When the world goes MAD...

[cbraund]

Alexei Morshcev smiled as the election results were read out.

The Russian people had voted to be Communist once more, and who could blame them? The democratic morons had ruined Mother Russia!

So now he was the General Secretary.

He had his Politburo planned out, people who were loyal solely to him.

And now America would pay for ruining Russia. He already had huge plans laid out to bring Russia back to her former glory, and then he intended to destroy the Americans.

But first he needed a reason, after all, that's what the damned Westerners always wanted.

****************************************

The Spetsnaz men entered the compound stealthily. They were to rescue the ex-Serbian dictator who resided in this prison, and they silently shot dead the guards.

They stormed into the building, throwing in flashbangs. The need for silence was gone now, as they knew they couldn't remain detected once inside.

They burst in through the door, easily overpowering the blinded men inside, then rushed to the room that they knew the Serbian man was in.

He was rushed outside to a waiting helicopter, and they took off, going low across the countryside towards waiting Serbia.

******************************************

There another Spetsnaz man waited in the bushes.

The President of Serbia was in the house of his bit on the side, as per usual. His bodyguards looked uncomfortable guarding the doors as they heard the screams and moans from upstairs.

Five minutes later the President emerged, drunk. He was being hurried along by his guards, who seemed to be in a hurry now.

Looks like word is out, the Spetsnaz man grinned to himself.

He took aim with the sniper rifle, and waited for the President to stagger towards the car.

One shot later and the President of Serbia was laying dead on the floor, and the Spetsnaz man was making his escape in the confusion.

For now the true President of Serbia was returning.

*******************************************

I met the new POTUS when he called me to the White House to meet him.

He was not a soldier, unlike me, who had once commanded the famous SEALs. I had however, been forced to resign in disgrace. I had committed adultery and my wife had left me, and I had turned to the bottle to get over her. I had been drunk on duty, and worse, news of my reputation had got around.

Everyone knew I was a hard guy, I had been born in the slums but joined the army and worked my way up, but on one mission during the Gulf War I was drunk, and it had spurred me on to lead my men into Iraq after our successful mission.

It resulted in the deaths of five of my men, although we did destroy many Iraqi tanks, but the Saudis complained to the USA, fearful that Iraq may be invaded and therefore leave the way open for Iran to invade Saudi through it.

The complaining of the Saudis, my drunken behaviour, five dead needlessly and my tongue ended with me forced to resign.

Since then I had worked in politics, becoming a Senator last year.

And now I wondered what the President would want with me.

"I want you to be my Secretary of Defence." he smiled.

"Don't you mind my reputation?" I asked bluntly.

"No. You have changed these last few years, and I need a hard man to stop the Russians trying it on. They've gone Red again, and we have news that the Serbian dictator has escaped his prison, and it seems to be with help from Spetsnaz."

This was news for me, but I still wanted to know why I was being appointed.

"Why me?" I asked.

"Because my brother spoke highly of you, and said he'd follow you to the end of the earth because you cared about the men under your command. That's the kind of guy I need."

Brother?! I remembered the President's surname, Walters.

Walters? Walters! One of the men killed in the Gulf with me was called Walters!

"Yes, my brother was one of those five men." the President nodded, reading my thoughts.

"I cannot express how sad I am at what happened." I stuttered.

"He knew he was going to die someday. And while you may have been drunk, they followed your orders with their own free will. They could have just arrested you for being drunk. So of course you're forgiven."

"Thank you Mr. President."

"Jack, call me Jack." he laughed. "Also, you're going to take this post, cause if you don't, then you don't receive my forgiveness." He smiled as he spoke the last words.

"Yes Mr. Pres... I mean Jack."

I smiled too as I walked from that office.

*******************************************

Just introducing basic characters! Also, For Better or Worse will be finished soon, just I had an idea and wanted to begin it!

Comments appreciated!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[SomeOneElse]

good story. I can hardly imagine this being a true civ3 tale, what with saudis and serbians and iraqis. too bad, though, that we cant have minor civs and cultures in the game, but thats another topic. otherwise, is it just me, or does this sound like a Tom Clancy novel

[cbraund]

lol, I love Tom Clancy books, so yeah, I probably tried to make it sound like one

Oh, and no it isn't based on a Civ3 game, I gave up trying to do that ages ago, cause my games seem to have been boring as hell recently!

Chris

[civman2000]

good intro (more of an intro than a teaser)!

[cbraund]

Oh, and anyone worked out why MAD is in capitals yet?

Chris

[civman2000]

now i have

[TheDarkCavalier]

Nope ... why is it MAD?

[ElDiablo]

Mutually Assured Destruction?
Great job so far!

[cbraund]

Yeah, Mutually Assured Destruction.

Let's just say if the two sides ever go to war, nukes will mean everyone dies.

Which is why the Secretary of Defence will have to try and prevent it...

Chris

[beno]

or escape to Alpha Centauri

[cbraund]

Sorry it's been so long, but I had to finish Better or Worse, and run the UKNES2 etc.

But here's some more!

*****************************************

The Serbian tanks crossed the border at midnight.

The only NATO forces left in Kosovo were infantry, apart from a company of the United States 1st Armoured Division, the rest of which was based in Germany.

The forces were American and British, due to pull out soon now order had been restored.

Word had not yet reached them of the Serbian President's assassination or the escape of the old President.

But he was back in power, and the Serbian Army was once more invading.

The allies shared a main base near Pristina, the capital of Kosovo.

The Serbians surrounded it.

***************************************

Private Thomas Jones had just finished a telephone call to his brother, Peter, who had just been asked to become Secretary of Defence.

Lucky b*stard, Thomas thought smiling. His brother was fourteen years older than him at 32. Thomas, at 18, had just joined the army, and had no doubt his brother's fame and position would help him rise through the ranks.

He was determined to rise through them on his own merit though, so that no one could say he hadn't deserved it.

But how could one prove themselves in a place like Kosovo? The war had been over before he arrived, and it was boring peacekeeping duty.

He marched back towards the camp, having entered Pristina to make the telephone call and go to a pub with a few friends.

Now as they neared the camp, they could see something was wrong.

Fire. Explosions. Screams.

They were under attack! The thought dawned on him despite the pint of lager he had had.

He led the run towards the camp, and gasped to see the company of tanks that were the striking power of the base destroyed before their crews had even reached them.

"Damned lookouts! They shouldn't put newbies on watch!" Thomas cursed. His three friends agreed with him.

Now they could only watch as the base was destroyed. They had no weapons on them.

But then the sound of women's screams met their ears. It was coming from Pristina, where they had just left their local girlfriends!

They charged back along the road, to see Pristina now ablaze as well, as soldiers searched every house, and raped most women.

Thomas ducked into an alley as he saw three soldiers advance on them, but his friends weren't as quick.

They were gunned down, unarmed.

Thomas cursed the Serbians. They were animals!

***************************************

The first the Serbians knew about the men hidden in the woods was the death of over a hundred of their men.

Now the Kosovo Liberation Army burst from cover, alongside their tanks.

They had hardly disbanded at all since the last invasion, convinced that once the NATO forces left the Serbians would invade once more.

And now they were here to rescue their capital and their allies.

Thomas sighed in relief to see reinforcements, and began to charge towards the base down the main street.

He didn't see the men in the shadows.

****************************************

"Shut up." came the gruff Scottish voice.

He released his hand from Thomas's mouth, and then let him go. Thomas spun round to see a group of British infantrymen.

"Who are you? Why aren't you helping defend the base?!"

"We're trying to! We've had to come from the other side of Pristina to help! And guess who told the KLA to come?"

"But there were no men on that side of the city!"

"We were having a picnic." the Scot growled, daring the American to challenge his story.

They handed Thomas a gun, and he followed them towards the base.

****************************************

"Any American interference in the Serbian civil war will result in war between Russia and America. *CLICK*"

President Walters reviewed the telephone conversation once more, up to the point where the phone line went dead.

"Why did the hotline go dead, and we can't get hold of them again?" he asked his Secretaries of Defence and State.

"Most likely someone cut it, possibly Morschev himself." I answered him.

"Why?"

"I think it's a message, to tell us that Russia won't negotiate, which is what the hotline has always been a symbol of." Secretary of State Scott Archer answered that one.

"The CIA have profiled the guy." I put in. "They say he has a deep hatred towards America, and most likely will want war."

"Damn." Walters cursed. I couldn't blame him. No one wanted to be the President who started the big one.

Vice President Anthony Kingsfield burst in.

"Sorry I'm late." he gasped.

"Take a seat." POTUS motioned to a free seat in the Oval Office.

"So how is the war going?" Anthony asked.

"The KLA and the remaining NATO troops managed to drive them back to the border, which they are currently holding. But we can send no more troops or there will be war with Russia." I repeated what I had told the President earlier.

"Hmmm. No more American troops." the President had a smile on his face.

"I see sir." I grinned also. "We ask the Brits."

"Yep. Get Premier Daniel Taylor on the phone, Sarah." he spoke into the intercom to his secretary.

It was soon arranged that the entire SAS regiment would rush to Kosovo to help defend the border.

"And we will send a carrier to the area, just as a precaution." Jack nodded at me.

"Ike is in the area."

"Good, the Eisenhower will do nicely."

As the others left, Walters turned to me.

"Wasn't your brother in Kosovo?"

Good memory! I thought.

"Yes sir." I said, looking at the floor. I had still heard nothing about him, and feared he must be dead.

"He's alive." POTUS said, reading my mind as he seemed to be able to do so easily. "The British SAS found him. He's returning home."

Relief washed over me, and I walked from the Oval Office a happier man.

******************************************

The Eisenhower battlegroup entered the Adriatic on full alert, knowing that the Russians wouldn't be happy.

Captain Smith of the Ike was calm and collected, as per usual.

"Torpedo on the starboard side!" came the cry from his sonar operator.

"Full to starboard!" Smith ordered.

"Full to starboard!" the pilot repeated.

The huge ship began to swing to starboard. Smith was determined to present as small a target as he could to the torpedo, and that was the slim front of the ship.

"It's pinging us!" the sonar operator cried. That meant that the torpedo had locked onto them.

"Fire some noise makers!" Smith ordered.

"Firing noise makers!" his weapons officer confirmed.

Now they waited. The big aircraft carrier had moved hard to starboard and begun it's ponderous acceleration in that direction.

"It's locked on to a noisemaker!" the sonar operator gasped in relief.

Smith sighed as well, and they all heard the explosion as the torpedo hit the noise maker.

The reports came in from the rest of the group. The Russian submarine had escaped, chased by the battlegroup. It had been lying in wait for the Eisenhower, too quiet for any sonar to hear.

"The President isn't going to be happy!" Smith smiled.

"If he's unhappy, the Russians are going to be furious!" grinned the pilot.

********************************************

I arrived in Moscow two days later. I had a Detail of only two men with me, due to the fact I was going to have to go in a small Russian plane to the General Secretary's lodge outside Moscow.

The Detail had checked out the plane without the Russians knowing, and confirmed it was safe, no bombs or weapons onboard.

I climbed aboard now, with the pilot greeting me in Russian, a language I had learned towards the end of the Cold War.

"We are going to see the General Secretary." he spoke in broken English now, thinking I hadn't understood.

"Yes, I know. Thank you." I answered in fluent Russian.

I was here to try and make peace with the Russians, and warn Morschev that such an attack again on an American carrier would result in a full scale war.

As the plane took off, I looked over the Russian land. It was beginning to prosper once more.

Democracy can't work for everyone, I surmised. Russia was too big for one, and had let crime be rife, and food wasn't spread evenly resulting in many starving.

But Communism had once again changed that, the KGB quickly cracking down on crime, and food being shared once more.

Maybe it's just the way Russia is supposed to be, I thought.

Then I realised the plane was diving.

"What are you doing?!" I demanded.

I realised my Detail were asleep, and I guessed the tea the friendly people at the airport at offered them was drugged.

"I am dying for Mother Russia!" the pilot shouted.

I grabbed his arm, and now, knowing the plane was going to hit the floor, he could turn on me.

He threw my arm off him, but I took his sleeve with me.

"Spetsnaz!" I gasped, seeing the tatoo on his arm.

"No other." he grinned as the plane crashed into the ground.

*******************************************

More to come later! Comments appreciated!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[cbraund]

I groaned as I opened my eyes. The Spetsnaz man was nowhere to be seen. Both him and I had braced ourselves for the impact as our training had taught us to, and it seemed we both had survived because of it.

The Detail men, fast asleep from the drugs, weren't so lucky. I checked them for pulses, and both were dead.

I stood up. The middle of the ceiling was ripped open, and the plane was in a bad way.

And burning.

I struggled out of the plane, drawing my Walther P99 as I did, knowing that the Spetsnaz man was around somewhere. He could have been thrown clear, but that increased his chances of survival even more.

And Spetsnaz men weren't to be taken lightly.

Nor were SEALs, I told myself, as I stumbled away from the plane.

It blew up behind me, but I was far enough away not to be thrown forward.

I looked around me. I was in a forest.

I heard a gunshot, and instincts made me duck.

The bullet ploughed into the tree exactly where my head had been.

I threw off any thoughts of pain or injury. The adrenaline was flowing, and all of my SEAL training came back to me.

I fired the Walther once in the direction I thought the bullet had come from.

The reply shot told me I was right. He was on the other side of the clearing.

I preferred the Walther over most American pistols due to its robust and compact design. It was the newer version of the PPK, the gun I had used as commander of the SEALs.

It had a 15 round magazine, double that plus one of the PPK, and of most other pistols, and had a larger calibre.

Now it was to be put to the test, was it better than my old gun? I hoped it was.

I moved, and stood on a twig by accident. It snapped.

The bullet hit the tree which I was behind, and I breathed once more.

Now I drew my knife, which I still brought with me like the pistol, despite now being a politician, not a soldier.

But I was one now.

I threw the knife towards a rock on the other side of the clearing to the way I was intending to go.

The shot in that direction told me he had falled for the bait.

I moved silently round the side of the clearing, until I was behind him. I could see his calculating eyes scanning the other side of the clearing.

The glass around him told me that he had been thrown clear, which was the reason he hadn't finished me off immediately after we hit the ground.

I aimed the P99 at his head, but his soldier's instincts acted for him like they had for me.

He ducked as I fired, and the bullet hit the tree where he had been.

I shot again, and succeeded in shooting the gun from his hand.

He stood quietly.

"Give it up." I ordered in Russian.

"Never!" he screamed, then charged at me.

I rolled to one side, and tried to fire, but he was quicker. His foot caught the P99, and sent it flying.

He lifted me up against the tree, using his huge strength.

I reached for my knife, then remembered I had thrown it.

His hands closed around my throat, and I began to gag.

I saw the knife on his belt, which he seemed to have forgotten about.

I reached for it slowly, but he continued to strangle me.

I kicked once, and was lucky. It hit him in the groin, and he loosened his grip.

I grabbed the knife and plunged it into his heart from the back.

We sank to the floor, where I recovered my breath and my gun.

******************************************

Peter Jones was dead in a tragic plane crash.

Or that's what the Russians were saying, after three days of searching and finding only the burnt out plane with ashes inside it.

"It looks like I must go there myself." Jack said grimly. His Chief of Staff agreed with him.

"Prepare Air Force One, I'll fly tomorrow." Jack ordered.

******************************************

I was heading to the Ukrainian border, knowing that NATO had a newly established there.

I was west of Moscow, I knew that much, but after three days I had begun to give up hope.

Then I saw it. The border!

But then I saw a warehouse near the border, that was heavily defended.

Why such a defence for a storehouse? I asked myself.

Then I saw a convoy heading up the road towards it.

The General Secretary!

I slipped into the compound, using the silencer on the P99 that I had found to eliminate the guards.

Then I ducked into an air duct, and followed the vent shaft.

I heard the voices inside through the inside ducts.

"I declare the missile defence shield open!" the General Secretary's voice boomed.

I froze in horror. I had just found out why Russia didn't care about nuclear retaliation!

******************************************

More to come tomorrow! Comments appreciated!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[civman2000]

How will the world go MAD now??? Oh yeah, it only blocks 3/4 of the nukes

[dnassman]

Doing very well. Keep going.

[The Bloody Baro]

Great!

[cbraund]

"We will be given an honorary guard of Russian fighters from Eastern Europe to Moscow." Scott told POTUS.

"Very well," Jack nodded. He was desperately hoping this journey would achieve something, and turning down an honour from the Russians, however deadly it could be, was not a risk he could take.

******************************************

I watched the General Secretary tour the warehouse that was actually a missile defence headquarters.

I was nervous and tense, and jumped when I felt something on my leg.

My leg, which I was crouched on, jerked forward, just as I realised it was a rat, not a threat.

But it was too late. My knee bumped into the vent grille, and it fell to the floor, exposing me, and alerting all the people in the quiet room.

They gawped at me for a second, and I used it to shoot once with my P99.

I had hoped to kill the General Secretary, but in my haste, it only hit his arm.

But he still roared in pain, and the blood still flowed, causing everyone to crowd round him to see how he was.

While they were doing that, I sprinted for the door, determined to escape.

The General Secretary got back to his feet behind me, cursing.

“Get after him!” He yelled at his men.

The KGB began to chase me, and I heard a bullet from what must have been a silenced gun slam into the wall near me. I dove for the door, just dodging another bullet, and was then out into the fresh air.

I ran towards an army jeep, and quickly despatched the driver to whatever heaven he believed in.

I jumped in, threw the driver out of it, then put my foot down, as well as my head.

Bullets cracked at the windscreen, but amazingly none hit me. I heard the KGB men running for their cars.

It was turning into a long ride home.

**************************************

The jeep rocked as it hit a stone, and my heart lurched as I thought the jeep may tip over.

But it held, as it had for the last twenty miles. The KGB were keeping up, but due to the steel behind my seat and headrest, they couldn’t hit me from behind. And trying to take out the jeep by shooting it was impossible. Its wheels were also reinforced with metal inside, so no bullet would penetrate them.

I knew that if they came too close on either side, they could hit me, but they were scared of the jeep’s powerful weight. Also, that was why they weren’t trying to block me off or knock me off the road, despite being able to go much faster than I.

This went on for another five miles or so, with me going in many different directions, trying to shake them off. I went left, then quickly right, onto the slipway of a motorway and then going down the bank back onto the normal road, and many other tricks I knew.

But none worked.

Then they began to close, while we were on a deserted road in the countryside.

I looked in the rear mirror, and now that they were close enough, could see that their vehicles were heavily armoured as well as fast, and easily strong enough to take the jeep on.

So why were they waiting?

Then I heard a loud whirring noise, and looked into the sky.

A Hind helicopter.

It had obviously been moving to head me off, for it came down the road towards me, and a low level.

I fumbled around behind me as I drove towards this monstrosity, desperately looking for a rocket launcher, or something I could fire at it other than my useless-against-such-a-beast P99.

I discovered only grenades.

It’ll have to do, I told myself as I took the pin from one with my teeth.

The Hind accelerated towards me, and began to open fire with the machine gun mounted in the turret underneath the nose.

It spat metal rain in a line along the road. These were explosive bullets, I realised with dread.

As the helicopter and the jeep closed at a fast rate, I still held the grenade.

Then I threw it, and threw myself from the jeep, rolling away down a bank into a ditch.

The grenade exploded just above the Hind’s canopy, killing the pilots. It also damaged the rotors, and sent the helicopter ploughing into the ground.

But it was too late for the jeep, the explosive bullets had already hit it, and they proved to be armour piercing too. The powerful vehicle exploded.

The jeep and the Hind in their way was too much for the three KGB cars to escape from, and all three crashed into the burning wrecks.

I climbed back onto the road, and threw a grenade I had still in my hand towards the mess.

It bounced towards the crash site, where still no one was stirring. It exploded, and made sure no one survived.

I began to hike up the hill on the other side of the road, dismayed at being further away from the border than ever before, in my reckoning.

That reckoning was proven wrong as I reached the crest of the hill, looked down, and recognised the Ukrainian border.

****************************************

“Sir, we have the Secretary of Defence on line one.” An aide told Jack.

“Put him through.” Jack growled, unhappy at having been woken up during this overnight flight. Anyway, that damned Murray guy hadn’t even been sworn in as SecDef yet.

“It’s on videophone,” the aide motioned towards the device.

Great, Jack thought unhappily. “I always look great when I’ve just been woken up!” He muttered sarcastically.

But the man on the videophone looked even worse than he.

“Peter!” POTUS exclaimed happily. The Secretary of Defence was alive! That meant that moron back in Washington could rot in hell for all Jack cared.

“Hello.” I answered.

I proceeded to tell him of everything I had seen, and of my plans to now go straight to London, where I would take a Concorde back to Washington.

“But the peace plan!” POTUS demanded.

“Sir, get out of there! They don’t want peace; they have an ace in the hole, a missile defence system!”

The words hit Jack like a ton of bricks, and I saw him recoil.

“They have what?” he asked again, unable to believe his ears.

I repeated it.

“Oh no.” he groaned.

*****************************************

Air Force One was at Code Red, as was the entire US military.

F-14s from the Eisenhower scrambled to protect the President’s plane.

Now the people on board could only wait.

“They will fire their Phoenix missiles at our ‘guards’ as soon as they reach maximum range. That should be in two minutes.” The steward, himself a fighter pilot, was helping to direct the F-14s. He had been chosen for Air Force One to actually be able to control the sophisticated radar equipment on board.

“Isn’t that dangerous? Couldn’t those missiles hit us?” POTUS asked.

“No sir, it’s safe. Air Force One, or the VC-25A as it’s known, as a little feature few people know about – it can act as a high-tech AWACS craft.”

“Airborne Warning And Control System.” Scott Archer spoke.

“Yes.” The steward answered.

Jack looked at Scott, wondering where he knew that from.

“I always wanted to be in the air force, Mr. President. Couldn’t though, cause I’m colour blind.”

“So this radar is on now?” the President asked.

“No sir. It lights up on another radar screen like a white man in Harlem. We have to wait until they are within range, as turning it on will let the Russians know we know what they’re up to.” The steward replied.

“Very well.”

“Everyone strapped in?” the steward checked.

“Yep.” POTUS answered. “But why?”

“Cause Air Force One can rock and roll when a missile is fired.” The steward grinned and would reveal no more.

***************************************

General Secretary Alexei Morschev nursed his aching left arm, with it still in a sling.

He had recognised the man who did it, and knew he hadn’t been caught. He just had to hope he hadn’t crossed the border.

But now, Russian radar had picked up F-14s inbound for Air Force One. That meant that he probably had, and the President knew.

“Destroy it now.” He ordered.

“Very well sir.” Defence Minister Josef Petrov answered.

“But sir!” Interior Minister Mikhail Ivanov was protesting.

The already irritated Morschev raised his right arm, a pistol in his hand, and ended Mikhail’s worries.

Josef decided he would never question the General Secretary, and whispered a small prayer for the man who had shot the Russian leader, for God help him if Morschev ever caught him.

**************************************

Nicholas Morschev, son of the Russian leader, was the commander of the flight that protected Air Force One. It was supposed to honour the American leader that the ruler of Russia’s son was accompanying him, but it served a more sinister purpose.

Nicholas was here to make sure that Alexei’s orders were carried out.

Nicholas wasn’t like his father, and was instead a kind and gentle man. But he was an ace fighter pilot, and deadly and calculating in battle. He followed orders, as any son of the Motherland should.

And when this order came through, he didn’t think twice before pulling the trigger button to fire.

**************************************

“Missile lock on!” the shout echoed around Air Force One, as the plane lurched into a dive, spewing out chafe.

“What the hell is the pilot playing at?” POTUS asked.

“It’s not him, anti-missile movement is controlled by the computer. Also, the AWACS automatically turns on.”

The President only nodded, now pale as he realised the seriousness of the situation.

Outside, the missiles were confused by the chafe and the sudden dive, and they all exploded in the cloud of chafe. It was heard inside.

“Four missiles, one apiece.” The steward counted. “That means they have plenty more, and I’m not sure Air Force One can cope with them all.”

I hope so, the President thought.

************************************

The F-14 squadron leader sighed with relief as he entered firing range, and saw Air Force One’s AWACS signal showing the enemy.

It meant Air Force One was still in the fight, and now could be saved.

Each plane in his flight of four fired two Phoenix missiles each.

***********************************

Nicholas cursed as the missiles missed, and he and his flight had to realign to fire again.

They rushed to do so, and then Nicholas gave the order to fire again. He fired two of his missiles, and looked around for his flight mates.

All he could see were three fireballs as missiles ploughed into them.

He cursed, and dived, hoping to avoid any missiles heading for him.

But they followed, and his plane blew up like the others.

No one ejected.

**********************************

Air Force One dodged again, trying to avoid the two incoming missiles.

One missed, but one hit the closest right engine.

“Damn.” The steward cursed, but was relieved that Air Force One would make it, despite the damage.

The plane turned and began to limp home, escorted by American fighters all the way.

*********************************

More to come later! Comments appreciated!

Chris AKA Nemesis

[Verto]

The only improvement to the story that you could make is to put Gary Oldman onboard Air Force One as part of a Russian TV news crew . Make it true Tom Clancy and work in the defection of the head of KGB.

[cbraund]

lol, there is a defection later on

Chris

[The Bloody Baro]

Go Russians!!