NationStates Jolt Archive

It was February of 1976, the United States was about to break-up, the loss of over 300,000 soldiers in Vietnam, the failure to repel the Chinese invasion of Taiwan, the assassination of the last three presidents, the twelve weeks of race riots in 1975, they had been too much, in about two months, there would be no United States, but rather fifty separate republics, a few of which would unite into new coalitions and confederations of states.

At a high school in rural Mississippi, Neshoba County, a young sixteen year old pulled into the rear parking lot, a secluded parking lot for the most part, and he was getting there late, as usual. His job in the coalmines had kept him over, and he’d had no sleep in the last twenty-four hours.

He stepped out of his truck, the All-Wheel-Drive Ford with a large confederate flag hanging in the back, with a double gun-rack, a horn that played Dixie, and a spittoon mounted in-between the seats.

As he was walking inside, he saw a black boy of about eighteen, trying to shake down a fourteen year old white kid.

The sixteen year old white boy walked over to the black and pushed him from behind, knocking him forward about three feet, he’d been caught totally off-balance. The negro spun around, pulling out a switchblade, flicking the blade out with the push of the button. He smiled, “I gonna cut ju deep cracka!”

The white youth looked to the young boy, “Get out of here…” The boy immediately ran about forty feet away, hiding behind a tree, but keeping an eye on what was going on.

The black lunged at him, he grabbed his hand the knife was in, bent it until it broke, and then smashed his fist right into the bridge of his nose, breaking it instantly, he then flipped him over his body and smiled, “Well, I guess your plan fell apart…” He spat a stream of tobacco juice on the would-be assailant and smiled as he picked up the wallet he’d taken off the younger kid.

He walked over to the white kid, “Here, this is yours I believe…” He tossed him the wallet, the boy caught it, immediately saying, “Thanks…”

He then turned and walked for the door, glad that this parking lot was so deserted at this time. The black struggled to stand and then limped away, he got into a nearby Cadillac where two of his friends were waiting. One leaned out the window and shouted, “You gonna be a dead cracka! You axing fo it! We git you lata!” They then drove off.

The white youth sighed, spat some more juice onto the sidewalk and then proceeded into the building, he was just thankful that his older friend who was always coming by to see his mother had been a Green Beret in Vietnam, and a Rhodesian SAS in 72-73 in Rhodesia, and all the hand-to-hand combat skills he’d learned, he’d taken the time to teach to others, he was lucky to have been one of the few to learn from that nice man…

About twenty minutes later, he was sitting in class. He was chewing tobacco still, the teacher glanced over his way, “Excuse me, young man, do you know that is a filthy habit and against school policy? Also I’ll thank you to come to my class on time or not at all…”

The boy stood up, towering over the teacher, the boy was nearly 6’4, the teacher was only 5’11… The boy smiled, “Yeah… You going to do something about it?”

The teacher frowned, “Swallow your tobacco, this instant!”

The youth spat a stream of juice onto the man’s shoes, the class erupted with laughter. He then chuckled, “I spit, like your wife probably does!

The teacher went red with rage and drove his fist into the boy’s stomach… He shrugged it off, not even bothered by it, he looked down, “That wasn’t nice…”

The teacher shook his head, “You sir have a discipline problem, go to the principals office…”

The boy shrugged, and walked out of the classroom, on his way, another student, his best friend, was coming down the hall, walking back to his own class after having gone to the bathroom to smoke. He waved to his friend, “Hey Bertrand, how are you?”

Navarre chuckled, “Going to the office again, Curtis? Damn, when are you going to learn?”

Curtis shrugged, “Meh, who cares, I’m getting great grades, what’s a few trips to the office… Besides, I enjoy going to the office, it’s a nice break from class, and that principal is very accommodating and understanding…” He grinned at the last part.

Bertrand shook his head; he didn’t believe his friend, although he himself would have liked to get the principal if he could. She was twenty-five and was sure a looker.

Curtis spat a stream of tobacco juice down the hall, landing it in an open trashcan, he smiled at his friend, “So, are we on for tonight? Baldur, Fritz, Wilhelm, and you, we’re all going? Right?”

Navarre leaned in close to his friend and whispered, “Yeah, sure… We’re going… How could we not go… Anyway, I have to get back to class…”

Curtis nodded his head and continued on down to the principals office.

He knocked on her door, she was in her office, she called him in. When she saw it was him, she immediately grinned as she shut the blinds, “Mr. Fabus, shut and lock the door please…” He did so, “I was told to come see you, they said I have a discipline problem…”

She smiled and patted her knee, “Then I guess I’ll have to spank you…”

Curtis chuckled, “Are you serious?” He looked up and down at her, his eyes stopped on her legs, he grinned, “Okay, you can teach me a lesson if that’s what you think needs to be done…”

She nodded, “Yes, but Mr. Fabus, please spit that out first…” He frowned and spat his tobacco out. She smiled and started to clear off her desk.

When they were done, Curtis smiled and said, “Thanks for teaching me a lesson…”

She shook her head and chuckled, “No thank you. Mr. Fabus… Your track record may very well get our school some much needed recognition and attention…”

He swatted her butt and winked at her, “Well, call me down to the office anytime things are moving slow…” He then walked out the door and shut it behind him.


As he was walking down the hall to his next class, he saw his good friend, Baldur Von Schacht, being escorted down to the office by a chemistry teacher. Baldur was smiling, “Curtis, I’ve done it! I made mustard today!”

Curtis shook his head, “Baldur, are you still working on making chemical weapons?”

The teacher shrugged, “Yes, our aspiring chemist and doctor is indeed working on chemical weapons, the chemical storage room will need to be cleaned and decontaminated now…”

Curtis chuckled, “Okay, well you guys have fun with that…”

Curtis walked to his next class, Spanish, he was reading a gun magazine through most of the class, the teacher, a recently hired twenty-two year old woman from Argentina, entirely of Spanish ancestry, frowned at him, and said, “Mr. Fabus… I’m going to need to see you after class…”

He smiled, “Okay, if you say so…”

He went back to reading his gun magazine.

After class ended, she took the magazine out of his hands and flipped through it, after a few seconds she tossed it back down on his desk, “Is this more important than paying attention to my lessons?”

He shrugged, “No… But I know all this already… A friend of my mothers made it a point to teach me Spanish, Latin, Russia, German, Italian, French, and Afrikaans…” Little did Curtis know at the time, but that “friend” of his mother, was actually his biological father.

She sighed, “Mr. Fabus, I’m going to have you come in today after dismissal… I’ll need to speak with you.”

He frowned, “You do know I have a job…”

She shook her head, “I have a copy of your work schedule, you don’t work today…”

He frowned again, “Yeah, but I like to do something called sleep every now and then… But, okay, I’ll be in…”

She grinned at him as he left, “Oh… Mr. Fabus… Don’t be late…”

He stifled a laugh as he walked to his economics class, the old doctor teaching the class enjoyed debating Curtis often. They’d argue over economic systems, Curtis always taking the side of fascism against any other system. Today the teacher was wearing a lame looking suit, Curtis sarcastically chuckled, “Ah, what’s the occasion for the great suit sir?”

The old man smiled, “I’m wearing it to impress you Mr. Fabus… Oh really, be reasonable Mr. Fabus, I always wear a suit, I’m just wearing a different one today…”

Curtis ended up having a test that day, he took it, being the first to finish, and a few days later, he’d find out with the best grade as well, one-hundred percent. His teacher looked at him as he handed in the test with only one-third of the class period over, “Rushing are we Mr. Fabus?”

Curtis shrugged, “Meh, done right done fast is still done right…”

The teacher smiled, “Ah, true, I suppose… So, what are your plans for this weekend, fascist meetings?”

Curtis chuckled and shook his head, “No, nothing like that, a gun show…”

The teacher frowned, “You, with guns? That’s a scary thought… Well, why don’t you leave early since you finished early, go get an early start on whatever it is that you do…”


Curtis nodded, shook his teacher’s hand, said, “Have a nice weekend sir.” And then walked out of the room.

As he was walking around for twenty minutes, he saw something going on that sent him into a fury, two black boys, standing in a corner area of the locker bay, out of sight of most passers-by were bugging a white girl, trying to grope at her and feel her hair. Curtis ran over to them and shouted, “What the fuck are you ni---rs doing?” They both immediately turned and started to laugh, “Wat ju say, white boy!?” one of them said.

Curtis, glaring at both of them, repeated himself, “I said, what the fuck are you ni----rs doing… Maybe since you can’t speak English you can’t understand it either…”

The one black boy rushed at him, and got punched right in the neck, he fell to the ground, choking and gasping for air… Curtis looked at the other one, “You want some?” he beckoned with his hands for the kid to bring it. The boy looked down at his friend, and then up at Curtis, and then he darted off down the hall.


Curtis smiled as he looked at the white girl, she was about sixteen, and one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen, “Hey, are you okay?” he asked her.

She nodded her head, “I am thanks to you… I’m Julia, you’re Curtis Fabus, right?” she asked, blushing.

He nodded back, not knowing what to say, he stumbled over his words… “Yeah.. Me… I me, I mean that’s me, Curtis… I’m Curtis… Fabus.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and giggled, “Thank you for helping me, Curtis…” before she ran off to class.



Curtis smiled as he walked off down the hall, thinking, “Wow, what a day this is turning out to be…” He yawned, the full-weight of being up for twenty-four hours straight started to get to him… He walked over to where Schacht was supposed to be meeting him right now, Schacht smiled as Curtis walked by… In the most discrete manner possible, they walked by each other, Schacht slipped his friend a bottle of amphetamines, homemade by Baldur himself, but better quality and safer that what the pharmacies carried, Baldur was a genius.

Curtis and Baldur stopped, walked back to each other, Curtis patted him quickly on the back, “You’re a good friend, Baldur, thanks, so what happened with the chemical agent stuff? Are you in trouble?”

Baldur shook his head, “No, the principal said that I could go if I gave you this…” Baldur handed Curtis a small note card, it had her home address and phone number on it.

Curtis grinned as he took the card and tucked it into his pocket; he then leaned in and whispered to Baldur, “We’re going tonight, right?”

Baldur nodded, “Yeah, Bert is getting us in, it’s going to be great, I can’t wait to join, I’ve been wanting to join for years… What do you think it’ll be like?”

Curtis shook his head, “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’ll be great… Navarre’s dad is head of the local unit, it’ll be great, I’ll see you later, I’ll be late leaving school though, have to stay after…”

Curtis and Baldur patted each other on the back and both cheered, “It’ll be great!” in unison, before they walked off to their classes.


Curtis sat through about six more hours of classes before the school speaker system came on, it was the track couch, “As you all know, we as an entire school are immensely proud of the fact that one of our own, a junior, Curtis Fabus, set an excellent record for a mile run, four minutes and twelve and one fifth seconds. Let us congratulate him on this wonderful achievement and wish him well as he prepares to compete in the regional tournament.”

Curtis’s classmates in his last class of the day (English) all turned and clapped for him, the teacher, a fat woman, scoffed, “Running, what’s it done for anybody?” she asked.

Fabus frowned, “Running ma’am, keeps the populace fit and trim…”

She frowned back, “Just leave early, Mr. Fabus, you’re getting a ninety-eight percent anyway, you don’t need to be here…”

Curtis sighed and walked down the hall until the dismissal bell rang, which was about six minutes after he’d left English class.

He looked at his watch, felt the switchblade knife he taken from the negro early, in his pocket still, next to his wallet and truck keys. He sighed as he walked up to his Spanish teacher’s office. He knocked on the door, “Ma’am, you wished to see me?”

She grinned, “Yes. Mr. Fabus, come in, please, come in…”

He walked inside, she shut the door and locked it, he sighed, he knew what was coming next, that is he knew after she pulled the curtains down over the door, sat on her desk in such a manner that he knew she was letting him get a good view of her long legs. He smiled at her, “So, what is this all about?”

She smiled, “Well Mr. Fabus, if you like guns so much, I’d like to know if you know how to use one… Do you know how to use a gun?”

Curtis nodded, “Yes… Very well…”

She grinned at him, “Prove it… Show me how you use a gun… Your favorite gun, which one is your favorite?”

He smiled back at her, “Well, we aren’t allowed to have guns in school, but I always keep my favorite with me, I can’t help it.”

About thirty minutes later, he was dressed again and walking out the door, she smiled at him, “I guess you do pay attention in class, you should be able to roll your r’s well if you can work you tongue like that.” He smiled, “Yes, indeed.” And then walked on out to get to his truck.


He looked at his truck, there was a paper under the windshield wiper, “You’re a dead man, cracka boy. We will be lookin to git you soon, watch yur white ass.”

He smiled as he crumbled the note up and tossed it aside, he stepped into his truck, locking both the doors, checking the glove box where he kept a 1911 .45 Caliber pistol, it was there, and loaded, he smiled as he shut the box. He rolled both the windows down and put the casette player on, playing a Johnny Rebel song as he blew his Dixie horn, while pulling out of the parking lot.

He was looking forward to finally doing something he’d always wanted to do, joining the White Knights of Mississippi; he couldn’t wait…

*Tag*

A very interested tag...Thanks for the t-gram

~Sharina offical TAG of approval!~

Nice stuff, DA. Sure fleshes out Curtis a lot.

I'm focusing a lot of my RP attention in the Earth V Incidents thread, as I'm conquering the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia, and Alaska.

Keep up the RP'ing, DA.

Curtis was driving towards his house, about twelve miles away, easily, it was out in the country, a rural area. The house was nice enough, but his family was poor, well they never seemed to have enough money. Ever since his "father" (his real father is alive and well, his real father is the Prince of Neshoba) died of black lung disease about three years ago, Curtis had to take on the responsibility of working in the mines to earn enough money to support himself, his mother, his two sisters and his two brothers.

One of his brothers, who was older than him, was in the Army and was currently stationed in West Germany, and he sent home whatever he could spare. Overall, they managed to get by well enough, although they had to watch their spending. Curtis had no idea how his mother afforded to hire private tutors for them in the summer, but later he'd learn it was his real father, paying lots of money to help raise them.

As he was about three miles down the road, he looked up ahead and saw Julia walking along the side of the road. He slowed his truck and then stopped, as he leaned over to the side and opened the passenger door, "Hey Julia, you want a ride? Hop in." he said with a smile.

She nodded her head, and stepped in, closing the door as she said, "Thank you Curtis... What a nice truck you have."

Curtis smiled but then choked on his words, "Yeah... Uh... Hmmm... Yes, so which way are you heading?"

She giggled, "Whichever way you're going I guess, I don't have anything to do this weekend, you?"

Curtis smiled, "Well can you keep a secret?"

Julia nodded and smiled, "Sure, what is it?"

Curtis, in a whisper said, "I'm joining the WKM this weekend." His voice then went back to a normal level, "That and going to a gun show. Guns are important you know, if we don't take measures to safeguard our rights... Well rest assured those criminals on Capitol Hill won't do a darn thing to help us when push comes to shove, hell I'd be surprised if this darn government lasts till the end of the decade."

Julia smiled, "Oh Curtis, are you the one always publishing those anonymous articles in the local paper?"

Curtis shook his head, "Nah, all my articles, I give my name, I'm not ashamed of what I believe in... Do you disagree with me? Are you upset with my way of thinking?"

Julia immediately shook her head and quickly replied, "Oh no, not at all... I couldn't agree more... It's just, I'm just so glad to meet a boy as nice as you who also happens to believe the right things. It's a shame what's happening to the country, isn't it?"

Curtis nodded, "Indeed it is a shame, and do you know who is making it that way?"

She shrugged, not quite sure, she had some ideas of her own, but most of what she knew came from more eloquent people such as Curtis, her preacher, and some of the local WKM leaders... "I guess, it's the Jews, right?"

Curtis smiled, happy to hear her say that, "Yes, you bet, it's them alright, they've been working hard to turn our people from pure and clean into mongrelized perverts. And they're turning our land from clean, prosperous, and safe, into a pathetic wasteland not fit for a common ni---r."

Julia nodded, "Hmmm. So what do you think can be done or should be done to stop this?"

Curtis tapped his right hand hard against the steering wheel as he spoke, "We can rise up! We can take back what is rightfully ours!"

Julia giggled, "Oh Curtis, conspiring to overthrow the government? Who would lead the nation if the government was toppled."

Curtis raised a brow and grinned, "How about me?"

She giggled again, stifling a laugh, "Well, I think you'd make a fine leader..."

She sighed as she pointed to the road she wanted him to turn down, "That one..."

He frowned and looked over at her, "Are you okay? You sound upset..."

She shook her head, "No, I'm fine, it's just, well my parents are in Europe and so the house is empty and it's lonely..."

Curtis smiled, "Well, maybe you'll find somebody who can keep you company?"

Julia shook her head and sighed, while grinning though, "Curtis, so are the stories I've heard about you true? You have a one-tracked mine?"

Curtis shook his head, and gestured in a dismissive manner with his hand, "Absolutely not! Those rumors are vicious lies spread by those who have as their agenda, the ruination of my outstanding reputation and my moral character that is beyond reproach."

She raised a brow, "Really Curtis? Well, I guess it's too bad you're so upstanding, I was hoping you might stay a while this weekend... But I guess if that's immoral and wrong..."

Curtis shrugged, "Hey, nobody said I couldn't stay over and we just talk, right?"

She smiled, "Okay, I'll cook you dinner, what do you want?"

Curtis chuckled, "Oh no, you don't have to do that." Although he was quite glad she was offering to cook for him, he believed all women should know how to cook and should cook often. Besides, he was quite hungry.

Julia frowned, "But what if I like to cook?" She then giggled a little, "Don't worry... I assure you, my cooking won't kill you..."

Curtis smiled, "Okay, if you say so, I take your word for it..."

She pointed to her house, it was back in the woods, off the road, he turned down the gravel path that led to her house, after a few minutes of driving, he was there, it was quite large, at least twelve thousand square feet.
His jaw dropped, "Wow, you sure have a nice place here..."

She smiled as he stopped his truck on the cement driveway in front of the garage, "Yes, it is nice isn't it?"

He nodded as he stepped out of the truck, walked around, and opened her door for her, "Well then, shall we go inside?" he asked.

She smiled and slowly slid out of the truck, slipping a little, but her caught her... He was holding her in his arms, she was looking into his eyes, he smiled at her, she then kissed him, and he kissed her back...

After about twenty seconds, she leaned out of the kiss and chuckled, "Okay, Curtis, this is the part where you put me down and we go inside..."

He stuttered, "Ah... Hmmm... Ummm... Yeah... Oh yeah, sorry..." he then set her down gently on the ground and they both walked inside.

She sat him down in a chair in the living room and then walked into her father's private office, opening his liquor cabinet, she yelled back into the other room, "Would you like something to drink?"

Curtis replied, "Yes, brandy will do fine, thank you..."

She brought him a glass of brandy, he took the glass from her and smiled, "Thanks..." he said.

She nodded and sat down in the chair next to him, "You're welcome, my pleasure."

She smiled as he started to sip his drink, "So, Curtis, what are your plans for after high school, are you going to college, the military, what exactly do you want to do? You are one of the smartest boys in the school and a fine athlete, you'd probably be a success at whatever you decide to do..."

Curtis blushed slightly, "Well, I think that this country is just the wrong place to raise a family, under the current conditions anyway, so I will probably move..."

Julia frowned, "Move? Where to?"

Curtis shrugged, "South Africa or Argentina... I could go to a university there and then get a job as an engineer with the Stahlecker Munitions Company, perhaps I could join the South African army, their special forces are very nice..."

She kept frowning, "Curtis, those sound like rather dangerous plans, don't you think maybe you'd consider staying in America, specifically staying in Mississippi?"

Curtis nodded, "Yeah, I suppose, but I'm not sure, it all depends I guess..."

She seemed intrigued by his statement, "Depends on what?"

He shrugged his shoulders a little as he said, "I'm not sure, I guess it all depends if I have to take care of my siblings and mother, or if I have a wife and my own kids by then, there are too many variables to decide right now..."

She smiled, "Children, you want children?"

Curtis nodded, "Oh yes, it's the sacred duty of all white people to reproduce often and make sure they raise their children well... Do you want children?"

Julia eagerly nodded her head, "Yes... But I'm not sure how many, I suppose that'll be the decision of whoever I marry, as a woman it wouldn't be my place to tell a man how things are going to be..."

Curtis smiled as she said that, he was thinking, "Wow..." he then sat in silence for a few seconds before asking, "So, what do you want to do when you're done with school, go to college?"

She shook her head, "No, college, what woman needs to go there? I already know how to cook, clean, and I've taken home economics classes in school, so what good is college? I won't need a college degree to keep a household running properly and to do as my husband says.. I just don't think women should work outside of the house, it results in the kids being given a substandard upbringing, they're either raised in so-called child-care, which is really child miscare, or they are raised by baby-sitters... Why trust other people to raise your kids. And anyway, if God didn't want women to submit to men, he wouldn't have made man first, you know?"

Curtis kept smiling as he kept thinking to himself, "Wow..."

She looked at him and smiled, "Well Curtis, how do you like your drink?"

He smiled, "It's very nice, thank you..."

Curtis looked around, "Is there somewhere I can put my boots, my feet are starting to sweat a lot in these boots..."

Julia shook her head, "No, but I can but them away for you... I wouldn't want you getting up, what sort of hostess makes her guests work?"

She helped him get his boots off (Rhodesian boots, given to him by his mothers "friend") and then put them in the front closet.

She looked at him, "So, Curtis, would you care for a cigar?"

He frowned, "Ah... I don't know... Cigars, that's not good for the lungs, and I'm in track..."

She smiled, "You don't have to inhale you know..."

He nodded, "Okay then, sure, I'll take one, please."

She took out a cigar from the box in her father’s office, cut it, walked back to the living room, and leaned in close to Curtis, placing the cigar in his mouth before she lit it with a match for him.

He exhaled on it, "Thanks." he said with a smile.

Julia stood up, smiling and said, "I'm going to go start work on your dinner, it'll take a while, it won't be ready for at least four or five hours..." She grinned at him, "What do you want to do in the meanwhile?"

Curtis looked at his watch, "Oh, darn, I have to run, WKM initiation is in an hour, I'll be back within three hours though, probably no later than eight, okay?" he frowned, he didn't want to have to leave her, but he had to be there for initiation.

She forced a smile, "Okay, I understand..." Julia then gave him a grin, "Well, you hurry back now, okay, Curtis."

He gave a slight nod of the head, "Oh, you bet I'll hurry back."

He then walked out to his truck, got in, and drove off down the path and back onto the main road to head to the farm that the initiation was going to be held on.

really good

[tag]

[Tag]

You need anyone to play any other characters?

A definate official tag!!

tag

bump

Yo R-B get back into your party thread.

*tag*

Really great job DA. I am ammazed at the fact that you use alot of last names that are actually last names used in Louisiana as well as Mississippi. In RL I know 5 or 6 Bertrand's.

I might have to add a tid-bit later on when the thread progresses. Other than that your doing a great job.

Curtis slowly pulled off to the side of the road as he arrived at the farm, there was really nowhere else to park. There were four police cars present at the farm, two were state troopers, and two were deputy sheriffs from Neshoba County.

Curtis smiled as he saw a trio of men approach him, they handed him a blindfold and said, “Put it on.” After he did, they took him forward down a dirt path and walked for what seemed like twenty or thirty minutes, back into the woods.

In a clearing, they removed his blindfold and took him into a large wooden building, his friends, Wilhelm Ernst, Fritz Ernst, Baldur Von Schacht, and Bertrand Navarre were all kneeling down on the floor inside the structure, a large man in a robe and hood, with his mask pulled down stood before them. Curtis was ushered in and knelt alongside his friends.

There was a table before them, on which lay a sword, a rope, and an open bible. The ceremony began.

The man looked at each of the boys, “Do you come before this Klavern entirely of your own free will, to seek admission into the invisible empire for the betterment of this order and not for personal gain or glory?” Each boy replied yes.

The man continued, “Do you believe in the one true God, the Lord Almighty, creator of the heaven and Earth, and of his one and only one son, Jesus Christ, the only hope for salvation of mankind, and do you believe in the Holy Ghost?” Each boy replied yes.

The man slightly nodded his head, “Can you honestly assert that you are not now nor have you ever been a member of the communist party?” Each boy replied yes.

The man continued, “Do you recognize that a powerful force exists in the world, a force of evil, and that your only hope to survive against this force is faith in the Lord, Jesus Christ?” Each boy replied yes.

The questions continued for about five minutes, mostly about religious faith, political loyalty, and personal morality. Each boy answered with a yes, as the questions were designed so yes was the answer that was the right one, and a no answer would warrant investigation into the matter. Each boy honestly answered with a yes that is.


There were some specific questions asked of Navarre, because he was a Roman Catholic.

The masked man looked at him, “To whom will you owe your allegiance? To the demon in Rome or to your God, your countrymen, and your fellow klansmen.”

Navarre enthusiastically answered, “Not to the demon in Rome, not to him, but to my God, my Nation, and my people.”

The masked man smiled behind his mask, and then asked, “Would you owe your allegiance to an immoral papist, or a righteous protestant? Would you support a papist solely on the grounds of his supporting popery?”

Navarre shook his head, “No, I’m not a supporter of popery, the Pope is the anti-Christ, but I believe in traditional Catholic doctrine.”

There were a few more questions asked, Navarre answered them all well enough and thus he was accepted in.


Curtis smiled as he and the others were led out of the building and then out of the woods, they were in the WKM now…

Curtis was tired still, and now he could get back to Julia, and see how she was doing. Perhaps he’d take her up on her offer to spend the weekend with her. Yes, he’d do that…


One of the klansmen smiled at him and patted him on the back, “Well boy, now you have only to get yourself a robe and then you’ll sure look keen…”

Fabus smiled, “Darn right, sir.”

The two men shook hands and then Curtis and his friends went off to their vehicles and drove away.

On the way back to the main county road, Curtis was cut-off by a large black Cadillac, it slammed it’s brakes right in front of him and he had to swerve and pull off the road to avoid hitting it.

Two white youths stepped out of the Cadillac and walked up to his truck, he had his .45 caliber pistol ready, until he saw they were wearing suits and he knew that they were thugs working for Frank (Frankie) Salvatore.

One of them smiled at him, “Curtis, out of the truck, get in the Cadillac, the boss wants a word with you, okay?”

Curtis shook his head, “No, not now, I’m going to a girl’s house…”

The younger of the two boys shook his head, “No, don’t worry, I’ll drive your truck there for you, and the driver will take you there in the Cadillac, you and the boss can talk on the way… Okay?”

Curtis nodded and stepped out, letting the boy get in, he asked, “Where am I driving to?”

Curtis smiled, “You know Julia, Julia Dorothea… Yes?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, I think I can find the place, anyway, just tell the boss’s driver and he’ll get you there, I’ll follow you…”


Curtis nodded and walked up to the Cadillac, the other boy opened the door and helped him get in, then went around and got in the front passenger seat. The driver was given the instructions and he started off.

Frank Salvatore was sitting in the backseat, next to Curtis. He smiled as he exhaled on his expensive cigar, offering one to Curtis who promptly said, “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

Frank chuckled, “Well let’s get to the point shall we, I know you have a small band of capable men, you’ve been trained by ex-Rhodesian SAS and other ex-special forces, don’t ask how I know, but like I said, Philadelphia Mississippi is my city, Neshoba County is my county, I know everything that goes on here… I have a job for you all to do, if you do it, you can have 30% of the take and keep the equipment… I provide the equipment, the plans, and the stuff that will get you in and out.. I also provide the lawyers if you blow it and get caught… Deal?”

Curtis sighed, “What sort of job, where?”

Frank smiled, “The Federal Reserve Bank, in Chicago…”

Curtis nearly laughed, “Are you serious?”

Frank nodded his head, “Damn right I’m serious, I want you and five or six of your closest friends, working with two or three of my guys, all armed to the teeth, with body armor, gas masks, automatic rifles, the works, to take the place over, and clean it out… You’ll escape via a tunnel we’ve been working on for months, it’ll take you two hundred yards to the basement of a nearby office building, from where you can change clothes, and sneak into some vehicles we’ll have waiting for you on the opposite side of the building, in the parking garage, we’ve been planning this for nine months… It won’t fail, trust me.”

Curtis nodded his head, “Let me look over the plans, I’ll tell you what I think… But not today, okay, I have to be somewhere…”

Frank grinned, “Yeah, I know what you mean”, he said, as the car was coming to a halt outside Julia’s house.

Curtis patted him on the back as he hugged him, “I shall await your call, Don Salvatore.”

Frank smiled, “Hey, I’m not Don yet… And anyway, I’ll be in touch, you won’t have long to wait…”

Curtis smiled, “You’ll be Don soon enough… Somehow I just know it, and don’t call me too, soon…” He grinned, “I might be… Busy…”

He stepped out of the car, the boy stepped out of his truck after parking it on the driveway. He then walked over into the Cadillac, got in, and it pulled away.


Curtis walked up to the door and went in, the door was unlocked, Julia was waiting for him, smiling, “Hello Curtis, having a nice evening? Did you have fun?”

Curtis nodded, “Yeah, but not as nice as I’m having now, being here with you, in your presence…”

She giggled and blushed, “Oh Curtis, you’ve such a way with words…”

He shook his head, “Nah, just being honest, it’s proper to be honest, and I can honestly say, there isn’t a gal alive, or dead for that matter, that has anything compared to you.”

Curtis actually did feel this way, when he looked at her, he felt something he couldn’t explain, he wanted to be with her, but not just to sleep with her, but to be with her, forever. He’d never felt this way before, he smiled at her as she smiled back at him.

She broke the awkward silence, “Dinner should be ready shortly…”

Curtis nodded his head, “Yes, dinner… So when are your parents coming back from… Europe is it?”

Julia frowned, “Who knows, they go off places for months on end, I have to take care of myself and keep the house in good shape… It gets awfully lonely and boring around here…”

She walked by Curtis on her way to the kitchen, swatting him on the butt, “Maybe you might liven things up?”

Curtis blushed, “Maybe…” He didn’t want to just sleep with her immediately, no, she was better than that, he knew she probably thought he wanted to, and was acting so to please him, but he didn’t want that. She was better than any of the other women he’d been with, she was actually somebody he could see himself being with in the future, something more than just sex, much more

Curtis smiled and pleasantly sighed as he walked into the kitchen to see if she needed help…

OOC: I like the mafia part. Its good in general though. I hope the mafia part develops more.

After an excellent dinner, Curtis was sitting back in his chair, reclining a little; Julia stood up, walked over, and sat in his lap. He blushed a little and smiled as he said, “Comfortable?” She nodded and smiled back, “Very…”

She started to kiss his neck as she gently slid a hand down into his pants.

Curtis didn’t quite like where this was going, but her liked her and didn’t want to upset her, so he didn’t say anything.

He could feel her hand, that was all he could feel, the only sensation existing for him currently; he closed his eyes and tried to shut out everything else. Before he knew it, she had pulled his pants down, slid off his lap, and was kneeling in front of him. He looked at her, “Julia… You don’t have to…” She interrupted him, “But I want to…” He nodded, “Okay… But only if you really want to.”

After she was done, she looked up at him and smiled, “Curtis, can we go upstairs now?”

He wanted her so badly he could barely concentrate on anything else, and he didn’t want to upset or disappoint her, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with sleeping with her, he’d marry her if she’d agree… He smiled and nodded, “Yeah, let’s go…”

He gently lifted her up into his arms and carried her upstairs. When they were finished nearly an hour later, she was lying next to him, gently running her finger along his chest, “Curtis, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but what happened to your father?”

Curtis shook his head; “He died of black lung when I was only thirteen…”

She shook her head, “No, that man couldn’t have been your father… I knew him, I knew the stories about him, and you couldn’t have come from one such as he.” (It was common knowledge Curtis hated his father, and got into fist fights with him, and thus she felt safe in saying things that were less than pleasant about the man)

Curtis nodded slightly, “Yes, I don’t know though… I mean he hit mother and I, and he was rotten… So I don’t know, are you saying…”

She interjected, whispering in his ear, “I’m saying you’re far too noble and chivalrous to have been the product of one so base…”

Curtis shook his head, “Me, a noble, no… It couldn’t be…”

She smiled as she gently kissed him, “One day Curtis, we may find out that you’ve blue blood running through your veins, who knows… You will be a great man Curtis, I can sense it.”

Curtis looked into her eyes, “So, was that your first time?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yes, and it was wonderful, you were great, Curtis…”

He could tell that she was indeed telling the truth, it was her first time.

She looked at him, “Are you okay?” She then kissed him.

Curtis smiled, nodded, kissed her back, and then slowly drifted off to sleep.




After the most memorable weekend in his life, Curtis and his friends were ready to carry out the Federal Reserve job. Their school was closed for some pagan holiday that ran an entire week and nobody really knew why, it was like when they stopped serving food in the cafeteria during Ramadan, so as not to offend the entire two Muslim students in the school… Or when they stopped offering pork products so as not to often the whole four Jews in the school, or beef products so as not to offend the one Hindu. It was diversity of oppression; each backwards culture bringing their own oppressive rules into the game and forcing them on a supposedly tolerant society.

White society had become tolerant of all cultures except white culture, self-guilt, self-hate, and self-criticism were the orders of the day. A people that forsake their past, had no future. And Curtis could tell if they continued down this road, they’d have no future. The race that stuck together the best would win, the race that loved itself the most would win. Tolerance of those who seek only to conquer, expand their influence, and destroy you, is nothing but passively resigning yourself to death, or at best a form of submissive mediocrity.


Curtis, Bertrand, Baldur, Fritz, Wilhelm, and four of their most trusted friends were driving to Illinois in three stolen cars with fake plates.

Curtis, Bertrand, and Baldur were in one car, a 1975 black Cadillac Eldorado.

Fritz Ernst and two of his other friends were in a 1974 white Monte Carlo.

Wilhelm Ernst and the other two boys were in a 1974 green Jeep.

Each of the boys had a duffle bag that contained the following

Type-56 rifle (Chinese folding stock AK-47) or an UZI-9mm Paratrooper carbine
6 standard magazines (either 30 round AK magazines, or 25 round UZI magazines)
2 Drum magazines (75 rnd drums if they have an AK)
1 1911-A1 .45 caliber pistol with six (6) 7 round magazines.
1 suit of tactical body armor (weight, 20 pounds)
1 ski mask
2 pairs of medical gloves
1 roll of duct tape
1 lighter
2 bundles of TNT, with detonator, blasting caps, remote activation, cord, (10 pounds total)
Assorted other supplies (total weight of assorted stuff, about 30lbs)

Curtis was checking his Type 56 as Baldur was driving, Curtis pointed the gun at him and chuckled, “Bang!” as he pulled the trigger, it was empty, he had just checked it and made more than double sure. Baldur frowned, “Don’t fuck around, sheesh, you scared the hell out of me…”

Curtis shook his head, “It wasn’t loaded, I just checked…”

As they were driving, through Tennessee, Curtis kicked back and took a few swigs from his flask, passing it to Bertrand, who took a swig, and then passing it to Baldur who pushed it back, “I’m driving, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Curtis shrugged, “Damn, Baldur, relax a little… I bet you haven’t even ever had any pussy, have you?”

Baldur shuddered at the mention of that word; he hated hearing it referred to as that, “Damnit Curtis, what’s wrong with you? Can’t a guy drive without being grossed out by you?”

Bertrand chuckled, “Damn, Baldur, you sure are a prude…” He then put his hands over Baldur’s eyes, “Guess who!”

Baldur started to swerve, jumping over into the other lane, heading for oncoming traffic; Curtis grabbed the wheel and jerked them back into their own lane… Baldur shouted, “See what you almost made me do? Grow up you two! Act your fucking age!”

Curtis sighed and leaned back, falling into a nap… Bertrand sat in silence, ashamed and embarrassed that his attempts at humor almost got them all hurt or worse… But he was just trying to lighten the mood, Baldur needed somebody to help him relax, he was always so uptight and serious, never relaxing, never drinking with his buddies, well rarely. And he never would just sit around and talk, he was always working.



Bertrand fiddled around with his UZI for a few minutes before he tucked it back into the bag and fell asleep in the back seat, as Baldur and Curtis sat in the front, Curtis still asleep, Baldur driving…

A few hours later, they were stopped at a rest area. Wilhelm Ernst and his car were also at the same rest area. Wilhelm was drunk, he’d been drinking heavily on the way up into Tennessee, and it really started to show…

Curtis slapped him in the face and shouted, “Getting drunk before such an important thing, real smart…”

Wilhelm shrugged, “It’s not for three days you know, we’ll be up there later tonight, and rest for two days, so what’s the big deal…”
Curtis shook his head, walked into the bathroom, used it, and then walked out and got back into the car. Bertrand was driving now, while Curtis was tinkering with some of his ammunition, dipping the rounds into cyanide.


Before they knew it, they were in Chicago, well actually about thirty minutes outside of the main section of the city, where the Federal Reserve was to be found.

The appointed day came, the Cadillac Eldorado rolled up to the front of the Federal Reserve, the Jeep, and the Monte Carlo were also pulling up. They all had their masks on.

The boys were readying their weapons.

Curtis had a Type 56 (he also had six drum magazines, rather than the standard two that everybody else carried)
Bertrand had an UZI
Baldur had a Type 56
Fritz had an UZI
Wilhelm had a Type 56
Three of the others had Type 56s
The last of the boys had an UZI.

Curtis smiled as he readjusted his ski mask, his Type 56 tucked under his trench coat, the stock folded up, he grinned at Navarre, “Ready to rob some Yankees?”

Bertrand grinned back, “Sure thing…”

They fast walked up to the building and then rushed in. Nobody much noticed anything as it was February in Chicago and ski masks were normal in this weather. However two guards up front saw Schacht was carrying something heavy and big under his coat they shouted and vainly tried to draw their revolvers, Curtis whipped his Type 56 out from under his coat and silenced the both of them, giving each a quick burst.

He then fired into the air as his cohorts split up to secure all the entrances. They shut the main door, locking it tight with a chain and lock.

Curtis shouted, “Listen up, I’m only saying this once, any of you all move, and it’s bye bye for you… Nobody move and nobody gets hurt.”

Two more guards were slowly creeping forward from behind a counter, Baldur, who was on the second floor of the facility, looked down and saw them. He raised his Type 56 and fired, they dove for cover, he then fired the entire magazine, suppressing them and causing them to seek better cover. Navarre rushed into a good position and tossed a bundle of TNT at the two guards, it blew up, sending the counter flying forward and scaring the hell out of everybody else present at the time.


There were five or six more guards; they all slowly walked out from where they were, setting their pistols down gently on the ground. They were all forced to lie prone and then were bound with duct tape, as were all others present in the bank.

Both of the Ernst brothers were watching out the front windows while Curtis and Bertrand patrolled the main lobby and the guarded those who were restrained. Baldur and two of the other boys were filling empty bags with the money. The other two boys had split up, one guarding the rear exit/entrance, and another guarding a side door.

Suddenly four more men appeared inside the bank, having come from the basement, they were also wearing masks and carrying Type 56s and UZIs, they were Frankie’s boys, there to help get the money out through the tunnel.

Curtis smiled from behind his mask as they started moving wheelbarrows full of bags of money down to the basement. He then sharply turned and shouted, “Don’t look at me!” firing a burst in the air above a man who was trying to look at his eyes. The man immediately buried his head back into the carpeted floor of the area immediately in front of the information booth he was lying prone in front of.

Ever since the great race riots of 1972, 1973, 1974, and 1975, all major Northern cities (and most Southern cities) had federal garrisons of at least a regiment of infantry and more often than not, a tank battalion and some artillery. Chicago was no exception, indeed Chicago had at least six infantry regiments assigned to it as part of the “Regional Mobile Security Force”, however five of the regiments were in Michigan on joint-maneuvers with the “Detroit Domestic Defense Brigade” and the “Indianapolis Internal Security Regiment”, most of the forces were officially government sponsored and technically US Army, however the vast majority were private security firms, forces hired by the wealthy in vain attempts to safeguard their property and persons.

As the alarms had started going off at the bank, no less than sixteen police officers responded to the scene. The black and white squad cars taking up positions around the building. There were six police running for the front door, advancing in teams of two.

Suddenly the men inside could hear, “This is the Chicago Police Department, throw down your weapons and exit with your hands above your head. You are totally surrounded.”

Wilhelm Ernst smashed out the glass on one of the front doors, leaned his Type 56 out and let loose a barrage of fire, emptying an entire 75 round drum at the police. They immediately for cover as the fire came in. Two were killed outright, and three of the remaining four were wounded. They panicked, the one man not so seriously wounded helped the unwounded man drag their two critically injured comrades back behind some nearby civilian cars for cover. One of the men then raced for his car, dodging fire from Fritz’s UZI. He made it to the car, diving inside and immediately calling backup.

Within ten minutes, there were no less than forty-two police officers surrounding the bank. And the mayor had promised that a platoon of the “Regional Mobile Security Force” regiment currently present in the city would assist the police. They were being mobilized and readied, and would be able to respond within about two hours at the most.


Curtis sighed as he heard them repeating on the bullhorn, “We have you totally surrounded, come out with your hands in the air!”

After about an hour of loading money onto wheelbarrows and taking it out through the tunnel, they decided they had plenty and they would be hard-pressed to get it all out in the vehicles, so they’d better leave now…


Suddenly a SWAT truck pulled up outside… Fritz Ernst shouted, “Company, serious company!”

Curtis sighed as he heard them repeating on the bullhorn, “We have you totally surrounded, come out with your hands in the air!”

He adjusted his rifle, slung and hanging across his chest, and then called for Wilhelm and Baldur, and one of the other boys with a Type 56 to follow him. They followed their leader as he unchained the door and readied to step outside.

Curtis then picked up a bag that he had dropped near the door when they first made their way into the bank. He hadn’t told anybody what was inside.

Curtis set his Type 56 down and unzipped the bag, removing an RPG-7 launcher… He quickly loaded it, kicked the door open, and took aim. Baldur, Wilhelm, Fritz, and the other boy were providing cover fire. Suddenly the rocket sailed forward, a bright orange stream shouting out from the back of the launcher. It moved forward and at about 200 meters out, crashed right into the side of the SWAT van, sending it up in flames as officers nearby scurried for cover.


Curtis tucked the empty launcher back into the bag and shut the door. They all started to make their way for the tunnel, as they went, the start the setoff TNT bundles near the doors and just outside on the column supports, to send shrapnel towards the police to keep them from attempting to advance too soon.

Within an hour, they were in their vehicles and a few miles outside of the city. As they had exited the city, six platoons from the Regional Mobile Security Force were arriving and surrounding the bank… But they were long gone.

When the soldiers and police finally stormed the bank, they found it was empty of bank robbers, and most of the money. All they found were the bound and gagged guards and other workers. Whoever had robbed the bank was long gone.


Twelve hours later, in central Arkansas…

Curtis and Bertrand were at the farmhouse they were going to meet Frank and his men at to split up the money. They had already started counting it, waiting for Frank and his men to arrive. Thus far they’d counted over 70 million dollars. All the radio was talking about was, “Authorities across the nation are advised to be on the look-out for an unknown number of men who assaulted the Federal Reserve Bank and made off with tens of millions of dollars, killing numerous police officers on their way.”

Curtis turned the TV on, he wanted to see the exploits of his group, the mayor of Chicago was talking, “We don’t know exactly how much they stole, but what we do know is that eight members of the SWAT team are dead, four bank guards are dead, twelve police officers are dead, and dozens more injured… These people won’t get away with this. We won’t rest until they’re tracked down and brought to justice…”

Bertrand erupted with laughter, pointing his UZI at the TV, “Justice eh!” he made shooting sounds with his mouth, and spat in the direction of the TV, “Justice favors the rich!” he shouted.

Curtis smiled, “That’s a good motto..”

Fritz Ernst was rapidly counting all the money, “You gentlemen have taken seventy six million, two hundred and twenty five thousand, nine hundred and twenty dollars… Congratulations, we’ve done it!”

Frankie arrived shortly after that and he split the money with them, letting them keep 40% for pulling off the job that he had planned and equipped them to do.

Curtis smiled as he patted his buddy Frank on the back, “Thank you Don Salvatore for your generosity…”

Frankie shook his head, “No, thank you for performing a valuable service for the Salvatore family, I am indebted to you. If you ever need something, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Curtis nodded, hugging his buddy again, “Thank you, don, thank you.”

Frank nodded and then got back into his Cadillac as his men loaded the money into two other cars.

Curtis and his group were splitting the money up amongst themselves, each keeping a portion of it, but most would go to the resistance effort they’d been working towards for the last few years. They were each heading back to Mississippi in groups of two or three, in different cars, their get-away cars being taken by Frank’s men down into Louisiana to be dumped into the Mississippi after being burnt and stripped of parts.

After each of the boys arrived back in Mississippi, they altered their weapons, changing the firing pins, altering the stocks, the grips, some even changed the entire receivers, whatever happened now, they’d be fine if they kept their weapons. Anyway, none of them wanted to discard their weapons.

Curtis stuffed two Type 56 rifles, an UZI, a 1911 pistol, 20 loaded magazines for each, and 3,000 rounds of ammunition (in ammo cans) for each, into a 55 gallon oil drum, which he packed with grease and, sealed, and then buried five feet deep on a friends farm. He made sure to do it in the middle of the day so nobody who might hear digging or metal clanging would think it anything more than routine farm chores.

It had been two days since the bank job, and the incompetent FBI was racing about the country trying to get leads, they were working under the assumption it was either left-wing radicals, or the East Coast Mafia.


It was about 7 pm that Friday, Curtis was at Bertrand’s house, a large house, not nearly as large as Julia’s, but much larger than his own. He was enjoying sitting around in the comfortable chairs, smoking cigars and drinking brandy with his best friend…

Navarre then suggested something, “Curtis, do you think we should invite some women over?”

Curtis shrugged, “Nah… I don’t know… I mean… Well… I don’t really want… What I mean is…”

Navarre seemed shocked, while he himself had never had sex; he knew his best friend would probably jump at the chance to get some girls… This was abnormal, totally not Curtis at all. Something was wrong.

Bertrand looked at Curtis, “Are you sure you’re the same Curtis Fabus that was here last month when I had that sweet party that is still the talk of the town?” (Curtis had sex with four gals that party, one right after the other)

Curtis shook his head, all he could think of was Julia, “Of course I’m Curtis Fabus… Just… I guess… Well… More mature perhaps…”

Bertrand nodded, and then realized his exhausted, and somewhat drunk, friend, had just fallen asleep in the large reclining chair he was in. Navarre covered Curtis up with a blanket and then went to call Baldur on the phone to see what he was doing.

OOC: Continue the Mafia exploits!

The FBI was going crazy trying to determine who was behind the Federal Reserve Bank robbery in Chicago, but they had no leads. However, they did no one thing, one of the robbers was about 6’3 and had deadly accurate aim, maybe it was just a hunch, but one of the field agents in Mississippi seemed to remember a tall boy winning numerous state shooting competitions, a tall racist boy.

Curtis was outside his house chopping logs for fire wood, placing each log on a stump and then bringing his axe heavily down on it, splitting them in two then handing them to his older sister Mary for her to but into a wheelbarrow which when it got full enough, he would wheel over and place them alongside the shed.

A black sedan started to pull up the driveway, Curtis looked to Mary, whispering, “Go inside…” He knew what was going on and she immediately went inside, shutting and locking the door. Curtis felt his holster and made sure his 1911 was still on him, it was.

As the two agents stepped out of the car and walked up towards him, he kept chopping wood. One of them smiled a bit and flashed a badge, “Curtis Fabus, we’d like a few words with you, if you don’t mind.”

He decided to act like an idiot, give them something they’d expect, “I ain’t talking to no Yankees. Ya’ll bes’ just git on back up to Jew York City or wherever the hell is you boys from.”

One of the agents had to stifle a laugh as he whispered to his partner, “Typical inbred redneck.”

Suddenly Curtis whipped out his pistol and shouted, “Okay, you two, drop them, real nice and slow, you want to talk to me, we’ll talk, but I’m not letting anybody carry a gun onto my property without my permission, and you’re on my property and you don’t have my permission to carry guns, got it?”

One of the agents was shaking in his shoes, the other one looked at him defiantly, “Pulling a gun on a federal agent, threatening us, are you crazy Fabus?”

Curtis cocked the hammer back on his 1911, “No, but after what your sort did over in Alabama, at that Klan rally, well drop your guns, now.”

A few months back in Alabama, sixty FBI agents and two hundred federal marshals had surrounded a building the Klan was holding a gather in, they had warrants for their arrest, for violation of international anti- “Hate speech” laws. The men in question were to be arrested, some were slated for deportation to Israel for violation of anti- “Holocaust Denial” laws and some were to be sent to the U.S.S.R. for violation of laws that prevented speaking out against Communism. After they refused to come out, a shootout ensued, forty-two agents were injured and eight killed, they ended up firing grenades into the building killing twenty-six klansmen, and some of their children that were there.

The agents both reluctantly took out their pistols and tossed them on the ground. Fabus decocked his pistol and tucked it back into the holster, “Okay, now we can talk.” He said as he picked up their pistols and put them into a nearby toolbox, “You’ll get them back, don’t worry.”

One of the agents nodded and started the questioning, “Mr. Fabus, have you ever been outside of this state?”

Curtis nodded his head, “Yes.”

The other agent asked, “Where?”

Curtis smiled, “Portugal, Spain, Italy, South Africa, South-West Africa, Rhodesia, Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay, France, Austria, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Florida, Tennessee, Missouri, Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, and Kentucky, and maybe a few other places.”

The agents were both impressed with the list he gave them, the one agent asked, “How about Illinois, say Chicago, ever been there?”

Curtis shook his head, and with a straight-face he said, “No, never been there, I hear it’s nice though, the Field Museum and all.”

One of the agents nodded, “Yeah, it is nice… Say, do you remember where you were February 19th… Or even that entire weekend, where were you?”

Curtis smiled, “Oh, where was I… A gentleman never tells.”

The agent rolled his eyes, “The whole weekend?”

Curtis shook his head, “Well I was also at a gathering for a social club.”

The other agent sighed, “Would this social club happen to be the White Knights of Mississippi?”

Curtis shrugged, “Who are they?”

The agent sighed again, “What were you doing, and who can corroborate it?”

Curtis smiled, “Playing poker and drinking with some friends. You can ask Bertrand Navarre, Baldur Von Schacht, Fritz Ernst, and Wilhelm Ernst, we were all playing poker.”

The agent asked, “All weekend?”

Curtis nodded and answered, “Yeah.”

The agents whispered to each other for a few seconds, one saying, “Should we go check out the others?”

The other agent nodded, “Yeah, in a bit.”

The first agent then turned back to Curtis, “So, can we come in for a minute?”

Curtis smiled, “No.” He then grinned and shook his head, “I’m not an idiot, if I let you in, you can legally search the premises to assure nothing harmful to yourselves is in the immediate area…”

The agent frowned, “No, nothing like that, we just… Well I need a glass of water.”

Fabus motioned with his head, craning his neck a bit, motioning at a hose, “Over there, it’s good enough for my dog, it’s good enough for you.”

The agent sighed, “Anyway, we’ve got to be going, thank you for your time Mr. Fabus. Here is my card, call me if you think of anything new or hear anything.”

He handed Curtis a card with his number on it, Curtis then took the card and shook his hand, “Thank you… Oh here you go.” He handed each of the agents their pistols back, “You boys better make sure you read the signs next time, no guns on this property without my permission, you all might have gotten yourselves shot had I thought you were terrorists, anyway, have a nice day.”

The agents smiled, both saying, “You too.” Before they walked back to their car and slowly turned around and headed off back down the dirt road leading out of the woods.

Curtis walked back to the tree stump, picked up his axe and started chopping wood again as he yelled for his sister to, “Come on out, they’re gone.” She unlocked the door, setting the M-16 rifle she had down against the wall right inside the door as she came out, “It’s clear?”

Curtis nodded, “Yeah, Mary, they’re gone… Anyway, take the rest of this wood over by the shed, I have to call some people…” Curtis brought the axe down one last time and split the last of the logs he planned to chop for the day. He then carried the axe over to the shed, put it back in place, and then went inside to call and warn his friends to prepare for the Feds to be stopping by their houses and asking questions.



His friends were questioned and none of them gave any important answers to any important questions. But still the FBI continued their surveillance and investigation of their prime suspects, Curtis being the chief suspect.

Finally a few weeks later, Curtis was at home when suddenly FBI agents came crashing through the doors, shouting, “Nobody move! Curtis Fabus, you’re under arrest for racketeering and violation of RICO laws…”

Curtis smiled as they handcuffed him, “I’ll be out in twenty-four hours…” he said with a grin before spitting in the face of the agent in front of him.

The agent shook his head and then hit Curtis right in the stomach as hard as he could, Curtis barely flinched, rather smiling as he said, “See the thing about you and me is, I’ve got a truck and a Cadillac, you’ve got a piece of shit from a dump, and in ten years, I’ll have more than your entire department will have… So you go ahead and arrest me, my lawyers will be all over you…”

The agents shoved him into a car and drove off to the regional Headquarters in Mobile, Alabama.

Curtis actually did get out soon, sooner than he thought, about six hours later, they didn’t have enough to make anything stick, and the agents were chewed out by their boss for “Hassling an honest businessman” (the boss was on the take)

Curtis was picked up at the FBI regional headquarters by a car sent by Frankie, he smiled as he stepped in, they started to drive, “Which way are we going, this is the wrong way, isn’t it? Mississippi is that way…”

The man shook his head, “We’re going to Miami, the boss wants to meet you there, the big man himself… Don Salvatore…”

Curtis smiled, “Where is Frankie?”

The man shook his head, “He’s tending to business in New Orleans, you just sit back and relax, we’ll be there in a bit, won’t take long…”

goood good good

just a bump to move it up on my subscription list so I remember to update this soon. Update to come shortly (ideally soon) the next post won't be a bump. That is the Fabus Guarantee. :)

On the drive down to Miami, Curtis was wondering what exactly the people would want to speak to him about. He honestly had no idea. He just sat back and hoped the ride wouldn’t take too long.

He had no idea that there were two top industrialists waiting to speak with him in Miami, the 55 year old Dieter Thaller and the 60 year old Hans Stahlecker. Both men were citizens of South Africa, although Thaller was a native of Germany and Stahlecker was a native of Mississippi. They were the two largest proponents on what was called the “New Global System” at the time, it would later be known as the New Mississippian World Order.

Thaller had made his billions after the Second World War, by designing and selling advanced jet fighters to nations such as South Africa, Argentina, Spain, and Portugal. Stahlecker had made his billions in the years leading up to the Second World War, and during the war itself, selling tens of billions in munitions and raw materials to the Axis powers. He had even been fined 100 million dollars and spent 3 months in jail in 1943 after being convicted of helping the German war effort.

Both of the men had spent at least a few years as members of the Council of Foreign Relations, and both were in the Mississippian secret society, “The Society of Enlightened Men”. They were in a five-star hotel in Miami, called the Jefferson Davis Hotel, waiting for Curtis to arrive.


Curtis had fallen asleep in the Cadillac as the men drove him to the hotel, where Don Salvatore, Hans Stahlecker, and Dieter Thaller were all waiting for him, to discuss the future of Mississippi and indeed the entire world. The Society of Enlightened Men, as a council, had decided that Curtis would become the leader of Mississippi, and they were going to tell him that he would someday be leading Mississippi, and then they were going to tell him what he owed them in return, total loyalty.

About six hours later, Curtis was awoken when a man gently tapped him on the shoulder, “Sir… Mr. Fabus… We’re here…”

Curtis groggily woke up, “Yeah... What? Already?”

The man nodded and then Curtis sighed, stretched his arms, and then sat up, stepping out of the car and walking into the hotel.


Curtis noticed there were half a dozen men in suits sitting around in the lobby, they had crew-cuts and were obviously guards for whoever he was going to meet, somebody quite important, more important than a just a mafia boss. After all, he’d already counted twenty guards around the building, something important was going down, a really important conference, he had no idea what though. It was the meeting of the Committee of Three, and he was being invited to speak with the three, Hans Stahlecker, Dieter Thaller, Harold Fabus. Don Salvatore was there for related reasons, even though he wasn’t part of the Committee. At the time, Curtis had no idea that Harold was his father, as far as he knew, his father died a few years ago from black lung.


Curtis smiled a bit as he was led into a conference room of the hotel, somebody suddenly pressed a small button behind a painting and a large section of the floor moved back, revealing a staircase. Curtis was led down it, noticing the floor moved back to place after he and two guards had cleared it.


About ten minutes later, after passing through a long tunnel, he arrived at the entrance to a secret bunker, where the three were meeting.


He was called into their private conference room, he took a seat, the bunker itself was cold and damp, but not this room, the marble floors, the wondrous paintings, statues, this room was fit for a king.

He looked at the three men, sitting in the shadows, their faces and expressions concealed, “Who are you?” he asked.

One of the men, Dieter, spoke, “You will learn in time… You will learn… Tell me young Curtis, why did you come here today?”

Curtis nearly laughed, were they serious? “Because you called me here…”

Dieter chuckled a bit, “No, no, you came because you knew you were meant to come, you were drawn here… Don’t you think so?”

Curtis wasn’t sure how to respond, “I… Don’t know, sir… Who are you? I can’t see you in the shadows…”

Dieter smiled, “Ah… I suppose I will tell you who I am… I am Dieter Thaller, does the name ring a bell?”

Curtis was shocked, “Dieter Thaller? The Dieter Thaller? The legendary SS commander and the now industrial giant? Thaller Advanced Aeronautics Inc?”

Dieter nodded, “Yes, that is me… You also left out I was a US Senator and a key member of the Council on Foreign Relations…”

Curtis then looked at the next shadowy figure, “And you are, sir?”

Hans Stahlecker smiled and struck a match to light his cigar, Curtis saw his face when he struck the match, “Hans Stahlecker? The Hans Stahlecker, Stahlecker Munitions Company?”

Hans nodded his head, “Yes, the same… And you young Curtis, you know why you are here, do you have any ideas?”

Curtis shook his head, he was drawing a blank, he could only think to say one thing, “No idea, except obviously that you wish to speak with me, yes?”

Hans grinned, “Yes… Yes… You see Curtis, you are a very popular man, for a boy not even yet seventeen, let us say that we have plans for you, great plans, you are going to go places… Believe me Curtis.”

Curtis didn’t understand what this meant, “Go places? What do you mean? Why me? What is this about?”

The other figure, Harold Fabus, remaining in the shadows, spoke, but remained anonymous, “Listen Curtis, you have been chosen…”

He had no idea for what, “What do you mean? Chosen? You’re all speaking in riddles…”

Dieter shook his head, “No Mr. Fabus, you’ll understand soon… What if I told you that your party, the Mississippian National Front Party, was just a joke…”

Before he could continue, Curtis interrupted, going on the defensive, “What! No! We may only have a few thousand members, but we’re not a joke! How dare…”

Dieter took back the initiative in the conversation, “Mr. Fabus, don’t bullshit me, we both know it’s just a joke…” He grinned, “For now, but soon we’ll see a great change with it… You’ll see…”

Curtis smiled; he was willing to hear more.

Dieter then elaborated, “Curtis, what if we told you that one day, you’d be ruling over a major empire based out of Mississippi?”

Curtis was shocked, in disbelief, “What? Me? Are you sure you have the right man?”

Dieter stood up, walked over to Curtis, and patted him on the back, “Yes… We have the right man, trust me… Well, Curtis, what do you say?”

Curtis shook his head, “No… How… It would never work, the United States isn’t just going to evaporate overnight… But if it would work I guess.”

Hans grinned, “It will work, within a few months, you’ll see, there won’t be a USA anymore, the union will be dissolved.”

Curtis chuckled, “They tried that in 1861, it failed…”

Harold smiled, “No, Curtis, we’re doing it a different way, trust us, we’ll handle it all…”



Curtis was quite suspicious, “Okay… So when do I take over and what do I have to do? What about the Soviet Union?”

Hans smiled, “You sure have many questions, let me first say, we are the Soviet Union, we’re the communists, the fascists, the anarchists, the capitalists, we’re everything, we control it all, it’s all just different ways for us to reach out to the people we want to control, feeding them messages they willing accept because they think they came to believe what they believe through their own free will… There is no freedom, no freedom of thought, we put the various ideas into the various people, the end result will be the same, we will win.”

Curtis yawned a bit, still tired from the ride, “Yes… I see, but the rest of my question, if you would please, sir.”


Harold answered it, “Curtis, don’t worry, before ten years time has elapsed, you’ll be ruler of Mississippi, there are a few catches, the “what” that you have to do.”

Curtis frowned, there were always catches, “Okay… I figured as much, what are they?”

Dieter smiled, “First, we’re going to put you in power, you must do us all many favors, services, always realize we are backing you. Firstly, we want you, shortly after you rise to power, to create a Domestic Advisory Committee that will give you advice on domestic policy, officially it’s only domestic policy, but we’ll be the committee and we’ll periodically tell you which nations you need to invade…”

Curtis was perplexed, “What? Which nations I need to invade, why would we need to invade anybody?”


Hans grinned, “Ah, to build our New World Order, Curtis, why else?”

Curtis was shocked, “Are you all some sort of UN Conspiracy?”

The three all laughed in unison, Harold spoke, “No, the UN are just useful idiots, from time to time we have them do so-called peace keeping missions, rattle the sabre a bit, take the peoples attention off of the real news, whenever it leaks out, whenever we can't suppress it totally. But the UN as an organization will collapse when the US does, or maybe shortly thereafter, we shall see.”

Curtis smiled a bit, “Okay, I’d love to see the UN destroyed, but why do we need to invade people?”

Hans handed him a map, it said, “By 1995” highlighted was Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Libya, Egypt, and Western Sahara, he smiled as he spoke, “That is part of the plan, phase one… You’ll be making sure everything runs on schedule… By 1995 Mississippi will have one of the greatest armies in the world, and the experience your men will gain during the civil war…”

Curtis interjected, “Woah, woah, what civil war? Who do we need to fight if the US government and UN are gone…”

Dieter spoke, “In the early or mid 80s, the communists that will be taking over Mississippi, you’re going to lead a civil war against them.”

Curtis scoffed, “What? No! Don’t let them takeover to begin with.”

Harold shook his head, “I wish it were that easy, if the peasants have the bitter taste of communism still in their mouths, we can play on their fears of revived communism in order to take their rights and get them to put total faith in the government…” He smiled, “Your government…”

Curtis nodded his head, then he suddenly became aware he really had to go to the bathroom, and he wanted a smoke, this was all a lot to take in at once. He slowly stood up, “Can I go to the bathroom and get a smoke? Be back in twenty.”

The three men each nodded their heads, and smiled, acknowledging his request. Curtis immediately left the room and went to the nearest bathroom.

As soon as he was out of the room, the three started talking.


Dieter looked to Hans and then Harold, “Well… What do you two think?”

Hans smiled, “He’ll do, superbly…”

Harold smiled as well, “Yes, as we agreed, he is the one we have selected, he is the one we should stick with.”

Dieter agreed, “Okay…I suggest we speak more with him first, make sure he is compatible with our agenda… If he is, he shall carry our banner, publicly doing what we plan privately… And if he is successful his children, and then their children, will inherit the banner of the Mississippian Empire, we shall have our New Mississippian World Order…”

tag

Very good

Curtis walked back into the room and sat down in the chair opposite of Dieter Thaller. Hans and Harold were both still in the room.

Dieter then looked at Curtis and said, “Young Fabus, how would you like to have access to more power than you could imagine?”

Curtis smiled, “Yes, I think we’ve been over this though, eh? I like the idea of power.”

Dieter grinned, “Good, good, there is a way, young Fabus, for your to have more power than you could imagine, do you want to know about this?”

Curtis nodded his head, “Yes, tell me…”

Dieter wasn’t sure whether or not Curtis would go for the idea, “You must submit, willing, to our lord and he will make you powerful and strong. Do you believe in our lord, young Fabus?”

Curtis nodded his head, affirming, “Yes, I believe in the Lord, don’t you?”

Dieter knew that Curtis was thinking of God, the father of Christ, while he himself was talking of the dark lord Molech. He smiled at Curtis a bit, “Yes, we believe in our lord very much, as you will learn one day.”

Curtis was puzzled, “What do you mean? Why do you call Him our lord, He is the Lord, isn’t He? Are we talking of the same Lord?”

Hans answered the question, “Young Fabus, fear not, in time, you will learn all that you seek to know.”

Curtis was still unsure what to make of what they were saying but decided he’d continue to listen.

Dieter spoke again, “Young Fabus, you have many questions, I can tell, remember though, in time, all will be made clear to you, your purpose, you shall realize it all. Your party, the Mississippian National Front Party, as we have already mentioned, is little more than a joke at current times, but we will propel you into power if you agree to give us your loyalty.”

Curtis raised a brow, not sure if he could trust these men, but knowing this history was such that they were great white warriors and most certainly worth listening to, “Yes, go on, what do you mean? What would this entail?”

Dieter smiled, “Ah, young Fabus, worry not about the exact details, we will give them to you later, but there will be many things to tend to, countries to attack, as we have already spoken to you about… But ultimately, this will not end until ultimate power for you has been realized.”

Curtis was shocked, “But… Nobody can have ultimate power, the only all-powerful being is God, yes?”

Hans shook his head, “Young Fabus, as we have said, in time, you shall see.”

Harold then spoke, smiling, “Yes, you shall see.”

Curtis was still confused about the mob’s role in all of this, “And of the Salvatores? What is their function in this, what purpose do they serve?”

Dieter answered him, “They will run the guns, handle the politicians, either the corrupt fools will take bribes or bullets. The mob has always served as an extension of our policies…”

Curtis smiled a bit, “Yes, I see… So tell me, I can marry who I want yes?”

Dieter grinned, “Yes of course, you may wed Ms. Dorothea.”

Curtis’s jaw nearly dropped, “How did you know? How could you know?”

Dieter smiled and pointed to the painting of the all-seeing eye on the wall, “We know everything young Fabus, we know everything. We see all, we have eyes and ears in all locations.”

Hans whispered to Dieter, “Should we take him to the temple?”

Dieter whispered back, shaking his head, “No, not yet, he is not ready yet, later, but not now, in time.”

Curtis thought he heard them say temple, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Mr. Thaller? Is everything alright? Do I need to go somewhere?”

Dieter shook his head, “No, not yet, young Fabus, in time, all in due time. But for now, we must be going.”

Dieter pulled his cloak up about his face and walked out of the dimly lit room, Hans followed, and then Harold behind him. They exited out a giant door at the other end of the room, through the center of the wall design of the “all-seeing” eye.

Curtis returned to Mississippi, but he returned to a mess, already events were cascading out of control. The Committee of Three, the “Mississippian Illuminati” was locking heads in an internal power struggle with the European Illuminati. The Mississippian Illuminati wanted their puppets in the Com Bloc to expand and gain influence, but only falsely so. The European Illuminati wanted real gains and a spread of real Communism. Ultimately the Mississippian Illuminati would win out and end up having the European Illuminati largely massacred, but for now the game belonged to the Europeans.

In Mississippi, rumors were swirling that Soviet commandos were operating in rural areas, but the federal government dispelled all the rumors. The truth of the matter was that indeed Soviet commandos were operating in rural Mississippi, and several other states. And already in Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, South Dakota, Colorado and Wyoming there were confirmed reports coming in of secession movements, the six state governments having seceded and forming a coalition of Midwest states.

The New England states were in the process of trying to rally the government to crush the upstart movements. Both of the Carolinas had voted to leave the Union and formed the “Union of the Carolinas” Georgia and Florida were also allowed to join, forming, the “Atlantic Coast Alliance”.

Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana formed, the “Pacific Northwest Condeferation”.

Mexicans living in the border states immediately rose in open rebellion as Mexican regulars cross the borders to link up with them, with Mexico ultimately annexing a strip of land fifty miles wide the entire length of the border.


A day after Curtis returned to Mississippi, it was finally confirmed that Soviet and Cubans were operating in Mississippi. Already the guerilla war had started, a dozen or so Soviet soldiers on patrol in Biloxi had been ambushed and their bodies tied to traffic lights, before they were shot so full of holes their bodies started to fall apart.

In retribution for the attack, over a hundred random citizens were rounded up and machine-gunned in the city square. The Cuban commander was outraged at the Soviet’s heavy handedness, saying, “When we fought Batista, they did this too, and every firing squad that there is, for every one killed, ten more join their side. Everytime your soldiers fire on civilians, you push more men than you can imagine, into their camp.”

The Soviet commanders didn’t care what the Cuban said, one was keen on WW2 when he was replying, “Bah, your nation never fought Germany! We know how to handle these situations!”



As for Mississippi, Curtis knew things were bad the day he after he got back when he looked up and saw Mi-17s and the recently introduced Mi-24s, flying in the sky on patrol. He looked outside and saw Urals and UAZs moving by, it was an all out invasion, what the Spetsnaz had done was secure airports for the landing of nearly seventy-five thousand airborne soldiers from the USSR, twenty-five thousand from the other East Bloc powers, and about ten thousand Cubans.

The Mississippian governor fled the state, but it wasn’t really a state anymore, with the declaration by the Senate and the president that the “Union is hereby dissolved” they were all independent nations looking to their own interests.

New England and many other states east of the Mississippi river formed the “New USA” a moderate left leaning nominally free nation that was run by shadowy behind the scenes organizations, basically a similar version of the what the “Old USA” was. The New USA encompassed all of the New England states, Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Michigan, New York, Deleware, and Pennsylvania.

West Virginia and Virginia had formed, “United Virginia” and made a defense pact with the “Union of the Carolinas”.


Louisiana and Arkansas formed an alliance with what remained of Texas, what the Mexicans hadn’t taken, and their government was quickly assured security by South Africa and Argentina. Baton Rogue became the capital of the “Mississippi River Confederation” a right-leaning state that would resist Soviet expansion outside of the territories that they had already managed to grab up.


Mississippi was officially placed under the command of the “Peoples Revolutionary Council” which declared a “workers paradise” and an end to “capitalist and white oppression”. Their first act was to open up all the jails and let out every single non-white, although they’d quickly find this was a horrible mistake and they would end up having to re-arrest most of those they’d let out.


Curtis knew things were terribly wrong when he went to school the next day, not intending to attend any classes, just to see if Julia and his friends were there, and what they planned to do. The school sign no longer read, “Jefferson Davis High School” but rather, “Vladimir Lenin High School” and the Mississippian state flag had been replaced by the Soviet flag.

Curtis cautiously made his way into the school; the teachers had all been instructed that they were being watched by the secret police, which the soviets and Cubans had brought with them. The curriculum was basically a joke now.


One of the teachers was reading what a secret police officer had told her to, “The USA was started in 1776 when rich nobles convinced foolish proletariats to propel them into power by rebelling against other rich nobles. The Constitution, which was passed almost immediately afterwards in 1777, was an attempt to codify serfdom into law.” Apart from the horrible inaccuracies, it was just plain propaganda.


In another classroom, Curtis could hear the discussions on how “Thomas Jefferson’s black slave wrote the declaration of Independence”.

One of the soviet soldiers walking down the hall came up to him, saying, “Don’t you have somewhere to be son?”

Curtis wanted to kill the man right there, how dare he say “son” the man wasn’t his father, but he just politely smiled and said, “I was just going to the bathroom, thank you for liberating us from capitalist oppression!”

The soldier smiled and patted him on the back, “Move along then, comrade.”

Curtis smiled back and quickly moved along. He saw Julia Dorothea, Baldur Von Schacht, Wilhelm Ernst, Fritz Ernst, and Bertrand Navarre were in the library appearing as though they were studying quietly but in actuality they were talking about what to do.

Curtis walked in and the first thing he noticed, most of the books were gone, they had been declared, “Subversive and counter-revolutionary” and shipments of approved books were on their way from the Soviet Union.

He sat down at the table, Julia turned, smiling, so happy to see him, he smiled back at her. She whispered to him, “Curtis, are you okay? Where were you?”

He shook his head, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me, how are you? Oh, I was in Miami, I’ll explain later.” Of course he had no intention of telling anybody about the Illuminati or his talk with them, he knew she’d forget in a bit, there were other things on everybody’s mind.

They all decided to get out of there and go to Julia’s house, Curtis was trying to keep a low profile, he was well-known around the world for being the leader of the Mississippian National Front Party. He hadn’t actually founded the party, it was founded by older men, most of the members were adults, and it was odd that he wound up as the heir apparent of the party, the one they’d run on the 1975 presidential election (the election laws had been greatly reformed in the 60s, and so there was no age requirement). Curtis, just a few months shy of 16, had polled 25% of the vote, and they had planned to run again in 1980, but the collapse of the union was an obvious obstacle to the their plans.

In 1980, in a basically show election, Curtis would end up getting 68% of the vote, about 80% of the white vote and 12% of the black vote, although the communist response would wind up being, “Elections are irrelevant” and then rather than just “disappearing” Curtis, since he was too popular, they just deployed him to whatever distant foreign campaigns were going on.

Whatever was going to happen though, they currently had no idea, Julia and Curtis quickly but inconspicuously made their way to his truck, while the others got to their cars.

About forty minutes later, they all arrived at Julia’s house out in the rural areas of the county. They had narrowly avoided being stopped at a checkpoint that was being setup as they passed the city limits

At her house, Curtis immediately turned on his ham radio in his truck, he learned that SAC Norad had been wiped out in a surprise Soviet nuclear strike, all the early warning sites in Canada watching the poles had either been taken by Spetsnaz or hit in aerial attacks.

NATO was largely sitting it out, nobody wanted to get into a war to save the United States, nobody really cared to send their sons to die for America. The American government had largely collapsed in a matter of hours, unwilling to use tactical nuclear weapons on their own soil and unwilling to use strategic nuclear weapons and thus escalate the situation further. The soviets had only used a few precision strikes, nothing major and nothing against civilian targets, totally contrary to what the US had been expecting in all their plans for dealing with a Soviet first strike.

The chaos and confusion, combined with what the illuminati had crafted behind the scenes, assured a total collapse of all major government functions within a matter of hours after the precision soviet strikes.


Navarre smashed his hand against a nearby table, as Curtis told him what he just learned over the radio, “Damnit! They sold us out! Sold us out! What do we do now?”

Curtis shrugged, “Meh, I don’t know, what can we do, fight them?”

Navarre smiled, “Yes, we should do that, yes we should, but with what, do we have enough weapons?”

Curtis nodded his head, smiling, “Yes, and we’ll have help too, South African commandos will be here in a few weeks, you’ll see, they won’t abandon us, I’d expect the Argentines to send some special forces as well… And for weapons, I’ve stashed a few here and there.”

Curtis then turned to Julia, “Where are your parents right now?”

She had no idea, they typically would leave for months on end, with the result being she had to take care of herself, she was used to their not being around, “I guess they might be in Central Europe, either in Yugoslavia or West Germany…”

Curtis nodded his head, “Good, tell them to stay there, Mississippi is about to get a lot bloodier...”

......Am I right in guessing that your last name is Fabus?

In Jackson, the Cuban general, Juan Jose Ramirez, issued his orders to the soldiers under his command by passing them along via his second in command.

The two men were standing in Ramirez’s office, when he said, “Tell your men, go to every sporting good store, every department store, every gun store, every pawn shop, and get all the forms numbered 4473, they have to keep them by law for several months, this will tell us who has guns. And then get the ledger books, they have to keep records on all gun sales made in the entire history of their store, this will tell us who has bought a gun in the last ten or so years since the record keeping was made mandatory.”

The major nodded his head and turned and left the office to relay the orders to the necessary field commanders.

One of the stores in Philadelphia, in Neshoba County, had an ungodly number of entries in the ledger (84 to be exact) in the last year, traced back to a one Mary Fabus (Curtis’s older sister who was almost 19 at this point in time). They decided to send an entire squad of soldiers to the address listed on the forms and find out what was going on.

Curtis had already buried all of his illegally obtained Chinese machine guns, and foreign manufactured sub-machine guns. He also had a few dozen M-14 and M-1 Garand rifles, stolen from National Guard Armories in the confusion of the last few weeks before the USA collapsed, which he had been careful to bury in 55 gallon oil drums, packing them in grease before tightly sealing the lids and burying them in a clearing in a swamp near his house. Inside each of the twenty buried drums, were about 4-5 different long-guns, a half dozen or so pistols, a few thousand rounds of ammunition, and assorted other supplies. One drum even contained two RPG-7 launchers and 40 rockets.

It would take the better part of the next day for Curtis and his band of followers to dig out enough supplies to start their war, but when they did, they were quick to spring into action. Curtis was grateful for all the years he’d spent listening to that nice man who was always hanging around his mother, he’d often show Curtis various drills and combat tactics, hand-to-hand, mounting ambushes. Curtis had never even suspected the man was his biological father, Harold Fabus. But now, there was no time to wonder about anything except resistance to communist tyranny.


While Curtis and his friends were out in the swamps digging up their hidden off the records weapons, a squad of Soviets and Cubans went to Curtis’s house to confiscate his guns that the forms showed were at the residence.

The Cubans leered at Mary as she answered the door, they hadn’t raped any white women in a while and wondered if they should have their way with her, but they decided against it, a Soviet officer was with them and they didn’t want to appear to lack discipline in front of him, after all, not all Russian officers were tolerant of the lax Cuban discipline. The Cuban army was an army of banditos, guerillas, and assorted peasant trash, and it showed.

Mary smiled politely as opened the door, saying, “Yes, what is it…” she looked at the Soviet officer’s insignia, “Captain…” she finished, still smiling.

He frowned a bit, “I’m sorry to bother you ma’am, but we have to come in your house and confiscate weapons…” he was quick to add, “To prevent guerillas from stealing them, not that you would support terrorists and bushwhackers, but they might steal them, you know? We have to take them, for the good of the state, please ma’am, will you turn them over, we don’t want trouble…”

He was being very polite about it, and not threatening, he hadn’t gone through the academy to wind up taking guns from country girls in Mississippi; he didn’t want to be here hassling a woman about her guns, he wanted to be fighting soldiers, preferably in Europe.

The officer was handsome and polite enough, he smiled as he said, “Ma’am, will you cooperate then?”

She sighed, knowing there was no real alternative, Curtis wasn’t home, and he’d have to be there, at least with a few friends, armed and ready, to do anything about this. Besides, she knew Curtis enough to know he had real guns, military guns, cached safely somewhere away from the house. Mary just nodded her head and meekly said, “Yes, sir…”

The officer motioned for his men to proceed, they took all the guns out of the house, as many as they could fit in their arms, making multiple trips back and forth to the UAZ or URAL, whichever vehicle wasn’t crowded with men around it at the time.

There were four guns Mary just didn’t want taken, one was a Colt Model Army, carried by Winston Fabus, a Confederate officer in the civil war, the second gun was a model 1911-A1 45 caliber pistol, carried by an great uncle of theirs in the Spanish Civil War fighting on the side of Franco, another gun was a rifle, a mauser rifle, used by a Fabus who had volunteered to fight in the Anglo-Boer war, on the side of the Boers. The last weapon was a 357 revolver, carried by a Fabus who had gone to England to enlist in 1914 when war broke out. Each weapon had a great history behind it.

She frowned as she saw a Cuban carrying the four guns, she turned to the Soviet officer, her eyes pleading, “Please sir, surely you don’t need to take such old guns, they probably don’t even fire…”

He sighed a bit, “I suppose if we take all the ammunition, yes, then we don’t need to take all the guns, is that fair enough?”

She eagerly nodded her head, “Yes, very fair.. Very kind of you.”

The captain motioned for the Cuban to set the four guns in question down on a chair, he promptly did so, and then he left to go back to the URAL.

He was quick to add, “Ah, yes, and perhaps you’d give me honor of being more kind to you, and letting me take you out to dinner?”

She thought he was handsome and seemed nice enough, but he was a Soviet officer, a communist, she didn’t know what to do. His English wasn’t that great though and Curtis would have a fit for a dozen or more reasons if he found out. But Curtis wasn’t here, besides, why shouldn’t she get to socialize with men, Curtis was overprotective of her, always telling her to stay home, keep a gun on her person when she left, and keep away from various cities.

Curtis would certainly have a fit when he found out, and he'd have an even bigger fit in about a year when Mary told him that he was going to be getting a brother-in-law who was a communist officer in the occupation forces. But eventually Curtis would accept his sister knew what was best for herself, and while he would always be there to protect her and help her if she needed, he had to let her live her own life on her own.

She nodded her head again, smiling at him, “Yes, that’d be fine…”

He smiled back, “Very good, what time is good for you? Seven?”

Mary quickly answered, “Yes, that will work fine.”

The radio in the UAZ started going off, a soldier called to the officer, “We have problems, rebels or something, south of here. They’ve shoot up one convoy already!”

The captain turned back to Mary, saying, “You are Mary Fabus, yes? You are the one who had your name on the forms? Right?”

She nodded her head, “Yes, but I don’t know your name…”

He smiled as he said, “Ah, yes, Konstantin Kerensky, no relation to Alexander Kerensky, Westerners always ask, so I said it first.”

She looked around him, seeing his soldiers getting ready to move out. Mary pointed in the direction of the vehicles, “Captain, your soldiers, they appear to be readying to move out, do you have to be going somewhere?”

He suddenly snapped back into reality, aware he had to get moving, he nodded his head and ran off, saying, “I see you later, yes?”

She nodded her head and shouted to him, “Yes, of course.”



Meanwhile, at the convoy…

Baldur smiled as the RPG sailed forward towards the nearest BMP, he started shouting, “God be praised! God be praised!”

Bertrand fired another RPG at the next, and the only other, BMP.

Within seconds, both BMPs were smoldering wrecks, with thick clouds of smoke pouring forth from the vehicles.

Baldur dropped his RPG and picked up a Type 56, rushing forward down the hill as his friends covered him. He was screaming the entire time, “God is great! God is great!” as he fired bursts into any Soviet soldiers who had survived the RPG attacks and were trying to disembark out the back of the smoking BMPs.

Bertrand and Wilhelm quickly joined him, going over the URAL and UAZ with a few bursts each, to make sure anybody inside was dead. But they had missed one man, the passenger in the front of the URAL, he kicked open the door and rolled out, he’d been hit once in the shoulder blade and once in the upper leg and was visibly in considerable pain.

Curtis was by now, already down and by the truck with his rifle at the ready.

Baldur moved over to the wounded man, who was now trying to crawl away into a nearby ditch. Schacht was quick to raise his rifle, which prompted Curtis to shout, “Baldur! No! he’s not armed!”

Baldur sighed and let his rifle go limp in his arms, resting lightly against his chest, he slung it over one shoulder and rapidly moved to the man’s side.

He put both hands on the man, under the armpits, and dragged him until he was able to rest him up against the side of the URAL.

He shouted to Wilhelm, “Get the camera going…”

Curtis was about forty meters down the road, checking out the wreck of the first BMP, he didn’t see what was going on as Wilhelm started a small recording and aimed it at the man and the truck.

Baldur turned to the camera and raised up his rifle saying, “Soviet atheists and Slavic trash, this is Mississippi, this is our land, you have no right to be here, leave now and leave at once. Leave and you shall live, leave not and you shall die…”

He turned back to the man, lowered the rifle and shouted, “Gloria Patri!” before he unloaded at least twenty rounds into the man, riddling him up and down with bullets. The man’s body jumped and contorted, coming to rest on its side, next to the front tire of the truck.

Curtis immediately turned and came rushing over, screaming, “Goddamnit! Why did you do that?”

Baldur frowned, sighing, “Curtis, he was the enemy, besides it’ll get our point across when we give them that tape, nobody messes with Mississippi…”

Curtis and Bertrand would have been content to argue with Baldur but they could hear soviet vehicles approaching, a few miles away, it was time to get out of the area.

The small band of guerillas quickly faded into the woods, each going home a separate way, making sure to walk on rocks and in water whenever possible, avoiding mud and anything that would leave an obvious trail to follow.

Bertrand and Curtis were the only two who went home together, since Bertrand’s house was in an area virtually without patrols, and Curtis didn’t want to risk passing near soviet patrols around his area until dark. He’d hide at Bertrand’s for a while until things calmed down.

On the way through the woods, the two boys got to talking. Curtis was visibly upset and sounded depressed, Bertrand was shocked, he’d never seen his friend so upset, he had to know what was wrong, he tapped him on the shoulder, asking, “Curtis, what is wrong with you today? Things are going great?”

Curtis sighed, “It’s Julia, Bertrand, do you know what I mean?”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t, why, aren’t you two getting along? What happened?”

Curtis shook his head back, “No, not that, we’re getting along great, but I… I mean, I can’t stand it, you know, I just feel so awful compared to her. Do you understand what I mean? I mean… Hell…” he sighed, frowning, looking down at the ground before continuing, “God only knows how many women I fucked, you know what I mean? I don’t even remember, and I’m not even quite 17 yet, it’s sick, I wish I could go back and just not do any of it. Julia was a virgin before I met her, and that meant something to me,, I think it meant something to her too, obviously… She was pure when she gave herself to me, but I couldn’t offer her the same thing back, and she knew it, it didn’t seem to bother her though…”

Bertrand knew this was serious, he’d never seen Curtis so depressed, or talking like this before, he had to do his best to cheer his friend up, he gave him a light pat on the back as the two stepped over a log in the woods, “Don’t worry Curtis, she loves you, that’s all that matters, right? I mean so who cares what you did when you were 15, you were a dumb kid then, hell we all were…”

He was quick to add, in a very mocking voice, “Except holier than thou Baldur Von Schacht, he’s an angel…”

Navarre returned to a normal tone, “But anyway, think about it like this, overall, in the end, does it really matter where you were or where you’re going? I mean do you know where you want to go in life?”

Curtis nodded his head, “Yes, I do, I truly do.”

Bertrand smiled, “Good, then just don’t look back at the road you’re coming from, keep your eyes focused on the road ahead, do you know… I mean, just forget about the dumb shit you’ve done, that’s all I can tell you, just forget about it.”

Curtis nodded his head again, “Hmmm. Bertrand, could I ask you a question, we’ve never really talked about this… You’ve… Well… You know, right?”

Bertrand nodded his head, “Yeah, once, why?”

Curtis shook his head, “Just wondering, just curious. I’d heard about that, but you never told me, I wondered if it was… Well I mean we tell each everything, don’t we?”

Bertrand chuckled, “Ah come on, we’re still best friends, you know that… I just didn’t want to tell anybody. A gentleman never tells, you know?”

Curtis laughed back, “Gentleman? Don’t ask me! I’m about as lewd as they come…”

Bertrand shook his head, smacking his friend lightly on the arm, “Come on, don’t beat yourself up like that… I’m here to do that for you, and you’re not lewd, you just have a different approach to life I guess, that’s all I can say about it. I mean it’s not for me to judge you, nor would I want to. You’re my friend, Curtis, I mean, I value you as a friend too much to condemn you, even though my religion tells me I probably should, but then again, it’s only for God to decide, you know?”

Curtis nodded his head as he stuffed some chewing tobacco into his mouth, “Yeah, I know what you mean, thank you for your honesty, Bertrand. You truly are my best friend, even though you’re a Papist.”

Bertrand frowned, “I don’t like that word, we’re called Roman Catholics, and there are hundreds of millions of us.”

Curtis smiled, “That’s only until they all realize the true religion is Southern Baptist.”

Bertrand sighed, not wanting to comment on that. But he had to say something else, “Curtis, you know, I really admired you for what you did for your family, I mean pulling those sixty hour weeks in the mines and doing good in school, and helping out around the house… I don’t know how you did it. But I mean, your work ethic, all that time in the mines, those sacrifices you made, I admire you for that Curtis, I don’t know if I could do that in the same situation. I mean I hate the idea of being in a mine…”

Curtis, for a change, patted him on the back, saying, “Don’t worry Bertrand, I’m sure you’d do the right thing, I’m sure of it. You’re a great guy, you’ll probably end up getting yourself some nice French Catholic wife and having plenty of kids…”

Bertrand grinned, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Bertrand was plagued by one thing though, “Curtis, do you think we’ll win?”

Curtis immediately knew what the answer was, “Do you sincerely believe God is on our side?”

Bertrand nodded his head without hesitation.

Curtis smiled as he proudly and sincerely said, “Then we’ve already won. It’s just a matter of pushing them out of our land, the decision of the final battle is already written in stone, our victory is inevitable, it’s just a matter of time.”

A few more things bothered Bertrand, or provoked his curiosity. He just had to ask, “Curtis, tell me, your first time… I mean, what was it…”

Curtis shook his head, “In the back of a 75 Eldorado, it was awkward, but just at first, it went well overall… As for the car, it was loaned to me for the weekend by that secretive man who is always around my mother, the Special Forces guy, he is a great guy but I don’t even know his name. He just has me call him Ranger since he was in the Rangers before getting into the Green Berets. He was also in the Rhodesian SAS. He taught me everything I know about warfare and combat. He’s oh so nice to my mother also, they act like they’re in love, it’s odd… If that was the case, they’d be married, right?”

Bertrand had no idea, but he had seen the man a few times, he was very secretive, “Do you… You don’t think he’s in the Illuminati, do you?”

Curtis nearly laughed, “Of course not! Heck, is there even an Illuminati, we may never know? But since you’re my friend, I’ll tell you, but I know you’ll never tell anybody, right, that’s just a given between us, yes?”

Curtis didn’t have to wait for Bertrand to say, “Yes, yes it is.” Since he knew it was and he knew Bertrand knew. So Curtis just continued as Bertrand started to reply, Curtis said, “There is indeed an illuminati and they are working to help propel me into power, I’ll explain it all in greater detail after we get to your place, I think we ought to stop talking and spread out now, we’re getting close, keep your eyes out for an ambush, okay?”

Bertrand nodded his head and stealthily moved off, getting ready to look down the hill overlooking his mansion and see what he could determine about the situation there.

Bertrand looked down at the 15,000 square foot house, it was calm, but not too calm, his dog was running about in the yard, chasing his cat, the other animals were also acting normal. He whistled to Curtis and then the two of them proceeded to enter the mansion through the garage. They were careful to remove their clothing and immediately put it in the wash to get the mud and powder residue off. Then each of the boys stashed his weapons inside a vent in the house.

Once they sat down and got situated in the smoking lounge, Bertrand placed a cigar in Curtis’s mouth (after he cut it of course) and then he struck a match and lit it for him. Bertrand always lit Curtis’s cigar’s for him, he was sort of Curtis’s righthand man, and that often entailed grunt work, but Bertrand was happy to have the honor of working for the leader of the MNFP.

Curtis exhaled right into Bertrand’s face, laughing a bit, “Enjoying the clean air around here?”

Bertrand laughed back as he lit up his own cigar and exhaled right back into Curtis’s face, saying only, “Yeah… Yup.”

Curtis then suddenly asked, “Hey, didn’t you tell me just a few weeks ago you never had gotten any, but then just a while ago you said did… What happened?”

Bertrand grinned, “Ah, well while you were in Miami… Well.” He then grinned all the wider before continuing, “Well, let’s just say I met a nice Cajun girl, you know… A French gal…”

Curtis smiled as his friend spoke, saying, “Great job Bertrand, how was she?”

Navarre smiled back before replying, “Great… Wonderful… but really, I won’t go into details, gentlemen don’t do that.”

Curtis was quick to reply, “Ah yes, but who says either of us are gentlemen?”

Bertrand nearly laughed, “Oh Curtis, surely you don’t think that, huh?” he said.

Curtis laughed back, “I guess we are, in some regards… You know?”

Bertrand shrugged, “Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. Say, what do you want to do now? What do you think Baldur, Wilhelm, and Fritz are up to?”

Curtis shrugged back, “Meh, Baldur is probably studying…Wilhelm is probably drunk and chasing skirts… Fritz is probably counting money and plotting out investments.”

Bertrand yawned and shook his head, “Let’s just get some sleep then, what do you say?”

Curtis shook his head, replying, “Nah, let’s kill off a few bottles of brandy first, what do you say?”

Navarre smiled and walked over to his father’s liquor cabinet, opening it up and taking out two bottles. He walked back over and sat down next to Curtis, handing him one of the bottles.

About an hour later, Bertrand fell forward out of his chair, and then started to laugh as he let the empty bottle roll aside. He turned to Curtis and said, “Hey, do you think we ought to turn in yet?”

Curtis, who was rather drunk already, had a few minutes ago lapsed into a state of unconsciousness and was thus unable to reply.

Bertrand shrugged and then fell asleep a few minutes later, face down on the floor, with Curtis reclined in a chair nearby.

In the morning, Curtis woke up on the floor, face down, he’d fallen out of the chair. The first thing he noticed besides his massive headache was that his pants were wet. He’d pissed himself.

He let out a moan of pain as the light coming in from the now open blinds was hurting his eyes.

Bertrand struggled to stand up to get out of the pile of vomit he was in.

He looked over to Curtis and shook his head while saying, “I think we drank too much, don’t you?”

Curtis was rubbing his temples as he walked towards the door that led into the bathroom. He only gave a one-word answer; “Yes…” before he closed the bathroom door, stripped down, and started to shower.

About ten minutes later, Bertrand heard a loud thump; he pushed the door open and walked into the bathroom. He found Curtis had collapsed in the shower. His first reaction was one of shock, as he rushed over to his friend’s side, lifting him up and pulling him out of the shower.

Curtis shook his head as Bertrand lifted him up and carried him into a nearby bedroom, insisting, “I’m fine… I don’t need help… I’m not hung over, I can hold my liquor well…”

Bertrand sighed as he heaved Curtis into the bed and covered him up, turning off the lights and leaving the room.

Bertrand didn’t want to argue with his friend, Curtis couldn’t hold much liquor, at least yet, and there was no point arguing with him anyway. He needed more sleep, and in a bed, not a chair.

Navarre walked back to the bathroom and retrieved Curtis’s cloths, taking them to the laundry room and tossing them down on the floor, the maid would tend to them when she arrived in an hour or so.

Bertrand himself didn’t feel too well, he had already thrown up once at some point during the night, but he seemed to still feel he might throw up again. He shook off the feeling and went to shower.



Meanwhile, at the Schacht residence…

Baldur woke up in his room, with a black eye and several bruises. His mother had beaten him when he resisted her sexual advances. He hated her; he wanted to kill her, preferably with his own bare hands in a horribly graphic fashion. She’d had her way with him before, but not this time.

He felt strong enough and old enough, he had found the confidence to resist her. But he couldn’t strike her back when she hit him, or else she’d tell his father, and it would cause problems for the family, and he didn’t want that. He loved his brother and his father, and didn’t want them to be upset, so he just took the abuse and kept quiet about it.

As he was getting dressed, there was a pounding on his door, it was her, shouting, “Get your worthless ass into the kitchen and get me my tea!”

Baldur finished getting dressed, set his medical books aside, and then opened the door, trying to get right by her and downstairs, but she wouldn’t allow that. She struck him across the face with a backhand and literally spat in his face as she complained, “What are you doing in there up so late at night, you sick pervert, you’re probably touching yourself…”

Baldur shook his head, insulted by that notion, “No mother, not at all… I was studying…”

She slapped him again, across the face, “Don’t you sass me, you’re a sick pervert… And on top of it, you’re a rotten son…”

Baldur sighed and nodded his head, mumbling “Yes mother, if you say so, mother.” Something that had almost become second nature to him by now, instinct, an automatic response.

She slapped him again, shouting, “Good, then we agree… Get your worthless ass into the kitchen and get me my tea… And it better not be cold!”

Baldur sighed and walked off into the kitchen, crying on the inside, but keeping a look of quite, reserved dignity, on the outside.

He made her the tea, perfect in everyway, just the right temperature. He took it up to her, handing it to her and saying, “Here you are, mother, I hope you like it…”

She took one sip of it before she threw it into his face, shouting, “It’s too hot!”

It was a bit hot, just as she liked it and just as she ordered it. The fact that she’d thrown it into his face obviously didn’t do anything to improve his opinions of her.

He nodded his head as he gritted his teeth, “I’ll go get you some more than, mother…” he managed to say through the pain.

She slapped him again, shouting once more, “Good, see you make it right this time…”

Baldur nodded his head and walked off downstairs, but before she could follow and stop him, he took off and ran outside. He raced around the corner and jumped into the Cadillac he had just been given a while ago by Don Salvatore, for his role in the Federal Reserve operation. He kept it around the corner, in the woods, off the road, so nobody would see it. His mother would never have approved of his having a car.

Within forty minutes, he was at Bertrand’s house; he’d stopped crying within the last five minutes of the drive because he didn’t want his friends to seem him for the wreck that he felt like.

He walked up and knocked on the door, which Bertrand promptly opened, saying, “Ah Baldur, come on in…”

Baldur nodded his head, smiling as he said just one word, “Thanks…” before he continued with, “Do you have anything to drink?”

Bertrand was surprised, he’d hardly ever seen Baldur drink, and never in the morning. But he really didn’t care to question his friend; he just led him inside, shutting the door behind him, and then escorted him to his father’s private bar.

He took out a shot glass and started to fill it with vodka, Baldur just grabbed the bottle out of his hand and started to slug it down. After he’d drunken the equivalent of about six shots in just a few gulps, Bertrand swiped the bottle out of his hands and frowned before saying, “Damnit, don’t kill yourself there!”

Baldur frowned and let him take the bottle back, offering no resistance, but only saying, “Hey, I can take care of myself…”

Bertrand sighed as his friend started to stagger and struggle just to stand up, the liquor was hitting him hard since he wasn’t used to it and drank way too much way too quickly.

Bertrand frowned as he shouldered Baldur up and basically carried him to a nearby guest room, helping him into bed and tucking him in, just as he had recently tucked Curtis in, before he left the room sighing.

Bertrand looked around, the clock said 9:26 am, but it was always a bit slow, it was probably 10:00 am. There was nothing much going on, they hadn’t planned on making any attacks today, or tomorrow, indeed their cell was lying low. Neshoba County was lying low, it seemed the neighboring counties were taking their turns fighting the communists for the next few days. That was how they worked it, so no cell would ever be tired or worn out, or worse, perhaps bled white from continued combat.

Bertrand sat back in a chair, propped his legs up on a nearby table, and then fell fast asleep, he was tired from all the days activities, and still needed to sleep off the hangover he was suffering from.

At about 2 pm, Curtis had woken up, feeling much better, Baldur had just woken up at about 1:54 pm, and he felt somewhat better. Had it not been for all the water Baldur had drank on his way to Bertrand’s, he probably would have been suffering a major hangover.

Curtis walked into the smoking lounge Bertrand was sleeping in and clapped his hands, playfully shouting, “Hey soldier, on your feet!”

Bertrand mumbled something, but he was still largely incoherent since he was half-asleep.

Curtis sighed before turning and walking out of the room; he decided to just let him sleep in peace.

Curtis walked over to Baldur and patted him on the back, asking, “So, Baldur, how are you?”

He forced a smiled before replying with just a simple, “Great…” before asking, “Oh, how are you, Curtis?”

Curtis shrugged his shoulders slightly as he glanced over at the clock, quick to reply, “Oh, I’m good too, been better though, just a light headache. Say, shouldn’t you be at home, do your parents know you’re here?”

Baldur shook his head, “No, my father is in South Africa and my mother is…” he didn’t want to even mention her, and so he didn’t.

Curtis pressed him, “Your mother is what?”

He shuddered at the mention of that word, “mother.” Before he answered Curtis with, “I don’t know, I think she’s probably asleep now, who knows.”

Curtis shrugged again, chuckling, “Yeah, who cares eh?”

Baldur nodded his head, asking, “Yeah, say, can we go kill some commies now? Would that be okay if we did that?”

Curtis grinned, saying only, “Sure…” but he was quick to continue with, “Let’s get ready.”

bump for more to read.

ooc- one last bump for now, so more can see. I'll update later if I have time, but 1866 and 1984 are top on the list now, I think 1984 will come first, then 1866, and eventually I'm going to start a 1920 Fabus RP, and then a 1960 Fabus RP. I think you all will like them. :)

OOC: My favorite running Fabus RP is the 1866 one.