04-27-2014, 08:12 PM
Freetown, Sierra Leone, Légion Première regional office
Capitaine Gordon Antić stood in his small office as he leafed through reports and administrative requests from the various teams he had in the field throughout Sierra Leone. It was all the usual fair until two reports from very different sides of the country caught his eye.
One of the teams stationed at a small airport in northern Sierra Leone had mentioned sounds of gunfire at the local military base, that hadn't seemed to be coming from the weapons ranges. In fact, the officer making the report had mentioned the fire seemed to be originating from the section of the base where the troops barracks was situated.
A second report mentioned that a dozen trucks and APCs had been seen moving into Freetown early that morning, and that the troops that could be seen in the backs of the trucks had been armed; the RPGs they carried actually had anti-pers rounds loaded, rather then travelling empty.
Both incidents had been time stamped, and were within minutes of each other.
He frowned, then pulled up an image of the country. Various markers indicated the location of military bases as well as unit dispositions; the images attached to the reports of the troop movement into Freetown was compared to what the Legion knew of the Sierra Leonean military's deployments. The unit patches he could make out were all from the northern half of the country, a unit made up predominately of Temne tribesmen as he quickly learned.
The base the shooting had been heard from was where a major infantry regiment was based, which was made up of troops gathered from around the country, although again predominately Temne, with maybe a quarter of Mende backgrounds. He pondered for a long moment over what the information could mean.
"Sranje."
He snapped up his Wallet from the desk, swiping away all the various pop ups that it was displaying, intending to send warning to his men and the CEO, but it was already too late. An explosion could be heard near the city center through his open window (his office had no air conditioning), and it was quickly followed by the distant snap and pop of weapons fire. One glance out the window confirmed his fear; smoke was beginning to rise from the parliamentary buildings, the seat of the government.
It was a coup.
-----
Within five hours the city was pure chaos. Netland Hospital was on fire; the president had been rushed there for treatment of his injuries sustained in the failed assassination attempt. The ensuing gun fight when Temne-loyal military forces stormed the place had left the building and probably hundreds of bystanders dead.
Mende-loyal military forces were fighting a defensive battle against the better prepared Temne units. Public order had collapsed entirely; the police had been hit hard by platoons of Temne soldiers and rebels that had been sneaking into the city in small groups all night.
The abandonment of the Légion Première office had gone swimmingly. They had had plans in place for situations like this, and had moved quickly as soon as the first explosion had rocked the government district.
They had moved to the Moroccan embassy in quick order, and were admitted quite willingly by the small team of military police that served as the embassy's guards. By the time the hospital had been set aflame, the small embassy had been fortified and the CEO had been brought up to date with what little information Capitaine Antić could offer.
"Your men are not in an enviable position, Capitaine Antić. But there is work to be done."
Jacques spoke with the Capitaine via video call over their Wallets. He was seated in his private jet, flying over the Red Sea and into Egypt, on the homeward leg of his trip to DV.
Capitaine Antić nodded grimly. The sounds of weapons fire could be heard even from within the embassy's thick walls. Ambassador Oluwaseun Stankic, the Moroccan representative to Sierra Leone. She was into her fifties, and was well regarded in the Moroccan government as a no-nonsense woman.
"Mr Danjou, I appreciate your men's presence here at the embassy, but what exactly is it you have in mind here? I strongly doubt the Moroccan government is going to offer you a contract to guard their embassy for them."
She studied the young European man carefully; she was all too aware of him and his company's antics in the past. They got entirely too involved in situations like this for a private security company. But they had a well earned reputation for the quality of their men, so she was almost willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.
"Ambassador Stankic. A powerful name, Stankic. Croatian, I believe? Fitting, considering Capitaine Antić's birth place. Means...Stand and Glory, yes? Or perhaps Become Glorious is more accurate. Well, with your cooperation, you are going to become a very well loved woman in Sierra Leone."
He made a gesture at his Wallet, and a series of screens popped up for the Capitaine and Ambassador to view.
Capitaine Antić nodded with grim determination at what he saw, while Ambassador Stankic blanched at what it meant. She glanced at the Capitaine and was horrified at the look of determination on the man's face, then looked to the image of Jacques with a mix of terror and anger. "You would bring death on everyone in this building if you do this!"
"And if I don't, then they will be lucky if they are only killed. So you may as well come aboard with the plan, Ambassador. Take the bold lead, and save lives. Do not simply hide behind your walls and wait for your government to come rescue you."
She shook with a mix of anger and fear, but after a moment's hesitation she finally nodded her assent. "Fine...I will endorse this."
------
One hour later, near the State Lodge, one of two Presidential abodes in Freetown. The other, Kabasa Lodge, was embroiled in a heated battle between Mende and Temne forces.
A small group of Sierra Leonean soldiers knelt with their hands behind their heads, staring fearfully at the barrels of weapons in the hands of Temne rebels. They had surrendered without a fight, and were about to pay the price of being on the wrong side in an African civil war.
The rebels were not going to be gentle, as a small group, apparently the leaders, came forward with machetes and bottles of rum they had 'liberated' from the bar inside the Lodge, while others dragged the President's family from the building kicking and screaming.
The now dead President Knezevic's wife was in rough shape by the time the rebels dragged her outside, bleeding profusely from a wound to her head where she had been struck with the butt of a rifle, and her two sons and daughter, ranging from 5 to 11 years old, were being dragged by their hair towards another apparent leader and another holding a video camera.
They were to be executed and the recording to be publicly broadcast to demoralize the forces loyal to the government.
The Presidential Guard lowered their gaze in shame, unwilling to watch the President's family be murdered in front of their eyes. They hadn't even bothered to put up a token resistance.
The President's wife was thrown to the ground, while machete wielding rebels lined up behind the kneeling guards. There were not enough machetes for the number of surrendered soldiers, and it would be long and bloody process. Under the barrels of guns though, there was little they could do to turn the tide.
Machetes rose while the children screamed and struggled to get to their barely conscious mother, not fully understanding how dire their situation. Soldiers struggled to keep the kids under control, and those with weapons leveled on the Presidential Guards diverted their attention for a moment to laugh and chirp their struggling comrades.
Ten shots rang out in near perfect unison. Ten rebels dropped dead, and another ten a bare second later as chaos broke loose. Rebels spun and fired blindly at the street, not sure at first where they were being fired on from.
Ten Legionnaires, led by Capitaine Antić were closer then the rebels had thought. Their initial attack had made the odds far more balanced, and the heavily armoured soldiers of Légion Première came out of hiding, firing at will at the scattered rebels.
"Fire at will!"
Capitaine Antić carried a SIG Sauer pistol and stalked towards the rebels closest to the President's family. The pistol barked twice and the rebel with the camera dropped, his t-shirt quickly turning red as his still-beating heart pumped his blood from his body.
The Legionnaire to his left staggered and growled an angry curse as a round from a rebel kalishnikov struck his heavy ballistic plates, but he kept his feet and took another step forwards, firing at the rebels that had let go of the President's children, dropping another.
Machete-wielding rebels charged them in a suicidal rush, and Legionnaires met the with blade rather then bullet. Bayonets fixed, they expertly parried the unpracticed hacks and slashes of the rebels, and skewered their opponents front-to-back with their wickedly long bayonets, before callously kicking the dying men from their weapons and stabbing the again for good measure.
The Presidential Guard rose up to seize their last chance of survival, wrestling with the rebels that had moments before held them at gun point.
Thirty seconds later, and the Lodge was secured. Capitaine Antić rounded up the President's family, and the shamed guards, re-armed now that the rebels had been dispatched. They seized the vehicles the rebels had arrived in, six pick-up trucks, two of which mounted crudely attached .50 cal machine guns, and three up-armoured Légion Première SUVs roared up, into which the President's family were loaded.
Within five minutes, they were loaded and barreling back to the Moroccan embassy.
Edited by Jacques, Apr 27 2014, 08:22 PM.
Capitaine Gordon Antić stood in his small office as he leafed through reports and administrative requests from the various teams he had in the field throughout Sierra Leone. It was all the usual fair until two reports from very different sides of the country caught his eye.
One of the teams stationed at a small airport in northern Sierra Leone had mentioned sounds of gunfire at the local military base, that hadn't seemed to be coming from the weapons ranges. In fact, the officer making the report had mentioned the fire seemed to be originating from the section of the base where the troops barracks was situated.
A second report mentioned that a dozen trucks and APCs had been seen moving into Freetown early that morning, and that the troops that could be seen in the backs of the trucks had been armed; the RPGs they carried actually had anti-pers rounds loaded, rather then travelling empty.
Both incidents had been time stamped, and were within minutes of each other.
He frowned, then pulled up an image of the country. Various markers indicated the location of military bases as well as unit dispositions; the images attached to the reports of the troop movement into Freetown was compared to what the Legion knew of the Sierra Leonean military's deployments. The unit patches he could make out were all from the northern half of the country, a unit made up predominately of Temne tribesmen as he quickly learned.
The base the shooting had been heard from was where a major infantry regiment was based, which was made up of troops gathered from around the country, although again predominately Temne, with maybe a quarter of Mende backgrounds. He pondered for a long moment over what the information could mean.
"Sranje."
He snapped up his Wallet from the desk, swiping away all the various pop ups that it was displaying, intending to send warning to his men and the CEO, but it was already too late. An explosion could be heard near the city center through his open window (his office had no air conditioning), and it was quickly followed by the distant snap and pop of weapons fire. One glance out the window confirmed his fear; smoke was beginning to rise from the parliamentary buildings, the seat of the government.
It was a coup.
-----
Within five hours the city was pure chaos. Netland Hospital was on fire; the president had been rushed there for treatment of his injuries sustained in the failed assassination attempt. The ensuing gun fight when Temne-loyal military forces stormed the place had left the building and probably hundreds of bystanders dead.
Mende-loyal military forces were fighting a defensive battle against the better prepared Temne units. Public order had collapsed entirely; the police had been hit hard by platoons of Temne soldiers and rebels that had been sneaking into the city in small groups all night.
The abandonment of the Légion Première office had gone swimmingly. They had had plans in place for situations like this, and had moved quickly as soon as the first explosion had rocked the government district.
They had moved to the Moroccan embassy in quick order, and were admitted quite willingly by the small team of military police that served as the embassy's guards. By the time the hospital had been set aflame, the small embassy had been fortified and the CEO had been brought up to date with what little information Capitaine Antić could offer.
"Your men are not in an enviable position, Capitaine Antić. But there is work to be done."
Jacques spoke with the Capitaine via video call over their Wallets. He was seated in his private jet, flying over the Red Sea and into Egypt, on the homeward leg of his trip to DV.
Capitaine Antić nodded grimly. The sounds of weapons fire could be heard even from within the embassy's thick walls. Ambassador Oluwaseun Stankic, the Moroccan representative to Sierra Leone. She was into her fifties, and was well regarded in the Moroccan government as a no-nonsense woman.
"Mr Danjou, I appreciate your men's presence here at the embassy, but what exactly is it you have in mind here? I strongly doubt the Moroccan government is going to offer you a contract to guard their embassy for them."
She studied the young European man carefully; she was all too aware of him and his company's antics in the past. They got entirely too involved in situations like this for a private security company. But they had a well earned reputation for the quality of their men, so she was almost willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.
"Ambassador Stankic. A powerful name, Stankic. Croatian, I believe? Fitting, considering Capitaine Antić's birth place. Means...Stand and Glory, yes? Or perhaps Become Glorious is more accurate. Well, with your cooperation, you are going to become a very well loved woman in Sierra Leone."
He made a gesture at his Wallet, and a series of screens popped up for the Capitaine and Ambassador to view.
Capitaine Antić nodded with grim determination at what he saw, while Ambassador Stankic blanched at what it meant. She glanced at the Capitaine and was horrified at the look of determination on the man's face, then looked to the image of Jacques with a mix of terror and anger. "You would bring death on everyone in this building if you do this!"
"And if I don't, then they will be lucky if they are only killed. So you may as well come aboard with the plan, Ambassador. Take the bold lead, and save lives. Do not simply hide behind your walls and wait for your government to come rescue you."
She shook with a mix of anger and fear, but after a moment's hesitation she finally nodded her assent. "Fine...I will endorse this."
------
One hour later, near the State Lodge, one of two Presidential abodes in Freetown. The other, Kabasa Lodge, was embroiled in a heated battle between Mende and Temne forces.
A small group of Sierra Leonean soldiers knelt with their hands behind their heads, staring fearfully at the barrels of weapons in the hands of Temne rebels. They had surrendered without a fight, and were about to pay the price of being on the wrong side in an African civil war.
The rebels were not going to be gentle, as a small group, apparently the leaders, came forward with machetes and bottles of rum they had 'liberated' from the bar inside the Lodge, while others dragged the President's family from the building kicking and screaming.
The now dead President Knezevic's wife was in rough shape by the time the rebels dragged her outside, bleeding profusely from a wound to her head where she had been struck with the butt of a rifle, and her two sons and daughter, ranging from 5 to 11 years old, were being dragged by their hair towards another apparent leader and another holding a video camera.
They were to be executed and the recording to be publicly broadcast to demoralize the forces loyal to the government.
The Presidential Guard lowered their gaze in shame, unwilling to watch the President's family be murdered in front of their eyes. They hadn't even bothered to put up a token resistance.
The President's wife was thrown to the ground, while machete wielding rebels lined up behind the kneeling guards. There were not enough machetes for the number of surrendered soldiers, and it would be long and bloody process. Under the barrels of guns though, there was little they could do to turn the tide.
Machetes rose while the children screamed and struggled to get to their barely conscious mother, not fully understanding how dire their situation. Soldiers struggled to keep the kids under control, and those with weapons leveled on the Presidential Guards diverted their attention for a moment to laugh and chirp their struggling comrades.
Ten shots rang out in near perfect unison. Ten rebels dropped dead, and another ten a bare second later as chaos broke loose. Rebels spun and fired blindly at the street, not sure at first where they were being fired on from.
Ten Legionnaires, led by Capitaine Antić were closer then the rebels had thought. Their initial attack had made the odds far more balanced, and the heavily armoured soldiers of Légion Première came out of hiding, firing at will at the scattered rebels.
"Fire at will!"
Capitaine Antić carried a SIG Sauer pistol and stalked towards the rebels closest to the President's family. The pistol barked twice and the rebel with the camera dropped, his t-shirt quickly turning red as his still-beating heart pumped his blood from his body.
The Legionnaire to his left staggered and growled an angry curse as a round from a rebel kalishnikov struck his heavy ballistic plates, but he kept his feet and took another step forwards, firing at the rebels that had let go of the President's children, dropping another.
Machete-wielding rebels charged them in a suicidal rush, and Legionnaires met the with blade rather then bullet. Bayonets fixed, they expertly parried the unpracticed hacks and slashes of the rebels, and skewered their opponents front-to-back with their wickedly long bayonets, before callously kicking the dying men from their weapons and stabbing the again for good measure.
The Presidential Guard rose up to seize their last chance of survival, wrestling with the rebels that had moments before held them at gun point.
Thirty seconds later, and the Lodge was secured. Capitaine Antić rounded up the President's family, and the shamed guards, re-armed now that the rebels had been dispatched. They seized the vehicles the rebels had arrived in, six pick-up trucks, two of which mounted crudely attached .50 cal machine guns, and three up-armoured Légion Première SUVs roared up, into which the President's family were loaded.
Within five minutes, they were loaded and barreling back to the Moroccan embassy.
Edited by Jacques, Apr 27 2014, 08:22 PM.