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I honestly hadn't picked a picture until after writing this, so the picture may not exactly match up. It's more to give a general idea on what it would look like, but it is a serious oversight on my part. Something to look out for in the future. My apologies.
So that's why the American's couldn't find the WMD's that they were trying to find in OTL Iraq! 
Well you can have that kind of C&C center, but it can't be stealthy, unless you are willing to pay 1 billion per unit, like B1s. What you could do on the other hand is have a Big esentialy pasanger plane, networked with AWACSs and most importantly stealthy drones (Predators and their ilk). C&C center might as well be on the other side of the globe then.
Wait and See
So that's why the American's couldn't find the WMD's that they were trying to find in OTL Iraq!
But of course.
I believe that this plane would be networked with AWACs and stealthy drones. As for the reason why this sort of C&C center has been brought into existence, may be explored further later on.
presume it would be too convoluted to link the missing bit of weaponry in this post to the earlier destroyed white car?
Moscow
“National income is continuing to rise, Mr. President, and we expect further industrialization by the end of the year. With the ongoing effects of the 90s, and your own recent efforts to boost the economy, we expect Russian industrial capacity to increase a total of say ...”
Putin watched as the man pushed up his glasses and checked his papers. He perused through them, flipping over one, and then another in quick succession.
“10%” he shrugged, looking back up at Putin. Vladimir nodded and leaned back in his chair.
“Very good, Minister, you are dismissed.” Putin waved haphazardly.
Instinctively, the man gathered up his things, muttering complaints under his breath and thick moustache. The bulbous man lumbered up from his chair, pushing it back without intention, and then casually waltzed out of the room, the pungent air of pride following him through the door.
Without a moment of rest, the Minister of Defence came through the door, a file all too familiar to Mr. Putin in his hand. Operation Scarlet. The one that should have gone off ... He checked his watch. The one that should have gone off 2 hours and 17 minutes ago.
“Mr. President, I have news on Scarlet for you.” The man said, taking off his beret and laying it on the table, with the folder, as he took his seat.
“Yes, I have been waiting for the news.”
“Things are ... more complicated than we first thought.”
“What do you mean, complicated?”
“Our teams removed the device. The Syrian mercenaries were put in place like we had planned. But ...” The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“But what?” Putin said, tilting his head to the side, like a tiger looking at something curious.
“We know that they reached the Iranian border. We know that they reached the first rally point. After that, they completely disappear. We have no trace of them. No trace of the fu- ... No trace of Scarlet.”
“It’s simply gone?” Putin said, hiding his rage as best he could.
“Under our very nose.” The General said. “We don’t know if its the Iranians or the Iraqis stealing it back, of its just some rogue piss head who’s going to sell it on the market. God knows it could even be the Koreans.” The man said, clutching his hands with white knuckles.
“All of our resources must be pulled onto this task. I want the men who have done this found, and –“ Putin’s eye was caught by a beauty outside his office. She wore a tight fitting suit, with a skirt that ran just above her knees. She had long hair, and a luxurious copper skin. He wished her to turn her head, and, as if she had heard his call, the woman did so. It was Maria Gaidar. He tore himself back to his task at hand, somewhat reluctantly.
“and I want them hung in the Kremlin by their entrails, am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then get it done.”
“National income is continuing to rise, Mr. President, and we expect further industrialization by the end of the year. With the ongoing effects of the 90s, and your own recent efforts to boost the economy, we expect Russian industrial capacity to increase a total of say ...”
Putin watched as the man pushed up his glasses and checked his papers. He perused through them, flipping over one, and then another in quick succession.
“10%” he shrugged, looking back up at Putin. Vladimir nodded and leaned back in his chair.
“Very good, Minister, you are dismissed.” Putin waved haphazardly.
Instinctively, the man gathered up his things, muttering complaints under his breath and thick moustache. The bulbous man lumbered up from his chair, pushing it back without intention, and then casually waltzed out of the room, the pungent air of pride following him through the door.
Without a moment of rest, the Minister of Defence came through the door, a file all too familiar to Mr. Putin in his hand. Operation Scarlet. The one that should have gone off ... He checked his watch. The one that should have gone off 2 hours and 17 minutes ago.
“Mr. President, I have news on Scarlet for you.” The man said, taking off his beret and laying it on the table, with the folder, as he took his seat.
“Yes, I have been waiting for the news.”
“Things are ... more complicated than we first thought.”
“What do you mean, complicated?”
“Our teams removed the device. The Syrian mercenaries were put in place like we had planned. But ...” The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“But what?” Putin said, tilting his head to the side, like a tiger looking at something curious.
“We know that they reached the Iranian border. We know that they reached the first rally point. After that, they completely disappear. We have no trace of them. No trace of the fu- ... No trace of Scarlet.”
“It’s simply gone?” Putin said, hiding his rage as best he could.
“Under our very nose.” The General said. “We don’t know if its the Iranians or the Iraqis stealing it back, of its just some rogue piss head who’s going to sell it on the market. God knows it could even be the Koreans.” The man said, clutching his hands with white knuckles.
“All of our resources must be pulled onto this task. I want the men who have done this found, and –“ Putin’s eye was caught by a beauty outside his office. She wore a tight fitting suit, with a skirt that ran just above her knees. She had long hair, and a luxurious copper skin. He wished her to turn her head, and, as if she had heard his call, the woman did so. It was Maria Gaidar. He tore himself back to his task at hand, somewhat reluctantly.
“and I want them hung in the Kremlin by their entrails, am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then get it done.”
Exciting stuff. I imagine Putin has got unused to being disappointed in this manner.
Of Dreams and Memories - Part I
I stood in the hallway as it was blown apart. Gunfire, explosions, screaming everywhere. Shrapnel and rubble flew off of buildings down the street, as the glass window down the hall shattered into a thousand pieces, striking the floor and jumping from it like dancers in a ballet. Men with guns were everywhere. Not soldiers. These men had no uniforms. Nothing to distinguish them, merely a man with blurred face and bloody hands squeezing the trigger at one another.
Unfazed, I walked forward, dressed in my suit. The one I always wore when we went to dinner. The one that she liked the most. It was my favourite too, I remember. The screaming of the hollow men filled the hall as they rushed from the windows and pillars on either side of me. Bullets careened off of them, striking the floor and walls, one piercing the leg of a man.
Chipped marble and shattered concrete littered the ground, crushed under each step I took. The dirt from the fighting merely slipped from my shoes and clothes.
“Alexei!” I heard someone call in a muffled voice. On my left, there was a side room, with walls of white, a bed and light across from me. Romov was there, younger and not bearded.
A younger Romov.
“I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He said to me, turning to a woman beside him. “This is Jetta. Jetta, this is Alexei. Would you like to join us for dinner?” he asked me. The girl had light brown eyes, and hair that ran to her shoulders. Her eyes rose from the floor and her naked body, a smile flickering across her face, the smile of a young woman, filled with life and excitement, eager for adventure.
Even if I wanted too, I kept walking. Romov smiled and turned from me, wrapping his arm around the girl. On my next step, an explosion tore through the wall before them, engulfing them as time slowed for me. As the fire and smoke cleared, there was nothing but soldiers huddling under cover, and firing at an enemy hidden amongst a concrete jungle across a littered and scared road.
The gentle, black marble of the wall soon enveloped the image as I walked on.
“Alexei!” I heard again. On my right, as men looked and fired through broken glass at fallen structures, I found myself staring at a door along the windowed hall. I did not question the layout of the door, flanked by windows that betrayed a nothingness behind it.
The door, I soon discovered, was ajar, and I pushed it open to find Ivan. The room was a warm brown colour, and the bed had sheets of gold cotton pulled back revealing wrinkled white sheets. I stared at them both a moment as the gunfire outside subsided for a moment. Ivan wore a simple cloth tunic, stained with pools of red and the splatter of blood, and his arms held gray bodies close to his chest. “Help me.” He asked, tears streaming down his face.
I heard the door close but did not turn as deep rumblings resounded through the room. “Alexei!” Ivan screamed, as the bodies he held, which had been still, writhed in the throes of death. From under the bed, another dragged itself forth, its face obscured in shadow. Ivan let out one last, piercing scream as the bed erupted in fire, and the flames danced up the walls, across the ceiling, and to the door.
I stood motionless, watching as in moments, the entire room was engulfed in fire. The ashen figures of Ivan and the dead soon slipped into the wind and the room filled with smoke.
It was then that she appeared. As the fog cleared, I was in the hallway, standing before the shattered window as she walked across air to reach me, the fighting and gunfire silent behind me. I looked at her as I always had done. Her striking eyes, and her glimmering hair catching the sun as they used to. Her long, black dress flowed around her in the wind as she reached the window and stepped through the shattered glass. I moved my hand to her face, and she held it tight against her cheek.
Katja, the wife of Alexei Tataryn.
“I’ve missed you, Katja. I’ve missed you so much.” My heart stung as she held it tight and closed her eyes, a tear running down from her face.
We stood together in the street, a gentle rain falling on us and the battlefield as she held my hand. “Alexei, why did you do it?” she asked, tears turning to blood as they ran down from her face.
“Why did you let me die?” she screamed as she opened her eyes. I did not answer, for I could speak. In her eyes I saw the explosion, the mushroom cloud rising behind me, and casting down all that laid in its path. I could do nothing but stand in horror as the destruction neared us.
“Katja, I” was all I could say, as the howling inferno cast me from my slumber.
Slight problem with the contest and posting, I just realized that I will not be at any sort of computer between March 11 to March 22nd as I am going to Europe to visit numerous Holocaust and World War II sites in Germany, Poland, Czech Republic and also Kaliningrad in Russia. So this is a notice to readers that I will not be able to post then, I will send the contest runner, whom I forget the name of, a PM to talk about this, but I will try to get in another update this week before I go.
I stood in the hallway as it was blown apart. Gunfire, explosions, screaming everywhere. Shrapnel and rubble flew off of buildings down the street, as the glass window down the hall shattered into a thousand pieces, striking the floor and jumping from it like dancers in a ballet. Men with guns were everywhere. Not soldiers. These men had no uniforms. Nothing to distinguish them, merely a man with blurred face and bloody hands squeezing the trigger at one another.
Unfazed, I walked forward, dressed in my suit. The one I always wore when we went to dinner. The one that she liked the most. It was my favourite too, I remember. The screaming of the hollow men filled the hall as they rushed from the windows and pillars on either side of me. Bullets careened off of them, striking the floor and walls, one piercing the leg of a man.
Chipped marble and shattered concrete littered the ground, crushed under each step I took. The dirt from the fighting merely slipped from my shoes and clothes.
“Alexei!” I heard someone call in a muffled voice. On my left, there was a side room, with walls of white, a bed and light across from me. Romov was there, younger and not bearded.
A younger Romov.
“I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He said to me, turning to a woman beside him. “This is Jetta. Jetta, this is Alexei. Would you like to join us for dinner?” he asked me. The girl had light brown eyes, and hair that ran to her shoulders. Her eyes rose from the floor and her naked body, a smile flickering across her face, the smile of a young woman, filled with life and excitement, eager for adventure.
Even if I wanted too, I kept walking. Romov smiled and turned from me, wrapping his arm around the girl. On my next step, an explosion tore through the wall before them, engulfing them as time slowed for me. As the fire and smoke cleared, there was nothing but soldiers huddling under cover, and firing at an enemy hidden amongst a concrete jungle across a littered and scared road.
The gentle, black marble of the wall soon enveloped the image as I walked on.
“Alexei!” I heard again. On my right, as men looked and fired through broken glass at fallen structures, I found myself staring at a door along the windowed hall. I did not question the layout of the door, flanked by windows that betrayed a nothingness behind it.
The door, I soon discovered, was ajar, and I pushed it open to find Ivan. The room was a warm brown colour, and the bed had sheets of gold cotton pulled back revealing wrinkled white sheets. I stared at them both a moment as the gunfire outside subsided for a moment. Ivan wore a simple cloth tunic, stained with pools of red and the splatter of blood, and his arms held gray bodies close to his chest. “Help me.” He asked, tears streaming down his face.
I heard the door close but did not turn as deep rumblings resounded through the room. “Alexei!” Ivan screamed, as the bodies he held, which had been still, writhed in the throes of death. From under the bed, another dragged itself forth, its face obscured in shadow. Ivan let out one last, piercing scream as the bed erupted in fire, and the flames danced up the walls, across the ceiling, and to the door.
I stood motionless, watching as in moments, the entire room was engulfed in fire. The ashen figures of Ivan and the dead soon slipped into the wind and the room filled with smoke.
It was then that she appeared. As the fog cleared, I was in the hallway, standing before the shattered window as she walked across air to reach me, the fighting and gunfire silent behind me. I looked at her as I always had done. Her striking eyes, and her glimmering hair catching the sun as they used to. Her long, black dress flowed around her in the wind as she reached the window and stepped through the shattered glass. I moved my hand to her face, and she held it tight against her cheek.
Katja, the wife of Alexei Tataryn.
“I’ve missed you, Katja. I’ve missed you so much.” My heart stung as she held it tight and closed her eyes, a tear running down from her face.
We stood together in the street, a gentle rain falling on us and the battlefield as she held my hand. “Alexei, why did you do it?” she asked, tears turning to blood as they ran down from her face.
“Why did you let me die?” she screamed as she opened her eyes. I did not answer, for I could speak. In her eyes I saw the explosion, the mushroom cloud rising behind me, and casting down all that laid in its path. I could do nothing but stand in horror as the destruction neared us.
“Katja, I” was all I could say, as the howling inferno cast me from my slumber.
***
Slight problem with the contest and posting, I just realized that I will not be at any sort of computer between March 11 to March 22nd as I am going to Europe to visit numerous Holocaust and World War II sites in Germany, Poland, Czech Republic and also Kaliningrad in Russia. So this is a notice to readers that I will not be able to post then, I will send the contest runner, whom I forget the name of, a PM to talk about this, but I will try to get in another update this week before I go.
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***
I have spoken with Tekcor and he has exempted me from the rule to post once every week minimum for the duration of my holiday from March 11th to March 22nd. That said, I will still try to update as often as I could.
On another note, I have noted a drop in comments lately. Any sort of criticism, questions, comments, or concerns are much appreciated and, as many of you know, comments are an author's lifeblood. Please guys, let me know what you think, and what I could improve on.
***
I have spoken with Tekcor and he has exempted me from the rule to post once every week minimum for the duration of my holiday from March 11th to March 22nd. That said, I will still try to update as often as I could.
On another note, I have noted a drop in comments lately. Any sort of criticism, questions, comments, or concerns are much appreciated and, as many of you know, comments are an author's lifeblood. Please guys, let me know what you think, and what I could improve on.
***
Have a good holiday, I just havent had anything to post here is all.
But that is a pretty messed up dream/update
But that is a pretty messed up dream/update
A bit confusing dream sequence, but I guess that's consequence of dreamer's real life stress and worries (war, lost love...).
Have a good holidays.
Have a good holidays.