Rise and Fall

[cbraund]

Rise and Fall

Britain and America stand side by side in a new war - the war on terror. Since September 11th 2001, they have invaded Afghanistan and Iraq in order to remove the bases and finances that help terrorists so much.

But one target is much more important. And so is stopping him getting a much more important weapon. But even then the war may not be over…

* * * * *

Captain Nick Windsor of the SAS watched from the undergrowth as the Russian mafia gangsters talked calmly with the disguised terrorist and his cronies.

Osama Bin Laden, finally tracked down to a remote Russian forest near Novgorod.

He had shaved his beard off, and wore his hair short - he looked just like any other good Muslim businessman in his suit - but the aura of hatred still hung around him, reflected mostly in his eyes, which Nick could see through his binoculars. He could see Osama hated the Russian capitalists, but had to meet them himself since for such a valuable item, only his presence would satisfy the Russians.

It definitely seemed that Osama was putting up with these lowly capitalists to get to the bigger fish - which this prize would allow him to do - big time.

And there it was. Nick, caught up in his thoughts of hatred towards Osama shuddered as it came into view. The rumours were true. Russia had created a suitcase nuclear bomb as a weapon against the West just before it collapsed. The story was just one prototype was ever made, and this was it.

Now it was time to go. He signalled to the trooper next to him and they knelt, brought their weapons to their shoulders and looked down the sights. Nick clicked his throat mike twice, and knew that now the two SAS men on the other side of the clearing would be getting into the same positions.

Nick lined up the sight with Osama’s head, and fired.

The terrorist leader just stood there for a few seconds after blood and brains burst out the other side of his head. Then he crumpled to the floor, never again to terrorise the world.

The other troopers were firing. The gangster holding the suitcase fell with a bullet in his heart, and so did men around him. One terrorist ran for the suitcase, and Nick fired, catching him in his leg. The man stumbled to get back up, as Nick took the opportunity to aim steadily at his head. One more shot, and the terrorist didn’t get up again.

Then the troopers burst into the open, switching their weapons to full auto, and filling the clearing with a hail of bullets. Some of the Russian gangsters tried to run back to their bullet proof limo, but just like the terrorist one, the driver was an agent for the British Secret Service, and locked the doors.

It was all over in a matter of minutes. Nick surveyed the scene, satisfied, until he realised something was seriously wrong.

The suitcase had gone.

* * * * *

More to come soon! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and comments are appreciated.

Nemesis

[Paddy]

Well done, great opening.

Hope you write more soon.

[Metaliturtle]

cbraund is even back, cool!

[vovan]

Lookin' good cbraund. You got me eagerly waiting for more.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Me too

[cbraund]

Queen Elizabeth II listened to the reports coming in from the Secret Service chiefs. Before even the Prime Minister, she was the first to learn of intelligence failures and successes, and was the only person in the country to be told everything by all the intelligence services - not even the Prime Minister or the Director of one of the Services had as much information as she did.

“It must be tracked down immediately. If that nuclear weapon is used, it could destroy New York and bring about a world economic collapse, or could destroy Washington DC and all of America’s government. If used here, it could destroy our historic capital, and our government, and send Britain into anarchy.” Elizabeth spoke urgently, knowing that Britain would survive, despite what she said, due to the fact that all the Royals were never together, and that would mean that even if she died, one Royal would ascend the throne and have the authority to hold Britain together. In fact, she would make sure all the Royals were never in one place together.

“We don’t know which side took it. If it’s the Russian Mafia - alls well and good, they’ll hold onto it until they can sell it again, and our sources will let us know and we can capture it. But if it was Al Qaeda got hold of it, we have no idea where it’s gone or where it is going. We know that the suitcase it is in is actually part of the device, so they can’t remove that, so we will be on the lookout for such cases in airports, ports and the Channel Tunnel entrances, since it is pretty distinctive, being made completely of aluminium, and being bigger than a briefcase but smaller than a normal suitcase.” The Director of MI6 replied.

“And if we didn’t find it?” Her Majesty asked.

“Then the attack would dwarf September 11th.”

* * * * *

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain tried on her state crown and paced her bedroom for a while before finally going to bed. Tomorrow was the state opening of Parliament, and she had to wear the crown, which was quite heavy.

She slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of happier times, and completely forgetting the suitcase nuke, that incident having been many months ago, and the nuke having not been found. Most now assumed the Russian Mafia still had it.

Her Majesty passed away peacefully a couple of hours later.

* * * * *

Just a small update today, hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading, and comments are appreciated.

Thanks for the comments already btw!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[Paddy]

well from a Dwarfs perspective, I am enjoying this.

[SKILORD]

You've done better in the past chris.

But its still damn good.

[cbraund]

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s reign had been the longest in the age of global communications, and her funeral was the largest in Britain’s living memory.

President George Bush had survived an assassination attempt the day that the Queen died, and the Secret Service men had sent him flying to escape the bullet. He had banged his head and received concussion, and was unable to fly. **** Cheney, Vice President, instead represented the US at the funeral, while Donald Rumsfeld stayed in the USA covering some of the President’s schedule.

The entire Parliament turned out to say farewell to the Queen at a Westminster Abbey service, as did all the Royal Family.

* * * * *

Nick Windsor had sighed with relief when the assignment came through. Intelligence had come through that the suitcase nuke was in a derelict house in Moscow, not yet moved by the terrorists, but due to be moved tomorrow morning, so they had to go in tonight.

Now he was looking at that house through his binoculars, only a few minutes before they would be entering. It was dark enough now, and he checked the night vision goggles he would probably need, knowing that the house would likely have no electricity.

Instead of the usual SAS entry, clearing rooms with flashbangs and then assaulting it and killing everyone inside, this attack would have to be quiet right up to the last point to make sure that the terrorists didn’t set off the nuke.

Nick slowly led the team round the back of the big pre-Soviet Union house. The garden was overgrown and the wooden fence rotted, so they were able to slip into the shadows near the back door without being seen.

They were inside two minutes later, with the old lock proving no problem for Sergeant Adams and his lock-picking kit. They barred the door shut to make sure no one came in behind them.

It was deathly quiet inside, and Nick saw no movement through his goggles. He hated night sight, but it would give him a big advantage over anyone in this godforsaken place.

He crept quietly through the kitchen, into a hall, where there were two doorways. One door was shut, at the end of the hall; leading into what he guessed was the living room, and the other was an open doorway leading into a dining room with a door to the living room - which was also shut.

Nick signalled to Perkins, one of the two troopers on this mission, to come with him to the end of the hallway, and for Adams and the other trooper, Smith, to take up position at the other door.

Nick took position, ready to charge into the room, with Perkins taking position behind him to give covering fire if needed. One click on the throat mike, and Nick slowly opened the door.

No shots. No glint of a knife. No terrorists willing to give their lives for Allah.

He saw Adams entering at the other end too, and they both scanned the room.

But they found nothing.

They searched all the upstairs rooms too, leaving the big master bedroom till last. It was most likely the place all the terrorists were settled down in sleeping bags, suffering in order to remain undetected - anonymity was good, but not existing by living in a derelict house was the best cover of all.

Two took positions either side of the door, and Nick took position to charge in, with Adams ready to provide covering fire. They would go quietly if they could - hopefully the occupants were still asleep.

Nick slowly pushed the door open, and crept inside, Adams right behind him. Perkins followed Adams, looking in the opposite direction to him. Smith was facing backwards as he walked in, relying on Perkins for a danger warning - his job was to make sure no one crept up on them from behind.

Once again, Nick couldn’t see anything there. He was partially relieved, since no-one enjoyed combat, but he was terrified on the possibilities of where the nuke could be.

Then he saw the glint of something sticking out from beneath the only bed in the room. He led his team over towards it.

It was an aluminium case, bigger than a briefcase but smaller than a suitcase.

* * * * *

The door slammed shut behind them and the light clicked on.

The light was magnified massively by the goggles, and Nick and his team were rendered blind until they removed them, and even then they still had to refocus and get rid of the stars that the light and goggles left in front of their eyes.

Nick saw the man behind the door - the one place they hadn’t yet checked due to their attention being drawn by the case. He glanced around and also saw through his bleary eyes two terrorists come out of the walk in wardrobe and one roll out from the opposite side of the bed.

“Take cover!” he yelled to his still-recovering team.

They dived to find cover, or present smaller targets, but Smith was hit straight in the head before he even moved - the terrorist by the door having had time to line up a perfect shot.

Nick fired back at the terrorist by the door, who had now taken cover like the rest.

Nick knew his team were cornered, but then thought quickly of a plan. He pointed at his night vision goggles, and Adams looked questioningly, before Nick pointed at the light.

Nick shot the light bulb, and the room was plunged into darkness. The SAS men with their night vision goggles now had the advantage, and the terrorists eventually were defeated.

Nick then lifted the case onto the bed, and opened it.

And let out a barrage of curses.

* * * * *

About twenty seconds after Nick’s discovery of the fake case, London was vaporised by a suitcase nuke in a flat only a block from Westminster Abbey - the suitcase nuke having been smuggled into Britain in the back of a lorry with five illegal immigrants.

* * * * *

Cheers for reading, more to come soon, hope you enjoyed it!

Chris

PS: SKILORD, this one starts poorly I admit, but it will get onto levels much better than previous ones, I hope, I just have to set the scene

[SKILORD]

It does tend to skim over these opportunities for action.

Well, I'm game, what've you got up your sleeve?

[Paddy]

hahhhahahahaha thanks for the chuckle....

more please sir ....

[ChrisiusMaximus]

So the smoke,s gone up in smoke then. looking forward to some more

[Paddy]

Hi Cbraund,

hope all is well.

looking forward to some more of this soon

[cbraund]

“We seem to have lost the connection to London there.” Sir Trevor McDonald spoke to the nation as he glanced nervously around at his camera crew. They were filming in Portsmouth, where the Royal Navy were putting a display on after the funeral to honour the passing of Her Majesty, and to welcome the new King Charles III to the throne.

Then it came in over his earpiece.

“We have reports that London has been hit by a nuclear weapon! I repeat, London has been hit by a nuclear weapon!” He spoke excitedly, knowing he was leading the news story of the millennium, but also with fear - many would be dead, even if it was only a small explosion. “Reports indicate that a nuclear device has exploded right near the funeral. If this is true, it would be the biggest disaster ever to befall Britain -
The Royal Family and Parliament may all be dead or at the least critically injured.”

He thought about it, then quickly wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to part of his crew.

It said “Find out who in the line of succession wasn’t at the funeral.”

* * * * *

Nick got off the plane, and walked down the steps. He had a sense of doom - the plane had been diverted from Heathrow to RAF Northolt, with no reason why. His worst fears and been almost completely confirmed by the appearance of not just a couple of RAF planes escorting them in, but an entire Squadron.

The Deputy Director of MI6 was there to meet him.

That wasn’t good. It meant it was damn important, but that the Director was very busy - or dead.

Nick nodded, walked past the two MI6 bodyguards and shook hands with the Deputy Director. He suspected he knew what the other passengers on the plane were about to be told - a suitcase nuke had gone off, Britain was in anarchy, and worst of all to them - Heathrow was destroyed and most of the relatives that were coming to welcome them home would likely be dead. He wanted to get away before they were told - he was SAS, he wasn’t used to emotions.

Nick gestured at the limo, and the Deputy Director nodded. They got in the limo, and pulled away from Northolt.

Nick didn’t look back.

* * * * *

“Your Highness.” The Deputy Director finally spoke.

“London was destroyed, wasn’t it?” Nick asked, the MI6 man’s phrase not registering.

“Yes. All of the Royal Family, including the King, was caught in the blast. Parliament is destroyed, as are all the MPs and Lords that sat in it. Britain is in anarchy, myself and the other senior figures in the system that survived have ordered the Armed Forces to mobilise and protect the realm, the Territorial Army to be prepared to assist the police in martial law, and have already begun investigations into the blast, as well as anti-radiation measures. However, we desperately need legality and authority - we need a government. But since a democratic government will take a long time to form once more, and would be useless at passing laws quickly enough to deal with this crisis, myself and the Emergency Council as we are calling it have decided for now to support the new King in ruling alone for the foreseeable future.”

“Who is the King?”

“We’ve studied the line of succession. After the direct Royal Family, not that many after that really know if they’re in the line of succession, or if they are, how far they are up it. But we’ve studied it, and it is you, Your Highness.”

Nick stared at the Director, and then slumped down in his seat.

* * * * *

Thanks for reading, sorry for so long between posts, more to come soon and comments appreciated!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice twist looking forward to more

[cbraund]

The reporters were gathered outside Windsor Castle, desperate for a glance of the new King. Rumours had already been circulated that a military man had been away on operations during the blast, and was the highest surviving member in the line of succession. His name was Nicholas Windsor - the name of the Royal Family, and that meant he would be accepted as King without any question. It also showed he was a direct descendent.

Even more wild rumours were circulating that he was in the SAS, and actually so successful as an NCO (non-commissioned officer, highest being Sergeant Major), that he had been promoted to officer - most officers in the SAS were drafted in from other units, having undergone the usual SAS training, and were changed every three or so years to prevent them knowing too much. Only the NCOs and the troopers were kept - an experienced NCO was depended on much more than an officer in the SAS - officers were almost there just to keep an eye on things.

All of Britain were still mourning the loss of London, its people, their relatives and the Royal Family (although not so many missed the politicians), but most were getting excited at the mystery surrounding their new leader.

And so the reporters huddled outside the gates of Windsor Castle. They had heard that it was to be the residence of the King from now on, even after London was rebuilt.

The rain was not letting off, and most had umbrellas, but the rain was coming sideways, carried by the gales. The wind was turning many of their brollies inside out, and some reporters cursed as they tried to right them.

Then it came. The Royal Procession, flanked by helicopters and a flight of Harriers, and led by a huge police escort.

The Royal Limousine had been destroyed by the nuke, so Nick was in the back of a Humvee2 armoured car. As it came to the gates, the reporters desperately stuck their cameras to the window and took pictures, the flashes nearly blinding Nick, but they wouldn’t get much of a picture through the glass - it had been specially tinted to stop such invasions of privacy.

The Hummer raced through the gates, following the police escort, and was followed itself by a long line of more police.

* * * * *

A lone figure emerged through the wind, rain and hail.

A strong figure - he walked with a purpose, as his cape billowed out behind him, pulled by the wind.

The new King, as the public needed to see him - a strong, reassuring person who could sort out the country.

The gates opened dramatically as Nick walked onto the podium that had been erected just outside them.

Flashes lit the night as reporters took the first pictures of King Nicholas, and Nick let them subside before he began - careful to look at the television cameras that were set up in the centre, right in front of him.

“People of Britain, today has been an awful day for our country and the world - today more people were killed at one time than ever before.

“It starts a terrifying precedent for the future, but you need not fear. I will do everything in my power to destroy every enemy of democracy, every enemy of freedom, every enemy of our country!

“The perpetrators of this crime will be found - and they will die a horrible death. Human rights campaigners will quote me on that and call me a war criminal, as they have demonised the President of America for his actions against terrorism. But they can rot for all I care - I will give you, my people, what you want: justice! For how can I be a war criminal, protecting my country by killing the very people who wish to kill all of us?

“We must rebuild, be on our guards, and of course, mourn our dead. My deepest sympathies are with all of you whose families, friends and colleagues died in London and for you to mourn I declare a week of mourning.

“And now, can we have two minutes of silence for the innocent souls who have lost their lives today…”

* * * * *

More to come soon! Comments appreciated, and thanks for reading!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[cbraund]

George W. Bush, President of the United States of America, looked over at Colin Powell with a questioning look.

“So what do you make of the new King of England?” he finally asked.

“I’ve had Tenet and the CIA profile him, but a lot of this is from my personal experience of meeting him…”

“You’ve met him?!” POTUS (the capitals of his title) interrupted.

“Yes. He’s the very man who killed Osama Bin Laden - I met him to congratulate him and debrief him - to make sure for myself that the maniac was really dead.”

“So he’s the very man I was due to meet when I next went over to Britain then?”

“Yeah,” Colin answered.

“I’m really beginning to like this guy.” Bush smiled.

Colin nodded, and then continued to give his description of the new British King.

“He’s an excellent soldier - calm under pressure, ruthless against his enemies but protective of the innocent, and a superb marksman. He has been promoted out of the ranks in the SAS, which is almost unheard of, and is popular with his men.

“As a person, he is funny, caring, quite happy and fearless. However, when is he angry, he is unpredictable and emotional - luckily he has quite a long fuse. As a King, I predict he will do well - he will connect with the people of Britain, be able to make hard decisions, and possibly will even lead the British Army into combat, making him a hero amongst his people.”

“Lead?!”

“Yes, he intends to lead the planned strike by the SAS against the remainder of Al Qaeda in Corfu, and also is planning to hit the Russian Mafia.”

* * * * *

Nick watched as the remaining members of Al Qaeda arrived in Kassiopi Harbour, north Corfu. The big players arrived in armour plated limos with massive escorts - some were also Palestinian terrorist leaders, and all of these players were well known to the Western world - which explained the security. They also believed because of this security that they were invincible.

Others wandered down Kassiopi’s main street down to the harbour front, lonely figures in a holiday resort mostly still closed up for the winter. Finally, others arrived by speedboat, and the biggest leader of them all arrived by helicopter. He was known only by his MI6 codename - Achilles, since he seemed almost invincible, having survived every attempt to kill him without a scratch. He was now the leader of Al Qaeda - a mastermind of September 11th, the attack on the USS Cole, and worst of all, the devastation of London.

The security around him was triple that of any other member of the party. A big yacht was ready to whisk all the members off to a top-secret meeting at sea. It had massive security perimeter thrown up around it, to stop anyone getting close, and there were speedboats that were going to follow it out. Achilles’ helicopter, a Hind Russian-built gunship, was to follow the group and provide air cover and early-warning, while some of the boats carried torpedoes, sonar and anti-submarine warfare equipment.

This was why the best way to hit them was on land.

The evening was beginning to turn into night. They were due to sail at 8pm, and stay out overnight. Their boats had been painted black, and it was suspected the main yacht actually was made of some kind of stealth material - like an American F117. They would be virtually undetectable, and carrying quite a punch.

But the members were only just arriving, would be rushed onto the yacht, and go almost immediately. It was 7.45pm, and they still couldn’t act because not everyone was here - if they went too early, they may cause the alarm to be raised and the ones still coming would turn away.

Nick hated waiting. But he had to. Just a few more minutes, and everyone would be here - he had two troopers whose entire job was counting the arrivals. MI6 had already provided a list of who would be coming.

As soon as they had all arrived, while they were getting aboard, Nick and his men would begin to breach the perimeter, taking out the guards if necessary, and moving quickly and stealthily towards the yacht. As they were aboard and welcoming each other, his team would be outside the yacht, about to storm it. The yacht would already be warmed up, and just as it would begin to move away, his team would be onboard, and beginning the takeover.

It was a rigid timescale. It had to be - one wrong move and the terrorists would never again come together all at once like they had tonight - and the best opportunity ever to destroy the world’s most evil terrorists would slip through his fingers.

The last of the terrorists arrived by armoured convoy. It was time to go.

* * * * *

The two guards stood in the alley that connected a local hotel - Solaris Apartments and its pool - to the harbour front, running alongside the Harbour Bar - a club/bar with a front porch area that was being used as the main command centre for the land security.

They were wearing night-vision goggles, and completely confident in their abilities - reinforced by the fact that another twenty guards waited just around the corner.

There it was - movement at the end of the alley, where it connected to the Solaris car park.

One guard intensified the zoom of his goggles while the other kept a watch around them. They weren’t going to be caught out due to a stray cat moving at the end of a alley, or an intended distraction.

But the zoom revealed a human form.

The guard who had zoomed in quickly zoomed back out and tapped the second guard. The first now knelt down and zoomed in using the scope of his weapon - ready to take out the target as soon as it came back into view.

The second guard stood back, kept a watchful eye down the alley, and reached for his radio to make a quiet report and request back up.

He never got to hit the transmit button.

The second guard felt an arm wrap around his neck and a hand go to his face, smothering his mouth. He went to scream, but the knife plunged into the back of his neck and was twisted before being withdrawn. The effect was immediate - the guard’s body became limp and lifeless, and was slowly let down to the floor by the SAS trooper.

The other guard was still focussing on the threat coming towards him as the same happened to him.

Nick crept down quickly down the alley, followed by the rest of his squad. They had decided to strike at the weak-point of the perimeter, closest to the yacht - and only one breach made the odds of being discovered a lot less. It also allowed the command centre to be taken out - which if done quickly would reduce the chances of the yacht being forewarned to practically zero.

“Now to the command centre, whispered the King to his men.

* * * * *

Thanks for reading, more to come soon!

Sorry it took so long, comments are appreciated.

Chris AKA Nemesis

[Paddy]

Thanks..

[EQandCivfanatic]

eager for more.

[cbraund]

The Command Centre had been wiped out quickly and ruthlessly, and SAS men left to "command" the Al Qaida defences - their true job being to keep up a pretence of normality and to wipe out the remaining guards - the King wanted to make sure no fanatics lived to revive the organisation.

The ultimate aim was to get onboard the yacht, and now that had to be done with speed and stealth - the passengers onboard could know nothing about it until the SAS were in control of the outside of the boat or the helicopter would lower a rope to rescue Achilles.

This had posed the biggest problem to Nick. The yacht was heavily guarded - the tactic used with the previous terrorists of splitting the guards up by distracting one and then taking them both out quickly and replacing them with SAS guards who would then assist in the removal of the next set of guards simply wouldn't work now.

So how could it be done without alerting Achilles, and without being spotted by the boats that constantly spread their searchlights over the port and the yacht?

* * * * *

The guards on board the yacht gripped their weapons harder as they saw the file of soldiers climbing the gangplank to the yacht.

"What is your business here?" demanded one of the pair assigned to guard the entrance, his gun levelled at the leader of the extra unit.

"We have just had reports of Special Boat Squadron members on the island, having arrived in plain clothes through Corfu Airport. This is a seriously worrying development, and therefore Captain Mustafa ordered me to take some of the land force and use it to double the guard here, just in case some of the SBS is to try an assault while we are at sea."

"Let's see your ID, Lieutenant."

The Lieutenant scrabbled in his pocket for his ID, and handed it over to the commander of the guard.

The commander, who the Lieutenant recognised as wearing the badge of a Captain, studied the picture on it carefully against the face under the woollen hat, squinting in the dark.

Finally he nodded, satisfied, and the Lieutenant visually relaxed. He nodded to his men to take positions next to the current guards.

"Okay to double the guard simply by adding one for every one of yours? That was the recommendation by Captain Mustafa," the Lieutenant glanced back at the Captain of the guard, his men already moving to those positions.

"Yes, that's fine. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Mustafa. I take it you are the Captain's nephew?"

The Lieutenant looked up sharply as the Captain said this, but then relaxed again when the Captain's face showed nothing but a smile.

"Yes, it makes it feel strange leaving him at the port. I hope the SBS men don't get to him," the Lieutenant smiled back, knowing for well that the Captain and his real nephew lay dead in the command centre.

"Your Uncle is a good man, dedicated to the cause. Captain Smith by the way," the Captain winked as he shook the Lieutenant's hand, then drew his knife quickly.

He grabbed the guard next to him, as the Lieutenant did the same, and stabbed them quickly before hiding their bodies behind the fence around the top of the deck. It happened with all of the other guards as well - their newly arrived counterparts turning on them without a sound.

The Lieutenant smiled at the British Secret Intelligence Service (often wrongly known as MI6) agent standing next to him, whose only codename was "007".

"We'll get Achilles this time, or I'm the King of England." 007 winked at the Lieutenant.

"No, I am," King Nicholas winked back. They were in control of the yacht, just Achilles didn't know it yet.

Then a gunshot sounded from the stern. One guard had overcome his SAS assassin, and drew his flare gun, shooting a flare high into the cold winter night.

And the guns of the entire fleet and the helicopter turned towards the yacht.

* * * * *

More to come soon, sorry about the delay!

Chris