New Brittonia
30-07-2007, 17:42
OOC- this is my new thread, covering something less of an… international basis, well… you’ll see. I wanted to start something different after I got lost about what happened on the “What’s so Civil about War, Anyways”. It’s not that it wasn’t successful, I saw that it had over 200 views for about 12 posts, and I might add, without bragging, that those were some good, solid posts. Honestly, I just didn’t know what to write next. It was funny though, what first started as a terrorist attack, partly inspired by the comings and goings in London and Edinburgh, if you can still remember those days, if you can pay enough attention to the news, turned into a complete character search for my national leaders. David Flower, the man who had a love for making gaudy shows of Brittonian power and the occasional stogie, made a show of his true colours when his nation gets attacked. Who does get killed in five days?
Maybe you’ll see me come back to that… maybe. Anywhere, here it is, and the raven will fly again.
Through the cold hard rain, Michael Mattingly could barely see the office when he arrived in the dead of night.
“Shit.”, he thought while walking nearer to the building, “I am so late.”
Michael rolled up his now partially wet trench coat sleeve with his left hand, the one that was not holding his umbrella, and peeked a glance down at his watch.
22:35, it said.
He walked up to the front steps of the building, pulled out the keys to his Volkswagen Passat, remotely locking the car’s doors. The piercing noise that the locking of the doors made broke the pattering of the rain, and the flashing of the car’s yellow and white lights added a half of a second of brightness to the dark city.
Michael pushed open the door to the office, giving him a tired feeling that was not caused by the weight of the door. Rather, it was the whole work environment that made Michael tired every day. Gone were the Walter Cronkite days of the nightly news where the news anchor gave people hard facts of the nation and world. Now, Perez Hilton is king… or queen, and more people are obsessed with Lindsey Lohan’s drinking habits and David Beckham coming to America.
“I’m a dinosaur”, he muttered under his breath.
The entrance to the office was full of dozens of people in grey cubicles typing on computers or talking on phones.
Young people.
He began to start quietly walking to the door to the set, before he was confronted by a short brown-haired man in his mid thirties with the smallest bit of a moustache.
“You’re late. What did you do, forget what time it was?” David Peterson said with what might be an insult to Michael’s age.
“I was caught in traffic, an accident on the R6.” Mike said hoping that David would have sympathy.
“Okay, get on set. Try to drive without killing anyone when you get home.” David was completely serious when he said that, however.
Mike gave no response and just walked into the door of the set. The room was full of people, cameramen, electricians, and best boys. With no one looking, Mike walked up to a small table in the corner and began to pour himself a cup of coffee into a small Styrofoam cup.
Black.
With no cream or sugar.
At all.
He took one sip of it and thought,
“God, this is too weak.”
He put a lid on his cup so it won’t spill on his suit, but right when he was about to leave, David suffered his second interruption of the day, this time on the other side of the spectrum.
“Hey”, said a cheery voice from his right side, “What makes you so late?” That last part was said with the tiniest bit of a giggle.
It was pretty obvious who this was, she was the one person in this entire building did not think he was too old. It was Fatima al-Ali. She was his co-host for about three years, right when Channel 8 became anti-seniors, anti-Mike Mattingly. She was the only one in this entire station that treated Mike like a person, he respected that. However, friends, they were not. Well, in his eyes they were not, Fatima probably did view him as her friend. Still, her eternal ability to find the silver linings of the clouds of life was Mike’s pet peeve. If they were to meet under different circumstances, they would probably be friends. It was not the mood that turned him off, it was the timing of when they met. It was the simple fact that if he did not meet her when the station became anti-elderly, they would have been friends. This was not the case, and he just had to live with it.
“Oh, accident on the R6.” he said with a sense of tire in his voice.
“Oh my gosh, you were in that?! You’re all right?” Fatima asked as though she was not looking at him right now.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mike said.
“Well, that’s good… oh no!”
“What?”
“We need to get on the set.”
She began to walk to the set, a few chairs and a desk in front of a green screen. Mike followed her and sat down in the chair on the left. Mike then shuffled some papers and then asked,
“What do we have today?”
Fatima then replied,
“Well, you have that accident, a shooting, and there is a shortage of food at the food pantry.” Fatima said with a strange calm in her voice for the events going on in the city.
A man in the set yelled,
“One minute, everyone!”
“Well, then. You ready?” Fatima asked.
“Yeah.”, Mike said as a woman ran up, applying makeup to his face.
She ran off and Mike said,
“Thanks Lanolin.”
He then pulled out his flask and took a swig of Scotch. He then drank the entire Dasini water bottle that was on the table.
The Teleprompters turned on as the man yelled,
“Ten seconds left!”
“You ready?” Mike asked Fatima.
“Yeah”, she said.
The man yelled, “And we’re on in five, four, three, two.”
A night time view of Epsom city and several ships over Red channel was shown. A disembodied voice said,
“Tonight it is Epsom City’s Number One news station, NBBC News 8 with Michael Mattingly and Fatima al-Ali, news, Fahmi Mehta, traffic, Karl England, sports, and Don Scott, weather.”
The camera then zoomed to two people sitting in a table. On the left was a thin man with grey hair and glasses wearing a beige suit. On the right was an Indian woman with a navy blue hijab and a women’s suit.
The man on the left said,
“I’m Michael Mattingly,”
The women on the right then said,
“and I’m Fatima al-Ali, and here’s your news. This evening, two people were killed in a massive accident on the R6 highway, causing a massive pileup. Also, three senior citizens were killed by a drive by shooting near the Three Oaks Retirement Village in Epsom North. More info later, but first is Don Scott with your weather.”
The camera cut and a man in front of a map of New Brittonia with several blue and green spots on it was shown. A tall man with a black beard said,
“I’m Don Scott. Tonight saw scattered showers all over the Blue Isle and some stretching to Epsom. The rest of the week will see clear skies and temperatures in the low to mid thirties. We will see more showers at the weekend, so pack your umbrella. To you, Mike.”
The camera turned to Michael, zooming in on his face. Today there was an accident on the R6 highway going west into Epsom. A Saab crashed into a Dodge Caliber, killing two people and injuring seven. The people were medevaced to Mercy hospital. This is NBBC News, and we are taking a quick commercial break.”
David took a breath and then said to Fatima,
“That was good.”
Fatima took a drink of water and then said,
“Ooh, just one commercial left. Get ready.”
A car was driving down on a road, turning on curves. A tall man yelled.
“Ted Brit Ford! Ted Brit Ford! We are moving out ALL the ‘07s to make room for the ‘08’s! That means NO down, NO interest for TWENTY MONTHS! Bad credit, no credit, NO PROBLEM! Buy! Buy! BUY!”
Fatima then appeared and now said,
“And now we’re back. Tonight, there was a shooting in Epsom North; here is Karen Kwan with the details.”
An Asian woman was standing by several ambulances in the night. EMS workers were running around, trying to operate on people and bring them into the ambulance. Policemen and women were securing the area and questioning the witnesses. She moved her hair away from her eyes and then said,
“Hello, I am Karen Kwan here at the Three Oaks Retirement Village where ten senior citizens were shot and seventeen were taken into the hospital, many in critical condition. Over seven of these people were over ninety and twelve were eighty. They were outside walking when a car stopped and began shooting at the people. The police have not released any names until their families have been notified. This is what one man says about it.”
Camera cuts to a black man sitting in a Toyota Preus,
“I got my parents there and my kids help they on weekends. How am I supposed to keep them safe? How am I supposed to keep my kids safe?”
Karen then said,
“Police will have more patrols in the Epsom North Area, plans are. Back to you.”
Mike said,
“Epsom Food Shelter, an interfaith food shelter founded by Hindu, Muslim, Catholic, and Jewish leaders in the Epsom community, is running dangerously low on food, authorities say. Their food drives at the beginning of the year should have provided enough food, but are not this time, they said. They are not turning down people but are begging people anywhere for food to be donated, as they desperately need it.”
Fatima then said,
“Any companies looking for advertisements are welcome to advertize. Just send a letter to NBBC Channel 8, PO BOX 27, Epsom New Brittonia 23555-73. It is now 11:30 and good night Brittonia.”
Mike stood up. He took another drink of water and then saw Fatima talking to some janitors and other personnel, something his other co-hosts never did.
“She’s a different kind of person.” he thought to himself as he was walking out of the front door.
Maybe you’ll see me come back to that… maybe. Anywhere, here it is, and the raven will fly again.
Through the cold hard rain, Michael Mattingly could barely see the office when he arrived in the dead of night.
“Shit.”, he thought while walking nearer to the building, “I am so late.”
Michael rolled up his now partially wet trench coat sleeve with his left hand, the one that was not holding his umbrella, and peeked a glance down at his watch.
22:35, it said.
He walked up to the front steps of the building, pulled out the keys to his Volkswagen Passat, remotely locking the car’s doors. The piercing noise that the locking of the doors made broke the pattering of the rain, and the flashing of the car’s yellow and white lights added a half of a second of brightness to the dark city.
Michael pushed open the door to the office, giving him a tired feeling that was not caused by the weight of the door. Rather, it was the whole work environment that made Michael tired every day. Gone were the Walter Cronkite days of the nightly news where the news anchor gave people hard facts of the nation and world. Now, Perez Hilton is king… or queen, and more people are obsessed with Lindsey Lohan’s drinking habits and David Beckham coming to America.
“I’m a dinosaur”, he muttered under his breath.
The entrance to the office was full of dozens of people in grey cubicles typing on computers or talking on phones.
Young people.
He began to start quietly walking to the door to the set, before he was confronted by a short brown-haired man in his mid thirties with the smallest bit of a moustache.
“You’re late. What did you do, forget what time it was?” David Peterson said with what might be an insult to Michael’s age.
“I was caught in traffic, an accident on the R6.” Mike said hoping that David would have sympathy.
“Okay, get on set. Try to drive without killing anyone when you get home.” David was completely serious when he said that, however.
Mike gave no response and just walked into the door of the set. The room was full of people, cameramen, electricians, and best boys. With no one looking, Mike walked up to a small table in the corner and began to pour himself a cup of coffee into a small Styrofoam cup.
Black.
With no cream or sugar.
At all.
He took one sip of it and thought,
“God, this is too weak.”
He put a lid on his cup so it won’t spill on his suit, but right when he was about to leave, David suffered his second interruption of the day, this time on the other side of the spectrum.
“Hey”, said a cheery voice from his right side, “What makes you so late?” That last part was said with the tiniest bit of a giggle.
It was pretty obvious who this was, she was the one person in this entire building did not think he was too old. It was Fatima al-Ali. She was his co-host for about three years, right when Channel 8 became anti-seniors, anti-Mike Mattingly. She was the only one in this entire station that treated Mike like a person, he respected that. However, friends, they were not. Well, in his eyes they were not, Fatima probably did view him as her friend. Still, her eternal ability to find the silver linings of the clouds of life was Mike’s pet peeve. If they were to meet under different circumstances, they would probably be friends. It was not the mood that turned him off, it was the timing of when they met. It was the simple fact that if he did not meet her when the station became anti-elderly, they would have been friends. This was not the case, and he just had to live with it.
“Oh, accident on the R6.” he said with a sense of tire in his voice.
“Oh my gosh, you were in that?! You’re all right?” Fatima asked as though she was not looking at him right now.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mike said.
“Well, that’s good… oh no!”
“What?”
“We need to get on the set.”
She began to walk to the set, a few chairs and a desk in front of a green screen. Mike followed her and sat down in the chair on the left. Mike then shuffled some papers and then asked,
“What do we have today?”
Fatima then replied,
“Well, you have that accident, a shooting, and there is a shortage of food at the food pantry.” Fatima said with a strange calm in her voice for the events going on in the city.
A man in the set yelled,
“One minute, everyone!”
“Well, then. You ready?” Fatima asked.
“Yeah.”, Mike said as a woman ran up, applying makeup to his face.
She ran off and Mike said,
“Thanks Lanolin.”
He then pulled out his flask and took a swig of Scotch. He then drank the entire Dasini water bottle that was on the table.
The Teleprompters turned on as the man yelled,
“Ten seconds left!”
“You ready?” Mike asked Fatima.
“Yeah”, she said.
The man yelled, “And we’re on in five, four, three, two.”
A night time view of Epsom city and several ships over Red channel was shown. A disembodied voice said,
“Tonight it is Epsom City’s Number One news station, NBBC News 8 with Michael Mattingly and Fatima al-Ali, news, Fahmi Mehta, traffic, Karl England, sports, and Don Scott, weather.”
The camera then zoomed to two people sitting in a table. On the left was a thin man with grey hair and glasses wearing a beige suit. On the right was an Indian woman with a navy blue hijab and a women’s suit.
The man on the left said,
“I’m Michael Mattingly,”
The women on the right then said,
“and I’m Fatima al-Ali, and here’s your news. This evening, two people were killed in a massive accident on the R6 highway, causing a massive pileup. Also, three senior citizens were killed by a drive by shooting near the Three Oaks Retirement Village in Epsom North. More info later, but first is Don Scott with your weather.”
The camera cut and a man in front of a map of New Brittonia with several blue and green spots on it was shown. A tall man with a black beard said,
“I’m Don Scott. Tonight saw scattered showers all over the Blue Isle and some stretching to Epsom. The rest of the week will see clear skies and temperatures in the low to mid thirties. We will see more showers at the weekend, so pack your umbrella. To you, Mike.”
The camera turned to Michael, zooming in on his face. Today there was an accident on the R6 highway going west into Epsom. A Saab crashed into a Dodge Caliber, killing two people and injuring seven. The people were medevaced to Mercy hospital. This is NBBC News, and we are taking a quick commercial break.”
David took a breath and then said to Fatima,
“That was good.”
Fatima took a drink of water and then said,
“Ooh, just one commercial left. Get ready.”
A car was driving down on a road, turning on curves. A tall man yelled.
“Ted Brit Ford! Ted Brit Ford! We are moving out ALL the ‘07s to make room for the ‘08’s! That means NO down, NO interest for TWENTY MONTHS! Bad credit, no credit, NO PROBLEM! Buy! Buy! BUY!”
Fatima then appeared and now said,
“And now we’re back. Tonight, there was a shooting in Epsom North; here is Karen Kwan with the details.”
An Asian woman was standing by several ambulances in the night. EMS workers were running around, trying to operate on people and bring them into the ambulance. Policemen and women were securing the area and questioning the witnesses. She moved her hair away from her eyes and then said,
“Hello, I am Karen Kwan here at the Three Oaks Retirement Village where ten senior citizens were shot and seventeen were taken into the hospital, many in critical condition. Over seven of these people were over ninety and twelve were eighty. They were outside walking when a car stopped and began shooting at the people. The police have not released any names until their families have been notified. This is what one man says about it.”
Camera cuts to a black man sitting in a Toyota Preus,
“I got my parents there and my kids help they on weekends. How am I supposed to keep them safe? How am I supposed to keep my kids safe?”
Karen then said,
“Police will have more patrols in the Epsom North Area, plans are. Back to you.”
Mike said,
“Epsom Food Shelter, an interfaith food shelter founded by Hindu, Muslim, Catholic, and Jewish leaders in the Epsom community, is running dangerously low on food, authorities say. Their food drives at the beginning of the year should have provided enough food, but are not this time, they said. They are not turning down people but are begging people anywhere for food to be donated, as they desperately need it.”
Fatima then said,
“Any companies looking for advertisements are welcome to advertize. Just send a letter to NBBC Channel 8, PO BOX 27, Epsom New Brittonia 23555-73. It is now 11:30 and good night Brittonia.”
Mike stood up. He took another drink of water and then saw Fatima talking to some janitors and other personnel, something his other co-hosts never did.
“She’s a different kind of person.” he thought to himself as he was walking out of the front door.