The next few months are busy as Seph works with the military to try and come up with a plan short of war to drive off the Panemian naval forces and oil drilling ships. But given the fact that they are stubborn, it only draws tensions and people are not willing to risk war at the moment, so he is forced to concede and relent. At least until the next meeting of world leaders. And this time, he is going to be present. At least by hologram.

"Damn glad we got one thing operational for international communications," he mutters as he approaches the center of the meeting chamber. Although he prefers to be with his forces at times like this, as he doesn't need a central holographic imager to project his image to the rooms within the palaces and military complexes of the other nations, at times like this he has no choice. Still, it is better than nothing. He flexes his right arm to make sure the servos are working properly before he flips the hilt of his beam saber forward and ignites the blue blade.

A smirk crosses his face as he waves it around before shutting it down and folding it back up. He takes the time to pause outside the room, right in front of a mirror hanging there. He glances at his reflection briefly; a tall man at six foot two stares back at him, grizzled features giving him an intimidating stature. His uniform is pressed and clean, the metal of his right arm gleaming silvery white in the light of the hallway. His optic lens glimmers before he turns and heads inside.

"Better hope those bastards listen to reason for once..." he mutters.

He has no idea how wrong he is.

(The scene shows a small flame before darkness snuffs it out. But a small ember burns...)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The ember is blown away, becoming one of many as the sun begins to rise beyond a war-torn town.)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The light from the sun overcomes the camera and it fills the screen before fading to show the skyline of Sydney and the name of the series.)

Yami ga sono tochi o shuchō suru kamo shirenai (The image flares before it shows two people trapped in a ruined structure in what was once Shanghai. They are both shaking and are wounded from shrapnel.)

Shikashi, kibō wa enjo no te o kasu (A pair of explosions rocks the area and they huddle and whimper before someone lifts the debris off the two of them. It is a group of Australian soldiers.)

Sekai ga kawaru to (The soldiers help the two children to their feet before one of them grabs a grenade and throws it at some bandits coming to pillage. The grenade explodes before the debris falls away, exposing the ruins of Europe, Marshal Sergei Kudryavtsev's image over the continent, King Lawrence III opposing him over Europe as well.)

Furui risō wa moe tsudzukeru (The scene is engulfed in a bright flash as it shows Korean soldiers storming through city ruins in what was once Seoul, South Korea, carrying Panemian weaponry as rebels fight back desperately. Above them is Ahn Sun Pok, her face twisted into a sneer as she holds her hands upwards, as if mocking the world's helplessness. Behind her is the Panemian Vice President while President Kane is off to the side, gazing at the sky.)

Kieru hikarinonakade (With a wave of her hand, she commands the forces to open fire on rebel positions. Missiles rain down, the black smoke engulfing the area before it is blown aside by a hoverplane.)

Kurayami ga hirogaru ni tsurete (The hoverplane is painted in Arabian colors, and on top of the imposing palace is Muthasim V, the sultan. He looks back as it fades to a map, showing the Egyptian Union breaking away from them. But then it shows the country turning a bluish green as it fades to show a new figure in the shadows.)

Watashitachi no kibō wa tsudzukudeshou (The figure holds up its right arm before it lunges out, coming into the light to reveal Seph Matthews as he swings his beam saber mounted onto his right arm, cutting through a bandit before spinning and cleaving another's gun in two, following up with a left hook leaving him dazed. He turns, his left optics lens flaring red as it engulfs the screen.)

Watashitachi ga mada ikite iru kagiri (The light fades to show three other members, all of them gathered around in front of the Meldney Complex. To the left is Japanese Empress Yuki Minaguma. To the right is Filipino President Gueo Largina. And in the middle is Taiwanese President Chae Yang Un. Behind them the flag of the Australian Confederation flutters before the camera zooms in on it, only for it to fall away.)

Un, hikari ga tsudzuku! (The image of Sydney is revealed, above it Seph and his fellow leaders side by side with the sun behind them, the Australian Confederation flag above them all as the series name appears below them.)

Chapter 2: Carry the Light

Location: Meldney Complex

Time: 1200 hours

Date: Thursday, 11 May, 139 AF (2158 AD)

"Those damn blasted bastard fools!"

Seph's shout startles a few of the aides working in the main complex, and some of them even jolt. They turn just as the President storms out of the conference room, his optic lens flashing bright red in his anger. He suddenly whirls around, igniting the beam saber on his right arm and bringing it up in a slash that cuts clean through a portrait of Ahn Sun Pok, a gift she had sent to congratulate the new ruler of Australia before she learned who he really was. But Seph, seeing as he is not a standard politician, is not too happy with the gift and keeps it away from his office, preferring to have it someplace where no one can see it. And right now it is the perfect target for his fury.

He lets out a roar as he turns and hacks it a few more times, his chest heaving as he stares at the smoldering remains. Her face is still intact, and he grits his teeth as he draws back his saber and stabs it right in the painting's forehead, letting the blade smolder for a few seconds before pulling it out. He then turns and grabs a nearby fire extinguisher, spraying the foam on the painting to prevent a fire from starting.

He drops the extinguisher and stores his saber before he turns back to the closest aide. "Get that piece of crap out of here," he mutters. "I don't want to see that woman's likeness here ever again!"

A few of the aides are more than happy to pick up the pieces and discard them in the trash.

Seph feels a lot better after his fury has been released, but he still feels a bit angry. "That damn bitch has no idea...!" he mutters darkly. "And after everything we've done so far...!"

"Sir? I take it the meeting didn't go so well?" one of the Secret Service agents asks as he lifts up his glasses a bit to expose his reddish eyes. His mop of white hair falls around his features nicely.

"Hardly!" Seph spits. "Those fools over there are stupider than dung if they follow through with this whole new world order spiel and all that crap!" He folds his arms and walks off. "Mostly those other dictators."

The agent frowns. "I heard your yelling during the meeting." He pauses as his superior turns to face him. "I can only take it that Aristella woman cut you off?"

Seph nods, his right fist clenching. "She is as stupid as that other Cappie woman, Viondra DeWynter!" His optic flashes a pulsing red at the mere thought of her. "And she's the worst. I've seen her a few times at several other meetings, and she, along with Aristella, hates us, our ideals, everything we stand for. I've never hated anyone as much as that woman..." He stops walking, and the two men stand alone in the hall for a moment.

"Agent Seabrooke... What is your opinion of the Panemians?" he asks, startling the agent.

"Why are you asking me, sir?" he asks. "I'm just an agent assigned to protect you."

"True, but I want to know personally. I know everyone here hates them to some degree, but I want to know because you've never heard them speak before until now," Seph says as he looks back at the agent.

Agent Colton Seabrooke frowns, remembering what he has heard. His eyes narrow into slits as he snorts. "They're so full of themselves... along with their so-called allies. Believing that the world is theirs for the taking... that's just the kind of thinking that lead to history repeating itself after the First World War. And from what I heard, it looks like it could lead to a fourth world war if this keeps up."

"And hearing about the Games?" Seph presses.

Now the agent seems to bristle. His shoulders hike up and his face contorts into a snarl. "Now that... That is just sick! Why anyone would even permit such a barbaric tradition is beyond me!" He finally relaxes a bit. "I may not hate them like so many others, but I don't like their idea of the world being their oyster! After all, we all share this world, right? The world is not theirs to do with as they see fit. That kind of thinking led to many wars, and nearly destroyed civilization as we know it. So we have to get them to see the fact that no part of this world is theirs alone. This is everyone's world. And that we uphold. Isn't that why one of your predecessors annexed those territories close to us a hundred years ago?"

Seph stiffens at that. He finally lets the tension go and he sighs. "That was a mistake he made and it nearly cost us everything."

"But it also saved them, didn't it?" Seabrooke asks.

The President has no argument for that one. "True, but it was a backlash that nearly destroyed our country. Why do you think I'm so hesitant about helping Un with his ambitions?"

The agent nods, understanding his position. "That is a good point, sir."

Seph turns and continues down the hallway, Agent Seabrooke following him before he stops at the elevator leading up to the office. "Well, you may as well get going home. Your wife is having her baby soon, right?"

Seabrooke blanches before he remembers. "Oh, right! Thanks, sir!"

He turns and ran off. Seph just chuckles as he enters the elevator and presses the button leading to the main office where he works.

He stands in the middle alone, his arms crossed as he watches the floor numbers tick by. The music helps to let his mind wander. The light flashes and the ding resonates as the door slides open and he steps out into the hall, coming face to face with Hunter, whose face is dead serious.

"What's up?" Seph asks, getting a bad feeling.

"Long story short, mate. The Panemians are not budging. They even threatened us into backing off when we got too close," Hunter remarks. "And they're not bluffing, either. They have some ships down there to protect the facilities they're setting up. And they're even threatening to take over what few facilities we have in operation still."

Seph's eye hardens and he grits his teeth. He turns on his heel, heading away from the office and down the hall, his boots pounding on the carpeted flooring. Hunter jogs to keep pace with his best friend. "I need to know what ships we have in the vicinity of the bloody facilities!" he barks.

Hunter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tablet, his eyes hard as he flicks through them before pressing a button on the side. The screen lights up as a hologram of the area in question appears. "This is the area currently in dispute. As you can see, they have five of their Poseidon-class destroyers in the area, as well as an aircraft carrier. The spy sats can't get a good ID on it because of some kind of jamming, but we suspect it might be one of their newest. And as for subsurface assets, we can only guess. We think there may be submarines as well."

"And us? What assets to we have?" Seph asks again.

"We currently have the USS Enterprise on standby, as well as the heavy-hitter. But she's still undergoing refueling," Hunter remarks, eyeing the ships on the roster. "And we have a bunch of our Canberra-class destroyers on standby as well."

"All right. As soon as the refueling is complete, I want her out there," Seph says. "And I'm going out too. I want to talk with the captain in charge out there."

Hunter seems to pale at that. "Seph, you can't be serious!"

"I am, Hunter. I don't want them to encroach on our territory anymore. So, I'm going. And yes, get the damn blasted bloody battleship ready!" Seph repeats, his eye flashing as his optic lens flares in his anger. "Also, prepare the Canberra, Worthington, Kennedy, and Obama for deployment. We're gonna need them."

"Yes, sir!" Hunter salutes and runs off to contact the Chief of the Navy.

Seph turns and continues on his way to the staircase taking him up to the heliport. The single helicopter that is assigned to his use is one he rarely uses. Codenamed Marine One, a callsign taken from the old United States of America, it is the latest in a long line of military choppers built for the President's use. This is the MRH-190, a more powerful version of the old MRH-90 transport helicopter. It is not fueled by fossil fuels, but by a prototype hydrogen fuel cell in its place. The helicopter is also outfitted with a pair of door-mounted plasma guns and one on the nose, in addition to missile racks on the sides. Painted in the Australian naval colors, it is one that no one wants to fight because of greater speed and maneuverability in comparison to Panemian helicopters still in use.

He gets into the passenger's door and into the seat as the helicopter pilot nods at his passenger. "All set to go, sir?"

Seph nods as he dons the flight helmet and buckles up. "Ready as ever, mate!"

Within minutes the chopper is airborne and en route to the docks.

Location: Darwin Docks

Time: 1350 hours

Seph isn't too surprised to see the crews scurrying about to get ready to head out. What he is surprised at is seeing the Chief of the Navy there waiting for him.

"All right, mate. What are you doing here?" Seph asks as he approaches the woman.

She turns and scoffs, blowing a strand of green hair out of her face. "What's it look like, sir? We're getting ready to head out. I'm just here to make sure that the loading goes smoothly. Given some incompetents..."

"Look. Don't blame the workers because of some mistakes," Seph tells her. "We have a bigger problem, and trust me, we need to stay focused."

Chief of the Navy Admiral Mayu Fujioka nods. "Yes, sir," she said. Then she frowns. "You're heading out, aren't you?" she asks.

Seph is silent as he turns and heads for the dock where the Australian Navy's heavy-hitter is located. That alone is enough confirmation for her. She snorts and turns back to her job.

The President finally pauses to examine the old battleship, although she can hardly be called 'old' anymore given the constant updating and rebuilding to get her to this point in time.

The USS Missouri is not the same ship in any way she had been upon arrival in Australian waters over a hundred years ago. She now has a sleeker, more compact bridge structure with all the necessary electronics for modern warfare. The entire hull has been slimmed down and was rebuilt to allow for a more stealthy profile, along with the Tomahawk missile launchers. (While an older missile, the Tomahawk was a reliable one, so the Australian Navy refused to get rid of it.) The ship's engines have recently been completely gutted, only to be replaced with a fusion reactor and more powerful engines, giving her greater speed and agility, while the hull is strengthened with nanobuilt armor plating. The only things remaining that are entirely original are the three turrets containing her powerful sixteen inch guns and all the anti-aircraft guns.

He smiles a bit to himself as he takes in the sleek, angled shape of her hull and bridge, along with the turrets. She may be an old lady, but she is in no way dying just yet. He knows that for sure.

A flurry of movement closer to his location catches his eye and he turns his head, spotting the sleek shape of another ship that has made it to Australian shores. One that is currently a mobile command ship. The former flagship of the now defunct America, the SS United States. While seriously outdated, she is still a fast old girl, especially since her inhibitor plates have been removed from her boilers. It also helps that her boilers can burn algae-derived oil. Her paint job is stripped to just the bare metal, but on the side her name and her iconic red, white, and blue funnels still stand tall and proud. Her bridge is refit to a whole new standard, with up-to-date electronics and communications systems. She even has an advanced warning system to warn the crew of incoming missiles or torpedoes. On her rear jackstaff flies a very old, and very tattered, US flag, a solemn reminder of her former nation. It currently hangs limply, as it always has ever since she arrived here, as if mourning her home country.

Seph huffs and turns his gaze from the ship back to the battleship as he steps on board.

He is greeted with the sight of men and women running around, getting prepared for heading out to sea. The fueling is finally complete, and the engineers are starting up the engines. He feels them rumbling beneath his boots and he makes his way to the bridge.

The captain of the ship is overseeing the launch, his eyes fixed on the sea further out, in the direction of the enemy fleet.

Captain Kyung Han runs a hand through his greying black hair, narrowing his brown eyes as he turns to face the man as he steps into the room.

"Mr. President. I wasn't expecting this," he says.

Seph brushes it aside. "Don't bother asking, Captain. The reason you're being sent out is clear enough."

Captain Han nods. "I understand, sir. But may I ask why?"

The President's eye hardens. "Long story short, mate? I'm sick and tired of this intrusion. It's either we force them to back off or coerce them into leaving. And I'd prefer to resolve it with diplomacy, but in the light of recent events, I'm not so hesitant about using force now," he says. "Especially seeing as how they still think the world is their oyster!"

Han frowns, remembering the last time a Panemian official stopped by during a tour throughout the Korean zones of influence. The man had been nothing but a jackass, saying the Koreans deserved a lot more land than they did, and all kind of other nonsense. At least when Australia annexed all the surrounding countries all those years ago, they had a reason to do so, not just to protect the people, but to deny Panem and Korea those very coveted resources. And now that they are threatening to drill in those territories, that is akin to invasion in his eyes.

"I know what you mean, sir. Last time a Panemian official said that, it made me want to deck the man in the jaw," he says.

Seph can't help but chuckle. "Too bad you couldn't."

Han cracks a smile in response. Then he grows serious. "This is against protocol, you know."

"I know. But I need to speak to the Panemian captain in this area. If we can get them to leave, then well... it'll be one less hassle to deal with." His optic flashes as he eyes the ocean. "And we can focus on other matters, such as seeing what kinds of things the damn bastards have planned for those bloody Games of theirs."

"You mean using the spy satellites to pick up the arena and capturing the movement of the tributes in there?" Han asks.

Seph nods. "Yeah. And maybe get an idea of the plans for the arena as well. Remember twenty years ago? We're just lucky one of the Rebellion managed to evade capture and find a new position as an arena designer."

Han knows what he means by that. The man in question is a former Rebel, as are the rest of the spies they had. In order to avoid suspicion, most spies for the Confederation have dual citizenship, an advantage when dealing with the Capitol. They have two forms of ID, one located within Australia, and one marking them as Panemian citizens. The Panem documentation remains on file, but it is the second form of ID that is locked away within Australia. Most also choose to surrender their Capitol or District names for normal names instead, or adopt foreign names instead. It would've been a lot harder to keep track of them all if it isn't for the quantum supercomputers.

The President turns back to the window and looks out. "C'mon. We got drilling to interfere with."

Location: Drill Site 0023 - Australian Territorial Waters - PNS Archimedes

Time: 1445 hours

Date: Thursday, 11 May, 95 ADD (2158 AD)

The Poseidon-class destroyer, the PNS Archimedes, is one of the latest in the long line of destroyers for the Panemian Navy. She is well armed, possessing state of the art weapons and missiles, mostly plasma weapons. She also is the leading ship of this fleet. And she is one of many to be feared.

Most nations in this part of the world only have smaller freighters decked out with old antique weapons. Such as the self-proclaimed Chinese Empire of Yan Fu Shin. Or the Kingdom of the Dragon, ruled by Hua Jiang. Most of those nations never last long due to the upheaval in the mainland country formerly called China. In fact, it is considered an insult to have to deal with them. Most Panemian naval officers often laugh and make jokes about that. Some say they would even want to fight Britain and its territories instead. But seeing as how many ships capable of fighting are only in this area, newbie sailors and officers are sent here to get some real-life training in.

While the relatively clumsy and often outdated freighters, cruise liners, and cargo haulers are good training for the newbies, it is the more experienced sailors that know to never underestimate their adversaries.

Especially as recently there have been some ships lurking close to their facilities under construction for drilling here.

From a distance they look like normal naval ships for the Koreans. But as they draw closer, it becomes clear that they are not Korean in design or appearance at all.

It looks as if a history book has come to life, the ships being exact copies of the old Arleigh Burke-class destroyers once used by their predecessor nation. But while the design may have been exactly the same, it is on the interior that it is different. Possessing fuel cells and algae diesel fuel powered engines, these ships can last longer than the ships used by the Panemians, and are greener in every sense of the word. The ships also have the advantage of stealth like the old destroyer class did. But on their sensor towers, the Australian Confederation flag flies proudly.

The Panemian officers in charge are more than shocked at seeing these ships. Never once have they heard of a naval force from another nation in this region. And they are not mere salvaged and modified freighters or cargo ships. These are purpose built warships, armed to the teeth and ready to fight.

But to discover upon the meeting of these ships that there is a nation, or rather an alliance, called the Australian Confederation in the area is enough to warrant the ships to be on high alert. And as the drilling rigs are brought into the area, the destroyers, which they discover are called the Canberra-class from interceptions of pirate and Chinese ship chatter, go onto high alert as well, and actually send a warning hail to them to cease their drilling, lest there be retaliatory force. The calls go unheeded, and the ships retreat further back.

The captain of the naval fleet assigned to the protection of the drilling rigs, Captain Glamoure Hansson, runs her hand through her shocking blonde hair and her blue eyes narrow as she studies the fleet patrolling just outside the territorial waters of the Confederation. There are only four, but they are not to be underestimated. "Ma'am, we just got video surveillance back from our drones," a voice says, catching her attention and bringing her back to the present at hand.

"What is it, Petty Officer?" she asks.

The man holds out the tablet. "See for yourself."

Glamoure frowns as she takes it and studies it.

Her frown grows even more pronounced as she stares at the scene of two larger ships coming in, along with four more of those destroyers. One of them looks to be well armed, with what appears to be three turrets with massive guns on them, and at once a chill races down her spine. She has heard of these ships. But to see one of them... And yet it doesn't look like what she has seen as a child.

The ship with the massive guns is not an ordinary ship. Designed for war, built to slug it out with the best ships of her day, and intended to drive fear into her adversaries, this is a ship that was meant for one thing only: battle. And it lives up to its name.

This is an honest-to-Snow's rose battleship. Much like theirs, but more modern.

Beside it is an aircraft carrier that looks as if it had also sailed out of a history book, armed with planes that are not of a type she recognizes. The deck is littered with them as the crews scramble around to arm them for combat. A hiss escapes her as she grits her teeth. "So... they've got a battleship!" she hisses. "Damn them! How could we not have seen this one coming?!"

The petty officer shrugs. "I have no answer, ma'am," he says. "I just know what I see."

Glamoure sighs as she hands it back to him abruptly. "Tell all our ships to stand by for firing orders. We will not let them interfere with our operations here!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the officer replies with a crisp salute.

The orders go out and the ships prepare for an inevitable confrontation. The destroyers arm their guns and the aircraft carrier prepares to launch its hoverplanes. The six ships hover around the drilling facilities, and beneath the waves lurk a few submarines. No one really knows much about them, so it serves as a useful propo tool to their adversaries. But they don't expect there to be several of the Confederation's own submarines lurking underneath the waves.

Of course, it is not the submarines the Panemians have to be worried about.

It is the battleship.

The fleet slowly draws closer and the large ship begins to swing around, coming until it is crossing with the Panemian Navy ships. The guns of the destroyers swing around to lock onto the six destroyers and single carrier. The stage seems set for war.

Glamoure frowns. They sure seem confident if they are exposing the battleship like that. But then she watches as the three turrets slowly swing around, and at once she realizes what this means.

She has heard stories, historical accounts of such a maneuver, where the guns of a ship swing around to bring their full power to bear on the enemy fleet. The olden ships from the ancient days were known to pull such a move in combat, delivering the full power of their arsenals upon their foes. This kind of move exposes the full broad side of the ship's hull, but at the same time allows for the guns on that side to fire. Of course though, with turrets on this kind of ship, it means that the guns could fire in any direction where an enemy ship is located.

And that is trouble.

The broadside is the most dangerous move a battleship could pull; especially if they possess massive guns like those.

Her eyes are wide as she finds herself staring at those massive barrels. She can only guess as to the size of them, but she figures them to be around maybe sixteen, seventeen inches in size. And that fact sends shivers down Glamoure's spine. She can only fear the worst at this point.

Seph on the other hand, is far from pleased. His optic is locked onto the bridge of the Archimedes, and he can see the Panemian woman's fear coloring her goddess-like features. Some small part of him takes pride in it; he wants to see them squirm, yes, but not over something as trivial as oil rights. He brushes it aside though and turns to look at the captain. "You guys ready, mate?" he asks.

"Yes, sir." Han nods, but he isn't too pleased about this. "You do know that if we actually fire on them, it would be paramount to war, sir."

Seph nods. He folds his arms as he stands in front of the main console. "I do. But rest assured. This is not a direct hit. It's only to give them something to think about."

His decision to actually bring out the old battleship is a sound one. No one has any ships left that could even match the sheer power of the Missouri's sixteen inch guns. And with nine of them to boot, it is a ship that can deliver massive firepower and damage at once. History has shown the value of such ships, not just for bombardment and battle, but also for an intimidation factor. So the President has ordered three more battleships to be built, named after the old Iowa-class from WWII. The Australian Navy even has a fifth battleship currently under construction, which is saying something as four is considered overkill by their allies. But considering the circumstances, it is better to have multiple battleships for insurance than only one.

He forces the thoughts from his mind as he watches the Panemian ships hold station in front of the drilling rigs.

His optic glints as he zooms in a bit more, and his lips curl upward in a smirk. She is starting to shake, and he can see the beads of sweat forming on her flawless forehead.

"Sir, we're ready to establish contact," the radioman says looking back at Seph.

The President nods as he unfolds his arms. He grasps the mike as it is handed to him.

"Attention Panemian naval fleet! This is the battleship USS Missouri! You are hereby ordered to cease any and all oil drilling operations within our territory! This is your only warning!" he barks.

"Attention Panemian naval fleet! This is the battleship USS Missouri! You are hereby ordered to cease any and all oil drilling operations within our territory! This is your only warning!"

Glamoure is stunned by the sudden announcement over the radio. How is it that they are so bold and brazen?! And that ship... Why does that name sound so familiar? She brushes it aside though and gets on the horn.

"This is the Panemian Naval Ship Archimedes! You are speaking to Captain Glamoure Hansson! Who dares to address me in such a manner?!" she demands, her eyes hardening into ice crystals.

"Heh. Just as stiff and proper as always!" the voice responds, sounding gruff and harsh. "You are speaking to President Joseph Matthews of the Australian Confederation! And I will speak to you how I see fit, you stupid woman!"

Her eyes widen at the name, and she grits her teeth as she grabs a pair of binoculars and looks in the direction of the battleship's bridge. She can see the man in question, his right arm a dead giveaway, as is his left optic. He holds the mike close to his face, and his green eye is hard like an emerald. He is dead serious from what she can see.

"For your information, the whole world is open for grabs! And we will have these oil reserves, no matter what you say, Australian!" she growls.

"Not gonna happen!" President Matthews shouts back. "This territory is off limits to any bloody Panemian naval and oil ships! If you do not comply, we will be forced to take rather forceful measures to drive you back! I would not risk a war, so I will only give you this warning shot!"

Wait. Warning shot?!

Her eyes widen in fear as she watches the guns on the Missouri swivel just a bit more and elevate up a few degrees. "Do not think I'm bluffing, woman!" he hisses. "Witness the main firepower of the USS Missouri!"

He doesn't even hesitate as he barks out the single word. "FIRE!"

All nine guns on the ship fire, sending a full salvo right for the Panemian naval fleet and drilling rigs. She watches in shock as the flare from the guns blossoms outward like a flower, turning reddish orange and red, thick black smoke mixing in with them. The shells exit their barrels at 762 meters per second, arcing skyward before falling with a whistling shriek. The image of the guns firing those shells will forever be embedded in her mind's eye as long as she lives.

The shells slam into the water in front of them, just meters away from the first ship's bow, throwing nine huge columns of water skyward. The sheer scale of those columns is enough to make some Panemian naval officers and sailors think twice, and she can see that even her crew is a bit terrified of such a ship. Or rather of the firepower it can bring to bear on them.

She grits her teeth and grips the mike. "You think that can frighten us?! We're not backing down!"

"Oh yeah?" the President asks, a smirk crossing his features. "I beg to differ. You see, that wasn't a suggestion. It was an order! So you will fall back! And besides... we're not going to play nice anymore!"

"Your claims are insignificant against the might of our navy!" Glamoure hisses. "We have more ships that your pathetic little navies combined!"

"Maybe for now... But who knows? After all, we've got something that may even the odds in our favor, bitch!" President Matthews sneers. "And we have something you lack: respect for others! America never did any of this shit! They didn't conquer territories for resources and then take them willie-nillie! They left them alone, and most of all, America avoided civilian casualties at ALL COSTS!"

Glamoure snarls. "You are so stupid to believe that we're just going to respect those insects beneath us-"

She is cut off by a sudden roar, not of the man she was speaking to, but of the guns from the old battleship once more. One of the destroyers skitters backwards, the captain clearly fearful. The District 2 native hisses as the shells slam into the ocean, once more throwing up those massive columns of water. "You dare to attack us again?!"

"I'm only keeping you bitches at bay!" Matthews growls. "And America never treated others as insects! You are ignorant to your past as a nation! And you will experience the painful awakening you need!"

"What awakening, bastard?!" Glamoure snarls.

Matthews' lips curl into a sneer as she eyes him through the binoculars. "The awakening to your lost respect for human rights, you stupid bitch!"

"Why do you keep calling me stupid?!" the captain screams at him. "I'll have you know I went through college and-"

"Then what was the date of the American Revolution before the Fall?!" Matthews cuts in, startling her. Wait, what? What is that question about?! Is he trying to pull something?

"I thought so. You don't even know your own history!" he mutters. "That question was to test your knowledge of the Pre-Apocalypse. But apparently the leaders wish to keep you fools ignorant as to who you used to be, only caring more about themselves and their selfish greed! The very same greed that is going to wipe out the world again unless you damn fools bloody wake up to the truth!" His last words are enough to tick off Glamoure.

"We are not brainwashed, and you are fools for thinking you can triumph against Panem!" she cries. "Prepare to open fire on all forces there! We are sinking that damn ship and showing them how strong we really are!"

"I don't think so!" Matthews hisses. "Not as long as I'm here! Now, you will do as I say and retreat from our territory, or else!"

"And how do you plan to do so?!" Glamoure asks, her eyes hard like ice.

The President merely smirks. "Don't think that that aircraft carrier with us is just for show. One of these days, the Eagle your leaders chained and subdued will take flight once more, and reclaim the throne you so forcefully took from them!"

She is confused by that statement. What eagle is he referring to? And what does it have to do with the aircraft carrier with their fleet? She watches as the carrier prepares to launch two planes from its flight deck. "I don't get what you're blabbering about, but it will never happen, fool!" Glamoure spits.

"Eagle flight, you're clear to launch," President Matthews says, ignoring her. She is surprised. He actually has the gall to ignore her, the captain of the Grand Pacific Formation?! She hisses and grips the mike in her hand.

The two planes are airborne in minutes, circling around the formation before one of them suddenly darts upward, and much to her surprise, shock, and awe, begins to shift and change...

The front half of the plane begins to fold outwards, the armored cockpit shifting downwards to become a torso of sorts and what appears to be two intakes extend outward to form a pair of arms, hands flexing into existence. The rear of the craft unfolds to become a pair of legs with thrusters built into the feet, and a head emerges from the space where the cockpit has once been. A set of twin optical sensors flares a bright golden color, and the light from the sun shines down on the newly formed mecha. But it's not done yet.

The grey color scheme begins to transform too. The upper half of the mecha becomes dark blue with a dark grey chest, and the bottom half changes to a dark blue as well, but with dark grey feet bottoms. The helm on the other hand turns a dark grey with a white faceplate and golden optics. Yet it is the dark grey pentagon with two slivers of golden metal on either side that catches her eye. It resembles a V-shaped fin of sorts, and the faceplate has two ventilation slats on it. The mecha spreads its arms and legs in a menacing fashion.

"Now, bitch... time for a little lesson you'll never forget!" Matthews hisses as the mecha draws what can only be described as a plasma sword of sorts. The optics flare and it speeds in...

And that sight is something she will never forget.

Location: Old Glory oil rig

Time: 1445 hours

35 year old Ratnam Kumar is not expecting to hear or see the Panemian ships coming closer to the rig. She grits her teeth and barks out orders to the gunners assigned to the rig. "All gunners to their stations! We cannot allow them to get a hold of this rig!" she orders.

The men and women working on the rig scurry to their stations and defense positions, taking up sniper rifles and firearms, some getting into positions with plasma cannons and machine guns. Two rocket launchers are also attached to the side of the rig, salvaged from Chinese warships. As a result, the platform is a good defense post as well as an oil rig, due to the fact it's located close to one of the islands that has been annexed a hundred years ago by the Confederation.

Kumar's eyes are hard as she watches the Panemian destroyers come closer, along with an oiler ship. No doubt to siphon the oil they were drilling for once the rig was taken over. But she as hell is not going to let that happen. "Fire a few rounds their way, but do not hit the ship, least of all the oiler! The last thing we need is an environmental disaster!" she cries.

"Yes, ma'am!" the defenders shout.

The workers not assigned to the defense of the rig are ordered to take shelter within the central column in case the gun battle started heating up. It is a risky move, as a pipeline that carries the oil to the island is there as well, but if the rest of the platform gets destroyed, that is fine. As long as the central pillar is intact, that's all that matters.

The overseer grips the railing with one hand and raises the radio in her other hand to her lips. "Port launcher, fire a single shot! Aim two degrees to the left of the destroyer and fifty meters off their bow!"

"Aye, ma'am! Two degrees left, fifty meters off bow, aye!" The launcher swings around, the man at the controls pressing the button. The rocket speeds out of the launcher, and arcs right for the destroyer. Or rather it would have, if not for the fact it's fifty meters off. The round slams into the water and detonates, sending a shockwave of water right for them. The wave smashes into the ship's bow, forcing it under slightly before it resurfaces. The damage is negligible, but it's the mere fact they have done such an act that prompts the destroyer to retreat while another aims its guns at the rig.

Kumar's eyes widen as she realizes what they are trying to do, and she snarls. "Not this time!" she hisses. She raises the radio again and spoke. "All right, guys! Let 'em fly!"

Sniper rifle rounds, Gatling gun rounds, plasma bolts, and grenades start to fly from the front and sides of the rig, a few even firing from the rear. Rockets fly from the rig in AA positions as the carrier starts to send hoverplanes their way; one of them is clearly outfitted as a transport to drop troops down onto the rig itself.

The sheer amount of firepower coming from the rig though forces the plane to back off, retreating as a few rockets shriek past its wings and engines. The destroyer is caught off guard by this move; they did not expect the rig to be so heavily defended. The information they have obtained from their officers has said that the rigs are lightly armed, not heavily defended like this! The ships begin to fall back, driven off by the firepower from the oil rig.

Kumar feels a smile tug at her lips, but she knows it's only a temporary reprieve. Panem is not one to back down that easily. It's only a matter of time before they try to attack the rig again. She shoots a glance back at a rig about fifty kilometers away, noting that one of the destroyers is attempting to sneak up on it. She switches frequencies and dials in. "Hey, Jacques! You got a destroyer coming off your six!" she calls.

"Thanks, mademoiselle!" Marin "Jacques" Blanchard remarks. He barks out an order in rapid French and as she raises her binoculars to get an idea of the situation on the other rig, dubbed Brotherhood for the familial atmosphere on board, intense plasma fire arcs down from the top of the rig as two RHIBs try to get close to launch grappling lines. They are forced to pull back and more plasma fire reaches up towards several hoverplanes.

"Damn bastards keep trying to take the rigs!" she hisses as she raises her radio again, this time speaking to her defense teams. "How much longer?" she asks.

"Not much more, ma'am! The Panemians appear to be hesitating about boarding the rigs. I think the President's little black project has made its debut!"

Kumar purses her lips. She has heard the rumors of a black project, but to hear it confirmed is something new. "What's it look like, Don?" she asks the man at the radar station.

Donald Williams gets back a moment later. "They're falling back for now, ma'am! But who knows when they'll strike again!"

The Indian Australian woman sighs wearily, watching through her binoculars at the ships now falling back, a profound sense of relief surging through her. Of course though, her gut tells her that they will be back. They always are.

To say Glamoure is pissed was an understatement.

She is absolutely livid.

The fact that the Australians have done this to her ship is absolutely unthinkable!

This new weapon they have introduced is clearly not something to be underestimated. For one thing, it's faster, more maneuverable, and can outclass many of their other weapons. She doubts even their strongest muttations can match this thing! The jet, if it can even be called that, hovers close to the bridge, the pilot clearly feeling proud of themselves.

Whatever this thing is, it has managed to cleave off her ship's radar array, cut the barrels of their three five inch gun turrets right off, and then dared to actually blast off her ship's propellers, leaving it virtually helpless. And now they have the gall to hover there as if saying they'd won! How dare they!

She grits her teeth and hisses. "You are going to pay for this, Australian!" she growls.

"Like I said, bitch. We're not playing around anymore. You try to take our resources, you pay. Now get out of my sight before I am forced to engage with more forceful measures," the President hisses.

She growls, but considering the circumstances, she has no choice. "Fine! But do not think this will go unnoticed!"

"I don't intend for that to be the case!" he grumbles. "Now leave! And don't come back!"

Location: Matthews House - Sydney, Australia

Time: 1700 hours

That evening Seph lays slumped on the couch, his head lolling back and his arm draped over his forehead. "Dammit... That was close..." he mutters. "Way too close..."

"I heard about what happened on the news," Tina remarks as she looks up from her laptop. "You took a big risk... You sure it was worth it?"

Seph shifts before he looks at his wife. "I'm not even sure... given recent events though, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Thankfully the rest of the machine's capabilities weren't revealed. But the beam sabers worked as intended. So I'm just glad that it wasn't fully revealed yet. The missiles also worked as intended."

"At least that's good news," Tina says looking back to her computer. She types in a few words before shifting it to show Seph the recent news reports.

"So, the blokes are pissed, huh?" he muses with a grin. Tina looks at him with an exasperated look.

"You think nearly having war declared on us is amusing?!" she blurts. She throws her hands up. "I can't even believe you!"

"Hey. It's not war if we don't sink a ship. And besides, it was all in self-defense. If they accuse us of attacking, I'll just explain that we resorted to self-defense, and that is that," Seph says, raising a hand to calm her down. "But right now, I need to take a break from this whole issue. Panem is just a pain in the ass!"

Tina frowns, but nods as she purses her lips. "Right..."

She goes back to her work and Seph sits up, finally flicking off the TV and turning to look out at the city's skyline. He really hopes that soon things will work out... Somehow.