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June 8th, 1960: Paris, France
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All seemed well in Paris, it was a lovely June evening and many Parisians were enjoying themselves, wining and dining, going on cute dates with their loved ones or just enjoying the scenery. However, while they went about their evening they'd have no idea of the turmoil that was rapidly approaching them and their nation in the coming days. Days in which the new heroes of the republic would rise and their place in history secured.

A thunder of footsteps and yelling broke out in the meeting room as a multitude of suit clad men briskly left the room without looking back, leaving nothing but shocked expressions and anger in their wake. President Villeneuve was immobilized with rage. Face taut with anger, he took a deep breath and recomposed himself, turning to another member of the assembly that hadn't walked out.

"What the fuck do they think they're doing?" He asked in a scarily authoritative tone no one had ever heard him speak in.

"I-I don't know sir.." Stammered the young assemblyman.

"Find out what they're doing then. I don't know who they think they are, but there will be severe repercussions for leaving the most important assembly of the year," said Villeneuve as irritated as can be. The poor assemblyman went on his way to fetch those who left, yet he returned unsuccessful several minutes later. They were nowhere to be found within the assembly building. The President ultimately called the meeting back into order. Decisions needed to be made, and if those men wished not to participate over some petty political agenda, who was he to stop them? The meeting continued for just a mere hour longer with hardly any debate, the majority of those who remained were highly in favor of the proposals that the Anarchiste and Travailleurs Avant parties were so adamantly against.

Villeneuve and his allies in the Parti Socialiste, as well as the Fête Populaire Révolutionnaire would not stand for such disrespect and insubordination from supposed statesmen. The protectors of the future. As the meeting came to a close, the president addressed the assemblymen:

"Comrades, today has been simultaneously a success and a tragedy. A success because we all share a vision for a France that serves not only it's own people, but all people across the world. We shall become a shining beacon of freedom for the rest of the world! However, before we can accomplish such a great task we must deal with the cowardly assemblymen who today have done their nation a great disservice. Unwilling to communicate or cooperate, these are not men fit to make decisions for their country. It is with great regret that I must suggest to you all that we either see these men in another meeting in two days time, or we relieve them of their post and hold elections for their assembly seats in three weeks time. That is all, now go enjoy your evening for there is great work to do in the coming days."

Jacques, very satisfied with his little speech, got up and walked towards the exit of the room whilst being applauded by the representatives. He had managed to compose himself enough to speak but he knew he needed to get some fresh air and quickly. Those damn anarchists and moderates were really being a thorn in his side. He was quite sick of it. He spent about twenty minutes outside, and returned to his office.

He returned to his office with a surprise. Prime Minister Ferdinand Girard was waiting for him, comfortably seated outside the room and lost in a newspaper as he usually was. Jacques was late, but he didn't know that. Without so much as looking up, Ferdinand began speaking.

"How was your emergency meeting?"

"It was awful," began Jacques in a saddened tone. "The anarchists and moderates walked out, they refuse to work with us."

"How unfortunate. They should know by now that they can't stop us from giving the people what they want. They wouldn't compromise at all you said?"

"Not at all," the President said as he walked into his office and took his seat behind his desk. He suddenly remembered he needed to ask for a more comfortable chair and a larger desk. Well, that's neither here nor there. "They've refused our proposals for the past two months and they won't budge no matter how many times we change them." He continued as he lightly puffed on a cigar.

Ferdinand had taken the seat in front of Jacques and listened intently. "I assume they still take the most issue with our emergency war plans for Belgium and the general rearmament, right?" Asked Ferdinand knowingly.

"Correct. We've made our case many times. Yet, they can't seem to put the interests of our people, and our brothers and sisters across the border over their own petty agenda. Quite honestly, it sickens me. Those people need our help."

"I know. The age of monarchs has long passed if you ask me," said the PM smugly. "How do you intend to deal with this situation?"

"I told the assemblymen of my intentions to host elections in the coming weeks if the anarchists and moderates don't sign our proposals. I also think that we need to amend the rules as well. Unanimous votes are impossible to achieve, you know."

"I agree wholeheartedly. It's rules like those that'll keep us from doing our jobs. This republic's founders definitely missed the mark on several ideas. Rectifying them won't be an issue though."

"Agreed. In the mean time, I need to continue drafting our ultimatum for the Belgian king. I'm sure he'll be wise enough to understand what's at stake; although we may need to actually fight," Jacques stated in an ever so slightly concerned tone.

"Don't worry about it. We'll defeat the monarchists if we must. They can't stand against their own people."

"You're right. There's no reason to lack any confidence here..."

"Precisely. Everything will be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me; I have a family and some cognac to go back to for the rest of the evening," Ferdinand said as he ascended from his seat and left the office to a simple "Take care," from the President.

Jacques knew he that he ought to call it a day soon, although he figured he could at least continue looking over his draft for the ultimatum to the Belgians. Feeling satisfied with his authoring thus far, he severely doubted that there would be much need for any revision to the letter, which reads as follows:

"Dear Baudouin, your Excellency and King of the Belgians; it was has come to the French people's attention that in recent times your policies have left your own people suffering, disenfranchised and feeling defeated and powerless. However, that is not the case for much longer. It is with this letter that the French nation declares its intention to come to the aid of the oppressed all over the world. As such, we hereby offer you a choice. Acquiesce to not only your own people's demands, but also our own which are listed simply as seen here:

1. Repeal the national ban on trade unions and worker's organizations.

2. Release all political prisoners associated with said ban.

3. Abdicate the throne and form a Belgian republic with free elections that all parties may participate in.

If these conditions are not met within a week's time after receiving them then the French Republic has no choice but to forcefully come to the aid of our Belgian brothers and sisters who tireless work under your abusive regime. Of course, we hope that such an event will not come to pass. However, if it must then we will have no choice but to declare a state of war between our nations. We eagerly await your most Excellent response and hope that your wise judgement shall lead your people to prosperity and safety as well as liberation.


Still feeling incredibly confident in his authorship, he finally decided to call it a day. It's best to turn in early he thought. The coming days are incredibly important and a strong leader needs to well, maintain his strength. Especially in the face of imminent danger.
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May 1st, Paris
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A door slammed shut with the intensity of a thousand hammers striking iron as a clearly annoyed man rushed into the office of the Comité de salut public, which was a building with a striking exterior and a dull interior, drab carpets and drab curtains lined the floors and windows. Lost in a moment’s thought about how he hated the décor of the reception area oh so very much, he was quickly brought back to reality by the soft, almost comforting voice of a middle-aged man.

“You really shouldn’t be so loud, Adrien. Where have your manners gone?” Asked the bespectacled man, without so much as a look up from his newspaper, which he was gazing upon intently.

“Sorry Ferdinand, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here right now. I could barely hear my own thoughts with how loud things were getting outside,” sighed Adrien with a slight frown.

Ferdinand continued to be lost in the details of the paper as he flipped through it for a couple of moments, before setting it down on the well finished table in front of his seat. Clearing his throat, Ferdinand looked up at Adrien and smiled before he finally spoke:
“Don’t worry about it. You get used to it eventually,” said Ferdinand as he turned his gaze to a cheering crowd some distance from the building.

The May Day celebrations were concluding with a speech from the President, Jacques Villeneuve. The crowd was ecstatic and charged from his electric words, promises of strength, reclamation of previously French lands and his vision for a France that could act as a beacon of light to the rest of the world. No one could topple the will and power of the French people according to him and they believed it. He went on to say that all oppressed people's of the world can look forward to a future of liberation and freedom, that he would personally see to it. The crowd loved it, these people had a lot of faith in their government, that the people's wishes would be carried out. However, this wasn't the case for everyone, some people still clung to the old ways and the idea of kings or liberal republics. A crowd-pleaser is just that, a crowd-pleaser. You can't please everyone, but damned if he doesn't try to.

“You know, Jacques is like a star to those people, and it’s incredible to see,” continued Ferdinand with a wistful expression.

“It’s really something,” replied Adrien.

“That it is!” Exclaimed Ferdinand with a satisfied smile.

“Anyways, I have to get going in a moment. I’ll need to see you and Jacques in a few hours.”

“We’ll be there. He ought to be back at any moment.”

“Glad to hear it. You take care in the meantime,” said Ferdinand’s junior as he briskly entered an elevator and in a moment, he was gone. Ferdinand picked up the paper and continued to read it leisurely until he noticed a story that took him quite a back: “Belgian king decrees that membership in the Belgian Workers Party, Democratic Coalition and the People’s United Front has been outlawed, that there shall be severe consequences for all involved with these organizations.”

He quickly arose from his comfortable seat in the lobby, grabbed the paper and headed to an elevator. He knew that the other members of the ministry and the Committee would definitely have some strong opinions about this turn of events, especially Jacques. He was always interested in whatever impassioned thing Jacques had to say, and he knew that this time would be no different. The real question was whether or not he could get the ministers to go along with whatever crazy plan he devised. Ferdinand knew Jacques would find a way though, he usually did. If he had any admirable trait, it was determination.

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May 9th, near Lyon
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The weather was usually fair and nice in this area, comfortable fields dotted with trees and a soft breeze. A great scene for a picnic or a celebration. Today was not a picturesque day like that, yet, the aeronautical engineers working on Renault Aviation’s newest project in conjunction with the Armée de l'air, did not care in the slightest. Thunder cracked the sky as furious rain crashed upon the earth. Sane researchers and sane pilots would never conduct a test in these conditions, however these were not your average pilots. The researchers watched with great respect as the two aircraft danced with one another in the turbulent sky that threatened to punish their hubris with every strike of lightning and howl of the wind.

“It seems the air force’s staff were correct to recommend us these two.” Said one engineer to another, trying to contain the excitement in his voice.

“Damn right, I’ve never seen airmanship like this before!” Exclaimed a younger engineer, unable to contain his excitement.

“I guess they weren’t lying, you really can’t find guys this good around here,” said a pilot who was sitting nearby, observing the test flights. Earlier he couldn’t have helped but to feel annoyed that he was passed over in favor of those two for the test, yet his tune had suddenly changed after some observation. Aviation had always been his passion, and seeing those beautiful machines in the air filled him with extreme lust. To him, those machines were like beautiful women. The kind that no mere mortal could seduce. Yet, he had every intention of making them fall in love with him.

Alexandre was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hardly noticed that two men were standing in front of him, speaking to the engineers enthusiastically. He finally returned to reality when he heard one of them, in a heavy accent ask “So, who’s the kid?”

Before anyone could answer, Alexandre had already jumped up and was standing in front of the two men. “My name is Lieutenant Alexandre Delvaux, 15th escadre de chasse!” He exclaimed incredibly proudly as if he had something to prove. The first man spoke up once again, in a thick accent that Alexandre still wasn’t sure of.
“Pardon my manners, it’s incredibly rude of me to speak of someone in my presence without addressing them, my apologies.”

“No worries, it's alright.”

“My name is Capitaine Anton Dashkov, I come from the region of Smolensk. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Dashkov warmly.

“It’s my pleasure, it’s not every day you meet a duo of such skilled pilots.”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the second man chimed in. “My name is Capitaine Viktor Kupchenko, and I hail from the same homeland as my comrade Anton. I look forward to sharing the skies with you.”

“Thank you, it’s great to meet both of you. Hopefully we’ll get to fly together,” said Alexandre excitedly. To him, these two were the exemplars of peak human performance. You couldn’t get much better than this in his eyes.

“Come by the bar sometime and get a drink with us. Now then, if you’ll excuse us we need to go write our reports and get drilled by our good friends at Renault. Hopefully they won't put a return to sender stamp on us,” chuckled Dashkov as he and Kupchenko began to walk away towards the quarters.

Alexandre couldn’t help but wonder why they came to France. After all, there was no reason for Russians to come here, right? They had their own wars to fight, but maybe they left to escape that. No, they were way too good. Alexandre knew that they’d seen combat and that he had to ask them about their past himself. He’d go on to spend the next week scratching his head, wondering where these amazing Russian wonder pilots came from, and if he’d get his opportunity to fly those fancy new planes that secretly made him rock-hard, even if he didn't want to admit it.
The Federal People’s Republic of France




National Anthem

Map:

Leader: President Jacques Villeneuve

History:


The Federal People’s Republic of France




National Anthem

Map:

Leader: President Jacques Villeneuve

History:


Reserving France lads.
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