Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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Charles

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Intro:

The human race is often violent, lashing out at each other for numerous things, whether it be greed or anger we fight each other, and we have done it on a HUGE scale. In the year 2025 WW3 broke out, countries lashed out as borders were remade and millions died of bombs and other deadly weapons. Devastation on levels unheard of was caused, whole countries seeing there infrastructure collapse. Anarchy spread across those countries unable to keep on to there holdings. WW4 ended 2040, and the year is now 2041. Out of the ashes of the old countries, rises many new ones, seeking to spread there power and influence across the Globe.

First Nation Action:

Sui Wungtzui was staring out his office window, across the great terraces that hold almost all of the empires food until what he thought to be a pesky soldier burst into his office, causing him to whip around.
"Ah, Wongtzi welcome back" He says in a dangerous and calm tone. "Just one question though." He pauses, "WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS COMING INTO MY OFFICE WITHOUT KNOCKING? THIS IS THE 3RD TIME TODAY!"
Wongtzi cowers and shakily says, "Sir, I saw this and knew you had to see." Wongtzi hurriedly opens a portable projector and aims it towards the wall. What came next left the Supreme Leader in awe.
"Is th-that... What I th-think it is?" he stuttered.
"Yes sir." the soldier says, solemnly.
"HOW DARE THEM!" the Supreme Leader roars. "CODE 7! RED ALERT! NATIONWIDE CRISIS! PREPARE THE DEFNESE FORCES!" He screams as he keys down the broadcast system.
"How could it be... I prepared for this! THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!" He roars. "No matter! These stupid rebels will pay! Go join your squad soldier! We will SQUASH THIS GOD DAMN REBELLION!" He screams as he slams his fist down onto his desk.
At that moment, a squad of Marines burst in to escort the leader to safety. The rebels had broken in to the Capital Building.
"THESE REBELS WILL PAY FOR THEIR CRIMES!" The Supreme Leader screams as he runs to the "heli-carrier" Which will keep him and up to 5 squads of soldiers safe in the air. He starts commanding soldiers over the comm as he boards the "heli-carrier."
"I need divisions Alpha and Charlie and a Marine Division to the Mongolian province NOW!" He screamed.

6 Months Later....

"My great people!" The Supreme Leader says addressing his population over the comms in everyone's pockets. "As you know, 6 months ago we had a Mongolian rebellion" pause, "and then we SQUASHED that rebellion with no mercy or remorse 1 week ago." pause, " Let this be a lesson. We will not tolerate more of this! We will not tolerate anything even relatively CLOSE! To this!" pause, "because of the cost of this war. Everyone's rations will be down by a quarter. I know, they are already low enough. But, we cannot survive through this otherwise! Our economy is currently completely downhill and our military has weakened in order to stabilize! But, this will take months! My people. This is your Supreme Leader, signing off."'

End Transmission.

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Hungary

Budapest


The rise of a note played over the radio, carried up and skyward on the string of a violin. A like a flock of doves, an entire orchestra took wing and flew to follow. With softly bending springs and the gentle pride of brass horns the concerto commenced, helping to drown out the soft, nearly inaudible hum of the car engine. Though it couldn't be called much a car, as it had no steering wheel or console for human input. Like so much a large smattering of things on the road there was little input by man in control of the vehicle as it through the roads of central Budapest. Traffic rolled on in its regular way on either side of the Hungarian central city just as it had in the century passed. In the early summer light the clean avenues of the city bore a striking homeliness.

Milo Silolti reclined back in the front seat of the car, thumbing through the news of a thin softpad. With a swipe of the hand the articles flew off to the side to be replaced by another in kind, and then slowly scanned with a drag of his scarred calloused fingers as it quickly skimmed the lines, getting a general look at what had been happening these passed few days. The scores of local sports games, broader geopolitical information, and entertainment drama from as far flung as Bollywood and Nigeria, that long held Hollywood in their shadows now these passed decades had passed. His lips curled down sourly as he skimmed over the trivial headlines and stopping to study the headier headlines from out of Asia. But eventually he passed them all by.

Milo had hardly time to return to local news before the car pulled to the side and with practiced care fit into a parking space. A light chime sang in the interior and Milo looked up to see he had arrived to his destination, an otherwise nondescript red-brick building with the sterile architectural flare to come out of the last gasps of the Warsaw Pact. A painted sign over the door, lit up with neon read, “Budapest Central Police District #1”. Milo shut off the soft pad and slid it into his jacket and stepped out into the sun.

Milo was an imposing figure, standing just over a solid six feet with a broad Hunnic face with small eyes that had simply been plucked into his face with a needle. Across a broad nose a pair of rimless glasses say just above a small scar that cut width-wide across. He had many more, but he hid those under his thick beard. It had been red once, but like the short combed over hair hanging above a back-sloping brow it was beginning to fade and traces of gray and white peppered his head.

With a wide gait he crossed the sidewalk and stepped inside.

Out of the traffic, it was easy to be reminded with how loud standing outside was. Even with so many motors running quietly on electricity the groan of rubber on pavement and the rattle of trucks became almost a backdrop to life in the city that only stood out when left-behind for some quieter corner, the library, a diner at downtown, or the central police department. As equally spartan inside as it was outside, the details of the building were no more unique as the concrete slab it stood on. Though the building has its scars, so did the rest of the city. The bullet holes patched quickly with cement, the fresh brick faces that contracted light vs dark where a bomb had gone off, or a shell pierced. Hell, there were even parts of the city still that stood as skeletons amid the backdrop for the stage show of slow as-needed urban reconstruction.

Seated at desks behind lightly frosted glass the various policemen – volunteers of even career volunteers the large part of them – sat at desks taking calls and doing light paperwork for the courts. It was said between all them that while the crime of necessity had been extinguished, the crime of passion still lived. It was broadly recognized that some people would need to keep their eyes out on the rest's back, or be a factor to removing some citizens for cool down. This was Milo's job, a disciplinarian called out to pull a drunk or wife-puncher from the streets, get them to court to be tried, and then see them sat down in a cell.

And also while it was that no one had their own desk per-say, among the house it was recognized some had their own spaces. Milo had his, a corner room where the windows looked out on the Danube, and the other an alley where the next building over was a lower apartment; an elderly man raised a small colony of pigeons there in a hut and he sometimes like to watch them fly about between smokes. And as day, it was empty and he stepped inside and made himself at home.

On the desk was already a folder with forms to fill out, in regards to an incident involving a suspected heroin addict and a tourist he had intervened in at the metro. As he sat down and pushed it aside to begin filling it out for the local court, he spied something it had been hiding. A small slip of folded paper. Setting aside the regularities he unfolded the small slip.

“Call came in, 05:43. Missing tourist. French girl. Speak with me, Imre.”

The corners of his mouth dropped down in a bitter frown as he thumbed the corner of the message. “Fucking tourists.” he whispered hoarsely as he set it aside and quickly went about finishing the court documents.

With the court documents finished he folded them back up into their folder and took them with him as he stepped out to find Imre.

In their own way, Tourists were the most complicating thing in the world of post-revolutionary Hungary. Young Bohemians from Western Europe, Asia, and the developed world coming to gawk in wonder at the first nation to have a settled government described as Anarchist. The successor to the legacies of the Catalonians in the thirties, the country's own uprising in the fifties, and of Kurdish Rojava thirty years earlier. Hungary was the remarkable country, it won and survived. Hungary was the terrifying country, it marked the possibility of total systemic change.

The misfortune to Hungary though was these tourists came into the country expecting punk-level anarchy. If they could get it, they'd race at high speeds through the country. If they have it, they think any sort of narcotic can be used or distributed. And if it was given to them there was a fear they'd start shooting something up. It was certain that the virgin tourist would become shocked and horrified to find the police were alive and well, and that the local worker's councils had worked out just what the fuck they didn't want. And the worker's unions on top of it. There was horrified shock to find an active judicial body, with a jury to convict them.

Because even with society-wide equality, no one still can pretend to be an untouchable billionaire.

Imre's office was at the top floor, and the only one recognized not just commonly, but on all the papers he was the station chief; union elected. His name was on the door, and from his transparent kingdom he looked out on the operations of the station from behind a desk of phones between the other stations and the popular councils of Budapest proper. His computer was always on to some recently received incident report or email, and if it couldn't be handled with that he was bent over the desk writing notes and letters out to the numerous officers that had put their trust in him.

He looked up quickly as Milo entered. Imre's eyes were dark and peerless and they glowered up sharply at him behind the large lenses of heavily rimmed spectacles. He was old, older than Milo and even more a military type from the days of the old fascist, reactionary government. He had remained trusted, and dutiful; ignoring the transfer of power over him like clouds passing in an overcast day. His sharp wrinkled features only hardened his stoic appearance. On some days, he looked like he had been left out in the sun too long, his face was blotching with liver spots and stains. Thick fingers heavily burned and stained from more than a life-time's worth of smoking.

“Got your message.” Milo said.

“I fucking well see that.” Chief Imre sputtered in a low crackling voice. He gestured out his hands to the seats infront of his desk. Sit down, he invited, we have a case to discuss.

“So some foreigner cunt went missing.” he said, dodging all ceremonial euphemism.

“You had no other option?” Milo asked. The question drew a sharp critical glare from Imre.

“Unless any of these shitters want to learn French in half an hour, I don't have any other choice.”

“French, really? Is it that bad.”

Imre grumbled, it was a heavy phlegmy growl from the very bottom of his gut. “Her name's Marie leParche. Some actress libertine. It wouldn't be a problem at all if she also wasn't the French financial minister's son's fiancee.”

“Why would she even be here?” Milo asked, perplexed.

“Because western children are shitters.” Imre groaned.

“Alright, so where she'd go missing at?”

“She and her friends are encamped at the old Prestige across the river. Way it came in over the phones she apparently went missing for an 'early morning walk' and never quiet got around to coming back. There's some men already there, they took their statements and are keeping an eye on them in case they start to leave. We need an investigator to speak with them and take their statements before they go.

“What do you want the case information in, hard form or soft form?” Imre finally asked, grunting.

“Soft.” Milo answered, tapping the pocket where his tablet had been stashed.

“I'll send you the link then and you can go over it on your way there.”
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Lauder
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Lauder The Tired One

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Vorehm

Silgo



Bang

The sound of a rifle rang through the air, soon followed by the sounds of other weapons discharging their munitions. Bodies slumped to the ground as the public execution was over just as quickly as it had seemed to have begun, finding a line of civilians who opposed the new order dead within seconds. Their rule was absolute, questioning it was a sentence to death. There were more executions to be had that day each a group of five as per the hierarchs orders. Military uniforms of the Vornehm soldiers marched the the streets, making their daily rounds.

“Call it in. Another five dead. Four old irish supporters and one Aldoran immigrant.” A soldier, Captain Ulysses Frederick, stated as he went over the list contained on a holo-pad in his hand. The soldier’s boots clicked on the ground as he walked away from the execution ground and faced the crowd which watched on. “Let this be a reminder that Empress and Emperor Kelly are not one’s whose rule is to be not to be questioned or disputed in any form. As citizens it is your duty to uphold the values of our nation such as loyalty and integrity, you may stay to watch the other executions or you may return to your daily activities good day,” the soldier droned as he stated the standard reminder per these executions.

With a sigh, Frederick returned to his squad and tapped a few buttons on the holo-pad. He disliked the executions but they were a necessity in order to keep the people in line and unquestioning. Luckily, his squad’s shift was done for now.

“Sir, we have received reports that Iceland has decided to become a part of the nation. Apparently, the local government had that, rather than risk war, they would sacrifice their independence as a people,” a courier reported as the hud display from his helmet disappeared, transferring the report to the captain.

“Interesting, let us hope that the Aldorans do not mind. Those scumbags better keep out of our business,” Frederick remarked as he scrolled down on his holo-pad discovering that the courier’s information was correct. The Empress and Emperor had been busy with their “diplomatic” duties with expanding the nation. Luckily there was no war for he knew that other nations may have very well gotten involved.

He thanked the courier before dismissing his men after they finished moving the bodies of those executed. Walking behind his squad to the barracks, he remembered that the war had ended just about one year ago and not much damage had come to the Vornehm nation. All he knew of the matter was that the leaders of their fine nation needed to increase internal stability, Frederick would happily follow orders so long as it meant his family could eat.

The captain sat at the table of the barracks, taking of his helmet and listening to the light hum as it powered off. Hopefully the days of the future would become better to where he could see his family again, that was all he wanted now.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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Aldoran

Pyongyang



"Sir, permission to speak?" A soldier says as he walks up to the Supreme Leader and salutes.
Sui lazily salutes back and says, "Granted"
"Sir, we have found the reported 20 Vorehm refugees." The soldier barks.
"Ah good, you know the procedure soldier." As he says this, he spins on his heel and walks away barking orders to other soldiers preparing for the broadcast.
"My people! our rivals the Vorehm continue to come into our nation! Fleeing from Vorehm's suppressing government! It is true that their government is corrupt, evil, and brainwashes people." pause, then a muttering among the crowd. "I have heard word of people thinking that MY government" pause, "Is twenty times more corrupt!" pause, " Well to this I say" pause, "YOU WILL BE EXECUTED TOO!" he shrieks. "IF I HEAR WORD OF THIS AGAIN. I WILL LOWER RATIONS BY HALF A PORTION! PUTTING THEM AT 1/10!! IF YOU TRY TO SPREAD DOUBT OR REBEL! I WILL STARVE YOU SCUM OUT OF MY NATION!" pause, "IS THAT CLEAAAR?" He roars.
All of a sudden everyone screams, "YES! SUPREME LEADER!"
Twenty people stand up and walk over to the usual firing ground.
"This Vorehm refugees knew the risk of coming into our great empire!" pause, "and they accepted that risk! They even tok EXTREME measures to AVOID that risk." pause, "and they failed" pause, "As you know, if they had succeeded for even a week longer they would have been allowed to live and be in our great empire! But, no, they failed. Now, they pay the price!" He chops his hand down.
Just then, there is the huge crackle of rifle fire as twenty people fall to the ground. Then, there is a great commotion as hundreds stand up and multiple people scream, "THEY HAVE GUNS!" and start to flee. The armed audience open fires and the leader behind cover screams, "NOW!" as he expected this, and thousands of soldiers standing behind the execution zone came out and open fired upon the now exposed militants. Now with all of them dead except for a few who were wounded, the leader got back up cheerily clicked his heels and said, "That was fun! Alright bring them back over here."
A soldier hurried to follow his order and handed the broadcast to Sui, "OK, it is safe now. Come back." The people started slowly coming back being checked by the newly appointed gate police for weapons. As the crowd filled back in Sui raised his hand for the antsy crowd and they fell silent.
"As you just saw our nation is out of control. We must stabilize our economy! I am now putting EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN CITY IN THIS EMPIRE!" pause for effect, "UNDER MARTIAL LAW! CURFEW 8:00 PM! ALL WEAPONS BESIDES BOWS, CROSSBOWS, AND SIMPLE POCKETKNIFES WILL BE TURNED IN TO THE MILITARY OR YOU WILL BE FINED AND PUT IN JAIL!" He roared, "AND EVERY GUN BELONGING TO CIVILIANS WILL BE THROWN INTO THE MILITARY STORAGE!" pause, "I AM APPOINTING 100 ROBOTS TO EACH CITY! THAT IS 150,000 ROBOTS IN TOTAL. I WILL APPOINT AS MANY SQUADS AND PLATOONS AS I NEED IN ORDER TO KEEP MY EMPIRE SAFE!" pause, "GOOD DAY!" He walks off stage and then remembers, grabbing the microphone again, "OH, AND ALSO! THOSE TWENTY VOREHM CITIZENS WE EXECUTED, THEY WERE ALL EITHER VOREHM CRIMINALS, DESERTERS, OR SPIES! THINK ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU TRY TO DESTROY MY BEAUTIFUL EMPIRE FOR DESPISING THEM!" Now, he drops the mic, walks off stage, and gets into the King's APC.
Back at the Capitiali (Capital Building), Sui is in his War Room planning expansion into new territory and sits down, groaning and muttering to himself.
"Why do I always play the bad guy?" He thinks, "It doesn't make me seem stronger, it makes me seem crueler and harsher." He thinks more for a couple of minutes, "You know what? That's it. No more Mr. Bad Guy." He gets up groaning. "Mrs. Wu!" he screams.
"Yes, Supreme Leader?" She asks.
"I've told you this before, but being the bad guy doesn't make me seem tougher or stronger only crueler and harsher. I am done being the Bad Guy, this nation needs a gentle, and kind, but firm ruler. I will now be that ruler. Proof is all of the rebellions and economy drops." he pauses in thought, "In fact, reopen tours of Capitiali, drop curfew, drop martial law, increase rations, attempt to improve relations with the Vorehm" he pauses, "HOWEVER hopeless it may be. But, I also request that you let the people have hunting level guns, drop intense security, and start restaurants up again instead of stalls on the street. This Empire will prosper, I don't care how I do it. As longas to my people. Ii am the nice guy. Anyway, I'm going to bed." He walks off to his bedroom leaving the secretary in awe with her mouth gaping and he was feeling relieved and fell asleep sounding unlike he usually does.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Iluvatar
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Iluvatar The British

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England




Winchester, District of Winchester, England

Reginald Craven, Prime Minister of England, sat in cabinet. The smooth, varnished surface of the conference table was cool to the touch, though Craven felt certain to pent-up tension in the room would shortly change that. To his left sat the Chancellor of the Exchequer, John Levis. On his right, the wide bulk of Isacc Forthright, Foreign Secretary, occupied a space significantly greater than his seat.

The paper in front of him said; 'War Plans'.

"We have developed several contingency plans for war against various potential threats, Prime Minister." began the Minister of Defence, Clark Smith, across the table. "The situation in Europe is largely stable at present - there are the French, of course, but their defeat against the Catalans last month has put an end to their ambitions at present. Calais is therefore secure. Nevertheless, we are prepared."

With that, the Defence Secretary produced a chart of the northern French coastline from somewhere within his briefcase. It looked almost like a board game, especially when Smith began placing various representations of units across the map, before proceeding to shift them around as he explained strategy. The process was repeated for wars against the Scottish clans, the Dutch principalities, even naval skirmishes against Vornehem.

The Prime Minister brought attention to that example.
"I recently received word from our embassy in Rekjavik that the Iri-, excuse me, 'Vornehem' intend to incorporate the island into their Empire. One of their Empress' ladies' maids is an agent of Queen Catherine, and has confirmed the rumour as true. It seems that the Icelanders have been intimidated into peacefully acquiescing to a Vornehem annexation."

There was an audible intake of breath from the cabinet. They knew as well as the Prime Minister that such an action directly threatened English interests, though the annulment of the Acts of Union after the collapse of the UK rendered the North Atlantic of less interest to England than it had been before.

"We shall not risk war with Vornehem over this matter, unless provoked." stated the PM. "Nevertheless, I have instructed our ambassador to lodge a formal diplomatic complaint. I have also ordered the Irish Sea Squadron reinforced in case of need. The Manx garrison will be strengthened in the coming weeks."

Then the Foreign Secretary spoke up.
"The Foreign Office has concluded that, in order to forestall any further increase in the power of Vornehem in and around the British Isles, it may become necessary to guarantee the independence of the various Scottish clans. A strengthening of our existing arrangement with the Bretons may also be of use."

"Quite." said the Home Secretary, Susan Amber. "We must be on our guard. The Vornehem are notorious for their interventionist nature, and may attempt to covertly destabilise the confederation of the English states. The competition between Yorkshire and Lancashire for influence in the Margraviate of Northumbria, for example, must be addressed before any foreign power chooses to take advantage of the controversy."

"I agree." replied the Prime Minister. "But it is time this meeting was adjourned. We shall reconvene at ten tomorrow morning. Ensure you are all ready to discuss these issues."

As he rose from the table, he patted the Foreign Secretary gently on the shoulder before smoothly exiting the room, pleased at the progress that had been made but concerned at the challenges to English interests.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Lauder
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Lauder The Tired One

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Vorehm

Dublin




“Ladies and Gentleman,” the voice of Empress Kelly addressed the small meeting of Vornehm officials, gathering their attention, “Operation Icepick is now a go. With Iceland incorporated into our folds, we might properly use it as a naval base should war go to Greenland or Scotland. Personally, I feel our first priority should be to help and stabilize Greenland. They have many materials we require and their hydroplants are state of the art, allowing us more energy.”

A second voice came from the other side of the room, Emperor Kelly, who spoke in a softer tone than his sister. “Yes, Greenland is economically important which is why we should advance with post haste so that we can control it while the English and the Aldoran are not gazing. Sadly, our window is small and we must get them to lose interest in us before we can expand our borders.”

A murmur came over the gathering, the admirals and generals discussing what best course of action should be taken considering what their leaders had said. One, Admiral Conley O'Donnell, voiced his concerns.

“What of the English? We must be prepared should war come to us. Surely you two do not intend to simply ignore them.” Conley stated, pulling up a map of the sliver of water that disconnect the English Island and the Vornehm Island. “I propose we begin constructing more ships to be stationed at that straight, as well as get more naval bombers to prevent any form of landing on the island.”

“Very well. Master Constructor, send word to the naval department to begin construction of at least three battlecruisers. As well, Officer Achilles, I want you to design a new naval bomber which will guarantee enemy ships to sink.” Empress Kelly, stated before sliding her hand across the table, an automated voice stating that the meeting was adjourned. The Empress rose to her feet and strolled out of the chamber as the officers went about their business as to not disappoint the hierarchs. Dressed in a pure white suit with a golden trim, the Empress made her way to her personal chambers.

A courier, dressed as abnormal soldier should be, intercepted her and held out a holopad to his Empress, giving a report of the situation. “My lady, the English have lodged a complaint against our annexation of Iceland. What is your response?”

The Empress thought to herself for a moment, coming to a conclusion. “Tell them that it has been noted. Tell them that such a thing should not be a cause for complaint since the annexation was in fact peaceful and of the Icelanders own will and should not worry of what we do so long as the Aldoranians remain as large and powerful as they do. That will be all.” She signed part of the holopad with her finger before handing it back to the courier who ran off to the Foreign Office to deliver the news.

The English, they would always be a thorn in the side of Vornehm so long as they took notice to the actions of their neighbor. However, war over something small would not be good for the international image. Soon she received word that the Aldoran would be sending a diplomat, only tightening a nought in her back.

Those people were worse than the English.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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Sui would stand with his hands behind his back staring out at the rice fields often. Only three weeks previously he had received word his diplomat had arrived and was pending at Vorehm. Only four weeks ago he had began to play the nice guy. At first the people were skeptical. Then, they warmed up to it and have enjoyed more luxurious and healthy lifestyles. More money had been put into the military and already only three weeks later the Aldorians had a new version of their current standard rifle and made it the new standard rifle of the military.
A knock on the door startled Sui who liked King instead of Supreme Leader now.
"Come in!" He called. The door slowly opened to reveal his generals.
"uh.." He stuttered trying to remember...
"OH! That's Right! Sorry people, hang on please." He said and went to get his files. As he left the room the people inside not hearing word of the new changes were in awe.
Sui walks back in clicking his heels as he goes, sits down, and starts off the meeting.
"Ok! Here goes! So, we have received word that the English have filed a formal complaint about the Vorehm annexation of Iceland. Thoughts?" pause, "Oh, as is shown by your faces you haven't heard. All of that bad guy stuff was a cover up to try and strengthen the nation." pause, "Not my brightest idea. Anyway, so thoughts on the annexation?"

General Song Wui was the first to recover and spoke up, " Well sir, this doesn't mean much to US because of our distance. But, I would suggest defending the Vorehm in order to improve relations as you say you would like to." The General says cautiously.
"Hm... Good Idea General Wui. But, come on guys, open up. After all, I'm gonna be leader for the next fifty years or so."
Admiral Shan Wai piped in next saying, "I agree with the general but, on a delightful note. The Bangladesh have decided to be peacefully annexed!" and then in a quieter tone, "After being secretly threatened multiple times." Everyone chuckles.
"Ok, how is the drone research going?" Sui asks.
Everyone falls silent. Sui starts frowning.
"You mean to tell me. We haven't made ANY progress? That was a top priority on the list." Sui said, getting louder.
"Sir, we literally couldn't go any higher than we have. It would take years to get more." The General of the newly founded Reconnaissance and Fighting Drone Division (RFDD) croaked.
"That's what I like to hear!" Sui cries happily. "Ok, also according to my report here, some of the other Middle Easterners have still refused to join us after being threatened?" Sui frowns.
"Yes sir, after many attempts at threats they still do not accept." the General of the Marines replied.
"To war it is then!" He said solemnly, we need more land whether it be barely farmable or lush, we need it." Sui says.
"Sir, if other nations demand a reason what do we tell them?" the General of the Defense Forces asks.
"Ok, Song Wui you are the press man. Tell them it is for oil, arable land, and in order to stabilize the region from all of the rebellions constantly going on there. I'm sure the other nations will believe it." Sui explains.
Sui reaches towards the button clocking out of the meeting and an automated voice signals the meetings end. Sui goes to the War Room to plan the war that he was about to declare. He squints at the holo-screen, colors Bangladesh green and then decides to simulate the war.
"Computer" Sui says loudly,
"Yes, my King?" An automated voice rings out.
"Give me an accurate simulation of what a war between my empire and ALL of the Middle Eastern nations would like look." Sui says.
"Yes, Of Course." The voice rings out again and then the holo-screen turns into a map of Asia and simulates the war.
"Hmmm... Very well. Thank You computer." Sui says, whipping around and going to his chambers to rest for the day.
"Of Course, My King" the voice says, turning off as it senses him leaving the room.

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Byrd Man
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Del Rio, Texas

Mark Rogers put the spurs to his horse and held tightly to the reigns. The bay-colored horse snorted and its hooves clopped against the dirt road that had once been Highway 21. It ran concurrent to the long bending road they once called an Interstate Highway. The interstate was still a mess of rusted cars and chunks of ripped up asphalt.

Mark gripped the horn of his saddle as the horse galloped over a hill and the town of Del Rio came into view. Its taller buildings were starting to crumble from the years of wear and tear, but the smaller buildings and homes were being kept up by the people of the town. With it being a small town, Del Rio didn't get the Crown's attention like a lot of the other bigger cities. They had only a few thousand here.

But now there was more, Mark thought to himself as he bounced in the saddle. Below him, a long line of trucks were rolling down the dirt road towards the city. A big billowing cloud of dirt and dust followed in their wake, Mark following after the dust.

He clicked his tongue and started the bay down the hill towards the town. Each truck held a half-dozen soldiers with full kit and equipment, along with duffel satchels. Mark saw the rifles sitting in each soldier's lap. He raced by the slow moving trucks until he came to the truck at the front of the line, already in the city and heading towards the center of town. Six soldiers watched him in the back while the driver looked straight ahead. Riding shotgun with him was a middle-aged man with silver crewcut and an eagle emblem on his collar. The truck came to a stop and idled as Mark maneuvered the horse towards the passenger who rolled the window down.

"Sheriff Mark Rodgers, Val Verde County," he said politely enough.

There were more than a few long looks his way. He expected that from people not from the area. Unless something ha recently changed, Mark was the only black sheriff in Texas. The Kingdom wasn't exactly the old South, and it sure as shit wasn't the old old South of the historyu books, but black people in positions of true authority were still rare in these parts.

"Sheriff," the man with the crew cut said with a curt nod. "I'm Colonel Alexander Jeffrey commander of the Royal Army's 31st Infantry."

Jeffrey reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper, gingerly passing it to Mark through the widnow. Mark glanced at it while he held on to his horse with just his legs.

"Signed by the Defense Minister," Mark said as he passed it back to Jeffrey.

"Yes, sir," replied Jeffrey. "Where's the best place we can make camp, Sheriff?"

"There's a space on the other side of town." Mark pointed straight ahead. "Just keep going straight and it'll be on your right. How many deep are you?"

"Two hundred are coming today," Jeffrey replied. "We expect to have another thousand encamped by week's end."

"We'll talk when y'all get settled." Mark tipped his hat. "Colonel."

"Sheriff."

Mark squeezed the horse's side with his legs and led his nag away from the wagon train at half-speed. The people of Del Rio were out on the street watching the line of soldiers riding through town. Plenty of eyes were on him too. He dismounted in front of Sammy's. Sam Calhoun stood in the doorway with a towel slung over his shoulder, the apron around his waist was spattered with eggs and bacon grease.

"What's going on, Mark?"

"Military is moving in for some goddamn reason," Mark said with a spit in the dirt. "Got official orders from Richmond that they're to camp outside of town for the foreseeable future."

"First you hear about this?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. I gotta send a letter to Austin to see what the hell is going on. Twelve hundred soldiers are coming into town and all I got is three deputies. Four if I include you."

Sam's face broke out in a grin. "If I want to be included. I'm only a reserve, sheriff. I don't know how I'll do if something happens..."

Mark put a hand on Sam's shoulder and laughed. "I'm sure you'll make all the difference if we have to face twelve hundred liquored up soldiers. Is Hobby in the back?"

"Washing dishes."

The two men went inside Sam's small diner. Most of the regulars had their eyes glued on the truck convoy going by outside. Sam went behind the counter while Mark sat down in front of it, his hand resting on the butt of his revolver on reflex. Hobby, the skinny and pimply kid who worked for Sam came out the back with gloves on.

"Sheriff?"

"Go run and find the mayor for me, son. Tell him to come to Sam's so we can talk."

Hobby shucked off his gloves and hurried out the diner. From behind the counter, Sam fixed a cup of coffee and passed it to Mark. The men kept eye contact as Mark took a long sip of the hot coffee.

"Say it," Mark said after he finished with his sip. "Say what you're thinking, Sam."

Sam shrugged his shoulders and wiped the counter with his rag. "I'm just thinking what you and everyone else in town is thinking. Soldiers in town, this close to the border, might mean more trouble than a couple of drunk privates fighting with towns folks. It could mean movements against folks south of here. You ready for that?"

"No," Mark said bluntly before taking another long sip. "But who the hell is?"
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Hungary

Budapest


Pocked with roughly patched holes, stained with the streaks of acid rain, and showing the age of years and a turning neglect from a high-class, businessmen and hotel of the old state allies the Prestige hotel carried on its shoulders the weight of change, anchoring to a time that continued to grow more distant through the months and years. But it was not wholly derelict and abandoned, and none of it made it ugly. It received its care through the days, it was still in use and the white face was bright in the afternoon sun despite the wear and tear. It stood not darkened, but illuminated and no pedestrian avoided it. The few visitors that used it – the tourists, miscellaneous travelers, and a few who lived in the hotel itself – passed in and out and around outside.

Stepping back out onto the curb Milo headed inside the hotel. The sounds of traffic was quietly replaced with ambient lobby music. “Detective Milo.” a voice called out from the corner.

Turning, Milo met with a young officer still in his unbroken, unstained blues. He looped hopefully up at him with a nervous small smile, “We got the call you were on your way...” he said, uncertainly, “I guess you want to talk to them then?”

“I would, thank you.” Milo answered, the officer gestured for him to follow and they walked through the old hotel.

The Prestige's old classical design shone even brighter on the inside than it did on the inside. The flourishing details of the 19th century style heady in its floors and walls. The main lobby was a a towering room, a deep rectangular shaft from floor to ceiling that opened in a skylight letting in the warm sun. The two men walked along the black-marble floors, their feet clacking as each foot fell. And throughout the halls posh velvety red and mahogany pieces of furniture taken straight from a catalog of Austrian-Hungarian design stood to decorate, or to wait for use in any of the many visitors or home-makers that took up in the old mansion; several couches in the halls were already in use, and the clothes of the man or the woman reclining there was an apt, easy-to-recognize distinguishing feature between resident and foreigner.

At stairs they ascended, and Milo was greeted by an additional officer as they came to a door. The second officer reached out for the door, and opened it. “Look out,” he said as he did, “One of them has been drinking.”

“It's 9:40 in the morning.” Milo said aghast.

“We know.”

Milo was immediately greeted on his entrance with the beat of some nameless electronic artist or another. His ears itched annoyingly as he stepped inside and his head was already hurting. And beyond the sensations that racked his head, he thought he could hear the low thumbing whops of a helicopter patrolling over head.

The three guests in the room sat or lay about in the room in various states of anxious disarray, distress, and at least half dress. Almost out of place a bulky, muscled gentlemen in black suit stood in the corner with his arms crossed, the left lens of his glasses glowing a soft blue. Milo and he exchanged quick looks, and the bodyguard gave an impassive shrug as he entered. It spoke volumes to him, “I feel your pain, buddy.” it seemed to say.

None of the other guests seemed to pay Milo any heed as he moved over to the stereo and rested his finger on the power button. Scanning the two young women and the one man on the bed he scowled and hit the switch. The music stopped. It had caught their attention.

“What the fuck was that, we were listening to that!” slurred the half-naked french man on the bed, he was thin with a lean athletic build and a deep caramel tan. His hair messy and eyes half covered with sagging purple lids.

“No.” Milo said, in French.

The disheveled young man sputtered angrily, and a late realization sparked in his expression and his tired bloodshot eyes sprung open. “Oh shit, did you find Adalene?” he exclaimed. He attempted to pull himself out of bed but lost his balance and pushed an empty champagne bottle off the sheets, crashing it on the wooden floors.

Milo leveled a hard critical look at him and then shook his head.

“No Pascal, he's here to ask about her!” snapped a woman lounging by the windows. She was naked save for the silk robe tied around her. Her hair looked to be at that stage of having been wet, but was left to air-dry without being brushed, it framed her narrow sharp-edge face in heavy ropes. A cigarette dipped from her lips as she scowled. “ You fuckers are as bad as home. And you can't do anything. We called four fucking hours ago and you're here to tell me you still haven't found her!?” she roared accusingly, her breasts rising and falling on each agitated breath. A shaking hand rose to her forehead and she messaged her temples.

Milo shrugged indifferently to her agitation. It wasn't something particularly new to him at this point. “We've been trying.” Milo consoled indifferently, “Our patrolmen have been searching the area for any sign of her. I'm here to do a follow up on what they have and to start tracking her down.”

“Oh, so you fucks can keep holding your dicks in your hand? Yea, good luck with that.” the robed woman spat, “Listen, if our home wasn't in such deep shit now we'd have your ASSES!” she shouted.

“Shut the fuck up.” Milo shot back in a quiet stinging tone, “Play along and make this painless. Because I can just leave right here and right now. Free country.”

The robbed woman chewed on that for a while, and resigned herself from it, laying her head back as she exhaled a long gray cloud at the ceiling. Milo took that as his signal to go. “First, I'd like to know who you are, your relationship with Adalene.” he started, in truth it was all in the reports but he felt safe to confirm it first taking out his softpad and turning it on.

“Let's start with you, sir.” he invited, looking up at the man on the bed. “Pascal Martin?”

He nodded, “It was Pascala.” he corrected softly, and Martin looked up back at him to see if he was joking, then back down to make a quick correction. “I'm a friend of Adalene's, from the college days. Most of us here all, except for Kamille.”

“Whose Kamille?” Milo asked.

Pascal pointed to the young blonde girl besides the robed woman's chair, with her legs pulled up against her she hid her chin behind her knees. She looked to be about nineteen. “She's actually Adalene's cousin's girlfriend, the two got along well. She hoped she'd get her into modeling someday.

“Right.” Milo acknowledged.

“And I'm Daisi, Adalene and I knew each other since we were kids in Pairis.” she reported in a long droning tone of voice. “But how is this relevant, you asking just to torture us?” she asked, accusation back in her tone of voice like venomous barbs.

Milo didn't entreat her with a response. “So, why are we in Hungary?” he asked them, leaving the question open. And again it was Pascal to answer.

“We wanted to see what is possibly the last free country on the planet.” he answered, “All things considered and all.”

“Yes, that's what everyone says. But I honestly don't talk to anyone lounging around in their hotel rooms half naked.” he said with a snarky bite of his own, “So, why are you here?”

The question hung awkwardly on the air. “We were looking for a good time.” Kamille said nervously from the floor. Milo looked down at her with a cocked-brow expression.

“Do explain.” he asked.

Daisi grumbled annoyed and distraught, like having been caught red-handed by her parents. But that somehow she still hoped to escape. When no one explained Milo pressed the question again, orbiting away from the sound system. He looked up at their body-guard but he gave them a “sworn not to tell” look.

“We thought we could get anything, everything we wanted here.” Pascal blurted out, his voice hitching on a high note as he quite literally coughed the admission up. “LSD, skyrocket, cocaine. No one would be watching us here, we can do fuck all!”

“Well guess what, someone is watching.” Milo said, “Enough councils have passed prohibitions they're banned across the country. I can nail all three of you here on use charges. But I won't, because it's a fucking waste of my time. You're just going to tell me about your friend is and then get the fuck out.” he spat dejectedly, “And then tell your friends to stop coming to my home to shoot up your shit. You got it?”

Pascal nodded, Kamille mumbled a muffled 'ok', and Daisi stayed bitterly silent.

“So, what happened. What happened that night?”

“Well, we had just come back from a club...” Pascal began, nervously, “In a warehouse... On the north side of the city... By the river.” Milo nodded, “There'd been some drinks, some blow. Adalene thought she would go out for a swim when we made it back to the hotel.”

“How'd you make it back?” asked Milo.

“Those driver-less Taxi deals. Adalene was too afraid of hailing a driven Taxi, she's never trusted drivers.” Milo had to rule that out, as he continued, “We told her the pool might be closed by the time we get back, it was late, maybe a quarter passed two. But she didn't care.”

Pascal stopped, looking up at Milo. He impatiently waved for him to continue, “Well, I guess that didn't matter to her. She stepped out anyways.”

“She told me she was going to swim the Danube.” Daisi said quietly.

Milo nodded, free country and all. “Were you all up here in the room when she left?”

Pascal nodded, “I've been awake all night waiting... A lot of coffee...” he trailed off. Milo looked down at the smashed champagne bottle, and drunk he thought. The guy was probably living through the real time onset of a hangover. Milo absentmindedly wondered what other stimulate it was on that kept him moving.

“Does Adalene have any distinctive marks or anything that would help me identify her?” asked Milo.

“She has a tattoo of a rose between her shoulders.” Pascal said, “And a bit of scripture on her left ass.”

Milo nodded, knowing he probably wouldn't get the chance to check the later unless she was found in a bathing suit. But she was French, and if she thought the whole country was the Riviera it could go either way. “Well, I'll have to do some asking around. But I'm going to have to ask you try not to leave the country and for you to keep in touch. If you get any word about her from anyone, pass it along so it can get to me. We'll be seeing each other again.” he said, tipping his head and headed for the door.

“Get the hotel staff?” asked one of the patrolmen as they left the room behind.

“Yes, one of them will know what direction she went.”
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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"Sir, we are two days into the war. Already one nation has surrendered because of how small they are. The others have united and are currently fighting our Marines as our main Army heads out." A soldier says while Sui stares at the holo-screen depicting the battle.
"Hmm... Our left flank looks a bit weak. Reinforce it with one thousand." Sui commands.
"Yes sir" the solider executes the command and at that exact moment the left flank is surprised by the enemy and it's destroyed.
"DAMNIT! Make that ten thousand and on the double!" Sui screeches.
"Yes sir!" the soldier executes and men are there in an hour engaging the enemy troops.
"You know what to do." He says to his strategist as he walks out crisply.

"OK! We have found more Vorehm immigrants and some more people guilty of treason I assume?" Sui asks.
"Yes sir, we also have some people here who tried to steal military vehicles." A soldier barks.
"Hmph, send the thieves to prison for five years, the ones who committed treason to death, and the immigrants in the new holding cell until Vorehm decides to pick them up." Sui commands. With this new method people liked the justice system more and thre Vorehm weren't constantly riding his ass for killing their people. He had over five thousand Vorehm immigrants in holding cells waiting in just a couple days of hunting. Sui crisply walked away and got into the King's APC and went to the next scene of a crime.
"Sir, we have received word of fifty people abusing their food rations cards.
"Then, let's go." HE said.
They arrived and he got out of the APC slowly and walked over to the line of people.
"Hello, I understand this is a small crime for the King's presence but I want you to understand just as an example you have to be sentenced to three years of prison each." He said crisply. "Good Day" he got back in the APC and heard gunshots, he looks over and sees all fifty of them lying on the ground, bleeding. He quickly open the car door and screams< "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? I SENTENCED THEM TO PRISON NOT DEATH! DO YOU KNOW THE SHIT STORM YOU JUST CAUSED?"
He pulls out his APG .92 and aims it at the commander.
"You fucking shit." HE screams.
He fires a bullet into the commanders skull and goes to the APC heading back to the Capitiliai and goes to bed in his chamber.

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Lauder
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Lauder The Tired One

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Vornehm

Dublin




With the war being declared upon the Middle Eastern states by the Aldoranians, it brought about major uproar within the Vornehm government considering the aggressiveness of those people and that they were jeopardizing Vornehm business interests. The war was simply one that the Vornehm people could not ignore, finding that the size of Aldoran mattered not if they would attack another nation with such an outrageous reason of ‘We need Oil’.

Two hours passed since the people of Vornehm convened once more to begin strategizing and debating on whether they would get involved within this war or not, the Emperor has come to give a speech worldwide.

“These are troubling times, only one year has passed since the last Great War and the Aldoran dogs have already gone to declare war upon all of Middle East in the name of gaining more strategic resources. I say, Aldoran is large enough! They already control large sums of land such as Old China, Mongolia, and Korea. The leader of Aldoran fails to acknowledge their own aggressive expansion, he fails to understand that the world shall take notice to his actions, and he fails to realize that the world can see that his weak claim on the Middle East. He shall find that we shall not sit idly by as he goes and conquers those he does not have proper claims on.

How can we stand as people, fellow humans, if we were to allow this crude mistreatment of others? This is why I am going to state that we are cutting any and all diplomatic ties with the Aldoran nation until this war is ended. Additionally, we insist that other nations follow in what we shall do. This international matter can not simply go unacknowledged. Thank you for your time.”

Behind the scenes matters were being dealt with such as the arrangement of ten thousand rifleman to be sent abroad to aid the Middle Eastern states as well as sending supplies to the area. Ten submarines were already inbound to begin intercepting Andolan transports and sink them, preventing reinforcement for a short time. Meanwhile, the rest of the navy geared up and got their equipment checked, pending on orders from the Vornehm command chain as to what would be the proper course of action within the war.

The Empress, herself, was making arrangements to meet with the English government in an attempt to improve diplomatic relations among other things. She knew the English were sensible people, knowing they would listen to reason. The English, as well, were the closest neighbor to the Vornehm islands and their borders needed to be secured.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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King Sui watches this speech and laughs in his chamber.
"My turn" he thinks.

Aldoran
Hong Kong


"My great nation! I'm sure thanks to the new lifting of the television laws many of you have seen the Vornehm leader's speech. But, they call us ALL "dogs" they call us all evil! And for WHAT? I say! Trying to calm down the rebellions that the incapable Middle Eastern governments obviously CANNOT? Sure, I said we needed oil, and we do! BUT, that is not the main reason we have declared war! We will bring PEACE and PROSPERITY to a land that cannot give that! We are not backing out of this war! If Vornehm, The English, ANYONE! tries to cut ties with us, GO AHEAD I SAY! It will achieve nothing but false reasoning! We will make the Middle East a prosperous region like in ancient times ONCE AGAIN!" He roars and pounds his fist on the podium. The crowd cheers and whistles for the King. He had always had a knack for speeches.
Back at the Capitiliai the King is in his War Room directing the war once more. He decides to push forward in the North and slightly in the South urging them to push in the middle to fall into his trap. They do what he wants and he laughs at the horrible strategist on the other side. Just that mistake took four thousand people. Only five hundred even dying! The others surrendered.

"Ah, Mr. Shoing I see we're back at this again. Chasing a high value prisoner across the empire isn't fun I can tell you that and sadly, you know the rules for Vornehm citizens who avoid their sentence three times or more. I'm sorry. I was beginning to like you." At that moment Sui pulls out his APG .98 again, points it slowly at the prisoners skull and fires two shots.
"*Sigh* I really don't like doing or watching that. Ok, time to travel to Russia for my meeting with the new Dictator in order to keep up our puny alliance.

New Russian Empire
Moscow


"Ol' Ruska! I see your getting along in your newly owned country well!" Sui says greeting the new leader.
"Well yes, it's quite stressful though." He says frowning,
"Of Course it is! You're ruling two hundred million people!" Sui protests,
"This is true! So, how are things on the Western front and with the Europeans?" The new leader asks.
"Well, the front is doing well, we have lost fifty thousand and they have lost one hundred and sixty seven thousand and then the Europeans," at this he raised his hand to his mouth like it was a secret when it really wasn't, "Well, like usual, they're pissed at me for no valid reason." Sui says.
After a lot more talking and drinking the new leader says,
"I know you will get angry, but I wish to end our alliance." The new leader snaps his hands and all of his guards get up to escort Sui out. Su raises his hands in surrender and walks out, sent off with a friendly goodbye that he doesn't return and he gets into the King's APC followed by an escort of fifty soldiers. He arrives back at the capital building and sees the diplomat he sent to Vornehm who shakes his head,
"Not surprised." the King says and then, "Oh yeah, and you can take the next week off. That trip and those Vornehm people had to have been tiring." Sui remarks with a smirk. The diplomat just nods with a slight rise of his lips and walks off. Sui goes to his chambers.

and falls asleep.

Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by BingTheWing
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Republic of Judea


New Ilya, Palestine province - formerly Tel-Aviv, Israel




"Mama, why mustn't we tell anyone about Imam Ahmed's prayers?"

"Hush, child." Mama turned on the stove. "And don't call him imam. We don't want the big men with guns to know he's an imam, do we, Aziz?"

"No, mama, but-"

Mama bent down and placed a single finger on the lips of her 8-year-old child. "It's because, when the big men came, they would take away all the imams and rabbis to a dark, dark, place. Then they would not let the imams and rabbis go, even for many, many years, and only fed them on tabbouleh! You know how much you dislike tabbouleh, don't you, little Aziz?"

"Yes, mama."

Mama still felt the child's confusion. "Now go and play outside. Come on. Come on." With a little pat on the buttocks, Mama ushered her son outside to forget himself.

Aziz still had so many questions. Why did they only read their Koran at night? Why did Mama seem so scared when the big men came to search the house? Why did she yell and slap him when he told his friends at daycare that he was Muslim?

Such matters whirled around in Aziz's little mind as he went off to play. As he met up with his friends and played tag in the marketplace, the details of his earlier conversation seemed to disappear. Suddenly, he collided with someone's leg.

"Watch where you're going, comrade!"

Aziz looked up and saw four men three times taller than him. They had khaki pants and shirts, and big brown guns that everyone called eki. He heard that they could massacre ten men in eight seconds. There was a big, brown-eyed man at the front - he seemed to be the leader - and a pointy-nosed, skinny man at his side. Aziz didn't like the look of either of them.

"Here, comrade. Can you tell us where Mr. Ahmed al-Nauri lives?"

Aziz was about to answer when he remembered what Mama said. He didn't want Imam Ahmed to be sent to the dark place. He liked Imam Ahmed! He liked going on Fridays to worship Allah! He wouldn't turn them over to the big men.

"Well, comrade?"

"Ah, um, I don't know, comrade brother." Aziz gulped. "I don't know where he lives."

The big man seemed to pierce his souls with his big, deep, dark brown eyes. He bent down, moving his head so close to Aziz's face that he could smell the tabbouleh he had for breakfast.

"Really, comrade."

"I told you, I don't know!"

Aziz felt a mighty slap on his cheek, harder than Baba's. His vision went blurry for a full two seconds. When he came to his senses, he was lying on the floor. Aziz saw the deep brown eyes, now aflame with rage, pierce into his soul again.

"Insolent boy! The Republic has no need of brats like you."

Aziz felt the dust get into his ears as the heavy boots of the big men marched past him. They questioned another boy - Sadi, the Zionist - and got the answer they wanted. Aziz wanted to beat him to a pulp.

He ran home in tears.

But when he collided into Mama, the embrace he felt was not one of welcome - it was one of fear. Aziz felt nails dig into his skin as Mama whisked him inside.

Mama was screaming. "You stupid boy, I told you not to talk to the big men!" She launched into a rage and began attacking Aziz with anything that could fit in her hand. "I told you, I told you, I told you!"

"Mama! Mama!" Aziz ran to the other side of the room to explain himself. "Mama, it wasn't me, it was Sadi, it was Sadi-"

Gunshots broke off Aziz's sentence. Mama screamed again and held Aziz tightly against her legs. Aziz managed to break free and forced his head around to look outside the window just as the big men were finished dragging Imam Ahmed out of his house. The pointy-nosed man was holding Imam Ahmed's Koran and jeering. Aziz hated him. Aziz hated him so much.

Then Aziz saw the brown-eyed man's gun.

"Death to all religious ministers, who seek to mislead the people and pit brother against brother!"

"Death to the false leader!"

"Just do it here brother, now, to set an example!"

"Glory to the Revolution! Glory to al-Dalayah!"

All he heard were Mama's screams, the spattering of blood, and the frail body of Imam Ahmed being dragged away by the big men.
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Byrd Man
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Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro

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Charleston, South Carolina

Commander Jerry Hunley stood on the bridge of the HMS Palmetto Rose and looked out across Charleston harbor at the old wreck of Fort Sumter. He'd read about the conflict in the history books, back before the Kingdom was the Confederate States and they fought for something much more terrible than simply king and country. Maybe it was an ominous spot to launch the Rose. The ship was a light cruiser and part of the Royal Navy's 2nd Fleet, responsible for protecting the Kingdom's shores from the tip of Florida all the way up to the Virginia Coast.

Jerry had worked as a junior officer and XO before, but never as a skipper. All told three hunded and forty men crewed the Rose and got her out to sea. He was responsible for the lives of those men and keeping them safe. Their mission wasn't the most dangerous, but it wasn't certainly a cruise down the coast.

"Skipper," Lieutenant Sturgeon, Jerry's XO, said with a salute. "It seems all men are accounted for. Orders?"

"I'll do that," Jerry said as he started towards the helm and the PA system there. "I'll give them a talk."

"Now hear this!" The CO announced into the microphone, broadcasting speakers across the ship.

"Men," Jerry said with an easy smile to himself. "Welcome to the HMS Palmetto Rose, your new home. I'm Commander Hunley and I am your skipper. Our mission involves pirates. Reports have them harassing ships around the Outer Banks. The Navy wants us out there to flex a little Royal muscle. We're to patrol, find, and take out any pirate vessels we encounter. Let's show them what this ship can do. Make ready to shove off."

Lieutenant Sturgeon disappeared beneath deck barking orders while Jerry found the skipper's seat on the bridge. Ten minutes later the Rose was under way across Charleston Harbor headed out to see. The ship fired a one-gun salute as it passed old Fort Sumter.

"What's our heading, sir," Helmsman Price asked once they cleared the harbor.

"Set a course north," Jerry said with a grin. "Keep the coastline in sight, but steady on towards North Carolina. Let's see what kind of trouble we can cause."
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by BingTheWing
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Gaza, Palestine province

Palace of the Republic




President Youssef al-Naoud was pacing around his desk again. He always did that, especially when so much was going on inside his head. To him, ideas in his head were like gas particles in a container, or like ricocheting bullets - always on the move, never stopping, colliding constantly with his skull.

"Mr. President?"

"Ah!" Youssef was abruptly thrown out of his intellectual reverie when a small, diminutive woman in a red blazer appeared at his door clutching a thin folder.

"Aliyah, Aliyah! Come in. What is it, dear?"

"Aldoran has invaded the Turkestani states, sir." Aliyah handed the folder to the President as his eyebrows went up.

"But that is unacceptable. We have economic interests in that region."

"Vorehm has condemned the invasion, sir, and has sent troops to aid the rebel groups."

"No, no, no, no." The 65-year-old sat down and buried his face in his hands. The day had just started and the world was falling apart already. "We already have trade ties and numerous economic grants with the Turkestani Union. Without their help, we would have never gotten this country on its feet. Contrary to what those buffoons in parliament say, the military alone will not support this fledgling country. I was there during the war, when we took Beirut, and the men we have now aren't half the warriors we were then. Draft a statement of condemnation immediately. Judea will not stand for this."

"Right away, sir. Oh, and one more thing."

"What?"

"Just the other day, sir, in New Ilya, the police shot an imam. In a public market. The people are... somewhat discontent with this form of discipline, sir."

Youssef rubbed his eyes and temples and exhaled deeply.

"Why was he not sent to a reeducation center?"

"The chief of police there, sir, his name is Abdul Shahmeni. He's a hardcore atheist, sir, and has encouraged a sort of... vigilantism among the ranks."

"Appoint a meeting with him immediately. If this continues, the people will see these religious leaders not as misguided people but martyrs. This country is falling apa--Aliyah, what is that?"

Aliyah grasped her hijab tightly.

"I told you, no religious symbols in the palace."

"Sir, this--"

"Oh, don't tell me you believe in God." Youssef stood up in his seat, with a fire in his eyes Aliyah had never seen before.

"I would n-never, sir! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Give me that."

"Sir?"

"I said give it."

Reluctantly, Aliyah pulled her hijab off her head, letting her curly locks fall to the ground, and handed over the bundle of cloth to Youssef, who took it from her with an abrupt snatch. After a few more seconds, the president spoke in an oddly fierce tone.

"I know your father was an imam, Aliyah, and an ardent Palestinian nationalist, but he has since been reeducated and reformed to serve the Republic. Cultural identity has no place in this country. It is a sense of entitlement, the selfish need to tout your nationality, that caused the great split between the Palestinians and the Zionists. You are neither a Palestinian nor a Muslim, Aliyah, but a Judean. Never forget that."

Aliyah stood silent with her head bowed. "Yes, sir."

"Now go, and draft that statement. Schedule a meeting with the New Ilyan police chief."

"At once, sir."

Aliyah found herself outside the great big cedar doors of the Presidential Office, with two assignments to do and a mental reminder to buy a hair band.




The Republic of Judea officially condemns the recent Aldoranian military interventions in the Turkestani Union. Such measures will not serve to stabilize the region, but rather will be the cause of its further spiral into chaos and instability. The recent world war is still fresh in the minds of many all around the world. Would Aldoran want to destroy yet more lives in this meaningless, yet avoidable conflict? We strongly urge the withdrawal of all foreign troops in the area, and war reparations for damage done.

As for any potential Vornehm activities to aid or arm the rebel groups within Turkestan, your actions are well-intended, but ultimately destructive and unhelpful. Do not escalate the situation.

Glory to al-Dalayah. Let us push for peace.

- Office of the President, Palace of the Republic, Republic of Judea

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Lauder
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The submarine known as the V.S. Lighting, made it’s way out of the Suez Canal and into the Red Sea before a message forced it’s way to the bridge, a withdrawal of the force sent to aid the Turkestani Union by request of the Republic of Judea. A disgusted look came from the captain of the ship, disliking that the fleet had come this far just to be sent back to the homeland because one nation disliked the idea of Vornehm intervention. He stroked his grey-beard, attempting to identify what to do in this situation, knowing that what he did would no doubt determine how Vornehm would participate within this affair.

“Captain, the others are asking what we should do,” reported an ensign, turning her chair to face the captain. Time was running out in to decide what to do before the others would begin their voyage back to the Motherland.

A minute passed in silence, the crewmen awaiting their orders. “Full steam ahead. We will continue with our original orders, it is not as if anyone will notice us,” the gruff voice of the captain stated, a smile that only a native Vornehm man could produce. He would bring glory and honor to his people by defending the weak… in the name Vornehm business interested, despite they would have to work in the dark and would be classified as traitors for until this war was over.

“Full steam ahead, ladies and gents,” he stated once more, hands behind his back as the fleet of submarines descended into the depths of the Red Sea. The other nine followed out of loyalty to the cause, not so easily dissuaded by the request of a singular people. “A.I. prepare response to the Grand Admiral.”

“Aye, captain,” stated the monotonous voice of the A.I., deep in nature.

“Grand Admiral, while I appreciate your want to avoid any bad relations with the Republic of Judea, I will stand idly by as Vornehm business interests are subjected to Aldoran law. Court martial when I return home if you must, but I will continue by my original orders along with nine others. Good day to you, sir. Hail the Empress and Emperor,” with the closing statement, the A.I. sent the message up the chain of command.

“What are your thoughts, captain?”

“We either complete our mission or we die being tortured by our kinsmen. I suggest we do this to the best of our abilities.”
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Iluvatar
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England




Canterbury, Kent, England

The Archbishop of Canterbury sat in council with the Governor-General of the Kingdom of Kent. The two men formed the duumvirate that governed the English province in the name of the King, and dealt with all the internal issues of the constituent country of the English Confederation. While the Archbishop was appointed by the Church of England, the Governor-General was elected by the Kentish people and led the Conservative Party of the Kentish Parliament.

"This troop levy is most concerning." said the Governor-General. "It seems the Prime Minister is concerned about the security of the west coast since the Vornehem played their hand in Iceland. The numbers they request seem rather large for such a purpose, however."

The Archbishop nodded in agreement. "Indeed they would be, for that purpose. However, I learned through the Bishop of Winchester that the rapid expansion of Aldoran into central Asia and the Middle East has also prompted this move. If Aldoran is not stopped before long, what is to stop the ancient Mongol Empire reforming? All Christendom is in peril."

"Well, we may not want for allies long, in that case." replied the Governor-General. "The government notification states that the King and the Prime Minister are willing to accept a meeting with representatives from Vornehem. Perhaps a joint task force could be deployed to Persia to protect the oil wells there?"

"It would certainly explain the extra troops demanded."

"Indeed."
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Charles
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Turkistani Union
Afghanistan Province, Kabul

Captain Lui screamed into his mic as the battle raged on,
"We need reinforcements! Right flank! We're pinned down! We've lost over 100!" He unweed the mic as the Afghan troops led a charge while others follow with a few Europeans mixed in there from Vornehm. Lui screams at his troops,
"HOLD! WE NEED TO WAIT FOR BACKUP!" Lui raises his AK-92 and aims at the enemy. He fires a short burst seeing three enemies fall.
"SOLDIER!" His mic screams. Lui keys his mic taking cover,
"What is it?" He screams over the noise of the battle while blind firing his rifle.
"We have received word from Vornehm and word from Judea to stop fighting. The enemy is getting this exact call right now." The voice screamed.
"WHO IS THIS?" He yells, but he stops firing.
"This is King Wui and I am asking you to stop fighting." Wui said.
"Ooh Shit! Yes sir!" Lui screams. He then gets on the other frequency and screams at his men,
"CEASE FIRE!"
They stare at him like he is insane but follow his order. The enemy stops firing almost at the same time. Lui switches back to the command's frequency,
"Ok! Now what My King?"
'Pull out we are going to try to negotiate a peace treaty with the Turkistani Union!" Wui says.
"Yes sir!" Lui barks, "MOVE OUT! KEEP AN EYE ON THE ENEMY, BUT MOVE OUT! WE ARE GOING TO TRY AND START A PEACE NEGOTIATION!"
One of Lui's soldiers flat out refuses to follow the order and Lui tilts his head quizzically.
"Problem soldier?" Lui asks dangerously calm.
"Damn right! I didn't lose my goddamn friends just to negotiate a treaty, these son of a bitches are gonna die!" The soldier screams.
"Interesting, while I see your point I gave a direct order," There was a short pause as Lui transitioned, " AND YOU BETTER DAMN WELL FOLLOW THAT ORDER SOLDIER OR I WILL COURT MARTIAL YOU!"
"No goddamnit!" the soldier yells.
"WELL THEN WE GOT A PROBLEM!" Lui screams as he raises his rifle and shoots a three bullet burst into the soldier's chest. The soldier falls to the ground screaming and gasping.
"ANYONE MORE MEN WITH A GUSTO TO CONTINUE?" Lui screams. Everyone shakes their heads and keeps moving back to the King's Empire while the enemy troops head back to their stations.

Aldoran
Hong Kong, Chinese Province


"Sir, we have requested that Vornehm, Judea, and if they wish to, the English all come to Hong Kong in order to discuss a peace treaty." Wui secretary says over the phone,
"Ah! Good, Good, I epect they will accept hoping to end the war quickly. Tell them the meeting will be April 17 at 5:00 P.M Aldoran time." (1 week from this day in the RP)
"Yes sir!" The secretary says and hangs ups. She then proceeds to call up the Vornehm, English and Judea contacts in the lists and tell them the meeting day and time.

Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by BingTheWing
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Palace of the Republic




"Mr. President, we must set an example in public, not behind bars where the people are not intimidated!"

"That is not the point of your duty, Chief Shahmeni. By committing such barbaric acts, you make these false prophets into martyrs and inflame in the people the poison of extremism. This is my last warning. You are dismissed."

"Mr. President-"

"You are dismissed."

The bulky, bearded Palestinian reluctantly saluted, put on his cap, and turned to leave Youssef's office. As Chief Shahmeni exited, Aliyah entered wih her hair tied in a bun.

"Sir, the Aldoranians have summoned you to peace talks in Turkestan. Vornehm will also be there."

"Finally, they see reason," Youssef sighed. "Pack my things."




Damascus, Syria province




"Did you hear about the imam in New Ilya the other day?"

"Yeah. They got a rabbi here too. Beat him with gun stocks in front of my aunt."

"It's a pandemic!"

"No. The revolution still hasn't faded away in many people's hearts."

"This is absolutely the wrong way to go about things-"

Rahim let Fadi drone on as both of them walked to school. Rahim wasn't big on talking. It was with himself, with his drones, wires, and circuit boards, that he felt rejuvenated. He was named after Judea's national hero, whose bespectacled portrait hung in an impeccably dusted mantel of his two-story home. He liked remaining where things were. Change upset Rahim. Change upset the meticulously balanced scale that was his life.

Meanwhile, Fadi was different. He was radical about change. Wanted to go into political science, work for the state-run press, maybe get into parliament. Change, according to Fadi, was the only way Judea could survive with such a radical ideology. Change was Fadi's watchword. Stability was Rahim's.

"We should really organize a student activist group--hey, are you even listening?"

"Quiet. There's a drone patrol here."

The two seventeen-year-olds stood back as a large quadrocopter drone with rotors as long as Rahim's forearm crossed the street in front of them, followed by two robotic infantry battle scout androids brandishing AKX-78s. All three robots were clad in intimidating black reinforced carbon plate. The quadrocopter emitted a low, choppy hum that made everyone in the public market take a step back.

Fadi's brows furrowed. "Why so much security for a little market?"

"Routine experimental testing." Rahim's mouth was watering. "Imagine the specs on that thing!"

"Is that all you ever talk about, specs and electronics? Think of the political implications! Judea cannot rely on authoritarianism forever to push for a stateless society. We-"

"Hush." Rahim began to jog. "Race you to school?"

Fadi sighed. "Sure."
Hidden 7 yrs ago Post by Dinh AaronMk
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Dinh AaronMk my beloved (french coded)

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Rural Hungary, former Hungarian-Romanian border

Outside Gyula


“I can tell you, you are not a particularly easy man to find.” smiled the reporter as he walked up the gravel foot path from the road, where a several decades old blue sedan sat parked by the road. In the shade of the veranda out front of an old log-cut farm house a middle-aged man in a wide brimmed hat and casual working slacks with the neck cut in a V leaned in his chair and smiled, showing his white teeth in a wide warm grin as he sat up to greet the foreign visitor.

The foreigner, middle height and with an average build was a blonde man with a wide inquisitive stare. His blue eyes scanned the professorial man ahead of him. A camera hung by the foreigner's strap on his neck and a tablet computer dangled in a case slung over his shoulder.

“It is not so much I make myself hard to find, but I don't play up my importance.” the man on the porch said with a smile, meeting his guest at the steps. “Daniel Halverston I presume? Your accent, you must be an American?” he guessed.

“Friends call me Dan.” Daniel said, reaching the steps and taking the man's hands in a gentile handshake. “Washington Post. You must be Ignac Kovichkas?”

Ignac nodded his head. He held a face as gentile as the handshake he had given the American reporter before him. Long and with the warmth of a good uncle. His cheeks were shallow, but it was more an effect of his wide cheekbones. His hair was thinning at fifty, and fell from under his hat in thin wisps. “That I am.” he said, “Signed and sealed member of the Gyula Union of Farmers, elected delegate to the Budapest assembly. A father of the revolution.”

“An honor.” Dan said, with a nervous smile. He scanned the front porch and asked nervously, “Where do you want to sit?”

Ignac smiled softly. “Well, the weather is warm. I would like to stay outside to enjoy the summer's warmth.”

“I can agree to that.” Dan complied, finding an empty wicker chair on the porch and sliding it closer to his subject.”

“So...” the American journalist began to trail, “I'm not frankly sure how to start this. To be completely honest with you: I was expecting something different from this interview. And someone more...”

“Military?” Ignac preemptively finished, crossing his hands in his lap. He leaned to the side and leveled a still measuring stare on the journalist, sizing him up.

“I suppose.” Dan said, flustered. He fished around in his computer case and produced his tablet computer. He smiled awkwardly as he turned it on, and nervously waited for it to turn on, unspeaking.

“I suppose that would be a fair assumption to make.” Ignac said in a dry, low voice, “Because of course: of all the revolutions had in the world in the last century and a half how many have been commanded by men no more common then the student, professor, or community leader? In all the rules and assumptions of revolution and government: the correct assumption would have been that I was a general in the old army.”

“Yes, I uh- I guess so.” Dan said. Ignac nodded.

“So... You realize how rare and uncommon a type of person you are?” Dan asked, his computer booted up, “I hope this isn't a bad ice-breaker.”

Ignac rose a hand in the air, and calmly dismissed his concerns, “No such thing.” he laughed, “There's is no point in being in free air if you can not speak as freely in it. I realize some might take offense, but I'm not going to take on that sort of role.”

“But comparatively speaking,” Ignac continued in a cracking voice, he cleared his throat. Dan began to translate his words to type, “That the differences between myself and your revolutionary fathers are not that different.” he proposed, “You had your military leaders and some career politicians but that is something that goes understood in these situations; your George Washingtons and Thomas Jeffersons are understood keystone figures. But I might call myself as something like the 21st century Henry Knox. A man who by no birth or prior training in the field that he became respected in rising to fill that post purely by the need to be filled for his people, by his people, and per the circumstances of the time.”

“Against the backdrop of the twentieth and twenty-first century, I can see why this is taken in astonishment.” he continued, “There has been a dire lack of revolution among the common man, for the common man, as lead by the common man.”

“It is unusual then, you might agree then that a sudden Communist revolution in Europe is something out of place and time?” Dan continued to pry, then adding apologetically, “Sorry if I'm being a bit, uh... hasty in this.”

Again, Ignac leveled his apologies, “You're doing well enough.” he laughed, “But to answer the question: is Fascism too making a resurgence in these passed twenty, thirty, or forty years unusual in itself? It would have seemed that after the Second World War the forces of fascism would have died away. As would had monarchist movements in East Asia and even your own home-country. So for a country to go Communist again, or for the first-time Anarchist even doesn't seem to be too far out of the ordinary.

“But, the factors at fault that lead to this situation here today go back some time.” Ignac continued, “The resurgent Russian since two-thousand-fifteen or sixteen and on into the twenties, committing its abuses through Europe and the broader world because Fascism fit its international policy. Fascism and ultra-nationalist disunified the peoples of Europe and the broader world by sewing fear and mistrust between so many parties that no international body could have been leveled against Russia to check it.

“But understanding this, it must be said that in such a period where the people's voice and privileges were revoked and so much power so quickly investing itself in the upper echelons - the bourgeoisie – during the war that the Russians caused in their meddling was doomed from the start to attract ire and mistrust from the people the State abused as pawns – all of us their pawns – would write the inevitable call for freedom, equality, and democratic rule again.

“And I feel I must address this for your readers back home, should they ever will change for themselves and their people: communism is not oppression. Anarchism is not loss of control. Both are control, where the people of the broader community of which you live – the neighborhood, the town, the village – all seizes and holds equally the control of government. And in this: we all hold in our equal labors the weight, rewards, and liberation of state and of manufacture.”

“I-I see.” Dan stuttered, “I suppose you've had a, uh, lot of people on you about that?”

“Time to time. But never personally.” Ignac dismissed, “Most often it's the dismissive attitudes of people who look at history through the lens of authoritarian leaders. But this sort of history is written only as political statement to protect in present and future a cult of personality. This level of reading and observation is – I personally feel – detrimental to liberty.”

Dan cut in, “That's fine, but for my paper I would have rather like to write a personal story of the leader – or the leader – of the revolution here in Hungary and not a political manifesto.” he laughed nervously, “But I guess I know why you take pains in being hard to identify.”

“Yes, yes. I'm sorry.” Ignac said with a sigh, “It's a habit of mine, after so many years of protesting, proselytizing, and fighting for what I believe is right and what so many others feel it's not hard to shake it.”

Dan shifted in his chair, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. He paused for several moments, finding the question as he looked about. Ignac was not a man who lived like a king. His house was simple, a small family home for a farmer. Beyond the cut grass of his lawn and on the far side of a bushy berm of overgrowth an orchard grew in a far-field, from whence came the smells of ripening plums on the soft summer breeze. How unusual, he thought, that a man such as this, who could have been the new Mao, Lenin, or Castro of the modern times given up on any pretense of glorified riches.

“I suppose...” he started, “How and why?” he looked across at Ignac who regarded him with a patient and thinking stare. His eyes lit up and he nodded softly.

“Why anything?” he asked.

“I don't know, you tell me.” responded Dan.

Ignac smiled. He saw in the American a young man who went out trying to find the story that would define his career going ahead, the man who interviewed one of the latest great revolutionary leaders in the contemporary world. But he had been disarmed coming to him, he lost his sense of expectation and he could tell that this had left Dan lost. “Well, I guess like any young man who spent his life wanting some great change.” he said musingly.

“I was born here, or rather, over in town – Gyula – 2015.” he began, “I had a working class up-bringing, my grandparents had come to live in Gyula seeking an urban life without the big city during the later chapters of the Cold War. My parents remained, and when the Iron Curtain fell they in their own respective ways worked first in the various jobs fields. My Mom worked at the hot-spring resort, my father was doing warehousing work. I came into the world at the bottom rung of society as it were. But I was also the first to go to college.

“And education and moving through the class structure of the world then, you see some things and you become aware. I was eventually introduced to the likes of Peter Kropotkin during my studies and began to read voraciously, what I couldn't in books I did so online. This was at the time in Budapest as well.

“Now this is an all well and good origin story: but I suppose it doesn't really answer the 'why'.” Ignac said flatly.

“Well I suppose it does depending on the reader...” Dan said, trailing off as he typed away on his tablet, catching up with Ignac's story, “But to turn radical, would that have been you as a student, or something else?”

“Not hardly.” Ignac dismissed with a passive smile, “Though at about this point I would have described myself as a voting follower and member of the socialist party. But what got to me, like so many others was the effective coup in government during the Third World War when Russian sympathizers were forced into power and the country went from fighting the Russians, to fighting for them.

“This shocked me, and I wondered how it could have happened. Seemingly over night with mid-war elections the country went from one state to another, and paranoia and hate for others became bitterly defining. Muslims, Gypsies, Germans, Jews: these were our enemies, the Russians now were here to help define our national identity and disagreement or arguing it was considered treason. I was one of the first to be arrested, and I was imprisoned for nearly fifteen years.

“That was my coming around to radical anarchism. The final piece that drove me to despise authoritarian government. A government that punishes its citizens for crying out at the abuses against them should not be allowed to live: it was too as I believed the model of government that lead us to war. Not for nationalism, but for the egocentric greed and pride of ruling men, and their active punishment of anyone saying otherwise to protect themselves in their bubble.

“The real government should have been what it was before, but so much more I believed. And to paraphrase the martyrs in the 1956 Uprising, that I did not want to see the country return to the era of barons and kings, never mind bankers and capitalists.

“Eventually, they set me free; I kept my head low, I was a nobody then. But when I got out I got work.”

“And what was that work?” Dan asked.

“Well, what you see before you!” Ignac declared, with a chuckle, “I went home to my friends, my family, and my community and began asking people what they wanted not as a country but as a community. I knew little of what else was happening elsewhere in similar circumstances, but as with those cliques the reach of opposition was being spread. The same sort of perfect harmony that lead to the '56 Uprising, the downtrodden many thinking, feeling, and speaking to each other about their fears and worries as slowly the new regime worked the very citizens of the country out of their rightful, soul defining labors and land in favor of the elites and a distracted, entitled middle-class.”

“Hold up,” Dan interjected, “What do you mean by 'distracted, entitled middle-class'?”

“The sorts of people who went to college abroad or studied technical fields at home so they could stay relevant as a work-force.” Ignac said, “They weren't bad-people as a whole, but were dependent on the new Oligarchs, who put them in charge of maintaining factories, running the trains, and all the many many fields of an aggressive machine. For many of the people already poor, incompatible to the new face of the economy – too unskilled, not competitive enough, too old, too young, or not Hungarian enough – this was a death sentence to their purpose in life. No one wants a hand-out, even around here we like to think we earn what we got. But we were being forced out of relevancy.”

Ignac leaned back and smiled for a moment. And with a light airy laugh he said, “Some types were talking about how a science-fiction dystopia was being fulfilled,” he chuckled, “That even some time in the future the oligarchs will set aside the middle-class as readily as the good workers of the country because by some future technological development they're no longer relevant; self-programming computers and robots and all that. And the human race would be looking at itself across a chasm that could not be spanned, and the few entitled elites who stood pretty on the other side scorned up and made no serious move to enable the rest of civilization behind. They would have become gods.

“But now... Now we all have that equal shot for god-hood.”
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