NationStates Jolt Archive

The massive warehouse is a buzz of activity. A stage stands to the far side, dusty spotlights casting a ruddy glow on preceedings. Thick, discoloured curtains obscure activity, the spotlights centred in the middle. A large crowd has gathered, and an air of excitement hangs.

Many Empires and nations are in attendance, for this highly unusual auction. Not a devestating new weapon, nor an amazing advancement in science or medicine. Something altogether more sought after than all these things combined.

The underwear of the Dread Lady Nathicana herself.

Activity cuts the low mutterings from the crowd. The Stage curtains ruffle, and they part slightly. A single male human steps forward, edging to the microphone connected to a stand in front. He is dressed in a black suit, with contrasting white shirt and tie. His hair is gelled back to form a parting style not amiss in the nineteen thirties. Clearing his throat, he speaks up.

Ladies and gentleman, the Serene^Union is very, very happy to greet you all here tonight first and foremost. Some of you have travelled light years, others a few short minutes. A special shout-out to Xanathal, who journeyed all the way from the Andromeda galaxy, anf took all of four hours to reach us!"

"I'm aware time is precious, so we'll get right to business. Each of you, or the group you represent have paid a fee already to be merely a part of this auction. This is where your chance beckons. You find yourself now in the position to own a personal item of one of the most sought after ladies within Nationstates. She is undoubtedly the hushed desire of many a antional leader, and the dirtied, stained picture of lust of many a teenage bedroom within our cities. Now, you can exclusively join the latter!"

A small glass case is carried onstage, sorrounding it stand two Uberlarge bodyguards, each sporting graphically crude and sexist T-shirts. Each holds a ridiculously high powered weapon, and pointly knifes.

Within the case, lies the prized posession. A bright red thong.

"Ladies and gentleman, I will hear bids now! There is a reserve price on this item, and becuase we currently own it, we won't be telling you what that is. Note that any bidders under eighteen will be the victim of a "Milk tax" of at least twenty percent."



The room erupted, voices clamering to be heard.



[OOC: Some IRC related madness. If no one bids, I get to keep em!]

Hrm... I'm sure the Dread Lady will want that back. Here's five bucks... lessee...

Add in shipping back to the Dominion...

Ouch. Well, there goes my stipend.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

"They're auctioning what?!?"

"I ah ... well so they claim ... I mean ... are they?" Else arches a brow, looking at Nathicana curiously, wincing slightly as the Dread Lady cuts loose with a stream of expletives suitable for any longshoreman on leave after months at sea, and guaranteed to peel paint from sheer vehemence alone.

"Last time I saw those I had them tucked away safely on my boat ... those bastards down at the marine are going to pay dearly for this one. Panty auction? Jesu Christo, what next? I want this looked into, Else. Get me Marik," she says, her blue eyes flashing.

As for the dear boy from Scolopendra ... lets see now. Transfer funds here, through there ... yes, yes ... contact her ... and him there ... and we should be able to manage just fine.



My dear boy, since you have taken it upon yourself to attempt such a decent thing, you should now find in your accounts sufficient funds to aid your efforts. I'm certain you'll know what to do with them, honorable sort that you are. In addition, we will be compensating you for your time and effort, with a healthy bonus should you succeed.

Best of luck.

Right. This is too kinky for me.*Mysteriously fades away*

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kûk‡xenisi n!ok‡x'osi xno-k‡xek‡emi.-The state only exists to serve itself.
"Oppose excessive military spending, yet believe in excessive spending on junk food and plastic surgery to make all your women look like LARDASSES!"-Sino, when I criticized excessive military spending.
http://www.sulucas.com/images/steatopygia.jpg
I'm male. Note the pic of attractive women.

My dear boy, since you have taken it upon yourself to attempt such a decent thing, you should now find in your accounts sufficient funds to aid your efforts. I'm certain you'll know what to do with them, honorable sort that you are. In addition, we will be compensating you for your time and effort, with a healthy bonus should you succeed.

Best of luck.Cadet Bondayehr checks the number attached to his accounts. Twice. He counts the zeroes. Three times. Oi, that's a lot of zeroes... this is what I get for being nice for no reason... okay... lessee... this is how much I had before and that's what was added... ferry that away there so I don't touch it except for the express purpose of the auction... okay then.

Looking over his shoulder, he calls across the apartment to his roommate. "Hey, dinner's on me tonight!"

Local Stonozka Branch Three
Office of Federal Taxation (Directly reporting to PseudoEmperor Razak)

A minor civil servant in charge of audits opens up his electronic mail and scans the list. Mostly more internal banter, tax collector jokes, and some heuristic computational analyses that spit out probable tax evaders. More busywork... except... what's this? One from an educational address, U of Stonozka, actually? Opening it up, he scans again.

"Okay... large sum of money from an unknown source to be used for a project already underway... wait a minute."

He actually reads the message. Seeing the project, he blinks. "Odd... but nice... I guess. Quixotic, really."

Then he sees the number. Silent, he stretches out his arm and activates his desk communicator. "Boss, we've got a 'curious' issue."

* - * - *

Detachment 702 (University of Stonozka)
Training Command, Scolopendran Aerospace Directorate

"Enter."

The door opens to insert Cadet Bondayehr, who closes it quickly then stalks to the regulation six paces in front of the seated officer before snapping to attention.

Salute. "Ma'am, Cadet Bondayehr reports to make a statement."

Colonel Smith returns the salute, leaning back as Bondayehr remains at attention. "Sit at ease, Cadet Bondayehr... now, what's this all about? You know you can just come in, no need to be official."

"I think this qualifies, ma'am." Bondayehr sits down, smiling wryly. "You'll agree. You see, I was checking the YutLink when I saw something from Kaenei..."

"I think I know what you're talking about, Cadet." Smith arches an eyebrow. "What do you have to do with it?"

"Well... in order to retrieve our ally's rightful property, I put in a 'statement of intent' bid. After checking on shipping prices to the Dominion, it should take up most of my stipend from last month. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

The colonel cants her head. "And I thought I'd heard everything. Normally I'd... frown upon involvement in such a thing... but I can't fault you for trying to do the right thing."

"Thank you, ma'am, but that's not the issue at the moment. After I did this, I received a donation to my cause."

"How much?"

Bondayehr breathes in and quotes a number.

Colonel Smith blinks. "That is quite a bit, Cadet Bondayehr."

"That it is, ma'am. It's why I'm bringing it up; I think it's best if I be transparent and tell you. I know that large 'donations' from peoples unknown is generally frowned upon to anyone, especially officers, and I want to ensure that I can just get this over with and move on after returning whatever sum is not used in the auction."

"So... are you saying you're being bribed, Cadet Bondayehr?"

The cadet winces. "No, ma'am. I'm saying it looks like I might be being bribed... although why anyone would bribe a cadet is beyond me. I fully expect the IG to get involved with this, but I think it's the right thing to do to come in and let you know."

Smith sighs. "Agreed on 'why anyone would bribe a cadet...' I want you to send me this message and a statement from your bank; I'll send this up the line through the Training Command until we hit someone who does something about it... but, given the fact it's the Dread Lady..."

"I understand, ma'am." Bondayehr wishes that his mouth wasn't quite so dry. "But I've nothing to hide and as far as I know this isn't against any regs. It may skirt near 'conduct unbecoming' except for my intent."

"Well... good luck, Cadet." A moment of silence passes.

"Will that be all, ma'am?"

"Yes, Cadet Bondayehr."

Standing up, Bondayehr snaps back to attention and salutes. "Good afternoon, ma'am." Salute returned, the cadet pivots on his feet in a standard facing movement and stalks back out the door as quickly as is appropriate.

As the door shuts behind him, Colonel Smith sighs. "Oh, that Bondayehr. You never know what he'll come up with next..."

A dozen heavily armoured men in black-and-silver uniforms burst into the room, ugly rifles with excitingly advanced technology held at the ready. The leader barks, "All right, hands up! This is a raid!"

Then a short, undefinably ugly man saunters into the room behind them. "That'll be all, gentlemen. Sorry I'm late. It seems my invitation got lost in the mail. Who do I pay for the entrance fee?"

*A man in a long Raincoat and a 1930's era hat approaches the auctioneer*

"I'd like an estimate on these-

http://www2.victoriassecret.com/images/prodpri/V121522.jpg

Empress Nordlund's panties... and it BETTER BE OVER 8 DIGITS! I went through HELL to get them..."

CEO Kargaah sits in an aisle seat, and has silver literally poking out of his pockets. He raises a hand and makes a bid of 10,000 Teeth.

"The material will make an excellent flag for my headquarters."

"So Lord Zagoth, let me get this straight. you intend to clone an army of Dread Ladies from the skin cels left in her underwear?!" Zagoth didnt answer, his silence told Ashford he was correct. "Are you sure thats the only reason you want them?" Ashford gave a sly grin, rather out of character for his usual quiet deminor. He immediatly regreted it, as Zagoth would probably have gutted him alive in their own nation, but he felt a bit more free to act as he wanted in this place. This whole thing was a bit embaressing, and Ashford's cheeks had a slight blush to them, Zagoth however was as pale and perfect as usual. Ashford's odd yellow eyes glinted as he pushed up his glasses. "A shame we cant find out the reserve price, though I trust "you know who" is giving us funds as well, we cant lose with two nations supporting us!" An angry glare from his master told Ashford he had said too much, and should be quiet immediatly.

Three large muscular soldiers slung their rifles and tackled the man in the raincoat. The Empress, dressed in the finest jeans, with tassles hanging off the legs, strode up, grabbed her panties and shoved them in her pocket. She dealt the man one swift kick in the nuts, and gracefully away.

Three large muscular soldiers slung their rifles and tackled the man in the raincoat. The Empress, dressed in the finest jeans, with tassles hanging off the legs, strode up, grabbed her panties and shoved them in her pocket. She dealt the man one swift kick in the nuts, and gracefully away.

Once again pushing up his glasses, Ashford gave a light, cruel chuckle. "That gives me an idea. What if we were to auction a pair of the Prince's here, saying they belonged to one of the noble ladies of the court. When the truth slipped out, the buyer would likely become furious, and begin anti-Buri sentiment. Buri's popularity would drop, and the boy may even be assasinated!" Zagoth reached into his robe and produced a small pair of blue silk undies. "Well well Ashford, perhaps you do think faster than some lower animal species." The rude tone slightly angered Ashford, but he was happy to recieve even such a cruel compliment from his master. Without another word, Zagoth approuched the auctioner, his hair band slipping away as if on cue, his long brown hair now masking his identity. "I would like to put these up at a starting bid of five million, they belong to Lady Zendrik of the Sapheria court, Im sure you can see the quality even from here."

A rather large man, dressed to the nines in the finest clothing available on Titan stands.

Over the din he shouts.
"100,000 dollars"
He grins broadly, staring at other bidders, almost daring them to bid against him.

OOC: Maybe being awake at 6:00am (from yesterday I might add) has affected me in a deterimental way, or maybe my warped sense of humour has drawn my attnention to this, eitherway I really to like the idea of this thread, so without further ado...

tag

Cadet Bondayehr returns to his "Apartment of Überness" just next to the campus and checks how the auction is going. Thank goodness for two things... long-distance bidding and the fluid nature of time in the multiverse.

Oh, smeg. Kargaah is involved and he has more money than God... damn, how much is teeth in dollars? I'm not going to take that long-haired freak as a credible threat despite his bid; if I keep silent for the moment that'll keep this from getting too high... I don't know whether the donation qualifies as a cap or a starter, so I'll assume cap.

Sheesh... The cadet rolls his eyes. This is a sad commentary, really. People spending thousands and millions on some fragging undergarments. Fools are so hot to jump into the Dread Lady's pants that they'll spend horrendous amounts of other people's work to buy the vicarious experience...

I'll just keep quiet for now. No one will be taking me as a serious threat yet, so it's best not to show myself to be one.

Advisor Hawke's Desk
Executive Apartments, Stonozka

News travels quickly, especially when it concerns large amounts of money being dedicated to odd crusades.

"Talk to me, General." Hawke looks as he usually does, which is irritably grim.

The Inspector General on the other end of the line, a major general by his bracketed hexagons, smirks. "Sounds weird, doesn't it... but I can't see any wrongdoing on our side. The cadet puts in a long-distance bid, then gets contacted by someone with connections. He's got the money, but he's done nothing to it except set it aside apart from his own funds. If he was being bribed or planned on doing anything silly, he'd have done it by now."

"Still, I'd like to talk to him in person. Do you have all the information?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Send it to me; I'd like to run this 'someone' by Garbo on a hunch. Normally I'd just have someone order the cadet to get uninvolved, but I think this will help sustain our 'goody-goody' image. Can't hurt, especially seeing how there's no taxpayer money going towards it."

"Acting, sir." The communicator line goes dead just as a familiar medium-brown face with gently glowing eyes peeks around the side of the cubicle door. "Hey, Lance, have you heard about the cadet?"

"Yes, Alshai." Hawke simply couldn't bring himself to call the Angelan 'Bob,' not yet at least. "What's your angle?"

"He contacted the tax people too, apparently for C.Y.A. purposes. They figured because Nathi's a foreign power, it's in my court. So, what do we do? He's your cadet, after all."

Hawke leans back, folding his arms. "I was planning on calling him down here to give us the spiel in his own words. I expect it to hash out, really, but no need to let him know that. Then we can make a decision from there."

"True." Kommetrez smirks. "I just hope we don't put him off being helpful to total strangers."

* - * - *

Bondayehr checks his electronic mail. Quickly checking through the academic and cadet related materials, he finds one that is apparently from the Foot-to-Ass Advisor himself.

As it turns out, it is.

Well, hell. This is almost enough to put me off being helpful to total strangers.

The Kaeneian on stage takes note of the well dressed male, and his ears almost burn as money is bid.

"We have one hundred thousand! A pathetic sum of money for such a treasure, and no where near enough to seal the deal. But I welcome the stranger and his bravado. Thus the auction begins now. Starting bid placed, I'll hear challenges!"

The underwear is taken from the stage, and to a secure location of unpenetrable security.

"I can also reveal that we are actively seeking and are willing to look at the underwear of national leaders. Respectfully, we remind that any stains not added by the original owners in question will dimish auction value."

A loud *WHIFF* sound is heard eminating from the nostrils of Kargaah. "100,000? Ludicrous. I will up my bid to 175,000 in standard currency!"

He lights up a huge, stinky cigar and clamps it between his teeth. His jaw is set firm, and he eyes the contesting bidders with a look of mischief.

A man representing the Eurydian Republic was notified of the bidding and rushed hurriedly to the Auction House.

“Your name, sir?” The man outside of the Warehouse looked skeptically at the old man.

“What do you need my name for?”

“Well, we need to know who is bidding.”

The man nodded, “Very well then. My name is Lord Baron.”

The guard looked quizzically to the man, “Your name sir, not your frivolous title.”

“My name is Lord Baron.”

“Lord Baron’s” response failed to wipe the confused look from the guards face, “So your first name is Lord and your last name is Baron?”

“No, no. My first name is Baron.”

“So then Lord is your title?”

Baron nodded, “That’s correct.”

The guard frowned, “So then you admit to giving me a title as your real name. You sir, lied to me.”

“What?” Baron said, slightly taken aback, “I would do nothing of the sort. I was just confused that’s all.”

The guard rolled his eyes, “Right. Your last name sir?”

Baron eyed the man shrewdly, “Isn’t Baron enough? I hate giving out my last name.”

“I’m terribly sorry sir, I must have your last name.”

“Pervert.” ( It's really pronounced "pervai," but most will say pervert)

“Could you spell that for me please?”

Baron sighed, “P-e-r-v-e-r-t.”

The guard looked up to Baron, “Pervert?” he chuckled slightly.

Baron snatched the nametag and rushed inside.

Within the Warehouse

Baron looked to the highest bid and scoffed, “175,000 is a paltry number compared to what I am willing to spend. I, Lord Baron Pervert, bid 200,000 dollars!”

Acompanied by half a dozen of fluently dutch speaking mountain goats and other notorious cattle,
the Empyreal Enigma's representative Lukas Nietzsche exits his way-to-huge subaquatic vehicle and furosiously starts handing out flyers for the Enigma's anual salmon sale on february 2nd.

Treznor stands forward. "Before I present my bid, I'd like some...assurances that the item in question is, in fact, from the boudoir of the Dread Lady Nathicana. I propose that it be inspected by an expert witness."

The Kaeneian, known only as Daniel contemplated for a moment, his left hand stroking the fine stubble that adorned his chin. After a moment, he spoke-

"And who would you have as an expert witness? One of your own? This wouldn't sit well with myself at all. And even if you yourself would be allowed to see such a thing, were you to attempt a theft, it would be considered an act of war against the Serene^Union."

Daniel broke into a smile.

"DNA testing has...shall we say confirmed that his item of underwear belongs to the dread lady herself, if you wish further clarification, we will do our best to accomodate you, within reason. The current bid now stands at one hundred seventy five thousand, still a ridiclously low sum."

The current bid now stands at one hundred seventy five thousand, still a ridiclously low sum."

"I beg your pardon?" Baron Pervet said, raising his hand, "I bid 200,000 dollars just a moment ago. Perhaps you missed it. Unless of course my bid isn't accepted."

"The Bid from Pervert is accepted, and now stands at two hundred thousand."

Edited for double post. I checked for it, too.

Treznor scowls at Daniel. "I take offense at the suggestion of theft. I have no need to steal such a thing. I merely point out that I wish to verify the claims that this item once belonged to the Dread Lady. Unless you can present a more...qualified expert, then I am happy to assume the duty.

"I'm also curious to know where you obtained DNA from the source in order to establish a baseline match for the lingerie. Until I'm satisfied, I suggest that this auction is merely a scam."

i]"Far be it for me to reject an honest attempt at validating what we have here, I'll authorise an audience test, within certain reason, I cannot really object. You may proceed, provided we feel it is appropriate."[/i]

Daniel had the precious glass case taken out front once more, flanked by stereotypical strong men.

A small man in the back is just shaking his head...
200 grand for a pair of used underwear...don't these boys have better things to be doing? He finally speaks up...
"Ah, not to be too noisy about the whole thing gentlemen, but what possible test could be used to dermine the authenticity of these items? I mean besides a signed letter from the Lady herself?"

Treznor stands and walks up to the case. Under the watchful eye of the guards and the audience he dons a pair of latex gloves and lifts the garment from the container. He studies it briefly. "They're the right style and label." He lifts it to his nose. "Smells right." Then he licks a tiny portion of the thong and nods. "Tastes right. Yes, this is the genuine article. I make my bid at two hundred and fifty thousand."

He replaces item and resumes his seat.

The Royal Steward looks on for a moment and then bends his head onto his hand...
Now that was just him boasting, I wonder if he does...likely not, after all why would you buy the damn thing if you could get to the woman inside. He must have a fetish for the Dread Lady...A stalker perhaps...a wealthy stalker

"Maledizione ... oh gods, please tell me he did not just do that ... in public even!" Nathicana put her face down in her hands, then drew them slowly down her face, watching the proceedings and more than a little mortified at the entire affair.

She was now both glad, and regretting that she'd had her watcher smuggle in that camera. She let loose with a long string of expletives in her native tongue, fingernails rapping nervously against the desktop.

"Devon Treznor, you had best hope you either buy those, or that my idealistic little agent does, or so help me god ... I am going to kill you."

Well, so much for anyone who cares to know wondering anymore. I can see it now. 'Yes, as a matter of fact, we are intimately involved, and have been for some time. No, no further questions now, thank you ...' And who the hell sold those off in the first place?

"MARIK!" she said loudly, him poking his head around the corner into her office almost before she'd finished speaking his name.

"We've found someone who seems to fit the profile, Nath. One of your housekeeping folk. He's been receiving deposits from an as yet unnamed source for the past month. They obviously tried to spread it out to avoid notice, but it looks fishy all the same."

She looks up at him, her eyes cold. "I want you to make certain, Marik. Then I want to see him for a little ... chat," she says softly.

"Shall I get the drop cloth?" he asks with a wry grin.

"Shut up, Marik, and go do your damn job."

OOC: Cower now, brief mortals! For, I have returned!... for an hour-a-day for the next nine days. Then I'm off again. Miss me? I missed you...

Now, what am I posting in?... oh yes. :P Vaguely inapropriate...

IC: Balthazar carefully sneaked out of the bedroom. "Got 'em. I've got them!" He turned to the shadowy figure beside him. "Heh-heh... uh-oh."

"My dear Balthazar..." the sybillant hiss could be heard, as if two voices were coming from one mouth. "What were you doing?"

"Um... supplementing my income, your highness?"

"With my wife's underclothes?"

"Ah heh. Ah heh. Ah... don't hurt me."

"Quiet. Is she asleep? Gather half the treasury. You're going to get me those underpants."

"What? Why?"

"So you can sell them to Treznor for his own weight in diamonds."

Blue Office, Imperial Palace
Kaer Askavii, Home District
Imperial Union of Cetaganda, The Ring, Sol System

Gregor Vetinari, Emperor of Cetaganda, ect, ect, snickers as he watches the auction. "I bet someone on Nathi's staff is going to be having fun."

"What, that auction thingy?" replies the person lounging on a couch across the room.

"Yeah. For that matter, I wouldn't want to be Devon Treznor the next time she sees him?"

"What, not going to play knight in shining armor and try to get them back for her?"

"No, some Scolopendran cadet seems to be doing that. Besides," Gregor raises an eyebrow, "the only underwear I'm interested in seeing are yours, preferably somewhere not on you."

"Mmm, I'd oblige you, but last time Lady Mallory walked in here to see you about some big emergency."

Gregor shudders. "Good point. Although...it might be amusing just to bump the price up a bit, and we can always give Nathi's little helper some funds if he can't afford more. Give me a moment to summon a minion."

----
{Live Video Feed}
x Lyle Hermendanof (Minion Fourth Class, Imperial Staff)
o DNL Underwear Auction

A young man who looks to be a teenager looks at the camera. "Ah, um, hi there. I'd, um, like to bid on Lady Nathicanana's, erm, underwear. My lord, do I really have to do this?"

* background laughter* "Don't worry, I'm sure she won't hurt you over a joke."

"Um, yeah. I'm bidding three hundred fifty thousand, um, whatever it is the bids are in."

"What if she doesn't realize its a joke, my lord?"
.
.
.
"He's got you there, Gregor."
"Shush, don't say my name!"
{Transmission Ends}

Somewhere in the world there is a lonely rich young man who has waaay to much time and money on his hands. Unfortunatly, no one gave this little twit of an Adel any sense...

A man standing by a phone raises his hands and says..."I have an anonymous bid of One Million Krondor in gold bullion, ah that's 1.2 million U.S.D sir"

Daniel nods, taking the new bid in from the telelink operator.

"One point two million, for a once in a lifetime oppertunity? Surely I can raise slightly more than that gentleman? Ladies? The hall is rented, the band engaged, its now time to see how many of you here now will dance!"

The crowd noise level rises dramatically, some slink out, a look of irritation evident as their own wealth proves insufficent to allow them another chance at bidding. Others gleefully rub their hands, confident they can take this posession for themselves easily.

<Video uplink>

A worried, middle aged man's face appears on the screen. He licks his lips. "Um... a bid of 1.5 million dollars... anonymous bidder... please, just send them to me... he'll kill me if I fail..."

Another voice speaks. "Shut up!" The first man disapears from view. Painful noises can be heard.

The face reappears. "Forget I said that. 1.5 million dollars."

A woman's voice can be heard. "Alexander, what is Balthazar looking into?"

Muffled swearing. Viewscreen switches into standby mode.

Treznor shakes his head at the sudden jump in price. So much for sanity at the auction. I wonder how long it'll take someone to make a billion-dollar bid?

He raises his hand. "1.6 million."

Baron wasn't quite sure what to do; 1.5 million for a pair of underoos wasn’t very cost effective. Then again, Reamus Kastor wouldn’t accept failure in this endeavor. The man’s fascination with the Dread Lady bordered on… strange.

Baron Pervert raised his hand casually, “2 Million.”

It was unknown who's little tapping of the auction he had broken in on.
A random signal really, after all he was just bored. He had only to have the bank transmit his allowance account balance to show that he had more than enough cash on hand to bid for this item.

The young man, very handsom in his looks, with startling blue eyes and blond hair looked at the screen.

At the man who had licked the panties.

He leaned back from the screen and looked around the libary. It was a bit messy but then the maid wouldn't be in until 8:00 tommorrow. Well the new one, the old one had to leave when he refused to marry the b*** after they fooled around, and he got her into a family way.

Well, should I see if Mr. Lathro is willing to pay for the taste of that woman. If I push this too far I could be left with just the income from the old family trust. We hell I can live on 120,000 Kr a year easily, he had only spent 45 thou last year, well 78 including the staff. Well, lets see how Mr. Lick needs those panties for. I mean hell this is way better than picking up a cheap stolen goods on E-Buy. He leaned forward and typed in a new response

The teletype again announced an anonymous bid of person number 45, of 12.3 million U.S.D.

The Apartment of Überness
University of Stonozka

Cadet Bondayehr adjusts the high tight collar of his Class A's, brushing down the front of the double-breasted lines of the coat with his lint brush and making sure it is tucked properly into his red fabric belt.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea," his roommate grumbles as Bondayehr hands him the lint brush and puts his arms out.

"No you didn't," Timofeyev mutters, standing idly as his roommate helps groom, "you weren't even off break yet."

"Sure I did. Psychically... but you weren't listening."

Bondayehr sighed at the inside joke. "Probably true. How do I look?"

"Scared out of your mind."

"Well, that's true enough." Bondayehr looks down at his polished boots. "Here we go."

Executive Apartments

After stepping off the metro and walking up to the nondescript government building, the cadet checks in with the assault-armored sergeant standing outside the main door.

"Lessee..." A slight pause as the man inside the machine checks a heads-up display. "Yes, Cadet, you're on the list. Carry on."

Walking in, he checks in again with the reception desk and is quickly escorted to the upper floors by Minor Civil Servant Wantanabe. "So, you're our little idealist, eh?"

"Yes, sir." Bondayehr smirks. "If it's not prying, how much trouble am I in?"

Wantanabe grins. "Well, I've been here since the Kommetrez administration and I've never seen a cadet being called to report in. Look at it this way... at least Speaker isn't asking to speak to you."

"Oh Lord," the cadet lets out a nervous laugh, "don't even joke about that. I'm freaked out enough already."

"You'll be fine... Conference Room B."

Timofeyev nods, sighs in preparation, then knocks twice on the door. A muffled "Enter!" echoes from inside; the cadet opens the door, steps in, and closes it. As he walks to the 'hot spot' in front of the conference table, he notes who sits at the table without breaking his bearing. The well-known and mildly serious face of Alshai Kommetrez, top International Relations man; the hard grimness of Lance Hawke, head of the Foot-to-Ass Section; and finally the Asian features of chief spook Janus Garbo, grinning jovially under his eternally fluffy Afro. The cadet halts, comes to attention, and salutes to Hawke.

"Sir, Cadet Bondayehr reports to make a statement." His salute returned, Bondayehr drops his, standing at attention.

"We've already been briefed on your recent project, Cadet," Hawke growls, "but we want to hear it in your own words."

"Yes, sir. I am currently attempting to purchase the underwear of our ally, the Dread Lady D'Aquisto, in order to send them back to her."

"Cadet," Kommetrez leans forward, speaking mildly, "why are you doing this? I'm sure you understand that because it is an international relation, it is arguably under my jurisdiction and not a military operation."

"Sir, it was never intended as a military operation. It was taken up as a personal endeavour because, certainly, such an item is extremely personal and I felt it would be best that it does not fall into the hands of someone less than savory, sir. My original intent was to simply make a statement, but, now that I have the... resources to accomplish this, I plan on being successful." Bondayehr concentrates on the blue eye of the centipede on the flag behind the conference table, keeping his bearing."

"Cadet Bondayehr," Garbo says cheerfully with a mischevious light, "where do these resources come from?"

"Sir, I do not know. Other than the attached statement from an anonymous beneficiary, I do not know anything else... Sir, may I make a statement?"

"Go ahead."

"If wrongdoing on my part is the issue, I can provide access to my accounts so the Inspector General or whatever proper authority can monitor its use."

Garbo chuckles. "That probably will not be necessary."

Bondayehr pauses for a moment. "Sir, may I ask a question?"

Garbo grins. "Of course, Cadet."

"Do you know where the resources come from, sir?"

Garbo chuckles and leans back. "What makes you think that?"

"Sir, you are the Intelligence Advisor. My actions would obviously be of interest to the International Relations and Foot-to-Ass Sections, but the identity of the sponsor would be your interest, sir. You probably know who the sponsor is, sir, for you have the resources of the Intelligence Section."

Advisor Garbo grins and nods. "Yes, I do. Your sponsor has left quite the trail to follow, but I do know its source." He looks over to the other advisors. "It's my professional opinion that you've nothing to worry about. It's not 'in the clear,' but it's certainly benign."

"At rest, Cadet." Hawke sounds almost... pleased. "See, I told you he'd do my old Aerospace Directorate proud."

Bondayehr makes no attempt to hide his sigh of relief, eliciting chuckles from the assembled advisors. "Glad to please, sir. Shall I report out now, or..."

"No need," Advisor Kommetrez stands, "we're going to look after you, and a good way. Call it the V.I.P. tour of the Apartments."

"Besides," Hawke grins in a friendly near-human manner, "we can't keep you from your task."

* - * - *

Bondayehr always got stuck with computer duty. When the Major General comes around, who runs his slides? Bondayehr. Who did teachers deputize for computer duties? Bondayehr. Always Bondayehr if it had something to do with complex computers.

So having most of the upper government of Scolopendra look over his shoulder for his remote bidding was... not surprising. Not calming, either, but not surprising.

"Oi, up to twelve million. I'm going to stick to my strategy of just being quiet; hopefully it won't go up too much."

"You've still got a sufficient buffer, though," Kommetrez points out.

"Ya, but if I come out as a threat, the cost will rise faster. Pardon me, sir..."

"Which sir?" Razak chuckles, folding his arms.

"Advisor Garbo... could you please contact my sponsor and tell him... her... it that I apologize but more funds may be in order?"

"Sure thing, Thought-Cadet."

"Pardon, sir?"

"Never mind... very obscure joke. I'll get right on it."

"Hrm... I need to at least make the attempt." Bondayehr grimaces. "Well, here I go."

* - * - *

Thanks to the graces of an unnamed donor, I've found my budget for this increased. Twelve point four million dollars says that they go back to their rightful owner.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

Pervert rubbed his temples. He knew this was going to become completely absurd at any moment. What started as a five-dollar bid had escalated into a multi million dollar bidding war. He nervously started rubbing his short beard. He wondered if he should wait and see how high the bidding would go.

Baron listened to the Scolopendran cadet's statement. Rightful owner? This boy and his holier than thou attitude is making me sick. The Dread Lady lost a pair of underoos, so what? If they fell into the auctioneer’s hands obviously they weren’t of much concern to the Dread Lady. Unless of course… they were stolen. Best not to ask.

“12.5 million dollars,” Lord Baron raised his hand once more. He added under his breath, “More than I’ll make in 5 years.”

Kargaah pays mind to the bids as it becomes fast and furious, and makes mental notes on the bidders. This is where the hatchlings are separated from the warriors. He stands and raises a clawed hand.

"12.6 million standard."

Bondayehr thinks about Sakkrans. He then thinks about humans.

Try as he might--especially after living with them for a semester--he can't put the two together, and he's got a pretty good imagination.

* - * - *

Twelve-point-six-five million.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

Baron sighs, "Soon I'll need to get in touch with Reamus. Until then..." He raises his hand and his voice, "...12.7 million."

The young man wandered back in with a beer. He heard the Wog bid 12.5 million.
Well, someone wants it bad. I wonder if he's trying to do the same thing I am...hmmm...Well if I'm burning cash then lets burn some cash...but more effectively than this...

He wandered over to a portrait. It was supposed to be his great-great grandfather, but he doubted that very much. He swung the picture back for a moment and stared at something. Then let the picture swing back into place as he sat down and made a phone call...

"Hello, Byron and Lords..."
"Yes, This is Lord Mancraft...Yes..."
"I would like a special order..."
"Ah yes, here is what I would like..."

"You're a tease, do you know that, Cadet?" Razak chuckles.

"It keeps the increments small, sir. Not like I'm an expert or anything."

* - * - *

Twelve-point-seven-two-five million standard dollars.

--C/3C Bondayehr

Yes, give me a good run for my money. Kargaah chomps on his cigar, twisting it with his teeth. "12.8 mill standard."

This cadet is a wise man indeed. He's managed to keep some of the more liberal spenders reigned in.

Baron smiles and addresses the Scolopendran, "My compliments to you on your bidding style. You're wiser than most of us here." He smiles, raising his hand once more, "12.9 million."

OOC: Don't really know if I can address your cadet... just thought I'd give it a whirl. :wink:

Edit: changed to 12.9 million

This is kinda fun. Bondayehr clicks "Transmit" again.

* - * - *

Thank you, sir. Twelve-point-nine-zero-zero-zero-zero-one million.

-- C/3C Bondayehr

With the wealth of a mega-corp behind me, I will not fail. I have plans ..... deeeevious plans! "Mwah ha! Mwah ha ha ha ha! Oh! Hrrrmmmm....13 mill standard."

This time Baron raises an eyebrow, "12.900001 million?" He shakes his head and chuckles, "At least the Sakkran has some nerve."

"13.5 million."

Well this isn't good.
He already had a few pairs from the associated female leaders, ones he gained through less than legal means.
Oh well, not like I'm actually paying for it.
"14 Mil."

One dollar is, of course, sufficient, sir. Still, if nerve is what you wish, nerve is what you shall have.

Fourteen-point-one million.

-- C/3C Bondayehr

"The hunt is on! 14.2 million standard!" Kargaah begins to get excited, and it shows in his fully-raised crest.

(OOC: It's my little peice of s*** Adel who's to blame for the current price...well I think 250 grand is a bit much but...fools and money are soon parted. Fools with more damn money than some small nations cause headaches...)

The Royal Steward was still sitting in the back row. His satalite phone buzzed in his pocket and he quietly rose and went near the doorway...

"Good Afternoon..."
"How did you get my private num..."
"Now what do you want, Sir..."
"You must be joking..."
"I'm hanging up...No, Fine!"

He carries the phone up towards Treznor and mubbled as he does so,
leans over and whispers..."Call for you sir, I'm sorry for the interruption"
He hands the small unit over as a voice can be heard over the line...
Hello, is this the Gentleman who inspected the item up for bid?

The mystery man twirls about and points to a camera, certain the Cadet is watching. He mouths something, perhaps a curse word or two, or was it a dare.
The move was a little careless, as a tatoo can be seen slightly on his right wrist and hand, the head of a serpent dragon, blood red in color.

"14.5 million." Baron cleared his throat. He wasn't aware that the Scolopendran cadet had heard him. Now he sounded like an obnoxious buffoon to all in attendance.

"Well, that's curious." Bondayehr looks over his shoulder. "Recognize him, gentlemen?"

Razak chuckles. "Not really... and consider yourself freed from standard customs and courtesies, Cadet. Last names will be acceptable... but... hey, Garbo, run a check. Wantanabe, get Speaker. He'll want to watch."

Both men nod and move to their respective tasks.

* - * - *

Fourteen-point-five-one million. CEO Kargaah, you are a wise one. I am only a mere cadet, but wish to see the best for you. Would it not be best to put such funds into research and development?

-- C/3C Bondayehr

* - * - *

"A little tease..."

[edit to get names right]

"14.7 Million"
Damnit, if this keeps up it will be hard to hide on the budget.

Franz Krager, supervisor of Delicious Frankfurters(tm) productions, had been standing quietly in the back for a rather long while now, amused at the absurd bids for an equally absurd purpose. He took a step forward and stretched, yawning. This is turning out to be a terribly boring vacation. Taking a bite from the hot dog he held on his hand, he lazily surveyed the crowd of eager bidders. They're practically drooling from testosterone overload, he mused to himself, as he continued to devour the hot dog. Suddenly, he paused in mid-bite, for something flashed across his vision ... something red and black, an insignia, perhaps, or a tatoo. Taking one last bite from the half-finished hot dog, he threw it in the waste disposal and began, silently, pushing his way forward into the crowd.

Pervert raised his hand, "15 million."

Well met, Cadet Bondayehr. And who is to say that this is NOT part of research and development? I rarely enter into something that will not show profit in one fashion or another. And while i'm at it, 15.1 million.

http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/Character/Ghaar.JPG

Your wisdom is well known, CEO Kargaah, and so even though this be madness, yet there is method to it. Fifteen-point-one-five million.

My goal is well known. I wonder what yours is?

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

OOC: Small note, my character isn't going to like flip out or anything. If anything, he wants to remain unknown. But he is arrogant and brash. Just fleshing out a character for later.

IC:
"15.2"

Treznor watches the bidding war quickly turn into pure silliness. He folds his arms and waits to see how high it'll go before he makes any final decisions. I was going to stop around five, but it went to twelve awfully quickly. Someone has a really sick sense of humour. Worse than mine, I think.

All the same, I can't wait to see Nath's reaction to that thing framed on my wall the next time she visits.

He quirks an eyebrow at the mention of a phone call, and after a brief moment of hesitation he accepts it. "Hello? Were you calling for me?"

"15.3 Million."

Kargaah whips out a datapad, and begins calculations. Hrrmmm...at this rate, i'll not see a profit for some time. Most likely after I head for the Eternal Void. Ah, well....

"This goes into the realm of outlandish, and so I will take my leave. Good luck Gentle Beings, and good fortune."

Shit, shit, shit. Sixteen is all I can handle.
"15.4"

Baron smiled to Kargaah, "It was a pleasure while it lasted. Good day." He turned his attention to the newest foe, the gentleman who had just bid 15.4 million. He hoped he could get some sort of conversation going. "So tell me good sir, what is your reason for bidding on this garment?" He also raised his hand, "15.5 million."

"Well, we've got a return on that guy." Garbo looks up from his desk. "He's putting out a lot of money for his salary."

"Who is he?" Razak asks as Speaker wanders out of his office, looking at the sedate buzz of activity.

"The vice president of Berserker, apparently. He definitely shouldn't have this kind of money to fling around."

"That is curious." Speaker rubs his chin. "Contact the Berserker intelligence services and inform them of the current actions of their politician."

"Yes, sir."

"WHOOO!" Bondayehr throws his fists into the air. "Kargaah bowed out!"

Hearing the silence, he turns around to look at the assorted eyes watching. "Ummm... sorry. I'm getting excited, admittedly, but it's for a good cause."

Speaker-to-Animals chuckles. "Carry on, Cadet."

* - * - *

Fifteen-point-six-five million.

-- C/3C Bondayehr

As the mystery man raises his left hand to bid again, his phone rings.
"15.7"

He answers the call. "What the fuck do you think you're doing."
"Bidding you dolt"
"That little pointing incident may get you revealed, we don't want your perversions bringing us down. Leave on your feet or leave on your death bed."

The man closes the phone, "Goddamnit", and storms off.

"Well," Gregor says, "I think that makes me the winner of our bet."

"By barely half a minute, Gregor. Damn, I wish they'd held out on hitting 10 million a bit longer."

"Yo, minion! Come hither!"

----
{Live Video Feed}
x Lyle Hermendanof (Minion Fourth Class, Imperial Staff)
o DNL Underwear Auction

"Erm, I bid an even sixteen million standard."

"Don't forget the note."

"Oh, yeah. Ahem. 'This action is in no way, shape, or form on the behalf of any member of the Cetagandan goverment. So there, ha.' Um, my lord, did they even know I was Cetagandan before this?"

"The boy has a point, you know."

"Shut up."

"Of course, your imperious majesticness."

{Transmission Ends}

As soon as Baron had spoken to the man he stormed off. Thus was the life of a bidding war. Obvously he had upset whoever he was bidding on behalf of.

"16.1 million."

"Ugh... the Cetagandans are involved." Bondayehr frowns. "I can't compete against the bloody Vetinari."

"Hrm..." Razak chuckles. "They are using standard Cetagandan transmission protocols... Lance, how are we doing for e-dub Lokis?"

Hawke blinks. "You're not saying jam them?"

Razak feigns innocence. "Me? I never said anything about such things. I just think it's time for our Jovian roving cruiser squadron to have a previously-scheduled selective-bandwidth denial exercise."

"Isn't that cheating, sir?"

Razak smirks at the cadet. "What, you don't want the help?"

"Not particularly... not yet."

"Fair enough."

* - * - *

Sixteen-point-two million.

--C/3C Bondayehr

This was becoming dreadfully boring for Baron. It was so... just "blah blah point blah blah." Where was the conversation? Where was the intensity? Space cadet 3rd class wasn't helping matters either. He was basically bidding on behalf of the Dread Lady.

"16.3."

"Pure silliness. That's all there is to it. Insane, perverted organics indulging in bizarre fetishes." Tsume shakes his head in bewilderment at all the activity surrounding the auction.

"Sheesh." Firefury agrees, peering at the TV. ".... Hey, isn't that kid in the back there that guy that won the big lotto jackpot last week?"

"........ I think so." Tsume looks at the teenage figure on screen.

"Wonderful."

At the auction, the slightly pudgy, dark haired youth raises one sweaty hand. "Sixteen-point-four million!"

~Vir-ee Hen Tai
~Random Shogunate citizen

"You horrible person. You're sucking away that kid's mother's retirement fund or something."

"Alright, alright. I'll send him some money or something. Although one wonders how he can afford to bid that much in the first place..."

"Who cares. Stop being an arse, or else."

---
{Live Video Feed}
x Lyle Hermendanof (Minion Fourth Class, Imperial Staff)
o DNL Underwear Auction

"I, um, respectfully withdraw from the bidding, and wish Ser Bondayehr the best of luck. Thank the gods. Can I leave, my lord? My mother's expecting me home in time for supper."

{Transmission Ends}

----
{Audio Transmission; m10 Security Protocols
x Someone (Imperial Palace, Cetaganda)
o Cadet 3rd Class Timofeyeh Bondayehr

"If you check your account, you'll find it now has an extra 550,000 standard in it, which is the difference between your last two bids."

A man in the background says menancingly, "Gregor, are you sure about that?"

"Erm, I mean 1 million. Is that enough?"

"For now, unless it goes up more. Its not like you need it."

"True enough. Oh, and I am absolutely not Gregor Vetinari, or anyone connected to him. Just a friendly person who likes those who help others. Honest.

{Transmission Ends}

Baron sighs, "16.5 million."

"Well, this is certainly a windfall." Bondayehr leans back, folding his arms. "I think you can delay that previously-scheduled exercise, sir."

Razak nods. "I guess you'll want to compose a thank-you note. I'll spin up the m10 protocols for you."

* - * - *

Thank you, sir. I will be sure to inform the Dread Lady that I was assisted by... anonymous sources.

If it turns out that I fail, I will send the funds back.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

* - * - *

Getting tired, sir? I recall you asking about motivations previously; what are yours?

Sixteen million, five-hundred-fifty thousand.

--C/3C Bondayehr

"This has gone far enough." Yet another long stream of rather colorful curses, accentuated by at least one glass shattering against a wall drifts out from the office of the Dread Lady.

"Ah ... my Lady," Gianni's hesitant voice calls in from the hall, him being wise enough not to stick his head in when things are being thrown about. "Signore Benito Morosini is here to see you, as requested."

"Come," she answers in a clipped voice.

The lawyer clears his throat, walking in and making a curt bow, attache case in hand. "My Lady, having reviewed the facts gathered by your people, and having interviewed and seen taped footage of Mr. Sarto's confession, I believe you have solid grounds for a lawsuit, or at least, a fair shot at putting the auction on hold til things can be straightened out."

"This had better be good, Morosini," she says darkly, pouring herself another glass of ice water, and sipping slowly.

He nods confidently. "Here are the details ..."

------------------------------
In a message transmitted to the auctionhouse, for general viewing


To the distinguished gentlemen running the current auction for the purported undergarments of the Dread Lady, and to those currently bidding, greetings.

It has come to our attention that you may have in your posession stolen goods. If these are indeed the Lady's unmentionables, as they appear to be, you gentlemen are unlawfully peddling stolen merchandise, taken directly from the ship of my client by one Eduino Sarto, until recently, employed by her in the capacity of housekeeping.

A recorded confession from Mr. Sarto, as well as signed documents attesting to his wrongdoings, will soon be provided to the auction house to verify this fact.

Now, we are willing to allow you some leeway, as we realize you may not have realized that the contraband was indeed, stolen. In an effort to keep things friendly, we are willing to accept the garment in question back, with no unfriendly reprocussions.

In addition, we have observed and tracked down the fact that not one, but several of the Lady's purported allies have people bidding on this item. While our honorable and idealistic ally, Scolopendra, has been represented quite admirably by of all people, a young, resourceful cadet, it has been noted that the others have shown a more reprehensible streak. While the Lady can, by no means, hold the governments of these nations responsible for the actions of their citizens, it has caused her some measure of distress. We hope that out of respect, and given the nature of these proceedings, that these good people will withdraw their bids - with the noteable exception of Cadet Bondayehr, who's efforts we applaud, and encourage, should our own fail.

We await your response.

[transmitted before they realized some had already withdrawn, apologies there *grins*]

Barons eyes lit up, "Motivations you ask! Well..." his smile turns to a frown, "…To tell you the truth my motivations are slightly less pure than yours. You see I represent the richest man in all of the Eurydian Republic, Reamus Kastor. He’s had a fascination for the Dread Lady for as long as anyone can remember. He has collected various sorts of ‘memorabilia’ associated with the Dread Lady and so he would naturally want to add this… piece of clothing to his collection. His interest for her is well known throughout the Republic, and so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me telling you his motivations.”

Baron raised his hand, but is cut short by a personal message from the Dread Lady’s attorney. He mulled over the transmission for a minute before contacting Reamus Kastor himself. “Sir, she’s telling everyone to withdraw there bids, respectfully of course.”

The man on the other line sighed, “I knew this would happen eventually. I hate feeling like a pervert but buying her underoos is probably the closest I’ll ever get to the real Nathicana.”

Baron nodded, “You wish me to continue bidding sir?”

There was a long moment of silence. Reamus finally answered. “Yes.” Reamus Kastor's obsession had gotten the best of him.

Baron sighed. I’m never going to live this down. My apologies Dread Lady.

“I'm afraid I cannot comply with your request. 16.6 million.”

OOC: If you would really like your underoos back, by all means just uh... tell me. I figured if someone stayed in it would make things more interesting.

"Wow. The man's willing to give the money back. I'm even more impressed than I was before."

"I agree," replies Gregor. "Tell you what... I'll see to it that the account gets closed so that he can't give it back. Of course, it'll likely just get sent to some charity or some such. I'll just find some way to make it stick."

"How generous of you. It almost makes up for driving up the bids in the first place."

"Well, it was going to help some out-of-country orphanage anyways. Gah! Stop hitting me! I was joking! Gods, when did you start thinking you could beat up your leader?"

"I'm sending him a note. I don't trust you not to botch it up."

----
{Text Message; m10 Security Protocols}
x Tarvi Andivar (Imperial Palace, Cetaganda)
o Timofeyev Bondayehr

Let me assure you that there's no need to return the money if you don't win. I'm sure you can find something to do with it that would be suitable, although I sincerly hope you keep at least some of it. Buy your mother a birthday present or something if you won't keep any at all.

Oh, and let me appologize for Gregor. Sometimes he doesn't know when to let a joke drop.

~Tarvi Andivar,
writing for Gregor Vetinari, Emperor of Cetaganda, Imperious Git, ect, ect.

*Slowly backs away*

Ah ha! She'll want to know about this.

The nondescript man who has been closely watching the high bidders, casually hanging near, steps back, flipping open his phone and quickly dialing a number, then speaking softly in his native language.

"Yes. I have a name for you. Eurydian Republic, Reamus Kastor. Mmmhmm. Seems to have some sick fascination for the Lady. Mentioned something about other 'memorabilia', whatever that means. Uh hum ... yes, understood."

Snapping his phone shut, he tentatively approaches the man.

"I couldn't help but overhear your comments, signore. Perhaps your client would be interested in a little ... offer?"

Timofeyev blinks. "Well... it was kinda obvious before... but to see it in writing... hoo boy. Cetagandan support plus one. Still, it's sad to see that that guy isn't backing down after legal threats by the Dread Lady."

Hertzfeldt nods, sitting on the side of the desk. "So, what's the plan, Cadet?"

"Well... I could step back and attempt to await a legal solution. However, such things are notoriously slow... my first instinct is to continue attempting victory by following my current strategy of drawing out the results. Either he'll bow out or the Dread Lady will bust the show."

* - * - *

Especially seeing how I have express blessing... amazing how idealism pays off for once... I am under no threat. Sixteen-point-six-five million."

-- C/3C Bondayehr

Baron turned sharply. He had expected a response of something along the lines of, "You bastard, I'm gonna skewer you like a uh... something that should be skewered!" Instead a man who had gone unnoticed throughout the entirety of the proceedings thus far approached him. Baron looked shrewdly to the man, “An offer you say? Do you represent the Dread Lady?” The man nodded. “Interesting. I’m sure my client wouldn’t mind hearing you out. Please good sir, tell me what this offer consists of.”

((Oh, this is good. Taggishness.))

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight, Tarvi." Gregor shakes a printout at the other man. "You sent an this appology to them? With my name on it? To a cadet? And called me an Imperious Git, no less?"

"Pretty much, yeah. My good deed of the day."

"Did you notice where he's transmitting from? That in all likelyhood, the entire Scolopendran command staff saw it."

"Hmmm. Yes, I did consider it. It'll reinforce to them that you're humble or something."

Gregor softly bangs his head on his desk. "Great. I think I'll just go cry in my room now."

"Awww, poor Gregor. Do you need a hug?"

"Yes."

"Grazie, signore. I do indeed represent the interests of the Lady, insofar as at least keeping an eye on the proceedings and acting as a liason for her here." He makes a short bow at the shoulders, smiling politely.

"She has been most distressed at this ridiculous display, yet moreso that her requests have gone unheeded. She is curious as to why your benefactor would squander such resources on this trivial item when he could could, at the much reduced price of travel, visit the Dominion itself and simply meet her."

Baron opened his mouth as if to answer, but something stopped him. A damn good question. He regained his composure quickly.

“You could guarantee a personal exchange between the Dread Lady and my client? If that is indeed the case I will place a call to him immedietly.”

"Indeed, signore, I have been authorized to do just that. At least, that is, to arrange a face to face meeting, no more, no less. This of course is dependant on your client withdrawing his bid, you understand."

He's intrigued. Excellent.

Speaker Michael MacFarlane leaned across the table, his face slack with disbelief. "They're doing what, again?"

"An underwear auction, Mike." Treasurer-Secretary of Commerce Matthew Griffith said, speaking as if he himself didn't believe it. "Apparently they've got ahold of one of the Dread Lady's," he cleared his throat, "undergarments, and possibly some other items, and they're auctioning them off."

The table was silent for a second, and then Tara Grayson looked at James Weston, her expression deadly serious, and said, "Don't even think about it."

A black suited man sits on a chair at the middle of the Auction room, he looks at the red thong without blinking for a few seconds.. he divers his eyes to the auctioneer..

I bid.. one.. hundred.. million... for the item in question.

OOC: Don’t suppose we should wait for Kaenei to read up on these developments?

IC: Baron nodded and pulled out his phone. He had come to despise that red thong. He was sure it would haunt his dreams for years to come.

“Hello?”

Red was a color Baron had once liked, but now he was going to tell his wife to rid her drawer of all things red in color. But what about that silky, quasi-doctor outfit? No, all of it must be purged.

“Hello? Baron are you there?”

Baron was snapped back into reality, “Oh, yes sir. I have some interesting news. The Dread Lady is willing to meet you in person if you withdraw your bid concerning the underoos.”

“You must be kidding me?” Reamus was not the type to bite easily, “What were her exact words?”

Baron fumbled around in his mind, trying to remember, “Well, I believe it was something along the lines of, ‘a face to face meeting, no more, no less.’ Yes, that is what her representative said.”

Reamus shook his head, “I see. That sounds like a very forced answer. That ‘face to face meeting’ would most likely consist of us seeing each other through a bulletproof window.” He scoffed, “ To add insult to injury they had to add ‘no more, no less?’ They must think of me as some sort of insane, obsessive freak.”

Baron looked to the man who was waiting for an answer. “So what would you like me to tell them sir?”

Reamus sighed, “Well I’m not going to get much more from them than that. Plus, continuing to bid on her skivvies isn’t the best course of action. Ask her representative if something less… formal could be arranged. Tell them I don’t bite.”

Baron nodded, “Yes sir.” He put the phone on hold and addressed the man. “Tell me, could a more casual meeting be arranged? My client is a bit disturbed by the apparent formality and possible curtness this meeting could consist of.” Baron winced on the inside. He didn’t want to appear to be ungrateful, “He is overjoyed that the Dread Lady would be willing to meet him. He just wonders if a more specific agreement could be reached. Perhaps something along the lines of… going out for a cup of coffee.” He chuckled at the absurdity of his statement. Brokering a pair of underwear for a cup of Joe? He never would have thought.

“Oh,” he added, “one more thing. Tell the Dread Lady that my client doesn’t bite.”

A black suited man sits on a chair at the middle of the Auction room, he looks at the red thong without blinking for a few seconds.. he divers his eyes to the auctioneer..

I bid.. one.. hundred.. million... for the item in question.

ooc: Oh please, get the hell out with that ridiculous number. You can't be serious. What possible reason do you have? Seriously, now.

(OOC: I'm standing by for Kaenei. Time for this player to go to bed.)

When the reports of this underwear auction reached Overlord Bradley Steelblood's ear deep beneath his palace in the war room, he merely snorted with disgust.

"They're all fools, fools with too much money," he muttered. "It's really quite sad, paying millions for an old thong. For that much, one could have nearly any woman he wished for!"

"Not the Dread Lady though," the Warlord Baldur Grimwald commented. The Overlord waved his hand, dismissing the comment.

"Bah!" he scoffed. "I've seen hotter."

The Warlord looked at him doubtfully.

"Oh, enough of this juvenile banter!" he growled. "We have work to do."

With that, the two men resumed their work, going over some important defense contracts.

Treznor watches the bidding war quickly turn into pure silliness. He folds his arms and waits to see how high it'll go before he makes any final decisions. I was going to stop around five, but it went to twelve awfully quickly. Someone has a really sick sense of humour. Worse than mine, I think.

All the same, I can't wait to see Nath's reaction to that thing framed on my wall the next time she visits.

He quirks an eyebrow at the mention of a phone call, and after a brief moment of hesitation he accepts it. "Hello? Were you calling for me?"

"Yes I am, I was wondering why you had placed yourself in the postion of having to buy those panties. After all you have just declared youreself to be intimate with the lady in question, and she is going to want them back...I'm also assuming you don't want to become a cad in her eyes."

"There doing a what now?" The voice of Alexander Taurain, prince of the Enduring Empire and chosen future Emperor of the Enduring Empire sounded through the small lounge room as the Prince looked up perplexedly from the pool table at his friend and mentor, Marcus Aerezin.

"A Ladies underwear auction. Specifically in this case an auction of the panties of Nathicana D'Aquisto. You may have heard of her, she’s the Dread lady of the Dominion.” Marcus said smilingly as he watched the prince shoot on of the pool balls into a side pocket.

“Yes, I’ve heard of her name a few times. Can’t say I know that much though, blame the whole former isoliniost policy… Lot of dominions out there, really. So, uhm… Is she cute?”

“Excuse me? Oh, the Dread Lady… Well I would say that ‘regal beauty’ is closer to describing what I have seen lady D’Aquisto rather than ‘cute’… Why?” Drawing out the final word, Marcus stares suspiciously at his pupil and prince, bracing himself for whatever the prince might say.

“Nothing really, was just curious.” Smiling as he manages to get two balls into the same corner pocket, Alexander spreads his arms and bows theatrically at Marcus who mocks applauds.

“You just got lucky, oh prince of mine. Just wait till I get my shot.” Grinning, Marcus grabbed his glass of scotch as the prince prepared for his next shot.

Looking up, Alexander waited till Marcus had a good swallow of his drink. “Then again, my sister’s birthday is coming up, might get her Lady D’aquisto’s underwear.” Laughing out loud, the prince moved quickly around the table to pat Marcus on the back as the man started coughing loudly on his scotch while a significant part of it had been send spraying over the pool table.

Daniel reclined slowly, surveying the intense bidding between the Scolopendrian cadet, obviously backed by fairly powerful interests, and his furious opponent. He quirked his eyebrow as the bids reached past sixteen million. In truth, Daniel didn't care where it ended up. He loathed his job almost as much as what he was being forced into auctioning now. He had tired of selling jewellery, antiques and clothing. Yes, this piece had attracted interest, and certainly given him a little notoriety. But he didn't wish it to follow him around for the rest of his working life.

Retreating backstage, he conversed with one of his colleagues, a short man, with hair to balding and thick, steel rimmed spectacles.

"I think its time to end this and go home." he said.

The short one agreed, his eyes flittering back and fore as he calculated the incoming bids and transfers, "I think that we have reached the limit of a civillian legality. If we surpass the twenty million mark, we will most certainly be investigated for accumulating such an amount in a ridiculously short time. In addition, no doubt word is reaching official channels. The Aengelis Administorium will not look kindly on this."

Daniel sighed, managing a grin.

"Lets wrap things up."


_*_





Killthanus passed his eyes over the note once more, a disbelief settling over his features.

"An auction? Of underwear? The Dread Lady's own underwear?"

Melyanna, seated across the desk, allowed a light giggle to escape her lips, She tossed a lock of blonde over her shoulder, "This is certainly unusual."

Killthanus nodded, still confused. Placing the datanode on the desk, he moved into action.



_*_



Bondayeher, no doubt waiting for the official recognition, as he stood by his terminal, recieved a puzzling, if welcomed private transmission. Whilst it was sent via Trium lines, and from the Serene^Union, it was not officially validated, or checked....


>>> Your bid has been accepted.

>>> Said items will be transported with haste to the Federated Segments.

>>>We trust nothing further will be said.

>>>We await final validation of your bid, and acceptance.



-Daniel.







Abruptly, the auctionhouse descended into total darkness. The lighting flickered and died, leaving only the skylight, filtering inwards weakened moonlight to illuminate. Several minutes passed, before a sole spotlight lit the stage area.

"Ladies and Gentleman, this auction is closed. Lot number thirteen has been sold to an undisclosed bidder. We thank you for your time and patience, and better luck next time."

With that cryptic and infuriating statement, the spotlight died, and Daniel leapt form view. No doubt offical channels would now be mobilising, and the auction house the target of some "investigation." It would be up to associated parties to make their way from the no-longer secret location.


From the rear exit Daniel hesitantly took a final look at the warehouse that had served as home and his workplace for nearly eight years. Stopping only to check the sought-after item was securely stowed away, and his companion aboard, he climbed and sealed the walkway.

With a roar the gravitic emitters distorted mass and gravity, allowing the bulky cargo transport to leave the ground, and set off with a belying grace.

"Yes I am, I was wondering why you had placed yourself in the postion of having to buy those panties. After all you have just declared youreself to be intimate with the lady in question, and she is going to want them back...I'm also assuming you don't want to become a cad in her eyes."
Treznor smirks slightly and looks around the room to see if anyone else is talking on the phone. "Frankly, my reasons are none of your business and the Dread Lady's reaction is my concern, not yours. I might as well ask your interest in the panties, but frankly I don't care. Thank you for your interest."

He cuts the connection and hands the phone back to the original owner. "Prank call," he says.

When the bidding ends, he frowns and watches Daniel leap away in the darkness. Did someone turn up the heat? Damn, I'll have to find out who won. For one thing, Nath'll kill me if I let those things end up in the lap of some pervert. So much for the easy way.

He stands and makes his way back to his bodyguards. "All right, boys and girls. Let's go."

The nondescript man frowns slightly, going to take up his phone again.

"Aye, he wants to know if something more personal can be arranged," the man murmurs with a wry grin. "Says he doesn't bite ..."

As the lights go out, and the message is relayed, he pales, murmuring the goings on through the phone in his native language.

"Bug out. Now." comes the brief response, followed by the connection being cut.

He takes the opportunity of darkness and confusion to slip through the crowd, making his way quietly towards the exit, and out, letting the door close on the uproar the announcement.

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

"Did it work? Is it ours? Maledicali tutti ad inferno, where are they headed?" she demands.

"Sit tight, and wait, my Lady," the attourney says smoothly, flinching slightly as she casts her glare on him. "Your intel folks are on it, your allies, and hopefully, no small amount of pressure is on those working against you. Word will come, and shortly I'd imagine."

Patience.

Not always her best 'virtue'.

The young Lord just laughed at the man hanging up. “Oh, well I miscalculated how greedy the auctioneer was going to get. And how that twit was going to act after that display. Well, nothing more for me to do at the moment...those boys working on my order were going to get back to me... So lets see if I can see next weeks orders by Terran Sphere for soybeans…”
He switches over to a second computer and starts to type in code....
******
The Royal Steward just though Thank God it was only those.

Executive Apartments

"Mission accomplished." The cadet leans back with a satisfied smirk as the automated money transfer program does its thing. "At the cost of... sixteen million, six hundred and fifty thousand dollars." He lets out a low whistle. "I'm never going to see that kind of money again... I hope my sponsor doesn't mind the loss."

"I don't think she will," Garbo snickers.

"Well... I know a gender now, at least." Bondayehr looks up at the chief spook. "Hate to bother you, sir, but could you send the remaining three-point-three-five million back to her? I'm afraid she didn't leave a return address. Doesn't seem right to stick her with the shipping costs, seeing how the auctioneers are going to send it here."

Garbo shrugs. "Suit yourself."

"Now, to return Emperor Vetinari's money..." Turning back to the desk console, he opens up his accounts (now much smaller than their peak), allocates two-hundred thousand workreps (the equivalent of one million dollars) and prepares to send them back to the account that sent them. Click, hold, drag, release. Confirm.

>> Transfer Denied. <<

"Wha?" Click, hold, drag, release confirm. Repeat again. "It's not working."

"What's not working?" Hertzfeldt looks over the cadet's shoulder.

"The money transfer. The account I sent it to... just isn't taking it back." Bondayehr sighs. "Well, that settles it. He's going to pay for shipping, at least."

"Money wired to your 'sponsor,' Cadet." Garbo chuckles. "So, Vetinari's not taking his money back, eh? Want me to launder it back to him?"

"Let me take out the cost of shipping a package to the Dominion first... estimate high, and whatever is left will go towards a nice gift for my mother and then to charity. I think the reasonable request of a head-of-state of the Triumvirate can classify as a lawful order."

Spoilsport shakes his head. "You're hopeless, kid." He quickly gets glared down rather quickly by most everyone else.

"Alright, then." Garbo leans back over his desk, tapping its display screen. "Just tell me when."

"Not going to accept any payment, are you?" Razak smirks.

"Well, my sponsor mentioned something about compensation. If she really feels that strongly about it, I guess it's okay... services rendered and all. Still, I guess it all depends on the magnitude, really."

"Not if you keep to that 'reasonable request' logic, it won't..." Garbo mutters with a secret smile, eyes lit up mischeviously.

"Pardon, sir?"

"Nothing, Cadet. Ready to send?"

"Sure."

"Actually, Cadet," the local S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar chuckles, having seen the whole affair, "would you like to save on shipping?"

"Of course, ma'am."

S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles. "Garbo, send all of Vetinari's money back, if you can. I'll authorize for a free shipping on a Queendom vessel."

* - * - *

The Apartment of Überness, two days later

Timofeyev gingerly sets the package on the table, minimizing contact as much as possible not out of any antiquated sense of prudishness but out of an odd sort of sensibility. The entire reason he was doing this was to keep strange people from the contents, and so the less contact the better.

"So, that's The Package?" Bondayehr's roommate grins from his end, getting up out of his chair.

"Yep."

"Gonna check to make sure it's the goods?" The roomie grins impishly.

"Hell, no."

"Heh heh. Figured as much."

Sitting back at his desk with a clipboard--never bothering to disconnect the portcomp from its multiple power and accessory leads--Timofeyev kicks up, pulls out his best black ink pen, and thinks for a moment. Hrm... what's more appropriate... handwritten or typed? Deciding that formality is best, he puts away the clipboard and pen and turns to his portcomp. Checking occasionally in his copy of ADH 33-337, he quickly types out a standard-format personal letter, prints it out, then signs it with a slight flourish. Noting that the standard-size printout covers the top of the package well, he centers it before quickly wrapping the package again in brown paper, securing with faintly-smelling translucent brown packing tape. Writing the address of Nathi's villa on the front in a simple not-particularly-pleasant but quite legible print, he follows up with his return address and checks his watch. 1540... just ten more minutes. Nice of them to offer to pick up the package for me...

The doorbell rings at exactly three-fifty in the afternoon, Titan Standard Time, give or take some exceedingly negligible time period. Walking into the apartment's tiny foyer, he opens the door, then does something that he realizes is a common reaction to unexpected events. This is, of course, blinking.

S.H.O.D.A.N. grins and bows shortly. "I'm here to deliver the package to the Dread Lady."

"Er... okay... ma'am." He then does something that he often does to cover up confusion, and that is lapse into formal speech. "I must admit, this is quite the surprise..."

The mechanoid chuckles softly. "I'm sure it is."

"Oh... sorry for being a rude host, ma'am, keeping you in the hall." Bondayehr steps back. "I can either get the package now, or, if you'd like, you can come in for tea or something..." Why did I just offer that?

Shodey laughs softly, eyes slightly mischievous. "No insult taken, but I do believe I will take you up on it..."

Tim, frankly, wings it, stepping aside as the avatar steps smoothly into the apartment. "What kind of tea do you prefer? We have company, Amark!"

* - * - *

The Dread Lady's Villa

"The payoff of idealism, sis." Shodey grins and hands off, as described previously, a package wrapped in brown paper, addresses written in a simple print, with "NATHICANA D'AQUISTO, DREAD LADY OF THE DOMINION" written out in block letters at the top of the recipient address block. Sealed securely with packing tape, inside is a single sheet of unfolded paper and what appears to be a standard small shipping cardboard box, still sealed on the end with banded Kaeneian mail service tape in addition to the various forms of tape affixed by the original senders.

Cadet Third Class Timofeyev M. J. Bondayehr
CSG/IMI, Detachment 702
89 East Birch Street
Apartment #401N
Stonozka, FSS 48107

Dread Lady Nathicana D'Aquisto
Chief of State of the Dominion
Via Reggio Morosini, 63
23008 Verasci (Devras)
Dominion of DLN

Dear Dread Lady D'Aquisto

I am sorry that you have had to suffer such a dishonor as the Kaeneian auction but am pleased to report that, with the assistance of both named and unnamed benefactors who by their own desire shall remain anonymous, I have managed to reaquire your belongings for you.

My apologies if the title and forms of address in the recipient block and the salutation are incorrect; however, my copy of The Tongue and Quill has no section pertaining to addressing foreign heads of state.

Very Respectfully,

<SIGNED>
TIMOFEYEV M. J. BONDAYEHR, Cadet Third Class, SAD

Suddenly, things became very interesting for the quite bored Baron Pervert. The lights had dimmed, the auctioneer had made a hasty statement, and now the house was in an uproar. Baron himself couldn’t quite understand what was going on; it all happened too fast. Baron attempted to search for the Dread Lady’s “informant,” in vain of course. He had slipped out during the commotion. That bastard! So kind and courteous when it suits him, but when the lights go out he scurries away. Funny though, sewer rats are usually afraid of the light, not the dark.

Baron pulled his phone out and was connected to Reamus immediately. “Sir,” he said with a sigh, “There’s been another development. It appears that the Dread Lady has secured her underoos via outside means. It appears almost as though the auctioneer sold them out of fright. He’s gone, the man I talked to is gone… everyone is leaving as though the place is about to be raided by the authorities.”

Reamus chuckled, “I knew this opportunity would be squandered. As soon as the statement from the Dread Lady was read you should have realized those “higher powers” vying for her underwear would put the chokehold on our friend the auctioneer.”

“Indeed sir. It appears as though you won’t be seeing the Dread Lady or her unmentionables. The skivvies have been sold to an… ‘undisclosed bidder.’”

Reamus sighed, “It’s of little concern to me right now that I don’t have either.” He the thought for a moment; perhaps he had been robbed of both prizes? “I want you to find out who won. This ‘undisclosed bidder’ may be closer than you think.”

“Sir, can’t I just come home? I’ve spent enough of my time on a single pair of underwear.” Baron’s plea was very uncharacteristic.

“No you cannot just come home. I pay you well to do my bidding and I expect as such. Check on your rival, the Scolopendran. He was in cahoots with the Dread Lady from the moment this bidding started.”

Baron rolled his eyes, “You’re chasing ghosts, sir. There is no connection. The Dread Lady could have acquired her property easily without getting that boy to do it. Besides, the auctioneer has left and the Scolopendran is across the… well… he’s somewhere where the auction house isn’t. I can’t beat him up and ask him some questions.”

“Hmmm,” was Reamus’s reply. “I suppose I should cut my losses and run, shouldn’t I?”

Baron nodded, but kept his answer neutral, “It’s up to you sir.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Come home Baron.”

Five Days After The Auction
Inquires are made by Amos and Andy Intragalatic Shipping about the secure delivery of one item to
LADY NATHICANA D'AQUISTO, THE DOMINION
From
BARON AND LOYDS
1228 Hauptman Ave
Thunderbay
Alcona, G4582

The item (assuming security inspection and a fairly easy delievery schedule) appears to be a four and half foot oak cabinet in early regency style with marquetry in both rosewood and walnut. The doors open to reveal an interior fitted with five drawers. The faces covered in rosewood with guilded brass handles. The upper drawer is slighly narrower that those below with two large 4 inch sunburts on each side. Closer inspection reveals that these are actually combination locks with letters of the alphabet corresponding to each of the rays on the sunburst. The included brocure from Baron and Loyds reveals that each one of the drawers is actually constructed of 1/4 inch tunstun armor plate with the fronts being 1/2 thick and the sides of the cabinet being 3/4 inch plate beneith the wood veneer. The combination locks control four locking points for each drawer such that both locks must be unlocked for any of the drawers to be opened. An enclosed letter comes with the gift written out in a small neat handwritting that is almost copperplate.

My Dear Lady D'Aquisto,
I found the recent auction of your personal items to be appalling and hope that you have recovered your lost possesion. It came to my attention that someone in the public eye should not have to have the indignity that was graced upon yourself and have desired to help correct the problem.

The present I have sent should be seen as a gift of an admirer and well wisher, nothing more or less. I hope that you find it useful in preventing anymore of your personal effects from being pilfered. After all, the price set at auction for your personal effect is likely to drive the greedy and the callous to repeat the offense in hopes of even more profit.

Again, my best wishes.

Respectfully Yours,
<signed>
Lord Markum of the Outer Islands


edit:typo

Bruce Reynolds watched the report on the Auction, and then the recording itself with a slight chuckle. He'd gotten to know the Dread Lady well enough when he had visited the Dominion to guess at her probable reaction to Emperor Treznor's display.

He finished off his brief analysis report on impressions from the Auction, and based on, as the politely phrased request had said, "Personal Knowledge of the Dread Lady Nathicana."

He smiled briefly, remembering his trip that had inspired such personal knowledge. Cortana always had a sense of humor when she asked people to make Intel Reports.

"So, Gregor, I hear you're bidding on women's underwear. What does your fiancee think of that?" Lady Signy Mallory grins at the young man.

Gregor sighs. "Not you, too. It was a joke! A joke! And how do you know, anyways?"

"Well, my grandson the minion did come to supper and start talking about it. What? Didn't know he was a relative?"

"No, Aunt Signy, I did not. Besides, I helped that Scolopendran cadet get them, though he seemed to have plenty of money himself, from who knows where -"

"Lady D'Aquisto, says ONI," interjects Mallory.

"- and he's already tried to give it back. Then sent it to charity, no doubt anonymously. Wait, why does the Office of Naval Intelligence care about some cadet's funds?"

"We try keep track of major funds transfers through accounts related to other navies. Any truth to the other rumor that says you sent an appology to said cadet over bumping up the bid."

"Technically, no. I didn't send it myself mainly because other nations don't have quite the same relationships between lord and vassal. Family tradition and good manners says a Vetinari apologizes when in the wrong, but outsiders wouldn't understand a message like that from a head of state to a mere cadet?"

The Villa

"Sis, I have to tell you ... that is the most expensive pair of underwear I have ever purchased," Nathi says with a grin. "Would you believe, the first time I paid for them, it was a mere six? I bought a matching bra, too. Victoria's Secret, Body By VictoriaTM line. They were on clearance, even, more's the irony. Still ... a ridiculous price, to be sure, but worth the worry and feeling of 'ick' I'd have had it gone otherwise." Shivering just a bit, she gives Shodey an impulsive hug.

"Now, to the important matter. How to reward my young idealistic saviour? From what I know of the Scolopendrans, and what character he's shown, getting him to accept any sort of compensation or thanks is going to be difficult, to say the least. I thought perhaps working through official lines would be my best bet. A temporary change of venue for our little White Knight, perhaps? I've been pondering an idea or two ..."

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

Office off the Piazza San Bernardi

"Sarò maledetto," Marik murmured, "Not a single sovereign missing. You have got to be kidding me."

Masetti let out a low whistle. "Are those people for real?" he asked increduously. "The auctioneer said 'for an undisclosed amount' after all. Kid could have made off with the whole thing with no one the wiser."

"True ... true ... the fact that what's been taken out exactly matches his last bid, well ... gods, save me from idealistic fools." Shaking his head, Marik flipped down the screen to his pda with a snap.

Masetti simply shrugs, putting his hands up as if to say 'who can guess as to why', obviously confused.

Marik, on the other hand, shakes his head, chuckles, and mutters a single word under his breath.

"Scolopendrans ..."

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


To: Cadet Third Class Timofeyev M. J. Bondayehr

Well done, my little White Knight. I knew you would be successful. You have shown no small measure of honor, honesty, and class - not to mention that delicious sense of idealism and persistance your nation seems well known for.

I wish to thank you personally for your efforts, and, as agreed, to compensate you for your work. As per our informal contract. Yes my boy, in my country, acceptance and use of those funds does constitute a valid contract for all intents and purposes, as doing so showed your agreement to the offers made therein. This being the case, I have set up an account for your use, containing those funds.

Remember, that this is money you have rightfully earned, whether you believe this to be so or not. I will be compensating you as I would any other operative, and in addition, will be paying the promised bonus as you were successful in this mission.

Twenty-thousand workreps have been deposited as the standard salary. I do not pay by the hour, I pay by the job. An additional ten-thousand workreps have been deposited as the bonus for successful completion of the job. This is non-negotiable, as the amount of the bonus is at my discretion.

It is my hope that you may be able to benefit from these funds, regardless of your ingrained nature to do otherwise. In an effort to encourage that in some way, there is a withdrawl limit per week of twenty workreps. It will not prevent you from doing what you want with it, but it should at least slow your efforts in ridding yourself of it all, possibly giving you time to think it over.

As for your kind words, I am told the Lady thanks you. Your honesty and persistence I am told, have not gone unnoticed. Such dishonor, as you put it, is one of the unfortunate side effects of power - it makes one vulnerable to such attacks. She has weathered worse before, and no doubt will again, still - your efforts are appreciated. Your forms of address were more than adequate, boy. I doubt very much I could have managed half so well at your age when put in such an uncomfortable position, and I apologize for having put you in it. You have shown yourself to be a fine example of Scolopendran philosophy and beliefs. I hope that you can hold true to that.

--Nathi

<encoded bank account number included>

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


To: Foot-to-Ass Advisor Lance Hawke
The Federated Segments of Scolopendra

From: Nathicana D'Aquisto, The Dominion of DLN


It has come to my attention that a certain idealistic young cadet under your care has recently done me a service. While I realize it seems a trifling matter (ridiculous some might say, and they'd be right), his actions were honorable and of good intent, and I appreciate his efforts nonetheless.

I also realize that due to his nature, and his situation, that it will be difficult to convince him to accept an appropriate reward, especially I think, of a monetary nature. Nor would I wish to put him in a difficult position on account - I realize well enough that such efforts could be looked on askance, and the last thing I want is to cause the boy trouble. All the same, we have set up a bank account for his use in the amount of thirty-thousand workreps for services rendered, as agreed in the note that was sent. Knowing this in advance, from the source I thought would help clear up any issues that might result from it.

Perhaps if I might make a request? A temporary reassignment could work well for all involved. It would be an excellent opportunity for him (and thence, you) to get a look at the day to day workings of the upper eschelons of the Dominion government - much less riveting than it sounds - and gives me an excuse to observe a fine example of your nation firsthand. I'm certain we could arrange for whatever studies he needs to keep up on to be transferred if need be, with the understanding that he be given sufficient time to attend to them.

If you have a better suggestion, I am of course open to hearing it. I assure you, my aims are on the level with this. He seems a decent young man, and my plans for him involve a decidedly light workload, a relaxed locale, and plenty of good food, all expenses paid. It is the closest thing to a 'vacation' I think might be accepted.

And in closing, let me apologize for any undue stress and work this ridiculous episode may have caused you and your government, and that dear cadet of yours. I think we can all expect great things from him, yes? Ah - and do give my best to Speaker, Razak, and Kommetrez, if you would. I'm certain they've had a good chuckle over this fiasco as well.

With regard,

--Nathicana

The Apartment of Überness

Timofeyev leans back in his chair, running one hand over his clean-shaven chin, tapping it with an index finger. This was an old habit back from when he used to have a goatee, before joining the Military Services (even if it was only in a cadet role). I don't remember putting my full name on anything to the benefactor, not having any sort of communications back, except through Advisor Garbo... hrm...

Well, that would make sense. S.H.O.D.A.N. herself showed up to pick up the package, and if those two are as close as rumor has it, could've delivered it too. It would figure...

Checking the account, he nods. "Well, there I go. Still seems a bit much for what I did..."

Amark looks over his roommate's shoulder at the balance listing, then whistles. "Not bad, you slob. You gonna keep it?"

Bondayehr smirks. "No choice. Apparently the tax people have decided to qualify my sending back of the leftover cash as a tax benefit--orders from the top--so they aren't going to touch it, and this pretty polly is locked up to spill out twenty whirr a week. Lessee... thirty divided by twenty is one arr ten, one hundred divided by twenty is five, so that's one-point-five thousand weeks on subsistence."

"Dude," Amark chuckles, "you got lotteried. At least you know you can survive for thirty years if all else fails."

"Another interesting thing. Check the first line of this e-mail."

"Your first name... complete with title and initials... wait. You never use your initials."

"Except in official correspondence, like the letter I sent to the Dread Lady with The Package. I never used said initials with The Contact..."

"'Cause you couldn't reply to her." Amark grins. "Dude, that's awesome."

"Seems logical to me..." Timofeyev grins. "Yeah, it is pretty awesome."

* - * - *

The Executive Apartments

"Heh, check this out." Advisor Hawke taps the screen on his desk. "She knows how we are, doesn't she?"

"You've checked up on his courseload?" Razak folds his arms, half-smiling broadly as is his wont.

"Guilty as charged, Razak. Some tricky courses, but not an overload. Of course, being a cadet, there's mandatory PT and the PFT and Leadership Lab and all."

"We're talking about Nathi here, Lance." Razak chuckles. "She's in better shape than I am, and I still bust my ass in PT like back in the M.I.. I've seen it, out on safari. I don't think he'll have any trouble on that regard... and just like we let PE teachers perform cadet-applicant PFTs, we can do the same with her personal trainer or whatever. What's his grades in the officer training program?"

"High."

"Then distance-learn that too. From what his Det commander was saying, must not be too bad."

"Makes sense... now all I have to do is decide how long to a period to make the TCS orders for and come up with a suitable excuse."

"So you've already discussed distance-learning with the teachers?"

Hawke genuinely smiles. "Yep. Had to shift teachers to some who do SMS distance-work, but apparently they're better profs with lighter courseloads anyway. Even when he returns, our good Cadet will be doing distance-learning... but can drop in on the proffesors' offices if he likes. I'm keeping in the U of S for that."

"Good." Razak nods. "I'd make the orders out for the standard ninety days and then allow them to be appended 'at any time for any reason by authorized Triumvirate authorities.' You know who to put on the authorized list."

"All right." Hawke cackles mischeviously. "Ah, the benign abuse of power."

* - * - *

The Apartment of Überness

"Well, this is interesting."

"What?" Amark looks up from across the room, fiddling with his computer.

"Looks like I have to go down to the Detachment tomorrow to pick up new orders... Colonel Smith says its a Temporary Change of Station."

"Where to?" Amark raises an eyebrow slightly.

"The Dominion. Apparently I'm supposed to be some sort of cadet training liason or something. I didn't even know we had those."

"How long?"

"Standard ninety days, open to change. Apparently my classes and training have all been arranged."

"Saweet... I guess the game you're running is off then, eh?"

"I guess so."

* - * - *

Talk about instant celebrity status. First Scolopendran Independent News got a hold of it for human interest, and then it got on the YutLink... goodness. It was nearly frightening, posing for cover shots with nearly every major news magazine with his characteristic half-smirk. They asked for the half-smirk... which was just something unconscious that came up when he had to smile for the camera.

Odd. Simply odd. The trip, however, was interesting. Turns out that it was more efficient for the SMS to ship him out on a TYCS warship instead of the usual Demonessian Imperial Space Lanes civvie transport. Sure, it was just a Battle of Shiloh-class corvette, the Nemapogon, but, hell, it was still a warship. Completely awesome. Didn't see anything restricted, of course--so there were plenty of red lights and softly-sounding klaxons--but how many others could say that they got to wander about a fully-operational warship on patrol?

When it reached the Earth end of the corridor after a few days (to support the slower vessels in the convoy) he got a shuttle ride down to the Dominion in a standard Scarab. Again, really just a military-grade shuttle, but it was still a unique and thus extremely interesting experience.

* - * - *

The Dominion

Touching down as directed by Dominion air traffic control, the shuttle's grav engines hummed down to the point of inaudibility as Cadet Bondayehr steps out in freshly-pressed computer-generated smoke-cloud-pattern fatigues, waving to the pilot and copilot still in the cabin. Centering his cover on his head, brim down to protect his eyes from the sun, he looks around and does his best not to look overly lost as he slings his pack over his shoulders.

Well, back to Earth.

The Apartment of Überness

Timofeyev leans back in his chair, running one hand over his clean-shaven chin, tapping it with an index finger. This was an old habit back from when he used to have a goatee, before joining the Military Services (even if it was only in a cadet role). I don't remember putting my full name on anything to the benefactor, not having any sort of communications back, except through Advisor Garbo... hrm...

Well, that would make sense. S.H.O.D.A.N. herself showed up to pick up the package, and if those two are as close as rumor has it, could've delivered it too. It would figure...

Checking the account, he nods. "Well, there I go. Still seems a bit much for what I did..."

Amark looks over his roommate's shoulder at the balance listing, then whistles. "Not bad, you slob. You gonna keep it?"

Bondayehr smirks. "No choice. Apparently the tax people have decided to qualify my sending back of the leftover cash as a tax benefit--orders from the top--so they aren't going to touch it, and this pretty polly is locked up to spill out twenty whirr a week. Lessee... thirty divided by twenty is one arr ten, one hundred divided by twenty is five, so that's one-point-five thousand weeks on subsistence."

"Dude," Amark chuckles, "you got lotteried. At least you know you can survive for thirty years if all else fails."

"Another interesting thing. Check the first line of this e-mail."

"Your first name... complete with title and initials... wait. You never use your initials."

"Except in official correspondence, like the letter I sent to the Dread Lady with The Package. I never used said initials with The Contact..."

"'Cause you couldn't reply to her." Amark grins. "Dude, that's awesome."

"Seems logical to me..." Timofeyev grins. "Yeah, it is pretty awesome."

* - * - *

The Executive Apartments

"Heh, check this out." Advisor Hawke taps the screen on his desk. "She knows how we are, doesn't she?"

"You've checked up on his courseload?" Razak folds his arms, half-smiling broadly as is his wont.

"Guilty as charged, Razak. Some tricky courses, but not an overload. Of course, being a cadet, there's mandatory PT and the PFT and Leadership Lab and all."

"We're talking about Nathi here, Lance." Razak chuckles. "She's in better shape than I am, and I still bust my ass in PT like back in the M.I.. I've seen it, out on safari. I don't think he'll have any trouble on that regard... and just like we let PE teachers perform cadet-applicant PFTs, we can do the same with her personal trainer or whatever. What's his grades in the officer training program?"

"High."

"Then distance-learn that too. From what his Det commander was saying, must not be too bad."

"Makes sense... now all I have to do is decide how long to a period to make the TCS orders for and come up with a suitable excuse."

"So you've already discussed distance-learning with the teachers?"

Hawke genuinely smiles. "Yep. Had to shift teachers to some who do SMS distance-work, but apparently they're better profs with lighter courseloads anyway. Even when he returns, our good Cadet will be doing distance-learning... but can drop in on the proffesors' offices if he likes. I'm keeping in the U of S for that."

"Good." Razak nods. "I'd make the orders out for the standard ninety days and then allow them to be appended 'at any time for any reason by authorized Triumvirate authorities.' You know who to put on the authorized list."

"All right." Hawke cackles mischeviously. "Ah, the benign abuse of power."

* - * - *

The Apartment of Überness

"Well, this is interesting."

"What?" Amark looks up from across the room, fiddling with his computer.

"Looks like I have to go down to the Detachment tomorrow to pick up new orders... Colonel Smith says its a Temporary Change of Station."

"Where to?" Amark raises an eyebrow slightly.

"The Dominion. Apparently I'm supposed to be some sort of cadet training liason or something. I didn't even know we had those."

"How long?"

"Standard ninety days, open to change. Apparently my classes and training have all been arranged."

"Saweet... I guess the game you're running is off then, eh?"

"I guess so."

* - * - *

Talk about instant celebrity status. First Scolopendran Independent News got a hold of it for human interest, and then it got on the YutLink... goodness. It was nearly frightening, posing for cover shots with nearly every major news magazine with his characteristic half-smirk. They asked for the half-smirk... which was just something unconscious that came up when he had to smile for the camera.

Odd. Simply odd. The trip, however, was interesting. Turns out that it was more efficient for the SMS to ship him out on a TYCS warship instead of the usual Demonessian Imperial Space Lanes civvie transport. Sure, it was just a Battle of Shiloh-class corvette, the Nemapogon, but, hell, it was still a warship. Completely awesome. Didn't see anything restricted, of course--so there were plenty of red lights and softly-sounding klaxons--but how many others could say that they got to wander about a fully-operational warship on patrol?

When it reached the Earth end of the corridor after a few days (to support the slower vessels in the convoy) he got a shuttle ride down to the Dominion in a standard Scarab. Again, really just a military-grade shuttle, but it was still a unique and thus extremely interesting experience.

* - * - *

The Dominion

Touching down as directed by Dominion air traffic control, the shuttle's grav engines hummed down to the point of inaudibility as Cadet Bondayehr steps out in freshly-pressed computer-generated smoke-cloud-pattern fatigues, waving to the pilot and copilot still in the cabin. Centering his cover on his head, brim down to protect his eyes from the sun, he looks around and does his best not to look overly lost as he slings his pack over his shoulders.

Well, back to Earth.

Emanuel Romero sat in his spartan office quietly reading over morning intelligence reports, sipping at a large, steaming mug of Xikuangese green tea. As he shuffled through the reams of paper, which quickly spilled over the edges of the oak desk onto the bare wooden flooring, he paused suddenly, adjusting his reading glasses and scanning the report in question meticulously. Without warning, the normally taciturn man burst into raucous laughter.

The Prime Minister's secretary, Valentina Goldman, fairly lept up from her seat outside the office.
"Comrade Romero, is everything alright?" she asked, peering through the cracked door, her brow creased with worry. Gasping for breath and re-mounting his overstuffed armchair, which he had somehow managed to slide out of, Romero gestured reassuringly.
"Oh, Marx! Yes, it's quite alright, Comrade Goldman. You really should have a look at this, though. I haven't had such a laugh in ages!" He handed her the single sheet, at the top of which was printed in heavy block letters, 'International Row over Nathicana Panty Auction'.
"Oh, so THIS is the sort of thing the NDA busies itself with. Hmm ... maybe we haven't as much to fear from them as we thought." As she closed the door to the Prime Minister's office to resume her morning's work, the secretary was startled by a loud thump, followed closely by another outrageous session of belly-laughing.

Earlier, at the Villa

"What an incredibly thoughtful gift," she said, her eyes travelling over the fine lines of the cabinet, fingers toying with the sunburst locks, grinning impishly. "And damnably useful as well. Most excellent ... and gods, it's solid! What the hell sort of theiving housekeepers do they have over there, I wonder?"




To Lord Markum of the Outer islands,

Greetings. I thank you for your kind words, mi'lord, and for the most generous and beautiful gift. It was certainly not necessary of you to put yourself out so on account of my own poor choice of employees. I assure you the matter has been remedied, and those in my employ are being reviewed, and monitored at present.

As for the gift, it is indeed a beautiful piece of work, and again, I thank you for it. It looks fabulous where I've set it up at my villa. Where you managed to track down such an ingenious little device, I'll never know, but it is much appreciated.

The greedy who seek to pilfer such ... items in the future, I'm afraid, will find themselves doubly disappointed I think, now. Thank you again for your concern, and consideration.

With regard,

--Nathicana D'Aquisto of the Dominion


The New Kid in Town

Nathicana stepped out of the Bentley, dressed in a plain but tasteful double-breasted black suit combo, in the latest Dominion cut. Taking the dark sunglasses off, and tucking them neatly into her front pocket, she walked up to the young cadet with a brilliant smile, hand extended in greeting.

"Buon giorno, il mio Cavaliere Bianco. Welcome to the Dominion. Please," she said, gesturing to the car. "For now, consider yourself off-duty, and free to ask any questions you like. I hope to make you as comfortable as possible during your stay."

She took in his bearing, his looks, his reactions, quietly weighing and measuring, as she always did, all behind a pleasant smile that she truly felt.

Continued... (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2583788#2583788)

Of course, the returned letter was a bit of daming evidence.

The ISD man just looked at the letter and back at the young man sitting naked on the end of the massive four poster bed. The maid could be heard in the bathroom pulling the sheet around the tiled floor as she tried to find her clothes that were strewn about there.

"Your telling me that for no apparent reason, you sent a customized dual combination document safe to the Dominion."

"The Lady was having a problem with the pilfering of her...undergarments." The nude man said meekly.

The ISD man just raised an eyebrow and looked at the letter again.

"Your telling me that the Dread Lady of the Dominion is having some nit of a servant pilfering her knickers."

"Yes..."

"And How did you by chance find this out?"

"I saw the auction actually"
The ISD man was from Internal so he hadn't even seen the action reports

"Oh, and how much did the said underware go for?"

"About 12.4 million Krondor"

The ISD man just boggled for a moment, I never thought anyone bought those million dollar things from Victoria's Secret but...well now I know who does...

"So you gave her a document safe?"

"No something to keep her underware from...well being misplaced"

"So you gave her a Panty Safe?"

The young Lord realized this was his opening, well unless they found the files about his illegal trading activity. "Yes, I gave Nathicana D'Aquisto of the Dominion the world's first known panty safe."

Killthanus read the enforcement report with almost as much disbelief as the original alert from the Dominion itself. He reread it once, twice. Finally sure its contents wouldn't change or bring more understanding with a third attempt, he placed the datanode on the desk.


Nothing.


Thats what the Aengelistorium Enforcia had found when they had finally investigated the alleged location of a rather personnal auction.


The walls were damp, rickety with age and lack of care. The floor was stooped with dirtied, obscuring sheets of cloth that hid items of low value and bordering on the worthless. A few, inactive and obsolete glowrods hung from the roof, amongst a miasma of cloudy dust that hung in the air, lazily.

Rotting chairs, long since fallen or collapsed from their originally neat and precise rows, stood silently. Ahead, on a central stage area, a podium stood. Immediatley obvious was its smooth finish, and glistening, artificial gem-like borders. This unit had not bolonged to this warehouse for the ages its other assorted contents had.

But, of those who would take part, and of the organiser himself nothing was obvious.


Killthanus shrugged. He could do no more, and was inclined to simply let it be. Dominion relations were satisfactory, and he hoped that those would realise the Serene^Union obviously had not authorised this shambles.


Turning his thoughts afar, the Datanode was filed, and took place amongst the thousands before, and perhaps after.





*-*





Daniel drew his collar over his chin as he felt the stinging irritation of rain begin beating down on him from above. Hurriedly, he exited Lianna gravport, taking no time or care to avoid those he pushed through or aside. Taking a glance back, he felt an odd sense of worry. He knew that there was nothing in the way of incriminating evidence linking the auctionhouse to him, and that the Enforcia would, should leave it to rest.

Daniel wished nothing more than this, and made all speed towards his small, cramped habitation block. A smile broke on his features, a contrast to his frown earlier.


I need a new line of work.