#1402: You Only Negotiate Twice
The Story So Far
You agreed to remove your missiles from San Vitenzo in exchange for the United Federation removing their missiles from Eagleton Air Base.
The Issue
After a series of secret negotiations, everyone has shaken hands and made a commitment to disarm. You and an aide have met with President Ken J. Finnedy in a beautiful glass-fronted conference room in San Vitenzo to sign the final agreement.
The Debate
Internal option 0. “Good morning! Are you ready to make history? Let me just get my ceremonial signing pen.” Finnedy reaches into his coat pocket and removes not a pen, but a Smyth & Weston revolver, which he points directly at your chest. “Have you noticed that world leaders like ourselves never get frisked for weapons? I can’t remember the last time I had to go through a metal detector. Seems like a security flaw, don’t you think? Well, I digress. I hope you didn’t actually expect me to remove my own missiles. You see, I didn’t get to be President of the United Federation by giving up power every time I had a disagreement with someone. Real leaders do whatever it takes to seize power and claw our way to the top. Although I firmly believe that the only good commie is a dead commie, this isn’t personal — it’s just politics. As soon as you’re dead...” Suddenly, the window shatters as Natasha Milanova crashes into the room in a hail of glass fragments, closely followed by her @@DEMONYMADJECTIVE@@ flag parachute. Milanova leaps toward Finnedy, kicks the revolver out of his hand, and slams him into the floor. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in, Comrade Leader. Your aide pressed the panic button — and I see that mister Imperialist in Chief is up to his old tricks. Well, here’s how it’s going to go, Finnedy. I discovered your plans to send an armada to @@NAME@@ to bombard us. To prevent that from happening, I secretly removed a warhead from one of your nuclear missiles before it was loaded onto a submarine at Libertyville. I handed it off to one of my colleagues, who has hidden it in your capital city, ready for detonation at a moment’s notice. Either you sign that agreement and follow through with each of its terms, or your ‘glorious free-market paradise’ is going to be a victim of your own hubris. Are we clear?” Finnedy nods and quickly scribbles his name on the agreement. “Good. Now get out of here and don’t threaten @@NAME@@ ever again, or your capital will become a radioactive crater faster than you can say ‘hedge fund manager’.” Milanova turns toward you as Finnedy and his aide scurry out of the room. “Let’s go home, boss.”
Internal option 1. “Good morning! Are you ready to make history? Let me just get my ceremonial signing pen.” Finnedy reaches into his coat pocket and removes not a pen, but a Smyth & Weston revolver, which he points directly at your chest. “Have you noticed that world leaders like ourselves never get frisked for weapons? I can’t remember the last time I had to go through a metal detector. Seems like a security flaw, don’t you think? Well, I digress. I hope you didn’t actually expect me to remove my own missiles. You see, I didn’t get to be President of the United Federation by giving up power every time I had a disagreement with someone. Real leaders do whatever it takes to seize power and claw our way to the top. Although I firmly believe that the only good commie is a dead commie, this isn’t personal — it’s just politics. As soon as you’re dead...” Suddenly, the window shatters as Natasha Milanova crashes into the room in a hail of glass fragments, closely followed by her @@DEMONYMADJECTIVE@@ flag parachute. Milanova leaps toward Finnedy, kicks the revolver out of his hand, and slams him into the floor. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in, Comrade Leader. Your aide pressed the panic button — and I see that mister Imperialist in Chief is up to his old tricks. Well, here’s how it’s going to go, Finnedy. I discovered your plans to send an armada to @@NAME@@ to bombard us. To prevent that from happening, I secretly removed a warhead from one of your nuclear missiles before it was loaded onto a submarine at Libertyville. I handed it off to one of my colleagues, who has hidden it in your capital city, ready for detonation at a moment’s notice. Either you sign that agreement and follow through with each of its terms, which include some generous financial aid for San Vitenzo, or your ‘glorious free-market paradise’ is going to be a victim of your own hubris. Are we clear?” Finnedy nods and quickly scribbles his name on the agreement. “Good. Now get out of here and don’t threaten @@NAME@@ ever again, or your capital will become a radioactive crater faster than you can say ‘hedge fund manager’.” Milanova turns toward you as Finnedy and his aide scurry out of the room. “Let’s go home, boss.”
Issue by The Holy Empire of Pogaria
Edited by Pogaria
Also, in #1401, Option 2, "Rhein Museum" should be "@@NAME@@".