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EUROPA CABLE NEWS - NEWS NIGHT
DECEMBER 19, 2003
The introductory sequence of Europa Cable News begins with images of European cities flashing across the screen accompanied by the uplifting theme melody. As the segment comes to an end, Céline Delpy appears on screen before the familiar backdrop of an unnamed European skyline. She smiles before addressing the viewers.
“Bonsoir et bienvenue - to News Night."
"Relations between the United States and the United Kingdom are their rockiest in recent years as a state visit to London by US President George Bush was met with criticism and protests. The so-called “special relationship” has been under pressure in Britain due to the political difficulties of supporting the US with regards to Afghanistan. Public opinion in both Britain and the United States is deeply divided over the war. Meanwhile there was no progress during the visit over the two main issues of contention between the two countries - the treatment of British detainees at Guantanamo Bay, and the US tariffs on European steel imports."
“The Norwegian government has continued its protests against Russian actions in the Barents Sea. Viewers will recall the announcement made on December 2 by Norway’s Prime Minister Kjell Magne Bondevik, announcing Norway’s cession of oil exploration in contested waters. The Barents Sea, long a point of contention between Oslo and Moscow, contains significant petrochemical resources. Norwegian officials have claimed that this is the result of Russian naval harassment of Statoil exploration vessels.”
“North Korea has reiterated its commitment to being a nuclear power. In a very publicized exchange Kim Jong Il has declined American offers to dismantle its nuclear weapons program in exchange for food aid as well as oil shipments.”
“In economic news, UK-based Weyland Industries and Japanese company Yutani Corporation have decided to merge, forming Weyland-Yutani. The new entity has said that they shall be rationalizing operations and will now be focusing on military contracts with civilian applications, such as satellites, computers, robotics and shipbuilding. It has been predicted that they shall be the 3rd largest company by market share with the personal computer industry.”
“Finally, we break live to New York, where long time Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi addresses the United Nations:
(Author's Note: Snippets of Gaddafi's speech above are actually taken verbatim from his 2009 speech at the UN. Obviously there's less angry pointless bombast and more of a message in the madness)
DECEMBER 19, 2003
The introductory sequence of Europa Cable News begins with images of European cities flashing across the screen accompanied by the uplifting theme melody. As the segment comes to an end, Céline Delpy appears on screen before the familiar backdrop of an unnamed European skyline. She smiles before addressing the viewers.
“Bonsoir et bienvenue - to News Night."
"Relations between the United States and the United Kingdom are their rockiest in recent years as a state visit to London by US President George Bush was met with criticism and protests. The so-called “special relationship” has been under pressure in Britain due to the political difficulties of supporting the US with regards to Afghanistan. Public opinion in both Britain and the United States is deeply divided over the war. Meanwhile there was no progress during the visit over the two main issues of contention between the two countries - the treatment of British detainees at Guantanamo Bay, and the US tariffs on European steel imports."
“The Norwegian government has continued its protests against Russian actions in the Barents Sea. Viewers will recall the announcement made on December 2 by Norway’s Prime Minister Kjell Magne Bondevik, announcing Norway’s cession of oil exploration in contested waters. The Barents Sea, long a point of contention between Oslo and Moscow, contains significant petrochemical resources. Norwegian officials have claimed that this is the result of Russian naval harassment of Statoil exploration vessels.”
“North Korea has reiterated its commitment to being a nuclear power. In a very publicized exchange Kim Jong Il has declined American offers to dismantle its nuclear weapons program in exchange for food aid as well as oil shipments.”
“In economic news, UK-based Weyland Industries and Japanese company Yutani Corporation have decided to merge, forming Weyland-Yutani. The new entity has said that they shall be rationalizing operations and will now be focusing on military contracts with civilian applications, such as satellites, computers, robotics and shipbuilding. It has been predicted that they shall be the 3rd largest company by market share with the personal computer industry.”
“Finally, we break live to New York, where long time Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi addresses the United Nations:
The President of the United Nations General Assembly (spoken in Arabic): The Assembly will now hear an address by the Leader of the Revolution of the Socialist People’s Libyan Arab Jamahiriya.
Colonel Muammar Al-Qadhafi, Leader of the Revolution of the Socialist People’s Libyan Arab Jamahiriya, was escorted into the General Assembly Hall.
“In the name of the Libyan nation, I would like to greet the members of the General Assembly of the United Nations, and I hope that this meeting will be among the most historic in the history of the world.”
“Let it be made clear to the people of the world the hypocrisy of these so-called great nations, who possess nuclear weapons on the one hand, and deny that very same power to what they deem lesser nations. Well, let it be made clear to you. The days of your monopoly on power are over. Show the world your true colors.”
“This Security Council, claiming to represent the free world, is political feudalism for those who have a permanent seat. It should not be called the Security Council, it should be called the terror council. We are not fools to give the power of veto to great powers so they can use us and treat us as second-class citizens.”
“Let me say that the Libyan people will not be fooled by these half-hearted gestures of goodwill. Where your national interests are in my country giving up the slightest possibility of nuclear arms, my country is better served by maintaining a deterrent. Since there is no guarantee regarding the future intentions and behaviour of other states, it is always prudent to assume the worst-case scenario and be prepared for it and never to let down one’s guard.”
“Through sources which will not be disclosed , we have managed to acquire enough weapons-grade uranium, as well as the necessary technology to continue our peaceful work in building nuclear weapons. We have no plans to cease with developing weapons of mass destruction. We also would like to announce our repudiation of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.”
“This is justice. This is democracy. And then we put an end to the Security Council will be occupied by the countries which one has nuclear weapons, which one has technology.”
“This is terrorism. We cannot have the Security Council and the countries which have the superpowers. This is terrorism in itself.”
“Humanity has to struggle in order to live in peace. The struggle by the Third World and the smaller states, 100 of them in order to live in dignity and in freedom is a continued struggle and it has to continue till the end. Peace and blessings.”
(Author's Note: Snippets of Gaddafi's speech above are actually taken verbatim from his 2009 speech at the UN. Obviously there's less angry pointless bombast and more of a message in the madness)
Last edited:
Indeed. (smirks)
Also, great catch! Goes to show who's been paying attention.
Thank you very much!
subs!
Welcome!
European Directorate for Intelligence
Arsene Spiegel
Frankfurt
December 21, 2003
The imposing grey structure was known to locals as the Konigsbank Tower. Officially the tower’s occupants comprised a diverse array of fields, with banks, scientific research institutions and engineering companies among them. Officially it was one large bank tower in a district of large bank towers. However if one looked a bit closer at this particular bank one would see that most of the tower’s bankers were fitter than most. Or that the security here referred to squads of armed personnel equipped with Kevlar vests and SIG SG 552 assault rifles. While the building’s occupants did manage to maintain something of a facade, any competent intelligence agency would have noticed these niggling details at once. As it is, most people on the street wouldn’t suspect the Konigsbank Tower of being something else. Namely, as being the field headquarters of the Operations Division of the European Directorate of Intelligence.
The black haired man wouldn’t exactly look out of place in a bank either, were it not for his lackadaisical manner or the fact that he had a gun. Arsene Spiegel would never have worked in a bank. Not while there were women to bed and people to shoot. Heading up in the elevator coded specifically for the 94th floor he wondered how normal people could just get on with their lives.
The elevator opened into a sparsely decorated receiving area. Two desks were visible, as well as a large map of Europe covering one of the walls. He walked up to Valiant’s Chief of Staff, Thomas Poirot. Formerly of the Belgian Air Force piloting F-16s, he had been on the receiving end of some Yugoslavian SAMs during Operation Roundup[1], and now protected his boss from similar threats. Short and stocky like most fighter pilots, he was physically unremarkable.
“Ah, good afternoon, Al. Hope you’re ready. Seems to be important.”
“Hello, Thomas. Any idea why I was called in?”
“Some, my friend, some. What do you think, Chloe?” The Chief of Staff turns to Valiant’s private secretary, sharing the anteroom with him.
Tall, with long silvery blonde hair, Chloe Villette had an air of grace and breathtaking beauty which has caught the eye of many an agent in the EDI. “A lot has been going on. I’m seeing China, the Middle East. Maybe Africa.”
“Well, anyway, here’s my Helsinki report. That makes it three these past few weeks hasn’t it?” Spiegel hands over a black folder.
“Indeed. Perhaps more people resent their fellow Europeans than we thought. I personally would find working for the Americans, or worse, the Russians, to be at best distasteful”. Walking over to his desk, the Chief of Staff drops the folder. He then presses a switch and leans over toward the intercom on his desk.
“Yes?”, asked a quiet voice
“Spike is here for you, sir,” referring to Spiegel’s in-house codename.
A pause.
“Send him in.”
“Thanks, Thomas. I’ll head in.” said Spiegel, walking through the leather studded double doors leading into Valiant’s office. A contrast to the spartan atmosphere of the outer room, Valiant’s office was luxurious if impersonal. Grey wool carpeting, the furniture was French oak and Spanish leather and a faux fireplace could be seen which was made of Italian marble. Valiant himself was at his desk, sitting in a leather desk chair, looking over documents. Elsewhere in the room was a wall-mounted bookshelf and assorted bottles of alcohol behind his desk of European walnut.
Valiant, the head of operations for the EDI, was known to very few as Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McCarthy. Formerly with Irish Intelligence, he had served in Dublin with the Irish Rangers during the Troubles. He looks up as he sees Spiegel enter and motions to a chair.
“You’ve been doing well these past few weeks. Sorry to call you back in so soon but we’ve received an interesting call. What do you know about the Istanbul bombings?”
“Only what I’ve read in the newspapers as well as the intel we got from the MIT[2]. Four truck bombs, 74 suspects. The Turks think that they couldn’t have pulled it off without some help.”
“Good. Well, Spike, it seems that the Turks were right. Of those people they’ve arrested, they have three with possible ties to larger organizations: Two Syrians, Loai al-Saqa and Hamid Obysi, and a Turk, Harun Ilhan. All we have on them are in here,” handing Spiegel a thick folder with files on the three.
“I’m sending you to Istanbul. Liaise with Turkish Intelligence and find out who’s backing them up. In this day and age, nobody and everybody could be helping these thugs.”
“Sir, why bother sending me at all? Isn’t this a long ways off our usual business?”
“Well, the Turks gave us a name: Pyramid Group. You know it?” his eyes narrowed.
“Multinational out of Dubai. Word is that it’s a front company for certain people to hire others for some “violent extremism”. I was under the impression that they were always able to stay squeaky clean.”
“Not this time. Go to Istanbul and see if the captives are messing with us. If it’s true, I want you to look into Pyramid.”
“You’re booked for a flight in the morning. Good luck Spike.”
NOTES:
[1] An operation which pretty much is responsible for the current state of affairs. I hope to expand on it in the future.
[2] Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı or Turkey's National Intelligence Organization
Arsene Spiegel
Frankfurt
December 21, 2003
The imposing grey structure was known to locals as the Konigsbank Tower. Officially the tower’s occupants comprised a diverse array of fields, with banks, scientific research institutions and engineering companies among them. Officially it was one large bank tower in a district of large bank towers. However if one looked a bit closer at this particular bank one would see that most of the tower’s bankers were fitter than most. Or that the security here referred to squads of armed personnel equipped with Kevlar vests and SIG SG 552 assault rifles. While the building’s occupants did manage to maintain something of a facade, any competent intelligence agency would have noticed these niggling details at once. As it is, most people on the street wouldn’t suspect the Konigsbank Tower of being something else. Namely, as being the field headquarters of the Operations Division of the European Directorate of Intelligence.
The black haired man wouldn’t exactly look out of place in a bank either, were it not for his lackadaisical manner or the fact that he had a gun. Arsene Spiegel would never have worked in a bank. Not while there were women to bed and people to shoot. Heading up in the elevator coded specifically for the 94th floor he wondered how normal people could just get on with their lives.
The elevator opened into a sparsely decorated receiving area. Two desks were visible, as well as a large map of Europe covering one of the walls. He walked up to Valiant’s Chief of Staff, Thomas Poirot. Formerly of the Belgian Air Force piloting F-16s, he had been on the receiving end of some Yugoslavian SAMs during Operation Roundup[1], and now protected his boss from similar threats. Short and stocky like most fighter pilots, he was physically unremarkable.
“Ah, good afternoon, Al. Hope you’re ready. Seems to be important.”
“Hello, Thomas. Any idea why I was called in?”
“Some, my friend, some. What do you think, Chloe?” The Chief of Staff turns to Valiant’s private secretary, sharing the anteroom with him.
Tall, with long silvery blonde hair, Chloe Villette had an air of grace and breathtaking beauty which has caught the eye of many an agent in the EDI. “A lot has been going on. I’m seeing China, the Middle East. Maybe Africa.”
“Well, anyway, here’s my Helsinki report. That makes it three these past few weeks hasn’t it?” Spiegel hands over a black folder.
“Indeed. Perhaps more people resent their fellow Europeans than we thought. I personally would find working for the Americans, or worse, the Russians, to be at best distasteful”. Walking over to his desk, the Chief of Staff drops the folder. He then presses a switch and leans over toward the intercom on his desk.
“Yes?”, asked a quiet voice
“Spike is here for you, sir,” referring to Spiegel’s in-house codename.
A pause.
“Send him in.”
“Thanks, Thomas. I’ll head in.” said Spiegel, walking through the leather studded double doors leading into Valiant’s office. A contrast to the spartan atmosphere of the outer room, Valiant’s office was luxurious if impersonal. Grey wool carpeting, the furniture was French oak and Spanish leather and a faux fireplace could be seen which was made of Italian marble. Valiant himself was at his desk, sitting in a leather desk chair, looking over documents. Elsewhere in the room was a wall-mounted bookshelf and assorted bottles of alcohol behind his desk of European walnut.
Valiant, the head of operations for the EDI, was known to very few as Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McCarthy. Formerly with Irish Intelligence, he had served in Dublin with the Irish Rangers during the Troubles. He looks up as he sees Spiegel enter and motions to a chair.
“You’ve been doing well these past few weeks. Sorry to call you back in so soon but we’ve received an interesting call. What do you know about the Istanbul bombings?”
“Only what I’ve read in the newspapers as well as the intel we got from the MIT[2]. Four truck bombs, 74 suspects. The Turks think that they couldn’t have pulled it off without some help.”
“Good. Well, Spike, it seems that the Turks were right. Of those people they’ve arrested, they have three with possible ties to larger organizations: Two Syrians, Loai al-Saqa and Hamid Obysi, and a Turk, Harun Ilhan. All we have on them are in here,” handing Spiegel a thick folder with files on the three.
“I’m sending you to Istanbul. Liaise with Turkish Intelligence and find out who’s backing them up. In this day and age, nobody and everybody could be helping these thugs.”
“Sir, why bother sending me at all? Isn’t this a long ways off our usual business?”
“Well, the Turks gave us a name: Pyramid Group. You know it?” his eyes narrowed.
“Multinational out of Dubai. Word is that it’s a front company for certain people to hire others for some “violent extremism”. I was under the impression that they were always able to stay squeaky clean.”
“Not this time. Go to Istanbul and see if the captives are messing with us. If it’s true, I want you to look into Pyramid.”
“You’re booked for a flight in the morning. Good luck Spike.”
NOTES:
[1] An operation which pretty much is responsible for the current state of affairs. I hope to expand on it in the future.
[2] Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı or Turkey's National Intelligence Organization
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European Directorate for Intelligence
Arsene Spiegel
Istanbul
December 24, 2003
The trip to Istanbul had, fortunately, not been a wasted one. While the captured terrorists didn’t divulge who they were working for (they most likely never actually knew), they did say where they met their contact regularly, namely the apartment in Kadirga Limani he was now looking at. Crossing the street, he ended up at the door of the apartment building. Turning the knob, he was surprised to see the door unlocked.
As he approaches the wooden door to 105 he takes out his lockpick kit. Pretending to be nothing but a man rummaging for his keys, he glances around before seeing that it was all clear. He turned his attention back to the task at hand. His fingers worked smoothly and efficiently, turning the tools in his hands with precision. A bead of sweat started to form on his brow which was furrowed in concentration. He hears a click, indicating an unlocked door.
The dusty little Istanbul apartment shows no sign of life. An old wooden drawer, a hanging light fixture. Scanning the apartment he checks for most of the typical places someone would hide anything important. Obviously not anywhere with easy access. He checks for moved furniture, scuffs on the walls, generally anything out of place.
Suddenly there's the sound of a key being moved in the lock. Quickly finding a slip, he manages to stay out of sight within one of the other rooms. A large swarthy man enters, carrying a manila folder and a laptop. Thankfully the apartment's walls were relatively thin, allowing him to hear the conversation enfold. It seemed like Meathead was reporting to someone.
Cracking the door open just a little bit wider, he could see Meathead bent over a laptop, video-conferencing with someone.
“I hear the mission was a success, then,” the man on the screen said with an edge. His voice was distorted.
“Yes, sir. Targets have been eliminated. I regret to inform you of the loss of the operatives-” said the bearded man matter-of-factly. He spoke with an English accent, surprisingly enough.
“You're mistaken. My sources within the Turkish government inform me that the man you sent to take out our "contractor" was intercepted by Turkish intelligence. You actually thought you could keep this from me? The Death Watch is more pervasive than you believe, Three.” The man on the screen who apparently was known as One scoffed.
Death Watch? Spike made a mental note to check this out.
“Now, explain to me then why I should let you leave Istanbul and return to The Crypt, now that you’re quite possibly on the radars of every major intelligence agency in the world.” One boomed.
There was a moment of silence.
“Deal with the scum in Turkish custody and then tie up the loose end in Dubai. We can’t have anyone sniffing around Project Destiny. Then report back to the Crypt.”
“Of course,” giving a bow as One’s face winked off the computer.
As soon as the computer fell silent he was knocked out by a blow from what he would later see was a Jericho 941.
As the large man came to, he felt his hands and feet bound, and he was in the very chair he had been sitting in earlier. Across from him, he saw a white man in a black suit with shaggy black hair, waving a large pistol at him.
"Hey, buddy. Look, I need some information. First off, who are you?” he began, in a casual, almost conversational tone.
The large man stayed silent.
“WHO ARE YOU?!”, he yelled, his hands slamming against the wooden table. Pausing a bit, he says, “Huh, works for Jack Bauer.”
Continuing, he says “Here's how it's going to go down. I will hit you until you tell me what I want to know. Let's start with some easier questions: who are you?"
A string of Pashtun, Tajik and Urdu cursewords erupted.
"It would really be simplest if you tell me what I want to know. Otherwise I must hand you over to Federal Security, or worse. Not a pleasant bunch. They… do things… to people."
He could swear he saw the man’s pupils contract for just a moment. “Look, I can’t tell you anything. They’d kill me.”
“Well, look, it’s still good that you talked. Know why? Because one way I could have taken you to the European embassy is I shove you into a very small trunk I procured just for this occasion, I turn on Nickelback’s new album and I drive through the parts of town with the densest concentration of cobblestones.”
As the prisoner’s eyes widened in fear, he heard the door being knocked down and the boom of a grenade launcher sending a projectile into the room.
Standing up and knocking the prisoner over, he yelled “DOWN!”
As the stun gas wore off on him he struggled to stand up. Staggering he managed to prop himself up on the wooden table. e started to see four men in black. They were wearing gas masks, dark urban-colored fatigue pants, all-black combat boots, tactical shirts and vests and were using AN-94 assault rifles. On the back of their vests he could see red-white-blue patches. Russians!
However this didn’t compare to the other figure in the room. He was facing a stunning redhead, her exquisite figure clad in a tight leather catsuit, black gloves and leather boots. Her face wore its usual sardonic expression. He could see that she had two pistols pointed at him. One was her MP-443 Grach, the other was his Jericho 941.
“Well, well, well. Spiegel” she spat.
“Yelena”, he managed to say. Yelena Belova was Spiegel’s old flame and current operative of the FSB.
“Been a long time since Minsk, hasn’t it?”
Speaking in Russian, she motions to the prisoner Spiegel had bound and says “Bring him to the chopper.”
Spiegel began to protest “Wait, what the hell are you doing? It’s my prisoner!”
The men behind her started to raise their weapons. She motions them to stand at ease.
“No. Unless you came with backup which I doubt, since you’re still you, then this troubled young man belongs to me.”
Talking to the prisoner, Spike says almost wistfully, “You should have talked to me earlier. Maybe then you could be going to a yacht in the Greek Isles instead of a shitbox in Siberia.”
Yelena shakes her head. “That’s not nice”, she says with a smirk.
“Why do you even want him, anyway?”
“Let’s just say that he knows someone who has what we want.”
“Leave us.” she orders her commandos.
As they exit the room, she hears the door closing shut. She returns his gun to him, which he holsters. Then, all pretense of being hostile gone, she launches herself at Spiegel. He engaged her in a long passionate kiss and when he broke it he was engaged in yet another. Their two bodies intertwined as they took pleasure in each other’s company. Vaguely, he remembers how he’s tasted this particular lipstick before but he can’t remember when.
“How fortuitous for me to run into you. God we haven’t done this since-”
“Bratislava. How could I forget?” she breathed
“You know you could just go west.” Spiegel said.
“And you know I can’t.” Belova replied. As the moment passed, she sighed. “These are the kind of people we are. You wouldn’t love me if there wasn’t any chance of me kicking your ass. Besides relationships are murder for people like us.”
Getting up, she started to exit the room. “Goodbye, Spike”, she says with irony. Outside of EDI, she was one of the few people who knew of that particular name.
Returning the favor, he says “Let’s say au revoir, Duchess. I have the strangest feeling we’ll run into each other again.”
Shaking his head, he begins to feel light-headed. Falling back down, he manages to say “Son of a -”, as he sees Belova enter the room with her Spetznaz, combing the room.
Coming to, he sees that the room has been thoroughly tossed, all traces of Meathead and his laptop gone. Great, Belgrade all over again. Spiegel griped to himself. Thankfully he had the foresight to stow away the envelope. Taking it out, he slices the flap with the knife near his thigh.
He could only grin. That moron had given him everything he needed. His new identification, his new travel documents and the records of an appointment with their contacts at Pyramid.
A few hours later he was sitting in his hotel room overlooking the Bosporus. He could see the little celebrations, the fireworks, the general merriment. Taking this one moment where the world wasn’t being shot to hell, he relaxes on the balcony with a hookah and a bottle of Scotch. A jazz album was playing in the background. Thankfully the night was cold but not snowing.
Christmas in Turkey, he thought to himself
Arsene Spiegel
Istanbul
December 24, 2003
The trip to Istanbul had, fortunately, not been a wasted one. While the captured terrorists didn’t divulge who they were working for (they most likely never actually knew), they did say where they met their contact regularly, namely the apartment in Kadirga Limani he was now looking at. Crossing the street, he ended up at the door of the apartment building. Turning the knob, he was surprised to see the door unlocked.
As he approaches the wooden door to 105 he takes out his lockpick kit. Pretending to be nothing but a man rummaging for his keys, he glances around before seeing that it was all clear. He turned his attention back to the task at hand. His fingers worked smoothly and efficiently, turning the tools in his hands with precision. A bead of sweat started to form on his brow which was furrowed in concentration. He hears a click, indicating an unlocked door.
The dusty little Istanbul apartment shows no sign of life. An old wooden drawer, a hanging light fixture. Scanning the apartment he checks for most of the typical places someone would hide anything important. Obviously not anywhere with easy access. He checks for moved furniture, scuffs on the walls, generally anything out of place.
Suddenly there's the sound of a key being moved in the lock. Quickly finding a slip, he manages to stay out of sight within one of the other rooms. A large swarthy man enters, carrying a manila folder and a laptop. Thankfully the apartment's walls were relatively thin, allowing him to hear the conversation enfold. It seemed like Meathead was reporting to someone.
Cracking the door open just a little bit wider, he could see Meathead bent over a laptop, video-conferencing with someone.
“I hear the mission was a success, then,” the man on the screen said with an edge. His voice was distorted.
“Yes, sir. Targets have been eliminated. I regret to inform you of the loss of the operatives-” said the bearded man matter-of-factly. He spoke with an English accent, surprisingly enough.
“You're mistaken. My sources within the Turkish government inform me that the man you sent to take out our "contractor" was intercepted by Turkish intelligence. You actually thought you could keep this from me? The Death Watch is more pervasive than you believe, Three.” The man on the screen who apparently was known as One scoffed.
Death Watch? Spike made a mental note to check this out.
“Now, explain to me then why I should let you leave Istanbul and return to The Crypt, now that you’re quite possibly on the radars of every major intelligence agency in the world.” One boomed.
There was a moment of silence.
“Deal with the scum in Turkish custody and then tie up the loose end in Dubai. We can’t have anyone sniffing around Project Destiny. Then report back to the Crypt.”
“Of course,” giving a bow as One’s face winked off the computer.
As soon as the computer fell silent he was knocked out by a blow from what he would later see was a Jericho 941.
As the large man came to, he felt his hands and feet bound, and he was in the very chair he had been sitting in earlier. Across from him, he saw a white man in a black suit with shaggy black hair, waving a large pistol at him.
"Hey, buddy. Look, I need some information. First off, who are you?” he began, in a casual, almost conversational tone.
The large man stayed silent.
“WHO ARE YOU?!”, he yelled, his hands slamming against the wooden table. Pausing a bit, he says, “Huh, works for Jack Bauer.”
Continuing, he says “Here's how it's going to go down. I will hit you until you tell me what I want to know. Let's start with some easier questions: who are you?"
A string of Pashtun, Tajik and Urdu cursewords erupted.
"It would really be simplest if you tell me what I want to know. Otherwise I must hand you over to Federal Security, or worse. Not a pleasant bunch. They… do things… to people."
He could swear he saw the man’s pupils contract for just a moment. “Look, I can’t tell you anything. They’d kill me.”
“Well, look, it’s still good that you talked. Know why? Because one way I could have taken you to the European embassy is I shove you into a very small trunk I procured just for this occasion, I turn on Nickelback’s new album and I drive through the parts of town with the densest concentration of cobblestones.”
As the prisoner’s eyes widened in fear, he heard the door being knocked down and the boom of a grenade launcher sending a projectile into the room.
Standing up and knocking the prisoner over, he yelled “DOWN!”
As the stun gas wore off on him he struggled to stand up. Staggering he managed to prop himself up on the wooden table. e started to see four men in black. They were wearing gas masks, dark urban-colored fatigue pants, all-black combat boots, tactical shirts and vests and were using AN-94 assault rifles. On the back of their vests he could see red-white-blue patches. Russians!
However this didn’t compare to the other figure in the room. He was facing a stunning redhead, her exquisite figure clad in a tight leather catsuit, black gloves and leather boots. Her face wore its usual sardonic expression. He could see that she had two pistols pointed at him. One was her MP-443 Grach, the other was his Jericho 941.
“Well, well, well. Spiegel” she spat.
“Yelena”, he managed to say. Yelena Belova was Spiegel’s old flame and current operative of the FSB.
“Been a long time since Minsk, hasn’t it?”
Speaking in Russian, she motions to the prisoner Spiegel had bound and says “Bring him to the chopper.”
Spiegel began to protest “Wait, what the hell are you doing? It’s my prisoner!”
The men behind her started to raise their weapons. She motions them to stand at ease.
“No. Unless you came with backup which I doubt, since you’re still you, then this troubled young man belongs to me.”
Talking to the prisoner, Spike says almost wistfully, “You should have talked to me earlier. Maybe then you could be going to a yacht in the Greek Isles instead of a shitbox in Siberia.”
Yelena shakes her head. “That’s not nice”, she says with a smirk.
“Why do you even want him, anyway?”
“Let’s just say that he knows someone who has what we want.”
“Leave us.” she orders her commandos.
As they exit the room, she hears the door closing shut. She returns his gun to him, which he holsters. Then, all pretense of being hostile gone, she launches herself at Spiegel. He engaged her in a long passionate kiss and when he broke it he was engaged in yet another. Their two bodies intertwined as they took pleasure in each other’s company. Vaguely, he remembers how he’s tasted this particular lipstick before but he can’t remember when.
“How fortuitous for me to run into you. God we haven’t done this since-”
“Bratislava. How could I forget?” she breathed
“You know you could just go west.” Spiegel said.
“And you know I can’t.” Belova replied. As the moment passed, she sighed. “These are the kind of people we are. You wouldn’t love me if there wasn’t any chance of me kicking your ass. Besides relationships are murder for people like us.”
Getting up, she started to exit the room. “Goodbye, Spike”, she says with irony. Outside of EDI, she was one of the few people who knew of that particular name.
Returning the favor, he says “Let’s say au revoir, Duchess. I have the strangest feeling we’ll run into each other again.”
Shaking his head, he begins to feel light-headed. Falling back down, he manages to say “Son of a -”, as he sees Belova enter the room with her Spetznaz, combing the room.
Coming to, he sees that the room has been thoroughly tossed, all traces of Meathead and his laptop gone. Great, Belgrade all over again. Spiegel griped to himself. Thankfully he had the foresight to stow away the envelope. Taking it out, he slices the flap with the knife near his thigh.
He could only grin. That moron had given him everything he needed. His new identification, his new travel documents and the records of an appointment with their contacts at Pyramid.
A few hours later he was sitting in his hotel room overlooking the Bosporus. He could see the little celebrations, the fireworks, the general merriment. Taking this one moment where the world wasn’t being shot to hell, he relaxes on the balcony with a hookah and a bottle of Scotch. A jazz album was playing in the background. Thankfully the night was cold but not snowing.
Christmas in Turkey, he thought to himself
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EUROPA CABLE NEWS - NEWS NIGHT
JANUARY 14, 2004
The introductory sequence of Europa Cable News begins with images of European cities flashing across the screen accompanied by the uplifting theme melody. As the segment comes to an end, Céline Delpy appears on screen before the familiar backdrop of an unnamed European skyline. She smiles before addressing the viewers.
“Bonsoir et- welcome to News Night. I’m Celine Delpy.”
“Casualty reports from the Bam earthquake a few weeks ago continue to pour in. His Imperial Majesty Reza Shah II is reported to be flying into Bam tomorrow. He thanks the nations of the world, especially the United States, the United Kingdom and the European Federation for their massive aid.”
“India has announced the purchase of the ex-Soviet ship Admiral Gorshkov, which will be renamed the INS Vikramaditya. The deal, worth 2.35 billion USD, includes funds for the upgrading and refit of the ship, as well as the aircraft and weapons systems.”
“It has been reported that the Asiatic Station of the European Navy will be joined by the Charles de Gaulle and her task force at their homeport in Noumea by the end of the month. The force will then proceed to Singapore for naval exercises in February as part of the month-long Exercise Cerulean Shield. Cerulean Shield is currently the largest naval exercise hosted and administered by the European Navy, with countries expected to participate being Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Taiwan, Japan, South Korea, Australia and New Zealand. The United States, India and other ASEAN nations have been invited.
“The exercise area has been announced to be in the South China Sea and the Gulf of Thailand. Charles de Gaulle and her escorts will be making port visits in Tel Aviv, Djibouti, Mumbai, Singapore, Jakarta, Dili and Darwin. Whether this represents a shift for European interests remains to be seen. When asked about this development, President Gerhardt Schroder said ‘We have a commitment to keep the peace, and we can’t do it alone. It’s simply another way of making friends.’”
“This comes at an interesting time in the Far East as Japanese Coast Guard ships has seized a Chinese fishing vessel and arrested several Chinese nationals attempting to approach the Senkaku Islands. However in a move of magnanimity, they have released the Chinese nationals and deported them back to China. A group of uninhabited islands, it is claimed by Japan, China and Taiwan as they are thought to control oil reserves. This has been the second interdiction by the Japanese Coast Guard since the start of the year.”
“I'm Céline Delpy, this is has been News Night. Jean Girard is coming up next with 'The Strasbourg Report'. Goodnight.” She smiled again.
JANUARY 14, 2004
The introductory sequence of Europa Cable News begins with images of European cities flashing across the screen accompanied by the uplifting theme melody. As the segment comes to an end, Céline Delpy appears on screen before the familiar backdrop of an unnamed European skyline. She smiles before addressing the viewers.
“Bonsoir et- welcome to News Night. I’m Celine Delpy.”
“Casualty reports from the Bam earthquake a few weeks ago continue to pour in. His Imperial Majesty Reza Shah II is reported to be flying into Bam tomorrow. He thanks the nations of the world, especially the United States, the United Kingdom and the European Federation for their massive aid.”
“India has announced the purchase of the ex-Soviet ship Admiral Gorshkov, which will be renamed the INS Vikramaditya. The deal, worth 2.35 billion USD, includes funds for the upgrading and refit of the ship, as well as the aircraft and weapons systems.”
“It has been reported that the Asiatic Station of the European Navy will be joined by the Charles de Gaulle and her task force at their homeport in Noumea by the end of the month. The force will then proceed to Singapore for naval exercises in February as part of the month-long Exercise Cerulean Shield. Cerulean Shield is currently the largest naval exercise hosted and administered by the European Navy, with countries expected to participate being Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Taiwan, Japan, South Korea, Australia and New Zealand. The United States, India and other ASEAN nations have been invited.
“The exercise area has been announced to be in the South China Sea and the Gulf of Thailand. Charles de Gaulle and her escorts will be making port visits in Tel Aviv, Djibouti, Mumbai, Singapore, Jakarta, Dili and Darwin. Whether this represents a shift for European interests remains to be seen. When asked about this development, President Gerhardt Schroder said ‘We have a commitment to keep the peace, and we can’t do it alone. It’s simply another way of making friends.’”
“This comes at an interesting time in the Far East as Japanese Coast Guard ships has seized a Chinese fishing vessel and arrested several Chinese nationals attempting to approach the Senkaku Islands. However in a move of magnanimity, they have released the Chinese nationals and deported them back to China. A group of uninhabited islands, it is claimed by Japan, China and Taiwan as they are thought to control oil reserves. This has been the second interdiction by the Japanese Coast Guard since the start of the year.”
“I'm Céline Delpy, this is has been News Night. Jean Girard is coming up next with 'The Strasbourg Report'. Goodnight.” She smiled again.
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Excellent update. How's your life been lately? I only have rotten pears, but you can have them if you want them .
.
Excellent update. How's your life been lately? I only have rotten pears, but you can have them if you want them
Home with family, waiting for the Lord to rise again. Haha. *takes cover from rotten fruit attack *SPLAT
Thank you and welcome! Yes, pretty much. Pan-European federal government
European Directorate for Intelligence
Arsene Spiegel
Dubai
January 17, 2004
Dubai has changed since he’s last been in the Middle East, oh, three years ago. It used to be nothing but desert and camels. Now just like Las Vegas, all the oil that the Middle Eastern Union was pumping out of the sand was being reinvested by the sheikhs in some real estate, knowing that the oil wasn’t going to last. In the meantime Dubai is becoming the next big money destination in the shade of Marbella and the Azure Coast. Sure there were still camels, but now there were Ferrari 360s with them.
Arsene Spiegel looked down from his hotel room window at the busy streets of Dubai. He had arrived late yesterday and didn’t pay much attention to the view. Working as a covert operative sometimes meant that he didn’t always have a say where he would be staying. Could be a sweaty flophouse in Bangkok, could be the Bridge Suite in the Bahamas. Luckily he had been issued a decent cover this time, a “businessman” looking out for some “interests” in the Cote d’Ivoire.
After he had eaten, showered and dressed he decided to head downstairs. The staff at the Grand Hyatt Dubai greeted him as he made his way toward the silver Aston Martin Vanquish waiting for him by the entrance. The Dubai Towers were only a few minutes away via British sports coupe.
......
It took a few minutes to get his visitor’s pass from the security desk before he was allowed to enter the office building. Pyramid Group was on the 65th floor.
In the elevator he reviewed what information EDI had on Pyramid and its shadowy CEO Zaeed Massani. Private security company formed by Massani from various ex-Stasi, KGB and other disaffected operatives after collapse of Soviet Union in 1991. Large but not notorious, it has made a nice side-income being a broker-of-sorts for people who need problems taken care of. Less well-known are the charges that Massani is using his company as a front to funnel money to terrorist groups.
Zaeed Massani meanwhile had a less than complete dossier. Born in 1965 in Baghdad, not much is known about him until ’87. Committed two murders, caught the attention of KGB who then recruited him as one of their “kites” in the Middle East. Freelance mercenary work in Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Beirut. Obtained a scar on his cheek, Bosnia 1996. Started up Pyramid two years later from contacts he made in the Eastern Bloc who just wanted to be paid. Moved his business from Baghdad to Dubai after the tax breaks were issued. Nowadays he’s willing to work with anyone with money.
Making his way towards the receptionist, he gave his name: “Pierre Melville. I have an appointment with Mr. Massani.”
Apologetic, the receptionist said “Ah, I’m sorry sir but Mr. Massani left early this morning. I’m sure his operations manager, Mr. Kaminsky, would be happy to oblige you. Please have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly”, as she picked up the phone to notify them. He hoped that people will be listening in regarding this change of plans.
As he sat down he noticed the face of the woman sitting next to him. Familiar. It was the face of FSB agent Yelena Belova. He had last seen her in a prisoner’s apartment in Istanbul when she took his prisoner, knocked him out with the substance on her lipstick and stripped the place of nearly all useful information. “Ah, Mr. Melville. Glad to see you again,” she smiled.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Same thing you are. Getting information you can’t get off of laptops.”
They then saw a slender Slavic man approaching the two of them.
“Mr Melville, Ms. Orlova, welcome. I’m Boris Kaminsky. Let’s talk in my office”, he says as he leads them to his office.
“Whatever happens, just follow my lead in there”, she says quietly.
“Well what are you going to be doing in there anyway?” he replies.
“Improvising.”
Kaminsky’s office was large and had a lovely view of the Dubai skyline, as befitting the Number Two man in a large corporation. Three armed men waited in the lobby outside. He started to sit down at his desk. He then turns around to face his guests.
“Mr. Melville-”, he began but was interrupted when a Makarov PM pistol held by Belova was drawn on him.
“Don’t move”, she purred.
“Yelena what the hell is this?” Spike demanded.
“The new plan. Get over here, Kaminsky.”, she said as she motioned for him to get up and go to the high-backed chair in the room. She then proceeds to tie him up with flexi-cuffs and mount a suppressor on her Makarov.
Putting his own Walther P99 on the desk, he whips out the drive he brought for the data dump of Pyramid computers. Turning on the computer, it comes to the password prompt. “I need the password. Ask him.”
Belova then faces him. “The password”, she asks, pointing the Makarov to his kneecaps, “or you’ll have trouble walking. If you live. Kneecaps are oh so painful to heal.”
“Swordfish.”, he growls.
“Is that a joke? It’s never ‘swordfish’!”, Spike notes with amusement even as the computer boots up. “I’m pulling their data. Keep him amused for a few minutes.” He calls out.
As the files were downloaded, he started to feel a sense of unease. It was never this easy. Luckily his exit was only minutes away. He didn’t know about Belova though. What was she thinking, charging him with a pistol? He then heard a knock at the door. He gets his Walther and stands up to check the door but finds the peephole blocked.
“Who are they?” he demanded as pointed the pistol at Kaminsky.
“What the hell am I, a comic book villain? The password was a silent alarm. You won’t make it off this floor, let alone the building, alive.” He smirked in satisfaction.
He could hear the guards outside yelling for them to surrender or open the door or whatever it was mercenaries said these days. He frankly didn’t care. As they started breaking down the heavy door, Spike heard the beep indicating the files were downloaded. He checked his watch. Thirty seconds. If his team doesn’t know the meeting was moved he was screwed.
“I’m in here! I’m bound!” Kaminsky screams in vain. Yelena whips him on the head with her Makarov, saying “How unsporting of you.”
“Yelena, do you have a way out?” Spiegel asks.
“Yes, yours, Spike.”, she says. Spiegel groans.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
She only smirks.
Grabbing the drive, he puts it in his jacket pocket and checks his pistol.
As the door came down, several armed guards came in, armed with submachine guns. A burst of gunfire could be heard in the room as they both dive for cover. Fifteen seconds. He could see it now. He brought his pistol out firing several shots to get them to take cover. As he got up facing the doorway, a couple of guards caught wind of what was happening. Charging under a hail of gunfire, their comrades meanwhile attempted to cover them with gunfire of their own. Spiegel aimed carefully, sending three slugs into the large guards approaching them. He could almost hear the whirring of a helicopter approaching.
“Yelena! Balcony!” he calls out to her.
Making their way toward the balcony, they sought to find cover from the nearing guards. A Bell 206 was streaking toward them, drawing closer to the balcony of the Dubai skyscraper. Drifting closer to the pair, the pilot of the helicopter motions for them to get on.
“So where do we drop her off, sir?” the pilot asks.
“Drop us both off at the hotel.” Spiegel says.
Taking out a laptop and the drive, he copies the contents onto a USB flash drive.
As the helicopter neared the Grand Hyatt, he hands her the flash drive. “Thanks for the help,” he tells her.
“Can’t let you have all the fun. I’ll be around.” She blows him a kiss before disappearing.
Her plan had come off without a hitch, she thought. She had indeed known Spiegel would be there. She knew he would back her up. She knew he would have a ride. It used to be that he was the cowboy and she was the one looking out for him. He’s changed. Well, Spiegel didn’t matter. Did he?
In any case, she hoped her bosses would get off her back regarding Death Watch. With this data, maybe now she could prove it was them that obtained it. All her superiors at FSB could do was shake their fists at the GRU, eyes mad with ambition. It didn’t even occur to them that angry and competent terrorists with uranium was a bad idea. 100 pounds of uranium simply disappearing! She shook her head. How stupid could the GRU be to lose that much fissile material?
*******
Questions, comments, rotten fruit attack?
Arsene Spiegel
Dubai
January 17, 2004
Dubai has changed since he’s last been in the Middle East, oh, three years ago. It used to be nothing but desert and camels. Now just like Las Vegas, all the oil that the Middle Eastern Union was pumping out of the sand was being reinvested by the sheikhs in some real estate, knowing that the oil wasn’t going to last. In the meantime Dubai is becoming the next big money destination in the shade of Marbella and the Azure Coast. Sure there were still camels, but now there were Ferrari 360s with them.
Arsene Spiegel looked down from his hotel room window at the busy streets of Dubai. He had arrived late yesterday and didn’t pay much attention to the view. Working as a covert operative sometimes meant that he didn’t always have a say where he would be staying. Could be a sweaty flophouse in Bangkok, could be the Bridge Suite in the Bahamas. Luckily he had been issued a decent cover this time, a “businessman” looking out for some “interests” in the Cote d’Ivoire.
After he had eaten, showered and dressed he decided to head downstairs. The staff at the Grand Hyatt Dubai greeted him as he made his way toward the silver Aston Martin Vanquish waiting for him by the entrance. The Dubai Towers were only a few minutes away via British sports coupe.
......
It took a few minutes to get his visitor’s pass from the security desk before he was allowed to enter the office building. Pyramid Group was on the 65th floor.
In the elevator he reviewed what information EDI had on Pyramid and its shadowy CEO Zaeed Massani. Private security company formed by Massani from various ex-Stasi, KGB and other disaffected operatives after collapse of Soviet Union in 1991. Large but not notorious, it has made a nice side-income being a broker-of-sorts for people who need problems taken care of. Less well-known are the charges that Massani is using his company as a front to funnel money to terrorist groups.
Zaeed Massani meanwhile had a less than complete dossier. Born in 1965 in Baghdad, not much is known about him until ’87. Committed two murders, caught the attention of KGB who then recruited him as one of their “kites” in the Middle East. Freelance mercenary work in Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Beirut. Obtained a scar on his cheek, Bosnia 1996. Started up Pyramid two years later from contacts he made in the Eastern Bloc who just wanted to be paid. Moved his business from Baghdad to Dubai after the tax breaks were issued. Nowadays he’s willing to work with anyone with money.
Making his way towards the receptionist, he gave his name: “Pierre Melville. I have an appointment with Mr. Massani.”
Apologetic, the receptionist said “Ah, I’m sorry sir but Mr. Massani left early this morning. I’m sure his operations manager, Mr. Kaminsky, would be happy to oblige you. Please have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly”, as she picked up the phone to notify them. He hoped that people will be listening in regarding this change of plans.
As he sat down he noticed the face of the woman sitting next to him. Familiar. It was the face of FSB agent Yelena Belova. He had last seen her in a prisoner’s apartment in Istanbul when she took his prisoner, knocked him out with the substance on her lipstick and stripped the place of nearly all useful information. “Ah, Mr. Melville. Glad to see you again,” she smiled.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Same thing you are. Getting information you can’t get off of laptops.”
They then saw a slender Slavic man approaching the two of them.
“Mr Melville, Ms. Orlova, welcome. I’m Boris Kaminsky. Let’s talk in my office”, he says as he leads them to his office.
“Whatever happens, just follow my lead in there”, she says quietly.
“Well what are you going to be doing in there anyway?” he replies.
“Improvising.”
Kaminsky’s office was large and had a lovely view of the Dubai skyline, as befitting the Number Two man in a large corporation. Three armed men waited in the lobby outside. He started to sit down at his desk. He then turns around to face his guests.
“Mr. Melville-”, he began but was interrupted when a Makarov PM pistol held by Belova was drawn on him.
“Don’t move”, she purred.
“Yelena what the hell is this?” Spike demanded.
“The new plan. Get over here, Kaminsky.”, she said as she motioned for him to get up and go to the high-backed chair in the room. She then proceeds to tie him up with flexi-cuffs and mount a suppressor on her Makarov.
Putting his own Walther P99 on the desk, he whips out the drive he brought for the data dump of Pyramid computers. Turning on the computer, it comes to the password prompt. “I need the password. Ask him.”
Belova then faces him. “The password”, she asks, pointing the Makarov to his kneecaps, “or you’ll have trouble walking. If you live. Kneecaps are oh so painful to heal.”
“Swordfish.”, he growls.
“Is that a joke? It’s never ‘swordfish’!”, Spike notes with amusement even as the computer boots up. “I’m pulling their data. Keep him amused for a few minutes.” He calls out.
As the files were downloaded, he started to feel a sense of unease. It was never this easy. Luckily his exit was only minutes away. He didn’t know about Belova though. What was she thinking, charging him with a pistol? He then heard a knock at the door. He gets his Walther and stands up to check the door but finds the peephole blocked.
“Who are they?” he demanded as pointed the pistol at Kaminsky.
“What the hell am I, a comic book villain? The password was a silent alarm. You won’t make it off this floor, let alone the building, alive.” He smirked in satisfaction.
He could hear the guards outside yelling for them to surrender or open the door or whatever it was mercenaries said these days. He frankly didn’t care. As they started breaking down the heavy door, Spike heard the beep indicating the files were downloaded. He checked his watch. Thirty seconds. If his team doesn’t know the meeting was moved he was screwed.
“I’m in here! I’m bound!” Kaminsky screams in vain. Yelena whips him on the head with her Makarov, saying “How unsporting of you.”
“Yelena, do you have a way out?” Spiegel asks.
“Yes, yours, Spike.”, she says. Spiegel groans.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
She only smirks.
Grabbing the drive, he puts it in his jacket pocket and checks his pistol.
As the door came down, several armed guards came in, armed with submachine guns. A burst of gunfire could be heard in the room as they both dive for cover. Fifteen seconds. He could see it now. He brought his pistol out firing several shots to get them to take cover. As he got up facing the doorway, a couple of guards caught wind of what was happening. Charging under a hail of gunfire, their comrades meanwhile attempted to cover them with gunfire of their own. Spiegel aimed carefully, sending three slugs into the large guards approaching them. He could almost hear the whirring of a helicopter approaching.
“Yelena! Balcony!” he calls out to her.
Making their way toward the balcony, they sought to find cover from the nearing guards. A Bell 206 was streaking toward them, drawing closer to the balcony of the Dubai skyscraper. Drifting closer to the pair, the pilot of the helicopter motions for them to get on.
“So where do we drop her off, sir?” the pilot asks.
“Drop us both off at the hotel.” Spiegel says.
Taking out a laptop and the drive, he copies the contents onto a USB flash drive.
As the helicopter neared the Grand Hyatt, he hands her the flash drive. “Thanks for the help,” he tells her.
“Can’t let you have all the fun. I’ll be around.” She blows him a kiss before disappearing.
Her plan had come off without a hitch, she thought. She had indeed known Spiegel would be there. She knew he would back her up. She knew he would have a ride. It used to be that he was the cowboy and she was the one looking out for him. He’s changed. Well, Spiegel didn’t matter. Did he?
In any case, she hoped her bosses would get off her back regarding Death Watch. With this data, maybe now she could prove it was them that obtained it. All her superiors at FSB could do was shake their fists at the GRU, eyes mad with ambition. It didn’t even occur to them that angry and competent terrorists with uranium was a bad idea. 100 pounds of uranium simply disappearing! She shook her head. How stupid could the GRU be to lose that much fissile material?
*******
Questions, comments, rotten fruit attack?
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*ducks under a table to avoid fruit*
So is England, Turkey, or eastern European countries included in this unified Europe? What exactly is the extent of the European Union in this mod?
So is England, Turkey, or eastern European countries included in this unified Europe? What exactly is the extent of the European Union in this mod?
Keep faith high, the lack of comments is only because this isn't the EU people talk about around here
the lack of comments is only because this isn't the EU people talk about around here
There's an event in MDS where nations have a choice between joining a United EU or stay independent. As of January 2004, the European Federation is composed of Portugal, Spain, Ireland, France, Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Italy, Germany, Austria, Greece, Denmark Finland and Sweden, with the UK, Norway and Switzerland staying out and clinging to independence but friendly. Meanwhile Turkey, Norway and Switzerland have referendums on the way to join or stay neutral. Eastern European countries like Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Malta, Cyprus, Slovenia, Poland, Czech Rep and Slovakia will ratify the treaty (game-wise, be part of the nation) by Summer 2004.
Keep faith high,
You mean, people wouldn't be psyched about a superpower European nation clinging to peace while at the same time duking it out with a resurgent Russia, a USA that's clinging to the status of world leadership and a China that wants to gobble up its neighbors and scrap with everyone else?
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Meanwhile, just to keep people on their toes, the European Federation is (gasp) going to take "proactive measures".
Guesses on the first nation to return to the "family"?
Guesses on the first nation to return to the "family"?