NationStates Jolt Archive

Anthony Julius Lindisfarne looked out of the window of the AM Armada, staring out with his deep steel-blue eyes into the city below him. Below him laid the gorgeous, sunny city of Gorald, which had been in existence for centuries. He smiled at the beauty of the city, though his thoughts were quickly interrupted when his personal bodyguard, Koboil Opal, opened the back door of the piano black Armada, her Firecrest Jerusalem semi-automatic pistol tucked in safely against her belt. She stared at the blonde-haired Lindisfarne for a moment, her emerald green eyes looking through him rather than at him.

"Mister President, we're at GGO," she spoke swiftly, using the official Alstian Intelligence and Security Service codename for the Gorald Governmental Offices, a gargantuan palace which overlooked the capital from a tall hill which observed Gorald. She motioned for her principal to get out of the Armada, holding the door open for him. The summer breeze hit his bearded face, his black hair being stirred softly by the zephyr. He did his silken red tie quickly, and put on his suit jacket. He left a friendly smile escape towards Opal, and she blushed ever so slightly before guiding her principal into the palace, past two armed guards from the Alstian Special Forces, both of them male, their shovel-like hands each gripping a Anakasha automatic assault rifle, the Alstian copy of the Kalashnikov, firmly in their grip. Lindisfarne passed them without a word as he entered the building's entrance hall. Looking at it, one would not have been able to decipher that this lobby was that of the headquarters of a government; with the way it was done up, with the bar, café and the other luxuries, it liked more suitable in a respected auberge downtown. He walked up to the front desk and greeted Katrina Clarke, the receptionist.

"Good afternoon, Mister President," smiled Clarke, turning away from her computer screen to hand Lindisfarne a piece of A4-sized paper. "You have a cabinet meeting in ten minutes, sir."

Lindisfarne looked at the paper. It detailed the agenda for this week's agenda. Discussion and vote on appropriate action on the issue of Agriculture Minister Dane's corruption allegations. Lindisfarne grimaced for a moment at that. John Dane had been a good man, but the Gordonshire Rural Council had bribed him into convincing the cabinet to fund rather useless Gordonshire farming projects instead of paying more attention to the crops in neighbouring Lorthshire, which would have been successful if given more funding. Lindisfarne had been the Minister of Defence at the time, before Saul Fitzgerald had retired and the cabinet had elected Lindisfarne the President. It wasn't that paramount of an issue really, but political corruption in the Socialist Republic was viewed in much the same way an eight-year-old boy saw a dolls' house; frightening and evil. And, Lindisfane reminded himself in his thoughts, It was the first corruption scandal since the nineteen sixties.

"Cheers, Miss Clarke," the 42-year-old smiled, his charm practically absorbing the young brunette. He could do that to every women except Opal. That pricked his mind. You have the entire feminine world at your feet except one tomboy girl! And you're married, you imbecile! There was something about that girl he liked. Very much. It wasn't her slim, attractive figure, her chestnut brown hair which was long enough to remain enchanting but short enough to remind you she was smarter than you, her seductive alert eyes...Lindisfarne ordered his temptations to be silent for now.

He walked with Opal towards the elevator, which would take them to the third floor, where the offices of the cabinet were located, the cabinet meeting room and several other major governmental offices. Lindisfarne resisted his deep wish to admire his security guard barely, hoping that Opal didn't notice. But you know she did.

He exited the elevator and was guided by Opal, in her black suit, to the meeting room, where all the members of cabinet were awaiting him. Opal opened the oak door for her principal, following him inside. Lindisfarne greeted them all and, after the usual trivia discussion and absentees, they jumped straight to the most pressing issue; the corruption scandal. Minister Dane was attending also, sweating like a pig awaiting his doom.

"Now, my fellow cabinet members, I wish to bring up by far the most important article of discussion and vote of this week's meeting; the corruption scandel of Agriculture Minister Dane," spoke up Lindisfarne, giving a quick review of the situation and the public backlash. "Does any member wish to speak about the matter at hand?"

"Yes," spoke up Environment Minister Alexandria Johannes, an eco-socialist. "The acts committed by Minister Dane are revolting and should be punished direly. Corruption is unacceptable in the Socialist Republic on any scale, and I call for the immediate resignation of the Agriculture Minister and a prison sentence for the minister."

Dane started sweating even further, now dabbing his black hair with a handkerchief. "Well, minister, I..well...it was..."

Several other cabinet ministers gave a short statement advocating the Environment Minister's harsh words. Dane actually rushed out of the room at one point, during an exceptionally cruel speech by Defence Minister Boris Gerald, to vomit. What a weak bastard.

In about one hour, Lindisfarne spoke again. "Now is the time for voting. All in agreement mutter 'aye'."

All but one of the cabinet members muttered 'aye'. The other one said nothing, the sweat pouring down him. "All in disagreement mutter 'nay'."

One croaky 'nay' could barely be heard in the room. "This concludes today's article of discussion. Minister Augustus Dane has been dismissed from his post as Minister of Agriculture and will be imprisoned for three hundred and sixty-five days at a low security prison. Now, is there any other business?"

No voices could be heard in the room. Lindisfarne ended the meeting. "This meeting is officially ended."

The rest of the cabinet quickly left the room, Lindisfarne being the last one to exit. He went back the way he came in, down the elevator. He got a quick tea from the lobby's café and set off back to the black Armada, Opal leading him towards it. He looked down at the city again, hands behind back, staring down into its beauty from the edge of a cliff. Opal joined him, scanning the city for threats rather than admiring it. After several minutes of observing Gorald, Lindisfarne opened the back door of the Armada, Opal getting in the driver's seat and starting the engine. Lindisfarne was still staring at the city as he travelled to Gorald University, passing through its busy streets, Opal driving the Armada with the strength of a lion but with the grace of a ballerina.

In about half an hour, they arrived at the university, the students there to cheer him on. He calmly but quickly exited the car, and started shaking the hands of the students on his way into the university. So young, so intelligent. He smiled. He proceeded into the university, Opal scanning around the area for threats as she had been trained to. She blushed whenever one of the students greeted her, but greeted them back. Opal seemed to hate attention. Probably because all that attention was focused on her body rather than her intellect, thought Lindisfarne silently to himself.

Lindisfarne was guided into the university's main hall by Opal, through glass doors. It was a modern university, the pride of the Alstian education system. People get in because of merit, not wealth or anything else. That had always been the case in the Socialist Republic ever since its foundation in nineteen hundred. Awaiting him in the main hall was a middle-aged man dressed smart casual. The chancellor of the university, Albert Laughton, one of Alstion's greatest academics.

"Ah, Mister President, it is so-" he was cut off by Opal suddenly firing a bullet at one of the crowd members, a student with messy black hair, who dodged the bullet, jumped over the barricades and sprinted towards the President with a breadknife in his hand. Opal fired a 9mm bullet at his chest, but before the bullets were able to pierce through his back, he tossed the knife at the President about a metre away from him.

The President froze in shock. The knife flew towards him, and he screamed as it struck through his chest, into his heart. After the knife created an extremely deep gash in his heart, it fell out, deep red blood pouring out of the wound. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He collapsed sideways, slumping onto the marble floor of the hall, his blood streaming down it. He looked upward. The student was taken down by Opal, her having shot him twice in the head when he was taken down by the bullets which shot through his back. Opal ran towards Lindisfarne, and kneeled down beside him, taking off her suit jacket and placing it on the wound in a vain attempt to stop further blood escaping. He smiled weakly at her, and touched her soft cheek. A moment later, he closed his eyes, never again to open them.

Opal looked up to the frightened, silent crowds after checking her principal's pulse. "The President of Alstion is dead."

* * *

Defence Minister Boris Gerald looked at the ATN News report from Gorald University with a smile on his face and a glass of vintage brandy in his hand. Good. The 46-year-old divorcee sat alone on the leather sofa of his apartment, his many medals hanging proudly on the right pocket of the modern Chinese tunic he donned, the tunic he wore everyday. Today, I embrace power. He had blackmailed that student with the threat of military service until he was forty if he didn't assassinate Lindisfarne for him, so that he could embrace power. While it escaped him why the student had killed Lindisfarne in such suicidial fashion, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was the successor to Lindisfarne, since there was no Prime Minister after Joseph York had committed suicide for unknown reasons and, in the Alstian cabinet; the defence minister was always the 'third-in-commander'. He had been scheduled to be promoted to Prime Minister soon, but he couldn't let Lindisfarne continue the Fitzgerald Reforms and possibly end socialism in the country, which would be an absolute disaster as proved by the century of a democratic capitalist monarchy which had destroyed the nation, and raped it for about twelve centuries beforehand, not that they had founded the nation; with the inspiration of a plutocratic republican form of state - who’s name was unknown to this day - which existed for ten years before monarchists took over, Alfred Julius founded the country in 800 AD. The monarchy wasn't much better. He shuddered at the thought of another Great Oppression occurring.

His bodyguard, Mark Antony, knocked on his apartment door in a matter of minutes and took his principal out of there to his piano black Armada, which he quickly started. He drove through the streets practically at the speed of light, breaking the speed limit numerous times. He was driving straight towards the Gorald Governmental Offices, where it was certain Boris Gerald would be sworn in as the new President of Alstion.

* * *

President Boris Gerald closed his eyes and daydreamed as the cosmetics girl carefully put on the make-up on the new Commander-in-Chief's strong, handsome face. His eyelids shun away his profound grey eyes, his black goatee greying along with his dark hair. Finally. Gerald would finally get his chance to govern in his own fashion. This country needed an iron fist dictator to save it from plunging down a bottomless hole never to return, to hold the country together and save it from drifting to far right on the political spectrum, towards capitalism or, at worst, fascism. Gerald knew he was that man, that man who had to bring back the old pratices of outlawing all religion and stop democratic reforms which would probably lead to a fascist Alstion, ruled by the same type of bastard who had murdered his son.

"All done, Minist-I mean Mister President," smiled the make-up artist. Gerald shared a light-hearted laugh with her over the mistake. Mark Antony escorted him out of the room in a hurry, towards the television cameras from which he would be delivering his first speech as President.

"Cameras on in ten, nine, eight, seven-" said one of the cameraman as Gerald quickly took his seat on the Presidential Desk.

"Live!"

Gerald was silent for a moment, still wearing his modern Chinese tunic and assorted trousers and boots. "Fellow Alstians, I am sure we all know of today's news. President Lindisfarne has been assassinated by a rabid student terrorist, leaving our country in turmoil. Lindisfarne was a great man, and I declare today a day to mourn his loss. However, he would not want our country to remain leaderless and stutter into anarchic chaos; tomorrow, I was supposed to be confirmed as Acting Prime Minister. Today, however, I have been forced into the position of President thanks to terrorism."

"Fellow Alstians, I am your new President. And I feel I must outline what I will do to curb terrorism in our country," he paused for a moment for effect. "We believe that the student may have belonged to the largest and only religious group in our country, the Presbyterian Church of Alstion, and was a member of the Presbyterian Revolutionary Militia, a fundamentalist Christian terrorist group. The Church only has a thousand followers according to the last census, and the PRM a quarter of that number. In order to curb these terrorist actions which we are certain the Church sponsered, I are ordering the immediate prohibition of religion in our country. All churches will be closed down forever more."

Besides, the populace hated those Christians.

"Actions against other terrorist groups, like the National Socialist Front, will be taken as well. Fascism and other 'right wing' ideologies are now forbidden under state law. Our military's funding will be increased greatly as well so as to protect our great country further."

"For now, I must bid you good evening, for I have important business to attend to. Forever to strive together towards prosperity."

The cameras were turned off. The population would like that news, considering the extremist views among most of them. The Socialist Republic of Alstion was now under the control of a military dictator. Though none of the tiny part of the population whom would see that would live to see the world in seven days.

((OOC: No invasions! You can send in a spy if you like, but no invasions! Seriously, just do diplomacy and intelligence roleplaying, I will ignore anybody who announces he/she's invading Alstion, no matter how good or bad a roleplayer he/she is.))

Somewhere in the New British Shores Intelligence service's HQ

"You know our stance on Dicators Agent Bauer" The Director said grimly as he slid Bauer a folder. Inside it contained suspicions and reports from analysts about the new president in Alstion.
"I do sir, you suspect the new guy in Alstion is a potaintial one?" Bauer asked.
"Indeed we do" The Director replied "However, we can't prove it, so that rules an invasion out, that's why were sending you in"
Bauer nodded "My mission?"
"We want you to infiltrate the Government, find out what you can, and if ordered to, assassinate the new president" The Director replied "Remember, if you are captured or killed, we'll disavow all knowledge of you or your mission"
Bauer nodded "Sounds like mission Difficult" He smiled slightly.
"Lets hope it's not mission impossible, dismissed"

Passenger Aircraft, landng in Alstion's main airport

Bauer smiled at the attractive female flight attendant as he walked past her and out onto the walkway, he caught a glimspe of her return smile as she headed back into the plane. His support team back home had gotten him a job interview as a government employye in the country and it was time he headed to it (OOC: Hope you don't mind). Once outside the terminal building he caught a taxi into the Capital towards his destination.

Gorald Foreign Offices were a collection of office buildings in the north-eastern corner of the capital, which was, like the rest of the city, drenched in sunlit skies, especially in the summer. A cool wind had been flowing through the city for the majority of today, keeping the temperature at a cool twenty-five degrees celsius. Awaiting Mister Bauer was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Domovoi Kobold, an intelligent man who had been cursed with short stature. Unlike many countries, it was Alstian custom for the head of a government office to greet several of their new employees each week, usually about seven choosen at random ballot in the Foreign Ministry. Bauer was this week's last, and was a regular office bureaucrat - or, as they preffered to be called, civil servants - like most of the people working at the Offices. Kobold was sipping vintage whiskey from Lourthshire just infront of the entrance to the Offices, two attractive female guards in military uniform on each side of him were holding the automatic rifle by the name of the Anakasha, the Alstian copy of the Kalishnikov.

He sipped the whiskey, his grey eyes staring onto the road, in which a small black taxi crept up it. He guessed this would have been Bauer - now the first New British Alstians under a new law which prohibited foreigners from working in Alstion completely - and walked up to the taxi's front door and payed the fee for Bauer. With Bauer out on the pavement and the taxi gone, Kobold greeted him, ignoring the Alstian greeting of a hug and just offering the man a friendly handshake.

"Welcome, Mister Bauer, to the Gorald Foreign Offices," he smiled charmingly. "I am Foreign Minister Domovoi Kobold. Congrats on your new job in the Offices, and I hope you enjoy it much. Your fellow workers at your office have prepared a little celebration for joining the workforce. A bottle of champagne awaits you I am told, and your first day will be tomorrow, nine to five."

"Welcome to the Socialist Republic, my friend."

We'll need several more checks on this fellow. Probably twelve dozen.

"Thank you Minister" Bauer smiled shaking the offered hand "It's good to be here"
Bauer cast a glance up at the building, but at the same time discretly taking a look at armed guards at the front.
"Good looking building" Bauer commented as they walked towards the building

"Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it?" spoke Domovoi while walking with him, the two bodyguards on either side of them. "Most of these buildings are quite modern, constructed in the early nineteen eighties, though several of them - such as the Minister's Office - date back to the monarchistic times of the nineteenth century. The Office was stormed by revolutionary forces in July of nineteen hundred, and was so beautifully crafted it wasn't destroyed. That is why it stands today. Despite being evil tyrants, the monarchy prized architecture like modern Alstion treasures literature and classical and world music."

Domovoi downed the last of his whiskey, the guards falling behind them. The Foreign Minister stopped outside one of the offices, this particular one particularly small. He gestured towards it. "Mister Bauer, this is your office. A celebration awaits, though expect no religious events. Goodbye."

Domovoi walked away with his two guards, though one of the guards - an attractive brunette - winked at Bauer when the minister wasn't looking.

Bauer was able to flash a discrete wink and smile back before the guard turned back to follow the minister. He quickly analysed his entry, he'd gotten in without being killed, always a plus. He knew he'd liekly to be subject to more enhanced tests as he was a outsider. He also thought about the brunette, and wondered if he could use that, or any other attention from female to his advantage, or if he could use it as 'Recreation'. Regardless it was time to step through the door.

Bauer rested his hand on the office handle and opened the door and stepped inside.

If he's a spy, he'll play dumb. That's what they do, thought the manager of this particular office, Henry Lorth, looking at the only New British Alstian man by the name of Bauer open the door and enter the lobby of the office. A bottle of champagne was cracked open behind him, and Lorth did smile as soon as he entered. The average-sized, moderately overweight Lorth walked over to Bauer and offered him a handshake, which was a Alstian standard custom when greeting foreigners. After all, in the Western culture of the New British Shores, hugging a person of the same gender might not be viewed as just a friendly greeting.

"Hello, Mister Bauer, and welcome to your new workplace. I am Mister Henry Lorth, the head of this office, and I hope you enjoy the champagne," he smiled charismaticaly at Bauer.

Lorth grabbed a glass of the champagne for himself and one for Bauer, handing one of them to Bauer. The champagne was clearly expensive, probably from the Offices' vintage collection. It bubbled in the glass merrily. A glance at the bottle revealed it was 'Jeffrey Williams Vintage Collection of Alstian Champagne.' The fellow office workers were drinking and all of them greeted Bauer cheerfully, welcoming him to the office and that, inviting him to dinner and so on. Making him feel welcome.

Bauer smiled as he entered the office, and he was soon employing his Charasmatic skills ont he other workers. One of the reasons he'd been employed by the Intelligence service was that he could easily socialise with people he may end up betraying. As he talked to the workers he made a mental note of each of the people, their personnality and what they looked like.

Lorth watched the simpleton observantly, sipping his champagne calmly. This peasent - the name Bauer descended from the German word for peasent -absorbing his workers with his charismatic nature, Lorth proud he had not been encanted by the man's spell. He returned to his workplace hopefully without being noticed by the imbeciles out there, and closed the door, the office's white walls staring at him, as if asking him a question of importance.

He sighed and sipped the champagne glass. He knew the foreigners wouldn't like the new dictator. Lorth knew that the regime wouldn't last long, for the people of Alstion were not that idiotic. He knew a few men and women who govern this beautiful country well, and they were not closet communists like the new president. Still, Lorth knew he had to send a report on Bauer directly to Boris Gerald, for special attention was being given to this foreigner. Alstion had been isolated completely from the outside world for over a century, following the international embargo placed on it following the Socialist Revolution.

He sighed again, typed it up quickly and sent it to Gerald. It was quite short.

Bauer has been showing charismatic traits and high intelligence. He has entranced the majority of the workers and has expressed the opposite of the usual habits of intelligence officers, which brings me to my conclusion; it appears that Bauer is either a one of the most faltering 'spies' I have ever encountered or is, truthfully, an intelligent immigrant who wishes nothing more to work for our Ministry. Mister President, if I may make a recommendation, I would believe the last to be highly unlikely.

Bauer didn't miss the head of the office move over to a computer console, he could plainly see that this man would be the initial major threat to his mission. As he flirted lightly with an attractive red head his mind was working as he decided what to do. He knew it was unlikely that he could kill the man without the Government immediatly killing bauer in return, so that was out of the picture. Clearly he'd have to think of another way to neautralise the threat.