Syunkau Political Asylum Conference [IC/Closed/TG to Join]

[Yitanka]

Syunkau, Yitankan SSR

After confirming with their KTO representative, Shin Tezuyu, that information regarding his private negotiations was correct and also upon receiving word of the New San Andreas Republic also seeking a similar deal, the Ministry of Foreign Relations got to work preparing an official conference to work on the details of a treaty to allow the emigration of Communist political exiles from hostile states to the Yitankan SSR. The proposed treaty would be initially meant for Lisamia and the NSAR, but would be open for other interested parties to join as well. If successful, it would allow certain nations to offload their unwanted communist citizens at little to no expense instead of devolving to brutal arrests or even execution. Meanwhile it would serve to bolster the Yitankan workforce while also allowing the Yitankan SSR to become a shining beacon of safety for those sympathetic to the worker's cause.

And what better place to hold such a conference than the capital of Yitanka itself: Syunkau. With summer coming to an end, the air was a crisp 10°C (50°F). The first snow had yet to fall in Syunkau, but now it was only a matter of time. Still surrounded by much of the land's pristine greenery, the city looked as if it had been cut from elsewhere and dropped in the middle of nowhere. Though, depending on your definition, nearly all of Yitanka could easily be considered the "middle of nowhere".

To say there was an air of excitement in Syunkau would have been an understatement. Less than a year ago Yitanka had been almost entirely isolated from the world. Now, in the span of weeks, it was hosting foreign dignitaries from all corners of the world. From delegates of Comunipro to diplomats now coming for this new conference, it was beginning to feel as if Syunkau was the center of the world. Some local Yitankans were hopeful Syunkau would become a major international hub like Hong Kong, Beijing, Tokyo, or the almost mythical New York City. Others were skeptical of the new arrivals. But the historic heart of Yitanka had always been one of diversity, and the Yitankan culture was very much a melting pot. And, if these newcomers were anything like the Namaprikans who had arrived a month earlier, they'd be welcomed with open arms.

The conference would take place at the City Hall of Syunkau, a quaint old Stalin-era structure that had seen some renovation but little in the way of redesigning. It's blocky white form was reminiscent of past decades, in a world where the Yitans were still under Russian governance. A darker age for Yitankan culture, with Russification projects stretching from tsars to Russian dictators, it was no small miracle that the hardy Yitan people made it out with most of their cultural identity intact.

Minister of Foreign Affairs Yinrau Uyeya waited patiently alongside his aides, double and triple checking that everything was in order for the upcoming conference. Letters had been sent out as quickly as possible, inviting delegations from both Lisamia and the New San Andreas Republic to the conference.

The Soviet Socialist Republic of Yitanka
Їтанка наи Соїаи Цакўаицуги Кйаукўако
伊丹霞乃蘇維埃社會主義共和國

To the Governments of Lisamia and the New San Andreas Republic,

After receiving word that both your nations would be interested in an arrangement to allow Yitanka to provide political asylum for communists in your respective nations, we hereby invite you to an official conference to work out the details for a treaty to carry out such procedures in an orderly and mutually agreed upon manner. This conference will take place at the city hall of Syunkau in the Soviet Socialist Republic of Yitanka. We will be happy to receive your delegates and discuss the terms with which we may peacefully and humanely transport political exiles from your nations to the Yitankan SSR.

As a side note, we humbly ask you temporarily cease any execution, torture, or active punishment of communists in your nations until a treaty can be signed. This does not include arrests, as it is your sovereign right to maintain peace within your borders, but we wish to ensure no further harm comes to any who might have their life spared by this proposed treaty.

We thank you for your consideration and are looking forward to cooperating with your nations in the near future.

Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Yitankan SSR

Uyeya Yinrau

[Yitanka]

---Reserved for finalized treaty---

[New San Andreas Republic]

The large door inside the City Hall swung open, and inside came a man wearing the rather proudly-displayed NSAR flag pin on his suit, followed by a single aide. His attention wasn't really on the people in the room, or even the Yitankan delegation as it should have been, but on the structure of the building itself, which manifested itself on a sense of discomfort on his face. NSAR diplomats tended to be uncomfortable anywhere, since they were used to a world of ruined American suburbia, shoddy rebuilding and rust tin shacks, occasionally military tents or re-used Pre-War buildings if they were in the Senora. The man was Michael Robbins, the NSAR Secretary of State who it been decided upon should represent the NSAR in the negotiations and any signing of a treaty. He finally found the gaze of Mr. Uyeya, and badly attempted to hide his distaste for the foreign architecture with a big smile and a nod of the head. He found the seat that had a small 'NEW SAN ANDREAS REPUBLIC' note in front of it, and sat down, immediately picking up and examining a small bottle of water that had been placed in front. For some reason, NSAR diplomats always seemed to check it in a paranoid fashion, as though not used to completely clean water. After he examined it, he began to speak:

"Is it 'comrades'? Is that the polite word we're supposed to use for you fellas? 'Comrades'? I wasn't actually briefed on, uhh.... what I'm supposed to call you guys as a form of respect. Reds? No, that's rude.... Uhh, it doesn't matter, how the hell are you guys? I'm Robbins, Michael Robbins. Let me tell you, it was a hell of a job for the Vertibird to find this place, but boy oh boy did it stick out when we saw it. Everything here is very... square, you know? Very old-looking. It's good, though. It's all good. This is a fine room and place to discuss these Red prisoners of ours, and what better to listen than some Reds themselves? It takes a Red to know a Red, after all. We don't want these boys sitting in our cells any longer so we are eager to get these talks started and this treaty signed."

He smiled and unscrewed the lid off the bottle of water, taking a sip as he looked attentively at the Yitankan delegation he now expected to speak. And they would have straight away, had he not suddenly slightly coughed and widened his eyes as the water hit his throat. He hurriedly removed the bottle from his lid, and looked at with sudden surprise and aghastness. Had he been poisoned?

"You know, it is the rarest thing in the world I ever drink water that DOESN'T taste like Brahmin shit! That, hahaha, is incredible! Rachel, hun, look at this water!"

The NSAR diplomats always seemed so much more polite in their telegrams. Were they not used to this whole 'diplomacy' thing?

[Yitanka]

The large door inside the City Hall swung open, and inside came a man wearing the rather proudly-displayed NSAR flag pin on his suit, followed by a single aide. His attention wasn't really on the people in the room, or even the Yitankan delegation as it should have been, but on the structure of the building itself, which manifested itself on a sense of discomfort on his face. NSAR diplomats tended to be uncomfortable anywhere, since they were used to a world of ruined American suburbia, shoddy rebuilding and rust tin shacks, occasionally military tents or re-used Pre-War buildings if they were in the Senora. The man was Michael Robbins, the NSAR Secretary of State who it been decided upon should represent the NSAR in the negotiations and any signing of a treaty. He finally found the gaze of Mr. Uyeya, and badly attempted to hide his distaste for the foreign architecture with a big smile and a nod of the head. He found the seat that had a small 'NEW SAN ANDREAS REPUBLIC' note in front of it, and sat down, immediately picking up and examining a small bottle of water that had been placed in front. For some reason, NSAR diplomats always seemed to check it in a paranoid fashion, as though not used to completely clean water. After he examined it, he began to speak:

"Is it 'comrades'? Is that the polite word we're supposed to use for you fellas? 'Comrades'? I wasn't actually briefed on, uhh.... what I'm supposed to call you guys as a form of respect. Reds? No, that's rude.... Uhh, it doesn't matter, how the hell are you guys? I'm Robbins, Michael Robbins. Let me tell you, it was a hell of a job for the Vertibird to find this place, but boy oh boy did it stick out when we saw it. Everything here is very... square, you know? Very old-looking. It's good, though. It's all good. This is a fine room and place to discuss these Red prisoners of ours, and what better to listen than some Reds themselves? It takes a Red to know a Red, after all. We don't want these boys sitting in our cells any longer so we are eager to get these talks started and this treaty signed."

He smiled and unscrewed the lid off the bottle of water, taking a sip as he looked attentively at the Yitankan delegation he now expected to speak. And they would have straight away, had he not suddenly slightly coughed and widened his eyes as the water hit his throat. He hurriedly removed the bottle from his lid, and looked at with sudden surprise and aghastness. Had he been poisoned?

"You know, it is the rarest thing in the world I ever drink water that DOESN'T taste like Brahmin shit! That, hahaha, is incredible! Rachel, hun, look at this water!"

The NSAR diplomats always seemed so much more polite in their telegrams. Were they not used to this whole 'diplomacy' thing?

Foreign Affairs Minister Uyeya had been briefed on the...uniqueness of the New San Andreas Republic, but nothing could have truly prepared him for this encounter. The NSAR representative's blunt and free mannerism left Mr. Uyeya speechless for a moment as his brain tried to comprehend and recalibrate to everything that had just happened. Essentially, Mr. Robbins's entrance and introduction had been the equivalent of a nuke going off in the dead center of Yinrau Uyeya's years of experience.

"Ah...yes, that's fine," Mr. Uyeya finally said. "You may call us whatever makes you most comfortable. We are hosting a conference for nations not exactly keen on communism after all, so we're not expecting anyone attending to have a particularly good opinion of our ideology. Comrades, Reds, 'Commie Bastards', call us what you will. We won't be taking an offense to any it. And you don't have to hide your dislike of this place either. If I had it my way, this place would be torn down and rebuilt in a much less oppressive style."

"Either way, it's a pleasure to meet you today, Mr. Robbins," he continued, offering his hand for a shake. "We're still waiting on the Lisamian representative to arrive before we start officially, But, in the meantime, feel free to ask any questions you might have. I know the whole of our nation must be very...alien to you, what with all the cold and communism. I'll be more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"And, if I might be frank," Mr. Uyeya said with a grin, leaning forward and relaxing slightly, "it'll be much easier to talk about 'less-than-professional-business' things before the others arrive. Off the books kind of stuff. Anything outside of how to get our nukes and what drawer I keep my underwear in is fair game."

[New San Andreas Republic]

Mr. Robbins, who at this point had thankfully realized that he had a treaty negotiation to do instead of admiring the water, stood up and firmly gripped Mr. Uyeya's warmly outstretched and gave him a forceful yet affirmed handshake. He always enjoyed doing the handshake, it was his favourite part about these things. From the amused look on his face, it became apparent he was about to deliver some kind of humorous witty line to break any ice.

"Are you sure? I find a bit of nuke-hunting and underwear sharing proves surprisingly insightful conversation. Ha ha, No, no, it's quite alright.''

After letting his Yitankan counterpart's hand go and returning to his seat, Mr. Robbins took it upon himself to both clarify some feelings and abide Mr. Uyeya's pleasantly surprising tolerant attitude by giving him some conversation before the Lismanian representation made themselves apparent.

"I wouldn't want you to get us wrong. We do have our differences, and I'll admit that back home in the Republic, we've had quite a few choice terms and words to describe you Red fellas. Myself though, I will do my duty as a good guest and refrain from any insults or slights. The way I see it, Red or not, we're in this room to help each other and scratch some backs. You've invited us here out of good will, we're sat at a table, we've both got out suits on, this is diplomacy in action."

Taking another sip of the now half-empty appraised water bottle sat next to him, it suddenly occurred to Mr. Robbins that it may make them come across as less assholeish and rude if they gave their hatred of Communism a bit of sympathetic context.

"At the same time, though, you gotta see why we'd have a bit of misgivings towards the way of life you folks live. From our records, centuries ago, it was Reds just like you that caused the Great War. It was Reds who caused those great big bombs to destroy the country that ours was ultimately birthed from. Chinese Red communists, if I remember my University lectures well. And while I don't meant to tar all folks with the same brush, it's hard not to have some societal mixed feelings, y'know? Although, I don't know if you folks actually know about the Great War... this, uh, technology we use now to access here is sort of still new to me."

[Kingdom Of The UN]

Dzmitre Angyal alongside Stefan Juhasz would begin exiting the vehicle to where the meeting would be taking place. Dzmitre would begin lighting a cigarette and smoking it while Stefan would accompany him, Stefan would cough as he turns to Dzmitre annoyed.

Stefan: "Would you please not smoke that in front of me? You shouldn't be even smoking so why do you even have them?"

Dzmitre turned to Stefan to respond back in a playful sort of tone

Dzmitre: "Oh come on my young prince cut me so slack will ya? It's banned in our nation so this is the only time I'll be able to get my fix to come on!"

Stefan would begin muttering himself as Dzmitre would continue smoking

Stefan: "Why do I have to be accompanied by this idiot...."

They were both assigned back in Varosa by Ayazan himself in trying to find an alternative to just killing communists in the country. Stefan was still young, that said he wanted Dzmitre to accompany Stefan in this diplomatic meeting so he can start gaining experience on matters such as this. Dzmitre and Stefan would make it to the door and make it inside, hopefully waiting for someone to greet them to where the meeting is being held.

[Zarnicovia nova]

An AZNUP representative named Wallen Hurtz arrives in Syunkau as the communist regime in ZN collapses looking to gain a government in-exile status in the near future in Yitankia.

[Yitanka]

"Similarly, there are still some here in Yitanka who remember the abuses and deaths caused by capitalists thirty years back to the day," Mr. Uyeya said, "so I do understand the feeling. But like I said, there will be no hard f-"

The Minister of Foreign Affairs interrupted himself as the door to the meeting room opened and the other delegates began to enter.

"Ah, welcome Mr. Juhasz and Mr. Hurtz!" he said, standing and offering his hand for a shake. "And Mr. Angyal as well. Please, have a seat and we'll get started right away."

[New San Andreas Republic]

As Mr. Uyeya's answer was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and his head turned towards it, in turn, so did Mr. Robbins'. Realizing that he'd mentally prepared himself far more for the discussion and impression he made upon the Yitankan hosts than he had for the other delegates also arriving (who in some ways he'd even forgotten would be there), he decided quickly that he'd do what he always did and just try to give them a friendly welcome. After all, if there 'sides' here (as ridiculous as the notion sounded at a formal political negotiation) the other delegates were on the NSAR's. They weren't Communist, and their host was. Their whole point of being here was to get exactly what the NSAR wanted: a problem gotten rid of with some possible sweet benefits thrown on top. Standing up from his seat and walking with his hand out ready for a potential handshake towards the three men (only to realize the Yitankan delegate had been quicker than him in the intiative to do so), he instead stood waiting and began to loudly and assertively welcome the delegates he'd need to be friends with for the next couple of hours.

"Heya fellas, I'm glad you were able to find the place with no trouble. The damn Vertibird pilot I had over here didn't seem to have the same faculty. I'm Michael Robbins, Secretary of State for the New San Andreas Republic, or the NSAR as you might know us as. I hope you've heard good things, because good things is what we are. You boys ready to sit yourselves down and get your commies squared away nice and civil-like? I damn well know I am. And let me tell you guys, you have got to try the water here. These Yitankan reds.... mmmhmmm, they may be a bit rough-on-the-edges architecture wise but boy do they cook upssome fine H²0 like mama used to."

[Yitanka]

"Let's get down to business then, shall we?"

Minister Uyeya takes his seat, opening his dossier and reviewing its contents.

"We'll start with you, Mr. Robbins. From what I hear, the government of the New San Andreas Republic has in its possession several Janpian prisoners. Is that correct? I am aware the people of the New San Andreas Republic are not particularly fond of communists as well, hence why we are here today. And as you are probably well aware of, we are more than willing to take in any unwanted communists you may have...after a vetting process, of course. We wouldn't want you to go labelling every criminal a 'communist' and shipping them over to us. We'll also have to discuss transportation and the treatment of such prisoners prior to deportation. Does that sound roughly like what you're willing to discuss with us, Mr. Robbins?"

[New San Andreas Republic]

"Let's get down to business then, shall we?"

Minister Uyeya takes his seat, opening his dossier and reviewing its contents.

"We'll start with you, Mr. Robbins. From what I hear, the government of the New San Andreas Republic has in its possession several Janpian prisoners. Is that correct? I am aware the people of the New San Andreas Republic are not particularly fond of communists as well, hence why we are here today. And as you are probably well aware of, we are more than willing to take in any unwanted communists you may have...after a vetting process, of course. We wouldn't want you to go labelling every criminal a 'communist' and shipping them over to us. We'll also have to discuss transportation and the treatment of such prisoners prior to deportation. Does that sound roughly like what you're willing to discuss with us, Mr. Robbins?"

"That, Mr. Uyeya, is exactly what we are going to discuss. These three Janpian boys have been here for weeks now, and they've been nothing short of a diplomatic headache. Their own damn country doesn't care about 'em, and they've caused such a ruckus back home that we're willing to haul them off to whatever Red place wants 'em. We can tell ya that from the time we first received your correspondence, till now, not a hair has been touched on any of their commie heads. Of course, before then... when they were being interrogated in their possible role in a sabotage of our New Venturas Monorail... there was a civilian contractor who may have gotten somewhat punchy. We only use such contractors due to holdover prisoner laws from President Amari, you see. She was a bit of a bleedin' heart when it came to type of stuff. So, yeah, we're willing to talk about all that with ya, don't you worry."

Mr. Robbins then looked somewhat shifty and somewhat more mercenary-inclined as he leaned over and cleared his throat, clearly about to make a statement that meant that there were conditions or a 'catch' that hadn't been addressed yet.

"Of course, I must also let you know that the NSAR is not just interested in this treaty for the sake of our convenience. We also hope to gain... how would we put this? We hope to gain... incentives from the Yitankan authorities for any future political prisoners given. Holding these prisoners, transferring them, making sure they're treated safe and well... it costs a lot. A 5.56 to the head to the adminstration, though, costs a lot less. It might just so happen that if the NSAR isn't given a little incentive more than just delivering commies to other commies, then well, some of these 'commies' might also be labelled 'Legion spies' in the future and dealt with accordingly. We hope we have an understanding of the necessity of such incentives."

[Yitanka]

"Let's get down to business then, shall we?"

Minister Uyeya takes his seat, opening his dossier and reviewing its contents.

"We'll start with you, Mr. Robbins. From what I hear, the government of the New San Andreas Republic has in its possession several Janpian prisoners. Is that correct? I am aware the people of the New San Andreas Republic are not particularly fond of communists as well, hence why we are here today. And as you are probably well aware of, we are more than willing to take in any unwanted communists you may have...after a vetting process, of course. We wouldn't want you to go labelling every criminal a 'communist' and shipping them over to us. We'll also have to discuss transportation and the treatment of such prisoners prior to deportation. Does that sound roughly like what you're willing to discuss with us, Mr. Robbins?"

"That, Mr. Uyeya, is exactly what we are going to discuss. These three Janpian boys have been here for weeks now, and they've been nothing short of a diplomatic headache. Their own damn country doesn't care about 'em, and they've caused such a ruckus back home that we're willing to haul them off to whatever Red place wants 'em. We can tell ya that from the time we first received your correspondence, till now, not a hair has been touched on any of their commie heads. Of course, before then... when they were being interrogated in their possible role in a sabotage of our New Venturas Monorail... there was a civilian contractor who may have gotten somewhat punchy. We only use such contractors due to holdover prisoner laws from President Amari, you see. She was a bit of a bleedin' heart when it came to type of stuff. So, yeah, we're willing to talk about all that with ya, don't you worry."

Mr. Robbins then looked somewhat shifty and somewhat more mercenary-inclined as he leaned over and cleared his throat, clearly about to make a statement that meant that there were conditions or a 'catch' that hadn't been addressed yet.

"Of course, I must also let you know that the NSAR is not just interested in this treaty for the sake of our convenience. We also hope to gain... how would we put this? We hope to gain... incentives from the Yitankan authorities for any future political prisoners given. Holding these prisoners, transferring them, making sure they're treated safe and well... it costs a lot. A 5.56 to the head to the adminstration, though, costs a lot less. It might just so happen that if the NSAR isn't given a little incentive more than just delivering commies to other commies, then well, some of these 'commies' might also be labelled 'Legion spies' in the future and dealt with accordingly. We hope we have an understanding of the necessity of such incentives."

Mr. Uyeya's smile held firm despite Michael Robbins's statement.

"We've anticipated these...complications," he said with a nod. "We're well aware of the costs associated with keeping and transporting prisoners. This is why we plan to offer to cover all additional expenses regarding the deportation of such prisoners. That is, to clarify, any cost beyond what the NSAR would spend to simply dispose of the problem. We won't be paying your police force's wages or anything like that, but we will cover the costs of holding after trial, transportation, and any administrative fees incurred after sentencing. We will also be providing the transportation itself, so you need not worry about those logistics either."

"Now, this does come with some stipulations," Uyeya continued, flipping through some of the pages in his dossier. "Like I mentioned earlier, we're not exactly keen on paying to get rid of all of your criminals. Only the ones 'guilty' of being communists. So in order to ensure that our generosity is not being taken advantage of, we'd like to establish a permanent office in the NSAR for the purposes of vetting all prisoners being deported to Yitanka. We will need to be able to question any prisoners you plan to send us as well as review all relevant court documents regarding said prisoners without hinderance. This office will also require a small security force, maybe 5-10 armed men at most, and will need to be staffed entirely by Yitankan citizens."

"I assure you, you won't find an offer more generous than this...as long as your government is willing to be above board with us, of course."

[New San Andreas Republic]

"That, Mr. Uyeya, is exactly what we are going to discuss. These three Janpian boys have been here for weeks now, and they've been nothing short of a diplomatic headache. Their own damn country doesn't care about 'em, and they've caused such a ruckus back home that we're willing to haul them off to whatever Red place wants 'em. We can tell ya that from the time we first received your correspondence, till now, not a hair has been touched on any of their commie heads. Of course, before then... when they were being interrogated in their possible role in a sabotage of our New Venturas Monorail... there was a civilian contractor who may have gotten somewhat punchy. We only use such contractors due to holdover prisoner laws from President Amari, you see. She was a bit of a bleedin' heart when it came to type of stuff. So, yeah, we're willing to talk about all that with ya, don't you worry."

Mr. Robbins then looked somewhat shifty and somewhat more mercenary-inclined as he leaned over and cleared his throat, clearly about to make a statement that meant that there were conditions or a 'catch' that hadn't been addressed yet.

"Of course, I must also let you know that the NSAR is not just interested in this treaty for the sake of our convenience. We also hope to gain... how would we put this? We hope to gain... incentives from the Yitankan authorities for any future political prisoners given. Holding these prisoners, transferring them, making sure they're treated safe and well... it costs a lot. A 5.56 to the head to the adminstration, though, costs a lot less. It might just so happen that if the NSAR isn't given a little incentive more than just delivering commies to other commies, then well, some of these 'commies' might also be labelled 'Legion spies' in the future and dealt with accordingly. We hope we have an understanding of the necessity of such incentives."

Mr. Uyeya's smile held firm despite Michael Robbins's statement.

"We've anticipated these...complications," he said with a nod. "We're well aware of the costs associated with keeping and transporting prisoners. This is why we plan to offer to cover all additional expenses regarding the deportation of such prisoners. That is, to clarify, any cost beyond what the NSAR would spend to simply dispose of the problem. We won't be paying your police force's wages or anything like that, but we will cover the costs of holding after trial, transportation, and any administrative fees incurred after sentencing. We will also be providing the transportation itself, so you need not worry about those logistics either."

"Now, this does come with some stipulations," Uyeya continued, flipping through some of the pages in his dossier. "Like I mentioned earlier, we're not exactly keen on paying to get rid of all of your criminals. Only the ones 'guilty' of being communists. So in order to ensure that our generosity is not being taken advantage of, we'd like to establish a permanent office in the NSAR for the purposes of vetting all prisoners being deported to Yitanka. We will need to be able to question any prisoners you plan to send us as well as review all relevant court documents regarding said prisoners without hinderance. This office will also require a small security force, maybe 5-10 armed men at most, and will need to be staffed entirely by Yitankan citizens."

"I assure you, you won't find an offer more generous than this...as long as your government is willing to be above board with us, of course."

"Now you don't have to worry about that. First thing that happens if this thing gets signed, is that any political prisoner labelled 'Commie' will be treated nice and special from there on out. We don't hurt them, we don't interrogate them, we don't even call them names that aren't nice. We just wait for your folks to take a look and speak to them at that office you're talking about, which I can assure you, will be built to your exact demands. Our nations may not formally possess embassies or whatnot with one another at the moment, but this will do us just fine. Right in the pristine, touristy-part of Los Santos, that's where you folks'll be. You'll have full access to the prisoners, and you can ask what ya like."

Mr. Robbins, as he had seemingly developed a disturbing habit of doing numerous times, then switched from his 'friendly, accented big lug' voice to his 'mercenary interest in the situation' voice. The spirit of the NSAR itself seemed to be personified within him.

"I think I'll just state this plainly. When we say 'incentives', we don't just mean you folks coverin' the cost. That's awful nice of you and whatnot, but I'll tell you what the NSAR is really interested in. Money. per. prisoner. What we're lookin' at here is a mutually beneficial situation, at least in our eyes. For you commies, you get some of your own to teach, re-educate, torture, whatever you've got in mind. For us, we get paid per prisoner we deliver to you. We make a profit. We both scratch each other's backs, and the commies get more commies, and the 'capitalist scum' as you may know us get an incentive to continue looking for Communists and keep them out of our nation. This is for our convenience but the NSAR is always looking to benefit from any situation, even moreso than just getting a problem of our backs. The Grand Khans can tell you what happens when there is no profit incentive for the NSAR to keep em' around."

[Yitanka]

Mr. Uyeya's smile held firm despite Michael Robbins's statement.

"We've anticipated these...complications," he said with a nod. "We're well aware of the costs associated with keeping and transporting prisoners. This is why we plan to offer to cover all additional expenses regarding the deportation of such prisoners. That is, to clarify, any cost beyond what the NSAR would spend to simply dispose of the problem. We won't be paying your police force's wages or anything like that, but we will cover the costs of holding after trial, transportation, and any administrative fees incurred after sentencing. We will also be providing the transportation itself, so you need not worry about those logistics either."

"Now, this does come with some stipulations," Uyeya continued, flipping through some of the pages in his dossier. "Like I mentioned earlier, we're not exactly keen on paying to get rid of all of your criminals. Only the ones 'guilty' of being communists. So in order to ensure that our generosity is not being taken advantage of, we'd like to establish a permanent office in the NSAR for the purposes of vetting all prisoners being deported to Yitanka. We will need to be able to question any prisoners you plan to send us as well as review all relevant court documents regarding said prisoners without hinderance. This office will also require a small security force, maybe 5-10 armed men at most, and will need to be staffed entirely by Yitankan citizens."

"I assure you, you won't find an offer more generous than this...as long as your government is willing to be above board with us, of course."

"Now you don't have to worry about that. First thing that happens if this thing gets signed, is that any political prisoner labelled 'Commie' will be treated nice and special from there on out. We don't hurt them, we don't interrogate them, we don't even call them names that aren't nice. We just wait for your folks to take a look and speak to them at that office you're talking about, which I can assure you, will be built to your exact demands. Our nations may not formally possess embassies or whatnot with one another at the moment, but this will do us just fine. Right in the pristine, touristy-part of Los Santos, that's where you folks'll be. You'll have full access to the prisoners, and you can ask what ya like."

Mr. Robbins, as he had seemingly developed a disturbing habit of doing numerous times, then switched from his 'friendly, accented big lug' voice to his 'mercenary interest in the situation' voice. The spirit of the NSAR itself seemed to be personified within him.

"I think I'll just state this plainly. When we say 'incentives', we don't just mean you folks coverin' the cost. That's awful nice of you and whatnot, but I'll tell you what the NSAR is really interested in. Money. per. prisoner. What we're lookin' at here is a mutually beneficial situation, at least in our eyes. For you commies, you get some of your own to teach, re-educate, torture, whatever you've got in mind. For us, we get paid per prisoner we deliver to you. We make a profit. We both scratch each other's backs, and the commies get more commies, and the 'capitalist scum' as you may know us get an incentive to continue looking for Communists and keep them out of our nation. This is for our convenience but the NSAR is always looking to benefit from any situation, even moreso than just getting a problem of our backs. The Grand Khans can tell you what happens when there is no profit incentive for the NSAR to keep em' around."

This is where Mr. Uyeya's smile finally faded. The façade of pleasantry and unconditional hospitality vanished in an instant as the true negotiations finally began.

"I suppose it would have been foolish of me to assume die-hard capitalists like the NSAR would do something simply for the wellbeing of another human without profit," Uyeya responded, now also leaning forward. "I've lived long enough to know your kind. All cut from the same brutally callous cloth, just like the Japanese corporations that tried to squeeze money from Yitankan blood when they fucked over their own economy. Don't get me wrong, I knew this was coming from the moment the deal was proposed. Old dogs, new tricks and whatnot."

A fire burned in the eyes of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, a spark of energy that seemed entirely unfitting for a man of his advancing age. His smile returned, only now twisted from its former welcoming warmth into a sort of wicked grin. It was almost as if he was enjoying the new tone the negotiations had taken.

"We'll be willing to pay," Mr. Uyeya continued, "but not per head. We know you'd sell us every jaywalker and their mother given the chance, and frankly we don't want them. If we incentivize maximizing transfers I'm sure you all are clever enough to find a way to screw us over and make a tidy sum from it. So instead we're going to offer something a little less...orthodox. Yitanka is rich in oil and many different types of natural ores, especially gold. We'll be more than happy to keep a deal going where we sell you one or more of these resources at 50% below market price and set you up as 'most favorable nation' for such exports. In addition, we're willing to lift some of the tariffs on NSAR goods we import. But all of this will be contingent on you sending us your communists instead of blowing their brains out. If we make this deal and find out you're still killing communists instead of sending them our way there'll be hell to pay. The Supreme Soviet isn't much of the forgiving type."

[New San Andreas Republic]

"Now you don't have to worry about that. First thing that happens if this thing gets signed, is that any political prisoner labelled 'Commie' will be treated nice and special from there on out. We don't hurt them, we don't interrogate them, we don't even call them names that aren't nice. We just wait for your folks to take a look and speak to them at that office you're talking about, which I can assure you, will be built to your exact demands. Our nations may not formally possess embassies or whatnot with one another at the moment, but this will do us just fine. Right in the pristine, touristy-part of Los Santos, that's where you folks'll be. You'll have full access to the prisoners, and you can ask what ya like."

Mr. Robbins, as he had seemingly developed a disturbing habit of doing numerous times, then switched from his 'friendly, accented big lug' voice to his 'mercenary interest in the situation' voice. The spirit of the NSAR itself seemed to be personified within him.

"I think I'll just state this plainly. When we say 'incentives', we don't just mean you folks coverin' the cost. That's awful nice of you and whatnot, but I'll tell you what the NSAR is really interested in. Money. per. prisoner. What we're lookin' at here is a mutually beneficial situation, at least in our eyes. For you commies, you get some of your own to teach, re-educate, torture, whatever you've got in mind. For us, we get paid per prisoner we deliver to you. We make a profit. We both scratch each other's backs, and the commies get more commies, and the 'capitalist scum' as you may know us get an incentive to continue looking for Communists and keep them out of our nation. This is for our convenience but the NSAR is always looking to benefit from any situation, even moreso than just getting a problem of our backs. The Grand Khans can tell you what happens when there is no profit incentive for the NSAR to keep em' around."

This is where Mr. Uyeya's smile finally faded. The façade of pleasantry and unconditional hospitality vanished in an instant as the true negotiations finally began.

"I suppose it would have been foolish of me to assume die-hard capitalists like the NSAR would do something simply for the wellbeing of another human without profit," Uyeya responded, now also leaning forward. "I've lived long enough to know your kind. All cut from the same brutally callous cloth, just like the Japanese corporations that tried to squeeze money from Yitankan blood when they fucked over their own economy. Don't get me wrong, I knew this was coming from the moment the deal was proposed. Old dogs, new tricks and whatnot."

A fire burned in the eyes of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, a spark of energy that seemed entirely unfitting for a man of his advancing age. His smile returned, only now twisted from its former welcoming warmth into a sort of wicked grin. It was almost as if he was enjoying the new tone the negotiations had taken.

"We'll be willing to pay," Mr. Uyeya continued, "but not per head. We know you'd sell us every jaywalker and their mother given the chance, and frankly we don't want them. If we incentivize maximizing transfers I'm sure you all are clever enough to find a way to screw us over and make a tidy sum from it. So instead we're going to offer something a little less...orthodox. Yitanka is rich in oil and many different types of natural ores, especially gold. We'll be more than happy to keep a deal going where we sell you one or more of these resources at 50% below market price and set you up as 'most favorable nation' for such exports. In addition, we're willing to lift some of the tariffs on NSAR goods we import. But all of this will be contingent on you sending us your communists instead of blowing their brains out. If we make this deal and find out you're still killing communists instead of sending them our way there'll be hell to pay. The Supreme Soviet isn't much of the forgiving type."

Mr. Robbins noticed the change in tone from his Yitankan counterpart, and in a way, also found some form of oddly demented enjoyment in it. It finally felt as though the two were seeing one in another in what they truly represented in their most naked and shameless forms. The representatives of two societies with radically different ways of existence, and indeed it seemed the two understood each other better now. The insults and aspersions Mr. Uyeya had made about their capitalist lack of morals and propensity for weasel-like opportunism weren't taken personally at all. He had his own opinions on commies, after all, nuclear apocalypse-causers still firmly in his mind. The time for trite comments about the quality of water or the trip here had ended. The time for passive-aggressive insults, haggling and teeth-clenched handshakes had begun. It was diplomacy, as he liked to think of it, NSAR-style.

"Mmm... that does sound tempting. Certainly tempting. We definitely need resources, what being a... scarred landscape changed forever by a grand war of hellfire centuries ago. You can't imagine how hard things have been for our society, and even today most in the NSAR still live an agricultural, simple life of farming, Brahmin-rearing and just making ends meet. The idea of us gettin' far cheaper access to resources like oil and whatnot, to rebuild... to improve our society, all off the back of you commies and even paying for it with our 'dirty capitalist' money... Heh. There's something beautiful in the concept of that. Chinese commies destroy the world centuries ago, and Yitankan commies help us rebuild it in the way our American forefathers would have always wanted. Even disregardin' the logistical benefits and ways in which this will boost the military in our war against the Legion, I can certainly see this working as an alternative..."

Not leaving Mr. Uyeya's eye contact, Mr. Robbins briefly paused and unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, downing the rest in a quick gulp as the Adam's apple in his throat went up and down. Letting out a sigh of refreshment rather loudly, he let up a finger of 'hold on a second' to his bedfellow of negotiation across the table and whispered something to the aide he'd brought. It was inaudible, but you could hear the centuries-surviving strong Californian accent of his aide as she politely said 'Right away, sir.' A minute or so later, it was clear Mr. Robbins had found his own way of further refreshment from back home: a Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle, ice-cold and Pre-War. They'd been reserved for diplomats like himself, and it was almost as though he was showing it off for some reason. The bottle cap was removed, and after taking a refreshing gulp of the taste of the American Southwest, he eyed the disgarded bottle cap as he continued to speak. There was a visible shiny blue star under the top of the cap.

"The well-being of another human being... without profit. An interestin' point you raise. It's a point... well, you'll pardon my possible rudeness and disrespect when I tell you it's born out of naïveté. It takes a nation who has never understood the baptism of fire that the Great War brought and the cruel lawless world it invoked to make a point like that. Everything the New San Andreas Republic does is for the benefit of the 2 million or so San Andreans who call it home. We fight slavery in the Senora Wasteland against Caligula's Legion because we fight on the side of the morally just for the sake of our people. We care about San Andreans now, who live now... there are no die-hard communists among our people. There are foreigners, however, who have attempted to subvert our way of life with such poison. We have no reason to care about such people. Such people deserve no well-being when they subscribe to a way of life that our ancestors fought tooth-and-nail to fight in the almost-now mythical land of China. You clearly care for such people, and their rights, so we seek a way to benefit. It's as simple as that."

Another quick gulp of West-style cowboy sarsaparilla, and a clearing of the throat. It was clear Mr. Robbins was going to finish.

"Anyhow, this is all beside the point. We hear your unorthodox proposal and it's appreciated. It's certainly good as a baseline, as an expectation, a... uh... foundation, if you will. But, as always, we look at this proposal the way we look at any: how will this benefit the San Andrean people? By showing mercy to a group of Reds from here on out that would ordinarily be on the receiving end of a Service Rifle, we're using up resources and possibly even endangering our guys to a degree. Sure, your proposal will help. The San Andrean people will appreciate the resources you can sell us. Oil, gold, building stuff... all of it helps. But we need further assurances. An expectation that a 'most favorable nation' is entitled to more than just economic sweet-talking. How about this: a formal condemnation by the Yitankan government of our greatest of enemies, the slavers and imperialists of Caligula's Legion, and some form of aid in our direction that helps us fight them. We're talkin' sanctions, intelligence, hell... even just nasty words if you can spare them. Anything to help us in our fight for a good cause."

"We have our differences in how we view the world, but I'm sure even you are appalled by the horrors of slavery. Commie or not, anyone morally in-tact would be..."

The Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle saw another bit of love as Mr. Robbins awaited a response.

[Yitanka]

Mr. Robbins noticed the change in tone from his Yitankan counterpart, and in a way, also found some form of oddly demented enjoyment in it. It finally felt as though the two were seeing one in another in what they truly represented in their most naked and shameless forms. The representatives of two societies with radically different ways of existence, and indeed it seemed the two understood each other better now. The insults and aspersions Mr. Uyeya had made about their capitalist lack of morals and propensity for weasel-like opportunism weren't taken personally at all. He had his own opinions on commies, after all, nuclear apocalypse-causers still firmly in his mind. The time for trite comments about the quality of water or the trip here had ended. The time for passive-aggressive insults, haggling and teeth-clenched handshakes had begun. It was diplomacy, as he liked to think of it, NSAR-style.

"Mmm... that does sound tempting. Certainly tempting. We definitely need resources, what being a... scarred landscape changed forever by a grand war of hellfire centuries ago. You can't imagine how hard things have been for our society, and even today most in the NSAR still live an agricultural, simple life of farming, Brahmin-rearing and just making ends meet. The idea of us gettin' far cheaper access to resources like oil and whatnot, to rebuild... to improve our society, all off the back of you commies and even paying for it with our 'dirty capitalist' money... Heh. There's something beautiful in the concept of that. Chinese commies destroy the world centuries ago, and Yitankan commies help us rebuild it in the way our American forefathers would have always wanted. Even disregardin' the logistical benefits and ways in which this will boost the military in our war against the Legion, I can certainly see this working as an alternative..."

Not leaving Mr. Uyeya's eye contact, Mr. Robbins briefly paused and unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, downing the rest in a quick gulp as the Adam's apple in his throat went up and down. Letting out a sigh of refreshment rather loudly, he let up a finger of 'hold on a second' to his bedfellow of negotiation across the table and whispered something to the aide he'd brought. It was inaudible, but you could hear the centuries-surviving strong Californian accent of his aide as she politely said 'Right away, sir.' A minute or so later, it was clear Mr. Robbins had found his own way of further refreshment from back home: a Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle, ice-cold and Pre-War. They'd been reserved for diplomats like himself, and it was almost as though he was showing it off for some reason. The bottle cap was removed, and after taking a refreshing gulp of the taste of the American Southwest, he eyed the disgarded bottle cap as he continued to speak. There was a visible shiny blue star under the top of the cap.

"The well-being of another human being... without profit. An interestin' point you raise. It's a point... well, you'll pardon my possible rudeness and disrespect when I tell you it's born out of naïveté. It takes a nation who has never understood the baptism of fire that the Great War brought and the cruel lawless world it invoked to make a point like that. Everything the New San Andreas Republic does is for the benefit of the 2 million or so San Andreans who call it home. We fight slavery in the Senora Wasteland against Caligula's Legion because we fight on the side of the morally just for the sake of our people. We care about San Andreans now, who live now... there are no die-hard communists among our people. There are foreigners, however, who have attempted to subvert our way of life with such poison. We have no reason to care about such people. Such people deserve no well-being when they subscribe to a way of life that our ancestors fought tooth-and-nail to fight in the almost-now mythical land of China. You clearly care for such people, and their rights, so we seek a way to benefit. It's as simple as that."

Another quick gulp of West-style cowboy sarsaparilla, and a clearing of the throat. It was clear Mr. Robbins was going to finish.

"Anyhow, this is all beside the point. We hear your unorthodox proposal and it's appreciated. It's certainly good as a baseline, as an expectation, a... uh... foundation, if you will. But, as always, we look at this proposal the way we look at any: how will this benefit the San Andrean people? By showing mercy to a group of Reds from here on out that would ordinarily be on the receiving end of a Service Rifle, we're using up resources and possibly even endangering our guys to a degree. Sure, your proposal will help. The San Andrean people will appreciate the resources you can sell us. Oil, gold, building stuff... all of it helps. But we need further assurances. An expectation that a 'most favorable nation' is entitled to more than just economic sweet-talking. How about this: a formal condemnation by the Yitankan government of our greatest of enemies, the slavers and imperialists of Caligula's Legion, and some form of aid in our direction that helps us fight them. We're talkin' sanctions, intelligence, hell... even just nasty words if you can spare them. Anything to help us in our fight for a good cause."

"We have our differences in how we view the world, but I'm sure even you are appalled by the horrors of slavery. Commie or not, anyone morally in-tact would be..."

The Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle saw another bit of love as Mr. Robbins awaited a response.

Hearing all the NSAR representative had to say, Mr. Uyeya took a sip of water and responded.

"Mr. Robins, I'm sure you're not acquainted with the history of Yitanka and its people," he said, putting his water bottle back on the table. "To be fair, we're some small, unnoticeable nation out in the middle of nowhere straddling the Arctic Circle. Basically no one knows us. But I think your people and ours have a lot more in common than you realize. You know who the first settlers of the Yitan peninsula were? Pirates and anarchist rebels. For nearly 300 years there was nothing the Yitans valued more than the freedom to live our life they way we wanted to: By the sweat of our brow and maybe also raiding the Chinese coastline for profit. Then came the Tsarists, then the Soviets, then the Japanese corporations. We..."

Mr. Uyeya paused for a moment. He looked around at his aides, including one of the state's political commissars.

"If you would," he said, turning to the other Yitankans in the room, "please leave the room. And turn off the camera. If the National Security Committee has a problem with it I'll talk to them later."

There was a hesitancy in Uyeya's staff. They had always known him to operate by the books. Not once had he made such a request. But at the end of the day he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and they were in no position to disobey. So they complied, leaving Uyeya alone with Mr. Robbins and his own aides.

"Sorry," he said, returning to the conversation at hand, "I'm going to say some things the Party probably doesn't want me to say. Where was I? Ah, right...Tsarists, Soviets, Japanese. But despite all that, despite all this, nothing has broken the Yitankan spirit. We're still pirates and rebels at heart, not communist clockwork dipshits. But it's hard to go back to something after its been over 100 years. Nobody in Yitanka remembers a time when we weren't Soviets. But that fire of freedom is still in there. I still hear whispers of people wanting to strike out on their own and carve out their own life. Hell, I'd be over the moon to sail the seas, plundering from Chinese ports and dodging the Korean navy!"

Mr. Uyeya stopped to give an honest, from the heart laugh. Then he sighed, a smile on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"But instead here I am, dressing up in suits to broker deals with people who'd rather see us erased from the maps every day. I sure as hell can play pretend pretty well now, but this was never me. So we may not have survived a nuclear holocaust like your people have, but my people and yours, me and you, we're not so different. I sympathize with you and your people, and honestly if I wasn't worried that I'd end up with an icepick in my skull I'd consider giving life in the NSAR a shot. But knowing the current Chairman of the National Security Committee I've got better odds having by balls blown off with a shotgun before I stepped foot on a plane with the intention of leaving Yitanka for good."

Uyeya looked around nervously, even though he was certain he wasn't being watched.

"And, if we ever have a revolution to get us out of this red-colored shit," he whispered, leaning further in, "I'd appreciate you putting a good word in with your government. That's not a favor I'm asking for or anything, just a personal request. Me to you."

"But we'll return to your counteroffer now. I'm not exactly familiar with Caligula's Legion. But if what you say about them is correct, and I don't doubt you for a second, it'll be an easy sell to the Supreme Soviet. Denouncing slavers and imperialists is basically like breathing to those stuck-up old farts. And guaranteeing aid should you go to war is a pretty simple ask. What exactly that would be is up to the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, but Yitanka has been itching to get involved in a fight like that, so I wouldn't be surprised if we got stuck in right alongside you all. We can accept these terms, but I do need to ask what resources the NSAR needs the most so I know what will be part of the deal. Then it's just a matter of signatures and going through 10 metric tons of paperwork."

[New San Andreas Republic]

Hearing all the NSAR representative had to say, Mr. Uyeya took a sip of water and responded.

"Mr. Robins, I'm sure you're not acquainted with the history of Yitanka and its people," he said, putting his water bottle back on the table. "To be fair, we're some small, unnoticeable nation out in the middle of nowhere straddling the Arctic Circle. Basically no one knows us. But I think your people and ours have a lot more in common than you realize. You know who the first settlers of the Yitan peninsula were? Pirates and anarchist rebels. For nearly 300 years there was nothing the Yitans valued more than the freedom to live our life they way we wanted to: By the sweat of our brow and maybe also raiding the Chinese coastline for profit. Then came the Tsarists, then the Soviets, then the Japanese corporations. We..."

Mr. Uyeya paused for a moment. He looked around at his aides, including one of the state's political commissars.

"If you would," he said, turning to the other Yitankans in the room, "please leave the room. And turn off the camera. If the National Security Committee has a problem with it I'll talk to them later."

There was a hesitancy in Uyeya's staff. They had always known him to operate by the books. Not once had he made such a request. But at the end of the day he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and they were in no position to disobey. So they complied, leaving Uyeya alone with Mr. Robbins and his own aides.

"Sorry," he said, returning to the conversation at hand, "I'm going to say some things the Party probably doesn't want me to say. Where was I? Ah, right...Tsarists, Soviets, Japanese. But despite all that, despite all this, nothing has broken the Yitankan spirit. We're still pirates and rebels at heart, not communist clockwork dipshits. But it's hard to go back to something after its been over 100 years. Nobody in Yitanka remembers a time when we weren't Soviets. But that fire of freedom is still in there. I still hear whispers of people wanting to strike out on their own and carve out their own life. Hell, I'd be over the moon to sail the seas, plundering from Chinese ports and dodging the Korean navy!"

Mr. Uyeya stopped to give an honest, from the heart laugh. Then he sighed, a smile on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"But instead here I am, dressing up in suits to broker deals with people who'd rather see us erased from the maps every day. I sure as hell can play pretend pretty well now, but this was never me. So we may not have survived a nuclear holocaust like your people have, but my people and yours, me and you, we're not so different. I sympathize with you and your people, and honestly if I wasn't worried that I'd end up with an icepick in my skull I'd consider giving life in the NSAR a shot. But knowing the current Chairman of the National Security Committee I've got better odds having by balls blown off with a shotgun before I stepped foot on a plane with the intention of leaving Yitanka for good."

Uyeya looked around nervously, even though he was certain he wasn't being watched.

"And, if we ever have a revolution to get us out of this red-colored shit," he whispered, leaning further in, "I'd appreciate you putting a good word in with your government. That's not a favor I'm asking for or anything, just a personal request. Me to you."

"But we'll return to your counteroffer now. I'm not exactly familiar with Caligula's Legion. But if what you say about them is correct, and I don't doubt you for a second, it'll be an easy sell to the Supreme Soviet. Denouncing slavers and imperialists is basically like breathing to those stuck-up old farts. And guaranteeing aid should you go to war is a pretty simple ask. What exactly that would be is up to the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, but Yitanka has been itching to get involved in a fight like that, so I wouldn't be surprised if we got stuck in right alongside you all. We can accept these terms, but I do need to ask what resources the NSAR needs the most so I know what will be part of the deal. Then it's just a matter of signatures and going through 10 metric tons of paperwork."

Mr. Robbins sat wide-eyed, his cocky smile and almost facetious attitude of humor found in the situation somewhat lost through surprise. He had certainly not expected this. Though he had found the seemingly lax nature in which Uyeya had tolerated his slights and slurs about Reds somewhat odd, he assumed it was diplomatic tolerance at its peak. Avoiding eye contact with the man across the table who had just defied his intial impression of him, he stared at the worn label of the Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle and tried to think about how to react to this. Had he... emboldened something? Did this... Uyeya figure view him as his chance to speak freely? Was this a cry for help? No, of course, not. It was more... a dropping of a pretense. A reminder that within all people, diplomats and all, an uncontrollable human spirit still existed that went beyond ideologies. There were just some dedicated to the job, not the color. He saw that in Uyeya now, and mentally resigned to drop any and all uses of 'red' or 'commie' in his address.

Clearing his throat, and turning his attention away from the Pre-War treat, he sighed and began to speak. It was no longer the confident big-lug of friendliness he had begun as, or even the mercenary with the Republic's interests forefront, it was more nervous and unsure.

"W-well... uhh, Mr. Uyeya, to explain the resources we would aim to receive at a discount, I imagine we will require... I will have to receive reports from the Department, but from my preliminary and immediate knowledge of our situation the NSAR requires... uh your mentioned oil and gas resources, for one. We need things like rubber, steel, various kinds of construction materials... things that, y'know, you'd find difficult to produce in our kind of environment. We've very limited in our industrial capacity at the moment. Parts for vehicles, and hell, just new vehicles in their entirely if we're honest. We can't keep usin' pre-war U.S. Army ones... Gold, that's another. Oh... and maybe some more exotic food? We've been hearin' a lotta belly-aching from grunts about they're sick of squirrel-stew for rations and want something new."

Mr. Robbins almost stopped talking completely, he wanted to go back to thinking. He'd been taken aback, thinking that this discussion would be a stand-off in some regards between two opposite ways of life. Instead, he did see the similarities between the Yitankans and San Andreans. The hardship and the histories, the comparisons were there. In a way, he could have felt he'd won a small ideological victory, showing that in the Communist system, there were cracks... and even one of their highest elected officials seemed to yearn for more. But instead, he just felt an odd mixture of pity and insecurity in how other parts of the world lived. He realized, however, that he had a duty to continue.

"Oh, and as for Caligula's Legion, we aren't requirin' any direct intervention or anything. You have no idea the kinda ruckus that would cause back home if the Brahmin farmers and merchants who dominate the population found out we were sendin' foreigners from uh... wherever in space-time this is, to our own wars back home. They barely even know 'Canadia' exists for godsakes. We're just thinking more in the lines of condemnations, awareness raising, some official statements, maybe some aid in the way of weapons, medical supplies, rations that kinda thing. Just think of things that a bunch a Roman-aspiring dress-up slavers would hate and would be hurt by, and it'll help."

Mr. Robbins sat back in his chair, awaiting Mr. Uyeya's response and studying him with curiousity. Should he say something in regards to the personal 'request' Uyeya mentioned? It was clear he was no longer talking to a die-hard Red as his brain and briefings had impressed upon him, but someone who had yearnings elsewhere. His comment about an icepick in the skull wasn't unwarranted, there were large parts of the Senora and even in the Republic itself that remained somewhat lacking in law, so he wasn't sure an offer involving the NSAR's perception of him or his nation would help Uyeya personally too much. But still, he felt compelled to say something.

"Oh, and since I can see there's a reason all them folks you had are outta the room, I'll see what I can do about your, uhh... suggestion. If what you're hoping for transpires... the Republic might have something for you."

[Yitanka]

Mr. Robbins sat wide-eyed, his cocky smile and almost facetious attitude of humor found in the situation somewhat lost through surprise. He had certainly not expected this. Though he had found the seemingly lax nature in which Uyeya had tolerated his slights and slurs about Reds somewhat odd, he assumed it was diplomatic tolerance at its peak. Avoiding eye contact with the man across the table who had just defied his intial impression of him, he stared at the worn label of the Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle and tried to think about how to react to this. Had he... emboldened something? Did this... Uyeya figure view him as his chance to speak freely? Was this a cry for help? No, of course, not. It was more... a dropping of a pretense. A reminder that within all people, diplomats and all, an uncontrollable human spirit still existed that went beyond ideologies. There were just some dedicated to the job, not the color. He saw that in Uyeya now, and mentally resigned to drop any and all uses of 'red' or 'commie' in his address.

Clearing his throat, and turning his attention away from the Pre-War treat, he sighed and began to speak. It was no longer the confident big-lug of friendliness he had begun as, or even the mercenary with the Republic's interests forefront, it was more nervous and unsure.

"W-well... uhh, Mr. Uyeya, to explain the resources we would aim to receive at a discount, I imagine we will require... I will have to receive reports from the Department, but from my preliminary and immediate knowledge of our situation the NSAR requires... uh your mentioned oil and gas resources, for one. We need things like rubber, steel, various kinds of construction materials... things that, y'know, you'd find difficult to produce in our kind of environment. We've very limited in our industrial capacity at the moment. Parts for vehicles, and hell, just new vehicles in their entirely if we're honest. We can't keep usin' pre-war U.S. Army ones... Gold, that's another. Oh... and maybe some more exotic food? We've been hearin' a lotta belly-aching from grunts about they're sick of squirrel-stew for rations and want something new."

Mr. Robbins almost stopped talking completely, he wanted to go back to thinking. He'd been taken aback, thinking that this discussion would be a stand-off in some regards between two opposite ways of life. Instead, he did see the similarities between the Yitankans and San Andreans. The hardship and the histories, the comparisons were there. In a way, he could have felt he'd won a small ideological victory, showing that in the Communist system, there were cracks... and even one of their highest elected officials seemed to yearn for more. But instead, he just felt an odd mixture of pity and insecurity in how other parts of the world lived. He realized, however, that he had a duty to continue.

"Oh, and as for Caligula's Legion, we aren't requirin' any direct intervention or anything. You have no idea the kinda ruckus that would cause back home if the Brahmin farmers and merchants who dominate the population found out we were sendin' foreigners from uh... wherever in space-time this is, to our own wars back home. They barely even know 'Canadia' exists for godsakes. We're just thinking more in the lines of condemnations, awareness raising, some official statements, maybe some aid in the way of weapons, medical supplies, rations that kinda thing. Just think of things that a bunch a Roman-aspiring dress-up slavers would hate and would be hurt by, and it'll help."

Mr. Robbins sat back in his chair, awaiting Mr. Uyeya's response and studying him with curiousity. Should he say something in regards to the personal 'request' Uyeya mentioned? It was clear he was no longer talking to a die-hard Red as his brain and briefings had impressed upon him, but someone who had yearnings elsewhere. His comment about an icepick in the skull wasn't unwarranted, there were large parts of the Senora and even in the Republic itself that remained somewhat lacking in law, so he wasn't sure an offer involving the NSAR's perception of him or his nation would help Uyeya personally too much. But still, he felt compelled to say something.

"Oh, and since I can see there's a reason all them folks you had are outta the room, I'll see what I can do about your, uhh... suggestion. If what you're hoping for transpires... the Republic might have something for you."

Mr. Uyeya cleared his throat and straightened out his tie. He had surprised even himself with the things that just came out of his mouth. Is this...what he truly believed? What he truly felt? Did he truly wish to leave everything behind and start over elsewhere?

These questions, though carrying the weigh of decades-long repressed feelings, had to be put aside for another time. There was still work to be done.

"Among the things you've listed we can provide oil, steel, gold, and fish as part of the deal," he said, hastily scribbling some notes down on a pad. "We could also build ships for the NSAR, but I'm afraid that would have to be a part of its own separate deal. And as for Caligula's Legion, if the NSAR is not comfortable with direct intervention in such a conflict we won't push it. Though I do hope that this agreement and possible future ones may warm our peoples up towards each other so that we won't be perceived as some far-flung commie bastards interfering in NSAR affairs."

"So, to summarize," Uyeya said as he read from his notepad, "Yitanka will sell oil, steel, gold, and fish to the NSAR at 50% market value and consider the NSAR most favorable nation for these exports. In addition, Yitanka will denounce Caligula's Legion and promise aid to the NSAR should war break out between the two. In return, the NSAR will send communist prisoners to Yitanka instead of inflicting any other punishment and will allow Yitanka to establish an office to vet such prisoners to ensure compliance of the treaty. All additional costs incurred by the upkeep, vetting, and transfer of said prisoners that would not be incurred should the NSAR have carried out their own execution of laws will be funded by Yitanka. Does that sound good?"

[New San Andreas Republic]

"All of that... sounds fine, Mr. Uyeya. Though we did enter these negotiations expecting literal monetary compensation for such measures on the part of our nation, well... I believe we'd both understand what I mean when I say negotiations don't always go how you expect. They... uh.. sometimes surprise you with things."

As though he had almost forgot it was there in front of him, Mr. Robbins picked up and made a quick swig of his Sprunk Sarsaparilla bottle, presumably to clear his throat before he deliberated on the details of the deal he was just about to make.
Though he was a man who had just had a small taste of nuance on how the people of other nations live, the root beer sarsaparilla taste was sweet enough to get his mind back on his work here.

"Yes, I think such offers will suffice. We will happily take your offer for such materials and exports at the cheaper price of 50%, and we will indeed happily take your status as a 'favored' nation. Your commitment regardin' the Legion fellas is a help, although I will note that you may have misunderstood the situation a small degree. It isn't the worry war will break out with 'em, that's long since passed. Hell, we've been at war with 'em for more'n' half a decade now. It's aid in this conflict now we were searchin' for. If you'll stick to what you said, and that hypothetical aid can became actual aid, you'd have not just a trading partner in the NSAR but a friend. And we assure you, in your good faith, that any Commie prisoners from now on are safe. They'll be treated like little red princes, stuck in a cage in a nation they wish they weren't in..."

Robbins wondered whether he should just said that last sentence, since there was a certain sadness that seemed to come across Mr. Uyeya's face when he did. Still, as he always did, he put on his firm smile and let out a somewhat forced but clearly audible cackle laugh. The big-lug, friendly man of the boisterous NSAR was back. He stood up and walked forward for a handshake, and prepared to be led in time to signing of the official papers.

[Yitanka]

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement," Mr. Uyeya said, standing as well and shaking Mr. Robbins's hand. "And hopefully this is the start of a wonderful friendship between our two nations, as strange as it may be to others."

"Though I must ask: Since we initially planned on having other nations sign this treaty or a similar one as well, would you mind if the way the treaty was written allowed for other nations to accept a similar deal? As it stands, this shouldn't negatively impact the NSAR in the slightest concerning the benefits the treaty would provide, but I have to ask anyway or it'd look like we're screwing you over with something you didn't agree to."

"Here..." Mr. Uyeya said, quickly penning a rough draft of the treaty. "It'd look something like...this."

Syunkau Political Asylum Treaty

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In an effort to protect the wellbeing of communists abroad and ensure their safe transfer to the Soviet Socialist Republic of Yitanka, the signatories of this treaty shall abide by the following terms:

1. That the governments beholden to this treaty, in which being part of a communist movement or being associated with a communist ideology are considered criminal offenses, agree to deport such criminals to the Soviet Socialist Republic of Yitanka.

1.a. That said governments shall not inflict any punishment onto such a criminal that is not necessary for their arrest and detention.

1.b. That said governments shall allow the establishment of an office under Yitankan jurisdiction within that nation's borders to allow for the processing of said criminals and other such functions which are required to abide by this treaty.

1.c. That all additional costs incurred by the upkeep, vetting, and transfer of said criminals that would not be incurred should the signatory have carried out their own execution of laws will be funded by Yitanka.

1.d. That Yitanka maintains the full right to accept or reject any prisoner brought to them under this treaty for any reason.

1.e. That criminals rejected by Yitanka shall no longer be guaranteed any protections provided by this treaty.


2. That Yitanka shall export oil, steel, gold, and fish to the the other signatories of this treaty at 50% market value.

2.a. That said signatories shall be considered most favorable nations in relations to the exporting of these good.


3. That the Yitankan government shall formally denounce Caligula's Legion and guarantee aid to the New San Andreas Republic in their conflict against Caligula's Legion.

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Signatories

Shinrau Uyeya
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Soviet Socialist Republic of Yitanka