10-01-2024, 12:07 AM
“Intriguing,” Javier Flynn said, taking a sip of his beer while reading the invitation from Neina Arana. “I expect Averforth and Pavía are on the verge of having a pair of strokes right about now. Pity about Pavía, really; she’s not a bad looker.”
The True Communist Movement’s twenty-something Headquarters Intern (read: lackey), Moreno Vigo, wisely remained silent. He had only been doing the job for five weeks, but he had already become well-acquainted with Flynn’s proclivities. There was a reason the NCM’s HR person preferred to hire male interns. He would not want to be Neina Arana, if Flynn did decide to attend this conference.
“Do you think our government would try to stop us going?” asked Rico Olguín, an eighty-year-old staunch Communist sitting in the corner, before devolving into a coughing fit.
“Not if they do not want to look like hypocrites,” Flynn mused, tapping on his beer while continuing to peruse the invitation. “And I see that Agramunt hasn’t been invited. Good; that alone tells us much about Arana. She is a surprisingly good leader. Like I thought Charissa was. Ah, if only she had been real.”
Flynn was well-known for having had an affair with “Charissa Clarke”, the former wartime Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria who had been revealed to be an Aurora; a member of a Kerlian sleeper agent programme. Her true name was not Charissa Clarke; who did not in fact exist. That hadn’t stopped Flynn from daydreaming about what could have been, if the fake persona she had adopted had been real.
“You going?” asked Julia Sastre, the only woman in the room, a muscly thirty-something with a large hammer-and-sickle tattoo on her arm, and a scar on her face from something that happened in the Civil War. Flynn did not bother her any longer; the only time he tried, she’d had him pinned on the ground before anyone could blink. Plus, she carried at least one knife, probably four.
“Yes, yes I think I will,” Flynn chuckled softly.
*
“… which is why we need to sanction Milintica immediately!” Pavía stated loudly, slapping her hand on the table in front of her to embellish her point.
The rest of the Lauchenoirian cabinet sat around waiting for her to finish. They had heard this speech before. They’d heard it every day since the election Neina Arana had allegedly won. Pavía’s position had consistently been that the election was a fix, that there was no way she organically gained that much support; and everything that had happened since had only cemented that view.
“We simply do not have proof that the election was illegitimate,” said the Economy and Finance Secretary, Eric Terrazas, a Conservative who had been urging caution.
“We’re working on that,” piped up the Secretary for Defence, Ruben Bernat, another Conservative.
“Yes, I am well aware you are attempting to source some proof that may or may not exist, and spending more than you should be on such a matter,” snapped Terrazas.
“Calm,” the Prime Minister, Thomas Averforth, urged. They settled down. One could say much about Averforth, but he had a very calming voice. In a one-on-one conversation, he always sounded perfectly reasonable. It was only after, when you got home, that you realised he had somehow talked you into nodding along for policies you would never truly support in reality.
“We are all very passionate about this issue,” he spoke, much more softly than the others, but somehow still at the same volume. “It is normal for that to raise our tempers. But we must consider both sides. Sandra, I know that you are in favour of taking action against Milintica, but it is not time for that yet. Eric, the amount of spending on election investigation is a drop in the ocean of the budget for that area. I know that we are fiscal conservatives, but we are not anarchists or libertarians. We still believe in the existence of government, and thus some things will need to be funded.”
“If it’s not time yet, what do we do?” Pavía asked.
“We simply wait and see. So far, she has been all talk. There is nothing – no, not even this conference – she has done as of yet which has actually caused measurable harm to anyone; except perhaps your blood pressure, Sandra. The Eirians and Huenyans are also watching, and if she attempts to make good on some of these threats of hers – for that is what her talk of interventions and exporting communism are – then it will be time to act. For now, let us move on to our next agenda item.”
The True Communist Movement’s twenty-something Headquarters Intern (read: lackey), Moreno Vigo, wisely remained silent. He had only been doing the job for five weeks, but he had already become well-acquainted with Flynn’s proclivities. There was a reason the NCM’s HR person preferred to hire male interns. He would not want to be Neina Arana, if Flynn did decide to attend this conference.
“Do you think our government would try to stop us going?” asked Rico Olguín, an eighty-year-old staunch Communist sitting in the corner, before devolving into a coughing fit.
“Not if they do not want to look like hypocrites,” Flynn mused, tapping on his beer while continuing to peruse the invitation. “And I see that Agramunt hasn’t been invited. Good; that alone tells us much about Arana. She is a surprisingly good leader. Like I thought Charissa was. Ah, if only she had been real.”
Flynn was well-known for having had an affair with “Charissa Clarke”, the former wartime Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria who had been revealed to be an Aurora; a member of a Kerlian sleeper agent programme. Her true name was not Charissa Clarke; who did not in fact exist. That hadn’t stopped Flynn from daydreaming about what could have been, if the fake persona she had adopted had been real.
“You going?” asked Julia Sastre, the only woman in the room, a muscly thirty-something with a large hammer-and-sickle tattoo on her arm, and a scar on her face from something that happened in the Civil War. Flynn did not bother her any longer; the only time he tried, she’d had him pinned on the ground before anyone could blink. Plus, she carried at least one knife, probably four.
“Yes, yes I think I will,” Flynn chuckled softly.
*
“… which is why we need to sanction Milintica immediately!” Pavía stated loudly, slapping her hand on the table in front of her to embellish her point.
The rest of the Lauchenoirian cabinet sat around waiting for her to finish. They had heard this speech before. They’d heard it every day since the election Neina Arana had allegedly won. Pavía’s position had consistently been that the election was a fix, that there was no way she organically gained that much support; and everything that had happened since had only cemented that view.
“We simply do not have proof that the election was illegitimate,” said the Economy and Finance Secretary, Eric Terrazas, a Conservative who had been urging caution.
“We’re working on that,” piped up the Secretary for Defence, Ruben Bernat, another Conservative.
“Yes, I am well aware you are attempting to source some proof that may or may not exist, and spending more than you should be on such a matter,” snapped Terrazas.
“Calm,” the Prime Minister, Thomas Averforth, urged. They settled down. One could say much about Averforth, but he had a very calming voice. In a one-on-one conversation, he always sounded perfectly reasonable. It was only after, when you got home, that you realised he had somehow talked you into nodding along for policies you would never truly support in reality.
“We are all very passionate about this issue,” he spoke, much more softly than the others, but somehow still at the same volume. “It is normal for that to raise our tempers. But we must consider both sides. Sandra, I know that you are in favour of taking action against Milintica, but it is not time for that yet. Eric, the amount of spending on election investigation is a drop in the ocean of the budget for that area. I know that we are fiscal conservatives, but we are not anarchists or libertarians. We still believe in the existence of government, and thus some things will need to be funded.”
“If it’s not time yet, what do we do?” Pavía asked.
“We simply wait and see. So far, she has been all talk. There is nothing – no, not even this conference – she has done as of yet which has actually caused measurable harm to anyone; except perhaps your blood pressure, Sandra. The Eirians and Huenyans are also watching, and if she attempts to make good on some of these threats of hers – for that is what her talk of interventions and exporting communism are – then it will be time to act. For now, let us move on to our next agenda item.”
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax