Guns and Will [Closed, MT, ATTN: Kylarnatia]

[Socorra]

---

Artist's sketch of the proposed design for the Gran Ferrocarril project.

LA TRINIDAD - The Secretariat for Infrastructure yesterday unveiled new plans for the modernisation of the National Railways in a $2bn contract with the Kylarnatian corporation Philae Railway. The new railway, dubbed the Gran Ferrocarril, will wholly replace the current network by 2014 and create 50,000 jobs over its two-year construction - more than halving Socorra's rising 10% unemployment rate. Despite praise for Philae's 'effective deal', prominent politicians have condemned the deal as 'reminiscent of gothocapitalism', as the project was described by Socialist leader Eladio Pavian.

Pavian, addressing the annual Socialist convention at the Cerveza Sagrada beer-garden, said, "Socorra cannot welcome the revival of gothocapitalism within our lands, as this supposed high-speed railway represents. This railway will not transport people or goods, but Freekishmen and their rifles! Kravenites and their bloodthirst! Milogradians and their cacophonous sickness! No, we must condemn these plans and let our anger known in the most brutal form known to man; that of protest of the word, of the thought! We must take to the page, with our pens, and let President Salvador Cuevas tremble under the weight of a thousand letters!"

Nonetheless, leading Agustino figures have defended the railway, with foreign minister and brother of the late President Anacleto Crespo, Amerigo Crespo, saying, "This railway will not transport Freekishmen, Kravenites or Milogradians; rather, it will transport their guns, tanks and munitions. Additionally, Freekish and Gothic civilian materiel will flow through the railway like water, but without electrocuting the rail wires and doing serious damage to passengers, and will be the first step of the New Plan to redevelop Socorra. The frothy liquid of commerce will subjugate the barren liquid of technological disparity once more! The corporate froth will seep through our ports, its briny foam bringing all the nations to our homeland with their guns and...will. As Socorrans, we will sing the praise of the foam once more! We will drink the froth of corporations! We will be seeping joyously with the bloody embers of free trade!"

The Gran Ferrocarril will have eighteen stations, ten at coastal cities. The old railway's focus upon now-depleted mines will not feature, with Philae CEO Josephine Hammond saying, "The Socorran mining industry has been non-existent for decades and basing the Gran Ferrocarril on it would be economically crippling for Socorra. President Cuevas seeks to industrialise his homeland, and knowing this it is imperative that we adjust our plans to accommodate demand for rapid transport to towns, where any Socorran manufacturing sector will be based. Furthermore, an industrialised Socorra will undergo dramatic changes to a service-dominant economy within a generation and therefore must have the institutions and machinery prepared for two dramatic restructurisations of its society."

Cuevas' rapid industrialisation plan, enabled by Gothic investment, will oversee the rebirth of Socorra from an agriarian- to manufacturing-based economy. The External Secretariat's emphasis of Socorra's strategic location has enabled the government's 'Bolts for Bases' doctrine, meaning Gothic states or other entities will be able to claim naval basing rights with a $10bn investment in Socorra. Cuevas was elected by the Council of Deputies last month after the death of President Anacleto Crespo, whose 33-year Emergency Government imposed ultra-protectionism due to Crespo's philosophy of autarkism, which emphasised national and individual self-reliance. Cuevas, the first non-merchant president since 1927, has already destroyed autarkist influence in Socorra and inaugurated a new era based upon 'cultural, economic, political, social' modernisation that promises a 'pan-Gothic society' within ten years.

Cuevas himself has faced opposition across society, with agustino and extremist unrest rising with each new policy. Nonetheless, the Gran Ferrocarril is the first shot in liberalising Socorra - whether it will last is the question.

[Kylarnatia]

Calle Escuela Street, La Rosa District, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
12:41pm Local Time (GMT+12)

The street was well crowded. Under-graduates and people just trying to survive shoved past each other, this being the 'School Street', one of the very few places one could succeed in life if they had lived in Socorra. The whole state was weak and fragile, and almost in a state of disrepair in some places. The Imperium Antiquum Kylarnatiae had traded with this nation years ago, back when it first came out of isolation in the 70's, as a way to introduce itself back onto the stage. However, when the Socorra trading market collapsed, Kylarnatia moved on and looked elsewhere. Yet in an almost surprising move, Caesar Silvier Catherina Hyuga had a private meeting with some of Kylarnatia's top business CEOs, and convinced them to all think of investing in Socorra, the first to be the Philae Railway Company. But why the Caesar wished to do this, nobody knew, not even the majority of the government. There was obviously more at play.

In one of the dark and trashed alleyways of the high street, three tall men, all around 7'2", stood together in the shadows. They wore long black trench coats that went over their black suit, the only different colour being the crisp white of their shirt. Accompanied by black jackboots, a black military-style cap and gloves, the entire thing was topped off by the metallic mask they wore, with shades sitting on the ridges of their noses. They were strange individuals, but kept out of sight in the darkness of the alley, and just quietly studied the crowds as they passed. They were like disorganised ants, in their minds, and they looked down to them as lesser beings, a lesser unit. But they were here to do a very important job, by Imperial Decree no less, so they couldn't underestimate those around them.

A young boy stood with them. He was one of them, with tattered clothes and barely any footwear. He was shaking, as if he was scared, but he showed no sign of being assaulted or harmed. One of the towering figures looked down to the little boy, and spoke to the him with a voice that carried with a cold indifference, "You know the plan, boy?"

The boy nodded and immediately ran off into the crowd, and as he did, the three men looked to each other then moved off through the alleyways in what seemed to be another direction. Meanwhile, the boy they'd sent off weaved through the crowd like an ace footballer on a pitch, as that was what he aspired to be. Moving down the High Street, he came to a Café at one corner which was called the 'Casa de Café', and he immediately stopped outside of it and seemed to look around, through the windows, to see if there was someone inside. He did so for a while, then moved in doors, where he looked around some more. Eventually, he came to spot a man talking amongst a group of others. Like one of those guys who wore suits, in the mind of the child.

"Mr. Tomas! Mr. Tomas!" He called out to the man, his English not very clear or well pronounced, "Mr. Tomas! Mr. Tomas! You must come quickly, my boss wishes to speak with you!"

The young boy pulled a note out of his pocket, and placed it on the table. Inside it read:

Mr. Tomas Villaverde,

I'm interested in bartering with you. Your usual place of business is too open for us to speak, so please follow my boy. I'm willing to pay up to $10,000,000. Do not pass up this opportunity, as I can guarantee you you'll regret it if you do.

Regards,

~ x

"Quickly, Mr. Tomas! You must come!"

[Socorra]

After a two-mile walk, you don't think straight. Your eyes are used to the cobbled ground, and for a few minutes are like a faulty camera; they magnify some things and blur others, or tinge the sea green and the sky red. You wonder if there's mescaline in the air, though these fleeting thoughts scatter with a bitter espresso. I'd come to the coffee-house Escuela de Calor - really Casa de Café, but no one called it that - not for business - that was always done before noon - but to meet Jacqui, the waitress here, and without a car I'd had to walk. Initially, doubt had left me hovering just outside the cafe, though as always Jacqui came over with a smile and offered me a seat, and asked what I'd want; a double shot of espresso. She'd bring it, grinning, and I could tell the undertones of her smile; she didn't grin like that for anyone else, not so her dimples - which she was might've been embarrassed about, knowing women - were visible. I mumbled a reply and she left, working.

I was mouthing curses when some boy came up to me, a bit thin and dark-skinned in a Club Trinidad jersey; shouting Señor Tomas! Señor Tomas! He knew who I was, and for a while he was lectured on the confidentiality of meetings with me; however, my arms wrapped around him when the note was read. My espresso went down like lightning then, and he took me across the street to a dingy alleyway that smelt of dead dog; this is the meeting place, señor, I lie to you not.

Three men in black stood in the corner, and before my eyes met theirs there was already an increasingly solid stream of shit falling down my arse. Yes, reader, for once in his lifetime Tomas Villaverde was unsure, and therefore he'd just shit himself. However, the dead-dog smell mingled with the scared-shit stench to form one indistinguishable, nauseous poison. It was the acidic, putrid taste of vomit in my throat that warranted my lack of greeting, and so we all stood there awkwardly for a while.

[Kylarnatia]

Calle Escuela Street, La Rosa District, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
1:28pm Local Time (GMT+12)

The three tall men waited still in the alleyway where they'd sent off the the child. They said nothing to each other for those passing minutes in the shadows, thinking only about their aims and intentions. They'd been sent to interrogate Tomas Villaverde, the prominent arms dealer in Puerto del Salvador, but more importantly, the brother of the Socorran Defence Minister Roque Villaverde. Interrogate Tomas Villaverde, and find Roque. That was their first task, and one that continuously went around in their heads. But nothing much else went on, having stood their like statues for the hour that passed. Eventually, the footsteps of the young boy came from up the street, and they all looked to their right at the opening into the street as the boy came down with the gentlemen, Tomas. They all focused in on him like a bunch of vultures, although it couldn't be seen due to the masks which covered their faces.

Standing before the man, who was small to them in comparison, the Black Staff Agent at the front of the trio quickly revealed the 'Negotiator', a slightly down-charged cattle prod, from his side and struck Tomas with it to the side of the neck. Catching him as he fell down cold, he and another one of the Agents began to take him away. The little boy looked on in disdain, not knowing this would happen, and even began to fear what the other remaining Agent would possibly do to him. The Agent looked down to the boy with a cold stare from behind his mask, but from a box sitting atop a dumpster in the alleyway, he pulled out a shiny new football and a new club shirt for Club Trinidad. The young lad seemed to scream with delight as he took his reward and quickly departed, having completely forgotten what he'd witnessed. The Agent watched him go, and then made his way to follow his brethren with their now captured target.

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:16pm Local Time (GMT+12)

A bright light shone on the face of Tomas Villaverde, who was slumped unconscious on a chair, his hands and legs simply tied. The room was clear white, like a hospital room, but there was no different colour. It even burned looking around after a while. In the centre was a simple table, and two chairs. One of them was occupied by the unconscious Tomas, the other was on the other side of the table. Finally, there was one clock on the wall, and its tick-tock echoed throughout the silent room. If one were to sit in silence in the room for hours on end, they'd surly go mad due to the clock, which was out of reach.

Eventually, the ticking of the tock was interrupted by the entry of the three tall men in black. They looked at Tomas Villaverde, then looked to each other one by one, with a slow transition. One carried a medium-sized folder, labelled 'Tomas Villaverde', and as he went and sat down on the other chair he threw down the folder on the table, creating a loud bang. This should have been enough to wake Tomas from his hours of unconsciousness. Sitting and waiting for his counterparts to stand at either side of Villaverde, the Black Staff Agent looked at the young man. He expressed no emotion, his face being perfectly hidden by his mask. Then suddenly, his voice erupted.

"Mr. Tomas Villaverde. I'm Black Staff Agent 00589, and you're going to answer all the questions which I ask..." His voice was deep and cold. His eyes trailed down to the folder as he broke the seal and opened it, flicking through some of the pages. He would pay no attention to Tomas as he looked at the folder, only interested in the answers he gave.

"You're a prominent arms dealer in Peurto del Salvador...and the brother of the Defence Minister. Tell me, Mr. Villaverde, who are the clients?"

[Socorra]

Black Staff Agent Zero-Zero, well honestly I forget the rest, stared at me. He wore sunglasses, but his stare still shot of them; a fresh two-ounce shit joined their brothers, and suddenly the putrid stench filling the room surrounded me. The guy must've wanted to vomit, but he didn't move; was he a robot? Cyborg? Was he even human? I was used to these sorts of thing; I usually did them to others. This was why I burst out in tears, and soon they were mixing with my face's sweat and palm's sweat and eyebrow sweat and upper lip sweat...

Eventually, my crying stopped. God knows how long it took, but it couldn't have been too long, otherwise I'd be dead.

At the start of any interrogation, I always said one thing to the abducted: You've got to play the game. Momentarily, I was confident; then I remembered that I was sitting in a cushioned pile of my shit that weighed more than a newborn.

Meekly, I croaked, "What's...happened to Roque?"

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:22pm Local Time (GMT+12)

The minutes slowly ticked by as the arms dealer sat in the chair and sobbed, sitting in his own faeces. The Black Staff Agents looked on, unchanged by the rising stench of human shit and the crying of their 'client'. Agent 00589 waited, patiently, for his captive to cease his crying and respond to him. When he did finally respond, it wasn't the response he wanted. The question about his brother was seemingly ignored, and one of the other Agents standing behind Tomas quickly struck him with a huge and thunderous impact between the shoulder blades, intending to cause pain. Agent 00589 seemed to almost nod to his counterpart in appreciation, before focusing back on Tomas. He took a slivering breath, then spoke once more with his deep cold voice.

"Who are the clients you facilitate, Mr. Villaverde?"

[Socorra]

Blood filled my mouth, two warm streams of it flowing from my nose and parting around my lips. They mingled with my tears, tingeing the blood with a briny taste. I'd thought I was braver, but then I gave up.

"The rich!" came my screams. "Crespo, Espárrago...all of them! They buy the army arsenal, all of it."

I began wailing again.

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:24pm Local Time (GMT+12)

Agent 00589 continued to stare coldly towards Tomas, the man who was crying, now bleeding and even shitting himself. As he answered, 00589 looked back down to the folder and flicked through some more pages, but he didn't take note of most of its contents. After some time, he raised his head again and looked deep into the tear-filled eyes of the man opposite, and seemed to draw a heavy sigh in disgust. Standing, 00589 began to slowly pace about the room, like a professional actor upon a stage. But there was a sense of danger from his movement, as if he was coming in for the kill. But when he would strike was hard if not impossible to tell, all that could be certain was that it would come soon enough.

"Your kind, Mr. Villaverde, are the very kind that we wish to eradicate from this world. Under-the-table traders, petty thieves and weak minded individuals - all those who make the human race weak at its hinges. You are in particular, a greedy under-the-table trader, Mr. Villaverde. Only a true fool such as yourself would have fallen for such a trap. If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Villaverde, you gave a young boy what he always wanted: his football clubs shirt and his own shiny ball. So perhaps that'll be your ticket into whatever heaven you believe in."

There was no specific tone about his voice, except one of intellect and fine tuning. Back when he'd have been trained or even raised to be a member of the Black Staff, he'd have been taught to speak the same like his brothers. The same cold, smart, piercing tone that would stick with someone forever, if they lived past their meeting with a Black Staff Agent.

Agent 00589 looked down to Mr. Villaverde from where he was standing across from him, completely straight, towering over him like Goliath over David. The only difference in the tale was, that David was doomed to die. "And what of your Brother...is he any different? I'm surprised such an idiotic individual can hold such a position in the first place. And that is why we're here, Mr. Villaverde, to bring balance to this world. With an iron fist, we shall flatten the bumps in society to make it a perfectly flat, straight spread."

He turned, to face Tomas straight on. "Next question - Where is this stock, and where do you get it from?"

[Socorra]

If his words hadn't made it clear enough, the agent's tone did: he and his friends were going to kill me.

I'd always expected to die in a frenzy, panicking over my mortality. Everyone expects this; begging God for any trickle of life to extend their goodbyes and deny their fate. My own calmness, which had started with a coldness in my spine that momentarily swept my entire body, was contrary to what'd I'd imagined: I was serene, for once. Despite the room's stench and the bloody tears rolling down my face that had drenched my beard, a smile weakly aligned along my face. I was still face-down on the table, and refused to move: my chin was set against the wood, looking up at the agent.

"I don't understand how you can talk of balancing society when really..." I babbled, grinning like a jester not even knowing what he was saying, "You're all greater bastards than me."

Immediately, the chilly movement of the agents behind me threatened another face-planting. I interjected, "But of course, what's information between friends?"

"I steal from two arsenals: the Arsenal Real in the presidential palace and the weapons of the communist guerrillas in the mountains. I know a Fusilier captain who gives me a cache every month; usually ten rifles and maybe a field gun. Teobaldo Velo is his name. The government has an informant in the communists, who they've actually elevated to their quartermaster...he buys real guns, real good-quality stuff, then auctions them off to the nobles and me."

"Captain Velo is a good man. Don't kill him like you'll kill me," I muttered. "There's loads of garrisons about the country, but the government gives them give dud bullets to keep the army down. I used to sack them, daily this one time, but any man with good brains would tell you the stuff the army had was terrible. Once, I tried to sell five magazines of plastic bullets and a rifle I didn't even know was a musket!"

I laughed, "Did the kid support Deportivo or Trinidad?"

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:28pm Local Time (GMT+12)

The Agents took note, mentally, of the people that Tomas spoke of. Agent 00589 had already noticed some other names in the folder, which were highlighted, so he knew that they'd be a future target or objective. The question on the young boy was irrelevant, and so the same Agent from before struck him from behind again. Agent 00589 stepped slowly around the table towards Tomas, and when he was directly before him he bent down slightly as to look him directly in the eye. Nothing else about him changed, however, as he continued to stare a moment longer and study the facial expressions of his 'client'. His breath was cold, as if he lived on a diet of ice cubes. Though his breath was cold, his clothes gave off the aroma of burnt material, such as wood or plaster. Agent 00589 reeked of death.

"Have you never got on with your brother?" The question was unusual, but it was either Tomas answered it or he suffered more.

[Socorra]

Whenever you're kidnapped by agents who'll clearly kill you once they've bled you for information - I mean, if you've ever considered the situation - you expect their interrogation to be non-personal, even professional; Where's the guns? Where are they from? Answering this stuff is easy, freeing you to drift away into your last merry daydream before they slice your jugular like butter and the Gates of Heaven shine momentarily before you, Saint Peter scowling before pointing behind you. So what if, along with your life, they take your final dream as well? It's cruel, psychotically cruel, but these guys were icy enough to do that. Even worse, they seemed interested in me. I might not die after all, which would be the worst fate knowing this lot.

I stuttered for a moment, deciding to answer truthfully - not that it mattered, but it might spare another face-planting they were liberally dishing, "Roque and me never got on well. Mama thought he was retarded, honestly, because he was always stuck inside with his books, even when we were young. Never was interested in women, in girls - I think he's a faggot. Haven't seen for about ten years now, but I know Crespo liked him. Probably a bad thing, since Crespo was insane at least from when we were nine."

"Why are..." I didn't finish the question, my voice fading out the way gunshots do.

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:31pm Local Time (GMT+12)

Any normal man would laugh at the answer. But the Agents did not, and Agent 00589 continued to stare into Tomas's eyes for a while longer. Then, standing up straight again and moving back over to his side of the table, Agent 00589 turned on his feet to face Tomas once more, his jackboots coming down with a furious crack, like thunder. "Division amongst family, brothers no less...That's the worst kind of division, and it is what affects the stability of nations. Roque may be the retard which you claim he is, but as his brother you're no more different. You're a cockroach whose immortality has not been granted. And we're the exterminators."

That sounded like a line a man would kill on, but Agent 00589 did nothing, and neither did the other Agents. An awkward silence fell on the room for one moment, before 00589 spoke again. "I'm going to give you a chance, Mr. Villaverde. Let me bleach you clean of your filth, and grant you a new life. Help me make Socorra a better place."

There was still no emotion in his voice, but it seemed as if he was offering Tomas something real. Something that he'd be able to taste on the tip of his tongue. "Socorra's government must go, Mr. Villaverde. It is a stain that ruins the shining armour of Gholgoth, and it must be cleaned away before it grows any bigger. I'm sure, as an arms dealer, you've dreamt of the days in which you'd bear witness to the might of columns of men, your own men, equipped with the finest tools and weaponry, going out for the glory of Socorra and Gholgoth. With our help you can bear witness to this. And it all begins, with your brother. Now, I know you may hate him, but I know you know where he is. Give us the place, and we can do as you wish..."

Agent 00589 bowed his head. He was offering him the chance to rule Socorra.

[Socorra]

Originally, this trio had been spies to me. This was happening since I was Roque's brother, and finding him would triumph the rest. As the agent offered me the presidency or something, I looked on hopefully, smiling - more at the chance not to die than anything. Before he'd even finished though, his voice like an automaton, it was clear what he was doing; he was fucking with me.

Laughing, I muttered, "You're fucking joking."

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:34pm Gothic Western Time (GMT+5)

Agent 00589 simply looked at Tomas, no possible evidence of emotion. He didn't share in the laughter, and as Tomas finished he stood up completely straight, arms behind his back. "I do not lie, Mr. Villaverde. Once we cleanse this nation of its filth it'll need somebody to direct them. You're cleanable, Mr. Villaverde, if you'd rather not die. For a client, you show a much higher intelligence then the average citizen here. With your leadership and the guidance of my superiors and your future benefactors, this island will no longer be a stain on the great flag of the Gothic Regional Alliance."

His voice was plain and cold, as usual. "Where is your brother, Mr. Villaverde?"

[OOC: Sorry for the sudden Timezone change, for I just realised I had it all wrong.]

[Socorra]

The agent was insistent, and I was beginning to believe him. He and his mates seemed insane, but legit, serious: talk of Gholgoth aroused anger in the country, and they knew its mention was a gamble for him. And I didn't want to another face-plant to the desk. My head nodded.

"Roque's at the Grand Arsenal."

[Kylarnatia]

Unknown Location, Puerto del Salvador
The Island Democracy of Socorra, Western Gholgoth
9:36pm Gothic Western Time (GMT+5)

"Thank you, Mr. Villaverde, your cooperation has been greatly valuable to our cause..." Agent 00589 bowed his head once again. Whilst he did so, one of the Agents from behind Tomas pulled out his Model 500 .50 cal Revolver and stood back. Aiming right into the back of his head, he pulled the trigger. Within a matter of seconds, the back of his skull and his brain all over the white floor, blood gushing out like a waterfall. Agent 00589 looked up, and said nothing to the other Agents as they began to literally 'bleach' Tomas's corpse, as to destroy his DNA and any other possible samples that may have somehow escaped the extreme protection of the Black Staff.

Once he was bleached, he was also left to burn. Agent 00589 looked to the others, before they left the building and left it to burn with him. Petrol cans were left in positions so that the building would explode once the fires began to spread. They were not only eager to remove all evidence, but they also wanted to begin their campaign of terror on the populace of Socorra. And this was only the beginning for what the Black Cobra had planned. Reaching a vehicle hid in the shadows of night outside, Agent 00589 took out a small mobile phone from his pocket and rang a number, whilst his counterparts got into the car. While the phone rang, 00589 looked to the burning building and watched the flames consume it with a cold indifference.

"Agent 00589."

"Command." Agent 00589 answered. "Tomas Villaverde has been eliminated, we've learned the location of his brother. The Main Terror Campaign can now begin."

"Good. Eliminate Roque Villaverde." The response was almost non-human. The building then exploded, but Agent 00589's stance did not change, as he watched the building collapse and rubble fly in all directions.

"Understood." He answered, then hung up. Getting into the Drivers Seat of the car, he then turned the ignition key, the engine coming to life with the ferocity of a beast, and drove the car off into the night.

The Kylarnatian 'Cloak and Dagger' Occupation of Socorra had begun.

[New Azura]

An Interminable Will
The Great Hall of the Forerunner, Praeclarus
Capital District of the City of Tsyion, Azura
Sunday, the 6th of May, 2012 — 10:30 PM

General Viktor Valeria set across from Lady Adrienne Constantinides, watching as she ravenously devoured the scant amount of food that was placed before her on a Sterling silver platter. The young regent of the Primacy had barely eaten at all in the days following the tumultuous passing of her father, and every single crisis which had presented itself hitherto. He studied her rapidly shrinking frame intently, watching her scarf down a blueberry bagel with a cream cheese spread. Her hands were growing more and more gaunt by the day, seemingly indicating that she'd reached the limit which her body was able to tolerate. He continued monitoring her, even to the point that Calixte began to become aware of his preening eyes. She was not amused...

"I would rather you stare at my breasts," Calixte said in between a bite of a bagel, "than I woulb yoe star.... Mm, God that's delicious... than I would you stare at my body." She brushed her mouth off with a silk napkin, pressing the intercom button repeatedly: "More bagels, people! Damn the expense!"

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Valeria noted with some alarm, wondering why Calixte was in such a frivolous mood, He hadn't seen her this uppity since before her father had passed away. "You seem in rather good spirit today, M'lady."

"It's all out of my hands, General," Calixte said openly, leaning back in her chair while awaiting for her next bagel. Even as she flopped backward, Valeria recoiled a bit as the young woman's bathrobe splayed open, revealing her nakedness for the whole world to see.

"Uh, m'lady, your... uh..."

Calixte looked down, waving her hands up in the air. "What's a matter, General? Not used to seeing female genitalia? It's okay, mister. Not many men get to see this ravishing body naked, either. That's because my shop doesn't... whoa... my shop doesn't cater to their, how would you say, exquisite tastes? Mhm, yes, exquisite."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she's stoned!

Valeria stood up, shaking his head. "M'lady, I'm going to let you get back to your, um... your nakedness. But I need your permission to redeploy some of our forces in Varathron to Western Gholgoth. There's a situation brewing that I think requires our attention."

Calixte stood up, letting her bath robe slip to the chair behind her. "What kind of situation, General?"

Valeria stared at her nakedness with a certain incredulous gleaming. "The... the Soccoran kind."