The attendants tittered about Jason as he silently prepared for what was to come. "What do you think, Tim? The classic black and gold suit-tie combo?" The fashion guru apparently named Tim stepped back and looked at Jason. "No..." he said contemplatively, stroking his chin. "I'm thinking monochrome gray. Varying shades, of course. The color is very flattering to him and it accents his eyes. I think... this suit."
"Oh, I like that one. The very faint, light blue stripes really add something intangible. You can't even see them from a distance, but they're still... there."
"I like them." Tim said, with finality. As the two men of questionable sexual origin dressed Jason, Beatrice Mansor (Jason's mother) entered the room, smiling. She still wore black; even after two years. She approached, being careful to avoid the man tying her son's shoes, and cupped Jason's cheek in her hand, still beaming. "My young man." She withdrew her right hand and clasped it with her left on the waist of her dress before adding "Your father would be so proud of you." Jason nodded a bit awkwardly as his attendants finished up. He adjusted the suit jacket and took his mother's arm. He led her to the double-doors that opened onto the balcony before releasing her. They looked at each other a moment before she planted a kiss on his cheek.
"You have his eyes" she said, tearfully, "His eyes and his blood. Remember that. You are a Mansor. Do you remember what I told you? When you were young? Power is earned-"
"But leadership is something you are born with." he finished for her. She hugged him. "Never forget it. Good luck, son of mine. We will restore ourselves. I know we shall." At length, a trumpet sounded and the doors were opened by two doormen. Jason walked out onto the Great Balcony. The Great Balcony was almost a Promenade. It enclosed three sides of the Mansors' city dwelling while the fourth was home to a smaller balcony, lower to the ground, that made it impossible to stretch the Great Balcony across that side. Presently, the side that Jason exited from (the North side) was lined with Syndicate Troopers. "Parade Uniform" was a foreign concept. It was frivolous, wasteful, and ultimately pointless. The men were decked out in full combat gear complete with Isotope-Invested Armor, combat helmets, hazard masks, and of course their handy-dandy assault rifles. And those dead eyes. As their Chief Executive Officer walked onto the balcony, they quickly changed from standing "At-ease" to standing at attention, picked up their assault rifles which they had been holding to the ground, and pressed them up against their chests. The crowd that had gathered below him was silent as Jason approached the microphones of the various news networks (as well as those merely meant to amplify his voice). He fought the urge to clear his throat and instead began to speak.
"Good afternoon. As you know, I am Jason Mansor, CEO of the Security Syndicate of the Black Plains. I called this get-together to inform The Black Plains, as well as the world in general, that I have returned from my one year Sabbatical. The purpose of my retreat was so that I could see other nations and companies... analyze what they did right and what we were doing wrong and, generally, so that I could learn more about the world at large. I've been back in the land of my birth only a short while. And already I've been so impressed with the welcome and compassion that so many have shown me. For this I thank you. In the first month before I left The Black Plains, I talked to many people here. I was in disguise, so some of you may have spoken to me and not even known it though, statistically, the chances are slim. After this, I left and remained abroad for the rest of the year to come.
While I was abroad, I learned many things. Some of them mundane, for instance a new method of tracking expenditures that should decrease overall cost by about three percent. But some of what I learned was very profound. I discovered what I believe to have been the key flaw in our business plan up until now: We were too weak. We showed leniency and were met with harshness. We displayed acts of mercy where no mercy was to be found in return. But most importantly, we left many resources untapped. We need to remodel our entire strategy with less focus on clients and more focus on pure and simple numbers. Where can we get the biggest return on investment? In the past we showed toleration to certain cities here at home. Going forward, late payments will not be tolerated. Security contracts for cities in The Black Plains are no longer suggestions: They are requirements. Security Contracts for individuals will remain largely unchanged. Finally, and this is key, no competition will be tolerated in The Black Plains. Any competing security companies have exactly ninety days to sell their assets and do what they must, after which point they must be dissolved. Absolutely no exceptions. What is more, foreign mercenary companies are barred from competing in The Black Plains. Not that they were ever a threat to the Syndicate."
Jason paused to allow the murmuring to come to an end.
"Now you may say that these measures are draconian. You may even, rightly, say that they somewhat resemble the actions of a state. You would be correct. We cannot suffer any free-riding. This is the bitter medicine we must swallow if The Security Syndicate is to be expected to continue to defend The Black Plains from all the crack-pot nations out there. Several in particular."
At this mention, the civilians below him chuckled. They knew exactly who he was talking about. Jason could hear one in particular, just below him, scoff to his friend "... A skull. An actual skull. For a seal. I'm not even joking!" Jason smiled. Some nations had accrued a reputation for their silly flags and seals. The Syndicate tended to follow "simple is best" as a rule for such things. He continued.
"But we shall defend it as we have in the past. And I would remind those of you that say the Syndicate has ambitions of statehood that people in The Black Plains still enjoy more freedom than anywhere else on earth. You know how much I despise the idea of a state and how much I desire to see these freedoms be maintained! And they shall be maintained! And The Black plains shall be maintained! We will never bow before any state! I guarantee it." He gave a nod with a sense of finality to it and the people seemed impressed. As he left the chilly November air to retreat back inside, his mother hugged him and asked him if he wanted wine.
"God no. Hot Toddy, please. I need something to warm me, not just get me drunk."
Peter Cantrell, the long-time Foreign Minister of the Security Syndicate, added "Yes. Hot toddy is good for warming you. Getting you drunk is just an added benefit." Jason smiled and clasped his shoulder. "Pete, good to see you! You're looking healthy."
"Yes." he said with a melancholy tone "It's those darn newfangled diets. At this rate I'll never be able to die." He and Jason laughed together as they had in the past. "It's good to see you too, Jay." At this Jason's voice took a more serious tone. "How has the army done?"
"Good, good. We had a skirmish here and there. Nothing big. But enough to keep them from getting rusty."
"Who's been in charge?"
Peter gave a grimace. "Of the army? Ah, that would be none other than Antony Lustrang." Jason rolled his eyes. "How many Lustrangs does that make in the First Tier?"
"Well..." Peter thought for a moment "That would be Antony, the Grand Marshal, of course... young Marcell was made Chief of Tactics and Strategy Development."
Jason's eyes widened. "Even though he-"
Peter finished for him, dryly, "Even though he's made several spirited attempts to rape his subordinate officers? (All men, I might add) Yes. The Lustrangs have managed to keep that under wraps. The fact that the officers who refuse him have mysteriously vanished doesn't hurt. Antony's twins, Joshua and Jonathan, are also in the First Tier now. One of them is the Chief of Logistics and the other is the Chief Officer of Telecommunications. I keep getting the two mixed up, though. Don't tell them. One of them (Joshua I think) is very sensitive about being confused for the other. They are identical... and there's a rumor that they are more than... just brothers."
Jason sighed. He could always rely upon the Lustrangs to guarantee that his military High Command had its share of perversion. They were eccentric citizens, but as soldiers they were top notch. The family ate and drank warfare. How a family with such a high rate of male homosexuality could remain so large was a mystery to him. One that he didn't much care to solve. This was what he was given to work with. Turning a sow's ear into a silk purse was not the proper metaphor because he wasn't exactly given a sow's ear. It would be more like turning a sapphire into a diamond. Something good into something perfect. He would do it. He could feel it.
