NationStates Jolt Archive

9000 km Southeast of Omz222:

"Sir? I don't think we should be doing this. I mean... is this even legal?"

"No, not really, but I don't think anybody lives here, so it's ok."

"You know, everytime somebody says that, the natives always end up killing them, are you SURE there aren't any natives here?"

"I'm positive.... I think. In any case, even if there are natives, what are they going to do to us?"

"Err... sir, they're going to kill us and eat us, but not before allowing their entire tribe to sexually abuse us."

"You're always pessimistic like that you know. Now help me get this flag out."

And there they were. Two men in dull grey worksuits emblazoned with a skeletal crow, the logo of MP Holding Corporation fiddled with a large pickaxe and a gasoline powered drill, trying to stick a large flag on an alumnium pole into a cluster of hard rocks on a rainy and cold beach. Besides them was a rigid inflatable boat that was bobbing around in the waves, prevented from floating off by the fact that it was tied to the rock that the two men were trying to plant the flag in.

Finally, they got the flag in. The 1.5x1 meter piece of ripstop nylon fluttered in the wind. The logo it bore matched the one on the mens' worksuits. The two men got back into the boat. One of them started the engine. Off they went into the distance. Now MassPwnage had a new territory. A small island in Haven.

Now what the hell was MassPwnage doing in a small island. And off of Haven? Ask the CEO of MP Holding Corporation. Oh wait... that doesn't really exist. At least not officially. Somebody leaned long ago that most nations despise shell corporations designed to keep assets away from the authorities.

That somebody was Gregory Richard Surchester V. Surchester was a "mover", Pwnage for somebody that manipulated money in order to get rich. Sort of like a NationStates Warren Buffett without the fake-assed homeliness. Surchester had amassed an enormous forture by playing the stock exchanges in many nations, corporate raiding, cooking the books, tax evasion and of course, outright theft. At the comparatively young age of 40, he was worth more than 10 trillion dollars. And sitting on his Sarzonian built executive yacht in the North Pacific was the man himself, he was feeling quite good about himself. Of course, he rarely branched into material investments, being the purist that he was, but this little island was too good to pass up. The land would cost nothing to buy, just a little something to develop.

Surchester got up out of his chair, stood up and stretched. He was in his prime and intended on keeping it that way. That's why he was going hunting tommorow. His scout teams reported some decent game animals on the island. They weren't anywhere as near as dangerous as the game animals in MassPwnage, but at least they didn't occupy the space three rungs above humans in the food chain. That meant a good night's sleep, but first before retiring, business had to be done.

Surchester flicked through the yellow pages he had stored on his PDA, he needed development contractors fast. Anybody from MassPwnage was out of the question though. The Great Leader Li didn't appreciate him very much. Maybe it was because he had his own beliefs on how society should be run. They were definitely more... conservative than the Pwnage mainstream. Surchester certainly didn't believe in any of the hippie free love bullshit that everybody over there simply oozed. That didn't help his position with the government. His business practices, which were unethical by Pwnage standards, didn't help either. More than a dozen nations threatened to halt all trade with MP unless the government shut down MP Holding Corporation and threw Surchester in jail. Of course, Li didn't want to actually exercise his power as executive, but he did leave a rather stern warning. One of Surchester's mistresses was dismembered in his summer home in Pacitalia and her various pieces hanged from a ceiling fan. Surchester was not a stupid man, so he did as suggested and got out.

Now the contractors... Surchester flipped immediately to Executive Outcomes . They had a good solid reputation for providing excellent security. So he turned on his videophone and dialed their toll free number.....

ooc: Sorry, I meant to post the above as Two Foot Rock.
Argh! Now I see why Upper Xen just doesn't bother with changing his accounts.

New Empire

The call was routed through an encrypted node in a chain of relatively uninhabited islands off the coast of New Empire, then transferred onto a secure link to the EO Headquarters in Gewehrston, an imposing but spartan looking structure that belied the massive financial resources of the corporation.

Inside, a man picked up the ringing phone.

"Executive Outcomes, New Empire."

He spoke no words of introduction. People didn't call this line unless they knew what they were getting into.

Surchester stared at the blank vidphone screen. Bastards... not even a hot young receptionist he could drool over.

"Yes... you guys have quite a reputation. Anyway, let's cut to the chase, I want to hire a regiment of your mercenaries for security purposes. You're going to have to provide the materiel, seeing as how I have legal issues with my regular source of resupply. We can work out a deal, just name a time and place that's good for you and I'll send one of my representatives."

Alright... the deal with Executive Outcomes was coming along smoothly. Next up was Supplemental Income Opportunities. Tyrandisian. Weird motherfuckers, thought Surchester as wrote down their number. But they were weird in a good way. MassPwnage should be more like Tyrandis. But nooo... all those goddamn hippies sit around and smoke weed all day. Hmm... SIO required an ad. He'd draft that in the morning, first though, was EO.

TAG for later IC post.

OOC- Crap, shoulda kept that last post. Ah well. [TAG] For future Reply.

The nation of sterotops is apauled by this action and will be taking the apropiate action against the evil offenders

They would meet in the Oceanic States on the mix of natural and artificial islands that consituted Poseidon.

The EO field headquarters there was a modern looking structure, situated near a private airfield and port complex that floated at sea, but was anchored to a smaller islands. It was from here that EO transhipping and air sorties could be launched, but it was also here that most business was conducted.

Why? Because EO could control exactly who could go in and out of the facility, block out stray EM noise and prevent espianoge on their more covert contracts.

There was a single suited man on the airfield tarmac, a 'sales rep' who had a suit nice enough to show wealth but a face that suggested a former career in anything but a desk job. He checked his watch. The clients' aircraft should be arriving within a few minutes.

Right on time. Good.

A lithe looking woman in a business suit and sunglasses hopped off the plane. Behind her were two men, similarly bedecked, carrying two large suitcases.

The woman walked briskly up to the sales rep. Let the negotiations begin.

The 'sales rep' was a man named Mr. Langerd, not his actual name, which was buried under mounds of UCSNE military files from his fieldwork days. But he used it enough to be recognized by it.

He walked over to the woman and extended a large, weathered looking hand, clean but covered with the wear and scars of a more physical career from long ago.

"Henderson Langerd, Executive Outcomes. I understand you're looking for some troops? From what your situation appears to be, we cannot offer you as many as you may want. We are, after all, a corporation, and our stakeholder policy dictates that we deploy no more than 20,000 of our men at any given time. However, what I can promise you is top of the line men and equipment, and if you choose, some level of close-air support and intelligence assets that can assist you in your conflict."

"Lei Zhun Vo, Pwnage Holding Corporation." The woman shook back, her hand was small and delicate, but she had poise and a strange form of grace.

She listened, then continued.

"We have no issues with your personnel cap, we don't need that many soldiers, for now, two infantry regiments capable of marine and airmobile operations, familiarity with foreign equipment, able to operate over harsh terrain. You know the whole deal. A reconnaissance battalion would also be nice. You provide your own equipment, but that's a given. We're pretty flexible on the issue of rates, as long as it's not anything ridiculous. We can discuss details later, but that’s the gist of it.”

~*~*~*

"We can give you two of our standard brigades with airmobility and amphibious capability, we'll need you to provide some trucks and other logistical gear for moving conventionally. With the UCAVs and recon equipment and elements, that comes to around 200 million, for the logistics, life insurance, all that stuff. We'll charge a base rate of an extra million and a half per annum after the first year to cover damages, though we might need more if you want us to replace heavier equipment.

"I think you'll find our men are well trained in foreign weapons, MP gear is quite common with the upper-crust criminals like the triads. As for foreign stuff, depending on how widely it's sold, our men will be somewhat familiar with it, but they've assembled and disassembled so many of them the basics should allow them to master their systems once they arrive in theater."

Lei thought about it. The two brigades were well within MPHC's price range. It was a good deal. She opened the briefcase she had with her. It was loaded with million $NS Dollar bills. She pulled out two 100 bill stacks and handed them to the represenative.

"Nice doing business with you people."

~*~*~