NationStates Jolt Archive


Adamant (Peaceful RP)

Ninurta
07-11-2004, 01:21
Rules: Messing with the primary storyline is not permitted. If you make a post that I decide interferes too much with what will happen, I'll post that I ignore that post and explain why. Other than that, feel free to post...

IC:

He was not an ugly man, but he wasn't handsome either. He looked like he might once have been very handsome before age began to take his features. He'd denied the many available forms of therapy, of age lengthening and of professionally applied semipermanent cosmetics. Instead, he'd allowed his hairline to recede and the hair that remained was grey or white. He wore the camouflage army jacket that he was no longer actually required to wear, but he left it open, revealing a black tee-shirt that would certainly not have been permitted to someone of even two ranks below his own. The blue jeans he wore were just as nonregulation.
As he stepped off A BIKE*, one of the last two things that would have likely identified what he was was abandoned behind him. All that remained were the twin gold and silver berettas that he chose to wear both on his right side. Despite their indication of rank, an assassin who thought they were ceremonial would have been surprised.
A black machine on his side of the gate read the bar code on his military ID and a guard on the other side pushed the button to open the gate. "Good day, sir?"
"I'm afraid not." The general's voice was quiet as he approached the booth.
"I'm sorry, sir. May I ask what the purpose of your visit is?"
"I have to speak with my brother."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Of course."
The guard punched some buttons on his touch-screen display and read for a few moments. "I'm afraid you're several minutes early, sir, but if you wish I'm sure I could interrupt his lunch for you..."
"Please."
The guard, who had his own display of rank - a green revolver - displayed prominently in front of him, pulled up a microphone and had a hurried conversation with one of the Consul's assistants. Several moments later, he looked up. "Sorry to keep you waiting, General. The Consul is finishing his lunch as we speak."
The old general nodded. "Thank you."
The guard closed the gate and went back to his ... whatever it was he did.
The general began the long walk through the park toward the huge Legislature Building. Midway through the park, he felt water fall on his shoulder and looked up. It was beginning to drizzle. He frowned, looked around, and countinued on his way. By the time he'd reached the building the sky had turned grey, but he had not hurried his stride - his dignity refused to allow him that aid. The door opened on its own and he looked inside. The receptionist - a security guard in disguise, he suspected - nodded to him. "The Consul is waiting for you, sir." The general nodded and proceeded to the elevator. That door, to, opened as he arrived and closed behind him, and he didn't even have to say anything before it began its upward trek. It arrived, indicating the twenty-sixth floor, and the doors opened for him and then closed behind him again. The general didn't like things that worked without someone he could see telling them to. He'd watched science fiction movies as a child, so he knew what that led to. He continued down the short hallway, ignoring the few doors on the side until he came to the end of the hallway, where it opened into a large, empty room. Steel and mirrors covered the room in the style that had been fashionable for the last few years. Tasteful artwork hung at a few areas, but failed to give the room a sense that it was occupied. The man in the room - for there was a man in the room, and only one man, and no women - was young by the general's standards, and fairly old by anyone else's standards. He was close in appearance to the general, but his hair remained black, his height remained unchanged(though his posture suffered) by age, and his hairline remained. He wore a suit rather than the casual quasi-Army-wear of the general.
The general spoke, alerting the man to his presence. "You sent for me, John?"
The man swiveled in his chair, his face becoming clear and shown to be that of the Consul, famous across Ninurta. "Yes. Steven, both of us are people who like to get to the point, so shall we?"
"Please."
"I need you to resign."
The general smiled. "I knew this wasn't going to be good."
"Steven..."
"No, John. If you want to fire me, you're going to have to do it yourself."
"Steven."
"John, I know I'm not what I once was, but I'll tell you something you already know. You know what I'l tell it to you? Because you need to hear it. I have three Major Generals under me, and not one of them is more qualified for my position than I am. You know it. I know you've been overestimating what my aging has done to my mind, but even you know they aren't what I am. To show you, then, that this mind of mine hasn't lost too many steps, I'll tell you what you're going to do with my position. You're going to give it to some politician in exchange for some vote on some issue. And if you wanted me to resign so it didn't look bad that you were firing your own brother, well, we don't always get what we wish for. Goodbye."
He turned around and walked back to the elevator, which opened for him and closed for his brother's protests. He punched in the lobby button - this time he got to make it work himself - and began the short trip back to Army Command.


*A BIKE is the standard Army transportation unit. All are motorcycles, most built for two for quick navigation around the jungles and cities. As a General, Steven's would most likely have been very different - built for one and designed more to look stylish and be fast than to have the maneuverability and stability that traversing jungle would have required.

A Note On The Title: The Consul and the General are brothers, John and Steven Adamant.
Ninurta
07-11-2004, 15:12
The Consul banged his fist against the table.
In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea.
Holding his hand, he began cursing. As the pain subsided, he went to the elevator, whose door opened as he approached - ah, technology! - and went up a few more floors, into the thirties. The elevator stopped and opened for him, and he abandoned the modern feel he had embraced in his own residence for the far too lavish one that his adversary had chosen. If this man lived exactly thirteen floors above him, is that bad luck for the Consul, or bad luck for his adversary?
He knocked on the door, and the second most powerful man in the Legislature responded promptly.
"Consul Adamant! What can I do for you?"
"Cut the crap, Chuck."
"All right." The man frowned. "My name is Charles."
"I know, Chuck."
Charles smiled vaguely. "That's why you were elected, you know."
"What is?"
"The voters saw your vague insanity and they couldn't stop liking you. It's hard to dislike someone who's just a little crazy. Not too much, you see, but a little bit."
"I know why you have your job."
"Hmm?"
"The reason you're Opposition leader is because you're smart enough to try out different insults than ones about this Adamant family nobility."
"You know, they have a - "
"I worked for this position, dammit! I worked my way up from the very bottom, and Steven did too. Dammit, I don't know where any of you got the idea that either of us got a leg up from anybody."
"I know you didn't want one..."
The Consul smiled. "But I got it anyway? Is that what you're saying?"
"Well..."
"Listen, Chuck. Steven won't resign."
Charles grew livid. "Fire him, dammit!"
"I won't do that."
"If you don't fire him, I swear, you will never get another vote from a single member of the Opposition on a single bill of yours until Hell freezes over!"
"If I fire him, I lose my job."
"I don't ca- Wait. I didn't follow that."
"I've been hanging onto my approval ratings by a thread. If I fire my own brother from a position he's handling just fine over a transparent political reason, -"
"Politics isn't a bad thing, Consul! Without politics, all we've got is you who represents your views and only your views, or me, who represements my views and only my views! Politics is the representation of the people, Consul, and if politics mandates that you do something, if you have to do something for politics or else you won't be able to do any of what you like to do, then obeying that is what gets the will of the people represented!"
"The people do not want me to fire my brother! When my approval rating heads into the thirties because I did it, you'll see! Only you won't, Chuck. Because I'm not going to fire him."
Ninurta
09-11-2004, 00:15
Two days later....

"Dammit, Steven!"
"I'm not going to resign, John."
"Listen to me! Mitchell's threatening to run over this!"
"Mitchell? Refresh my-"
"He's the Opposition leader, Steven."
"So...hasn't he already been elected? Why wouldn't he run?"
"For Consul."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"He won't win."
"Not this election, he won't. People aren't used to the idea of having there be two candidates. I haven't been opposed in years..."
"So..."
"So what happens next election? My approval's been steadily declining for years - when people start thinking they have a choice, I'm-"
"John! Listen to yourself talk!"
"What?"
"If the people don't want to elect you, let them not elect you."
"What?""
"If the people don't elect you, it's because they don't think you're suited for the job."
"I'm tyring to get them to think I am suited for the jo-"
"You told me not sixty hours ago that your approval ratings would plummet if you had to fire me. Goodbye, John."
"I expect your resignation by midnight tonight, Steven."
"Don't wait up."
"Goodbye, Steven."