouded the Jardin du Luxemburg. A dozen young men dressed in navy blue dress uniforms stood and chatted with each other, waiting for their promotion from the Paris Marine Academy to take place. "Why do you keep looking over your shoulder?" a soft-spoken young lady asked her boyfriend. Her boyfriend replied, "I'm looking for my godfather." The girl laughed. She wrapped her arms around him. Zeke smiled fondly at her. He starred at the girl's beautiful, dark blond hair and slightly palish complexion that brought out her sapphire eyes. Michelle Kohl was his girlfriend's name. Michelle was an American doctor working in the Rive Gauche's largest hospital as a second year resident in the emergency room. The two had known each other for a year now. They first met in a near tragic car crash that occurred when Zeke and two of his military buddies, Shaun and Keenan had gotten hit by an incoming, tanked up Parisian. Michelle worked through the night, working around the clock, trying to save Zeke's life. Since then, the two fell in love and could hardly be separated. "Oh Zeke, you know he'll be here. Your godfather wouldn't miss your graduation for anything! You just have to be patient!" Zeke gave her a soft peck on the cheek. He smiled, "Yes dear!" Michelle broke out into a fit of laughter along with Zeke. "Hey lovebirds!" a voice mocked jokingly. Michelle gazed up at her brother and smacked him with her program. "What do you want Keenan?" Michelle giggled. "I was just wondering if my uniform was straight enough!" Keenan told her with a smile. He straightened up and puffed out his chest. Even though he and his sister shared a lot in common, Keenan was more strongly built and he didn't share the fair complexion that his sister had. He had deep green eyes and tawny, straight hair. Keenan was a fine, proud young man with a goal of reaching his father's status in the military, a four star general! Shaun, Keenan's sidekick and best friend (who occasionally got the both of them in trouble at the local discotheques) spoke up, "That's the third time you've asked in five minutes!" Shaun had been Keenan's best friend since their parents first introduced them to each other back in two thousand two. They grew up together and both sought a military career; both hoping to make general by the time they reached twenty-five. Of course, this was impossible to do since most generals were in their early sixties on up. But they continued to work their way up the ranks. Presently, the dark haired, blue eyed, lofty, bully-looking but overall pleasant guy to be around, was busying himself in flirting with a gaggle of gorgeous looking females from a different company. Keenan rolled his eyes at Shaun and gazed expectantly at his sister. Shrugging, Michelle laughed, "You look great 'brother of mine'! Dad will be most proud!" "Speaking of which," Keenan wondered, "Where is Dear Old Dad?" "He's over there," Zeke pointed out, indicating that General Kohl was talking with a couple of soon to be Special Ops. Michelle leaped out of her chair and raced to her father exclaiming, "Hi daddy!" Keenan followed his sister, grabbing Shaun by the collar of his uniform and dragging him away from the giggling and blushing females. Zeke leaned back in his chair, smiled slightly, and glanced at his watch. He wondered, "Where could he be?"
Versailles, France
16h24
Colonel Hammond again glanced at his watch. It was nearing four thirty. He wondered how long the conversation (which animal made a better pet, a cat or a dog,) would continue. The topic dragged on and even the general seemed a tad bored. The colonel gazed into the design of the beautiful pearly white table in the conference room of Versailles. His thoughts traveled elsewhere. President de Lumiere asked, "Colonel Hammond, am I keeping you?" Colonel Hammond glanced at the president. He replied, "No Sir." "Then why do you keep looking at your watch?" the president inquired. "Well, I have to be in Paris by five o'clock," Hammond started but General Arkansas cut him off. "That's right," Arkansas stated, "you have a prior engagement up there." He glanced knowingly at the presidents. "I already gave him permission to go to Paris and I hope that won't be any inconvience for you Mr. President and Monsieur President?" "No, not at all," both presidents replied. "Well," General Arkansas said, rising, "I'll escort the colonel out to his ride and I'll come back in." The American president nodded. Francois de Lumiere stated, "But make sure you hurry back because I'm about to put on some tea!" General Arkansas forced a smile, "Wouldn't miss that even if Versailles was going to be bombed!" The president laughed and shooed the two away. Once away and out of the palace doors and near the gate entrance, General Arkansas pulled the colonel to a halt. The colonel slowly faced the general. General Arkansas had a strange, satisfied, cocky grin on his face. A feasible idea of what the general was thinking and plotting became evident in Hammond's eye. Colonel Hammond studied him briefly, and then he glanced at the palace and then back at General Arkansas. A frown of worry spread across Hammond's lips as he questioned, "You're not seriously going to go through with the Eastpire's demands are you?" "I do what's in the best interest of my assets," Arkansas simply stated. "And for now, that includes this." The general glanced at his fingers and fidgeted. Colonel Hammond begged, "Don't go through with this general! Why are you listening to the Eastpires?" "Because Colonel," Arkansas said, growing irritated, "They are the future. The United States and the Western Alliance will be no more." All at once, the magnificent palace of Versailles lit up in a orange and red fireball. Windows shattered, spraying the nearby proximity with shards of glass. Plasterboard, cement, bricks, and wood traveled through the air out in all directions. Nearby car alarms went off. A plume of billowing dark smoke rose into the air, symbolizing a major catastrophe. A navy blue Mercedes Benz pulled up to the two officers. Gaping at the leveled palace, Colonel Hammond could only stare in horror while a bulky man dressed in a navy blue dress uniform approached him from behind. Turning sour, Arkansas took out a small vile from his chest pocket along with a white handkerchief. He poured the contents of the vile onto the handkerchief, unannounced to the colonel, making sure none of the contents leaked on to his hand, and then swiftly brought the white cloth over Hammond's face. The uniformed person grabbed the struggling colonel while Arkansas held the cloth firmly over Hammond's mouth and nose. Shortly, the colonel fell into submission, slumping limply against the muscular man. Tucking the cloth back into his breast pocket, General Arkansas told the man, "Take him to the Paris Marine Academy. See to it that he's not late. Otherwise someone might become suspicious." Dragging the limp colonel to the car, the man questioned, "How come you didn't just kill him?" "Colonel Hammond is a dedicated man to the Marines," General Arkansas stated. "He's an exceptional commander and to kill him would be like destroying Notre Dame." "Ah, I get it now," the man replied. He propped the colonel up in the back seat. Glancing worriedly at the colonel, the individual asked, "How do I wake him up?" "I don't know," the general hissed, waving his hand. "Slap him around a little bit or dump some water on his face." "Uh, okay," he replied. He then got into the driver's seat and headed towards Paris. General Arkansas picked his cell phone out of his inner pocket and contacted General Kohl. Faking astonishment and horror, the general yelled, "General Kohl, this is General Arkansas. Versailles has just been blown up! Both presidents are dead! I barely escaped alive."
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Demavev, the dark, straight haired, kind faced sister of Bianca, her matching twin approached Vasilii solemnly. The young, dark blonde, smoothed face Russian was cleaning his sniper rifle's barrel. When he heard Demavev approached, he glanced up with a pleased smile. "Hello Dem!" Vasilii greeted warmly. "Hello," Dem greeted. She glanced about, searching for Bianca. Curiously, Dem asked, "Where's Bianca?" "I think she's trying to bribe Lukyan and Fadeyka out of their cd player." "That old thing?" Dem complained. "That's an ancient method of listening to music! We've got mini disk players at home she could of brought! Why on earth would she want a cd player?" Vasilii shrugged, continuing to clean his gun. Just then, they heard Bianca's resounding voice echoing, "No I won't leave until you let me hear that song!" The equally booming voice of Fadeyka hollered, "NO! You've already listened to it five times in a row today! Now I've got that damn' Rum-Tum Tugger' song stuck in my head! Thank you very much!" "Don't mention it." A sigh of exasperation followed Bianca's remark. Lukyan, a late twenties, gracious man calmly said, "I don't mind if you want to listen to your CATS cd, Bianca." "Aw, thank you!" Bianca thanked. Turning a nasty glare upon Fadeyka, Bianca snapped, "At least your 'partner in crime' here knows how to treat a lady." Fadeyka scoffed, "Next time I see one, I'll treat her as such!" Bianca roared with rage and was set to tackle the opionated male when Lukyan intervened. Stepping in between the two, Lukyan stated, "Remember Bianca, you're on tender hooks as it is with Commandant Vujovic! He said that if he caught you in another brawl, he was going to lock you in the pen!" Looking over the young male's shoulder, Bianca hissed at Fadeyka, showing her fangs at him before turning her attention back on Lukyan. Bianca smiled, "Thanks for your concern Lukyan. You're a sweetheart!" With that, Bianca kissed the surprised lieutenant on the cheek before strutting out of the tent with her nose held high to mock the smoldering Fadeyka. After she had left, Lukyan sighed contentedly. Turning to his partner, Lukyan announced gleefully, "She kissed me! Bianca actually kissed me!" Scowling, Fadeyka demanded, "What do you want? A gold medal? So what she kissed you! She's a flirt!" "No," Lukyan firmly stated. "I think she likes me!" Fadeyka laughed. He pointed out, "Do you really think she likes you?" "Why wouldn't she?" Fadeyka continued to laugh.
Paris, Territory of France The navy Mercedes pulled into the Marine academy's parking lot. The husky male driver swiveled in his seat to face the knocked out colonel. The driver picked up a plastic cup with water in it. With a half-hearted effort, the man sent the water flying onto the colonel's face, bringing Hammond out of his unconscious state. Confusedly, Hammond glanced about him, inquiring, "What happened? Where am I?" "You're at the Paris Marine Academy," the driver told him. "Uh, you fell asleep on the way here." "I did?" "Um, yes," the driver replied, unsure of what to say next. "You better hurry so you're not late." Nodding, Colonel Hammond exited the car. After closing the door, the Mercedes took off abruptly back towards its starting point. Hammond gazed suspiciously after the car. A sharp pain inched from Hammond's head alerted the colonel about a headache from some unknown cause. Wiping the water off of his face with his sleeve (curiously questioning its presence), Hammond collected his thoughts and headed towards the Jardin du Luxembourg.
Rising, Zeke spotted Colonel Hammond entering the garden. Dashing over to him, Zeke greeted, "Hey Colonel." "Sergeant Hansen," Hammond smiled. Laughing, Zeke said, "Not yet Charlie. I'm still a corporal." "Just practicing calling my godson a sergeant," Hammond chided. "Your father would be proud." Zeke glanced into the distance. A frown flickered across his youthful face. Zeke had thought about the chances of his father and mother coming to the ceremony but he had a suspicion that neither parent would watch him advance in his military career. Sadly, only two people in his life besides his friends cared about his promotion and life in general; Colonel Hammond, his godfather, and his girlfriend, Michelle. Other than that, Zeke's family ignored him. "Hey baby," Michelle greeted softly, wrapping her arms around Zeke's chest and nuzzling his right shoulder. "Hey girl," Zeke returned Michelle's mild tone of voice with a smile. Michelle regarded the colonel and smiled, "Hello Charlie!" "Hello Michelle," Hammond returned friendly. "Taking care of my boy? Making sure he doesn't get into trouble?" Giggling, Michelle laughed, "Yes; even though he does seem to share your natural talent for staying out of trouble." "That's good to hear." Michelle gazed at the colonel and noticed that something seemed amiss. She asked, "Are you okay Charlie? You seem kind of anxious." Running a nervous hand through his hair, Hammond replied uneasily, "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I feel like I've been drugged or something." Concernedly, Zeke peered at his godfather and asked, "You were with General Arkansas and both presidents today weren't you?" "Yeah," Hammond replied. "I recorded everything Arkansas told me and the presidents." Michelle gathered, "To see if General Arkansas would confess his dealings with the Eastpires and the Amazonie?" "Yes," Hammond told her. Just then, General Kohl stood up to the stand and announced, "Would everybody kindly take his or her seats. It's time for the promotion to start." The military students, parents, and staff took their seats. General Kohl started, "It's my honor to promote these twelve, fine young men to the rank of sergeant . . ."
Novokazalinsk, Russia
Major Parashie Vujovic, a dusky haired infantry female, fifty years young, approached Dem. Fire shown deeply in Dem's eyes as she glared at the soldier and watched the female's steady gate towards her. The major didn't care how much Dem hated her. Dem and Parashie never connected during the Russian boot camp many years ago. The cold-hearted drill instructor constantly confused Dem with her twin, Bianca, and blamed the confusion on the two girl's parents. Parashie would never be forgiven, Dem knew, for insulting her parents and bringing shame to the Kottulinsky name. Forcing herself into a salute, Dem saluted the major. Not returning the salute, Parashie glared at Dem. For a brief second, the two held each other's threatening expression. Finally, Dem demanded, "What do you want Major?" "Where's your twin and your boyfriend?" Parashie demanded. "Bianca is dancing with Vasilii out in the Mess Hall," Dem answered. Her eyes shot invisible fire at the outspoken female. "Vasilii is not my boyfriend. Bianca and I are just very good friends with him." "Was I asking for an explanation?" Parashie hissed. Dem glared at her. "I didn't think so," Parashie snapped. "Well, get your fanny into gear, the Republic of China has just declared war on Russia and the South Pacific Alliance." "Seriously?" Dem questioned, shocked by the news. Scoffing, Parashie nearly shouted, "Do you think I'm lying?" "No ma'am." "I got the news straight from Commandant Vujovic himself!" Parashie informed Dem angrily. "We're to report to Alma Ata immediately. The train leaves for Tashkent in ten minutes." Dem took in a deep breath. "I suggest you get your sister and your boyfriend packing," the major told her before marching off. Sighing deeply, Dem shot the major a detested look while muttering, "Yes Major Parashie. Whatever you want, I will do!" Dem then raced off to find Bianca and Vasilii.
Near the Caribbean Sea in the jungle fifty
miles north from Santa Marta, Columbia
The outgoing, courageous, Major Kraig Tredway stood a couple feet away from the sandy beach, gazing out to the distant island of Jamaica. Sweat ran down the major's smooth, tough face, down his neck, and into his light jungle camouflage uniform. His serious blue eyes fixed upon the glistening cerulean body of water, searching for any clues to the ongoing mystery of the Amazonie's advancement through Columbia. Lieutenant Joseph Levake stepped up beside the concentrating major. He too began to stare into the vastness of the Caribbean with his deep blue eyes. Like the major, the lieutenant also wore a jungle camouflage uniform and sweated profusely. The jungle air scorched at an extremely humid temperature of eighty-nine degrees. The mid-thirties lieutenant addressed the older major, "Major Sir, we've found a lightly guarded bunker." "Amazans?" the major questioned, glancing at the lieutenant. "Yes Sir," the lieutenant replied. Continuing, the lieutenant informed him, "I think you should check it out Sir." Nodding, Major Tredway followed the lieutenant into the dense jungle. Along the way, the major asked, "Lieutenant," "Yes Sir?" "What do you think the chances are of the Amazans bombing the Caribbean islands?" Major Tredway questioned. "Maybe a slight chance, Sir," the lieutenant responded. "Why do you say that?" Tredway inquired. "Well Sir, lets just say that the natives are a little restless!" The two officers entered the dark, underground bunker. Ducking under the low ceiling, Tredway regarded the captured Amazans with disdain. He had come to distrusting the cunning Amazans that constantly threatened the Republic of America, Mexico, Columbia, and the Caribbean islands peaceful way of life. Amazonie had grown to become the second most powerful nation in the Western Hemisphere after joining forces with the Andeiana nation. Lieutenant Levake turned on the overhead bulb, illuminating the room. Pointing towards the center of the floor, Levake stated to Tredway, "I don't know. Looks like these guys were planning something." "Oh my God," Major Tredway gasped, peering at five nuclear warheads laying in a neat row on the floor. Turning to the captives, Major Tredway demanded, "Where were you planning on sending these boys?" Looking at each other, the captives furtively replied, "Non comprende!" Disgusted, Major Tredway pivoted to Levake and snapped, "Call General Watson and let him know that the Amazans are working their way north and get me a goddamn person who speaks Portuguese!" "Yes Sir!" Lieutenant Levake agreed and set off to his immediate task. Major Tredway stared at the nukes with a combined feeling of terror and fascination. He nervously ran his hand through his hair and glanced again at the captives. The war was coming.