[h1]Greece[/h1] [h2]Giannitsa, Pella Department, Greece[/h2] Niko hated having to make these routine trips to Macedonia of all places. Giannitsa was the last place one would expect the center of Greek automotive manufacturing to be. It was hardly a major city, and almost a third of the population was ethnically Turkish. The city had come to be known under the nickname of “Little Turkey”, and the locals had taken to calling it by its Turkish name, Yenice, though most of it's inhabitants had been born and raised in Greece. Still, one was just as likely to hear workers in the factories gossiping in Turkish as in Greek. Niko hated speaking Turkish, he despised the sound of it, the look of it, everything. Yet his father had required him to learn it. Instead of the sweet sounds of French, he was tiring and laboring over a barbaric language brought by invaders. No matter how necessary it was for him, he would never enjoy listening to it, and never appreciate the feel of it coming off his tongue. Niko was all too aware of what went on in Giannitsa, his father had invested significant effort into making the automotive industry functional here. Nikolaos Zachariadis Jr., head of the Department of Industry of Greece. Factories under his authority like this one dotted the landscape of Macedonia. Sure, a few outliers could be found in Athens or the Peloponnese, but Macedonia was the industrial heart of all of Greece. The national company his father had installed into the land was even given an optimistic name. Alexandros Automotives: Reliable from Greece to India But civilian concerns were not the reason for visiting today. The head of this factory, a short, fat Slavic man named Boris, was sitting in his office going over the numbers of his plant. He had grown up a little bit farther north in Edessa. Neither a Greek nor a Turk, he belonged to a native Slavic culture found in the far north of Greece and the far south of Serbia. They called themselves Macedonians, but the Greeks preferred to just call them “Slavs”. Boris had worked hard to make it this far, having none of the benefit of being a Greek, nor the social programs to help Macedonian Turks. Niko was no more a fan of Slavs than he was of Turks, and it showed in his entrance. “Boris,” Niko said without emotion, not even extending a handshake to the head of the plant. “I assume you know why I'm here,” Boris swallowed hard at the statement. “I have some idea” “Really?” Niko responded, eying the foreman. “So are you just lazy or stupid?” Niko's expression changed into one of anger as he spoke again. “Consistently you have managed to ensure that this location is under performing,” Niko slammed a folder full of reports on Factory #334, showing its low output. “It's amazing, really, that you can manage to so poorly run a location. We are beginning a massive war effort, and I expect that you are going to be able to deliver some kind of improved output, so that we're not just jacking off in the mountains, and actually manage to accomplish something. But I'm probably asking too much of you in that regard. Since this conflict has started you've managed to drag your ass in actually contributing to the war effort.” Niko lit up a cigarette as he finished speaking, seeing the very noticeable shaking that was present in Boris. Being the head of the department meant he always got the pleasure of cutting out and fixing weak links in the machine. “So, pack your shit and get out, Boris. I don't have any use for you if you're going to be a burden on the war effort. You have until the end of the week to leave, and by then we'll have found someone who is capable of actually keeping up output.” Niko turned away before he could see any emotion creep up in the Slavic man's face. Production was of the essence, and he could not afford to have the war effort undermined by some useless peon. [h2]Argyrokastro, Northern Epirus Autonomous Region[/h2] A tip had gotten off the other day about seditious behavior in an Albanian bar in the north of Argyrokastro. A little dive bar called “Maja e Malit”, a well known hang out for Albanian nationalists and monarchists. Two days ago, a tip was given, about unusual behavior going on among the patrons of the establishment. Treasonous discussion, distribution of anti-Government literature. Talks had come of a strange figure, a man calling himself Gjergj Kastrioti, frequenting the establishment, spreading dissent and attempting to recruit into his nationalist organization. Military police were ready, and a raid on the bar was about to go down. The signal went out, and the doors of the bar were kicked down. Screaming echoed out as women and men ran for cover as the military police entered into the room. A few attempted to run, only to be stopped by the police as they attempted to flee. The raid progressed further, as the police broke down the door into the back offices. Or so they thought. The greeting they received was a gun shot, returned in turn as the would be Albanian assailant fell to the ground. It had been underestimated just how much was behind the bar. [h2]Popular Civil Guard HQ, Thessaloniki, Macedonia Department[/h2] [i]For too long we have been subjugated by foreign powers. Since before written history, our tribes have been held under the yoke of the Romans, followed by the Byzantines, the Ottomans, and now, the Greeks control us, with the lie of a free state created to make us placid and malleable by outside powers. All aspects of our very core as a people have been forcibly altered by those who would control us. Is not our language contaminated by words imposed upon us by the Romans? Does not over half of our people adhere to that religion brought by the Ottomans, while another half pretends to be free while subjugating themselves to the Greek and Roman chuches. He says he is free and follows an Albanian religion but knows not the history that brought us in to the Christian faith. We had hope, in the great King Zog, chosen of God, a man who had brought forth Albania as a true nation, not merely a collection of warlords. However he has left us with an ineffective king. This is unfortunately true. However, King Skander is not the only option. For King Zog had a brother, Prince Xhalil who produced a suitable heiress for rulership. Princess Xhemile of the perfect age of 19 as of the publication of this tract, can provide us with a long lasting leader that can unite the Albanians in opposition to invasion. The plan is simple, the necessary steps that Skanderbeg's Own must take into account to ensure the optimal Albanian state against invasion. 1. We must liberate all Albanian territiories from foreign invaders 2. We must force the incompetent King Skander IV to abdicate to his cousin, Princess Xhamile 3. We must return Albania to its traditional values, and codify what an Albanian is and how he must act. 4. Free Albania from degenerate foreign influences. Anyone can see it is plain how an Albanian should act. An Albanian is he who speaks the language, who practices Islam (the only religion we can make our own, and that we can separate from some foreign power such as Catholicism and Orthodox Christianity, that bind us to Rome and to the Greeks), and follows our old ways and traditions. Under the rule of Princess Xhamile Zogu, and with the guidance of Skaderbeg's Own, we shall purge all the foreign influences from Albania ,and bring our nation into a new golden age. Go with God, my friends and brothers, for it is up to you to defend the fatherland. Further instructions will follow. But may this booklet guide you until then. Atdha “Gjergj Kastroti”[/i] “What the hell am I looking at, exactly?” “It's called Atdha. It means "Fatherland" in Albanian. These, along with a plethora of other copies, were recovered from a bar after we receive d a tip of nationalist activity going on there. Turns out the place was a center of activity for this group, called Skanderbeg's Own. This looks to be their manifesto, written not only in Tosk but in Gheg and even Arvanitika” Vasilis Bartziolas ran his hands over his head. At a time like this, the potential for domestic terrorism was far from what he wanted. It was already enough to have to be monitoring the Albanians as was, but having a potential terrorist organization brewing within Greek borders was something else. “What do we know about them?” The assistant tossed a file onto the table, “They seem be fairly new, forming mostly in Northern Epirus, with some support found in the South Epirus Department as well. Their leader calls himself Gjergj Kastroti, in reference to Skanderbeg, the Albanian national hero.” The assistant then opened up the file to show a picture of a young man, looking to be about in his late 20s, clean shaven, reddish blonde hair, no distinguishing facial features other than a rather long and pointed nose. “His real name is Ahmet Pashaj according to one of the members we interrogated. He's from Tirana originally, later moved to Korytza, but then settled in Argyrokastro after it was brought into Greece.” “Anything else?” inquired Vasilis The assistant's face twisted into a look of disgust. “He's got a record of involvement in ultra-right and nationalist movements in his short 25 years of life that put some other right winger's to shame. He was rejected from military service in Albania due to a crime he was convicted of back in his teenage years, but he's pretty well known in Tirana for his beliefs.” “Which are?” “Extreme Albanian nationalism, ultra-right conservativism, Islamic fundamentalism, praising of autocratic rule. He was a major supporter of Zog's regime, but believed that Zog didn't go far enough in establishing what he believed were “traditional Albanian values”. “And this Princess he talks about?” “Ah yes, Xhamile Zogu. The cousin of Skander Zogu, by way of Zog's brother Xhalil's son Skender. She's the next in line after Skander dies.” “And where is she?” “Germany” “Germany?” “Her father moved to France sometime after Zog took power in the state, and that branch later relocated to Germany after France became socialist. Xhamile lives somewhere in Frankfurt, but she'd almost undoubtedly return if Skander were to perish, as Pashaj's group desires. My guess is that Skanderbeg's Own plans to kill Skander and force Xhamile into power, while using her favor as a means to get into positions of power over Albania, and hopefully mold into their desired image. Xhamile is still just a young woman, they probably see her as weak and easily manipulated into favoring them. Xhamile presents a threat as she's a far more capable ruler, and might gain international support for her rule, as opposed to Skander, who can barely eat on his own. But the biggest threat comes in the potential for Skanderbeg's own to conduct terrorist campaigns against us. We could see them attacking civilians to invoke terror, or see them damaging key points in Epirus to try and cripple the war effort, and cut off our support of Hoxha's men.” “So what do you propose we do about it?” “First will be to begin cracking down on their meeting places. It will be best to put all Albanians in Epirus and Greece under surveillance, and to carefully monitor any establishments frequented by Albanians. The security in both Epiruses must be increased, and we will need extra defenses around key transportation sites to Albania.” [h2]Ioaninna, South Epirus Department[/h2] Souroupo was a popular nightclub for the working men and women of Ioannina. Muhammat Burim had managed to get into the club easily. No eye was drawn to him, no one suspecting anything. At least he thought so, before he knew it, one of the bouncers had caught up to him. “Hey, you, yeah you.” Muhammat turned to catch his eye, “What have you got in there?” “You will see soon enough, you will all see in time.” “Open the jacket” Muhammat simply started laughing “Can you not here, I said open the jacket!” The laughing just continued, as other patrons even began to notice. “This is the last warning, open the damn jacket!” But the only movement was when Muhammat pulled a string on his vest. “In the name of Allah and the House of Zogu, justice will be done” And in one loud blast, it was clear what he had been hiding.