The New World

Protagonist

Warlord
Joined
Mar 10, 2014
Messages
175
AN: Hello, and welcome! This is the thread for the New World, a story based on a playthrough of a heavily modded civilization game. Including Eblair's Snipers, Barbarians Evolved, and many new civilizations. Some of which I quickly put together myself for use in this story.

Keep in mind, though, this is a good story first and a playthrough second-I'll use IGE and such if it makes the story more interesting

Feedback welcome!




Spoiler Chapter 1: A Civilization to Stand the Test of Time :

I've had...recurring dreams, of a sort. In it, a great spirit-God, perhaps-takes me back, to the day before the cataclysm. Men and women being lined up, and walking into the emergency bunker. Soldiers were stopping people from entering when they were starting to fill up. Those who got inside were put into cryogenic stasis for 300 years.
I'm told about the virtues of the people I command-their self-reliance, their optimism, their tolerance, and others. I'm asked if I'm worthy to lead these people. And, to be honest, I'm not sure.

The Chapel says I'm having visions. Personally, I just think I'm nervous-I've only taken office recently. I'm President Rogers of the United Federation, and as the elected leader, I will lead my people to glory.
They say it's clear to leave, so I've sent scouting teams to investigate the nearby area. I'm hoping they'll be able to rediscover technology. So much was lost during the Cataclysm.
They've already discovered something interesting in the Southwest: Columbia. For those unaware, Columbia was a floating city constructed by the US government before the cataclysm. They eventually seceded from the Union (and by that, I mean, they flew away never to be seen until now). However, their flying city couldn't stay in the air forever, so they've had to land.

As the leader of the government succeeding the United States, I'm very interested in learning what's happened to Columbia while it was away. I'd like to be optimistic-the Columbians are, arguably, our people. Though, I've been told their state was founded by a racist Neo-Confederate theocrat...and no evidence to support that they've changed. They still speak of "The Sodom Below" even as they touch the ground.

In addition to Columbia, our island is mostly populated by tribes. After the Cataclysm, a few survived even without the help of underground bunkers-but they were brought back down to the Stone Age. Barring external help, I don’t believe they’ll be able to recover to form true nation-states. Nonetheless, we expect them to be helpful-they’ve survived in the wastes. They probably have all sorts of skills that we’ll find useful.

On a more pressing note: we’ve discovered a subspace portal. Just before the Cataclysm occurred, there were odd figures called "Polygons" that were sighted. Some were saying it was a sign of the apocalypse. It would be one hell of a coincidence if they were not, all things considered.

Polygons attack almost everything they see. They know neither remorse nor pity nor fear. They cannot be reasoned with. They’ve been harassing the local tribes. I’ve sent my police to deal with the problem. Luckily, they aren’t known for being particularly tough.


AN: I'm having the Polygons represent the Barbarians in the game.





Spoiler Chapter 2: The First Polygon Crusade :


Ted was the Squad leader of Atlas Team, from the Security group of the Federation, the Guardian Unit of Nations, also known as GUN. He was a blond man with slightly spikey hair. They marched to the subspace portal. They wore police uniforms and carried truncheons.

There stood four black obelisks. Buzzing around them was a swarm of "shadow bugs", which occasionally formed into a Polygon. In the very center was the subspace portal itself-a black sphere. It was only a one-way portal, traveling into subspace was impossible. Floating in the air above the obelisks were a few humanoid figures. They couldn't make out much, but they were up in the air, seemingly unconscious.
The Polygons themselves looked like humanoid figures made out of some sort of purplish crystal. Upon seeing the Federation Police, they began to walk slowly towards them, as if hesitating a moment. They slowly sped up until they were sprinting, and charged after them.

The Police Officers raised their batons and prepared for the attack. The Polygons were unarmed, but they had enough understanding of martial arts that they didn't really need weapons. In addition, getting punched with a crystal fist hurt like hell.

One polygon ran up to Ted, and prepared to punch him. Ted blocked the attack with his left arm, deflecting it away, and then grabbing it. He then did a sweep kick, and forced the Polygon to the ground. He then "brained" it with his baton, until its head shattered, at which point the whole thing dissolved back into shadow bugs, which fled the battle.

He was then tackled from the side by a Polygon, and was on the ground, being kicked by the Polygon. Suddenly, a man in a brown uniform attacked the Polygon with an odd, hook-shaped device, a "Skyhook", as it would later be called. He lifted the Polygon up by its neck with the device, and crushed it, decapitating the Polygon.
The man helped Ted up and asked "Are you ok, son?".

Ted nodded and said "Yes sir". He looked at him. He wore an insignia marking him as a member of the "Founders"-Columbia's ruling party.
The Founder officer said "Alright: Have your men take down the pillars. We'll fight off the Polygons".

The GUN officers that were still able to get up did so, and then threw ropes around the obelisks, and pulled them to the ground. Once it fell, the portal shrank and disappeared. The people were let down. They were all physically fit black men.

It made sense in Ted's mind now: Those people were slaves, kidnapped by the Polygons for God knows what purpose. The Founders were here to recover their lost "property".
A Founder officer said "Thanks for the assist, Grounder". They approached the people in question, bound them up, and proceeded to take them away. The slaves didn't resist; they were just happy to be alive.
The GUN soldiers watched in horror. But they were too weak to fight these guys. Not to mention it might start a war-that'd be no good. Ted gave an order: “Alright. We closed the portal. Let's go home."




Spoiler Chapter 3: Foreign Policy :


After our first great success, I’ve sent my police to destroy more subspace portals. So far, we’ve been entirely victorious. Our many campaigns against the Subspace have left the tribes grateful. We’ve opened trade with them. They’ve survived in post-apocalyptic conditions for a long time-we could probably learn a thing or two from them.
We’ve expanded and constructed 2 more settlements-Empire City, and Westopolis. Our nation cannot long endure as just Central.
We’ve done more research into Columbia. At first we suspected them to be modeled after the Confederacy. However, the truth is even worse than that. At this point, they’ve gone basically Fascist. Fascism is hard to define, but they meet 13 of 14 criteria of Rense’s characteristics of Fascism. The only criteria they miss is that there’s little-to-no sexism in their society. But, in every other way, they are Fascists.
In Columbia, Democracy is dead. They pray to their leader, who they view as a messiah. Religious dissidents are executed. Their display of politics and history is religious in tone, viewing certain figures (such as Abraham Lincoln) as an Anti-Christ. Their schools teach their children to hate and to celebrate their atrocities. They are extraordinarily racist, more so than the Confederacy, but perhaps less so than the Nazis.
I’ve done research on Comstock’s cult of personality. It’s headache and nausea inducing, but entirely necessary. Their religion believes that Comstock was visited by an Archangel known as Columbia. The angel told him, supposedly, that the United States was some sort of Eden, until Abraham Lincoln ruined everything. So, he had to split off from it. However, it’s his child, a girl named Elizabeth, who’s truly their messiah.
There’s some debate going on as what to do about Columbia. Some believe that what they do has nothing to do with us, so we should leave them alone. Others, like Abraham Tower, believe that we should destroy them the moment we have the chance.
I’ve made my decision: I’m not going to declare war on them until we’re provoked, but that does not mean I have to help them, nor does it mean that we can’t prepare for war.
They are an extremely militarized society. Though they lost a battle that we won, make no mistake-that was just a scouting party. Their army is much larger than ours.
However, I believe the tribals will fight with us, if push were to come to shove. Comstock has thoroughly alienated them. Nonetheless, I’m going to vastly expand our security forces into something that could take on the Founders if necessary.
This will, unfortunately, put a vast strain on our economy. However, it’s better to live today on an all-Raman diet than to live under a lash tomorrow.
I’ve cooperated with the tribes, and we’re assembling a sort of “Underground Railroad”. It’ll help slaves who escape from Columbia into the tribes, and then safely into our territory. By executive order, I’m giving all escaped slaves refugee status and granted asylum.
 
Spoiler Chapter 4: The Polygons Strikes Back! :



Central was growing rapidly, but had yet to become anything one would call a metropolis. There were a few brick houses here and there, but people who lived on the outskirts of the city lived in log cabins. Most houses had vegetable gardens in them.
Commerce occurred in the center of the city-it looked quite like a flea market, in fact. A large marble building, the Presidential Mansion (which doubled as the Capitol Building) was located there, and was surrounded by GUN forces.

There were signs built here and there, which had advertisements and PSAs on them. “Join GUN-For Great Justice!” or “Opti-Cola, quenching your thirst even now!”

A group of workers were building a brick house, when they noticed something over the horizon. A team of Polygons. These ones looked a bit different than what they had seen before. They looked almost feminine in appearance-something about their build. They started to run away.

The Polygon raised a hand, and suddenly, an object resembling a throwing knife appeared in its hand. It tossed it at one of the workers who was running away-it landed in the worker’s leg. He fell over, trying to keep pressure on his wound.

The polygons continued towards the capitol, attacking both people and property as they moved. They broke windows, set fire to buildings, smashed food stands, pulled up crops, and that sort of thing.
The President was sitting in his office, writing a journal entry, when a woman came in.
“Mr. President” she said. “We have reports of Polygons in the city.”
The President nodded. “Alright. Begin emergency procedures. Take me to my panic room.”
On the roof of the building appeared Craig Boone-a man in a white T-shirt and a red bureau. He held in his hand a bow and an arrow. He fired it at one of the Polygons. Once it was hit with the arrow, it fizzled away.
A few more archers chipped in, but more Polygons poured into the city. They couldn’t hold it off on their own. Boone took out a special arrow-a flare-and shot it into the air.
They kept holding them off until, eventually, more GUN forces arrived. Two platoons carrying police batons and bucklers, and a third platoon carrying spears. The spears were found while going out scavenging for more weapons.

The feminine polygons, though having a ranged attack, were much weaker up-close. The groups of GUN officers quickly surrounded them, and then closed in, destroying them.
All in all, the Polygons did roughly 10,000$ in property damages. There were 10 injuries, but only one death.





Spoiler Chapter 5: Welcome to Rapture :


To the east of the United Federation (but on the same landmass as Columbia and the UF), a mysterious group of people settled down and built a city they call “Minerva”. They kept quiet for a while. Nobody was let inside. Until one day, the President received an invitation.

He arrived to the city of Minerva at night by horse carriage. The city was surrounded by a chain link fence. A security camera saw him, and the door automatically opened for him. He was followed by bodyguards.
He walked inside, and saw two men in masks carrying wrenches. The bodyguards reached for their batons, when the President held up a hand. They took their hands off their wrenches.
“This way, mistah prezudunt. Ryan’ll be seein’ ya shortly. Leave your dogs at the door.” said one of the men in masks.

The president nodded and walked into a building with them. The room had a single metal folding chair, a concrete floor, and a giant projector screen. “Wait here” said the two men as they left the room.
The president, noting the only chair in the room, had a seat. He waited about 30 seconds, until the lights went out. Suddenly, the projector lit up, showing a face of a man who looked a bit like Walt Disney.
“Hello, friend. I’m Andrew Ryan, CEO of Ryan Industries, founder of the Rapture Nation, and the Minerva Colony.” His voice sounded flat, almost condescending. “May I ask your name, good President?”
The President stood, put an arm on his chest, and nodded. “I’m President John Rogers of the United Federation.”

Andrew Ryan said “Well met, well met. I suspected the coming of a great cataclysm, so I spent my fortune constructing a city that’d be safe from the cataclysm. A utopia of individualism and freedom, free from tyranny. I want you to know this-I pose no threat to your state, unless you become a parasite to the Rapture people.”
The president crossed his arms. “Why do I get a feeling like I’m being threatened?”

Ryan went on “I’m simply informing you. I built this city to escape the parasites outside. I won’t tolerate anyone who I feel threatens it. Speaking of…I believe you’ve met that…primitive brute, Zachary Comstock? I don’t imagine you two get along.”

The President nodded. “He’s been attacking our bullying our trading partners and criticizing our aid of escaped slaves.”

Ryan said “Then I believe our goals are aligned. The parasite cannot hold off both of our nation’s armies. If we can create a defensive pact, I believe that we can overcome him. Shall we form a team, Mr. President?”
The president thought about it for a moment, and then decided “We need all the help we can get. I think we can both stand to gain from an alliance.”

“We have a deal, then. Very good” said Ryan. The projector blinked off and left the President in a dark room.


 
I ended up having to reset the story-but this'll be great, I'm sure.
Updated, by the way.
 
Spoiler Chapter 6: The Underground Railroad :


The “Underground Railroad” had proven a moderate success. Unlike its namesake, it has legitimate government approval. Once a slave is on Federation soil, it’s legally free. It was funded by several organizations, including private businesses, religious organizations, and the government.

For the most part, slaves were on their own when it came to escaping Columbia. But, if a slave managed to escape Columbian soil, they were still at risk of getting caught by a slave catcher. If they could get to tribal territory, there was a chance of them finding help.

The railroad would give them supplies and sometimes protection, allowing them to escape onto our territory. Once they enter GUN slavery, they’ll be much safer. Anyone attempting to return an escaped slave to Columbia is punished severely.

My popularity, unfortunately, has taken a turn for the worse. A significant chunk of the populace seems to think I’m poking a hornet’s nest here for no real gain. They’re right, of course. Truth be told, even with government approval, freeing a significant proportion of an enslaved population through covert action is difficult. It’s unlikely we’ll ever liberate more than 1% of its enslaved population in this manner.

But! What the people don’t understand is this: it’s not enough simply for the Federation to survive. We must also build a legacy to be proud of.


In the meantime, I’ve gotten word of an escaped person. Not a slave per say-at least not in the sense of ethnic minorities. A white woman, by the name of Elizabeth Comstock…


 
Spoiler Chapter 7: Elizabeth :


The President was dressing unusually casual-by his standards, anyways. He was wearing a white button-up, blue jeans, and a blue tie. It was the kind of thing a politician wears when they want to appeal to the “common folk”. It was non-threatening, which is what Rogers wanted.

He was sitting in a hospital room on a wooden chair, across from Elizabeth, who was sitting on a bed and wearing a patient gown. She had been given a medical examination to make sure she was healthy and not in need of any treatment. She was fine, they discovered.

“I take it you’re the President?” asked Elizabeth. There was obvious nervousness in her voice.

“That’s correct. I’m President John Rogers. I take it you’re Comstock’s daughter?” asked the President.

She almost hesitated to say it. “…Yeah, that’s true.”

The President said “Let me guess-you got tired of the messiah shtick?”

“Actually…I hadn’t heard about it until I already escaped.” Said Elizabeth. “I spent most of my life in a tower, until…” she paused a moment “Booker showed up. My father…is a madman.”

The President nodded. “I’ve heard some pretty silly things about you. I’m sure the stories about you being a reality warping demigoddess are propaganda.”

Elizabeth said “Actually…I…well, I can open tears”. She saw the president in visible confusion. “Let me…show you”. She moved her hand through the air. There was a flash of light-the color of her hospital gown changed from blue to green.

The President was stunned. He’s seen a lot of weird stuff these last few months, but that was surely one of the strangest. He spoke “But that…I…wow”. He put his hand on his chin. “I don’t suppose you…what all can you do with that power?”

Liz crossed her arms and frowned “Not much. Comstock siphoned most of the power out of me, and I don’t know how to control it very well. Most of the changes I can make are as dull as dishwater. Luckily, Comstock doesn’t know how to control the power either.”

The President sighed. He was considering using Liz against Comstock, but that doesn’t appear to be an option right now. “Well, at least you’re not in Columbia. We’re glad to have you on our side.”

Liz smiled. “So am I free to go, now?”

The president said “It’ll be hard to hear this, but I think the Founders are still gunning for you. I strongly suggest seeking a safe place.” An idea came to him. “My mansion. It has a guest room. Why don’t you stay there a while? It has bodyguards surrounding the whole place, you’ll be safe there.”

Liz glanced away, disappointed. She hadn’t hoped to be put in another cage. Still, she knew the President was right. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
 
Spoiler Chapter 8: The Elizabethian Movement :

Elizabeth is a pretty nice house guest. She cleans up after herself very well. She also cooks for herself, and occasionally others. Very low maintenance gal. She does have a habit of making noise at night or in the morning, and her sleep cycle is unpredictable at best (she often has nightmares, too). I blame it on 20 years of not having to worry about waking up the neighbors.

Most interesting news. Word of Elizabeth getting free and being on our side has supposedly led to some kind of spiritual revelation among our people. Basically, the churches of nation have gathered around this idea: Because Elizabeth is the messiah of Comstock’s religion, and Elizabeth likes us. Ergo, either Comstock’s religion is false, or it leads to very different conclusions than I suspect Comstock wanted.

Of course, most people in the UF suspect the former. There’s not very many Comstock-worshippers in our nation thanks to general anti-Founder sentiment. But, this anti-Comstock coalition has become kind of its own organization-they call themselves the Elizabethians. We believe their plan is to spread into Columbia to see what effect that has on them.

Unsurprisingly, Comstock is not playing with this idea. He’s officially declared his daughter to be deceased. I suspect his plan is to recapture her, and then declare her reborn. More messiah stuff. Luckily, you don’t have to be a prophet to know that’s never going to happen.

Liz herself is a bit amused by her new-found fan club. She didn’t have any hand in forming it, or any official leadership, but she’s given it a cautious “thumbs-up”.

I suspect this’ll come and go without being of any importance. But, I kind of like them. They give money to charity, and give our nation something to rally around. Plus, if they can throw a monkey wrench in Comstock’s plan, it’s a good thing.


 
Spoiler Chapter 9: A Meeting with Father Comstock :


Inspired by the Elizabethian movement, our churches were very eager to proselytize in Columbia. Though Columbia's religion was an offshoot of Christianity, it was a highly unorthodox version. It worshipped Comstock, and the old nation’s founders. It existed
Of course, that's where Columbia's weak point was: It couldn't remain stable without its specific religious beliefs.

Getting into town was hard. Claiming to be a "pilgrim" was easy, but they wouldn't fall for that forever. Sometimes they would pretend to be be smugglers carrying good from the Federation, such as lemons (citrus fruits are a major export of the Federation). They would simply show up, say "I'm smuggling in Lemonade," and offer a can to the border patrol as a bribe.

They would take Anti-Comstock literature and switch out the cover for a book of Columbian Propaganda. They might even have the first few pages be Columbian. But, turn past the 15th page, and it's all about the Elizabethian's views. They'd pass them out on the streets, and be gone before anyone else knew a thing.

Life in the underground church was extremely difficult. They met in basements and they lived in constant danger. But nonetheless, they became a notorious thorn in the sides of the Founders.
The President of the United Federation was eventually called to Columbia. He was chauffeured into a park by a horse and buggy. He had guards waiting in the buggy in case things went really south-but they stayed inside.

Sitting at a picnic table in the park was an old man with a large beard. He said "Oh, you've arrived, great leader!". He had a large pot and two bowls set up. He took the lid off of the large bowl, and poured clam chowder into both bowls. "Come, sit". The President suspected Comstock had archers hidden away. Nonetheless, the President took a seat.

Comstock offered his hand. "I'm Father Comstock."

The President shook it and said "President Rogers".

They both took a bite of chowder before continuing. The President noted that the clam chowder was actually quite delicious.

"You like the chowder? It's an old family recipe," said Comstock.
"It's really good." said the President.

Comstock nodded and said "I'm glad you like it. Now...onto business". He started to frown. "I understand that your people strongly believe they are doing the right thing when they protect escaped slaves. Its a viewpoint that we've noticed is very hard to shake from your people. I understand: the people of your nation simply don't know better".

The President crossed his arms. He wasn't impressed by this guy's rhetoric. He raised an eyebrow and said "Your point, Prophet?"

Comstock said "Well, I was hoping I could find your cooperation with another problem I'm having. Religious organizations from inside your nation have...spread their views into our nation...some even deny that I am truly a Prophet," he looked the President straight in the eye and said "My government finds its legitimacy in my prophethood. The Elizabethiasn are a threat to my ability to maintain order within my nation. I was hoping you'd cooperate in efforts to stop the spread of their beliefs into my borders."

The President leaned back in his chair a bit and said "I'm sorry, Prophet, but religious freedom is a cornerstone of my government's legitimacy. If your state can't remain stable with their presence, I suggest finding a way to reform your government."

Comstock was visibly annoyed. Any jollyness that existed before was gone when he said "I see how it must be, then. I'll let you return home to think about what's best for your people's safety. Begone."

The President got up to leave, but then Comstock said "Oh, but take the pot of Chowder, that's a gift."




Spoiler Chapter 10: We are the Pure :

The streets of Emporia were crowded by Comstock’s followers. It was so rare that he spoke publicly like this. Comstock’s voice was projected over the course of the city via intercom systems. He stood on a stage, high above the people. He was surrounded by bodyguards, men in black hoods that covered their face. They looked like a terrifying hybrid of the KKK and the Grim Reaper. They carried swords.

“People of Columbia, my glorious children…” spoke the Prophet, eyes to the ground. The town silenced. “We have undergone much hardships”. He sighed, and raised his eyes up. “The Cataclysm, the Polgyons. Heretics! And…my daughter’s death. But we have persisted in our vision, and in our faith! And in doing so, we have shown our strength to the world. What was once the Sodom Below is now our promised land. Rejoice, for we are the pure!”

The crowd applauded, with a few shouts of “Hallelujah!” here and there. Comstock held up a hand. The Crowd silenced itself again.

“Our great Eden survives, because we have given ourselves fully to its glory. But…there are those who want to take us backwards. A wise man once said: the definition of insanity is trying the same thing, and expecting a different result. We cannot repeat the mistakes of old. We must remain One People! One State! One Leader!”

Thunderous applause shook the city.





Spoiler Chapter 11: The President's denunciation of The Founders :


The President was standing in front of the Capital, on a raised podium, above a large crowd of civilians and soldiers. Two flags were hanging next to him-the Flag of the Guardian Unit of Nations.

“People of Central City, and the United Federation…” he started, slowly, with audible nervousness.

“Many wise men from all eras of humanity have declared that peace is always better than war. This is a noble dream that one day, all mankind will live in harmony. But, in pursuing this dream, we must not lose sight of the reality before us. We must address the threats to our individual rights, and to the rights of every person from all walks of life. We cannot refuse to name our enemy.” He took a deep, but inaudible breath. He’d given speeches before-but he never quite got used to the stress. Only better at hiding it. What he was about to say would be controversial, for sure-but it was what he felt needed to be said.

“The nation-state of Columbia is run entirely by a party known as the Founders. However, Columbia was actually founded by the United States Government in the year 1893. The Founders were a radical, proto-fascist political party which high-jacked and stole the entire city! And they set up a tyranny, brutally oppressive to its own people.” he declared. “And when they landed on Terra Firma, they did not hesitate for a moment to begin harassing the tribal states. They’ve stolen money from them, and captured their people to use as slave labor.

Some have accused me of provoking the Founders. But I beg to differ-when they threaten the security of our allies and trading partners, when their government has identified us as the greatest enemy of their ideology, when they spew vile hatred at our people…then it is they who’ve provoked us!
As such, I cannot afford to sit idly by as Columbia grows in power and harasses our allies. I am officially declaring them a rogue nation, and sending the Guardian Unit of Nations in to protect our friends.”
The crowd applauded.


 
Spoiler Chapter 12: The President and the Governor :


We’ve started to work on constructing a navy in anticipation of a war against Columbia. We constructed one boat, before the whole project was canceled. Columbia has no navy and exactly one coastal city. Any war against Columbia will be on land.

However, we’ve converted our boat into a scouting unit to explore things in the meantime. We’ve found an archipelago containing many tiny islands. There’s three municipalities on this archipelago: Plunder, Melee, and Lucre. They have many islands under their jurisdiction, but only those three municipalities. The place is overrun with pirates, and the state religion is Voodoo.

They call their nation the “New Carribean”.

Their leader, the governor Elaine Marley Threepwood, has asked to speak with me. I’ve accepted.

…

The President arrived by boat, and was guided by local pirates towards the Governor’s Mansion. He could tell walking in that this place was a wretched hive of Scumm™ and villainy. He walked by at least one robbery and two vandalisms. He pointed them out to his guides, but they just shrugged and kept him moving forwards.

However, once he got to the actual governor’s mansion, he noticed it was nice and clean. He walked over to it, when suddenly, three dogs jumped out at him. Poodles. Guard dog poodles. They were stopped by their chain running out.

A feminine, British voice shouted out. “Zues, Apollo, Hades! At ease!” The poodles sat down. A door opened, revealing a woman with reddish-brown hair wearing a purple jacket over a white shirt, and blue jeans. She held the door open for him.

“Hello, there! I take it you’re the President?” She did a curtsy. “Governor Elaine Threepwood, at your service. I’d introduce you to my husband, but he’s off raiding a ship right now.”

The President spoke “I’m President Rogers, nice to meet you.”

The Governor said “I was just calling you over to try forming diplomatic relations with a respectable nation. I tried talking to that Comstock, but he wouldn’t even show up!” She scoffed. “Anyways, what’s your story?”

The President said “We’re…survivors from before the world ended. We were put in cryogenic freezing 300 years ago.”

The Governor raised an eyebrow. “Cyro-what?” she said. The President opened his mouth to answer, but Elaine raised a hand and answered “Never mind, I don’t need to know. I’d have figured the old government would have prepared something. Welcome to the new world, and the New Carribean”

The President’s eyes half-closed when he was interrupted, but after the Governor finished her statement, the President perked up again and said “Thank you, madame. What’s your nation’s stories?”

The Governor declared “Ah, well, our little slice of pirate heaven started…was it 15 years ago?”. She put her finger on her chin, pondering the question. “Anyways, there were a few warring tribes here that made a living off of raiding each other. It got to the point where there were more pirates than victims, really.”

The President raised an eyebrow. “How does that work, economically? Wouldn’t your society run out of stuff to steal?”

The Governor waved her hand. “We all have other part-time jobs on the side. It’s not the most efficient system, I admit.” She continued. “Anyways, the pirates of Melee Island were some of the strongest there were, enough to keep pirates from the other two tribes in line. That’s when I stepped in-my father managed to…accumulate a lot of wealth and pass it on to me. I was able to hire all the pirates of the New Carribean as my own privateers. We’re running a protection racket of sorts here. We raid each other’s ports, but I make sure that we’re able to keep things stable. And, if we’re ever attacked by an external threat, we can team up to defend ourselves.”

The President rubbed his chin. “That’s actually pretty clever”. It didn’t take long for him to come up with an idea. “So, you’re running a protection racket? Like, you can be hired out?”

Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. What are you wanting me to do.”

The President said “I want you to raid a coastal city for me. It’s called Battleship Bay, it’s under Comstock’s jurisdiction.”

Elaine laughed once. “Ha! That’ll bring all of Columbia down on us. And just how do you plan to make that worth my while?”

The President smiled. “You’ll get to keep the city. Imagine it now-the first conquest of a new pirate empire! Columbia’s steampunk technology at your disposal!”

Elaine pondered this. “Actually…you are making this sound appealing. I’ll tell you what-I’ll
certainly consider this proposition of yours. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

The President shook his head. “Not that I can think of.”

Elaine smiled. “Very well, then. It was nice talking with you.”


 
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