[center][h2][color=ffe066]Malagasy Enterprises[/color][/h2]
Antananarivo, Madagascar
[i]Rebirth Square[/i][/center]

[color=2E2C2C]...[/color]

CEO Amélie Rakotomalala stepped onto the stage with a sombre expression. She was a middle-aged woman, forty years old now, and her chestnut-colored face was beginning to wrinkle. Her black hair had a very slight shade of red to it, but now had a few streaks of gray as well, and was tied back in a long and stately ponytail. She wore a black skirt suit with a green-and-red tie: the colors of Madagascar. Applause greeted her stately figure as she reached the podium, and she waited for it to die down, folding her hands together gently. And then she spoke the first words:

"Two hours ago, a terrible tragedy struck the North American Union," she said, taking a deep breath as she finished that sentence. "While we cannot say with certainty what the death count is, this unprovoked attack by the Brazilian Federation has destroyed the families of at least fifty soldiers and citizens. Let us have a moment of silence in honor of those honorable dead."

The crowd fell silent. The Chairwoman bowed her head. The crowd followed suit. Sixty seconds passed. The Chairwoman raised her head.

"The bombings today were an act of murder. Such unrestrained, unwarranted aggression is a threat to all free peoples. Such needless violence begets more needless violence. It makes humans turn on each other, makes us escalate violence. It makes humans forget that we are all citizens of the same, ultimate state: our good and green Earth." Ms. Rakotomalala fell silent again, letting those words sink in, staring out at the cameras and at the crowd. "And that," she said with a sad smile, "is why Malagasy Enterprises was founded. We do not sail for the future which is the past. We aim to steer this great nation, and through this nation the world, to brighter shores.

"And so it is I must answer the very pressing question: 'How is it that Malagasy Enterprises will bring us to that gentler future?' And to that I answer: 'By the light which we cast.'" As a map of the Americas was shot onto the white screen behind the Chairwoman via projector, and she turned slightly so her body faced it. "The Republic of Brazil, led by the honorable President Caraveles, has promised to support the freedom fighters trying to overthrow the very government in the Brazilian Federation that attacked the North American Union. And from the north will come North American vessels and planes to combat those twisted men who thought it well to strike at innocent people. President Caraveles and King Theodore have good aims, but we must not forget the civilians who will be harmed in the crossfire, the same civilians who have suffered under the rule of despots for far too long.

"So, Malagasy Enterprises has deemed it necessary to join in the Liberation of Federated Brazil," said the CEO, bringing her clenched fist over her chest. "We will take [i]every[/i] step necessary to guarantee the people of northern Brazil an independent government with a fair election to vote for their new brand of government. Whether they choose to create a democracy or follow the same path you gentle Malagasy people have found in our Enterprise is up to them; but if the Union, the Republic of Brazil, and Malagasy Enterprises work together, we can ensure a brighter tomorrow for those beleaguered souls in Federated Brazil.

"So let us thank God for this opportunity to better the people of North Brazil - no, the people of [i]Earth[/i] - and let me thank [i]you,[/i] my friends, for trusting Malagasy Enterprises to invest in our collective future."

CEO Amélie Rakotomalala stepped off the stage to the sound of resounding applause.

[hr]

"That," mused Mr. Nirina, "should keep the other interested parties on their toes. Do you always aim to impress?"

"Please," answered the Chairwoman with a smirk, "I never [i]aim[/i] to impress. It's a mere byproduct of my work."

Alex Nirina chuckled as they sped away in a van from Rebirth Square. He was the CMO - the Chief Military Officer - so the matter of guaranteeing the independence of North Brazil was a matter of utmost importance to him. It meant more work for him, of course, but he knew how important it was to keep any one power in the Americas from growing too strong. If the balance of power became too uneven, well...

"It's a bold move, keeping that piece of land out of both Union and Republic hands while talking about working together as a planet. You won't make friends with either of them that way. I have to ask..." Alex turned toward Amélie and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you have a bigger plan?"

"Well, I certainly don't plan to conquer that place for us, if that's what you're asking." Amélie reached inside her jacket, removing a small box of sweets. She popped one free and plopped it into her mouth, chewed, and then added after swallowing, "We're known to be open to negotiations, however. We are, after all, a business. If, say, we were to keep either nation from gaining total control of the region, then were to withdraw once the nation's 'independence' were secured - say, after they held an election to merge with one of the two nations..."

"Ah!" The CMO snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "So, we're going to [i]sell[/i] the land, then."

"But of course! And if neither side offers us a lucrative enough deal, we'll simply ensure the elections in newly freed North Brazil are fair. They'll be independent, grateful, and thus a good trading partner. And," added Ms. Rakotomalala with a raise of her finger, "the international community would look unfavorably on anyone trying to disrupt efforts to help a tyrannized people live freely, no?"

Alex shook his head and laughed. "You are shameless."

"I have nothing to be ashamed about," retorted Amélie with a practiced, political smile. "I'm just a proponent of world peace."

[hr]

[center]Congolese-Malagasy Border
[i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoudSIXZfS4]No Man's Land[/url][/i][/center]

[color=2E2C2C]...[/color]

Blood and bullets were everywhere.

From behind trees and beneath trenches did the Peacekeepers and Congolese Guard paint the verdant jungle red and black. Black clouds rose from smoking craters where men had once stood. Lifeless bodies littered the ground like trash, their guns useless in their cold hands. Peacekeeper platoons inched forward, taking what ground they could. Some of them were led by sergeants now, as several lieutenants had been taken out by sniper fire. Elsewhere a handful of ogres charged through machine gun fire and ducked under rockets as they bulldozed through enemy defenses only to be taken out unceremoniously by a bomb from the sky. It was chaos.

And in the center of all the chaos was Gerardo Asturias, Knight-Captain of the Chevaliers.

Gerardo strode on forth in his [i]Iklwa[/i] battle suit, unleashing Hell on the Congolese bunker ahead. One, two shots from his autocannon were enough burst it open like a tin can; a fiery jet from his flamethrower did the rest. Gerardo pitied the men screaming inside the shell of a bunker, but he kept his voice level and business-like as he spoke to his team: "The bunker is down; I repeat, the way is clear. Get the tanks rolling in here [i]now.[/i]"

"Copy, Captain," answered his lieutenant, her voice crackling through Gerardo's headset. "Peacekeepers alerted. Permission to rendezvous with treads, over."

"Permission granted. Lead them in through the gasp and take out any planes that get near 'em. Ratrema, Leon, you two are with me."

"Affirmative!" snapped Leon.

"Ten-Four," rumbled Ratrema. The fight was on.

The Knight-Captain led his men through the thickest of the fighting, riddling enemy infantry with machine guns and blowing up an ammo stockpile with a well-placed autocannon round. Ratrema was more than happy to use his rocket launchers to take down two enemy fighter craft as they sped over the jungle. They crashed with satisfying screeches. Leon was more than happy to focus his fire on the sole tank that rode up to challenge them. He crippled it by shredding its treads with heavy machine guns, then ran in close and twisted the tank's barrel with the hands of his suit. Its crew was easy pickings after that.

Asturias twisted his neck from side to side with loud popping noises. It was going to be a long day.

[hr]


[center]Pacific Separatist Territory
[i]Los Angeles, Docks[/i][/center]

[color=2E2C2C]...[/color]

The Malagasy transport vessel snailed its way into the port. It had heavy and dangerous cargo, the sort that rolled over trees and blasted heavy shells at ugly things. A dozen HK-27 Lehels, six outdated and six modern warmachines, were deposited into Separatist hands for nary an American dollar. There was no need to ask for payment. Malagasy Enterprises was, after all, invested in helping these moderate rebels achieve their goal of independence.

Ambassador Erica, of course, had a suggestion to deliver to Dominic Williams. She had to convince the rebel leader to push the Grogar tribes to the north out as quickly as possible so as to reduce the number of fronts the would-be nation had to worry about. She also, of course, had to ascertain what sort of further military support would be necessary to achieve that goal quickly. Knowing what tools were right for the job was perhaps more important than having any tools at all.

Of course, there was the small problem of hungry Cascadia looking for any excuse to snatch up land from what was once the United Plains Coalition. Finding a way to delay their inevitable attack on the Separatists was integral.

[i]One problem at a time,[/i] thought Erica as she strode on toward Williams' headquarters.