Gurian
09-02-2005, 06:17
0700 HOURS
Gregory White sat in the airport terminal, reading a newspaper. He glanced at his watch. 7:00 A.M. he thought. Nate should be here soon. Gregory glanced around him. A woman dressed in a black suit hurried by, yelling at some guy named Johnathon about some business deal gone awry. Gregory yawned, and went back to his newspaper.
* * *
Nate glanced out the window of the airplane, surveying the Gurian International Airport. After so many hours of travelling, it was over! Ugh, he found himself thinking as he noticed an obese man snoozing on his shoulder. Nate yanked his arm away and watched the man wake up.
"Woah, what...what happened!?" he asked.
"Oh, we're just arriving," Nate said, shrugging.
"Oh, right, right...thanks..."
Finally, Nate thought, He's leaving me alone! Nate anxiously glanced at his duffel bag under his feet. I hope nothing goes wrong.
0730 HOURS
Nate strolled off the plane, keeping a firm grip on the duffel bag. He shook his legs a little -- cramped seats and long flights were not a good mix. Nate searched the area, finding his contact reading a newspaper. Taking care to be silent, Nate walked toward him. When he was right behind Gregory's head, Nate shouted, "BOO!"
"ARGH!" Gregory shouted, turning around while grabbing for his gun. He realized that he didn't have his gun just as he faced Nate.
"God, man, don't do that!" Gregory shouted. Nate smirked.
"It's good to see you too," he said. "Alright, I've got it." Nate shook his duffel bag a little to show Gregory what he meant.
"Really?"
"Of course. Are you implying something?"
"No...no...I just didn't think -- well, it's not important. The important thing is that we have it now. We're home-free."
"Yeah. Just gotta deliver it and we'll be rich men," Nate said. He chucked a little.
"Nate, what the hell are you laughing at?"
"Nothin' really, just imagining you at my mansion, complaining about how you still can't get laid." Nate laughed again. Gregory glared at him.
"Go to hell."
"Ha! Right, right, let's get this over with. It's yours now -- take good care of it." Nate handed Gregory the duffel bag. He surveyed it for a few moments.
"Now...are you sure it's safe?"
"Oh no, it isn't!" Nate shouted, rolling his eyes. He lowered his voice and whispered to Gregory. "You dumbass, if it wasn't safe, I wouldn't be here, now would I?"
"True...alright, I'm ready. Give it to me." Nate sighed and handed the duffel bag to Gregory.
"Take care, Greg," Nate said as he began to walk away.
"Alright, I'll see you!" Gregory shouted as Nate walked away.
0745 HOURS
Officer Volte stood by the security checkpoint, frowning. Gurian was on a state of high alert nowadays, ever since the whole situation with Novaya Russia. He didn't object to the high alert; it was necessary. Volte simply hated standing around for hours on end with nothing to do but harass people and rummage bags. Every now and then he would get lip from some asshole who thought it was cool to mess with airport security. They certainly didn't make the situation better.
And number 75 for the day, Volte thought as a man walked up to the security checkpoint with a duffel bag. Lucky me, another person to search. Volte wearily lifted himself up and approached the checkpoint.
"Sir, please stop," Volte commanded, yawning.
"Me?" the man asked, clearly taken aback.
"Yeah, you. Lay that bag on the table. We've got a surprise search."
Crap! Gregory thought. Well...there's always the chance he won't find it. It doesn't look suspicious anyway... Gregory complied, and placed the duffel bag on the cheap table. It creaked under the bag's weight.
"Alright, search away!" Gregory sarcastically exclaimed.
"This'll take just a second."
Volte zipped open the bag. Not much here. Let's see...some clothes...some socks...
"Hey," Gregory jeered, "Found my nuke yet?"
...asshole, Volte thought. He continued searching. My God...what is this? Volte picked up the offending object and pulled it out the bag. It was a tube of lipstick! Gregory hadn't noticed yet, and he continued to smirk at Volte.
"You never told me you wore lipstick," Volte declared.
"That's...that's..." Gregory was in a frantic rush to beat through the brush of his mind and come up with something. Anything.
"...that's my girlfriend's!" he exclaimed, relieved to have come up with something. Gregory began to calm -- it wasn't going to be so bad. Volte pulled the cap off the lipstick tube.
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Volte was awestruck at what he saw. It was a vial of -- what had his training told him about it? -- yes! -- it was Koernia Type 6. Koernia Type 6: One of the most deadly diseases known to man. There was no known cure for it. Once one is infected by it, there is nothing that can be done except wait to die. Those infected have only about eight hours left. The worst part, though, is how infectious it is. Touch someone, and you have it. Touch something that touched someone, and you have it. Breath air close to someone and you have it. Needless to say, a Koernia Type 6 epidemic would be catastrophic.
Gregory's heart raced wildly. Sweat oozed from his pores. Gregory snatched the vial and took off madly. Volte rushed after him, a little faster. As Gregory was just passing the metal detectors, Volte grabbed his knees and tackled him. As Gregory fell, the vial slipped out of his hand. It soared. Both stared at the vial, awestruck. This moment could only be compared to what one must feel as he sees a bullet coming straight between his eyes. It is a moment of sheer terror and inability, a moment where nothing can be done and death is imminent.
The vial crashed to the ground, breaking. Gurian International Airport: Ground zero.
0800 HOURS
Dictator Anderson sat in his office, casually going over various documents, when an aide burst in.
"SIR, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!" the aide shouted, out of breath and breathing furiously.
"What is it?" he asked, used to overzealous aides. Dictator Anderson was used to new aides who would make mountains out of mole hills as they said.
"Sir, fifteen minutes ago, at Gurian International Airport, a vial containing Koernia Type 6 shattered."
"Koernia Type 6? That can't be! Recheck that!"
"We already have, sir. It is confirmed."
"Institute an immediate quarantine of the area! I don't want anyone in or out of that airport! In fact, establish the quarantine up to 5 blocks away. No one in or out. Cancel all flights."
"Yes sir. Anything else?"
"I want you to tell Dr. Kreque and his staff to begin work on developing a cure for this disease immediately. And tell Davis to get his bombers ready to go...in a worst-case scenario we may have to bomb the airport." Dictator Anderson sighed. The thought of bombing all of those innocent people was appalling to him.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, he thought. It was no use trying to justify it. No matter how Dictator Anderson thought about it, he became sick.
"Well," he said, "Aide, go out and inform them. MOVE!" The aide, panicked by the last yelling, quickly sprinted out of the office without a word.
Dictator Anderson began composing a letter to the international community.
Dear World Leaders,
This is Dictator Anderson from Gurian. A potential tragedy has befallen our nation. This is a true crisis situation. I was just notified that a vial of Koernia Type 6 has been broken at Gurian International Airport. For those of you unaware of this disease, it is deadly. It is highly contagious with a 0% survival rate. All who contract this disease die within eight hours.
I have begun by instituting a quarantine of the area comprising of the airport and a full five block radius around it as well. No one will be permitted to come in or out. Areas surrounding the quarantine will, of course, be evacuated. While the quarantine holds off the spread of the disease, I will be putting all of Gurian's doctors to work on devising a cure to this horrendous disease.
Unfortunately, I fear that we may not have enough time. If the quarantine breaks, a massive tragedy will befall this nation. Gurian City, the nation's capital and most populus city, will be infected. This infection may spread, and could ultimately spread to other cities as well. If all of Gurian is infected, may God have mercy on our souls.
There is one solution, one which I am reluctantly forced to consider. If I order bombers to carpet bomb the airport, this will bring an end to the infection there. Unfortunately, doing so will kill many innocent people. Current estimates place the amount of people in that airport between ten and twenty thousand. The idea of slaughtering so many innocent people sickens me, yet I cannot even fathom how this disease could ravage Gurian if it gets out.
To all nations of the world, I plead for assistance. We need more doctors to help us in our race against time to cure this disease. I do not want to carpet bomb these people or, even worse, end up with the quarantine breaking. Please assist us!
Signed,
Dictator Anderson
Benevolent Dictator of Gurian
God have mercy on our souls, he thought as he sent the message.
Gregory White sat in the airport terminal, reading a newspaper. He glanced at his watch. 7:00 A.M. he thought. Nate should be here soon. Gregory glanced around him. A woman dressed in a black suit hurried by, yelling at some guy named Johnathon about some business deal gone awry. Gregory yawned, and went back to his newspaper.
* * *
Nate glanced out the window of the airplane, surveying the Gurian International Airport. After so many hours of travelling, it was over! Ugh, he found himself thinking as he noticed an obese man snoozing on his shoulder. Nate yanked his arm away and watched the man wake up.
"Woah, what...what happened!?" he asked.
"Oh, we're just arriving," Nate said, shrugging.
"Oh, right, right...thanks..."
Finally, Nate thought, He's leaving me alone! Nate anxiously glanced at his duffel bag under his feet. I hope nothing goes wrong.
0730 HOURS
Nate strolled off the plane, keeping a firm grip on the duffel bag. He shook his legs a little -- cramped seats and long flights were not a good mix. Nate searched the area, finding his contact reading a newspaper. Taking care to be silent, Nate walked toward him. When he was right behind Gregory's head, Nate shouted, "BOO!"
"ARGH!" Gregory shouted, turning around while grabbing for his gun. He realized that he didn't have his gun just as he faced Nate.
"God, man, don't do that!" Gregory shouted. Nate smirked.
"It's good to see you too," he said. "Alright, I've got it." Nate shook his duffel bag a little to show Gregory what he meant.
"Really?"
"Of course. Are you implying something?"
"No...no...I just didn't think -- well, it's not important. The important thing is that we have it now. We're home-free."
"Yeah. Just gotta deliver it and we'll be rich men," Nate said. He chucked a little.
"Nate, what the hell are you laughing at?"
"Nothin' really, just imagining you at my mansion, complaining about how you still can't get laid." Nate laughed again. Gregory glared at him.
"Go to hell."
"Ha! Right, right, let's get this over with. It's yours now -- take good care of it." Nate handed Gregory the duffel bag. He surveyed it for a few moments.
"Now...are you sure it's safe?"
"Oh no, it isn't!" Nate shouted, rolling his eyes. He lowered his voice and whispered to Gregory. "You dumbass, if it wasn't safe, I wouldn't be here, now would I?"
"True...alright, I'm ready. Give it to me." Nate sighed and handed the duffel bag to Gregory.
"Take care, Greg," Nate said as he began to walk away.
"Alright, I'll see you!" Gregory shouted as Nate walked away.
0745 HOURS
Officer Volte stood by the security checkpoint, frowning. Gurian was on a state of high alert nowadays, ever since the whole situation with Novaya Russia. He didn't object to the high alert; it was necessary. Volte simply hated standing around for hours on end with nothing to do but harass people and rummage bags. Every now and then he would get lip from some asshole who thought it was cool to mess with airport security. They certainly didn't make the situation better.
And number 75 for the day, Volte thought as a man walked up to the security checkpoint with a duffel bag. Lucky me, another person to search. Volte wearily lifted himself up and approached the checkpoint.
"Sir, please stop," Volte commanded, yawning.
"Me?" the man asked, clearly taken aback.
"Yeah, you. Lay that bag on the table. We've got a surprise search."
Crap! Gregory thought. Well...there's always the chance he won't find it. It doesn't look suspicious anyway... Gregory complied, and placed the duffel bag on the cheap table. It creaked under the bag's weight.
"Alright, search away!" Gregory sarcastically exclaimed.
"This'll take just a second."
Volte zipped open the bag. Not much here. Let's see...some clothes...some socks...
"Hey," Gregory jeered, "Found my nuke yet?"
...asshole, Volte thought. He continued searching. My God...what is this? Volte picked up the offending object and pulled it out the bag. It was a tube of lipstick! Gregory hadn't noticed yet, and he continued to smirk at Volte.
"You never told me you wore lipstick," Volte declared.
"That's...that's..." Gregory was in a frantic rush to beat through the brush of his mind and come up with something. Anything.
"...that's my girlfriend's!" he exclaimed, relieved to have come up with something. Gregory began to calm -- it wasn't going to be so bad. Volte pulled the cap off the lipstick tube.
"WHAT THE HELL!?" Volte was awestruck at what he saw. It was a vial of -- what had his training told him about it? -- yes! -- it was Koernia Type 6. Koernia Type 6: One of the most deadly diseases known to man. There was no known cure for it. Once one is infected by it, there is nothing that can be done except wait to die. Those infected have only about eight hours left. The worst part, though, is how infectious it is. Touch someone, and you have it. Touch something that touched someone, and you have it. Breath air close to someone and you have it. Needless to say, a Koernia Type 6 epidemic would be catastrophic.
Gregory's heart raced wildly. Sweat oozed from his pores. Gregory snatched the vial and took off madly. Volte rushed after him, a little faster. As Gregory was just passing the metal detectors, Volte grabbed his knees and tackled him. As Gregory fell, the vial slipped out of his hand. It soared. Both stared at the vial, awestruck. This moment could only be compared to what one must feel as he sees a bullet coming straight between his eyes. It is a moment of sheer terror and inability, a moment where nothing can be done and death is imminent.
The vial crashed to the ground, breaking. Gurian International Airport: Ground zero.
0800 HOURS
Dictator Anderson sat in his office, casually going over various documents, when an aide burst in.
"SIR, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!" the aide shouted, out of breath and breathing furiously.
"What is it?" he asked, used to overzealous aides. Dictator Anderson was used to new aides who would make mountains out of mole hills as they said.
"Sir, fifteen minutes ago, at Gurian International Airport, a vial containing Koernia Type 6 shattered."
"Koernia Type 6? That can't be! Recheck that!"
"We already have, sir. It is confirmed."
"Institute an immediate quarantine of the area! I don't want anyone in or out of that airport! In fact, establish the quarantine up to 5 blocks away. No one in or out. Cancel all flights."
"Yes sir. Anything else?"
"I want you to tell Dr. Kreque and his staff to begin work on developing a cure for this disease immediately. And tell Davis to get his bombers ready to go...in a worst-case scenario we may have to bomb the airport." Dictator Anderson sighed. The thought of bombing all of those innocent people was appalling to him.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, he thought. It was no use trying to justify it. No matter how Dictator Anderson thought about it, he became sick.
"Well," he said, "Aide, go out and inform them. MOVE!" The aide, panicked by the last yelling, quickly sprinted out of the office without a word.
Dictator Anderson began composing a letter to the international community.
Dear World Leaders,
This is Dictator Anderson from Gurian. A potential tragedy has befallen our nation. This is a true crisis situation. I was just notified that a vial of Koernia Type 6 has been broken at Gurian International Airport. For those of you unaware of this disease, it is deadly. It is highly contagious with a 0% survival rate. All who contract this disease die within eight hours.
I have begun by instituting a quarantine of the area comprising of the airport and a full five block radius around it as well. No one will be permitted to come in or out. Areas surrounding the quarantine will, of course, be evacuated. While the quarantine holds off the spread of the disease, I will be putting all of Gurian's doctors to work on devising a cure to this horrendous disease.
Unfortunately, I fear that we may not have enough time. If the quarantine breaks, a massive tragedy will befall this nation. Gurian City, the nation's capital and most populus city, will be infected. This infection may spread, and could ultimately spread to other cities as well. If all of Gurian is infected, may God have mercy on our souls.
There is one solution, one which I am reluctantly forced to consider. If I order bombers to carpet bomb the airport, this will bring an end to the infection there. Unfortunately, doing so will kill many innocent people. Current estimates place the amount of people in that airport between ten and twenty thousand. The idea of slaughtering so many innocent people sickens me, yet I cannot even fathom how this disease could ravage Gurian if it gets out.
To all nations of the world, I plead for assistance. We need more doctors to help us in our race against time to cure this disease. I do not want to carpet bomb these people or, even worse, end up with the quarantine breaking. Please assist us!
Signed,
Dictator Anderson
Benevolent Dictator of Gurian
God have mercy on our souls, he thought as he sent the message.