SgtEasy

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Oh whoops, I just jumped straight to posting. But its 2am right now so I hoped the post was decent.

Oh, and the mistletoe scene is for anyone :P

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

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Centre Point - Friday Evening

^{@PrinceAlexus, @Rabidporcupine, @valckyriie, @Pilatus, @aladdin_sane, @Silver Fox, [@Almathia] or anyone else who wants to mess with Jamal}

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If you spent long enough as a police officer, you get to discover the traits which a person has when they are "scared". Even subtle ones got easier to notice. Twitchy fingers, tapping feet, gulping, coughing and scratching. When dealing with criminals who were not used to be locked up, fear was a common reaction to the sight of the police approaching. Begging, crying and lots of denial. As a thug, it was much the same thing when most normal people looked at him. They averted their eyes or paused in their conversation slightly. Most just tried to avoid his gaze. Jamal had to give it to this Russian girl however. She was holding quite well, despite the slight tremble in her eyes. It was unusual for a girl two feet taller than him to be able to talk to him so confidently, it was commendable. 'Definitely trained.' he thought, giving a little grunt of acknowledgement for her mistake. But as she turned away, his thoughts broke away from something as simple as observation. Her response brought more questions than answers and his mind began filling up with thoughts. She wasn't aware of who he was working for? Any self-respecting Mafia member would inspect and research the area they would be working in before entering a city. The name Delossantos held weight in the underground of Sol City (and the cities which surrounded it but he was yet to confirm that) so only the inexperienced would come here without any recognition of the name. He narrowed his eyes at the girls back as she walked away to her friend. She wasn't a normal girl but it was likely she wasn't a criminal either.

The undercover officer glanced back over his shoulder at the pair he was looking at earlier. The woman seemed to be talking with another man, a muscular figure but was definitely a civilian. Despite the calluses which adorned the man's hands, there wasn't enough grit in his eyes. The elderly man still looked suspicious however, those eyes were far too sharp. Maybe a smuggler? Some sort of criminal which goes in and out of cities all the time? A trafficker perhaps? This "family" posed so many questions that it was starting to annoy him. There were too many unknowns and two conflicting sides that told two very different stories. He internally groaned and wished that he had invested more in working with the Investigation department. Those nerds could solve a case of multiple suspects, locations and victims with contradicting evidence in what seemed like a jiffy. That type of skill would have been useful right now. Alas, beggars could not be choosers and he would not be caught near any police stations in the foreseeable future. Would've been too suspicious and as previously mentioned, the man was paranoid to a fault. He narrowed his eyes at the back of the leaving girl, frustrated at the amount of questions she made instead of answers. Approaching her now would be too forward, too aggressive. The police around here already seemed jumpy enough and the party had become a powder keg waiting to explode.

And a drugging? So more criminals, potential rivals, were bound to show up in the party. If he wasn't so frustrated by the conundrum the girl posed, Jamal would have pitied the girl in her past experiences. Things like that were all too common in this city, despite the glamourised reputation it held. But if people like those scum, powerful fools, got to do their merry way with the citizens he was sworn to protect, he sometimes doubted if the glamour of Sol City could be upheld. It was his job to make sure it was safer after all and nothing seemed to make things better. And mysteries like this girl and her connection to previously mentioned pair just made the job a whole lot harder. He wasn't pleased by this turn of events, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in mute frustration. His lips turned thin as he absentmindedly walked through the crowd, doing his job as an intimidating grunt while thinking about the future of his city. He barged through the crowd, nudging a drunkard in his way who thought it would be funny to sing "Santa Baby" to him. By "nudge", the finely dressed drunk tumbled out of his way and into a sitting woman's lap. The female cop did not look pleased.

Jamal walked in and around the crowd, noting that his fellow companions had been doing the same but one of them seemed to come closer to him. Taken out of his thoughts, he set himself in character and nodded at the approaching man. He was tall, bald broad shouldered and had darker skin than him. He looked far more serious than the other two but he was still a thug. Arrested for possession of a firearm and crystal meth, he was still a criminal but was tolerable to work with. The man grabbed his arm and took him away from the crowd, pulling him to the darker parts of the town as he protested. The bald man came to a stop andhe made a show of brushing the man off, pulling his arm out of his grip. The man just glared at his fake bravado. At least he took his job seriously.

"Boss lady says we have a situation so you need to stop it with the showy movements, dumbass. The police are looking now." Jamal snorted loudly. It wasn't as if they weren't already aware of their presence. "With our tall black asses? Cops have had us sniffed ever since we came into this fuckin' shindig. Racist assholes." He faked a glare towards an officer who was lingered his eyes on him for too long. The blonde man turned his head and the actor smirked. It was a newbie mistake to let your eyes linger for too long. His private moment of amusement was broken by a sharp slap to the side of his head. He glared at the man opposite to him who just glared back in return.

"Keep focused idiot, we have a job to do and I got shit to tell you. Some one percenters were seen approaching this here party and more boys are coming 'round to back us up. They're escorting some limo or some shit, probably some big shot one percenter. If those ballsy bastards think they can show her up, we're gonna prove that we have the biggest cocks in town. If it's a dick measuring contest they want, they're gonna get it. Twelve more boys are waiting in their cars, unmarked and tinted. They're loaded with some new shit that Boss Lady got from out of town. If a turf wars gonna happen, we're gonna teach those inbred, redneck Bubbas how we fight. You ready newbie? If shit goes down and people are killed, I don't need no inexperienced new guy freezing up."

The secret officer just scoffed confidently, even as his mind raced a hundred miles an hour. "I got this shit motherfucker, I ain't no fuckin' New Guy." The bald man nodded and left, going through the crowd once more. Jamal swore under his breath. This was not how he wanted this to go down. More thoughts ran through his mind. What would he do, if the "shit" truly went down? If things went sideways and he had to fight? What would the officers do, shoot at them? All it took was trigger happy officer and it would become a three way fight. Hell, what would those "Russians" do? Run? Fight? What if they had their own piece in this shit cake? A headache started to form, a dull aching pain starting to come over him. He rubbed his temples, taking another walk through Centre Point. This was starting to go above his pay grade and he considered playing the part of coward and running it. Better to ask for forgiveness later rather than potentially dying for a woman he hated and had no respect for. This was a frisky situation.

Jamal spent his walk trying to keep make a decision and before he knew it, he found himself nearing the entrance. He stood under a lamplight, crossing his arms and scanned the crowd. There were a pair of dancers in the middle of the square but he couldn't see over the mass of the crowd. But he did see one of his companions moving towards the dance floor like an idiot. The cardboard atrocity was out of his sight, so were the three "Russians" and their civilian company. A few new arrivals were of interest. A redheaded beauty had entered the party, catching a few glances with her striking hair. She approached another woman who was currently busy... staring? A pale man started to approach coffee table. Another, more scarred man (woman? he couldn't tell) walked into the square and he found himself gazing up at the giraffe human. He/She was freakishly tall and would have been intimidating if it wasn't for the warming atmosphere he/she seemed to make. Someone with such clear innocence was a sight for jaded eyes, warming his cold heart for a second. What a sweet girl. This small moment of warmth was interrupted by a server who started to walk towards him.

The darker man glared at the server and they swiftly turned, walking as swiftly as they could away from him. Jamal turned his gaze towards the entrance and saw a blonde woman of noteworthiness. She carried herself with confidence and scanned the crowd. Those were the eyes of no mere civilian. His eyes locked on to hers and it clicked. Marshal. He had been informed during his op about a few marshals operating within the city and to be wary of them. He had been shown pictures. They were not "in" on his cover and were more observant than the average policeman. He quickly averted his eyes and walked off, hoping that she didn't do anything. Unfortunately, his luck seemed to have run out a few days ago.

Two weirdly dressed men walked out of a limo, not as lavishly dressed as others in the party but seemed to have the confidence that could only come with wealth. Similarly dressed men began to surround them even as one of the men proudly proclaimed his arrival to the crowd. Jamal connected the dots. Limo? Were these the one percenters that he had been warned about? Warning sirens went off in his head as he watched one of his companions approaching the supposed one percenters, not noticing their arrival. He had to keep their attention away from them or risk a gang war starting in the middle of the party. He strode towards the group of opposing gang members, his mind churning for ideas. But situations seemed to love throwing themselves at him.

He knocked into someone on his walk. He helped them up and apologised but his eyes never left the group ahead of him. However, the other pair of eyes noticed the mistletoe hanging on the lamppost they stood under.

Poor Jamal.

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

So much to interact witb... I'm so excited

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

802

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Gonna work on a post now, stable internet not from mcdonalds is coming so Im getting a post ready for that :)

Volæria: A Red Rose in November

Whoop whoop we getting closer :)

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Posted, hope its a decent intro post. A showing of events both in and out of Algeria :) Didnt have time to proofread because I was at maccas mcdonalds.

Tenses are a bitch and I cant ever get them right so my apologies

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Tindouf, Tindouf Province, Algeria - June 1960

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Gunfire wasn't an uncommon sound in the South. It also wasn't uncommon to see a fair few pieces of shrapnel or stray bullets flying near the town. The nearby townspeople merely shrugged, keeping their head down while doing daily tasks. Many would call this arrogance (and perhaps it was) but the people of Tindouf placed their trust in the hardy Algerian soldiers which patrolled and protected the town. Ever since tensions between Traditionalists and government kicked off, the two have been fighting it out in the desert dunes in Tindouf Province where their main support lies. While the provincial capital had stayed loyal, many of the villages surrounding the town soon turned to the extreme rhetoric of the Traditionalists. They were swayed to their side and now fellow countrymen fought, colouring the sands with crimson. Although their opposition was growing in number, the military were steadfast in their duty and were even pushing back slightly, despite being surrounded on most sides. The only roads that weren't held by Traditionalists was the one leading to loyalist Garet Djebilet and to a nearby military outpost which is currently also under siege to the west.

Some would wonder why Tindouf Province is so important. But despite its barren landscape and lack of water, iron ore is common to find underneath the dunes. There was an iron mine held in Garet Djebilet where fierce fighting was going on underground and above ground. There was also a great number of borders connected to the province and if it ever fell, fighting could spill into neighbouring countries which would hinder the war effort and relations. It could also show the current presidency to be a weak one, something which the President could not afford. It was why the Supreme Commander had told the brave Algerian men and women to stand their ground until help could arrive. Even now, the military was actively recruiting and mobilising troops, readying them to replace the battered forces which kept the state's enemies at bay. Every soldier became a patriot as most of the senior NCOs and COs had fought in the War for Independence, instilling a sense of pride and purpose within their ranks. If the President had deemed the province of Tindouf to be defended, then by Allah's guidance they were going to hold their ground. Fortunately, that's what they've done for the past few months since the fighting intensified. They built their sandbag walls, made sniper positions on buildings on the outskirts of town, machine gun nests would be operated 24/7 and cavalry sat in wait for a counter-charge. The government made no shortcuts with their country's military and has some of the highest military spending budgets in Africa due to the constant threat of terrorism and civil war.

But ever since word had come that the Traditionalists had made new allies, the government was getting anxious. Therefore they had sneaked in the best of the best of their military into the fray who could best gain the solid intel needed and had the highest likelihood to survive a disastrous scenario. Sergeant Muhammad Lellouche was one such person. Standing at 6' 3", he was a very tall and broad shouldered man whose stern face seemed to be able to melt iron. Even through the sesh turban which covered most of his head and face, his eyes could still pierce a man. He kept his hands firm on the MAS Modèle 36 in his hands, scanning the desert from atop his dune to keep watch. It was an old weapon, stolen from the French during the War of Independence. They were being phased out of the military but he had kept his hands on one, trusting this older version of carbine over the new ones. He was always a more traditional man over all, preferring familiarity over hard specifications. And no one could argue with him, he was the heart of the Algerian SpecOps. Lellouche had first served in the Modernist military since the War of Independence as a child, riding his then pony up and down the ranks to carry ammunition and supplies. A risky job that made him face death more times than he could count at the age of 15.

Now, at the age of 29, Lellouche still served the military. He had refused his promotions and preferred to be a non-commissioned officer who could be on the ground, serving the people who were under him. Although fiercely loyal, he was starting to get tired of killing his countrymen. Even from this dune on the other side of town, he could hear the overwhelming cracking of gunfire. He sighed, opening his mouth wide to crack his jaw. He checked back on his loyal steed Eva and his other patrol members, fellow Algerian Special Forces. He once more peered into the distance, using his binoculars to scan the horizon before carefully sliding down the dune towards the camp. He tapped the next soldier for a swap out. The Sahrawi man looked back at him with sharp eyes and spoke in a thick Saharan accent.

"Any Tradies out there Sarge? Command was expecting an attack on our position while most of us are at the northern side of the city." He was gripping a Karabiner 98k Sniper Variant, one of the older but serviceable models in the Algerian military. It didn't mean that Ibrahim wasn't any less deadly for it. They had all served in this war for several months and knew how much of a crackshot the squad sniper could be.

"Horizon's clean of any traitors Private. Only us and the desert right now, let's make sure it stays that way." Ibrahim nodded and slung his Kar98 around his shoulder, starting to make his way up the slope. Lellouche sat down and looked around at the group surrounding him. They were all tired, rubbing their eyes but still sharp as day. They weren't Special Forces like him, just regular infantrymen who were transferred to him. All Special Forces were split up by command as soon as they managed to sneak through enemy lines. They were to lead squads of 12 standard infantry or conscripts from the town to serve as mentors and to "assure loyalty among the ranks". He was ordered to shoot anyone who refused his orders, switched sides or deserted. He almost ran at the portly senior officer who dared such an order but his companions held him back. Thankfully, his gun remained clean, his twelve man squad of regulars remained loyal and that bastard of an officer was so far proven wrong about infantry resolve.

The camp that they occupied was small, a tent pitched up in the middle of the camp. A machine gun nest sat idle without an operator Bedrolls and packs were neatly set against each other but they were suspiciously all packed up.

A query took the elder sergeant out of his thoughts, turning his gaze to the origin. The young piercing blue eyes of Lieutenant Harcourt Hamilton Bernard stared right back at him. Although his superior, the squad was essentially Lellouche's under command's orders and the Pied-Noir officer had fallen into second in command. He was fresh, young and eager at the start of this war. The blood spilt had served to dull those once enthusiastic eyes peering through the brown sesh he wore. "Sergeant" he started, speaking in fluent but accented Arabic "there have been queries from the men about-" Several grumbles were heard, the squad females making their voices known. The officer just blushed slightly and coughed, continuing with "From the men and women about when the squad was to be swapped out for a fresh squad. We have been here for most of 48 hours and that long of a service time has proven quite tiring."

"We have our orders to stick by it Lieutenant, we are to hold our positions for as long as possible." He replied briskly, noting how sluggish the rest of his squad was. He almost reprimanded them for laziness but stopped a second before. These were normal men and women, he told himself. They were not trained for holding such long shifts.

The younger officer crossed his arms and stood his ground. "We must contact command for a swap out Sergeant. This is a matter of wellbeing and safety for the soldiers who serve under us. We cannot continue to work this shift without significant decreases in combat ability."

"Bloody Frenchmen and their nonsense." Lellouche swore under his breath in Berber, low enough that no one could hear him. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, standing up to the younger man. "Are you defying my orders Lieutenant? Orders that are to be taken like they were high command itself? I need not remind you the price for insubordination, do I?"

Harcourt blanched slightly but seemed to stand his ground, adamant to speak about the wellbeing of his men. Say what you want about the Pied-Noir but their officers were always caring about the people who served under them. Lellouche continued on, placing a finger near his trigger and gazed at every soldier's eyes. "You do not want to take your chances against me. If any of you disobey me, I am under orders to shoot any traitor. I want my bullets to spill Tradie blood, not comrades who have served under me in this bloody conflict. Do not make me your enemy."

The tension was thick for a few seconds before Harcourt silently sat back down although a defiant gaze was in his eyes. Lellouche just kept his hands on his carbine, the threat still hanging in the air. Then, a distant cracking sound was heard but more distinct than the others. The sound of bullet piercing skin was second followed by Ibrahim's body tumbling down the sand hill behind them. Everyone sprang into, tensions shoved away to face this new threat. Southern Tindouf was under attack. "Noor! Tend to the horses and keep them calm throughout the fight! Everyone into positions!" The sergeant yelled orders before running towards the command tent. While a half-dozen soldiers dived towards the various compacted sand piles serving as cover, a third one covering the tent. Sandbags were placed between the piles with peep covers, some taking position there with Lieutenant Harcourt while two soldiers went to operate the machine gun.

The Sergeant pushed the tent flaps away and was greeted with the messenger. A Homing Pigeon was calmly perched in its cage, staring at the familiar face. He ignored the bird and took out a pen and paper, writing down a quick but urgent message.

NEED ASSISTANCE, ENEMY HAS ARRIVED. NOT ENOUGH MEN TO HOLD GROUND. BACKUP REQUIRED.

Lellouche proceeded to roll the paper and stuffed it into the small tube before opening the cage. The pigeon soared out of the tent and into the desert sky, its training would do the rest. He let it leave through the tent flaps before exiting, he sprinted towards a sand pile. He went to lay next to Corporal Hakim, shouldered his carbine and peered into the distance. What sounded like a horde of horses came closer, a thunderous sound of overwhelming force. As the first horses galloped down the horizon, he contemplated whether he would be living to the end of the day. He steeled his resolve and hoped that the message would be carried through. The men and women around him hardened their gazes and looked through their sights. Despite previous tension, he couldn't have been any prouder.

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Algerian Embassy, Duchy of German West Afrika - June 1960

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Ana was by no means a weak woman. She was strong willed, intelligent and had fought for her position as a foreign ambassador. Even in her privileged position due to her gender, there were many others who were thought to be qualified for this job. She had to prove she was more loyal and diplomatic than any of those other plebeians who thought they were better as well. Her previous status as a Wali of Algiers may have helped her to get this position but she had still worked hard! The ambassador to the Duchy had unfortunately died of a heart attack a week earlier and she was sent to replace him. Previous relations with the Duchy had been tense due to its monarchical government and imperialist overtones but current situations made the government desperate. As the fighting in Tindouf intensified, the President was getting worried that fighting would spill into the neighbouring province of Béchar where many fund were put into water pipelines to make grazing possible in the otherwise barren hamadas. Every Algerian knew the threat of famine and the harsh landscape of their homeland caused them to cultivate in lands that would have otherwise been left untouched. If fighting spilt into Béchar, there was a potential for a severe shortage in food. It was her job to secure a trade agreement with the Duchy for food.

But this was the first step in a very large plan to increase Algeria's foreign relations with other countries. Ana could recall what the President had personally said to her. "For too long, the governments of Algeria have only ooked within their borders. It is time to find friends in Africa." The new ambassador had agreed wholeheartedly. The country had limited relations with the outside world and although tourists came in and out of the country all throughout the year, it had little diplomatic ties with any country aside from its neighbours in the Arab World. Many of the older generation would agree that this was enough but they were hardcore nationalists, blinded by arrogance and patriotism. Though the President and Algeria's newest ambassadors were no traitor, they were not keen on being isolationist and unimportant in the world's politics. She had absentmindedly thought about whether the old ambassador's death was more than a mere coincidence but brushed it aside. President Hamidou was a fair man, he wouldn't devolve into such barbaric tactics such as murder to get the right people in power. That was the type of act a brutal monarchist would make, not a democratic man like Hamidou. It was a simple, convenient coincidence.

A light knock on her office door took her out of her thoughts. Ana called out to them to come in and the door revealed the gaunt, rugged face of her "secretary". Corporal Ali Zaidi was not a man to be trifled with. He was there for her security and posed as her secretary. He was good at it and filled in his shoes as a mere secretary to an ambassador very well. The man had been so good at acting that she wondered if he was who he said he was. He could've been special forces for all she knew but he was loyal and looked menacing which was enough for her. "Ma'am, the cab has arrived to take you to the Royal Palace." She nodded and stood up, grabbing her suitcase full of documents and notes. She followed her posing secretary out through the door and out the embassy, pausing for a bit as the heat assaulted her body. Thankfully, she had chosen to wear a beautiful black and gold karakou dress which was loose fitting and good for the high temperatures of Africa.

Ana was led into an Audi of German-make though she wasn't sure of what specific model. The black African man driving the cab smiled and said "Where can I take you today Ambassador? The Royal Palace?"

She smiled back and replied in perfect German "Yes, thank you for driving us Herr Litumbe." He flashed his white teeth and drove forward. Corporal Zaidi spoke first after the silence, speaking in Berber. "I do not know if I trust this man Ms. Rochelle. Monarchists are known to use their black underlings to spy or sabotage the unsuspecting."

Ana kept a pristine face but frowned on the inside. "It will be fine secretary Zaidi, this man has driven us before and I do not doubt his intentions. If he is a government agent of some sort, I will not be discussing state secrets of any sort. I doubt he knows how to understand any sort of Berber, let alone our town's dialect and at the speed of which we are talking."

Zaidi nodded once and looked out of the window. Ana joined him in watching German Kamerun pass through the window. Though nothing compared to Algiers in her eyes, he could see that many of the black citizens were quite well off and the city was fairly beautiful. It also wasn't surrounded by barren landscape so she could concede that point. The closer they got to the royal palace, the richer the neighbourhoods got and quite expectantly, the whiter the citizens were. Though there were a surprising amount of darker faces walking in the crowds. As the cab neared its destination, she wondered if the negotiations were going to go as planned. Securing the trade agreement and making a powerful ally in Africa was going to be difficult. But Ana Rochelle Dupond was no weak woman.

"To the lions den we go." Her companion muttered but she dismissed it. She kept a positive face and a clean, pristine smile.

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

@Almalthia

Ha! Jamal and dancing? Wouldn't catch him doing that, he's more of thw "If you tango with me, you will know true pain " kind of guy

Sol City [Modern Slice of Life] . (CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED!) . ARCHIVED

Oh btw, I'll be making a post (wont be able to post but oh well, unless I find Maccas), and Ill be situating a blissfully unaware Jamal under a mistletoe. So. Yeah :P

@Silver Fox Im looking at you because it would be hilarious but anyone is fine for the lols