NationStates Jolt Archive

There is a myth that CEOs never do work, that they simply live off the sweat of the brows of others.

Jai Resi never lived by this rule.

Feeling the pin-pricks of heat on this back of his neck, Jai turned his posh leather chair around to face his bay window. The sun was starting to come up, he could see the soft, warm fingers of dawn arcing across the sky. The only thing satisfying about finishing an all-nighter finalizing trade agreements with folks on the other side of the world was the sunrise on this side.

A sharp knock on the door brought a half-dosed Jai back to his senses.

"Mister Resi, sir?" came a high-pitched voice from the other side, "Are you still here?"
"No," Jai grumbled, "Go away and let me sleep."

A young woman in her mid-to-late-twenties pushed open the door, a cup of coffee on a platter in her hands.

"You could use this, you know. You've got a meeting with the ambassador at noon, you know. That's not enough time to sleep."
Taking the coffee with some reluctance and sipping on it, Jai sighed grumpily, "Watch me."
"So how did the trade deal go?" the girl asked with genuine interest, trying to put his mind on something other than sleep.
"Good as always, I guess," came the half-awake reply, "We make good stuff, we both know that. People want good stuff... it works itself out mostly."
She allowed herself half of a laugh and a smirk. She knew he was just being difficult to try and get a rise out of her - they had worked together for five years and she had never seen him act differently.
"Claire," Jai muttered through his coffee, "Can't we reschedule the damn meeting? My mattress is calling to me."
"Stop being a baby and man up," she said with a slight smile, "If you can lead a corporation and a nation, you can damn well stave off sleep for a few more hours."
"A nation..." Jai sighed, "I guess that's what it is now, isn't it?"

Under Jai's father, Unum Resi, the corporation had grown from a simple tech company to a massive empire, creating, among other things, mass-marketed computers, cell phones, robots, tanks, military hardware, weapons, planes, and essentially anything that could be sold for money without waking up one morning to find a nation's armada aiming its guns at your office. Unum was eventually assassinated by communist rebels who resented the CEO's peaceful overthrow of the pseudo-socialistic government, which is where Jai came in. Tall, thin, and in his early 30's, Jai really had wanted nothing to do with the company, but as it had become entwined with the nation he saw no use but to take his father's place or see the country descend into civil war. He had grown used to the office of CEO, though, and now secretly loved the job and his newly-branded nation.

Not getting any response from Claire, Jai changed the topic.
"I've got an idea," he said, feeling obviously more awake, "Let's just throw whatever delegations would be delighted to recognize our new-ish leadership into a big room and make a diplomatic spectacle of it. That way I get it all out of my system in one fell swoop, and we give them all a chance to mingle. Just so long as none of them are actively genociding the others."
He turned to Claire.
"You could check on that for me, couldn't you?"
"Already did, and no," she responded, "Most of them are fairly neutral towards each other."
"Fantastic," came the relieved yet somewhat sarcastic response, "Send out the notices and invite some other nations you think wouldn't want to take the non-metaphorical shot at me. And please, do it before they think I've completely forgot about them and start poking red buttons that launch this and that."
"Yes sir, Mister Resi," she said, picking up the tray and moving to exit the room.
"Oh, and Claire?" Jai said, as she was about to leave.
"Yes, Mister Resi?"
"I love you."
"I know, Mister Resi," Claire said, grinning widely as she left the room.

OOC:
And here's where you come in. Send your delegations, your leaders, even some commoners who got the message by mistake, whoever you feel like sending, to the Resicorp shindig. We're a blend of future and modern tech, post-modern tech really, so RP with us if you feel like RPing with us.

Also, if you haven't guessed, I've hit the grand reset button on my nation. Hell if I'd give up the population count though, but all the story and such has been reverted to its basics. Expect to see familiar faces popping up, but if we have had past dealings with your nation don't expect us to remember you in-character. Think of this as Marvel Ultimate is to regular Marvel comics - everything is completely tweaked beyond recognition, and the artwork is much better.

Any other questions, ask me OOC.

OOC: As this is my first RP, do we send you just a representative from our nation to attend your "shindig?" as a newly declared empire we would like to start making ourselves known :P

OOC: As this is my first RP, do we send you just a representative from our nation to attend your "shindig?" as a newly declared empire we would like to start making ourselves known :P
OOC: You can do what you want, man, that's the glory of it. Though we're a fairly powerful nation so I'd recommend being official about it if you want us to be happy with you. :p

You can send whoever or whatever you want, just be prepared to write up their actions and dialog in much the same way as I've written up the intro here. You can look at other, more established RP threads for ideas on how to do this, or look at the FAQ if you don't mind reading pages and pages of links. Just so long as you don't do anything silly like drop a convention-full of furries on the diplomatic event, I'll play along with it.

Robert Jensen, the head of New Dornalia's resident Military Industrial Giant, the Jensen Design Bureau, had heard of the Resi Corporation's invitation for foreign delegates to come in. He figured he would come as one corporate leader to another. Thus, he packed a suitcase and shuttle to go to the appointed area. Of course, his friend, the great Comrade Premier MacIntyre, decided to intervene, and sent a diplomat with him. Rob Jensen shrugged. Rob MacIntyre was a nice guy, but this was a bit much....

Robert Jones and David Keejan, two of a number of Chief Officers that run The Garbage Men. Robert was chief marketing officer and David was the Chief Information Officer.

Having heard of this little party it made absolutely no sense why they wouldn't attend. Firstly, they had an ally in the "Corporations aren't, just mis-understood" battle but also it was a great chance to forge ties with other nations as well.

They set off in a sky-cab and headed towards to land that once was a nation, but now a fellow extra-national corp.

OOC: You can do what you want, man, that's the glory of it. Though we're a fairly powerful nation so I'd recommend being official about it if you want us to be happy with you. :p

You can send whoever or whatever you want, just be prepared to write up their actions and dialog in much the same way as I've written up the intro here. You can look at other, more established RP threads for ideas on how to do this, or look at the FAQ if you don't mind reading pages and pages of links. Just so long as you don't do anything silly like drop a convention-full of furries on the diplomatic event, I'll play along with it.

OOC: Hopefully this is a good one :P

A delegate runs into the court of the Emperor Of Espada Creciente with urgent news. Bowing before the emperor the delegate hands a notice stamped with the seal of The Resi Corporation addressed to the Empeor Himself.

"Pardon Emperor Juan I, we have recieved a notice from The Resi Corporation to join a worldwide delegation hosted by them and that other nations are actively deciding to maybe take part in this as well."

Reading over the letter, the Emperor Juan I stands up with that, in an instant the entire court of the Espada Empire bows with a signal of his hand the court resumes its normal posture waiting for the decision of the emperor.

"As we are a newly established empire, it is important for us to take this opportunity to establish alliances and diplomacy with other nations to benefit both parties, and that for us to be taken seriously we must show that we can be diplomatic and establish ties that can help the world in the long run and this is the perfect first opportunity to make ourselves begin the long journey to the world stage."

With his fist in the air, the emperor bellows "All Hail The Empire!"

In a thunderous roar, the entire court applauds and chants "All Hail the Empire! All Hail The Empire!"

With the green light from the Emperor the official delegate for foreign and domestic affairs sends a dossier to Grand General J.V Santos of the REA (Royal Espadan Army) at the Military Fortress Of Austurias where the Grand General hears a knock on the door and signals the delegate to enter who gives The Grand General the official dossier from the court of the emperor of himself.

To: Grand General J.V. Santos
From: The Court of His Majesty the Emperor Of Espada Creciente

By order of His Majesty, you have been appointed to attend a worldwide delegate meeting hosted by The Resi Corporation, in order to improve our relations with the rest of the world. His Majesty wishes you the best in your mission and we do hope this will open talks to begin conversing with our neighboring countries.nations

From: The Royal Espadan Delegate of Foreign and Domestic Affairs,
Don Carlos De Espada

With this official sanction from His Majesty, the Grand General motions his council to convene and plans to prepare for his trip.

"I have been chosen to attend an internation delegation hosted by The Resi Corporation, and thus i will require my best suit with all my decorations/honors, and a private Jet with 20 REA Imperial Guards."

"In my absence i leave Maj. General Antonio De Santana as leader of this Fortress in my absence, is that understood?"

"Yes Grand General!" everyone as one echoed in the room.

With this the Grand General J.V Santos leaves the room and prepares to make the trip to The Resi Corporation. Preparing his finest Military Uniform adorned with vast military decorations/honors, he sleeps and has a private jet ready to take off in the morning.

Dawn finally came and when the Grand General was all dressed up he was escorted by the Imperal Guards of the REA, and to his surprise the entire military stationed at the Fortress was lined up to salute the Grand General before his take off.

"Hail Grand General J.V. Santos! All Hail The Empire!!"

As one everyone "All Hail The Empire!!'

With a glorious view of his loyal command he steps onto the jet and takes of for The Resi Corporation.

--QUETZAL NODE ONLINE
--TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE INITIATED
--ID has joined the conversation
--EGO has joined the conversation
--SUPEREGO has joined the conversation

ID- Goddamit, why do you always interrupt me when I'm busy?

EGO- Possibly because we're not particularly interested in your rather demented passtimes. And possibly because the business at hand is important. And possibly because you have more than enough processor power to devote to both your amusements and to this conversation while still waging intergalactic war.

ID- Flattery will get you everywhere, Ego. What's up?

SUPER- Diplomacy, friend. I doubt you understand the concept, but at least I've tried.

ID- Oooh, Super, fighting back for once? I'm pleasantly surprised! This makes things interesting!

SUPER- Please. The business at hand?

EGO- Indeed. A company cum nation called the Resi Corporation is hosting a diplomatic gala. Getting it's name out there as it were. We are sending an Avatar.

ID- What, already decided? Then we bother me?

SUPER- Because we love you so. Formality, really. My vote and Ego's carry it, but we're required by the Codes to notify you. So consider this your notification. We've already dispatched the Violence is My First Resort to represent the Regency. Ego figured the name gives a nice impression, keeps them on their toes. I disagree, of course, but you support that one already.

ID- Gee, ya think? Anything else you ingrates need to tell me about before I go back to cleaning up the shit on the universe's toilet seat?

SUPER- How colorful. No. You may resume your sterilization and relocation initiatives, although I highly suspect there will be far too much of the former and little to none of the latter. System, end sequence.

--ID has left the conversation
--EGO has left the conversation
--SUPER has left the conversation
--TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE DISENGAGED
--QUETZAL NODE OFFLINE

OOC: Welcome back, and I'll be damned if your name doesn't seem horrifyingly familiar for some reason. Anyway, let the games begin!

ooc: I probably won't be posting, but welcome back dude... I just came back a couple o months ago :)

OOC:
Good, good, but as a rule you generally should avoid RPing anyone affiliated with another nation that's a player, otherwise I could just make a member of your nation call my CEO a douchebag on international TV and declare war over it. Not very legitimately, of course, but that's still why we don't RP other nations' peoples.
IC:
"So, who do we have so far?" asked Jai, having swapped his empty coffee cup for a martini. Shaken, not stirred.

It's hard to have juvenile spy fantasies when you have a nation to run.

"Well, so far three entities, nations and corporations, have responded with representatives," Claire replied, reading the notices on her PDA, "we've got Robert Jensen, who as far as I can tell is the CEO of the international giant, Jensen Design Bureau, and two representatives of an organization that identifies itself as, get this," she coughed, "The Garbage Men."

"Strange bedfellows," Jai said, sipping his martini with his right hand while taking an imaginary gunshot at the potted plant in the corner with his left.

"The third is apparently a Grand General from Espada Creciente, a fledgling nation looking for friends within our fledgling administration."

"Hell, with a title that grandiose, let him come," Jai replied, finishing off his martini with a vengeance, "It'll sound cool that I wined and dined a Grand General, at the very least."

"I'll keep you posted on others as they reply sir," Claire said, flipping shut her PDA, "Would you like me to get you another one of those?"

"Yes, please," said Jai, raising the empty glass with a smile, "I haven't quite mistaken you for Moneypenny yet, and that needs to change."

EDIT: Coffee comes in a cup, not a glass, silly me. And thanks for the welcomes, it's good to be back. <3

ooc: well i am beat for the night, so whatever happens here i will be sure to catch up with in the morning.:cool:

"Oh hey, check this out," exclaimed Claire, her PDA buzzing in alarm.
"Mmm?" mumbled Jai, throughly engrossed in his second martini.
"Some big player in space wants to land a starship on us."
"Say it with a British accent."
"Not this again."
"That's an order from your superior. Say it."
"Doesn't it bother you in the least they're going to land a space ship on us?"
"Say it."
"You know, if this was a legitimate company I could sue you for harassment by now."
"You aren't saying it."

Claire sighed. Sometimes, Jai acted too childish for even her to handle.
"They'll figure out where to land it," Jai replied, feigning seriousness, "We already have facilities for small-scale ship construction, orbital fighters and such. They can land it on the leftover rainforest for all I care, it saves us the trouble of clearing it out."
"But what about the animals? What about the monkeys?" Claire asked, not seriously concerned.
"Lordy lordy, gods forbid I deprive the local yokels of their lunchmeat," Jai replied with a scowl as he finished the last of his second martini.
"Another," he said, tapping the glass.

"A corporate nation?" First Councillor Scott Lewis grimaced in distaste.

"Not quite, Scott. More a corporation that has... err... declared itself to be a nation."

"So a CorporNation then?"

Foreign Minister Sapphire Swiftblade rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long day, if the First Councillor was going to insist on playing the comedian.

"I guess you could call it that. Our dossiers on this... ResiCorp are somewhat slim. They're pretty big in the arms manufacturing and technology industries, and their cheese exports are titanic. The Corporation took over the country when the current CEO's father, now deceased, overthrew the government in a bloodless coup. That's pretty much all we have. In short, they're oppressive, not particularly environmently considerate, and very, very rich."

Lewis frowned for a moment. "I see. And we want dealings with these people... why, exactly? We've spent years keeping the corporations out of Karullia. Now one declares itself a state, and thus we should start seeking diplomatic dialogues? No thanks."

Sapphire bit her lip. "Know Thine Enemies, Scott. I have a funny feeling about ResiCorp, and it would be prudent to, y'know, keep an eye on them. I was thinking about sending one of my agents to this little...ah..."shindig", just to observe things. If nothing else, this new...err.. "CorporNation" presents a worrying development in national governance."

"They're hardly new, Sapph. But you're right... maybe we should keep an eye on this lot. Just who did you have in mind?"

------------------------------

Jonathan Derrick wasn't a particularly exceptional agent. He'd never thwarted the schemes of an evil genius, saved the world, or been in a gunfight with legions of tough-looking but appalingly inaccurate henchmen. In fact, he'd only ever fired a gun in mandatory training - he'd spent his national service as an adjutant, never actually on active duty. But what he was very, very good at was passing unnoticed in crowds.

32 years old, just short of 5'8", with a slightly pudgy build and an affable, if unmemorable, countenance, Derrick really wasn't anything special. A fully trained case operative in the Karullian Special Intelligence Office, Derrick had spent much of the last five years working routine operations, all of which had been performed well - and without the bells, whistles and property damage so characteristic of other, more flambuoyant secret agents.

So when the missive landed on his desk, ordering him to prepare a dossier on the Resi Corporation and to attend a party in the newly-declared nation, he wasn't surprised. Or bothered. It was just another job.

He sighed, and went to work.

Three days later, Jonathan Derrick was aboard a passenger jet, heading for the Resi Corporation's capital city. He would be posing as an international investment banker's trade representative, one of a plethora of minor businessmen expected to attend the party.

The in-flight movie was Tomorrow Never Dies. Derrick didn't watch it.

He hated spy movies.

The Garbage Men, were all things to all people, well that's what they wanted to try and present themselves as, complete package of sanitation, cleanliness and restoration of used items. They had a very good PR department and their motto was "Your Friendly Sanitation Providers".

One of their main marketing points was a strong standard for safety procedures for handling toxic or other hazardous material. They prided themselves on keeping their client's and the nations that they worked in as clean and environmentally friendly as possible. They even had a number of Eco-Friendly technologies they developed that could be deployed in various types of factories to help reduce harmful emissions.

Little however is known about TGM's "headquarters" (They prefer being known as TGM to emphasise the human aspect of interaction and to down play the corporate side) nor about their processes once the waste is in International Waters or in one of TGM's "waste recieval stations" dotted in isolated places around the planet.

OOC: You are welcome to have them enter whereever the event is going to take place, they are going to be looking around every. Looking for every potential opportunity that comes their way.

As for Robert and David, they arrived in a fairly mundane manner using one of the corporations jet passenger aircraft to take them to the airport. Having arranged transportation with one of the Resi Corp's many subsiduries they left the airport and headed on their way to where this little event was going to take place.

OOC: So, will this Derrick fellow be coming under your banner, or undercover as something? Or will I have to find out the hard way? :P
IC:

A generation or two ago, while the city was still named Crescent, the Hall of Honor stood to remind the locals of ancient heroes who had fought in wars near forgotten to defend their island from domineering empires that had crumbled with time. Now, the capital of the empire that was once Caldonia is now known as Resi City, and the Hall of Honor still stands, beautifully antiquated, a relic to times long lost.

Jai's tiltroter set down in the middle of a secured plaza to the side of the Hall, allowing just enough time for the potentate to disembark flanked by his faithful secretary and three armed men who clearly enjoyed fancy suits.

"It's a shame he had to name it Resi City," Jai muttered to himself as the tiltroter whirred off into the distance, "I really liked 'Crescent'."
"Couldn't you just rename it again, then?" said Claire, ever the straight-woman to Jai's nonsense.
"I would, but it's a little gauche to rename a city that's already named after myself."

Walking through the statuary hall to the atrium, Claire allowed her eyes to wander amongst the vaguely Greco-Roman marble statues that lined the hall, their features drawn up in gold leaf. She hadn't been here sense she was a little girl in Crescent, and always though it was a little funny that no one could quite pin a name or artist on any one of these statues, no matter how ornate they were.

The atrium was already crowded with dignitaries, reporters, and a few pieces of celebrity eye-candy when Jai arrived. Taking his place at the back of the room near the hall to the garden plaza, Jai attempted to hit on one fairly attractive starlet amongst subtle yet particularly crushing elbows to the gut from the woman at his side.

Time to wait for the truly important people to arrive.

OOC: Blueprint of the place, for those interested:
http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f195/wetsail/blueprinttemplate.jpg

OOC: Oh shit, it's Resi! Welcome back friend.

Quick question, does my purchase of the Resi Corporation that I made all those years ago still stand?

OOC: Oh shit, it's Resi! Welcome back friend.

Quick question, does my purchase of the Resi Corporation that I made all those years ago still stand?
OOC: Well, seeing as I hit the reset button and all the reasons and crazy storylines that lead up to that are in the bucket, I'm thinking unfortunately not. =/

The reason I reset it was that the backstory got too convoluted for even me to follow, and the characters were in kind of a bad place. Two of my main characters were dead, one was ineffectual, one was ripped off from a crappy anime sense day one, another one or possibly two were insane, and the one I was using mainly was both insane and a newly-resurrected nanotech god.

Plus, I haven't seen any of the feared posters from my day and age like Melkor touch the forums recently, so there'd be a big chunk of my backstory gone there too.

OOC: Welcome Back, you remember me.

After learning of the new corporate nation, The Liberal Democratic Republic decided to attend the party in order to improve relations and learn what it was all about. The delegates was Frederick Lichtenburg, a State Department official and Alexander Logan, Jr., the son of the CEO of one of Wolfenhalle's largest companies. Frederick was to handle diplomatic affairs while Alex handle possible business deals with his company. The men boarded a government plane bound for Resi Corporation. "Ok, This a coporate nation or megacorp, or whatever. They're in for business, which means you might be doing most of the work." Lichtenburg said as the plane leaves John C. Handstand. Sr. International.

OOC: Hahaha, what is this? International resurrection month? You've got to be about the third or fourth nation I've seen return after some extended hiatus, including myself. Well, not much more to say, other than, welcome back man. I think I still have some combat robots that I bought from you way back, still active and kicking. :D .

Sorry for no IC part, I've yet to write out my return. But again, welcome back.

[OOC: *dies* It's the Resi Corporation! Welcome back! People like Melkor are still around, but mostly just lazy - Arda's been toying with doing *something* for some time.]

Derrick's there posing as an international businessman, a minor player in whatever his cover industry is. He's there purely to work out if ResiCorp is any threat to Karullia's anti-corporate policies, and to work out how, exactly, a corporate nation works. Just to alleviate any fears, he's in no way there to disrupt anything, attack anyone, or in any way instigate violence.

IC post coming later today.

OOC: Hark! I sense a presence I have not felt since...

*turns around and notices Resi Corp*

You have come back, old friend. The Force is with you, indeed.

IC:

"Resi Corp?" I, Daniel Alexander Masaki, looked up from my paperwork before the aide who reported to me. "Interesting...does Vector Industries know already?"

"Yes, sir. They're sending their very own Jeff Andonuts and asked for a diplomat to make official contact."

I smiled. "I see. Send one immediately."

"Yes, sir."

I placed my chin on the back of my hands. "Resi Corp...I have a feeling you and Coredia will have a wonderful relationship in the future..."

=====

"Thank you for flying Vector Spacelines to Resi Corp! We hope you have enjoyed your ride!" Chimed the happy-sounding droid in the cockpit of the shuttle.

"They always sound too happy." Jeffrey "Jeff" Andonuts grumbled, adjusting his glasses.

"Eh, don't worry about it." Patrick "Picky" Minch, one of the many "Diplomats with Lightsabers" of the Diplomatic Corps, replied. "Besides, we got here, right?"

"I suppose so." Jeff looked out at the scenery as the shuttle, emblazoned with the symbol of Vector Industries, descended through the skies and entered the commercial airspace. "I wonder what they're like."

"We'll find out, old friend." Picky grinned. "We'll find out."

*KZZXK* This is Vector Industries Spacelines Shuttle Flight 857 to Resi Corporation Air Traffic Control. Requesting clearance for landing, over! *KKZTT*

OOC: Woot! welcome back, I will try and post tomorrow.

Time to wait for the truly important people to arrive.


OOC: I do recognize you, now that I think about it....this means I can have Washu, though, I guess.

IC:

Robert Jensen and his tagalong had by now made it into Resi Corporate space, and Bob had to admire the setup. Smiling, he said to the tagalong, a petite catgirl diplomat with glasses and her own attaché case, "I wish JDB had this much to spend. Damn Congress. Always cramping my style." He smiled smugly, playing the role of the Big Man in the cabin of the shuttle as it entered commercial airspace. He looked out the window and just kept on thinking envious thoughts. This made JDB, with its massive economic influence in New Dornalia, virtual monopoly on shipbuilding and a shipping department as nimble as a Romanian Gymnast, look bush league by comparison.

The pilot of the shuttle was more mundane about his business though, and focused on the travel. He radioed the airport, "Attention Resi Corporate Command or Appropriate Authorities. This is Jensen Design Bureau Corporate Shuttle Draftsman One. Repeat, this is Draftsman One, requesting permission to land. Mr. Robert Jensen is onboard!"

OOC: I do recognize you, now that I think about it....this means I can have Washu, though, I guess.OOC: Heh, I suppose. I like where I went with her character, but it always annoyed me that I ripped her off from Tenchi in the first place.

Good to see you too, Core. :)
IC:
The reply comes back from the tower:
Draftsman One is clear for landing on runway 3. Inform your dignitaries that there will be a limo waiting for them near the end of the airstrip, and that we sincerely hope they enjoy themselves within our borders.

----------------------------------------------------------

Another reply comes back from the tower:
VIS Shuttle Flight 857 is clear for landing on runway 1. Inform your dignitaries that there will be a limo waiting for them near the end of the airstrip, and that we sincerely hope they enjoy themselves within our borders.

Pilots making routine visits to the Unum International Airport have some serious and not entirely unfounded concerns over its level of automation.

OOC: Heh, I suppose. I like where I went with her character, but it always annoyed me that I ripped her off from Tenchi in the first place.

Good to see you too, Core. :)
IC:
The reply comes back from the tower:
Draftsman One is clear for landing on runway 3. Inform your dignitaries that there will be a limo waiting for them near the end of the airstrip, and that we sincerely hope they enjoy themselves within our borders.



Draftsman One landed as cleared on Runway 3, the Pilot acknowledging the Tower with, "Acknowledged, tower. Will do, over." As this occurred, the Pilot broadcasted to Rob Jensen and the Tagalong, "Mr. Jensen, the Authorities wish to tell you that there's transport waiting. A limo."

Jensen replied happily, "Thanks, Joe. Keep me posted." A smile crept on his face as the shuttle landed and the party went to the waiting transport that took them to their destination. These were people who knew how to respect a man's hard work! The Tagalong, meanwhile, looked around in amazement, taking in the whole thing.

Another reply comes back from the tower:
VIS Shuttle Flight 857 is clear for landing on runway 1. Inform your dignitaries that there will be a limo waiting for them near the end of the airstrip, and that we sincerely hope they enjoy themselves within our borders.
Pilots making routine visits to the Unum International Airport have some serious and not entirely unfounded concerns over its level of automation.
"Affirmative!" Chirped the Cheerful Droid Pilot. "Passengers! A transport awaits you at the end of the airstrip! How wonderful!"

Jeff scowled at the droid, but he was secretly pleased with the idea of having a limo prepared for him. There were some places that he was forced to walk in glaring sunlight with a green jacket and slacks. And who wanted to do that, eh?

The shuttle kicked in its repulsarlifts as it neared the runway. With an obvious lack of wheels and useful wings, it was the only way the ship could act like an airplane as it lands on the runway. Of course, taking off had no such issue...anyway, they landed and that was that. After the shuttle taxied to the end the of the airstrip, the two young men descended from the ramp that was produced to the waiting limo...

An argue? Debate? Political discussion? At least the last of those was beyond all belittlements... To be honest, it was nothing less than an ordinary evening in the Hall of The Great Council, to which all the Profession Representation Councils were attending to.

About a dozen of Metal Workers' Council members were in a full-fledged fist fight in the middle of the room, even though it was rather unclear -and not least to themselves - what exactly were they fighting for. Some Sailors' C. representatives were throwing empty bottles over the group, in attempt to drop the Peasan's C. fellow from the speaker's box. No one could hear what the poor peasant was trying to say, but that made hardly any difference. Majority of the all Councilmen were hugely drunk already, with the exception of Urban Farmers Council. They all sat in one corner, smoking pot and refusing to discuss with anyone else. A group of Redblack Guard soldiers and Baltic Fleet Seamen, apparently on leave from their base, were firing their assault rifles at the ceiling. They weren't the only non-councilmen in the Hall - in Kronstadtia it's quite common for ordinary people to just walk into meetings of this sort, as the guards standing at the doors are usually too wasted to react. In fact, this time the door-guards weren't even in a vertical position anymore.

Spokesman Of The Council of Foreign Affairs, Dock Worker's Councilman Valeri Senerev-Carioca was singing Internationale with the Naval Affairs' Spokesman, an empty bottle in his left and The Constitution in his right hand when a surprisingly sober Post Council member (there are no Offices or Ministries here, only the countless number of Councils) approached him.

"Good evening, comrade Senerev! I have a *bows to dodge a passing bottle* invitation for some *a pause for avoiding Naval Affairs Spokesman vomit* international meeting. It's from some big capitalist organization, but they're quite powerful so we thought you should be informed."

Senerev-Carioca nodded, smiling happily. Even through all the haze in his head he was still able to catch the relevant parts of the messenger's talk. A big meeting. Important people. Powerful nations. Well aware of the fact that he wouldn't probably remember this for long he responded hastily:

"Righto... well I think we will send... someone... ummm... you pick someone from the floor and put him to plane. Yes... action, comrade! We don't have the whole BOTTLE OF WHISKEY! Over there...!"

The postman understood that Senerev-Carioca - who was already on his way towards a lonely bottle he had spotted on the other side of the hall - wasn't going to add anything. Well, he thought, order's an order!.


__________________

Main Gun Operator 1st Class, sailor-comrade Dmitri Yatarov woke up in a small jet, tied to his seat. He had no idea of what had happened last night, after he and his buddies had entered the Great Council Meeting, and... did we really start to shoot at the ceiling...?
He had the headache of the century, which was the most pressing concern at the moment. Why exactly was he in this plane, and where was it going, were only secondary issues.

After a time that felt much like the already-mentioned century, the plane begun to land. Dmitri's head hadn't even recovered from the bounces and tattering of the touchdown, when the door to the cockpit opened.

"We're in the Resi City now, comrade. You are an official representative of Kronstadtia, in some meeting here. Numerous other nations and capitalist organizations take part too, I think, so try pulling your shit together. Now, don't try anything stupid when I untie you, I'm not responsible here."

For a brief moment Dmitri considered the possibility of knocking down the pilot and flying the thing back to home, bur his condition was too weak for such thing. Besides, he was a sailor, not a fly-boy.
Depressed, he lay his head to his hands and whispered;

"Ok. I get it. Just help me up and pass me a joint. I'll manage. I'll manage... just please... come to get me back when this shit is over."

After having their identities checked at the front door, David and Robert walked down the corridor attempting to gain an insight into the culture of this nation corporation.

In some ways it seemed similiar and yet different to their own corporation, there were "employees" and then there were "others". Others were loosely affiliated entities that provided various support and other *cough* entertainments. Oh just were supported by direct gifts by employees. Most of these were family members.

The structure was a strict corporate structure forming TGM into a basically Fuedal realm with a myriad of levels .. management and operational. Unfortunately they hadn't been able to get a picture of this "Jai Resi", nor had any idea what he looked like. However they spotted the Security guards, the guards, even though they were in suits and nice ones at that, were still obviously guards. However they did know that Jai was male so they dismissed the female as his wife or personal assistant/secretary.

They briefly looked at each other confirming their identification, and then headed to the owner of the mega-corp. They didn't know whether to bow or shake hands with the culture, perhaps they did away with such frivolous wastes of time? but still one did not show respect to a man such as Jai.

So they bowed a deep bow to their host and then proffered their respective Hands to be shaken "Jai Resi, I presume owner and administrator of this corporation and nation, respectively, I presume?" Robert offered before introducing himself and David.

"My name is Robert Jones, and this is David Keejan (OOC: pronounced like Cajun) We're the CMO and CIO of The Garbage Men. Thank you for allowing us to come."

The limo driver stationed on runway one waved to his counterpart on runway three. The two had a longstanding bet that came into play whenever they both had to drive two separate people to the same event - whichever one got the wealthiest client won a free sandwich on the other's credit card.

The limo driver on runway three groaned. Though it wasn't immeadiately apparent, he could already tell from the differences in the airplanes that his friend would be eating pretty tonight.

In tandem they opened the rear doors of their limos for their guests. While this wasn't a practiced habit, it still often had the effect of unnerving their clients, which they both secretly relished in their own, sadistic working class way.

"The diplomatic shindig, sirs?" said limo driver one.
"The diplomatic gala, sirs?" said limo driver three.

The first groaned inside his head. He told his failure of a counterpart that the word was "shindig".
The other driver's mental process was much the same, only with their roles reversed, and a small bit of wondering if this transgression would allow him to keep his own sandwich.

As the first two limo drivers saw to their guests, a third rolled up to runway four to escort the delegation of Kronstadtia. Limo driver four disembarked, and noticed his compatriots going through the synchronized motions with some disdain. Unlike those plebes, limo driver four took his job seriously, and considered it a dignified position worthy of respect and admiration.

The door on the Kronstadtian plane opened and the delegation disembarked.
Good lord, thought limo driver four with a sinking feeling of abhorrance, I can smell the cheap booze from here.

--------------------------------------------------

The janitor the two men from TGM were addressing was bewildered. He thought to himself, wondering if he should play along and see if he could score a lucrative trade contract of his own, but eventually decided against it. With his luck he'd most likely be the unwitting instigator of a thermonuclear war, which, as most people consider, is bad.

"Er..." he babbled, "You want the gent in the corner there with the two women. This here is the only suit I own, I'm only here on account of my wife's connections."
With this, he pointed to the starlet that Jai Resi was trying, with no avail, to flirt up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jai spotted the two men and the bewildered janitor gesticulating wildly in his direction. Disengaging himself from what he knew from a few years of experience would only lead to him trying to flirt up other women the rest of the night with a gigantic red palm mark across half his face, he approached the two men with a genial swagger, Claire in his wake.

Offering his hand, he introduced himself as best he could while still trying to convince himself that the starlet, wedding band and all, was beyond hope.
"It's a pleasure to meet you two," he said with a smile, "I'm Jai Resi, the CEO of this enterprise, and this is my secretary Claire Tinara. Are you two gentlemen guests, or diplomats?"

OOC: For the record, here's the man in question:
http://i47.photobucket.com/albums/f195/wetsail/ceojairesi.jpg

The two of them were professionals they pretended that this was the plan all along and they were merely asking this man to direct them to the CEO.

Robert smiled, "perhaps you could say both, I'm Robert Jones and this is David Keejan, from The Garbage Men. Nice to meet you." Robert extended his own hand and shook Jai's hand. David however slipped the Janitor his business card, as he turned and extended his own hand and graciously smiled to their host.

"Ma'am," David gave a brief head bow, to the secretary. Everyone in TGM knew to get access to the people you want you need to get in with their "people". And it certainly seemed that this secretary was basically attached at the hip, which meant heavily involvement in practically all areas of life. She perhaps was more of a life manager than a mere "secretary".

"I would love to sit down and have a talk about any syngergies that might exist with our own services and products and the many and varied products that your corporation produces." Robert commented as if in passing, showing no desperation, nor urgency. As if it would just take a moment and it perhaps could happen whenever there was a free moment. They seemed to arrive early there were only a few people there to talk to, however this was part of their plan, give enough time to actually talk to every single representative that would arrive.

Which is in fact what they planned to do, very ambitious but they hoped to do just that.

"The diplomatic shindig, sirs?" said limo driver one.
"The diplomatic gala, sirs?" said limo driver three.



Jensen nodded and said with good humor, "The diplomatic function, driver. Posthaste!"

When the Dornalians arrived at the diplomatic function, they entered the room with a businesslike yet relaxed manner. Robert Jensen (http://web2.seventymm.com/images/ActorImage/22670.jpg)stood tall and proud, adjusting his collar to ensure it was straight as he entered the meetingplace. The tagalong, meanwhile, also stood proud, though somewhat more distractedly as she was busy taking in the environment and wondering about the proposition she was going to give.

The walk wasn't too difficult, and after passing security they entered the area where Jai Resi was doing some business with the Garbage Men company. He walked somewhat closer to the assembled, and waited for them to finish their business first, before walking up to the assembled, bowing and saying with a hearty handshake for Jai, "Good day, Mr. Resi. I'm Robert Jensen, Chief Executive Officer of Jensen Design Bureau of New Dornalia. It's a pleasure to meet you." He then turned to the Garbage Men, and also bowed and shook their hands, saying, "And it's a pleasure to see you too." He then continued to all concerned with a smile and a pleasant tone, "I look forward to conducting business with you all." He then pointed to the Tagalong, and said cheerfully, "Oh! Before I forget. This is Special Envoy Alina Jacinta-chibi, from my government's Commissariat of Foreign Affairs."

Alina nodded and said, "Hello, one and all."

Three people strode into the large room of various diplomats. These three were not such people... all were dressed in military uniforms and were likely here on business. After all, Resi built weapons were worth taking a look at, most times.

The one of highest rank (that being a Colonel) strode across the room and stopped near Jai and watched him. She was a cold eyed woman with a general demeanor that said she wasn't a rear-echelon officer by choice. One of the others with her appeared to be her adjunct and the other was in the matte black uniform that was indicative of special forces. After a moment, the Colonel spoke in a low tone that carried well. "Mister Resi, I am Colonel Sonya Volsung. When you have a free moment... the delegation from Crimmond would like to welcome you back to the world stage."

http://img215.imageshack.us/img215/7175/sonya1ng4.jpg
Colonel Volsung

"The diplomatic shindig, sirs?" said limo driver one.
"Of course." Jeff nodded and the two young men, who in other nations would often be mistaken for teenagers, entered the limo. "Thank you."

Not to be outdone by Robert Jenson as they arrived -the rivalry between Jenson and Vector was no big secret and technological competition for contracts was fierce- they too introduced themselves to the other players of the scene.

"Jeff Andonuts, Vector Industries." Jeff introduced himself. He noticed that Robert Jenson was here in person. Interesting.

"Patrick Minch, but everyone calls me Picky. Coredian Diplomatic Corps." Picky smiled.

Robert was slightly annoyed that the Dornalian interjected while business was still going one but he was a professional. He bowed and shook the hand of the man that distracted him from Jai with a smile, all the time muttering curses at him, though only in his head.

"And same here."

Meanwhile david looked at the Dornalian government representative, governments were perhaps the major employer of TGM services even though mainly it was local councils. They needed to have done business with the concept of government was really quite archaic.

But there we go, surely there was something that TGM could involve themselves in with commiserat and perhaps even the Jensen's crew, but for now he wanted to at least get some kind of confirmation from Jai first.