NationStates Jolt Archive

-Official Ratheian Government Response-

For his valiant efforts to give us something funny to add to our lives and his continuing quest to either end n00bishness or send it into submission with quality programming (HATARIA).

A Concord Jet stands parked on a large runway beside the National Ratheian Airport where they await the arrival of Frisbeeteria. If they do not show up, the award will be presented later on. The President himself had arrived for the awarding of the first Hero of Ratheia award, dressed in a rather nice suit with a military style hat, greatly resembling Stalin's favorite attire.

President Vladimir Zaitsev sighed and began walking back to his Concord. He stopped and handed a suitcase to one of his escort pilots who had the honor of using a MIG 1.42 He whispered something in his ear and the pilot boarded his MIG and promptly took off.

He stepped into the Concord and it took off with a roar.

Air DPUO flight 4417 arrived 15 minutes late at Gate 7B of the Ratheian capitol city's airport. Among the passengers deplaning from coach class were a somewhat scruffy looking man, an attractive but harried blonde woman, and a couple of college boys carrying aluminum storage containers.

A pair of passengers were walking slightly behind the foursome. "Hey, doesn't that guy look a little like Colin Quinn? You know, the guy that hosts that Hataria show."

"No way, Bert. That shabby guy? Besides, what the hell would he be doing in Ratheia?

--------------------------

Colin turned to his assistant, Sascha. "Hey, were we supposed to be met, or are we headed straight to the hotel? Svan, Al, either of you got the schedule?"

The foursome continued down the concourse towards the baggage claim.

http://flathat.wm.edu/2004-02-06/colin.jpg
Colin Quinn, Host
My Favorite Hatarian!

...replaced by a slightly quieter roar of a Gulfstream. A ladder rolled out of the door, preceded by a red carpet.This roar was replaced by a much louder one. That of the New Charvisian First space flight crashing into the air traffic control.

Now stepping off the plane was Charvis the First, the Insane Dictator of Hell/New Charvis. "Whoops.*Ahem*President Vladimir Zaitsev, I am here representing the nation of New Charvis to observe this important event."

OOC: No snipers in the area, right? :sniper: :) :sniper:

((Fris, want the award now?))

The crowds have been lighter than expected for the DVD Release party, but Quinn's been on the road long enough not to let it bother him too much. Sascha's been working with Ratheia Town Centre Mall staff to keep the line moving smoothly, and Svan and Al have the portable rig ready just in case there is news out of Hataria. A pair of TNNN Hoverdrone ® platforms are sitting on a nearby table. They're a lot smaller in person ...

"Sascha, be a dear and get me another couple more pens, wouldja? And see if the manager can me a double skim mochaccino, Vente, 'k?" Colin massaged his cramping hand as the enthusiastic teen in front of him babbled on in a high-pitched voice. "Oh yeah, sweetheart, glad you like it. How did you want me to sign it? 'Love ya, Colin' sounds great. Here ya go."

Sascha stopped abruptly. "Col, I think we may have a problem. There are a bunch of sirens outside the north mall entrance, and there's some military looking guys pushing through the crowd."

"Oh good Christ, what now," Colin said in a disgusted undertone. "I friggin' HATE dealing with foreign military before I've had my coffee."

Sascha straightened her outfit, showing a bit more of some very attractive legs. "Doesn't look like you've got much of a choice, Boss. They're headed straight for us."

((So many characters, who to give the award too?))

President Vladimir Zaitsev strode through the crowds with his special forces teams following behind, holding their AN-94's at the ready. He noticed the crowds around a group of people and saw several individuals. Unsure of who the award was to be delivered to, he waved over to his advisor, who was sitting in the shadows drinking a Coolata.

"My evil advisor, you dare drink this capitalist beverage?"

There was silence, and then the two men broke into laughter over an inside joke.

Al and Svan may have only been interns, but they knew their craft. As the noise of the crowd started to rise, Al had the Steadycam off of standby and was into his stance. Svan, at the multimixer console, joystick in hand, already had one of the Hoverdrones lifting from the table, and began moving the 'drone over the heads of the crowd.

With a sudden explosive *crack*, a Ratheian Special Forces sergeant put an AN-94 burst through the canopy of the Hoverdrone, which was an obvious threat to his president. Glass tinkled from exploding fluorescent ceiling fixtures as the 'drone thumped to the floor in 3 pieces amidst a scattering crowd.

"SONOFABITCH!" Svan shouted as he jerked his hands from the joystick. The audio meters twitched as Al's audio booms picked up the expletive. "Ginger is gonna kick my ass," he continued in a whisper, "when she finds out I lost a 'drone at a friggin' mall signing."

Colin picked out the most heavily decorated pair in the group ahead. *Oh, shit, how am I gonna get us past this fiasco?* "Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Colin Quinn, and I'm the host of TNNN's My Favorite Hatarian! Is there something I can do for you fine gentlemen today?"

"... that won't get us all shot ..." Sascha muttered under her breath.

He looked at Colin Quinn with a little smile on his face, and spoke with his heavily accented English.

"Good day, Mr. Quinn. I am looking for the head of the TNNN, so as to give him a gift from the Ratheian government and its people. Have you seen him? Or her, as it may be?"

His pupils dilated ever so slightly and turned around suddenly, yelling something at the guard who had shot the Hover Drone down before turning back around.

The evil advisor stood in the back, directing the soldiers to different locations and making sure snipers had their eye on the TNNN crew.

Colin shuffled his feet nervously, and made sure his hands remained in plain sight. "That would be Director Murdock, Sir. Ernest Murdock, that is. He's the top dog at Murdock Metro Media, back in Frisbeeteria. Ummm ...," Colin gave a heavy sigh, "I think there's been a bit of a mixup, Sir. We were already on tour in the region with our debut of the My Favorite Hatarian! DVD, and they added Ratheia at the last minute. Said there was someone who wanted us there, but the details ... kinda weren't too specific."

He paused, a bit flustered. The man still hadn't identified himself, so he didn't know quite how to address him. "I ... I guess they sent me, sir, because the whole TNNN network was ... well, kinda a brainstorm of my own production crew," he waved a hand negligently at Al, still filming, and Sascha, fidgeting almost as if she had snakes crawling on her ankles. "I guess they thought you meant us, Sir."

"My apologies for the Hoverdrone thing, by the way. They're just camera platforms. Totally unarmed. We didn't mean any harm, honestly."

Svan watched the footage reel into his recorders. *At least this isn't going direct to Camsat,* he thought *Thank goodness we're going Live to Tape. Colin's making an ass of himself out there, and this clip's gonna need a BUNCH of editing.*

"Ummm ...," Colin continued, "I guess that makes me the TNNN representative on the spot. So, how can I help you nice gentlemen?"

He chuckled briefly and turned toward his advisor.

"The suitcase."

The advisor made an evil laugh, just for effect and handed the President a large black suitcase, made out of the finest Ratheian leather. He turned back to Mr. Quinn.

"Do you know what is in this suitcase?"

He quirked and eyebrow and not waiting for an answer he replied to his own question.

"Of course you don't. The question is, Mr. Quinn, do you want to know?"

Colin had worked tough crowds before, but they usually weren't this heavily armed.

"Sir, if the Ratheian government wants me to know what's in that suitcase ... then I'd be delighted to find out."

"They call me Vladimir Zaitsev, and I'm sure you have heard of me. If you have not, I am the President of Ratheia. What is inside the suitcase is something we want you to have. You as in your company, and all of it's employee's."

He held the suitcase in one hand and quickly opened it by putting in the correct code. The suitcase beeped twice and opened with a flourish, a sort of mist flowing from it. He did not show the contents to Colin, not yet.

"I am displeased that your director is not here. He will receive a personal message from me later. As for you, I think it's time."

Al's Steadycam zoomed in on the misty-flowing suitcase as Colin took an involuntary step backwards.

"Thank you for understanding, President Zaitsev," he said. "I'm sure Director Murdock would be delighted to hear from you."

He turned the suitcase around, facing Colin and smiled.

"Your director has the honor of being the first recipient of the Hero of Ratheia award, in our short but wonderful history."

Inside the suitcase lay a small medal, with the words Hero of Ratheia written on it's front. The color was a dull metallic sheen that was obviously Titanium. The pin that was connected to the top of the medal was colored alternating stripes of gold and silver. Directly to the left side of it there was a small plaque, obviously dedicated to the station. On it was written these words:

To The Staff of the TNNN
For Incredible Dedication to Ridding the Planet of Dumbasses
And for the humor they bring to our world.

The plaque was obviously made of Titanium and was unusually light for its size.

Colin's eyebrows raised in obvious involuntary surprise. These guys were serious! Man, what the hell was the protocol for receiving a national medal of honor in a shopping mall? They sure didn't cover this in broadcasting school ...

"President Zaitsev, I'm honored ... I mean, we're honored ... to accept this medal on behalf of The NationStates N00B Network, Murdock Metro Media, and the entire Comglomerated Oligarchy of Frisbeeterian Corporate States." He motioned Al to bring the camera around. "As you can see, we're filming this ceremony so that it can be shared with all the great citizen-employees of the Frisbeeterian Corporate States. I'd say we've got a real good shot at getting NS-wide coverage on TNNN ..."

"... since we own the freaking company," muttered Svan back at the console.

"... and I'm sure Director Murdock will be moved and pleased to know that the People of Ratheia have such high regard for our product ... errr ... efforts to inform the peoples of NationStates about the dangers and humorous aspects of n00bs in our shared planet. Thank you, and thank your people for us. We truly are grateful."

Colin paused, hands semi-extended as if to take the case ... or just the medal ... and some effort then pulled his hands back by his sides.

"Mister President, would you like me to deliver this gift to our Directorate, or would you prefer to grant it yourself at a later date when we have a chance to explain this mes ... misunderstanding?"

"It is all right. You can do it. And i have another thing for you, before I depart, to make sure you continue you make quality television."

He handed Colin a small check with the number 5,000,000 on it.

"Five million dollars to the TNNN. This is my gift."

He turned and left the mall, carefully avoiding the Drone remains and stepped into his armored vehicle. The vehicle sped away.

Several long and potentially ugly phone calls later, Director Murdock decided that the entire mess was concluded satisfactorily. It took a personal phone call from UN Delegate M. J. Donovan to the President of Ratheia before all feathers were unruffled, but they got it done. The suitcase with the medal and the check was on a flight to Frisbeeteria (along with a crated, broken Hoverdrone), and the TNNN crew were ready to head out of Ratheia.

The Ratheian Chief of Protocol had arranged all the clearances (to get them the hell out of sight, Sascha suspected), and Quinn and his staff were delivered by limousine to the very steps of the plane. On entering the plane, the flight attendant motioned them to the left instead of the right. Apparently Ratheian courtesy even extended to First Class upgrades towards their next stop on the MFH DVD tour.


Colin let Sascha slip into the window seat. Al and Svan were across the aisle. An attendant brought them each a flute of champagne before they'd even stowed their carryon luggage..

"Damn, that was nice of the Ratheians," Colin snuggled into his comfy seat. "We may have made a mess of things in Ratheia, but we came out smelling more like roses than I would have thought. Sascha, make sure we send Sponsor packages to the President's Palace. Oh hey, by the way, Svan, that was a damn nice cut you made of that footage, even with just Al's camera running. I'll be sure to tell Ginger that the Hoverdrone incident wasn't your fault. I think the whole thing may just boost us in the ratings."

Svan beamed at the compliment, and the CYA. "Glad to do it, Boss. I like this job. If I lost it, I'd probably get deported."

"I'd say you're safe for the moment," Colin smirked. "Say, Sasch - where the hell are we headed anyway. We got bundled aboard so quickly I never even saw the flight numbers."

Sascha pulled her DayPlanner out and checked the unneeded boarding passes. "It's FWS flight 84, Chief. We're headed for... ummm ... " Sascha's voice became unintelligible as she dropped her head into her lap.

"What the ...?" Colin started, "gimme that." He pulled the passes from her hands. "We're going to ... oh my God ... Fascist White States. Good God Almighty, could this day get any worse?"

He suddenly started laughing, uncontrollably, almost manically. The other three watched him as he finally wound down into a chuckle. "Oh yeah, it could have been worse. Don't know if you know this, but I was the Number Two choice for hosting My Favorite Hatarian. Number One? Eddie Murphy. Can you see him on a tour of FWS?"

All four began giggling, laughter building on laughter, as the plane lifted its nose and took off for the next destination.

[fin]