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The Dogetopian Trading Post wrote:

Putting Gretchen’s name through the database reveals that she was a famous wrestler…within Brasilistan. She never lost a match, and this was for real, since she wasn’t affiliated with a company who made up plot lines or anything.

She was also renowned for her accuracy with projectile weapons, winning many championships. Despite her martial skills, however, she only did it on the side while working on the family chicken business.

Gretchen narrowed her eyes.

“Look, I know I just invited myself here, which is rude. But those Rhedians destroyed my village, and they won’t stop there. I need to be in the action, but I can’t do it alone.”

Furi frowns. It is undeniable that Gretchen has skills. Still, though, the Avengers is not just a collection of heroes running around punching bad guys. It is a team. Its biggest strength is its unity, and the trust that members have for one another.

At that moment, he receives a call on the radio.
“Furi! It’s Mary. I ran a background check on Gretchen…no red flags so far. In Brasilistan, she’s a famous wrestler, and a pro…sports rifle shooter? She’s also linked to a chicken business. There’s not too many other details, but I can keep digging…”

The GESHIELD Director turns to several agents beside him.

“Alright…pat her down, make sure she isn’t hiding anything.”

As the officers quickly frisk her, he stands closer, his eye narrowing as it meets hers.

“Gretchen. I understand you want to fight against the Rhedians, but the Avengers are an Edmundian team. I want to understand - why us? You are aware our countries aren’t exactly on friendly terms, right?”

Great Edmundia wrote:

Furi frowns. It is undeniable that Gretchen has skills. Still, though, the Avengers is not just a collection of heroes running around punching bad guys. It is a team. Its biggest strength is its unity, and the trust that members have for one another.

At that moment, he receives a call on the radio.
“Furi! It’s Mary. I ran a background check on Gretchen…no red flags so far. In Brasilistan, she’s a famous wrestler, and a pro…sports rifle shooter? She’s also linked to a chicken business. There’s not too many other details, but I can keep digging…”

The GESHIELD Director turns to several agents beside him.

“Alright…pat her down, make sure she isn’t hiding anything.”

As the officers quickly frisk her, he stands closer, his eye narrowing as it meets hers.

“Gretchen. I understand you want to fight against the Rhedians, but the Avengers are an Edmundian team. I want to understand - why us? You are aware our countries aren’t exactly on friendly terms, right?”

Gretchen proudly started handing weapons over to the agents. She brought an armory. “Sorry, I was using them to escape the Rhedians. But I’m not hiding them. Sorry…here’s another one. And this.”

She turned to Furi after handing over all of her various weapons (none of which she used during the fight with the various agents). “I came here because if there’s anybody willing to fight the Rhedian threat, it’s the Avengers! As long as you’re fighting them, you won’t need to worry about me. I’ll do whatever it takes sir!”

(CRAB Arc - For context, the Brasilistani animal rescue activists have just arrived at the village of the ancient indigenous Jaguar tribe.)

The Dogetopian Trading Post wrote:

After what seemed like an eternity of trudging through the humid, insect-filled jungle, the party came into a massive clearing.

In this clearing were remnants of what appeared to be an ancient civilization. Cracked paved roads were visible, and a huge stone temple towered above the clearing, overgrown with vines and weeds. Other impressive buildings included what looked like a broken down palace far in the distant end of the clearing.

Living in this area were the Jaguar tribe, who, understandably, were surprised to see the visitors. They gathered their weapons hurriedly, but stopped when Isabella removed her quarantine helmet to let them see her face.

The man who looked like the leader of the tribe barked questions, and Isabella answered back in his language. Then, she turned to the group.

“Eles estão nos deixando ficar. Precisamos levar os animais para seus currais e localizá-los. Enquanto você faz isso, falarei com o chefe.”

(“They're letting us stay. We need to take the animals to their animal pens and get them situated. While you do that, i'll talk with the chief.”)

The Rhedian spoiled brat cautiously backed away, then raced behind the temple. She pulled out a little radio and started to contact the Rhedian military.

“I have procured a good amount of animal test subjects. All you need to do is visit these locations and kill these weak animal activists and tribal people. It will be easy!”

Once they come to a stop, Callie puts down the crocodile tank, and places her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Wrapped in her hazmat suit, she feels as though she is being baked alive in the tropical heat. Her head is pounding, and pain is shooting through every limb.

“Quando podemos tirar os capacetes? Eu preciso de água!”

[When can we take off our helmets? I need water!]

Turning around, she catches a glimpse of the magnificent structure before her, the spires bathed in the rays of the rapidly-retreating sun. She knew of the Jaguars before, but this is the first time she has entered their home, their domain.

Callie could stand here for hours, taking in the majestic view of the ancient ruins set against the rugged wilderness. But, she has a job to do. The animals need her, now more than ever. As far as she can tell from the updates on her phone, the Rhedians certainly aren’t pausing to admire the view, either. Quickly, she gets back to work, helping the other volunteers move the animals into their new enclosures.

Great Edmundia wrote:(CRAB Arc - For context, the Brasilistani animal rescue activists have just arrived at the village of the ancient indigenous Jaguar tribe.)

Once they come to a stop, Callie puts down the crocodile tank, and places her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Wrapped in her hazmat suit, she feels as though she is being baked alive in the tropical heat. Her head is pounding, and pain is shooting through every limb.

“Quando podemos tirar os capacetes? Eu preciso de água!”

[When can we take off our helmets? I need water!]

Turning around, she catches a glimpse of the magnificent structure before her, the spires bathed in the rays of the rapidly-retreating sun. She knew of the Jaguars before, but this is the first time she has entered their home, their domain.

Callie could stand here for hours, taking in the majestic view of the ancient ruins set against the rugged wilderness. But, she has a job to do. The animals need her, now more than ever. As far as she can tell from the updates on her phone, the Rhedians certainly aren’t pausing to admire the view, either. Quickly, she gets back to work, helping the other volunteers move the animals into their new enclosures.

The natives of the Jaguar tribe decided to take up helping the activists, and a six foot tall ruggedly handsome tribal member helped Callie to relocate a three-tongued anteater. The animals were being relocated to the old palace, where they would be hidden from sight if the Rhedians attacked from the air or ground.

With the natives helping, the relocation went quickly. The natives gathered food and water and left them on the outskirts of the village, near the temple, for the volunteers. Isabella turned to Callie.

“Os aldeões cuidarão dos animais, nós lhes mostraremos como. Precisamos limitar nossas interações para não adoecer. Enquanto isso, tire o capacete e beba.”

[The villagers will care for the animals, we will show them how. We need to limit our interactions so as not to get them sick. In the meantime, take off your helmet and drink.]

The annoying rhedian girl sidled up next to Callie and took several selfies, then she took some selfies next to the temple. She was putting her pictures on rhedian social media, displaying their exact location. Some of the tags were #Rhediaforlife #Newanimaltestsubjects and #Callieisannoying.

Isabella scolded the rhedian, not knowing that the rhedian had betrayed them.

“Calíope! Você pararia de postar nas redes sociais por um minuto? Estamos em uma situação séria aqui!“

[Calliope! Would you stop posting to social media for a minute? We’re in a serious situation here!]

NOVEMBER 9, 2032. 23:00 IST [18:00 ECST]. FORT GARUM NAVAL ESTABLISHMENT, PORT DEINATE, NEW CICERIA.

Consul Magnus has his head buried in his hands. It has been just a little over twenty-four hours since Rhedian troops crossed the border. His forces have fought valiantly, but their efforts have been futile. The nation’s capital, Eludeo, is effectively in enemy hands. He knows he has to lead. Millions of Cicerians on the front lines are depending on him. But his mind is foggy, his thought process desperately confused. What is he to do?

“Erm…sir?

The Consul looks up.

“Yes, General Lanius?’”

“Sir, we just got official confirmation…Consul Protectus is dead, sir.”

Magnus’ eyes widen.

“Wait…what?”

“Yes, sir. He was still at the border yesterday morning when the attacks started. He was helping coordinate our defences when an enemy cruise missile struck the bunker he was in. It’s been confirmed there were no survivors. The Senate - or, what’s left of it - wants to appoint you DiP, sir.”

Magnus breathes deeply. DiP. Dictator in Perpetuum. A title only bestowed upon a leader in the direst of circumstances. With it comes a range of powers which the Founding Fathers of the Republic had decided no one man should wield in peacetime. In the present circumstances, though, peace has become but a distant luxury. He breathes deeply, and nods.

“The responsibility is heavy, but I shall bear it.”

“Very good, sir. Senate Leader Crassus is here to swear you in.”

A toga-clad figure strides into the room, flanked by guards. Senate Leader Crassus may be old, but he is far from frail. His eyes still reflect the ferocity and tenacity that has won him the top spot in the Senate. Each wrinkle in the man’s face is a testament to the countless wars, emergencies, political battles and crises he has had to face. He is battered, but he stands tall. A living symbol of what is means to be Cicerian.

“Alexander Magnus. You are the last hope of the Republic. Please do not disappoint us. Now, place your hand forth on this document.”

“Very well, Senator.”

Magnus rests his palm on the copy of the Cicerian Constitution, and takes a deep breath.

”I pledge…to uphold the ideals of the Res Publica Ciceria in the office of Dictator in Perpetuum, and I will faithfully execute my duties, as Leader of the Government and Commander-in-Chief of the Legiones Armatae Reipublicae Cicerianae, in allegiance to Senatus Populusque Ciceria.”

As the copy of Ciceria’s Constitution is taken away, General Lanius clears his throat.

“Sir…the capital is surrounded. The Rhedians are moving into the outer suburbs, and paratroopers are landing across the city. What do we do?”

Magnus exhales deeply.

“Enemy bombardments?”

“Heavy, sir. They’ve been hitting us with long-range artillery and airstrikes. It’s a miracle most of our national landmarks are still standing, sir.”

The new Dictator furrows his brow. The history of an entire nation is etched into the hallowed halls of Eludeo’s buildings. He can’t just let all of it be destroyed in another senseless war. What is be to do?

NOVEMBER 9, 2032. 23:30 IST [18:30 ECST]. INTERNATIONAL AIRSPACE, 150 NAUTICAL MILES FROM THE CICERIAN COAST.

The IGS Insight. Pride of GESHIELD’s fleet, and the lead vessel of her class. About 400m long and 90m wide, her displacement of almost 150,000 tonnes is kept in the air by four massive repulsor engines. Cloaking her in the night is an array of reflective panels, which render her invisible to any onlookers below.

The plucky members of the New Avengers, however, are not here to admire this engineering marvel. They have a job to do, and not much time in which to do it.

Officially leading this operation is Josh Runner, better known as the Edmundian Agent. He points to a map of Eludeo, Ciceria’s capital city, as he briefs his new comrades.

“Alright, here is the Edmundian Embassy, in the middle of town. It’s 8km from Eludeo Port and the coastline, 2km from the Senate building. Right now, it’s being defended by 20 protective service agents and 30 Marines. We’ll need to get them out…plus 60 diplomats, and 100 civilians trapped inside…”

Runner exhales deeply.

“How are we going to do this?”

“And remember, you’ll need to be as quiet about this as possible. I don’t want those damn Rhedians getting the drop on us, alright?”

Everyone turns around, to see a leather-clad man with an eyepatch leaning on the doorframe. Runner nods in his direction.

“Furi…what are your thoughts?”

“My thoughts? There’s something I need you all to see.”

With a few taps of his personal device, a video flickers onto the screen. It’s Consul Magnus.

”Friends, Cicerians, countrymen! Lend me your ears. Just half an hour ago, I was appointed Dictator in Perpetuum by our honourable Senate Leader, Publius Crassus. I’m sure you are aware that this is not a position normally given to a public official in a democratic nation such as ours. But these are not ordinary times. As you may know, Rhedian troops are currently at the gates of our beloved Capital. Bombs have already begun falling on our most sacred national sites. Thus…I have made the difficult decision to withdraw from Eludeo, and declare it an open city. I realise this move will undoubtedly upset some of you. But, I cannot bear to see our country’s intangible cultural heritage be destroyed. In the meantime, the national government has been shifted to another, undisclosed, location, and we will continue to coordinate our resistance against Rhedian aggression. To the residents of Eludeo: tough times lie ahead. But, I urge you all, please stay the course. Don’t give up. We will get through this, together…”

Director Furi turns to the group.

“Our satellites have already detected Cicerian troop withdrawals from positions around the capital. We estimate the city will be fully evacuated of Allied forces in less than 24 hours. We need all our guys on a ship and gone by that time. Do we have a plan?”

The Dogetopian Trading Post

Gretchen couldn’t believe that she was accepted into the New Avengers. She had thought she would need to take matters into her own hands, that they wouldn’t accept her, but here she was. She bit her lip. She had been hoping they’d be assigned to Brasilistan, but she was still helping her country by fighting the Rhedians, even if she was in New Ciceria, right?

Mattr’k and B-79 didn’t have any plans at this exact moment. Mattr’k was best used in gathering intelligence, and B-79 was best when in combat due to his many overpowered abilities. Besides, Kittrk was their boss…or was he? He’d been their boss on Kokepelli, but now the situation had changed.

This left Kittr’K to come up with a plan. He turned to Furi confidently. “We send in Mattr’k disguised as the boss of the rhedian troops.

First, we send our guys a message that we are sending a spy into enemy ranks to trick them, and to play along.

Next, we assassinate the Rhedian commander on the ground and replace them with Mattr’k. Mattr’k will “escort” the people in the embassy to the port, where we’ll ambush the Rhedians. B-79 will use his super-speed and strength to drive them back while we get them onboard. I can use my magic and Gretchen can help too. The key is overwhelming power and the element of surprise…”

im back bish

Nea Athena wrote:im back bish

Hello there

Planet Kokepelli wrote:

Gretchen couldn’t believe that she was accepted into the New Avengers. She had thought she would need to take matters into her own hands, that they wouldn’t accept her, but here she was. She bit her lip. She had been hoping they’d be assigned to Brasilistan, but she was still helping her country by fighting the Rhedians, even if she was in New Ciceria, right?

Mattr’k and B-79 didn’t have any plans at this exact moment. Mattr’k was best used in gathering intelligence, and B-79 was best when in combat due to his many overpowered abilities. Besides, Kittrk was their boss…or was he? He’d been their boss on Kokepelli, but now the situation had changed.

This left Kittr’K to come up with a plan. He turned to Furi confidently. “We send in Mattr’k disguised as the boss of the rhedian troops.

First, we send our guys a message that we are sending a spy into enemy ranks to trick them, and to play along.

Next, we assassinate the Rhedian commander on the ground and replace them with Mattr’k. Mattr’k will “escort” the people in the embassy to the port, where we’ll ambush the Rhedians. B-79 will use his super-speed and strength to drive them back while we get them onboard. I can use my magic and Gretchen can help too. The key is overwhelming power and the element of surprise…”

Josh Runner, the Edmundian Agent, nods intently. All the pieces are clicking into place.

“Well…that could…that could actually work! I can coordinate the charge at the port, and Sergeant Chow can provide sniper cover.”

Chow raises his head.

“Guys, if I may…I’ve had experience with covert ops before. Also, are we really sending Mattr’K in alone, without any backup? I propose I get dropped in with him. I can disguise as an enemy soldier or just go stealth with my sniper rifle, and provide cover while he does what he needs to do.”

Director Furi frowns.

“Better idea. This is our first mission. I want everyone to come home from this one. Well…nice work, team! This is beginning to sound like a good plan…”

“This sounds like a terrible plan, Furi.”

“General Angus…please. We don’t have much time.”

General Peyton rests his head in his hands, and exhales deeply. If there is anything he misses most about being in uniform, it is the ability to decisively make decisions himself on the field. As a politician and an Imperial Minister, he now has to juggle the demands of competing advisors each vying for his attention. On the screen in front of him, remoting in from the Helicarrier, is Director Furi of GESHIELD. Seated beside him is General Montgomery Angus of the Imperial Marine Corps.

“Angus, what was your plan again?”

“Alright, here…I say we have a full assault on Eludeo. Air Force will pound the area, knock the Rhedians senseless. Then, under unceasing naval bombardment from the Imperial Navy, us Marines will effect an amphibious landing at the port. Once the dock facilities are secure, we will use helicopters to reach the besieged embassy. We will withdraw once all our guys are out. You said there’s a 24 hour deadline? We can redirect the forces that are passing through the area on the way to Libertian Edmundia right now. We’d have boots on the ground in 10 hours.”

Furi frowns.

“That’s a stupid-ass plan. Isn’t the whole point to reduce casualties as much as possible? We don’t even really know what the Rhedians’ capabilities are yet. If we send in hundreds of Marines, we might come back with hundreds of body bags instead of hostages. And in ten hours, it’ll be broad daylight! I say, we send in the New Avengers.”

General Angus scoffs.

“The New Avengers! And how will it look? Our own Prime Minister, needing to be rescued by a bunch of foreigners! Why don’t we just surrender to Rhedia while we’re at it?”

“General, aren’t we in the process of building alliances with those ‘foreigners’? Also, I have Capt. Josh Runner leading the team, who the last time I checked is an Edmundian soldier. Now, if you’ll listen to me-“

Peyton raises his hands, hushing both Angus and Furi.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Now, I think I see room for compromise. Director Furi, your plan is good, except one thing…how will our guys be extracted once they get to the port? Will there just be a ship there, exposed? And General Angus, Furi is right - your plan will lead to too many casualties. Plus, we haven’t been formally invited by the Cicerians to operate on their soil yet, so any action we take will technically be a breach of their sovereignty. So, let’s not make ourselves too obvious, shall we?”

As he clears his throat, he pulls over a map of Eludeo, and positions it so both Furi and Angus can see.

“Furi…I propose we go with your plan, up until we reach the docks. Once your guys are there, a company of Marines backed by air and naval support will make a small amphibious landing and assist the New Avengers to secure the port facility. We hold just long enough to get all our people out of there, then we withdraw. Not a second longer. I’ll talk to the Prime Minister about this. Are we all clear?”

General Angus huffs, and glares at Furi.

“Crystal.”

NOVEMBER 10, 2032. 10:20 IST [05:20 ECST]. 6,000 METRES ABOVE ELUDEO, NEW CICERIA.

“Wow…and these guys withdrew to protect their monuments? There might not be any point left in withdrawing.”

Sgt. Chow gazes out the cockpit window of the Quinjet, at the destruction below him. Columns of thick, black smoke rise from what remains of the city. In the middle of one square, a traditional temple is being consumed in ravenous flames, hungrily licking the sides of the building. Organised columns of Rhedian armoured vehicles can be seen snaking their way into the heart of Ciceria’s old capital, steadily pushing aside the walls of sandbags, barbed wire and anti-tank spikes hastily erected in a vain attempt to keep them out. Its scattered and weary defenders, on the other hand, are nowhere to be seen. Breathing deeply, he turns to Mattr’K.

“Well…we’re here. It’s game time.”

Chow adjusts the helmet on his HALO-duit, just as the jet’s parachute door swings open. From behind, the brisk voice of the jump supervisor calls out.

”ALRIGHT, GO GO GO!”

Great Edmundia wrote:

Josh Runner, the Edmundian Agent, nods intently. All the pieces are clicking into place.

“Well…that could…that could actually work! I can coordinate the charge at the port, and Sergeant Chow can provide sniper cover.”

Chow raises his head.

“Guys, if I may…I’ve had experience with covert ops before. Also, are we really sending Mattr’K in alone, without any backup? I propose I get dropped in with him. I can disguise as an enemy soldier or just go stealth with my sniper rifle, and provide cover while he does what he needs to do.”

Director Furi frowns.

“Better idea. This is our first mission. I want everyone to come home from this one. Well…nice work, team! This is beginning to sound like a good plan…”

“This sounds like a terrible plan, Furi.”

“General Angus…please. We don’t have much time.”

General Peyton rests his head in his hands, and exhales deeply. If there is anything he misses most about being in uniform, it is the ability to decisively make decisions himself on the field. As a politician and an Imperial Minister, he now has to juggle the demands of competing advisors each vying for his attention. On the screen in front of him, remoting in from the Helicarrier, is Director Furi of GESHIELD. Seated beside him is General Montgomery Angus of the Imperial Marine Corps.

“Angus, what was your plan again?”

“Alright, here…I say we have a full assault on Eludeo. Air Force will pound the area, knock the Rhedians senseless. Then, under unceasing naval bombardment from the Imperial Navy, us Marines will effect an amphibious landing at the port. Once the dock facilities are secure, we will use helicopters to reach the besieged embassy. We will withdraw once all our guys are out. You said there’s a 24 hour deadline? We can redirect the forces that are passing through the area on the way to Libertian Edmundia right now. We’d have boots on the ground in 10 hours.”

Furi frowns.

“That’s a stupid-ass plan. Isn’t the whole point to reduce casualties as much as possible? We don’t even really know what the Rhedians’ capabilities are yet. If we send in hundreds of Marines, we might come back with hundreds of body bags instead of hostages. And in ten hours, it’ll be broad daylight! I say, we send in the New Avengers.”

General Angus scoffs.

“The New Avengers! And how will it look? Our own Prime Minister, needing to be rescued by a bunch of foreigners! Why don’t we just surrender to Rhedia while we’re at it?”

“General, aren’t we in the process of building alliances with those ‘foreigners’? Also, I have Capt. Josh Runner leading the team, who the last time I checked is an Edmundian soldier. Now, if you’ll listen to me-“

Peyton raises his hands, hushing both Angus and Furi.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Now, I think I see room for compromise. Director Furi, your plan is good, except one thing…how will our guys be extracted once they get to the port? Will there just be a ship there, exposed? And General Angus, Furi is right - your plan will lead to too many casualties. Plus, we haven’t been formally invited by the Cicerians to operate on their soil yet, so any action we take will technically be a breach of their sovereignty. So, let’s not make ourselves too obvious, shall we?”

As he clears his throat, he pulls over a map of Eludeo, and positions it so both Furi and Angus can see.

“Furi…I propose we go with your plan, up until we reach the docks. Once your guys are there, a company of Marines backed by air and naval support will make a small amphibious landing and assist the New Avengers to secure the port facility. We hold just long enough to get all our people out of there, then we withdraw. Not a second longer. I’ll talk to the Prime Minister about this. Are we all clear?”

General Angus huffs, and glares at Furi.

“Crystal.”

NOVEMBER 10, 2032. 10:20 IST [05:20 ECST]. 6,000 METRES ABOVE ELUDEO, NEW CICERIA.

“Wow…and these guys withdrew to protect their monuments? There might not be any point left in withdrawing.”

Sgt. Chow gazes out the cockpit window of the Quinjet, at the destruction below him. Columns of thick, black smoke rise from what remains of the city. In the middle of one square, a traditional temple is being consumed in ravenous flames, hungrily licking the sides of the building. Organised columns of Rhedian armoured vehicles can be seen snaking their way into the heart of Ciceria’s old capital, steadily pushing aside the walls of sandbags, barbed wire and anti-tank spikes hastily erected in a vain attempt to keep them out. Its scattered and weary defenders, on the other hand, are nowhere to be seen. Breathing deeply, he turns to Mattr’K.

“Well…we’re here. It’s game time.”

Chow adjusts the helmet on his HALO-duit, just as the jet’s parachute door swings open. From behind, the brisk voice of the jump supervisor calls out.

”ALRIGHT, GO GO GO!”

B-79 and Kittr’K could both fly. Their point in the operation was to distract the enemy and start an overwhelming attack, but they needed Mattr’k to replace the enemy commander first. The tension was palpable. Gretchen had her hands behind her back, impatiently watching. She wanted revenge for what the Rhedians had done in Brasilistan.

Mattr’k adjusted his face instead of his halo suit helmet. He leapt out of the helicarrier and landed on the ground below.

The drop point was a roof; if they landed directly on the ground they would get captured by the Rhedian ground troops. The Rhedians had radar and spotters ready, and detected that people were landing on the roof. They didn’t have any men directly on the roof however, so they sent a team to take the building and see what was going on.

Mattr’k knew that dropping in from the sky with a parachute wasn’t exactly conspicuous. They needed to land, ditch the parachutes, and blend in with the civilians. They’d kidnap some rhedian troops, take the uniforms, and bluff their way to the commander so that Mattr’k could replace them.

«12. . .127128129

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