Confederation of Corrupt Dictators

“I swear to Axon, Eisen is like a damn rodent.”, an exasperated Nicholas Fleming sputtered as he hastily navigated the labyrinth of hallways. The footsteps of the Foreign Affairs director and his deputy both drummed into a chaotic rhythm within the acoustic encasing of the headquarter corridors.

To Fleming’s side, Edward Voigt sneered, “Well he is one eighth zic-”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”, Between each sentence, the slightly less bigoted superior took sharp breaths, “I’m just saying he I keeps scrambling place to place under my radar.”

Above the officials, fluorescent lines of lighting embedded into the ceilings enveloped the halls with a powering argon blue glow. Flanking them in all directions was a squadron of bodyguards and assistants, sailing through the sea-like flow of hustling agents, who were all seemingly indifferent to the presence of 2 cabinet members.

“Are you sure that squabbler is even here? He surely should have been notified to rendez-vous here in the Norvelk HQ. Knowing him, I wouldn’t hold any surprise if he’s on the other side of the continent, slouching aimlessly in Roddington. As if his grandparents’ souls can even talk to him, bah!”, Voigt retorted without any disruptive inhalation as they took a sharp turn into another set of corridors.

Fleming let out a sigh, “I guess we’ll have to anyway meet up with the administrator of this facility. Seems we’re headed to his office already.”

A few swerves and maneuvers along the maze of foyers later, and the group were standing face to the entrance door of Bernard Vanderwald’s workroom at the centerpoint in the impertinently busy intelligence headquarters of the impertinently busy city of Norvelk. A restless Nicholas Fleming impatiently twisted his hands full force against the cold steel handle and thrust his body forward. If Aldritch Eisen wasn’t in the building, then Mr. Vanderwald had to represent the CEV.

The office chamber was admittedly quite neatly set up - on both of the room’s far ends scraping the near two story ceiling, bookshelves towered with their literary innards organized by… the color of their covers, subjects/authors be damned; on the direct background loomed an expansive classical painting depicting valiant blue-green uniformed soldiers besieging the city wall of the then Ziconean-controlled Pylamos, now a flourishing Merconian metropole of Pielamburg; a comically long mahogany table stretched exactly as wide as the aforementioned artwork, with multiple seats dotting both sides of its perimeter. The reminiscent atmosphere of the office captivated Fleming for a whole two seconds before noticing something in the foreground.

“Axon, how the hell did you get here?!”, Fleming choked as he instinctively clenched his chest.

Situated where Vanderwald’s seat should have been, a familiar figure leaned forth - his face, bar those distinctive shimmering glasses, masked by interlocked hands on vertically resting elbows.

“Fleming, Voigt. Apologies for not responding to your recent messages. Make yourselves comfortable, we all have a lot to discuss.”

Director Eisen pushed back his glasses. Ahead and to the left of him, a thin and highly sophisticated silver-coated laptop laid ajar atop the tabular desk. Populating the opposing half of the wooden counter was a coffee machine, and about a dozen light green ceramic cups engraved with the slogan “Merconia, f*ck yeah!” below the 4-pointed compass-star of that symbolized the dominant faith of Stellate Axonity.

While Fleming seemingly recaptured his standing in the surrounding world and settled unto one of the vacant seats, Voigt stared blankly at the CEV director for a brief moment - one that stretched for years, “We ought to put a collar with the loudest bells in the country on you.”

“Just take a seat.”, standing directly to the right of Eisen was the man the cabinet officials intended to encounter when they initially barged in. Bernard Vanderwald was tall in stature, his salt and pepper grey hair slickly combed to the back of his head, in likewise manner that he held his hands behind his back. The near-elderly yet sharp administrator gave a slight but charismatic smirk that emanated an undeniable bout of confidence.

Before the situation could get any more derailed, Fleming shattered the web of tension steering straight to the subject matter at hand, “You should already know why we’re here. As far as the lawmakers snoozing at the Federal Assembly are aware, this meeting doesn’t exist.”

“Correct.”, Eisen asserted, before extending his right hand, “Bernard?”

“Ah yes.”, on cue, Vanderwald pulled a black USB thumbdrive out from his back pocket, “The good men here have been working tirelessly. This little Johnson right here, the work of the world’s best eavesdroppers in the Alpha department the floor right above us.”

After relishing a prolonged glance at the encapsulated data, Vanderwald casually hurled it straight onto the director’s palm.

As the computer was booted up, the recognizable logo of Serenity - a simple white lotus silhouette glowing against a dark navy blue backdrop - gleamed from the monitor. In the timeframe needed to translate the information encrypted in the flash drive onto the laptop, Eisen multitasked to ensure no audial void would engulf the room.

“The coffee brewer is full, indulge however much you desire.”

Fleming hurdled his arm forward, eager to be the first in the group to inject caffeine into his bloodstream. Invigorated by the first swig, he grinned “Say you’ve checked the news lately?”

Vanderwald chuckled, “Eisen owes me a couple spirits for the latest Kaavenberg Times headlines. Word for word. I didn’t tell them to use the term ‘Soltierran lynch mobs’, they just instinctively throw the most eye-catching titles.”

“Which just so happen to be in line with what we’ve set out. I mean they’re not fully wrong, the Soltierrans have not dissimilar methods as the crude and barbarous Cierridans.”, Voigt interjected, materializing a cigarette, “Its days like this I appreciate that our media is a load of useful idiots. Except EMNN. They’re useful, but not idiots. Things could really be a lot simpler in that waste of a peninsula if we-”

A brief silencing echo washed over the room like a shallow wave against the shore as the CEV director cleared his throat - once again in his signature finger tent pose.“Everyone who isn’t in the United Federation Cabinet, step outside.”

———

The fast-paced rhythmic rolling flow of the Estredenan tongue, concurrent with spontaneous statics, reverberated into the furthest chasms of the capacious office chamber. The multilinguality of all four men still situated in the room, trained out of very real vitality given governmental relations with Solmara, abolished any necessity of a translational side-audio. An insignificant chill encased the office, lasting seemingly milliseconds before the microscopic icicles broke in the instantaneous moment following the end of the series of wiretapped transmissions.

“Listening to them speak is always an experience. Musical, raggedy, emotionally charged”, a rapt Fleming blatantly retorted.

“Ape-like”, a less intent and more impatient Voigt commented.

Vanderwald interrupted, “Give the Soltierrans some grace. They seem fairly stressed, understandable given the tense circumstances the peninsula is under. But so far everything is going in line with the scenario, which you should be well-versed in.”

“He’s right.”, Fleming tilted his head as he eyed his subordinate, “Those ‘apes’ are right where we need them to be. Their most purge-happy elements should take charge. I concur that we’re still in the beginning phase, correct?”

“Affirmative. Additional sleeper agents and middlemen are being assigned to designated municipalities as of this moment. Expect no centimeter of Soltierran soil to be outside our audial reach within a two day timeframe.”, Aldritch Eisen made no expression showcasing any sort of doubt in his own words. Though for someone like him, whether or not he had faith was impossible to totally discern.

Voigt formed his own finger tent, nicotine consistently emitting from the third cigarette in his just opened pack, “Well that is already a given. If any nook and cranny in the deepest jungles is left untapped, I’ll see atleast someone laid off. But if we’ll finalize this first stage of the scenario a couple days from now, how long should we expect this Siren Initiative to have to truly enter fruition? Afterall, keeping you reigned tightly in line is why we physically came here.”

“Ugh, still can’t forgive the guys over at the Braunsburg HQ for sending a photo-edited report. Being in a time crunch is not an excuse when you are the one who set it…”, Fleming recalled.

“The conditions for this path have been laid out by existent factors.”, Director Eisen’s glasses once again entered their white illuminated state as he leaned ever so slightly upward, “We have all the time in the world, but we don’t have all the space in the world. Thus it is instrumental that Orotina is in utmost condition, as promised.”

“We cannot promise Soltierra will be fixed overnight. But what we can promise could hold far greater benefits in the long run. Something transcending physical victory.”, Vanderwald held his upright posture, while apparently gazing aimlessly with neither of the officials in his direct line of sight.

Aldritch noticed the tense expression molded onto Edward Voigt’s face, “If all scenarios fail, I will not resist if you get the cabinet to agree to your plans. Our up-to-date Chlorine Trifluoride stockpile will be freely available for unrestrained usage if it so happens a sterile waste is the most beneficial thing for us to realize.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Frederick Davidson a day in advance. He can hold off his loan until we get that place cleaned up.”, a sarcastic Fleming thought out loud.

“I think you’ll have more to answer to than just Davidson mining.”, Vanderwald added, “I shudder how many billions of taxpayer credits will go down the drain decontaminating that region if we were somehow cornered into scenario Z.”

“Yeah but we’ll have the biggest pathogen cleaned off from there. Like hand sanitizer.”

“Voigt.”, Fleming propped his hand on the pouting warmonger’s shoulder, “Let these guys cook up with the more cost-effective initiative. We will make sure they stay in line, but I trust them. Remember the 90s? We just need to hold up the diplomatic end and I see no reason why that same streak can’t be repeated.”

As the two leading figures of the Department of Foreign Affairs whispered, Vanderwald leaned toward the mahogany table and swiftly changed tabs on the computer screen from the audio-player to an extensive zoomed-out page decorated by a long list of names and corresponding photographs. The regional administrator snapped his fingers to capture the duo’s attention, before meticulously scrolling down the web page and back up.

“It is incomplete, I know. But again, give us two days.”, Vanderwald returned to his charming upright position, hands firmly clasped against his backbone.

Fleming nodded, “Your men are the floor above us correct? Main room? I ought to thank them for organizing this so well. You have my permission to deal with any labor hipster who wants to marginally cut the CEV budget, I’ll handle PR, heh.”,

“I say we head there now. To check up.”, added a now more down-to-avaris Voigt.

At last, Eisen arose from his sedentary position and readjusted his glasses, “It is much appreciated your support for the Siren Initiative. If events go in line with the program, expect an accomplishment that should far surpass any previous foreign policy endeavors of this century…”, Vanderwald by his side, “The intricateness of man is truly fascinating. The human need to adapt and overcome whatever is thrown at them. You may consider them simian, but our enemies very much hold a degree of human ingenuity enough to adapt to our tactics….”

“…We shall strike the Vondagist tumor in a place they will not see coming. The soul.”