10-03-2019, 06:01 AM
Jonestown, Bjeorg
August 1st, 1991 - Early Morning
The sun's first rays brightened the dense fog that had descended on the city. With a curfew in place, only one car was able to witness the beautiful reflections of the sun off the fog. This little black sedan was driving purposefully across the city. Its occupants were on a mission: to avoid a catastrophe.
Brian Smith was fidgeting in the back seat of the car. He had done quite a lot of driving in the past 48 hours and his legs were starting to feel it. Smith might also have been fidgeting as a result of thinking too hardly about what he was about to have to do. Smith had somehow let himself be cornered and he had no idea how. Simon didn't have the same bloodlust as his predecessor, but what he lacked in bloodlust, he made up for in intelligence. Simon had managed to effectively check mate all involved parties in only 24 hours. This thought left Smith shaking in his seat.
"How could I be so blind?" Smith inquired to no one in particular. "The damned airfields. The goddamn airfields!" Smith cursed out loud once more before going quiet for a long while. He needed to figure out exactly what the best way to word what he was soon to say.
No sooner had Smith's car arrived at its destination, a public radio broadcasting studio, then Smith decided on the exact wording of what he wanted to say. He and two bodyguards exited the sedan and walked up to the doors of the studio. Everything had already been arranged and set up, Smith simply had to talk.
Governor Smith was greeted by an elderly studio executive who grasped his hand with both of her hands and shook. The executive then began assaulting Smith with dozens of difficult questions. Quickly growing tired of the interrogation, Smith pushed past the woman and walked into the actual studio after a short time. Smith had a purpose and he intended to fulfill his purpose. He was handed a headset immediately upon entering the claustrophobic recording room. After putting the headset on and taking a seat at a chair he had been ushered into, Smith was again assaulted by numerous questions from the studio crew.
This was all making Smith horribly furious. Why did they think he had all the answers? Why did they think he was in control of the situation. Smith was just as lost as the general public. No one was in control, that was the simple truth of it. Paterson was unquestionably in a state of self-doubt. After all, she was effectively fighting a war as LOM against what she considered to still be LOM, and was loosing. The Eirians were nautically outmatched and their infantry was sitting around doing nothing but waiting for the Maximusians and Zamastanians to press their attack. Smith could state with complete certainty that no leader held all the cards at present.
Smith's train of though was interrupted by the voice of a young woman stating: "We are on the air in 60 seconds." A clock on the massive panel in front of Smith began counting down. 59...58...57
Smith looked to his left and noticed the young man who had taken a seat next to him. The man was fiddling with the panel, probably adjusting audio settings or some other technological endeavor that was well beyond the grasp of Smith.
41...40...39
As the digital clock began ticking down the seconds until Smith would be addressing his fledgling nation-state (or, at least, anyone who was listening to the 7:00 AM radio, tuned to 98.7), his pulse began to quicken. He had but moments remaining before the words that left his mouth might have historical significance in a few years.
23...22...21
Simon. That single name suddenly hit Smith harder than any bullet. He held all of the cards, he was just playing one today. Simon was the only guaranteed "survivor" of this debacle of an independence movement. Paterson was sunk. No matter the outcome of the war, her career in politics was over. She would spend the rest of her life giving half-attended guest lectures at universities. Smith knew he was a goner. The thing was, he would probably actually die. The Maximusian court system was not overly kind to traitors. Simon could always lurk in the shadows.
That was his power, Smith realized with a start, Simon was head of an organization that was beholden to no one. No one could capture him because no one knew who he was. Simon was almost certainly not his real name. Smith took a deep breath. He been wrong about his purpose in the movement. He, Governor Brian Smith, was the figurehead. His purpose was to lead the nation as best as he could for as long as he could. After a time, though, he would serve as the fall guy. Such was always the fate of a head of state. That was the natural order of things. Smith was not the savior, he was the face of the independence movement. Ultimately, Smith mused, Simon would be the savior of the movement. He would be the savior because he didn't have to be the "face" of anything.
9...8...7
The speech Smith was about to have to give wouldn't need to change much. The change would come in time, and mostly in the form of a change Simon and Smith's interactions. Brian Smith would be needing a face to face conference with the elusive Simon in the very near future. With that in said, Smith had a duty, an extremely important purpose, and Smith intended to fulfill that purpose to the fullest extent.
4...3...2
Smith straitened his back and faced the man sitting next to him. He gave the man a thumbs up and smiled. A light flashed. Lights went on and off in mesmerizing patterns.
"...and we are... live!" the young woman exclaimed suddenly.
August 1st, 1991 - Early Morning
The sun's first rays brightened the dense fog that had descended on the city. With a curfew in place, only one car was able to witness the beautiful reflections of the sun off the fog. This little black sedan was driving purposefully across the city. Its occupants were on a mission: to avoid a catastrophe.
Brian Smith was fidgeting in the back seat of the car. He had done quite a lot of driving in the past 48 hours and his legs were starting to feel it. Smith might also have been fidgeting as a result of thinking too hardly about what he was about to have to do. Smith had somehow let himself be cornered and he had no idea how. Simon didn't have the same bloodlust as his predecessor, but what he lacked in bloodlust, he made up for in intelligence. Simon had managed to effectively check mate all involved parties in only 24 hours. This thought left Smith shaking in his seat.
"How could I be so blind?" Smith inquired to no one in particular. "The damned airfields. The goddamn airfields!" Smith cursed out loud once more before going quiet for a long while. He needed to figure out exactly what the best way to word what he was soon to say.
No sooner had Smith's car arrived at its destination, a public radio broadcasting studio, then Smith decided on the exact wording of what he wanted to say. He and two bodyguards exited the sedan and walked up to the doors of the studio. Everything had already been arranged and set up, Smith simply had to talk.
Governor Smith was greeted by an elderly studio executive who grasped his hand with both of her hands and shook. The executive then began assaulting Smith with dozens of difficult questions. Quickly growing tired of the interrogation, Smith pushed past the woman and walked into the actual studio after a short time. Smith had a purpose and he intended to fulfill his purpose. He was handed a headset immediately upon entering the claustrophobic recording room. After putting the headset on and taking a seat at a chair he had been ushered into, Smith was again assaulted by numerous questions from the studio crew.
This was all making Smith horribly furious. Why did they think he had all the answers? Why did they think he was in control of the situation. Smith was just as lost as the general public. No one was in control, that was the simple truth of it. Paterson was unquestionably in a state of self-doubt. After all, she was effectively fighting a war as LOM against what she considered to still be LOM, and was loosing. The Eirians were nautically outmatched and their infantry was sitting around doing nothing but waiting for the Maximusians and Zamastanians to press their attack. Smith could state with complete certainty that no leader held all the cards at present.
Smith's train of though was interrupted by the voice of a young woman stating: "We are on the air in 60 seconds." A clock on the massive panel in front of Smith began counting down. 59...58...57
Smith looked to his left and noticed the young man who had taken a seat next to him. The man was fiddling with the panel, probably adjusting audio settings or some other technological endeavor that was well beyond the grasp of Smith.
41...40...39
As the digital clock began ticking down the seconds until Smith would be addressing his fledgling nation-state (or, at least, anyone who was listening to the 7:00 AM radio, tuned to 98.7), his pulse began to quicken. He had but moments remaining before the words that left his mouth might have historical significance in a few years.
23...22...21
Simon. That single name suddenly hit Smith harder than any bullet. He held all of the cards, he was just playing one today. Simon was the only guaranteed "survivor" of this debacle of an independence movement. Paterson was sunk. No matter the outcome of the war, her career in politics was over. She would spend the rest of her life giving half-attended guest lectures at universities. Smith knew he was a goner. The thing was, he would probably actually die. The Maximusian court system was not overly kind to traitors. Simon could always lurk in the shadows.
That was his power, Smith realized with a start, Simon was head of an organization that was beholden to no one. No one could capture him because no one knew who he was. Simon was almost certainly not his real name. Smith took a deep breath. He been wrong about his purpose in the movement. He, Governor Brian Smith, was the figurehead. His purpose was to lead the nation as best as he could for as long as he could. After a time, though, he would serve as the fall guy. Such was always the fate of a head of state. That was the natural order of things. Smith was not the savior, he was the face of the independence movement. Ultimately, Smith mused, Simon would be the savior of the movement. He would be the savior because he didn't have to be the "face" of anything.
9...8...7
The speech Smith was about to have to give wouldn't need to change much. The change would come in time, and mostly in the form of a change Simon and Smith's interactions. Brian Smith would be needing a face to face conference with the elusive Simon in the very near future. With that in said, Smith had a duty, an extremely important purpose, and Smith intended to fulfill that purpose to the fullest extent.
4...3...2
Smith straitened his back and faced the man sitting next to him. He gave the man a thumbs up and smiled. A light flashed. Lights went on and off in mesmerizing patterns.
"...and we are... live!" the young woman exclaimed suddenly.